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askbensolo · 26 days ago

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Journal Entry #51: Weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in a Spacebucks

Ever since Poe and Beebee-Ate moved in, I’ve been buying caf in the morning more often, instead of making it at home. RIP my bank account.

See, Beebee is kind of hyper in the morning. When my alarm goes off, he rolls off his charging port and starts following me around. Even into the bathroom—like, bro. Personal space?? So, I’m kinda eager to just get out the door as soon as possible.

But, maybe Beebee-Ate is just my poor excuse. Because...coffeeshops in autumn? Vibes. I already admitted to you that I’m a sucker for seasonal beverages.

I'd had it in my mind to try to meditate before work. I had told Fannie I would. (This was before...stuff happened.) And over my morning caf seemed like a good time to do it. But…I never really ended up doing it. I guess I’m afraid of what I’ll see and hear, if I quiet my mind like that. I’m scared I’ll see whatever’s inside me that my mom seems so afraid of... Or, I’m scared I’ll see nothing at all.

Because...that’s how I’ve felt, lately. Like a husk. Holding my head above water, but just barely. Making it through. Texting my mom every day to keep her happy, and saying “Yes I love you I’ll tell my parents about you soon” to my sorta-girlfriend to keep her happy (guess I won't have to worry about that anymore at least), and showing up to work on time and generating five-hundred pieces of content to keep them happy, and lying to my uncle about my connection to the Force to keep him happy (won't have to worry about that anymore either I guess), and suppressing my urge to kick Beebee-Ate across the room like a football to keep my roommate happy (still have to deal with that unfortunately), and, well, I guess I kind of thought if I had my dream life in the city and a decently-paying job and a girl telling me every day that she loves me and I mean something to her and I’m not just a waste of space that I’d be happy, too, but—

…Frick. No. I can’t. See what I mean? I’m much better off keeping my introspection at bay.

And my little daily overpriced latte helps. Because it’s not just coffee. I am purchasing my sanity.

Somehow.

Even if it does cause me financial ruin in my thirties. But, hey—the way the New Republic is going, I don’t got a lotta hope for the decade ahead anyway!

And—well—I just made a little deal that'll set me up for life.

You’ll see.

So, anyway. Since I’m not meditating, I end up people-watching a lot. And, I end up watching Armitage a lot, because he is by far the most entertaining character of the ensemble. At first I thought he was the store manager, but then I saw him getting yelled at by the manager, so, I think he's just a shift leader or something.

But he wants to be the manager. I can see it in his eyes.

And I can tell this guy is a real psych case—someone clinging onto whatever little power he can grasp between his bony little service-gloved fingers—because he runs the place like a freaking military operation. Like, homie?? You do know you’re working minimum wage for a food service galacticorp, right?

I would soooo hate to work with him—but to give him credit, it’s the most efficient Spacebucks I’ve ever been to. Even at peak business hours. Armie runs a tight ship.

(I call him “Armie” in my head. One day it’s gonna come out of my mouth by accident, and dude’s gonna vault himself over the counter and try to murder me.)

(Well, try to murder me again, I mean. No, wait—I'm getting ahead of myself here—you'll see.)

So, last week, they got my order wrong. I brought it to the counter, and Armitage muttered “absolutely unacceptable” under his breath, and dragged over this poor zit-covered, sleep-deprived, college-kid barista by the scruff of his collar and publicly berated him in front of me and forced him to apologize to me and let me keep the first drink but upsized my new drink for free and remade it himself and forced the poor barista kid to watch him do it, and I’m pretty sure someone should report that as a workplace harassment incident—but it was also funny as hell, and sure made my day.

What I actually ordered was the korranut sweetgourd cold brew. But, I ended up kind of liking the first thing, too, so I came back to the counter to ask what it was. The traumatized barista kid ducked into the back when he saw me coming, so I flagged down Armitage.

“Yo, Armitage. What was in that first order?” I asked.

He blanched—as if he could get any paler. His eyes shifted around, like he was afraid who might hear. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

I blinked a couple times. Was I insane? “Uhh…what was…in the first order…?”

He seemed to regain some composure, and squinted at me. “How do you know about the first order?” he hissed.

Now I was getting a little freaked out. “I…I tasted it?” I stuttered.

Then things got really weird.

He grabbed me by the wrist and took me behind the counter and pulled me into the back room. It happened so fast—my brain froze up. He was skinny as heck, but his grip was like iron. I could’ve beaten him up if I’d tried, but I was scared stiff. I threw terrified looks at the other baristas. Tried to say “help” with my eyes, but they just ignored me. The manager was nowhere to be seen. Either this was a normal occurrence to them, or they were too scared of Armitage to do anything.

Maybe both.

He pulled me into a storage closet and slammed the door behind us and shoved me back against the wall.

“Dude, what—”

“Who are you?” Armitage hissed. “I knew there was something I didn’t like about you from the start, Ben Quadinaros—if that even is your real name. Who sent you? How long have you been watching me?”

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. I was bigger than him, but I don’t like when grown-ups yell at me—it doesn’t matter that I’m a grown-up now—I still don’t like it.

Armitage wrinkled his nose at me. As if I were literally garbage. (For reference, I am only figuratively garbage.) “What’s your real name, Ben Quadinaros?”

Was there a reason why I shouldn’t give him my real name? I didn’t know. Maybe? I couldn’t really think.

“Ben, uh...Calrissian?” I posed weakly.

He looked me over with a snarling grimace, seeming to feel I had insulted his intelligence. “No…no, I don’t believe that one bit. What is it really?”

The Solo snark won out. “Would you take Jabba the Hutt?” I asked.

He sneered. In an instant his hand flew to his hip, under his green apron, and I realized—OH, KRIFF ME—Armie was armed. It was Armitage Arkanis, in the broom closet, with the blaster. Ben Solo becomes a white outline on the floor. I got that horrible feeling all of a sudden like when you jump into hyperspace on a full stomach.

“Oh frick—geez—oh my Force—I’m��Ben—my name is—Ben Organa Solo!” I blurted, genuinely scared for my life. Because yeah, my life kinda sucks, but it doesn’t suck that bad—not bad enough to lose it to an unhinged ginger who’d smoke me in the back of a Spacebucks for, what—lying about my name?

“Solo,” Armitage said slowly, and his eyes flashed with recognition. “Yes. I knew it. The Alderaanian princess’s son. What do you want from me, then? Information?”

“I-I mean…yeah? I…I just wanted to know what was in the drink,” I choked out. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

Now his expression turned to one of bewilderment. “…The drink?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah," I said. "The order that got messed up. The…the first one.”

The longest thirty seconds of silence ever. My knees were shaking and my heart was pounding in my ears. I felt like I was either gonna throw up or piss myself. I wondered what it felt like to get shot.

And then Armitage blinked a few times and withdrew his hand from his hip and looked around for a second and became the shift leader again and seemed to realize how insane it was that he’d dragged a paying customer into a broom closet and threatened him. He took a clumsy step backward and cleared his throat.

“I…apologize for the misunderstanding,” he muttered weakly. I could sense his weakness.

Oh, I thought. He's not so scary. I could crush his windpipe with one hand. And then I stopped feeling so afraid.

I saw an opening. Stood up a little taller. Squared my shoulders a little.

“Uhh, yeah, you better,” I said. “‘Cause I’m reporting your ass. What the kriff, dude?”

He took another step back, and cast a worried glance behind him.

Oh! So he was scared of me now. I liked that. I liked that sooo much better.

“I mean...hello?" I shouted. "You’re kriffing insane! You can’t freaking do that to people! Who do you think you are? Who’d you think I was?”

“I misunderstood,” Armitage sniffed, but he couldn’t hide his discomfort. “I…I thought you were someone looking to get me in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, now I am,” I said. I took a little step forward, and he took a little step back. I found that really funny for some reason, and if I weren't so fired up I would've laughed at him. “Seriously! You were making threats on my life just because you thought I was like, what, an undercover workplace investigator? From Spacebucks corporate, or sentient resources, or something?”

“Yes,” Armitage agreed hurriedly. “Yes. That is—exactly—precisely—who I thought you were. Quite.”

“Well, you should damn well be investigated,” I huffed. “For Force’s sake! I’m filing a police report.”

“Don’t,” he begged.

“You were gonna pull a blaster on me!”

“I don’t have one. I don’t have one!” He pulled up the lap of his apron and showed me his pockets. And he was right. His legs were so skinny. Like toothpicks, or something. There was no way he had a blaster—not even one of those really little ones.

So, he’d been bluffing. That tracked. I was beginning to understand this guy real kriffin' well—he was scary as kark, until you had him in a corner, and then he just freaking melted.

“Okaaay,” I said. “Pretty sure you can still get in a lot of trouble for threatening me. You don’t want my mom to know about this, buddy. She practically freaks out when I get a hangnail.”

