#i am so fucking angry. i am so fucking sad&emotionally drained. it has been such a long week.

[jvzebel-x]

[ID1: Instagram caption by @iamjuicychild reads, "Please HELP ME We need u world my friend was killed this past Friday in South Central LA near Century and Main There has been no new coverage no nothing!!!! she was a young stripper always about her grind and never in the mix... she either went to work or she was home with the love of her life her cat karey... she had NO family here just close friend... i need to find her mother i know she lives either in Ohio or Florida from what i recall her telling me!! They recently saw each other after ten years of not seeing each other n now i need help to let her know and come claim her body before it's too late!! Please if u have details on who could've possibly hurt my friend inbox me or call me 7185008429... i will do everything i have to do" /ID]

[ID2: text messages that read, "they didn't even put it on the news dude. they just gonna throw her case away cause she was a h** or a stripper or whatever she had no family just close friends out here" /ID]

[ID3: comment by @lovely.e187 reads, "I live down the street where it happened&I didn't even know dammm that shit didn't even come out on our citizens app alert" /ID]

her name was Katrina-- her stage name was Russia. she was a young dancer and she was murdered on Friday, February 3rd, 2023. because she was a young stripper with no family support, her body is in danger of being incinerated by the state (interesting how quickly they're moving to destroy a murder victims body without an autopsy-- or at all, frankly, with how backed up state morgues tend to be). her murder has made no headlines; the only information you will find about her or her murder at all right now is from the video linked here, made by her friend, begging for information about Russia's murder or her family. the comment section is full of dancers who knew her, all devastated&demanding justice-- the only people, as always, demanding justice for another dead sex worker.

please, if anyone has any information on either Russia's murder (which took place in South Central LA, near Century and Main) or any next of kin that can be notified of her death so as to claim her body (her friends only lead is a mother that Russia recently reconnected with who she believes lives in either Ohio or Florida but may live in Maryland), please contact @iamjuicychild on IG or call at 7185008429.

to any&all sex workers, but especially workers in South Central LA right now, i'm sending all my love. stay safe&stay vigilant.

(video dialogue beneath the cut; i can't download the clip, so this is the best i can do):

video dialogue by @iamjuicychild, posted on February 6th, 2023:

"I never thought I would be the one making one of these videos, crying on camera. I don't even like to cry, but listen, I need help. My friend was murdered on Friday. We need to find who the fuck did this to her. If you know her, her name is Russia, her real name is Katrina, we need information, I need this to be shared, please. Like, we need her mom to find out what happened to her so she can claim her body, or else the police is just gonna push her, like throw her case away and not investigate and not do anything. Please, if you guys could please share, if anybody knows anything-- like I know what happened to her, but if you have any info regarding her mom or who could have possibly set her up, please fill me in, you feel me? like she wasn't a bad person, it had to be personal shit. What happened to my friend? She was murdered. Like, she was young, she didnt deserve that. All she cared about, you know, was hustling, working. She didn't hurt nobody, she fucking loved her cat. And now she's gone. And we need her mom to find out, we need to find her so she can bury her and know that her daughter was murdered. Please, share this shit."

[stepfordgoth]

So I downloaded the fucking app, right, because of the aforementioned problem finding my grandma's grave (I mentioned it Monday, in the post before the one I'm reblogging now.... don't wanna rehash it but you're welcome to go find it and read it). So I downloaded the app on Monday, and today I went back to the cemetery to try again to find her (I was just too emotionally drained yesterday to make another attempt). And the app was actually INCREDIBLY helpful. I again went to section 21, opened the app and found grandma's name, and it literally gave me walking directions to the exact spot where I'd find her and my grandpa. So that's actually really nice. It turns out I had walked right by their gravesites multiple times on Monday when I was trying to find them, and I guess I just didn't see them.

However.........

It's likely that I didn't see them on Monday because I was looking for a double headstone. I'd visited my grandpa's grave with my dad when I was a kid and I also saw a photo of his headstone on the cemeterys website on Monday when I was looking for a map, but I assumed that because they died almost 30 years apart that when my grandma died it would be, I don't know, I guess converted to a double headstone? And it wasn't.

My poor grandma doesn't even have a headstone. There is just a blank space beside my grandpa's grave. Her name isn't even there. I am sad and angry about it. She deserves so much better.

What it probably comes down to is that no one in my dad's side of the family had the money to buy a headstone for her, and that also makes me unreasonably angry. How is it that between my dad and his brother, who are both grown men between the ages of 50 and 70, they couldn't find the money to buy a headstone for their mother?

(my grandpa, by the way, was a marine in WW2 and I'm pretty sure his headstone is the default veteran one that my family probably didn't have to pay for.)

My uncle, honestly, gets a bit of a pass.... he's pretty severely disabled and has been for a number of decades, and I know he and his wife live off of their combined disability and social security (and etc) income. Fair enough, I can not fault him for that. He is genuinely a victim of circumstances outside of his control, and he's always been a very sweet, loving and kind man to everyone.

My dad, though..... I'm inclined to believe that he is poor because of his own, constant, shitty decision making over the span of his lifetime. He's always been a working man, always has money to go out for dinner, presumably always had money to entertain the multiple girlfriends he's always had (you don't get multiple girlfriends and wives by being a broke bitch lol). I'm really struggling to understand why he couldn't buy his mother a headstone. It's fucking disgraceful! Surely as a working man his whole life he should have SOME kind of savings right? Unless he's wasted it all away making poor choices. Which.... kinda sounds like him honestly.

I want to grab him by the shoulders and fucking SHAKE him. "How the fuck are you in your mid 50s and have been working your whole life and you're still this poor????" I know it's easy for me to say this because I broke out of the poverty cycle that both of my parents seem to be stuck in, by making a series of incredibly lucky decisions, and that not everyone is so lucky. But still, I do not understand. He had even been working for decades before the current cost of living crisis happened! What happened to all of his money? Why is he so stupid????

It makes me SO fucking mad.

"oh well did you know that there's an app you can use to locate your relatives gravesites in Catholic Cemeteries Association certified cemeteries?"

[yourmidnightlover]

never go back

Summary: spencer notices how your boyfriend takes advantage of you and finally does something about it.

TW: titty sucking, oral (female receiving), cheating, dom!spencer, scratching, slapping (only one), cursing, choking, spencer dirty talk lol, penetrative sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,724

A/N - i'm using noah as the 'other man' schtick in probably all of my future one shots bc i can't find it within myself to create a new character each and every time. so your douche of a bf will always be noah miller. if you ever get a nice bf i'll be sure to change his name but for now this is what we're working with. got it? got it.

masterlist

-------------------------------

there are many things that people should go back to. schooling, maybe an old job, an old vacation spot.

your boyfriend was not one of those things.

mostly because your boyfriend sucked.

it was now a fact that spencer reid himself had come to believe quite a while ago and now, well now he had reason.

he had always felt as though you were too good for noah, similar for practically anyone in existence (himself included). he was always a complete ass to you no matter the circumstance.

there was one time the entire team had been back really late from a case that took a toll on all of you. it was emotionally and physically draining. the flight back had been delayed because of weather issues in the state you had been in, meaning you couldn't leave until days after it was solved.

any time you had gone to answer the phone, spencer would be able to see your stance and body language through the glass window. you had been apologizing for something you couldn't even control. you would narrow your brows the way you only did when you were being yelled at. you bit your lip the way you did when you were being made to feel guilty.

he was guilt tripping you for something you couldn't even control.

when you had gotten back it wasn't any better. noah had been giving you the cold shoulder. he was defensive when you asked what was wrong.

and that was only 3 weeks into the relationship.

after being together for 2 months, you had gotten flowers delivered on your desk. you assumed they were from your boyfriend, reasonably so, and went to go thank him. spencer saw the shock in your eyes when you saw your boyfriend huddled in the corner with some new intern. spencer saw the look in your eye change from sadness to anger in the blink of his own.

you took a deep breath, and walked away from the situation, completely missing the way he tucked the intern's hair behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper something to make her giggle. when you got back to your desk you threw the flowers in the garbage can, not even bothering to read the note.

it was pretty indirect, but looking into it he realized it was an issue that should've been addressed. every time the team would go out together, everyone was clearly invited. you would always decline because 'noah wanted to take me out tonight' or 'noah said he needs me, so i'll have to rain check'.

it wasn't because you were a bad person, the opposite actually. it was because noah was taking advantage of your kindness.

because any time you needed him, 'noah's out with the boys' or 'noah had to work late' or, here's a kicker, 'noah had a hard time at work'. as if you don't have a hard time looking at dead bodies while he just has to write up reports.

even when you got injured during a case, shot in the shoulder, noah seemed as though he couldn't have cared less. he wouldn't even go to your apartment to visit you while you were in recovery because 'noah didn't have time to visit'.

spencer could even recall when you went out with the girls one night, spencer being the designated driver, that you had told them how 'noah didn't want you to dress too provocatively so you had to wear something more modest'.

now, spencer doesn't care all to much about what you wear because, frankly, it's none of his business. but now that he heard how noah cared oh-so-much, he decided to wrack his brain for the 'provocative' outfits you've worn. there was not a single one that anyone should make a comment about. you looked stunning no matter what you wore, so you'd grab any man's attention no matter the clothing on your body.

but spencer? he made sure to never be that much of an asshole to you. he made sure to make up for him being an asshole.

he would grab you some morning coffee like you always had before you had a boyfriend. he would make sure to tell you that you looked lovely when you were able to go out with the team. he would visit you when you injured yourself and were lonely, he even stayed back for a few days with you to help you get through it.

hell, he was the one to get you the flowers. you had been having a rough week and spencer thought it might cheer you up. he had gifted you a bouquet of 12, blue chiffon flowers because those were your favorite.

but this was his breaking point. you had come to his apartment, once again in the middle of the night, talking about noah fucking miller cheating on you.

he had done it once before when he was 'out with the boys' you decided to stop by when he said he'd be back, wanting to just be the amazing girlfriend that you are. so when you walk in and hear your boyfriend moaning along with another woman that isn't you, you immediately run back out. you run back out and drive all the way to spencer's.  

and here you are again. spencer wasn't mad at you, it was noah he was mad at. he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

spencer had always liked you, no, he's always loved you. everything about you. how could he not? you're perfect.

but loving you how he does and seeing you being used as a toy to fuck for a certain noah miller not only made his heart ache but also made his blood boil.

spencer wasn't an idiot. he had heard the way the old morgan had referred to women. the thing is, noah is way more of a fuckboy than the old morgan ever was. and that scared spencer to pieces. he knew that you would only be missing out on team outings just to get fucked by a douchebag. he knew that the only reason said douchebag wouldn't visit you was because you couldn't fuck. he knew that the reason said douchebag was cornering that intern was to fuck her, too.

so when you arrived at spencer's place, this time you weren't crying. you were furious. you were angry and upset, as was spencer.