Armitage turned white. Again—as if he could get any whiter. “P-Princess Leia? I mean…the Senator Organa?”

“The one and only.”

Bro dropped to his knees on the dirty-ass closet floor. “Oh, my God. Please. No.” I once again suppressed the urge to laugh at him.

Wow! Wasn’t this amusing. I felt like I could kick him in the face right now, and he’d just sit there and take it.

Something stirred within me. Something toothy and mean and strong that rippled downward through my body and made my hands feel hot. Maybe it was that thing Mom and Uncle Luke were so afraid of. What Snoke had always tried to encourage, before I cut contact with him. What Snoke seemed to still want to stoke inside of me, now that his whispers had begun again to brush up against the perimeters of my mind. That power that had made me believe, for a second, that I could come at my uncle with a lightsaber...

Armie’s bottom lip trembled. Now he looked like he was going to throw up or piss himself. I kept him in suspense for a luxurious fifteen more seconds and wondered if he’d cry. I imagined what it’d feel like to bash this loser’s skull in for thinking he could threaten me.

How many homicidal fantasies is a guy allowed to have before he has to turn himself over to the psych ward? Is twice in one year okay? As a treat?

Asking for a friend.

Anyway. Now that I knew he wasn't armed, I wasn't scared of him anymore. Because if Armitage wasn't armed, then it was just up to whoever had bigger arms, and that was me—but luckily for Armie, we were kind of in an armistice.

Well, I was gonna call the police on him. But then I had the most legendary, freaking hilarious idea ever. A real stroke of genius.

“...Okay, Arkanis,” I said finally. “I’ve got a solution: buy me caf for the rest of my life, and I won’t tell your manager. Or the police. Or my mom.”

Armie’s eyes bugged out. “Buy your caf?” he spluttered. “For life?”

“Yep.” I gave him a little grin and a nod. “What can I say? I’m a college grad in a failing economy, who bought into the lie that my degree would mean something, and now I’m effectively an alcoholic—just with overpriced caf-based beverages instead of booze.”

Armitage blinked slowly, like an ugly little frog, and wet his thin, pale lips.

I shrugged. “I’m a simple man, Armitage. I’m giving you options here. Finance my addiction, and I’ll let this go.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “There is no way I could possibly afford that,” he spat. “You come in here almost every day.”

“Yeah, well. Can you afford me reporting you to the authorities?” I asked. “‘Cause I’ll throw in what an abusive little skrit-head you are to your employees, too. And the time I saw you accidentally sneeze into a drink but serve it anyway.”

If he was any paler, he’d be frickin’ transparent.

“...Fine,” he said. “But—there has to be a credit limit on this. Five credits a day.”

“Five credits doesn’t buy a single damn thing on your menu, and you know it."

“It buys a plain black coffee,” he disagreed haughtily.

“I don’t want a plain black caf, I can make that at home,” I snapped. “And what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate? I don’t have to hold my tongue. I can call the police right now.”

Armitage opened his mouth and closed it again. Like an ugly little fish. (Basically you could describe him as an ugly little anything and it'd be accurate.)

Well, I already had all the leverage here. But I decided to throw him a bone anyway.

“Look, buddy,” I said softly. “I keep in shape, so I’m not gonna rack up a tab. And when I’m picking up orders for work, they let me do it on the company card. I'll go easy on ya. I swear. So…do we got a deal, or what?”

He was silent for several moments, his eyes kind of glassed over. Then he nodded dumbly.

Oh my Force. He actually went for it.

Ha! Baby’s first blackmail.

“Nice.” I grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He flinched. “So, uh. You mind transferring me some credits for today? And then you can just, like, give me a gift card, or something.”

Again, he nodded, looking like I'd kicked his puppy—or, maybe just like a kicked puppy. For a second, I almost felt bad.

And then I remembered how he'd threatened my life—or tried to make me think that he could—and I thought of Snoke—and I thought of Luke—how my whole life I've always felt like everyone was always trying to control me—and how I'd sworn to never let anyone throw me around ever again—and suddenly, I didn't feel quite so bad anymore.

"Crabapple caramel crunch," Armitage muttered, all of a sudden.

I looked at him. "What?"

He raised his watery eyes to meet mine, the familiar scowl back in place.

"That was the first drink," he said quietly. "The...first order."

#askbensolo #written #dark side points gained #armitage #Spacebucks #ben solo #ben’s diary #ben tells a story #why is ben Like This #oof ben is gettin a little. a little scary these days

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imaginespazzi · 3 months ago

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Wowza, I have a LOT of thoughts and feelings about part 7. A real mixed bag. BUCKLE UP.

2033

yaaay they had a sleep over that didn't end absolute destruction of our collective hearts!

I feel the storm a brew'in with Drew. Something is coming and its not gonna be good lol.

Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” oof. my gut. is punched.

Paige is terrified. hmmm ok I like were getting into Paige's psyche a little more. Unlike other anons I don't think she's going to straight up run away or something drastic like that, but I think its totally fair that now that they are over the 'hump' (even though there has been no humping :( ) of admitting their feelings and trying to build something new, it is sinking in for Paige that wow this could be amazing… or I could get my heart trampled again and combust into a million pieces if this dream doesn't work out

Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?” oh I love this domestic shit. Paige would be the kind of sweet lover girl to go out and get her woman her favorite coffee even if theres coffee already in the house

Hmmm when is Jose's wedding happening? Will Paige be Azzi's date? Will being at a wedding give her a PTSD trauma response? I normally love weddings but i feel like you aint gonna give us a fluff fest with this one. Or maybe Azzi and Paige have a wonderful romantic time and start talking about what they want to do for their own wedding. happy happy happy fluff yay.

OOoh lawd is Paige gonna let an 'i love you' slip and freak Azzi out

“your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?” “yeah, yeah she does.” SOBBING. But for real by the time Stephie is a teenager Azzi is going to have to impose a monthly limit on how much Paige can spend on random shit for Stephie cause she would be rollin up to school in a G-wagon and a louis v backpack and get mugged/become insufferable lol.

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” foreshadowing smut with Paige putting whipped cream on azzi's nips? yes? great.

“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!” - awwww cutie paige. Couple mode.

But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. hmmmm this is interesting. I often forget about the fact that their first relationship was a secret, and how clearly there is an element of that involved in their breakup. Azzi pulling back again? Im getting sad.

dun dun dun dun the moment we've been waiting for - FRENCHIE!

Hmm ok so Stephie doesn't seem to know clem was not just a platonic friend for Azzi… wondering if its cause they weren't in a serious relationship and it was just FWB or if it was a full blown relationship and Azzi consciously hid it from stephie

I mean Im sure Paige hates clemence already for obvious reasons, but STEPHIE loving her……ohhhhh lawd

Oof ok Clemence traded to atlanta… glad we dont have to have her around for long. I dont want paige to be arrested for homicide. Also Im absolutely picturing Clemence looking like Marine Johannes cause we know Azzi's type is white blond haired blue eyed Guards lol

“just one night.” I feel this night out is going to be an alcohol fueled disaster and IM SO EXCITED

2028

Why isn't Azzi playing for team USA? Stephie was born in January so could she not theoretically be back in it by now? Or did she take 2 seasons off?

OK Olivia. You know I love the whole Olivia of it all and I find the relationship so intriguing and complex. My first instincts about her in this chapter were of course, dear god she is such a bitch. And then I have to remind myself SHES NOT. She is just kind of a dumbass who is in love with someone who isn't in love with her, and its pretty much torturing her. -- “You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!” “Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more like… you are congratulating your wife on her winning a game at the Olympics and she can't even get out a full sentence in response cause she SEES the back of her ex girlfriends head. Thats grounds for divorce right there lol.

eeeek i dont like confrontation this would make me pee my pants "“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”

"This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice." … hmmm just starting to reveal? so theyve been married for like 8 months at this point. Olivia was keeping up a facade for a while ….. or Paige's clear preference for azzi is just getting worse and worse and the woman is finally cracking.

Ok the image of Olivia being LIVID in their hotel room, and Paige is just laying in bed watching tiktoks not listening to a thing Olivia says. Why is Olivia still here?! Take the money and run bitch your wife aint that into you!

gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play "fuckass clezzi edit' HHAHAHAHAH this is so Paige

Another thing about Olivia is that she seems to have a real issue with Basketball despite you know, being a sports reporter and pursuing a player romantically?? When Paige and her have that post presser spat in the earlier chapter Olivia says something like "There are other jobs than playing basketball" and here again she goes "right, fucking basketball. again". Sorry Olivia but your house, luxury cars, jewelry, are all courtesy of the fact that your wife is a basketball player! Who you met... while she was a basketball player! -OK Olivia, not going to the gold medal game? Bitch gots to go. How did this marriage continue for 2 more years lol

Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.” ok and im crying again. Just get back together right here and now you fools.