"he did it again, spence," you breathed out as you paced across his living room floor. "i was supposed to meet him in a few hours but i was going to surprise him and i caught him with another tramp! i didn't even confront him. i just- i just left!"

"cheated? noah?" he asked as if he didn't believe it at first, not wanting to seem like as much of a dick as noah.

"yes! cheated. god! i am so ANGRY!" you ran your hand through your hair, a grunt leaving your mouth. "and... and frustrated! and... UGH!" you sighed aggressively.

"and what?" spencer asked as he stood up, slowly making his way to you. "what else?" he said, his hand now brushing that stubborn strand of hair behind your ear.

"i-i'm..." you trailed off, getting lost in his beautiful eyes.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit how much you loved spencer. but you thought he'd never love you like that. not since you helped him through jj getting married. he really thought she was it for him, at least that's what you'd come to think he believed. over the years you had grown so much closer and grown such an attraction for each other that the other person knew about. it was ironic, truly.

"say it, y/n," spencer leaned over you, his lips ghosting over yours. "i need to hear you say it."

"god, just kiss me," you said, your hands flying to the back of his hair to push his mouth to yours.

there was no hesitation from spencer to give you everything he had. his hand on the side of your face remained there as his other hand drifted to your waist to pull you closer to his body. your tongues met fervently with covetous, passion, and longing yet with just gentle firmness that felt protecting and as if it was how everything was supposed to be.

"please, spencer," you quietly whispered once you unlatched from one another.

"please what, princess," he asked, his hand running through your hair.

"i just... i need you," she pleaded with him, her hands still tugging gently on his hair. "please," you put your foreheads together, breathing in each others air as you silently begged him to help you in any way that he could.

"i'd do anything for you," he whispered so delicately as if the entire team were standing right beside you. "you know i'd do anything for you."

"then do something," you demanded.

spencer took action by kissing you just as intensely as before, this time his hands went to your ass. he grabbed your thighs to signal for you to jump, once you did you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you into his bedroom. he set you down just in front of the bed before you began to undo his shirt, him returning the favor by undoing yours.

"god, i've wanted you for so long," he growled, nipping gently at your earlobe as he laid you back on the bed. "lift your hips," he ordered, you obeyed his every command. you always would. "good girl," he praised as he ran his hands down your now bare waist.

"please," you begged, your hips bucking up to get any source of friction. "spencer..." you trailed off.

"i know, princess. i know," he said before climbing on top of you, connecting your lips with his once again, this time much more eager than before if that were possible.

as you arched your back, he took the opportunity to unclasp the hook on your bra. you shrugged it off your shoulders to allow him to throw the bra somewhere else in his room. he finally took a breath, removing his lips from yours to admire the view in front of him.

"god, you're so beautiful," he growled before placing gentle but eager kisses along the tops of your breasts, massaging the one his mouth wasn't on.

he pressed his knee between your legs, allowing you to buck your hips up to get that release you wanted so bad. you whined as he took your nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking past it rapidly as he occasionally nibbled on it gently.

"spen-spencer," you ran your hands through his hair, tugging gently on the roots.

"mmm," he sat his head up, trailed kisses up your throat. "god, i love you so much."

"i-i love you," you moaned, pulling his head up to connect your lips together. "i love you so so much."

"i'm so glad to hear that," he huffed a sigh of relief. "because otherwise it'd be awkward when i did this," he began trailing kisses down your body, leading down towards your center. "i'll show you what it's like to be with a man that actually loves and respects you, yea? show you what it feels like to actually be pleased by a man? what it's like to be with a real man?" he teased.

his fingers trailed around your entrance, gathering your arousal that'd been building for what felt like ages. he pressed gentle kisses around your pussy before finally connecting his lips with your clit, a low groan emitting from your body because of the contact.

"yes, please," you shot your head back, relishing in the feeling of the direct skin contact.

"hey," spencer slapped your thigh, your head shot back up to see him between your legs, a truly beautiful sight that you'd never get tired of. "eyes on me," he demanded before going back down on you, not breaking eye contact as he brought out sounds from you that you weren't even sure you could make. "talk to me, princess. let me know how it feels."

"fe-feels so good," you sighed, taking your breasts in your hands and massaging them. "i-i can-can't even think," you stuttered out, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

you had felt so good as he sucked on your clit, succeeding in bringing you closer to the edge than noah ever has, but when he inserted two fingers into your entrance...

"oh my fuck!" your hands shot down to grab onto his locks, pushing him further into your body, a low groan leaving him.

his fingers didn't stop their work. he curled them at just the right spot, sending you flying over the edge. spencer used his free hand to grab onto your thigh to keep them from closing in completely on his head, still working you through your high. he placed a kiss on your clit once more before he brought his head up to you, connecting your lips passionately.

"could noah ever make you come like that? huh? could he make you feel so good you could barely even think?" he grabbed your chin in his hands, holding it in place to look at him as you shook your head the best you could. "no?"

"mm-mm," you tried to shake your head 'no' once more.

"did you think of him while i was going down on you? were you thinking about how he fucked that little tramp?" he asked harshly, you shook your head 'no' again. "oh, what were you thinking, princess?" he finally released your face so you could speak.

"ab-about how well you know my body. about how, how good you looked between my legs. about how much i love you," you replied quickly, knowing exactly what to say.

"right answer," he connected your lips once more. "what do you want, love?" he asked, peppering soft kisses along your jaw where his hands once held your throat firmly.

"you. i-i want you in-inside me," you swallowed, your hand finding his and pulling it up to your lips to press a kiss to it, then another, then another, then another. "please, doctor?" you used your best puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist.

"god, call me that again," he rasped lowly.

"what... doctor?" you took his hand and started sucking on his fingers, letting them slip in and out slowly and then moving onto the next.

"fuck, yes," he growled as he pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up at your center. "are you sure, princess?" he traced your jaw with the fingers you were previously sucking on.

"yes, sir," you nodded. "i'm sure."

you felt him slowly push inside of you slowly to allow you to adjust to his size. you had your suspicions of how big he was, but feeling him inside of you made it all much more real.

"fuck, you're so tight," he moaned into your ear quietly as he slowly pulled back out, going in just as slow.

"sp-spence-"

"wrong," he slapped your face gently, a whimper leaving your lips before he grasped your face to make you look him in the eyes.

"doc-doctor," you corrected yourself.

"good girl," he said, feeling your pussy clench from the praise. "oh you like that?" he felt it again. "maybe you just like hearing me talk, yea?" his pace began picking up slowly. "you like hearing how this pussy makes me feel? how tight... and warm... and wet it is?"

"u--uh huh," you nodded your head the best you could as he began thrusting much more rapid, hitting that special spot inside of you with each movement.

"it seems like you haven't felt this good in a long time huh? haven't had your pussy pounded like this in a while?" he asked as he was catching his breath.

"ne-never, doctor," you confirmed, hands reaching around his back and dragging your nails down, surely leaving scratch marks all down them.

"fuck," he growled. "noah never made you feel this good princess? never made you forget how to speak in sentences? never knew how to get you going like this?"

"n-no, no! never! god, never!" you cried as you pulled his body even closer to you. "i-i'm close, please!"

"you wanna come all over my dick, yea? you want to show me how much your pussy loves it when a real man fucks it?"

that was it to let that spring burst inside of you, parts flying everywhere. you cried his name as he worked you through your orgasm, holding onto his shoulders and hair to keep you grounded.

"cum inside me, please," you begged. "fi-fill me up."

"fuck, whatever you want, princess," he kept pounding into you at a rapid pace. "god, i'm gonna come inside you, and send you back to that scumbag of a boyfriend so he can see that you're mine now. so he can see what happens when his girlfriend is mistreated and fucked by someone who knows what they're doing, yea?"

"yea, yea!" you whined, nails digging back into his skin as he released his load into you, thrusting it gently back inside after.

"god, i love you so much," he moaned into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek by your ear.

"i love you," you replied, stroking his hair to help him come down, him still inside of you. he began thrusting inside of you once again.

"don't want any of it to spill out before you get to him," he felt you clench around him one more time. "you're very responsive, princess. i like that about you."

"it-it's just you, spence. it's always been you," you pulled him in for another kiss.

this one was full of passion but not the kind of eagerness. it was full of desire and longing, pent up emotions flowing out into one another fluidly.

"now let me go see my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend," you huffed as he pulled out of you, wincing from the overstimulation. "i'll see you later?"

"i'll see you later," he pressed a kiss to your forehead before helping you gather your clothes.

driving back to his apartment, you felt rather giddy with yourself. should you have felt bad? absolutely not. he's a manipulative asshole who's used you for sex on numerous occasions, so he deserved the bittersweet irony of what was coming to him.

*get it, coming to him? lol i'm sorry i had to :)*

you knocked on the door softly, greeted by a rather chipper noah who grabbed your face as soon as he saw you, connecting your lips. his kiss was nothing like spencer's. his lips weren't as soft and tentative. they weren't plump and round, they were harsh and rough and unpleasant.

he quickly led you to the bedroom, not to your surprise. he sat down on the bed, you straddled his hips, acting as if it were spencer instead - which was pretty hard to do after knowing what he was like in the sack.

you felt his boner through his pants quickly after you got on top of him. then when he flipped you over and pulled your pants and underwear down, he was met with a surprise.

"someone's excited to see me," he chuckled before licking a thick stripe from your slit to clit, very aggressive to where it almost hurt to have the pressure. "god you taste so good, doll."

he continued at this for a while, inserting his tongue to your hole very once in a while and licking up yours and spencer's arousal with it. you faked your moans and whimpers as his ministrations became more eager, not really getting you anywhere.

after he was finished with your turn - no, he didn't even make you cum - he laid back on the bed as if he were waiting for you to get on top of him again.

"actually," you stood up from the bed, pulling up your clothes with you. "i'm done with this. we're over."

you watched his face as he took in the information just released to him. it changed from surprised and shocked, to confused, to disgusted, to angry and frustrated.

"what the fuck?" he sat up from the bed, a disgruntled look on his face. "you wait until after you cum to tell me this?" he walked over to you, arms flailing in the air.

"yea. i did. and by the way, i didn't cum," you informed him. "that's something you've never really been good at making me do. although i'm not sure how you've been able to convince me to do anything with the way you treat me."

"what do you mean? i'm a good gu-"

"shut up for one second, please," you rolled your eyes, running your hand through your hair. "i know you've cheated on me numerable times. i stayed because i thought that maybe there was a reason, but i've come to realize that i was just... settling with you," you shrugged.

"you've treated me like crap since this 'relationship' started and i'm tired of it. i know someone who not only treats me with respect and kindness, but can also actually make me cum. shocker," you chuckled.

"who is this asshole? what the hell-"

"i wasn't finished, sweetie," you spat out viciously. "he's not an asshole. you're the asshole. you're the one that's getting dumped. so this is goodbye," you turned around to walk out of his room before leaving him with one more thought. "how did his cum taste with mine?" you tilted your head innocently, smiling at his shocked face as he realized what you meant before walking out.

and you were never more glad that you didn't have to go back to him anymore.

taglist:

@muffin-cup​ @greenprisca​ @averyhotchner​ 

[fabricated-misslieness]

Can you write a scenario for reaper, soldier 76, baptiste,mccree and genji with a s/o who is being sad because reader think that they dont love they anymore but it turns out that they just have too much work or thinks to do? (ik that you dont like angst much me too but can you do some angst at the beginning and it gonna turn into fluff?)

Overwatch Males x gender neutral reader

Features: Baptiste, Genji, McCree, Reaper, and Soldier: 76.

It’s the same scenario for 5 different people so it’s sorta boring. Anyway, I know I don’t do angst but it’s.. really nice to write… but not the same thing... 5 times... in a row.

Sorry this took so long

Requested: Yes

Warning: Angst

Jean-Baptiste Augustin

Lately, you had been feeling lonely. Baptiste wasn’t home often, or at least as much as before. It felt like he was prioritizing his work over you, which was reasonable since he was a medic, but it’s as if he didn’t even care about you anymore.

When he came home, if he even did, he would come late. He wouldn’t leave a note, wouldn’t even kiss you as he lay down beside you.

In the mornings, he wouldn’t leave a trace behind. The only proof of him being there was the faint warmth on his side of the bed, you wouldn’t even feel the warmth yourself.

It’s as if he was gone from your life.

One day, you were fed up. What’s the point of a relationship if you never see each other?

Your plan was to confront him, stay up late until he came home. Then again there were some days where he wouldn’t even come... back.

Back to you…

No, you can’t have sympathy. He’s the one ignoring you.

When he came in, finding you awake on the couch, he was worried immediately. Why had you stayed awake? You need rest. Granted, so did he, but his work needed him more.

“Something wrong, dear?” His face showed worry, though you mistook it for nervousness, for fear.

“You don’t love me anymore.” Straight to the point, you planned. There was no sugar coating it.

“I--” Jean wasn’t expecting this, he was speechless. He had so many things to say but he didn’t know which words to choose. You took his loss for words as him trying to find an excuse.

Your frown was evident. You hoped that he would’ve objected, but he didn’t. “N-Nothing to say?” He could hear the heartbreak in your voice, you could feel the heartbreak in your chest.

“Baptiste, at least say something.”

You weren’t even using his first name. Your eyes told him everything, you were begging for something, anything! Even goodbye..

“I…” He took a deep breath, he still didn’t know what to say. But if he didn’t say anything, you’d just be gone. “I love you.”

Tears pricked both of your eyes. “You don’t.”

“I do! I do, I promise.” He stepped forward, you scooted back on the couch. “I’ve been caught up with work, I swear.”

You laughed in disbelief, thinking about it. Medics were usually overworked, that’s for sure.. He seemed genuine. He couldn’t have been acting, he’s a terrible actor, for one.

You’re so silly. Just because he’s gone, he doesn’t love you.

You laughed pitifully at yourself. The tears streamed freely now, they were tears of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” You gasp out.

“No, I’m sorry.” Baptiste pulled you into his arms.

“I’m so silly.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, prompting you to do the same to him.

“You’re not.” He replies with a smile, just the sight of him alone makes you smile along. “You’re everything but that, you’re my love. You’re my everything.”

 

Genji Shimada

Lately your lovely green cyborg ninja dude had been… distant. That was understatement, you hadn’t even seen him in the past month.

Sure, he didn’t live with you. He was a busy mercenary..or an adventurer..?

He hid a lot of things from you, yet he claimed to love you. Lately, you couldn’t even see it in his eyes. Then again, at least he shows you his unmasked face.

What the hell had he been doing though? He wouldn’t have left you alone without a reason.

He’s spent months away from you without seeing you before, but he’d sent letters, somehow. It’d been a month and a half you had received no letters.

You shouldn’t worry this much, maybe where he is he has no access to.. messengers.

But then, a letter came. The writing was chicken scratch, unlike his usual messy yet uniform writing. It said that he would be coming to you today, or well, whatever today was in the time zone he was at. The thing you noticed, however, was that it had no “I love you”, “I miss you”, “I’m excited to see you again”, just a plain, “I’m coming today - Genji”

Maybe he was in a rush, as an explanation of the chicken scratch.

But it felt odd, it felt off... 

Like the sappy cyborg he was, he’d usually add some poem that he was forced to learn as a child. This time, he had nothing. Even if he was in a rush, as you read one time when he began being chased by wolves mid-writing, he’d find the time to write ‘I love you.’

The whole day you’d spent waiting for his arrival, thinking about his letter and how much it seemed like he didn’t love you anymore.

Sometime after your lunch, he barged into your house.

He immediately took his mask off and ran toward you, encasing you in a hug and smothering your face with kisses.

You tried to see if it was genuine, sincere.

He noticed your frown. His eyebrows furrowed and his smile turned into a frown. “Are you okay, buttercup?” He always used that nickname to cheer you up as he wasn’t to use pet names often.

You could see the love in his eyes clearly.

You sighed bashfully, of course he still loved you. You were overthinking. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Genji brought his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. He finally got to see you again, after all this time.

“I missed you.”

     

Jesse McCree

Jesse had been distant lately, despite living around on your old farm with you. He spent most of his time these days away from you, doing farm work. Even when all his daily work was done, he’d be outside.

He’d have a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other as he left, but if you tried to find him, you wouldn’t be able to. You had no clue where he was and any place you thought of was empty.

When you did see him, he didn’t look happy at all.

It’s as if emotions drained out of him. That alone would bring you to worry, but he wouldn’t kiss you goodnight, he wouldn’t lay next to you in bed.

He said he needed to do something, but what would he be doing at 9 pm?

What the hell could he be doing?

The town was too far from the farm for him to leave without taking the truck, unless he decided to walk like an idiot.

Maybe he just wanted some space.

Was he not liking farm life? He’d been a bounty hunter and vigilante before he settled down with you, though he continued his former ‘hobbies’ every once in a while. Was he not happy with you?

One night, you wanted to know. You wanted answers.

Right after dinner, he moved to leave, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He looked nervous, as if he were hiding something.

You led him to sit with you on the couch. “Jesse, are you happy?”

Jesse mustered a small smile, “Of course I am, darling.” It didn’t seem convincing enough.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Is this because I haven’t been kissing you goodnight?” Jesse laughed, but it sounded quite forced. “I swear, I will tonight.”

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. Jesse could tell you were getting suspicious of him, but he really didn’t want to say what he’d been doing.

“It’s not about that, Jesse.” You sighed. “You don’t seem happy, you don’t seem to want to be around me. Jesse, if something’s wrong with… with us, just tell me.”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong with us.” Jesse struggled to think of what to say, only saying what had just come to his mind.

“Then tell me why you’re distant.” Your voice was raising. 

He didn’t want you to be angry, he really wanted to clear this up but the surprise he had for you… it was worth exposing, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t love you or that he wanted something else.

“Darling,” He took your hands in his to reassure you. “I’ve been working on a surprise, ‘been fixing up the old tractor.”

You laughed in disbelief, you were so stupid but so was he.

“I swear, I’m almost done. You’re only going to have to suffer through this for another couple o’ days.”

You laughed whole-heartedly this time. Your laugh was contagious for the dear cowboy, causing him to join with you.

“You’ve been fixing up a tractor for a month now?” You said when you caught your breath.