I do have a short addition to the end of the chapter, ahem im a little rusty:

And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden. Except, at the afterparty their eyes meet again. Olivia had gone back to Dallas in a huff instead of staying for closing ceremonies. Clemence had to go be French somewhere, and didn't want to celebrate the USA win. And despite both being in relationships, the pull towards each other they felt was undeniable. After a couple dirty shirleys, Azzi followed Paige to her now empty suite. Once inside Paige opened a bottle of champagne, realized it was from France, and threw the bottle out the window. She then opened a Budweiser, poured it over azzis tits, chugged he rest of it, and they made passionate and patriotic love. As Paige buried her face in Azzis pussy, sucking on her clit like a goddamn AMERICAN, Azzi chanted 'USA USA USA'! She was reminded how much she loved Paige's Red Blooded American passion. Sure, sex with Clem was nice. But she was always stopping in the middle to bring out a cheese plate, and some preserves, or some croissants that got crumbs all over the place. While they both seemed to understand this was a one time thing, Azzi and Paige felt the Olympic spirit erupting within them, that it was fate they they connected here in LA, and released the tension they had been bottling up for 4 years. As they both squirted simultaneously, it was reminiscent of old faithful, another classic American relic. What a night it was. 🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱🤱

Buckling up m'am!

Paige is rightfully apprehensive about a lot of things. I think with her, when she was trying to convince Azzi, she's wasn't thinking about more than just being together. Now that they are taking step towards that, Paige is starting to have an epiphany of "hey there were actual reasons why we haven't been together for the last 8 years and maybe I needa think about those just a little bit".

The wedding will happen on-page and there's two ways it could go. I haven't fully decided yet so it's just as much a mystery to me I guess.

LMFAO Paige is just gonna give that girl an amex card and let her go ham with it if she gets her way

I'm glad you caught that line!

A lot of people seemed to think Clémence looks like Marine Johannes which is lowkey what I pictured as well and so I'm very amused that we all seem to be on the same wavelength with that lmao

I don't think she took two seasons off because she's definitely playing in the 2028 W season but with Stephie having been born only a couple months ago, I think Azzi, as a single mother, prioritized Stephie over going to Olympic training camps and stuff and so she wasn't on the team.

She is just kind of a dumbass who is in love with someone who isn't in love with her, and its pretty much torturing her. - this is exactly it like she's in a very depressing situation if we look at it through non-pazzi tinted glasses

Olivia is holding onto a dream that's threatening to turn into a nightmare and I don't think even she could tell you why she's holding on except for this ridiculous things called hope.

It's easier to take her anger out on Paige's love for basketball than take it out on Paige's love for Azzi that they're both trying to pretend doesn't exist anymore.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BABES!

I just- throwing out the champagne cause it's french? the beer? USA USA USA chanting? cheese plates?

No notes, 10/10 perfection. Please take over my writing credentials.

#ask #fic talk #🤱 anon my personal jester <3 #that last part will have me wheezing for days lmao how do you come up with this stuff

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theodoraflowerday · 1 month ago

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heartstopper s3e6 live episode reaction

okay, holy shit

this episode's gonna have to do a LOT bc last episode was everything good in the world

man, Geoff is so sweet I love him

MR FAROOOUUUKKKKKK MR FAROUK AND HIS LIL FIST BUMPS

not the rugby lads 😭

"I still relapsed two weeks after" oh no

oh no please don't show it

OH THEYRE SJPWING IT DONT FIGHT PLEASE

did he just tell nick to fuck off? oh my god

NOOOOOO

NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT TORI AND NICK

9h my god

ohmtmgkd

bro this isn't good

oh my god

"he's seen me at my absolute rock bottom and hasn't run away screaming" AND HE'S NOT GONNA! #FutureHusbands #FutureDads

TEN YEARS IN AND HAVING MARITAL PROVLEMS OH MY GO D

BRO I WAS *KIDDING* WITH THE HASHTAG

geoff is so funny though I love him

OH. OKAY.

"more energy" yeah that's what we're calling it now huh

geoff's knowing look lmfao

bro I love geoff

ELLE IS IG FAMOUS OMG

not a radio interview? oh god

seeing charlie play the drums again has me emo (prob also nick's thought process)

THEYRE SEEING SEXY JACK MADDOX

oh they're kissing

oh they're Kissing™

they're like fr kissing oh my god they're GOING AT IT STOP IT SLUTS

WHAT

"and it's obvious we both want to" okay I am LIVING for this change from the book

WHAT WHAT

WHAT

NO YOU HAVEN'T?

YOU'VE DONE NOTHING

WDYM OVER THE CLOTHES CHARLIE YOU HAVE NOT DONE ANYTHING AT THIS POINT

WH A T

it is Incredibly Extremely Hilariously accurate that the one aroace in the group actually wants to hear all the details nskfjsofjdofk most ace people I know are *so* nasty so this tracks so much

TAO I SWEAR

FIERY PASSION STOP ITJFKGJDLGKLDKG

"we've all heard the story" god I know this man called them up the next morning like I'M NO LONGER A VIRGIN

WHY ARE YOU INTERESTED IN CHARLIE'S SEX LIFE AND NOT MINE SKFISIFUSOFUDIGUDOGUFOGIFOGIFIGIDKG

WE KNOW YOU LOVE SEXY TIME

oh my god they're so annoying

but I gotta pause because I need like

a moment

wdym nick and charlie have "not done nothing" like this is a huge deviation from the books. not an unwelcome one but I've been psyching myself up for this because I love them but they're my babies

so hearing this is so..........

like over the clothes is still sex isn't it

like "IT'S NOT LIKE WE'VE DONE NOTHING" CHARLES?

oh..... I wasn't prepared to see the scars

haha ha haha hah ha

PLEASE DON'T BREAK ANYTHING OR BE SICK ANYWHERE KSJFKDFJDKFJDLFJ

"that sounds like a note for imogen" "HOW DID I GET THIS REPUTATION" oh I don't know baby how did you

okay

nick and imogen vs charlie and sahar......... loving this actually

bro nick and imogen being groupies together tho :(

oh mh god babies

MICHAEL

MICHAEL HOLDEN

MICHAEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

oh my god

how is that literally michael im in tears

MEOW - MEOW - MEOW

okay elleargentupdates we get it you love your girlfriend

LETS GO ZAHEANEY

"what I do know is I don't wanna keep hurting you" oh baby girl

"you made me realize something pretty big about myself" "I guess I could say the same about you" oh my darlings :(

also is that immy admitting that she's also into girls bc, love that

"we'd be awful together" NO YOU WOULDN'T GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER

"I like us better as friends" oh babies

NOT BABY IMOGEN AND SAHAR I'M GONNA CRY BABIES

"is it sustainable? I'm trying to do my bit" JSKFJSKFJSKGJDKGK IMOGEN I LOVE YOU

god I love them I still want them to get together

CHARLIE ISAAC AND TAO ALL DRUNK TOGETHER SKFJDKFUDKFJF

NOT CHARLIE ON NICK'S LAP AAAAAAAA

GOOD 4 U I'M DUIGJFKDJGLDKGLD

joe personally texted olivia for the rights to this song I know it

TORI AND MICHAEL AND THEIR DRINKS IM GONNA LITERALLY RIP MY ARMS OFF

[rips clothes off and runs down the street] SPROOOOOLLLLDDDEEEENNNNNN

'business or politics' yea sounds like imogen

oh Tara baby no

TARA NOOOO Bby

oh my god???

CHARLIE?????????

oh my god charlie is so good

bro nick looking at them with that face..... bro's thinking "yeah that's my future baby daddy"

"that was amazing" "I'm so drunk right now" kskfldjfkdjfkdjgld

"don't ever leave me" "wasn't planning on it" oh man they're gonna wreck me next season

charlie seems so cuddly like this :(

"I've been thinking about something" "what" "you and me" OH DONT SAY IT WHILE YOU'RE DRUNK

WE COULD DO THINGS???