Jesse feigned offense, putting a hand on his chest. “I am no technician. Besides, a tractor getting run over by a truck? That’s a hard fix.”

   

Gabriel Reyes

Gabriel didn’t live with you, something you quite understood. He’d told you most of his secrets, which is surprising because of how fucked up they are, but that showed he trusted you.

Though sometimes you hoped he would live with you.

You knew the dangers very well, he made sure to guarantee you understood and knew them. But all the time you spent away from him, you couldn’t help but ask yourself how he was going. Not emotionally, though you were bound to worry about that sometime, but rather physically.

His job was literally murder people, so ‘self-defense’ was imminent.

Usually that’d be what you worried about, but this time, it was more so about your relationship, your love.

The only times you’d seen him the past month or so was him coming for you to patch him up and immediately leaving, and… well, that was it. It’d just happened a few times.

Though when he did come, he wouldn’t bother taking off his mask. He could’ve been in a rush but to be in a rush three times?

Besides, before that he would visit you 3-4 times a month, minimum. He hadn’t come to visit you, not counting the medical help. You wouldn’t consider those ‘visits’ since he wouldn’t stay for long and said barely a word.

No “goodbye”, no “I love you”, no “I’ll be back soon”, no “don’t worry about me.” Just a gruff, straightforward, “Help patch me up.”. Not even a “please”.

It all made you exasperated, thinking and thinking and worrying.

You were exhausted, you wanted an explanation, but most importantly; you wanted to see him, the real him.

You didn’t want this ghost, this cloaked, masked Reaper; you wanted Gabriel Reyes.

Yet he seemed to not want you.

The realisation of the possibility of him falling out of it, out of your love.. it struck you hard; Sent you into a sharp breath, dragging a sob out of your throat and tears from your eyes.

You despised crying, the way it made you vulnerable, the way it made you look hopeless.

That’s how he found you.

In the rush to get to you, he forgot to take off his mask.

The sight was scary, the well-known murderer and Talon council member rushing over to you while you’re at your weakest. He could finish you off that easily.

You were scared for only a second, remembering that this wasn’t just the Reaper, this was Gabriel Reyes, but just barely.

He reached forward to hug you, but you backed off.

It made him confused, why were you trying to get away from him? Then he noticed what he was wearing. He cursed and apologized, quickly taking off what he could.

“What’s wrong, dear?” He only called you pet names seriously when he found it necessary, whatever case it would be necessary was always a mystery to you, until today. When he did use a pet name, it would usually be followed by a chuckle or a grimace.

“Gabriel,” You stopped with a sob. You hated this. You hated the pity in his eyes. You hated how pathetic your voice sounded. “do you love me?”

“Yes, yes, of course I do.” Gabriel replied as fast as he could, he wanted to reassure you. He didn’t want you to think he was finding excuses or lies while he thought about words to say.

“Do you really?” You didn’t let him answer, despite the hiccups and sobs breaking through your words. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been working.” He pulls you into his arms and wipes the tears from your eyes. As much as you wanted to get answers first, you couldn’t resist him.

“Talon’s rivals have forming alliances to throw us off. I swear, we’ll stifle this just as quickly as it started. But in the meantime, I can’t see you as much. I should’ve told you earlier.” He cursed at himself under his breath. He’s been so caught up that he forgot to tell you.

“I’m sorry.” You wipe the tears from your eyes.

“No, no, it’s okay. You have all the reason to react this way.” He smiled at you, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down. “Do you want water?”

“Yeah.”

   

Jack Morrison

It was silly of you to think a masked vigilante would fall in love with you. As far as you knew, you both liked each other and started dating. That was the extent of your relationship, you didn’t know if you loved each other just yet.

You should’ve paid attention to all the movies.

Everytime the protagonist was a vigilante and they had an s/o, they would end up leaving them behind because ‘it wasn’t safe for them’ or the protagonist ends up dying, rarely.

You didn’t want either of those situations to happen, especially the former. You rather he be alive over.. the opposite of that.

Besides, it wouldn’t exactly hurt that much if he left you. As mentioned before, you just like each other, not.. loved… 

You were lying to yourself.

You did love each other, it would hurt a lot if he left you.

All of this just because he wasn’t showing you his maskless face. You were curious as to how he looked like, sure, but you didn’t want to pressure him into showing you.

You just felt that if he loved you and if he trusted you, he’d show you.

You hadn’t even seen him in months either. There was a possibility he’d already left you, without even leaving a note.

But Jack wasn’t this way, he isn’t the type of person who would just up and leave.

Then again, you couldn’t know that for certain. He held a lot of secrets from you. So many that you wouldn’t know if he was putting up an act around you.

You respected his secrets but you wanted to know the real him.

At the start, you thought he liked you. It didn’t seem like that these days. If he truly loved you, he would give you his secrets.

That’s… something very rude and wrong, but you didn't feel like he was trustworthy anymore with all the secrets you knew he was keeping from you.

The days blurred by without him, you don’t remember when was the last time you saw him.

He came to you one evening, injured and asking for your help.

Of course, you gave it to him, though you guessed you looked bitter by the fact that Jack was worried about you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your reply was harsher than you meant it to be.

Jack doubted your answer. “Are you sure?”

You sighed, accidentally wrapping one of his bandages too tight from frustration, making him wince. “Sorry, it’s just. I know we haven’t exchanged these.. words, but…” You were planning on saying those ‘magical words’ but you didn’t want to until you made sure it was mutual. “Jack, it seems like you’re falling out.. feelings.”

“What? No, I still like-- I love you.” The words surprised you, but how could you know he truly meant them when he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he said that?

“If you did, you would tell me your secrets. You would show me your…” The determination in your words faltered as Jack slipped the visor off his face. “..face.”

He was… beautiful.

“I love you.” Jack repeated. He blushed under your attentive gaze, making his face all the more handsome.

“I love you too.” You were stunned, he was stunning.

Jack chuckled, pulling you out of your trance. He raised an eyebrow at you, showing off that he knew full well what he was doing to you.

“S-Sorry.” You looked back down at his bandage. You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for, was it the doubts or the tight bandage?

“It’s okay.” Once the bandage was done, you locked eyes in a comfortable silence. Before you knew it, your lips were locked together in your first kiss. 

His lips were rough, but they felt perfect against yours.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[stevesharrlngtons]

“I was hoping for a little sympathy, maybe.” with Roman please :)

sorry for the delay )): and sorry if this kinda sucks!!

You knew his moping was justified. That his pain was warranted and expected. Having your DNA picked apart and ripped from your body was no doubt excruciating and exhausting. You just wished there was something you or anyone could do to alleviate some of the agony he was in. You were doing your best, but you still felt like you were lacking at this problem that was far out of your element.

Roman was never one to keep his grievances to himself, or to let anyone live in peace while he was uncomfortable. But ever since Pryce’s procedures began to rid him of his upirism, Roman had been a nightmare. He was angry and whining and tired and brittle and sad and needy. He wanted you attached to his side until his skin felt like it was rippling around on his bones, in which case he wouldn’t let you in the same room as him, as to not feel more claustrophobic than he already felt. 

On the days that Roman would go under Pryce’s needles for another treatments, you would spend the entire morning ordering Anna and Conway around to make sure there wasn’t anything that could possibly make Roman uncomfortable or irate. You were a dictator, barking orders and anxiously pacing while you waited for a call from The Tower informing you it was time to retrieve Roman. 

After his first treatment, Roman had driven himself home and almost wrapped his Jaguar around a tree. He had left the keys in the ignition and the door wide open before he mindlessly walked to the house in a daze. You had thrown enough of a fit when he was finally home safe that Roman agreed to let you drive him after he had finished with a new treatment. 

After you had him safely packaged in your car, Roman would usually sleep the entire way home, his cheek pressed against the cool window as you darted your eyes between him and the road. Terrified that if you didn’t look over to him every few moments, his breath would stop fogging the glass or his thin pale skin would split and crumble from the abuse it had taken. 

Two days ago you had finished your new macabre routine of readying the house for Roman’s return and driving him home in a worried stupor. You had put him to bed under satin sheets and mink blankets and a large glass of water and saltines on the nightstand. You had monitored him and stroked his sweat matted hair as he trembled and cried. You had snuggled close to him and kissed his frail skin and spoon fed him soup until his body collapsed from trauma and exhaustion. 

Now, 48 hours later, Roman was almost back to his old self. He still complained and griped and swore and was mostly unpleasant to everyone except you, but that was on par for normal Roman behavior. What wasn’t normal Roman behavior was to be out of bed on a Saturday before eleven A.M., which was why you felt a pang of worry when you rolled over and were greeted by a flurry of cold covers instead of the warm weight of your boyfriend. 

You sprang up from the pillows and searched for your phone to check the time, and sure enough, it was just after nine. Anxiety filled your gut as you pushed away your blankets in search for Roman. Sure, he had seemed to have recovered from the latest treatment as he usually did, but your mind couldn’t stop spinning with what if’s.

What if he had been hiding symptoms from you? What if he woke up this morning, and felt fatally wrong? What if he was slowly taking his dying breaths somewhere in the house while you slept soundly? What if? What if? What if?

You called his name, went from room to room in search of him, when you suddenly heard his voice coming from downstairs. 

You gripped the handrail tightly as you went down the staircase in search of him. You found him sitting in an armchair in the living room, a cloth pressed to one ear and his cell pressed to the other. His back is to you and you can see how rigid his shoulders are through the thin cotton of his shirt. 

“Roman,” You say, trying to gain his attention. 

He turns to you for a moment and unwraps one finger from his hold on his phone to wave at you, telling you to wait. 

“What happened? Who are you talking to?” You continue, blatantly ignoring his previous gesture. 

You walk closer to him as Roman once again holds up his finger for you. 

“Put me on fucking hold one more time Pyrce and I swear to God, you’ll regret it!” He barks.