NO HES NOT SAYING IT WHILE DRUNK

"WE COULD HAVE SEX" NOT WHILE YOU'RE DRUNK CHARLES

"I think about it all the time" "yeah, so do I" oh you horny little miscreants

"that was a long time ago" fr it's been almost a year like let's be so serious

NOT WHILE YOU'RE DRUNK CHARLES

yeah nick exactly

oh he's trying to use liquid courage :( charlie no

"OH SHIT" lmao honestly

"and then we were in the kitchen and..." CHARLIE'S PANIC FACE LMAO

TORI AND MICHAEL WAKING NICK AND CHARLIE UP

bro all I want from life is nick/charlie/tori/michael like please give them a sitcom I want all 4 of them and nobody else

"I can make egg on toast. you look like you need egg on toast" responsible parent michael holden

NICK AND CHARLIE LOOKING AT TORI LIKE THAT SKFKDKFJFKF

nick gets to tease her too they've bonded for life! favorite in laws ever!

the way nick looks at them kills me, that man has his eye on them the way he had his eye on tao and elle. he's manifesting

"ready to meet the love of your life?" "you're so jealous right now" kskfksofkdof oh nick baby

oh elle baby

oh wait no

BRO WTF IS WRONG WITH THIS BITCH

"well, your speaker last week was transphobic, then" GO OFF ELLE

what the fuck that was so fuckin nasty

oh elle baby

oh my god elle's parents are the best im gonna cry

oh elle baby

NOT THE COPPER JOKE SKFJDLFKDLFKDLGKD

oh my god that was the single most embarrassing scene I've ever watched

what the fuck that was AWFUL IM DHINGKDKFKDKFLDKFDL

Jskdjslfjsldk NICK

yeah I love you Jonny boy but I'm not gonna be watching that scene again

OH OKAY

OKAYYYY LETS KEEP THIS ENERGY GOING

oh charlie no

HANDS ABOVE WAISTS MISTERS

ohhhh

OH FUCK

oh right. charlie's house. open door policy. horrifying.

but thank god bc charlie was making me so nervous

"you know I really fancy you. infinitely more than jack maddox" broooo

I really love the way they included jack maddox in this episode tho like. as a way to bring up unrealistic body standards and all that shit

"I want you" if that man looked at me like that and said that to me i would literally faint

but yeah, please god not at charlie's house lmao

oh the therapy session :( I love geoff so much he's so sweet

"there's free condoms at reception" lmao oh my god

aw the birbs

god what a fun episode. AND I HAVE MICHAEL NOOOOOWWWWWWWW. I love this show *so* deeply*

#hs livenats #heartstopper spoilers #heartstopper s3 spoilers

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likecastle · 2 years ago

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Ronance Femslash February - “number”

Thank you, @annieofhearts, for today’s prompt: “number”. I have to admit, I kind of don’t know where this one came from--it’s only vaguely a response to this prompt, and it’s kind of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Ronance, but once the idea got hold of me, I couldn’t do anything else. Sorry it’s probably not quite what you were expecting, but please know I still really appreciate the prompt and had fun with this! (And you can always send in another prompt to give me a chance to redeem myself!)

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Putting part of this behind a cut because it got a long.

“I can’t do it,” Robin whines, sprawling hopelessly onto Steve’s couch. “I can’t go on another terrible blind date with some weirdo who insists on talking about her raw foot diet the entire night.”

“Maybe this time it’ll be different,” Steve says from the kitchen, as he sprinkles salt onto the popcorn he’s making.

Robin raises her head from the couch cushions to give him a baleful stare across the living room. “D’you remember the last one?”

Steve gives a whole-body flinch. “Nadya.”

“Nadya,” Robin agrees morosely. “And, like, sure, the sex was good, but she also stole multiple appliances from my kitchen.”

“I mean,” Steve says thoughtfully, “from what you told me, the sex was better than good.”

“I need a toaster, Steve! Bread is one of my primary food groups! And more importantly, I need to not wonder where my belongings have wandered off to after I hook up with someone. Like, what was she even doing with them? It’s not like my shitty microwave I’ve had since college was worth anything on the open market.”

“OK, OK,” Steve concedes, obviously trying to forestall a rant he’s heard plenty of times already. “So you’ve struck out a few times.”

“I know I’m not exactly a whiz with numbers, but I think it’s fair to say my recent dating history constitutes a unilateral failure by any metric. I don’t know.” She pulls one of the couch cushions over her head with a groan. “Maybe I just need to give up on the idea of meeting the perfect person and try being on my own for a while. Maybe I already had my shot at the one big love of my life and I blew it without even realizing it. Maybe it’s stupid to think there’s anybody out there who could possibly put up with me, or—”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in sternly, nudging Robin’s legs so he can sit down beside her on the couch. He lets her stretch out on top of him once he’s settled, giving her shin a reassuring pat. “You’re smart as hell and you have good taste in movies and you’re the only person I know who can always make me laugh, no matter how bad a mood I’m in. You’re gonna find someone who can see how great you are, and anyone who acts like they’re putting up with you can fuck right off, because you’re cool as shit, OK?”

“Yeah, I know,” Robin mutters.

“Look,” Steve says, “you don’t have to go on this date if you don’t want to. It’s totally fine it you want to take some time to just be by yourself. But, if you ask me—”

“Which I didn’t,” Robin points out.

“If you ask me,” Steve continues, louder this time, as if volume alone gives him the moral high ground, “you’re gonna start psyching yourself out if you don’t pick yourself up and get back out there. Like, yeah, maybe this date will suck, but if you start going into every date assuming that you’re doomed to fail, it’s gonna become a self-sufficient prophecy.”

Robin groans again, shoving at Steve with her foot hard enough that he sways onto the arm of the couch. “Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.”

“So what do you know about the girl this time?”

Robin sighs, heaving herself up so she can get at the popcorn Steve set down on the coffee table. “Not much. She works with Lois at the Reader, just moved here from somewhere back east a few months ago. Lo said she’s never really dated women—apparently she was in a relationship with this guy for, like, ever, but she’s known she wasn’t straight since high school, and now that she’s single again, she wants to, you know, test the waters.”

“You do have a weakness for emotionally unavailable bi girls,” Steve says, almost apologetically, but Robin can’t even contest it, since this is an observation she’s made herself many times before.

“The Curse of Vickie,” Robin admits with a sigh, though privately it’s not Vickie she regrets the most, but another one who got away. “Fuck it, why not? Who knows, maybe it’ll even be fun.”

“That’s the spirit!” Steve says, reaching over to steal the popcorn bowl from her.

A week later, when Robin walks into the bar and sees Nancy Wheeler, of all people, waiting anxiously in a booth, her first thought is that Steve isn’t going to believe her when she tells him how her blind date turned out. Her second thought, as Nancy spots her and breaks into a bewildered grin, is that maybe she’s finally going to break her streak.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #a wild steve appears!#ronance femslash february

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myersesque · 1 year ago

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UM UM UM fav npmd song?

OH GOD HARDEST QUESTION YOU COULD'VE ASKED. i am notoriously indecisive and there is not a single skip in this whole tracklist BUT ALAS. I WILL TRY

ummm um um uh. i'm gonna have mercy on myself and make it a tie. i'm allowing myself a tie

nerdy prudes must die - i love a good villain song. the reveal of max's new costume/makeup (STUNNING btw, especially considering how stressful it must be do to makeup whilst a show is actively going on - doing a costume change between acts is nerve-wracking enough), will branner's endless charisma and stage presence (literally devastated he's new to starkid bc i need more of him NOW), and his and jon matteson's fucking gorgeous vocals... both the chorus and the "who will pray for me?" section are CONSTANTLY looping in my head. absolutely 500% deserving of title track status.

as cool as i think i am + reprise / if i loved you - i'm counting all 3 of these as one bc i honestly can't decide between them, and i love them all for the same reasons. acaitia is such a well-done establishing song for peter's worldview - both his perception of himself (and how that shifts and skews more positive as he psychs himself up) and his perception of steph (the "smarter than she thinks she is" line always gets me - he thinks so highly of her and is so respectful of her even this early on when they're still bickering, and it sets the foundations for how strong their relationship ends up becoming). it's also just really nice to have a nerd character as a protagonist who has some confidence and, whilst steph liking him certainly helps with that, his sense of self-worth isn't inherently tied to her, it's inherently tied to himself and how he lets himself exist (he's as cool as he thinks he is - if he allows himself to think he's cool, then he's cool - which also has an interesting sort of parallel to max's sue sylvester "you are what i say you are" philosophy). then of course the reprise is absolutely devastating (i have absolutely no shame in saying i was openly sobbing) and serves as such a good example of how things have changed throughout the story, especially in terms of his sense of identity and relationship with steph. then ofc if i loved you is just... SUCH a fun song about their dynamic, and how they both clearly adore each other but aren't willing to admit that until forced. "not saying what we mean, except we literally are, just backwards" is one of my fav kinds of song (also - it reminds me a bit of i could do without you from calamity jane, if that's anything).