You round the chair to stand in front of him. You can now see the prominent dark circles that haloed his eyes and his colorless lips and cheeks. He was alive, but clearly not well. 

Your heart broke as a small tut came from your lips. You sink to the floor in front of the arm chair and take to giving his calves and thighs a lazy massage. 

“No, you fucking listen to me -- no, I shouldn’t have to! You’re the doctor here. Fucking fix me!” Roman shouts into the receiver and you press a chaste kiss to his pajama covered knee. 

From your position on the floor, you watch as Roman listens to something Pryce says and scoffs loudly, “Green oozing goo is normal? Because it sure as shit doesn’t feel normal! -- I don’t care if this has never been done before, find a way to stop the weird puss and bile that is coming out of me.” 

And he hangs up. Roman gives a heady sigh as he tosses his phone onto the couch and collapses deeper into the chair. You glance up at the cloth that is still pressed against Roman’s ear and cringe as you see it is tinged with light green wetness. 

You continue your massage up his thighs until you settle your hands on either side of his hips and rest your chin on his lap, “What’s going on, baby?” 

“Just in fucking pain while gross green liquid comes out of me. Nothin’ new, apparently.” He says, sarcastic and dejected. 

“And there’s nothing Pryce can do?” You ask, but you are pretty sure you already know the answer. 

“Nope. The bastard keeps telling me it’s normal and there is nothing he can do...fucker.” 

You hold back a chuckle and kiss his belly instead, “At least it seems like it’s working, right? That’s a positive?”

“I guess, just, fuck! I hate this, I hate the treatments and Pryce. I don’t know why I called him in the first place,” Roman replies, moving his free hand to fiddle with the ends of your hair. 

“It’s good you called, I’m glad you did. I want you to call your doctor when you think something is wrong.” 

Roman’s face screws up in disgust, “Don’t call him my doctor, it makes our relationship sound far more amicable and intimate than it is.” 

“Fine. Your mad scientist? The Dr. Frankenstein to your monster?” You joke and Roman glares down at you. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.” Roman tugs a little at a strand of your hair he was busying himself playing with. 

“What are you in the mood for, then?” 

“I don’t know, I was hoping for a little sympathy, maybe. If not from Pyrce, then from you.” He grumbles petulantly. 

“Hey, I am an outpouring sympathy machine for you, baby. I know this process is weird and tough and painful, all I want to do is help. So, tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” You thumbs sneak beneath his sleep shirt to find his hip bones to gently stroke. 

“I don’t know what I want,” Roman pouts, his voice a borderline whine. 

“Want some options?” You ask, perking up slightly from his lap.

He just nods. The treatments were incredibly draining for Roman, both physically and emotionally. While his body physically recovered within a few days, the emotional wounds would linger and refuse to blister for upwards of a week. So, during the period following his procedure, he needed all the emotional support he could garner from you. That included letting him scream and vent to you, or sob and shake in your embrace, or just have you decide exactly what he wanted because his brain just couldn’t surmise what he truly wanted. 

“A: We go back to bed and just watch TV for a while. B: We stay down here and order some breakfast from that diner on 3rd. C: I call Troy and see if he has an Vicodin to help with your pain.” 

Roman mulls over your list of multiple choice before he speaks, “Can I choose that we go back upstairs, order breakfast from the diner on 3rd and I call Troy about Vicodin and pot for us?” 

You grin up at him, “Ah, yes. Secret option D, that sounds good.” 

Roman gives you a soft smile before you push up from the ground.

“Let’s get back to bed, handsome.” You wiggle your outstretched fingers for him to take, which he does easily. 

You pull him up from the chair and Roman moves to wrap his arm around your shoulders, your fingers still clasped together. He presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, one that takes several moments to complete, one where he inhales your scent and relishes in your feeling, one where he whispers I love you. 

With his lips against your hair, you felt a rush of contentment knowing that even your small gestures could work to make this strange time for Roman a little better. That’s all you really wanted, even if you knew you couldn’t find the magic saulve to fix everything. Maybe you would one day, but for now, snuggles, pancakes and painkillers would have to do.

“I love you, too.” You reply as you help your ailing love up the stairs to start your relaxed day. 

does this even make sense??? i don’t know!! i just wanted to write and post this request bc i felt bad that i had let it sit so long lol sorry if it seems scattered or weird??????? but idk, if you did like it, i’d love to hear from you <3 (:

[stickyhoney]

This is it.

Title: This is it.

A/N: This is a very personal story to me. I recently exited a serious relationship, he was an enlisted army man. Writing about Syverson in many ways reminds me of him, so I consider this as a way of helping me move on. Truthfully Henry and my ex have a lot in common, so it can sometimes be hard for me to separate the two in my heart and words. This story won’t have a happy ending, at least for right now. Sorry in advance for the angst lol

Pairing: Younger Cpt. Syverson x Reader

Warnings: Pretty sad not gonna lie, flashbacks of fluff kinda, adult language, mentions of depression

You remember the day you met him, Syverson. You were just a sophomore in college, him a senior. He walked into work, wearing his tan cargo shirts and army green shirt. Immediately, you found him attractive. He was your type after all. At that point he had a large frame, slightly muscular, standing over 6 feet. You also remember how well you two got along back then. He made you laugh, sometimes to the point that tears streamed down your face, and your stomach tensed.

That’s where it all started, a great friendship. The more time you spent with him, the more your attraction grew. You two ate dinner every Tuesday night together after work, you would sit and talk for hours. Sometimes the two of you would talk until the food court had to kick you out because they were closing up. Everyone who knew the both of you, whether from work or your friends, wondered why the two of you weren’t dating yet. You knew. While the two of you were close, you always sensed he was withholding. That feeling has never changed.

two years later…

“What did I ever do to you to deserve this?” You choked on your tears, your eyes burned. The pounding of your head didn’t hold a candle to the thoughts racing through your mind.

It was all in your head. You fool. He never loved you.

You looked up to him, through your vision was all a blur. Nothing could be seen through your tears, so you squeezed your eyes shut until you felt the red hot tears fall down your cheeks. You knew you probably looked a mess, but you couldn’t find the strength to care. Physically you felt ill, mentally you felt drained, emotionally you felt agony. You dared open your eyes again, and there he was. Hovering over you, his eyes were full of guilt and pity.

“I never wanted to hurt you [y/n].” It always made you angry in the past when he stayed perfectly calm during arguments, when he cold as a stone. You thought it was because of the army at first, since they trained him to keep his emotions under lock and key. Over time you wondered if they had changed him for good, if his emotions were now something of the past. Now you knew better. He just never cared enough to argue.

“You hurt me worse than anyone could ever do again. You made me love you. You made me love you when you didn’t have a care in the world for me!” Unable to get up on your feet, you decided to stay seated on the shag rug. Your words had turned into quiet screams, your throat had dried out from your heaving. You were a true mess. Sy bent down to you, his hand falling on your knee. Bile rose in the back of your throat at his touch. Strongly, your hand smacked his away. You crawled away from him, your mind starting to enter a frenzy.

“I never said I don’t care about you.” You swear you could almost see tears forming in his blue eyes. “You know how much you mean to me.” Giggles started building in your chest, slowly forming into full laughs that escaped your lips. If anyone saw you, they would declare you a madwoman and have you committed. “I’ve given you everything I have. My heart, my love, my patience, my forgiveness, even my fucking dignity!” You wave your hand around yourself, showing the proof of lost dignity.

You stayed by Sy through his worst moments, helped him through his pain, or when he was being an arrogant asshole. That one grew to happen more often as time passed. Once he entered special forces, the small part he was hiding away from you grew larger and larger until you felt as if you didn’t know him at all. Sy had become his job. A cold, calculated, soldier. The joke was on you however, you thought he could be the man of your dreams. That your best friend could turn into your soulmate.

“I-I am not in the right head space for a relationship [y/n]. I never should have asked you out, for that I am sorry. But, you can’t blame me for everything.” He fell back onto his rear, his arms bouncing off his knees in defeat. The floor shook under his weight. You clasped your hands together in an effort to stop the shaking. “Oh trust me. I blame myself for making a mistake. I blame you for making my trust in you a mistake.” Your limbs begin to regain their power, allowing you to pull yourself up onto your feet.

1 Year Prior…

You were laughing with your girlfriends on the way back from lunch. It was freezing cold that day, but your friend insisted on wearing dresses. It was valentine's day after all. They were trying to cheer you up, they knew how sad you were over saying goodbye to Sy. Your cheeks burned from the cold wind, probably a bright crimson against your skin. You cursed your friends for talking you into wearing a dress in 10 degree weather. A red sweater dress clung against your form, something you would never have bought yourself. So of course your friends talked you into it. The laughs of your gang brought a genuine smile to your face. Then you saw him walking towards you. Your eyes had to be playing tricks on you. He looked just as surprised.

“Hi.” His gaze never strayed away from you until your friends spoke. “Who is this?” They were eyeing him up and down, drinking in his muscles that looked masculine in his dress shirt and khakis. You had never shown them a picture, afraid they wouldn’t believe you. Also afraid they would castrate him if they ever saw him in public. “Syverson. Nice to-” One of your friends hated his name with a burning passion for hurting you, so when she registered that it was truly him, she was not pleased. “You son-of-a-bitch.” He seemed unphased, if the army gives you one thing, it’s thick skin. “I’ve gotta go. I have a meeting.” He walked past you, as though nothing had been said between you.

Ten minutes into your friends roasting you alive for not telling them how hot Sy was, you phone buzzes in your lap. A text from him. Speak of the devil. “Would you like to have dinner tonight? Keep the dress on.” Your heart began pounding. A huge smile formed on your face, causing your friends to stir.