the summoning - villain song, horrifically catchy, and the lords in black having their moment. the distorted background vocals, the childish way the lords present themselves contrasted with the heaviness of their song and the darkness of their lyrics ("stephanie has got a gun, tra-la-la-la, how fun!" - they're DELIGHTING in their suffering)... it's just really fuckin good. i also don't super mind the dialogue interrupting it since it's part of the pacing, and the lords breaking into song in the middle of a serious discussion feels very on brand for them

honourary mentions include literal monster (for similar reasons to as cool as i think i am, but for max's character instead - also, again, villain song) and hatchet town (i ADORE hatchetfield's ensemble-heavy songs, and i think this one sorta encapsulates the whole vibe of the series). i also have soft spots for dirty girl and go go nighthawks, but that's in more of a "this is REALLY fun" way than a "i have deep opinions abt these songs" way. obviously just for once is also devastating and a beautiful song that serves as a great demonstration of lauren lopez's skills but i'm trying not to say "every single song, actually"

...i realise i just listed 90% of the tracklist but i justified most of it??? so hopefully u at least got SOMETHING from this answer idk

#you: what's your favourite (singular)#me: here's an essay on why i adore almost every song in this show bon appetit #ask #horror tag #npmd spoilers

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granhairdo · 1 year ago

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it’s official, my sister is the worlds biggest bitch. so you know about all the drama we had a few months ago. well im gonna lose it with her. today i asked her if she could go ahead and stop by the pharmacy to pick up some of my pain and dyslexia meds after work because the pharmacy was close to where she worked. she groaned at me telling me she’d do it but i really do need to stop complaining and just go pick it up myself.

for context here i literally had a knee replacement a bit ago and can barely walk let alone drive, and she knows this! i can’t go pick up my medication! do i didn’t want to start something so i just let it slide.

well she came home the medication and i have been in terrible pain all day since she left and i haven’t been able to do any of the chores i usually do, but was instead lying on the couch wrapped in blankets, watching les mis or something, almost in tears i was in so much pain.

so she starts going off on me for not doing anything all day saying im lazy and that all i do is sit here and eat up all her money. i snap and tell her that she doesn’t know what actual physical and mental pain is because while she is off gossiping at work, im at home feeling like someone is slowly cutting into everyone of my joints while i hear a disembodied voice behind me telling me my whole life wasn’t real.

she says that she knows real pain because she knows what it’s like to beaten senseless by her drunk of his ass father. okay yeah sure that sucked. but do you know who else lived in the exact same household around the same time, being emotionally and physically abused just as much if not more. while i was parenting two of our little brothers, making sure they didn’t fucking starve, she, just a few years younger than i, was too busy weeping in the corner half the time. you don’t bring that shit up with me.

we ended up in a long screaming fight that ended with complete silence and her storming off into her bedroom.

of course, i happened to have a schizophrenia and c-ptsd episode and ended up trying to bolt out of the apartment, falling really badly in the process. she had to drag me to the er because im obviously still recovering from the surgery and just a fall in general has previously caused a lot of damage to my joints and made things much worse than they already were.

luckily i had calmed down by then so i didn’t end up getting considered to be admitted into the psych ward, but i still needed multiple xrays and like a million exams, luckily everything was okay. we just got home from the er and she’s pissed at me for me having to take her there. im so fucking tired of this shit im thinking about moving back in with my mom

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roadkillthefox · 3 months ago

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The realization that my mom still sees me as a child is kind of painful, to be honest. I’m going to be 20 in ten days. I’ve been an adult for two years. I had to grow up way too fast.

But I can’t get a tattoo because she isn’t ready to let me. I’m a grown ass man. An adult. The only reason I can’t just go out and get one anyway is because she has control over my money, which I work for, by the way.

I can’t think of any other explanation for her reasoning. She gets defensive every time I try to have a conversation about how she treats me like a child. Yeah, I’ll admit, my social skills suck. I’m terrible at talking to people. Mainly because I don’t tolerate being treated like shit, and most people I meet treat me like shit.

Not my fault she never modeled proper communication skills when I was a kid. Not my fault I spent my childhood trying to hide from the abuse and neglect. Not my fault I spent my adolescence in a fucking psych ward.

Just because she spent 25 years with someone who treated her like an object doesn’t mean she gets to call me immature for standing up for myself.

Gonna bring this up with my therapist today. And have my mom come into the session. Maybe hearing it from a professional will make her realize that she’s the immature one here.

#roadkill says stuff #vent post

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jodilin65 · 34 years ago

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MONDAY, JULY 30, 1990 Yesterday was one hell of a day. To start off with, I slept only 3 hours. When I got up at 11:00, I felt like shit and was bottled up with a lot of stress as I’ve been through so much bullshit lately.

Brenda told me that we were gonna leave at 12:30 to go to this lake with a little beach in Ludlow and that Bonny and Dave decided not to go. So it got close to 2:00, and Bonny still wasn’t back yet so I figured she was angry with me and that’s why she was doing it cuz originally she wanted Brenda with Bonny’s sister Gail, but Gail’s got a girlfriend, and Brenda said long before she met me she wouldn’t really feel comfortable dating Gail cuz they were too good of friends. Brenda says she feels like they’re sisters and it would almost be like incest. Also, Bonny’s the type that likes to do things her way only. So, finally Bonny came back and I called her by phone and she said she didn’t want to talk and I knew right away it was cuz she knew I was mad and that I was right, but couldn’t handle that so it was easier for her to “hide” as she says I do. So I screamed out my open window and into theirs that it was ok for her to be a bitch but God help anybody else if they’ve got something to say. And there’s a lot more to it, meaning a lot of other shit she’s said but I’m not gonna waste my time getting into it, but it’s too bad cuz we’ve had some good talks and she’s otherwise a nice girl. To wrap it up though, after me and Brenda got back from Ludlow, Bonny comes running out as we were coming up the stairs bitching about how I cussed her out and said what I had to say about her smart mouth and false assumptions she’s made about me (she’s jealous of Brenda spending time with me and not with her and Gail), and also, I think Tom filled her head with bullshit. She was saying that they were getting evicted and that if I wanted to fight we could go outside as she went to jump me. Before I could jump her back, Brenda and Dave stepped between us and I really wish they hadn’t cuz I would’ve fucked this bitch up badly and she would’ve deserved it 100%.

Afterward, we talked about it on the phone and she told me she has PMS. But that was no excuse to lunge at me, and she’s lucky they stepped in our way. I told her I’d beat her silly if this happened again, but if not, I’d like to put it in the past and forget it. She said she already has, and asked that I not dump Brenda out of anger.

SUNDAY, JULY 29, 1990 I’m so pissed! I’m going through the same bullshit on this antibiotic being so restless. I can’t sleep for the life of me. At first, I thought it was me and said to myself, “What is wrong with me?” Until I realized what was going on. I slept less than 5 hours yesterday, too. Also, all night long I was exhausted and I figured I’d sleep pretty well. I mean, I do have something on my mind, but still, this is ridiculous.

Speaking of something being on my mind, well, today’s Sunday. Another day of depressing news about the band.

As I was up all night I realized something about myself. Well, people say not to be so negative and to be more positive and I realized sometimes I am positive as well as negative but either way, anything I really want or try for that means a lot to me comes out negative. Seriously. I always fall flat on my ass whether I think positive or negative so what difference does it make how I think? None at all. I know for sure I didn’t make it in this band but make pretend I was all psyched up for it thinking, “I know I won. I just have to win. I know I’ve made this band.” In the long run, it always turns up negative. Yeah, well, no more jokes on me cuz today I know just what to expect. I don’t fool myself or lie to myself either. Same thing if I met a beautiful gay woman like Gloria that was single and looking. I would never get her whether I thought positive and pursued her or hoped she pursued me or if I thought negative.

SATURDAY, JULY 28, 1990 This was the day 9 years ago that I was admitted to the Brattleboro Retreat till December 19th. It’s so hard to believe it was a whole 9 years ago. And it was 8 years ago around this day, this month that I was admitted to Valleyhead and 6 years ago I left.

Well, last night was the finals at the Frontier and several people are pretty pissed off including me, Brenda, Andy, Andy’s sister Marla and others. Once again it was 100% fixed just like the Pub. 500-pound Sue, who looked totally ridiculous, won. Rachel, whom I hear was boring, got second place. Renee got third. Renee is good, though, and so is Bruce who decided at the last minute he was going to perform. I’m telling you, when it comes to amateur productions in a meat marketplace they fuck over any decent person who’s got talent. Another thing is that they hate real women. They’re jealous. Plus, it’s all about popularity, too. Sue’s an ass-kisser and knows everybody and probably fucks everyone and parties with everyone. She has been nice to me, though. She bought me an $11 pair of shoes I needed for Vogue, helped me with my hair and made all the people that lost flowers. It’s still not fair though. They’ve fixed these things before on me, Andy and many others. Of course, Dedra will win the finals at the Pub.

Also, Brenda told me one of the judges they call Roxy gave her dirty looks and Brenda overheard her say, “Oh, she’s just using Jodi,” in the bathroom. All bitter, spite and jealousy cuz she’s not a real woman and the bitch can’t sing. I can’t wait to confront this bitch. I never even saw or met this queen before in my life and neither has Brenda. Andy knows her, though.

Andy’s sister Marla videotaped the show so I’ll have to see it. Andy says he liked my singing and so did many other people and yes, there are a lot of good honest caring people there but always the one or two jerks get in the way and fuck everyone and everything up.

In the dressing room, Bruce and a few other people said they were pissed Roxy was one of the judges cuz she’s unfair. They also lied when they said the judges wouldn’t know anyone and there’d be no favoritism. Everyone said Carl’s singing sucked. I feel he hit some very high powerful notes well but yes, he went quite flat on a few notes and really poured it out too much. I did have a lot of fun with rehearsals and the performance and I do have true and sincere friends there, but life sucks and it’s just not fair. Now all I have to do is wait for Sunday so I can hear some more depressing news about that band Cue. That’s if they even call me, and you know what that means if I’m the one who has to pick up the phone and call them.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 25, 1990 I got up at 3pm and had therapy at 4pm which went quite well.

Yesterday I sang quite well as the Ceftin has been helping me as far as draining my congestion.

Brenda enjoys it when I sing for her. Yesterday Brenda and I talked, watched TV, went to Food Fart and made love. I am getting more and more comfortable with her and I feel less and less tense and awkward. I tell her I feel guilty cuz she does so much for me and I was such a bitter crab in the beginning, but she says she understands me and that you can never do too much for someone you really care about. Here’s someone who loves me for me and who’s had problems but isn’t whacked out. Of course, we’re gonna give it time before we discuss living together. That’s a mega-major step.

She is great in bed, too.

Bill’s here now with his students. I hope we can sing later cuz I couldn’t Monday. I was too sick and thank God for Brenda who took care of all that so I could sleep.

Tomorrow night I have rehearsals, then Friday night’s the big night.

As far as the band, I won’t know until Sunday as they’ve had tons of calls but I called Mr. Grant who’s black. The whole band is, except for the manager Dave, which I think is neat. I said, “I don’t mean to be impatient or pushy, but I’m excited about this. How does it look?” He said not bad. I’ll just keep hoping and praying with my fingers crossed till Sunday.

TUESDAY, JULY 24, 1990 Yesterday morning I went to the ER since the Cipro I was given made me so restless. Brenda took me to the ER and both Dr. McGovern and Dr. Mudawar met us there. McGovern gave me something called Ceftin as I have bronchitis. It has been extremely hot and humid and the air is so polluted.

My two mice, Gremlin and Gizmo, are going bonkers for attention just like Tigger does, and most especially of all, Toffee. They were given to me by Bonny, Brenda’s 20-year friend. They’ve known each other since they were 10 and they’re both 30 now. Bonny’s ugly and butchy looking, but is seeing a black guy.

Today’s the day I get called either way as far as a yes or a no about the audition. Like I said, I tend to be doubtful as it usually takes many auditions before you get lucky. Everyone goes through that whether they’re great singers, mediocre or sucky and whether they stay local or get big-time famous.

MONDAY, JULY 23, 1990 Jesus Christ! I’m so pissed off. I can’t sleep to save my life. I cannot stand summer. It’s so fucking humid. I eat and sleep weirdly in the winter, but not this weird.

Today at 2:00, I have to go to the allergy and asthma Dr. Also, Bill’s supposed to be here and I’ve got to find out what time so someone can let him in if it runs into my appointment. I really should schedule my GYN and dentist and get a complete physical. And also, I’ve got some very serious house cleaning to do and laundry. Then the last and kind of scariest thing on the list is to call SIS and find out how I screwed up my book and bounced something. And these things with the bank always turn out to be worse than you originally thought. If it’s true, I’ll die. I’ll get absolutely no help from Mom, plus we had a huge fight. What else is new?

I have to wait till Tuesday as far as a yes or no to getting in the band Cue I mentioned. They were definitely impressed and the manager said so but for everything you do well, there’s always someone better. My singing was ok but it could’ve been better. It was extremely hot and humid that day. Like almost 100º. They liked my pitch, my keyboard playing but of course, I told them I was better at guitar. Also, they liked my singing in Spanish, my ability to dance, and my looks. They’re very friendly too, and they don’t make you nervous. Even though it looked good for me, I’m always a doubter until proven wrong and something does work out for the better.

THURSDAY, JULY 19, 1990 Oh my God, has the 90s been a major change, or what? For the better, that is, so far. I was telling Martha this today in therapy, and about how the 80s was a definite curse for me. She laughed her ass off at the way I said it even though we both know it’s true. She also cracked up at the way I said, “I should know, sweetheart.”

The lessons here with Bill are going great still, and also, Paula comes over or I go over there and I still speak with Fran, Tracy, Steve, Jessie, Dedra and of course Andy. We don’t hear too much from Nervous, though. This girl, Jackie, I met when I was working at the store, is supposed to come over for a visit but I don’t know when as I’ve been unusually busy but it feels great. I’ve also got to see Allison at the store sometime.

Also, sometime tomorrow I believe I’ll be going for a top 40 band audition.

SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1990 I had rehearsals today and I will again next Saturday. It was a lot of fun. Loopy didn’t show up again, and also Rachel and Carl, whose name I thought was Chuck, was late again. Thank God cuz Carl is an excellent singer and I’ve heard Rachel’s good although I’ve never seen her perform. Carl and I will be the only ones to sing live. Renee may possibly sing live though, too. They changed the prizes for the finals, and the date, too. It’ll be the 27th, rather than the 28th. Also, instead of $1,000 for the winner, it’ll be $500 for 1st place, runner-up gets $300 and 3rd place gets $200.

As far as Brenda’s concerned, well, she is attractive, though not the most attractive, of course, cuz that’s just a dream, yet she really does care, loves my music, we have lots in common, but she smothers me too much and I need to spend more time alone than the average person. If it was someone as gorgeous as Gloria then that’d be different, but like I said, that’s just a dream. Especially in the gay world. Trying to find a very beautiful, sexy, feminine, flashy gay woman that’s decent is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. She’s far from ugly though and life is full of compromises, right?

WEDNESDAY, JULY 11, 1990 As I lay here waiting for my edits to rewind, I realize I have so much to write about and that I really should keep up with it every day so I get in all the details of everything and so I don’t have to stop and ask myself, “Am I covering everything that’s happened since my last entry?” And also, “Have I written about this or that yet, or have I forgotten?”

First I’ll start out by saying that the lessons over here are going great. Bill’s here twice a week and his students are very nice and it’s fantastic getting free lessons. That’s $36 I save. I’ve only had two lessons so far from Bill but already he’s working his miracles once again. My voice is so relaxed and he’s doing exercises that help to widen my range. More soprano-like, even though I’m a definite contralto. It’s a lot of fun and I feel great about it.

Well as far as my edits go, I have one hell of a classic masterpiece here. I’ve completed side A and have started side B. It’s mainly Nervous as he’s got the best voice for it being a sack of nerves “choking up on his breath” as Fran’s brother Rick put it a year ago. The tape contains me, Andy, Fran, Nervous, Rick, Tracy, Tony L, and this other guy. My uncle Marty’s on it, too.

Now everything I just wrote is basically petty detail so now I’m gonna mention two things that will be the greatest and most shocking things I’ve written in all my journals combined. Before I do though, I’ll say that on July 28th I hope I can write something even more great and shocking to top what I’m about to write. Last June 21st on a Friday night, it was a last-minute decision for me to perform at the Pub and the Frontier. Now, the Pub’s contest is strictly lip sync, but the Frontier’s contest was talent, meaning you could sing live if you want to. I won $125 between the Pub and the Frontier! I lip sang Si Voy a Perderte at the Pub and sang live Don’t Wanna Lose You at the Frontier. I got such a major response from the audience too, it was amazing, and I felt so confident too, and really, really enjoyed myself. There were several weeks at both places and I don’t know when the finals will be at the Pub but the finals at the Frontier will be July 28th and me and Andy are both in it competing together for $1,000! The one at the Pub is gonna be for $500, but like I said, I don’t know when yet. I’m gonna sing Si Voy a Perderte live.

Last Saturday we had rehearsals for the opening song, Vogue, that we’re all doing and funny enough, I am the lead dancer. We have rehearsals again next Saturday. Last Saturday, Bruce, Chuck and Rachel didn’t show up so they lost points and I hate to say it but I was glad cuz they’re great performers. The MC, Wally, made us pick a number out of a hat and I picked 6 so that means I’ll be the sixth one to perform. Andy was number 2 which pissed him off, and now he’s even more pissed cuz he’s number 1 as Bruce is now refusing to perform when Andy told him he’d be number 1 at his store today. They say it isn’t good to be number 1-4 cuz the judges tend to forget about you once they get up in numbers. I just hope to hell Chuck and Rachel don’t show up, but then again, I’m sure Renee will and she’s good. There are going to be 4 judges and so Wally says they cannot fix it or play any favoritism, but my main worry is Chuck cuz he’s gonna sing live and he is good. I mean good. And also, he’s not a real woman.