Back to present day

“You need to leave.” You now were looking down on him, he looked strange down on the floor like that. You had never seen him so vulnerable before. “I can’t lose you.” Your lip quivered in disgust at the man in front of you. “So you want me to care for you, and love you, but you won’t give me the same?” Sy had gone speechless, choosing silence as his answer. “You never made me feel like enough. I felt like I was just an adequate addition to your life, constantly fighting to keep your attention.” The television was still on from the two of you sitting on the couch watching Netflix. His army duffel bag still sat by the door like normal, his ball cap on your coat rack. “You need to leave.” It felt as if sacks of flour had been tied to your ankles, but you forced them forward to the door.

Your hand holds the doorknob, making you question your actions. Your brain has to take control from your heart. You look back at him, still sitting in the same spot on the floor. He pulls himself off the floor strongly, and grabs his phone off the coffee table. “I’ll give you some time.” Sy throws his jacket and ball cap on, and grabs his duffel bag off the floor. “This is it. I am not going to let you back in anymore.” You pull your front door open, and look to the floor. You can’t give him the chance with those blue eyes, then you would never move on.

He walks through the door, his boots sounding harsh against the wood floor. Before you can change your mind, you shut the door behind him. You drop to your knees, knowing that you may never feel that way about someone ever again.

[bananxjin]

Trophy Wife || 7

↦ Coworker!Seokjin x Reader

↦ WC: 3,641

↦ Drama || Angst || Fluff || Slow Burn

↦ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing, emotional, verbal, and some physical abuse. Non-Consensual kiss. Gaslighting. Possessive behavior. Reader feels trapped. Touru manhandles Reader. Mentions of bruising on the wrist/arms. There’s a moment where Touru attempts to undress her, but nothing happens. Insecurity and second guessing. Mentions of being kicked out. Most of the bad stuff is in the very beginning if that helps. Chapter ends on a sad note.

↦ Tagged: @lysannnnaa​, @vanillanjin​

↦ Summary: You thought you knew what you wanted – You were sure you knew what you wanted. You thought the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage with your fiance, Touru Kim; the love of your life, the future father of your children, and the man of your dreams, but things happen. Events begin to unfold, and the relationship falls apart. You see the true colors of your husband-to-be, and you realize that maybe he’s not what you built him up to be. With everything laid out in front of you, you knew the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage.

Just not with Touru.

(A/N PLEASE READ: I promise things are going to be much smoother sailing going forward, and this should be the only chapter that will be like this. This Is a Heads Up: This chapter is emotionally draining and could be triggering to some. This chapter will contain brief mentions of light physical abuse, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse. More details mentioned in the TW above as I didn’t want to blindside anybody. This is the final warning. Please proceed with caution.)

✨ Masterlist ✨

“You’re quitting that fucking job.”

“No I’m not! I enjoy having that job!” You passed your fiance in a huff, dropping your bag and keys on the dining table before you were spinning around to face him again. “It gives me a chance to get out of the house! To actually talk to people! Touru, I don’t wanna hang out around here all day--”

“Then you can start coming in to work with me since you need constant attention like a fucking dog!” His cheeks were tinged a slight pink, and his blond hair had been messed up a bit from the wind, but it only made him look angrier. Unapproachable even. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you tried to speak your next words softly.

“Touru. We don’t have kids yet. The house still stays clean, and there’s still dinner on the table at the end of the day. I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

If looks could kill, you’d be dead where you stand. Touru’s furious glare burned a hole directly through your face and into the forefront of your mind. You wouldn’t let it upset you, though. This was just a misunderstanding. Something the two of you could work through. Just like you always have.

He addressed you with a dangerously low tone of voice. “You know very well what my “Problem” is, (Y/n). You walked out on his fucking arm tonight!” He gripped onto the back of one of your kitchen chairs tightly, leaning all of his weight into it as if it were his last leg of support, both emotionally and physically. All the while, he kept his head down and his eyes sealed shut.

“Touru…” Although you called out to him softly, your eyes were anything but. All the questions you had for him, begging to understand your lover's obsession with Seokjin; to just let you into his mindset, to help you make sense of it all. To make things right. But he’s never let up; not once.

“Touru, ever since I got this job, you’ve been obsessed with Jin, I don’t understand--”

“Oh, so it’s just Jin now?”

“That’s what he asked me to call him!” You quickly defended. “Please, I just want to understand! Do you know him? Did he say something to you?! Tell me!”

Touru pushed the chair away from him. Forcefully so; enough for it to topple and send it clattering across the kitchen floor, but the sound hardly registered in your mind. In just a few quick seconds, Touru was stomping towards you, filling your vision and closing the space between your two bodies. He aggressively took hold of your wrists and slammed them into the wood behind you. The air escaped your lungs in a violent huff as he crushed his lips against yours. It wasn’t even what you would consider a kiss, more like a means to shut you up. He was as quick to pull off as he was to initiate it.

“Touru--”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize him at the restaurant?” He sneered, leaning in closer. “Or how he worked overnight with you? And you lied to me so I wouldn’t know about it.”

“I-I…” You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “I knew you’d worry if I told you, so I…” Touru pressed his warm lips to your cheek, hushing you.

“You knew I’d worry? Or you knew I’d find out about your little affair?” Your blood ran cold at even the suggestion of you going behind his back with another man. You knew better than to entertain a fling with Jin, and even then, you knew you were in love with Touru. Was that not enough for him?

“Seokjin, he… He didn't do anything. We didn’t do anything. I promise, Touru.” Your voice cracked as he put some space between the two of you. Not much. Just enough for him to look you in the eye. If he acknowledged your defense, he showed no evidence of doing so.

“What about tonight? When I heard you bad mouthing April over that fucking botanical garden shit.” He hissed, “What, were you hoping that arrogant, lanky prick was gonna do something to fix that? Your white knight was going to make it all better? Get you your flower wedding?”

“When-”

“I’m guessing he was the one pushing you to go back into nursing school too, wasn’t he? Since you brought that shit up again!” His voice was booming against your eardrum as his grip tightened like a vice around your arms before slamming them into the door again, causing you to whimper out in pain.

“Tell me, (Y/n): How long has it been since you chose to drop out? Two years? Three, even?” “No, I--”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been checking in on you at your Job,” He enunciated mockingly, “And everytime I do, you’re always hanging off that stupid mans arm like… Like some whore!” Your fingers began to tingle as his grip only got stronger.

“Have you forgotten you’re engaged?! Should I show you who you belong to?!” He demanded. Without waiting for a response, one of his hands released your arm so he could tug your skirt up. His pupils were blown out as his fingers wrestled with your panties, but you furiously fought him off.

“Stop! Stop it!” You thrashed and smacked at his shoulders. Finally wrestling your other arm out of his grip, you gave a harsh shove to his chest, and he stumbled back. There were tears brimming your eyes as your glare met his.

“Jin is my coworker! He’s my friend! That’s all he is; it’s all he’s ever been!” Your voice came out hoarse, “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this!”

“He’s forcing his way into our relationship! He’s ruining my plans!” Touru shouted back, grabbing you by the arms and shaking you with each word that left his mouth. “Why don’t you understand that all he is doing is trying to take you away from me!?”

And just like that, any fight you had left had drained from your body. Your lips were sucked between your teeth, eyes squeezed shut as your body became dead weight against his.

“It’s not like that… It’s not like that at all…”

You dropped your head down, sniffling as you finally felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks. Forcefully sucking back the snot that had built up in your nose. Touru snarled and shoved you back.

“Cry all you want. It’s not getting you out of the argument this time.” He hissed. Your back hit the door with a soft thud before you were sliding down into a huddled position. Your arms wrapped tight across your body, gripping your shoulders with such force that you could feel the nail indentations in your skin. You kept your face buried in your arms to hide your tear stained cheeks away from Touru. Away from everyone.

“I am done playing these games with you. You have until tomorrow to make a decision.” He huffed, fixing his tie as his tone returned back to normal.

“It’s me or the job.”

Your eyes remained glued to the floor while he silently stalked off without another word. His angry footsteps echoed off the walls around you, like a beating drum pounding against your ears as he moved further and further away until finally. Finally, you heard the bedroom door slam shut.

Your lungs expelled any remnants of air and with it, all the tears you’d been holding back. You felt lightheaded when you could finally breathe in again, your head held tightly in the crooks of your arms as if you were protecting yourself. It was all you could do to keep control of the sobbing and the shaking raking itself through your body in violent waves.

It’s him or the job.

Him or the job.

Him or the job…

You don’t remember falling asleep. Or waking up. Your whole was morning lost in the midst of a hazy blur. You barely got any sleep at all that night, and you had to be at work early for another opening shift. Your energy was beyond depleted, and you weren’t even sure you were going to make it through the day. But the only alternative was going home.

There’s no escape no matter where you turn.

“Hey!” You’re startled by Jin’s sudden hand on your shoulder. “I texted you last night, but you didn’t respond. Was everything okay?” You give him a look like, ‘What do you mean?’ Before pulling your phone out. But you can’t even check your messages before you're caught once again by Jin’s sudden gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened?” He gently took one of your wrists between his hands, but you were quick to pull away and turn your back to him, as if that was going to undo the damage. As if somehow, shutting him out would make all of this go away.

“It doesn’t matter, Jin” You tugged your sleeves down as much as you could to conceal the purple marks. “Look. I had a really rough night last night, and I don’t even want to be here today. I just… Really need some space if you don’t mind.”

Jin was taken back by your nonchalant attitude. “He… Touru didn’t do that to you, did he? Because if he did--”

“No!” You snapped, turning back to him with pinkish cheeks and drawn in brows. “I’m sorry,” You sighed, closing your eyes for a second. “No, I… It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/n)… If he’s hurting you, you need to tell someone--” “I don’t think I need you telling me what to do, Seokjin.” You lied through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna get to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

And like that, your walls went right back up again. The whole day, you were no more than a football field's length away at all times, but being shut out by you made it feel so much further. There was a strange wave of déjà vu that would wash over Jin whenever he saw you,  constantly reminding him of the first time he tried to talk to you about Touru. The first time he’d really upset you.