Later…

I thought I had therapy today, but I guess not. When I went down there today Martha was nowhere to be found and the receptionist whom I know but keep forgetting her name said she’s got me written down for tomorrow at 10:00. Why I don’t know, cuz she told me she was changing the time to late afternoon at 4:00. Rose said she’d call me later.

Bill is here now with Cindy who’s pretty good, but he also has some sorry cases. I bet he can make them all good, though, after all he’s done for me.

Brenda’s gone to Palmer for the night to babysit her son, daughter, a foster child, and 3 other kids who all live with her sister Donna and her brother-in-law Kevin V. He’s a cab driver who used to know Crystal C.

Since I haven’t yet written about 30-year-old Brenda S, I’ll start by saying that I met her through Tom next door, who she was seeing and also living with till he moved out. She’s 5’ 6” with dark eyes and dark hair to the middle of her back. She’s a quarter Cherokee. She’s too thin, too. I had met her many weeks before we actually had begun speaking to each other and noticed her very, very intense stare as I was coming into the building and she and Tom were on their way up from the laundry room and to the apartment next to me. So finally, several weeks later, she came over and said, “I don’t mean to be personal, but are you gay?” When I said yes, she told me she was bi and that she liked Tom but that he can be very immature at times since he’s only 18 and very vulnerable. She also told me she had been married for 10 years and of course, like most males, he beat her up and used her for sex and he also fucked her over as far as the kids go. Also, the courts screwed her over just like they always do when it comes to women and children. They’re living with her sister and Kevin who have been married 10 years and they seem happy and Brenda’s glad they’re still in the family even though she misses them to death.

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mental-illness-bingo · 2 years ago

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Sorry it's been silent here. Waiting on results from 2 people on my team who wanted to do some evals independently of each other's results. Waiting on hearing what they both think. I answered as honestly as I could in-session, which isn't easy for me because I'm used to covering things up on purpose, but I still worry masking and stereotypes may get in the way of me getting diagnosed.

One did the evals looking at diagnostic criteria and asking questions based around it whilst the other did paper self-reports. She handed me them back afterwards since she xeroxed the answers to score after the session. I looked up their scoring and just going by the numbers, I qualify for both. Idk 100% how those work though; not sure if just scoring above the average plus the MOE means you definitely have it.

I've known about one for a couple years. The other... I guess I've just not been admitting it to myself, but people in my life have said they suspected for a long, long time.

Still, even though I already know that there's a firm possibility of adding two stigmatized diagnoses to my bingo card... there's a grieving process that comes with that knowledge. There'll be another one if/when I get the official call from both of them.

My therapist I can brace for - we meet on a specific day of the week, almost every week. Psych on the other hand... well that's just waiting for a call back and maybe calling to check in if I still haven't heard back by next week.

I'm being gentle with myself as best I can, but it's coming out at the people close to me. I wish I knew how to stop that because I know I'll want them when these calls come and pushing them away is gonna feel the worst then. I'm trying. I'm really trying.

For the time being... I am just letting myself be a little tired. I think I deserve to.

#mibingo vent #mibingo

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soggypotatoes · 2 years ago

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why am i flipping so quickly between ‘this person is EVIL and NOT to be trusted they long to HURT me and i must STAY away’ and *literally falling in love with them* djksjfhgjksdfhgk and it’s many people too, like multiple nurses, caught myself gazing at the PSYCHIATRIST today thinking wow he is a fun teddy bear i want to sleep next to him TF??? the other day u were going insane over how much u hate this psychiatrist and want to move hospitals just to get away from him jdfhkgjdsf i know it’s because my trauma activated brain’s going nuts but PLS.......

#n theres 2 nurses im in love with and a bunch that im attached to and all of them i am also scared of #one of the ones i love so much asked me today why i jump every time she comes up to me #and was like 'most people only do that when theyre doing something wrong you know'#the truth is i equally think you might kill me in my sleep or otherwise try to attack me but also. i do think abt marrying you sometimes #ITS COMPLICATED #guys dont even read this post im just being mentally ill #ed mumbles #my brains doing weird things #psychiatrist is fine btw #i think he doesnt quite know what to do with me #but hes talked with my therapist now which has given him some insight so its a bit better #and hes including me more in my care #brain thats not a reason to start having romantic daydreams about him jdjfkhgksjdf #youre a whole lesbian and also currently extremely asexual and greyromantic #why am i doing this #gonna try to psych myself up to admit this to my psych she will have. insights for sure #ive told her the most embarrassing personal shit you can think of and i cant tell her this lmao #ive told her about my weird dodgy kinks/attractions (that i dont experience atm cause my sexuality's switched off but still)#told her abt my fanfiction i wrote as a teen #i can tell her im randomly falling in love with everyone and also hating them its fine #at least its not happening with her #ive seen her mostly over zoom anyway #and i specifically avoid looking at the screen too much cause i dont want my brain to develop anything weird around her haha #it's just ATTACHMENT/?? ATTACHMENT HERE???? HERE??? THIS PERSON??? NO THIS PERSON??? ATTACHMENT WHERE #CALM DOWN AND ATTACH TO THE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY WANT TO ATTACH WITH YOU #STOP AVOIDING THEM ALL AND NOT RESPONDING TO ANYONE SO YOU CAN INSTEAD DO THIS #DJFHLGSDHFG;KSDJHFGLKSUJRHDGFLIUSDHFJLGIUSDHGLISUDHGLIUSDG #the psychiatrist + those two nurses are so cute tho 🥰

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muertawrites · 2 years ago

Note

omg I saw that little note at the end about you maybe making a fic based off sk8er boi 👀 can’t wait if you decide to write it!!

A Girl You Used to Know (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Word Count: 900 (exactly too??? i'm a fucking witch. not editing this.)

Author's Note: did i watch a nearly 20 year old sims 2 music video for this song to psych myself up for writing this? no shame in admitting i did. is this a direct callout post to all the cheerleader!reader fics polluting this godforsaken hellsite? maybe. we'll see how much hate mail i have to ignore. this one is for my alt babes. we all know eddie would like us better.

"I can't do this anymore."

She blinked, uncomprehending.

"What?"

Eddie huffed. He uncrossed his arms, shoulders hunching, tense. Angry.

"I can't keep... fucking you like I don't feel anything for you. Like you don't get off on the fact that I'm corrupting you or some shit. Sneaking around while you're too ashamed to go out in fucking public with me."

She laughed, and he seethed. The broad actually laughed at him.

"Are you serious?" she quipped. "You're dumping me? You're dumping me. Eddie 'The Freak' is dumping the one girl in Hawkins who can have anyone she wants."

"Yeah," he spat back at her. "I am. And I have a feeling I'm not gonna regret it."

She cackled, waving her manicured hand in his face as if to dismiss him.

"That's so rich!" she cheered. "You really are as dumb as they say. You clearly don't realize how totally out of your league I am. How lucky you are that I even let you kiss me in the first place, let alone take my virginity."

"Well, if I could give it back to you, I would. I don't want any part of you anymore. I'm done being used for whatever sick fetish you're trying to fulfill."

The conversation comes back to him vividly, playing out almost in real time as she approaches him. She's definitely out of place here - blonde hair immaculately curled, pinned back with a pearl barrette, white mini skirt under a powder blue sweater. But she smiles at him all the same, running into his arms like the lover he once thought she was.

"Eddie!" she squeals.

"Bethany," he deadpans. His arms go weak at her sides, falling limp with disdain. Her perfume is way too strong, too musky; he gags on the toxic cloud that envelops him.

"I'm so proud of you!" the little cherub squeaks as they part. "I saw your music video on MTV the other day and just had to come see you! You're, like, a major rockstar now!"

She giggles in the way she thinks is infectious, but is actually just vapid. Empty. A hand raises to her cheek to swipe at a stray curl that's stuck in her lip gloss, and Eddie can't ignore the glint of the diamond on her ring finger.

"I didn't think you liked metal," is all he can bring himself to say.

"What, I can't support an old flame?" she asks, giggling still. The sound grates at the inside of his skull.

"You know I'm married," he blurts.

It's a lie, but she blanches all the same.

"O...Oh?"

Her smile falters and she can't hide it. Head cheerleader, homecoming queen, the princess of Hawkins, Indiana has lost her flawless grace.

"Yeah," Eddie confirms.

"But you don't wear a ring?"

"Looks like you do, though."