But things are different now…

…Aren’t they?

Somehow Jin felt like this time would be different. Different in a way that maybe he wasn’t ready to see, and the one time he needed to talk to you about it, he wasn’t allowed to. He kept catching glimpses of you throughout the day. Passing by you in a sea of customers or when he’d be making runs to other sections of the store.

There were several times where you’d catch each other’s eye by accident and he’d attempt to smile at you, but you’d just look the other way. Jin couldn’t deny the stinging feeling deep in his chest. The fear that maybe this was the end of your friendship.

He did what he could to give you your space, but working in an environment like this made it difficult. Several times, he had to request your assistance, or he’d find himself in the same dressing room as you, going about his business as if things were normal, but otherwise, he tried his best to stay out of your way. He didn’t speak a word to you. Not because he was upset with you, but to respect your space. In the rare moments he did find himself beside you, you wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence. Either pretending like he wasn’t there, or dashing off without a word. It was painful, but what could he do? What could he say to make it better?

The worst part about all of this is that he knew. He knew Touru put those bruises on your wrists, but here you were at work, going on like everything was normal. Tonight, you’d go home to him and -- What, forgive him? Tell him you love him and pretend like it was normal?

What if she already broke up with him? What if that’s the reason why...

At the end of the day, Jin went home with more questions than answers. Went home wondering about the what ifs and how things could’ve been different had he intervened when he had the chance.

Late into the night, he tried texting you again. He went over the text a thousand times, reading it and re-reading it, hoping it was enough to get a response. At least enough to tell him you’d be okay. But the minutes turned into hours and still, silence. Frustration. Anger. Despair. Restless, but not quite tired enough to fall asleep. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t. All he could do was hope that you were safe and that things wouldn’t change too much. Because above all else…

He didn’t want to lose you.

__

If you were in a movie, this would be it.

This would be the final scene. The one where everything magically fixed itself. The one where the love of your life proves your best friend wrong -- That he can, and he will become a better man. The Right Man. Just for you. He’d be waiting for you in the kitchen with puffy, tear stained eyes and an apology on his lips.

He’d tell you he was wrong. He was wrong for how he acted last night. And he was wrong about Seokjin. He’s been wrong about him this whole time, and it’s okay if you continue to be friends with him.

If this were a movie, this would be your bittersweet ending. Sure, you didn’t fall in love with the best friend character, but you would come out of this with a happy marriage. One that is filled with unconditional love where you’re surrounded by your friends and family. This would be your favorite scene.

But this wasn’t a movie, and the problem wouldn’t magically fix itself. This was the part you’d been dreading all afternoon because until you walked through that front door, you didn’t know what was going to happen.

You thought about it all day; your ultimatum. You thought about the way Touru manhandled you the night before, and the clear indication of what happened having been left behind for people like Jin to see. The part you’ve spent the last five years trying to hide from everyone else.

Your mind had wandered back to your parents relationship while you were growing up; wandered about the times you heard them yelling at each other downstairs, and you questioned if they ever had moments like this. Where everything felt like it was falling apart.

Sure, arguments were bound to happen in any relationship, but were they always meant to make you feel this bad?

Click.

Walking into your house felt like walking into an unknown universe. You stood alone in the kitchen with Touru nowhere in sight, and still you felt alienated.

The setting sun cast a warm glow across your kitchen, stretching along your torso to paint you in a soft orange color. It almost felt like a hug from an old friend. Like somehow, you were being told that things aren’t as bad as they seem.

But that’s a lie. Things have been bad for a long, long time.

You glanced around. The kitchen was spotless just like it had been this morning. The chair had been set upright, although there was a clear mark on the leg where it had skidded across the floor.

Just another reminder…

You felt an obligation to start on dinner. To run off to Touru’s study and wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. Maybe if you could pretend -- You would set the scene, and maybe Touru would go along with it.

“(Y/n)? Is that you?” Touru called out from down the hall.

You didn’t respond at first, instead wanting to gather up the courage to face him, but he was standing in the kitchen archway before long, leaning against the white wood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Welcome home.” He muttered softly. “Thank you,” You smiled. “How was work?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes darted down to your hands, tightly sealed together by the threads of your fingers. Just beneath your sleeve, he could see the hint of purple bruising peeking out at him. Begging for his attention.

Something seemed to flash in his gaze for a moment, but it vanished before you could address it.

“Work was fine.” He sighed, pushing himself off the wall and allowing his hands to fall at his sides. He finally raised his head back up, looking you in the eye, resembling the same poker faced man you’ve known for half a decade. No guilt or even an ounce of remorse crossed his face. Not a single tear. No apologies. Nothing.

“So? What’s the final verdict?” You swallowed. Now it was your turn to cross your arms. The million dollar question, but here you stood with no answer for him.

You couldn’t do it. You wanted some control; some normalcy that wasn’t just waking up to cook, clean, and do the shopping. You weren’t ready for all the things that came with being a trophy wife, but that didn’t mean you were willing to let go of the only meaningful relationship you’ve ever had either.

You looked down at your toes; at the mark on the chair. Anywhere that wasn’t him hoping there was an easy answer for you to find. But the silence was too heavy and drawn out, and so Touru took that as your answer.

“That’s what I figured.” He sighed, turning away to stroll through the living room. “I’ve laid out some of the suitcases for when you got home. But I want you out tonight.”

“Wait, Touru!” Your voice was laced with panic; your ears rang with fear as you chased after him, heels clacking on the hardwood floor.

“Can we talk about this?” “There’s nothing else to talk about, (Y/n).” His voice was firm in his reply, already having sat back down at his desk. His computer sprung back to life as he fiddled with his mouse, going about his work as if he didn’t just tell you to leave your shared house.

“You have to understand, I enjoy working! It’s not anything to do with you or not wanting to be a mother!” You pleaded, “I get bored and lonely all day, and-”

“I said I’m not discussing this anymore, (Y/n).”

“It’s not fair of you to make this decision on your own! I wanted to go into nursing, and you shot that down! This is only a temporary job that’s meant to last until we get married, and-”

“(Y/n)-”

“We’re still going to get married and everything’s going to be okay! We’re just going through a rough patch right now! I love you so much, and-”

“(Y/N)!” His voice echoed off the walls as he stood out of his office chair abruptly, causing it to knock into his desk. The computer shimmied with force and all his office supply tumbled onto the carpet.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” He asked, shoulders hunched around his ears. “It’s been hurting me these last couple months having to be close to you, knowing that you’re actively lying to me to go spend time with another man.”

“He’s just my coworker, Touru.” You whimpered. “You have five secretaries; all women. All who work very closely with you every single day, and I’ve never once accused you of cheating on me--”

“They’re all married, (Y/n)! They’d never try to come between you and me--” “You don’t even know if Jin’s married! You don’t know anything about him--” “Is he, (Y/n)?!” He demanded suddenly.

“What?”

“Is Seokjin married? Because he acts awfully friendly with you for being a married man.” At that, you fell silent. Once again looking away from him because you didn’t have the right answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes filled with tears. “Touru,” You said his name softly, reaching out for him but he jerked away, just out of reach. “Touru, all I’ve been doing is working, and him seeing us at the restaurant was pure coincidence, I promise! I… I had no idea he even worked there…”

“You’ve done nothing but lie to me, (Y/n). Ever since you got this job, that’s all it’s been…” He sighed. ”I don’t trust you right now. I’m sorry.”

And there it was…

The one thing you’ve known; the one thing you’ve been scared of him saying to you for months has finally come out.

“Touru, please…” You couldn’t hardly breathe around the lump in your throat. Your voice became strained and whiny as the tears finally bubbled over. “Please don’t do this! I love you!” You reached for his hand again, but he just snatched it away from you.

“Please! There has to be another way around this! What else can I do?”

Touru shook his head. “I think it’s best if we separate for a while… At least until I feel like I can talk to you again.”

“”So that’s it? You’re just going to get rid of me?” You sniffled, “You’re just going to kick me out of our house--”

“My house.” He corrected, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “It was my money that bought this place--”

“Nobody’s making you pay for all of this on your own! I could easily help you; I want to help you--” “I don’t need your fucking help, (Y/n)!” He sneered at you.

“I need to feel like you love me again.”

[calypsoff2]

Nine. Part 5

Chris is not happy at all, he is angry that his mother even said that to me, but I have to talk him out of not saying anything stupid, we need to go and I am wanting to leave but we have to sort this out “am I obsessed with you?” Chris questioned, it actually made me laugh “baby you are obsessed with one thing, and that’s my feet” Chris and I laughed “lots of that in Jamaica babe, I hope you ready. I can’t wait to just go, like I know it sucks and we need to do something nice for the girls but it’s our time, I just want to forget shit and have fun with you” I can’t wait to go already “then can you please apologise to your dad, then we can see Imani and go? Please don’t start more trouble, I want to just go” I know his stubborn self doesn’t want to say sorry, but he needs too for me “come with me then” I guess that is a deal “fine, let’s go and find him but please don’t speak on what your mom said to me, so don’t say anything but sorry. I am begging you that I want to just go to Jamaica already, I want to suck some dick and have fun” Chris jumped up from the chair “oh, now you’re up?” Chris walked around the desk “that shit can wait; let’s go” he is so cheeky, now he wants to go because I said that “you know I love you right” Chris placed his arm around me “mhmmm you do? Actually I won’t doubt anything after what happened” dragging open the door “I was about to say, which nigga you want me to beat next. Damn Robyn” Chris pressed a kiss to the top of my head “maybe I am crazy about you, now if that was said then it would be better because I am” my hand holding his hand that is lazily resting on my shoulder as we made our way in search of Clinton, I hope Chris doesn’t make more trouble. I just want Chris and I to go already, I think things can just move on now, it happened “what did that asshole say about Mel? Like you made that comment that she likes to have sex? I mean that was pretty bold to say” Chris laughed “things” oh now he’s holding back “you will open up” I mean these words too “my ass yes” I scoffed “not that again, I am not eating no ass” he can think twice “but I do with you?” I shushed him “because yours is hairy, it scares me” Chris chuckled “weirdo” Clinton wasn’t hard to find, we got him “be good” he is sat in the living room.