Your voice cuts through the backstage din, sidling up next to Eddie and wrapping a protective arm around his waist. He physically calms, melting into your touch as easily as he would a warm shower. He gives your bum an appreciative squeeze, loving your vicious gall against the groupies.

"Bethany," he announces smugly, "this is my girlfriend."

"Pleased to meet you!" You smile, holding out a hand for the woman to shake. She takes it reluctantly, the spread of her lips entirely forced.

"I thought you said you were married," she practically growls.

"Well, common law," you state. "We've lived together for what... a year now? Anyway. You're Bethany! Eddie's told me so much about you." You don't give her the decency of keeping the venom from your tongue. "He actually wrote a song about you!"

She perks up at that, seeing something she can hold against you.

"He did?" she coos. "Oh, he was always such a romantic. Which one was it?"

"It's not released yet," Eddie tells her. "I'm actually letting her do the vocals. She sang the demo and the label loved her too much to let me take over."

He grins proudly, hugging you even closer to his side. Bethany looks like she's going to fucking explode.

"We'll send you an LP when we get the final cut!" you offer. "Here, give us your address."

You hand her a bar napkin and an eyeliner pencil, which she sneers at but accepts. After scribbling down the information, she passes it back to Eddie, who grins as his eyes scan over it.

"Still in good ol' Hawkins," he notes. "And your name's Carver now? You actually married that fucking prick?"

You halfheartedly smack his chest, shaking your head at Bethany.

"Guys like him," you muse. "Can't take them anywhere, can you?"

Your eyes cut into hers like twin chainsaws. She's so worked up she's practically vibrating with resentment.

"Well," she ekes, "it was... wonderful to see you again, Eddie. And to meet your... lovely... girlfriend."

She spits the word like used tobacco.

You and Eddie wait until she's around the corner to collapse into hysterics, leaning against each other for support as you savor her absolute destruction.

A few months later, Bethany drives to the grocery store, her infant son screaming in the back seat. She turns up the radio to drown him out, only for the disc jockey to introduce a familiar name: Corroded Coffin.

The lyrics that flow through her speakers make her grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled rage.

Too bad that you couldn't see,

See the man that boy could be.

There is more than meets the eye.

I see the soul that is inside.

🌹💀get your eddie fix💀🌹

#this fic brought to you by the aggressive canadian way avril says 'sorry' in this song #muerta's works #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x alt!reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #corroded coffin #eddie munson

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bakubub · 3 years ago

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In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years ago

Text

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something”

Word Count: 3,887

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao.

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law.

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.”

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?”

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,”

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?”

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head.

“Alex isn’t available?”

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?”

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.”

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit.

“You have no evidenc—”

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit, “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.”

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you.

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford, I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?”

Bradford lunges, but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—”

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.”

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.”

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says.

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?”

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.”

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?”

“To go home? Yes,”

“I just wanted—”

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?”

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him.

But surprisingly his voice was soft, “I wanted to make sure you were okay,”

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—”

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.”

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?”

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head.

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.”

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.”

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.”

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—”

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.”

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes.

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—”

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,”

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—”

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—”

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—”

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?”

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—”

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?”

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom, “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,”

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers.

It would be fine.

You would be fine.

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you.

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—”

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face.

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—”

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder, “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.”

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?”

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.”

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—”

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.”

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself.

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.”

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—”

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him.

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?”

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,”

“Do I ever?”

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?”

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—”

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—”

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.”

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,”

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?”

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.”

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head.

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?”

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?”

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.”

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—”

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—”

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.”

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?”

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over?

No, wait he was that stupid.

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks.

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine, “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table.

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning.

What if they found your body?

What if Munch found your body?

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid.

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture.

And you didn’t know what was worse.

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free, “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists, “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.”

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help.

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle.

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet.

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose.

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—”

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.”

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—”

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.”

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,”

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently.

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.”

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least.

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder.

It was over.

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.”

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,”

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened—

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down.

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you.

But you were also a victim now.

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair.

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?”

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.”

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in.

“—been asleep?”

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.”

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking.

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,”

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?”

“Well—”

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms.

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,”

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,”

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’”

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,”

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought.

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.”

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—”

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—”

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,”

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?”

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,”

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name.

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips.

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing.

“Why...?”

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?”

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.”

“I could say the same to you, counselor,”

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense.

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush.

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir.

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips, “I’m gonna suck something.”

#john munch #john munch x reader #john munch imagines #john munch fanfiction #svu imagines #svu #law and order: svu #what the fuck is this dkfsnjfn

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sjweminem · 3 years ago

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This might be a dumb question but. How do they know when you can stop doing ect? Is it just when you feel better lol?? Like when are you ready? Do you have to tell them or??? Do they tell you??? How can they tell it's worked well enough that you don't need to come so often???

not dumb!! to many this is still a rather mysterious kind of treatment!

before and after each session, at least at the highly acclaimed hospital at which i'm fortunate enough to be treated and is accessible to me locationally, there is an extensive catchup and evaluation with your whole team. they administer periodic depression screenings as well to monitor changes- positive or negative. very much a team effort all around, and i imagine planning your session-tapering and long-term maintenance appt schedule would be no different. if they know you're still suffering they're certainly not gonna just kick you out of the program, even if you've already received the "standard" number of sessions. i have already received more than double that and haven't even begun to taper off (i.e. i still go 3x a week) because of my poor state.

it is also very much my responsibility to be honest (admittedly in careful, calculated ways that don't lead to legally-obligated, forced admission to their inpatient psych program.....i'm no rookie to toeing that very thin line lol) and, VERY importantly, advocate for myself. there's a reason the intensity of my treatment has increased four times so far. this aspect was a bit strange at first; i'm not used to psych professionals really, truly listening to me. i've been in the MH system for two decades and had gotten used to those professionals defaulting to THEIR expertise and abiding by THEIR protocols regardless of my desperate assertion of my own misery. i've gotten used to only making vague allusions to my su*cidality to avoid involuntary commitment. all it takes is ONE slip-up, ONE wrong word, and once it's said there's no going back.

However (this paragraph is more of a side-note so feel free to skip) my wonderful ECT doctors and nurses trust that i'm getting this treatment because i WANT to get better, and that when i tell them something isn't working, or that i don't think i can endure long enough to "wait and see" due to my severe su*cidality, it's the truth, and also proves i'm not ready to give up. yesterday, actually, for probably the first time, i spoke frankly about exactly how i would kill myself should this not work. i've planned out every detail. i even admitted to fantasizing about it all the time- all details about which no one else in the world knows, but i explained it all to the psychiatrist in my post-tx meeting because i trusted she understood and listened to me. i trusted she would connect the dots between a.) my showing up to each session and verbalizing my needs, to b.) the fact that you CAN be su*cidal without automatically being a danger to yourself, and have to be put away.

since my treatment approach has crossed over into more Hardcore territory, when i reach and my own desired version of wellness and stability (i say "when" instead of "if" bc i'm trying to be optimistic for once in my fucking life), and i've been in that mental state long enough to feel safe and confident in it and have expressed as such, we will begin the weaning/tapering process. there are several methods for doing so, in my case likely a combo of reverting to the "beginner" tx settings and coming in 2x per week instead of 3 and seeing how i do; if i remain stable; then following the same process of lower-impact settings and fewer visits. the goal is to reach "maintenance" territory, in which i'd only need to come in once per month, like a booster. i would remain on my medication cocktail.

it's all very personalized and, at this wicked high quality clinic at least, the patient seems to have the final say. idk what it's like elsewhere but if you google "mclean hospital" you'll get what i mean lol (i have lots of history w them too which is nice). it also helps a lot that the ECT staff is so experienced, so they know what to look for in their recovering patients, AND warning signs for which to watch out, that the patients themselves may not personally recognize. you won't just be thrown to the wolves.

all in all it's about trust. and i quite literally trust my team with my life.

#i know this got wicked long sorry abt that lmao it's just....#not super easy to discuss something like ELECTROCONVULSIVE THERAPY in brief??#plus it is soooo misunderstood i wanna seize any opportunity presented to give my two cents. ya know?#and i'm perfectly happy answering anyone's questions. but i think yall know that about me by know 😭😳#and i've never checked if this is an at-all used tag but if so i'm tagging it bc i'd like to hope this could help anyone:#electroconvulsive therapy #ECT #electroshock therapy #anonymous #correspondence

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years ago

Text

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing.

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company.

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

“Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked.

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

“Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

“You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

“I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again.

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him.

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

“If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants.

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest.

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has.

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is…

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”

#GOT7 #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #Jaebeom smut #Jaebeom x Reader #Jay B #Defsoul #GOT7 smut #Werewolf AU #GOT7 Werewolf AU

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