Staring at Chris, I want him to say sorry so we can move on “sorry dad if you feel like I squared up to you” Clinton took his glasses off, “but” I groaned out, Chris doesn’t stop “you shouldn’t get in my way, this is my business. I am sick of it, I am done. I want people to respect my wife; I am not obliged to listen to anyone anymore. I am not obliged to be picking anyone’s side besides Robyn, TJ was being disrespectful, you didn’t know the full story but yet coming to me” I sat on the couch next to my brother, Rajad just laughed “he has energy, I give him that” Rajad isn’t wrong “now you know what I deal with, he’s terrible” shaking my head “what was the point in telling me you are sorry when you don’t mean it? You’re doing it because your mother told you to do it” Clinton said “actually Robyn told me, because your wife spoke some shit to my wife. See what I mean by this shit though, it’s boring. Why shouldn’t my wife tell me, just because you lay down with mom I won’t” I do not and I refuse to get involved again “that’s your mother Chris, but you were being too much. I didn’t want people harmed Chris; you got to understand that things like this do come up, you can’t always continue to attack, it’s not mentally right. Joyce and I respect each other so please stop acting so stupid now, I don’t want to hear an apology from you until it’s from the heart Chris so you can go, get out of my face” Chris got told off “Chris” I said, I knew what he was going to say. I am not stupid, I won’t have him telling his dad to go “forget it” Chris stormed off, I guess that flopped, I didn’t want him to say to his dad to go.

I left Chris to it, let him get over it and just calm down but Imani is awake, she is over it. Like nothing happened, I am not sure if I should bring it up, but she is ok. Chris is outside is playing with the girls, they look so happy and excited with their dad “thanks Rorrey” he bought down the suitcase for me, I want Chris to say sorry before we go, but it is time we go. I don’t want late charges “Robyn” my mother shouted me, I stopped and turned to her “yes mommy” making my way over to her “I want you to have a good time, I don’t want you to worry about the girls. I will take care of them, you two have fun. You both need it, I also want to add” here we go “I can’t believe that nasty boy was being mean to you” I had to laugh at her calling him nasty man “should have whooped his ass Robyn” I chuckled “I wanted to keep that bond, but it is what it is, but mom. Thank you for staying behind and taking care of my babies” my mother waved me off “stop it! I adore them girls so much, my loves” I know my mom does love them “I just need to see the kids, explain we need to go” walking off to the back yard, they look so happy. I am glad they aren’t scared of Chris; I was so fearful that the girls would be scared of him, but they aren’t, they know he is a big softie with these girls “having fun?” I said smiling “yeah, we good over here aren’t we?” Chris looks so happy “I can tell but girls” crouching down to them “daddy and I are going now” I think I ruined it now “already?” Tianna said “yes baby, it’s a big day for us. We got married on the day, we just want to celebrate it but we are one phone call away. You need to understand if you want to talk to us, call us. Let Momo know and she will do it, whenever you want we are there, ok girls?” Rylee nodded her head “I will, I miss you mom” wrapping my arms around them both, my girls.

The girls went inside and now I can again try, I need him to just say sorry “you’re going to tell me to say sorry?” he knows it “I am, listen to me. I want you to do it for me, do it for me please? Just me” Chris took in a deep breath “ok, I will do it now. I love you Robyn” wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his neck “man, I can’t wait to get out of this place. Just us, and some ass” I yelped at Chris slapping my ass and gripping it, I laughed out “you feign” hitting his chest and moving away, I just need to go now I am tired. The whole shit with my life, I need a break away “I will do it now” Chris said behind me, I better not hear any shouting because I am going to be so angry “so Mel is pregnant by that boy?” waving my mother off, I do not need this “Robyn, stop blocking it because it’s happened. I know you are angry with Mel right now” my mother is trying to make me accept that shit, I am so annoyed with her “do you need anything from me?” let me change the subject before she keeps going on “no, just have a good time and get over it” I am literally so angry at Mel, that stupid bitch really did that and got his kid, he isn’t going to be away from us now, we are fucking stuck with him and she knows this now.

Chris took a little longer to her into the SUV, I ran to the SUV. I want to go now “finally” I said as he got into the SUV “bye!!” hearing my daughters shouting, waving at them as he closed the door “yeah” I swear I will be angry if he has done something stupid “yeah?” I said “yeah” he laughed, the SUV started to drive off slowly “don’t yeah me Chris, tell me what happened” I swear to god he thinks he can be goofy with me, but I want to know, he better have done what I asked of him, but he did take his time saying bye. Shuffling closer to him “stop being a pest” wrapping my arms around his “tell me then?” resting my head on his arm “I just said sorry dad, he said did Robyn tell you to come and say it. I said flat out yes, and you would do the same for mom. And then I said it to my mom” lifting my head up looking at Chris “oh god” I said “I said mom, please don’t speak to Robyn in that manner, my wife doesn’t deserve the shit she has been through a lot. She lost two babies and TJ bought that up, he has no right. That is my wife, he did and said things that upset me. Just let’s get on, she said she was just upset, and we move forward. Now can we just start sucking toes” Chris has a big ass mouth, he never stops “you never stop do you” Chris shrugged “but out of this, do you believe I would kill for you” nodding my head “I do, but thank you for being so supportive, just protecting me. Since fucking school, that shit is wild, but you have been protecting me” Chris grinned, he leaned over to me, pecking his lips.

I am just so glad to be on the jet, I think I was scared that we wouldn’t leave. I was adamant to go, I wanted to leave Cali and come somewhere with my husband “we have a lot to discuss” Chris finally got out of his phone “you think?” raising an eyebrow, I am tired, emotionally that is “yeah, I think erm” he paused licking his lips “I think there is things I need to speak to you about, I think it’s best if we be real with each other and I have accepted that you will be upset but now this has happened, I said I wouldn’t believe anyone else, I always believe in you but. Now this has happened, I assumed that TJ was someone I could ride with, confide in but I don’t get that, and I think we need to speak on things” ok now I am scared “no cheating, nobody cheated. I didn’t do anything with any girl, just to add. But I feel like things we have spoken on may come up. I feel like a dickhead, doing so much for his son. I have a headache, I feel drained. So much has happened, I am hurt but we need to speak on things that have been said between him and I, with the simple fact that I can’t trust him to not come back at you to get at me and I just want to be real with you. But it was boy talk, he uhm” Chris cleared his throat “he didn’t appreciate that and now I have nobody to speak too, I have you but” Chris laughed a little shrugging, he is so sad “it’s not the same” I feel so bad, I didn’t want this “but I am tired, mentally too. I just, now I am stuck with Black Pyramid again, I can’t trust niggas. Just messaging Deja right now, so I am stuck in the phone you know why” my precious baby, he is so hurt by it, he is so teary eyed “what are you doing with Deja?” I asked, I would like to know because Fenty has some say in that too also “telling her to take over for some time until I can get around to it” I guess she can handle it “Chris this time is for us to reconnect so I do want to know what was said and even with Mel” Chris cringed, I don’t know if I want to know “I will tell you what was said between us, but I am telling you now. You may dislike it” I will have to accept that “that’s fine, but just relax when we get there” I don’t want him on his phone.

[ceo-of-choco-bibi]

HCLW 107 SPOILERS

I've actually been so upset over the past few days because of the new chapters... nothing to worry about though it's not too serious.

I am making content, in terms of fics I got one more oneshot to add to my current chocotemp collection, a HnK au, and a new series of oneshots, more precisely about how I feel GRG would respond to the current event in the real world. In terms of art I have a few sketch graphs and one piece planned, but it might take a while to churn out.

(Check out my ao3 for my fics! https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811194)

For now I just really want to talk about them because they make me so sad and happy at the same time. Enjoy my rambling.

Giga 13th squad! They're all so cool, Giga's squad are really just Squad 1 Legendary characters team, the other fillers and Squad 13th. I immediately fall for any teleportation-related character, so Veganic is like (chef's kiss)! He is adorable I want to pick him up and put him in my fancy coat pocket.

MASTER SWORDSMAN ALWAYS GETS THE COOLEST PANELS! AS HE SHOULD! HE SLAYS ALL THE TIME UGH I

I hate the word goated but he really is he's the coolest and I hope he knows it! I feel embarrassed for talking to a fictional character but I wish he knows how much I love and cherish him

"There are times in life when you lose. If you're bound to lose, then just do the best you can! Then there will be a next time." I'm so devastated. How could you leave like this. How could you leave so happy when I'm dying over here.

"Give it to Choco Bibi and tell him it's my gift to congratulate him for becoming the second guild master of Grass Roots."

"How about we fight with our swords? It's been a while!"

"There should be a home for him to return to after he's done wandering. I'm going to start a new guild."

You don't understand. I don't have words for how painful this is. Just revel in the pain with me.

And here comes the backstory fluff (aka a sweetener to make the angst more bitter)

"How about we dance to draw attention?" "I think that'll make things worse." HELP ME

I CAN'T BELIEVE BIBI CANONICALLY HAS PRETTY BOY PRIVILEGE!!!! AS HE SHOULD???????

I'm actually never going to shut up about how Bibi never blushes in the presence of women. Like never. MSM and Drip Soup are always blushing when there's pretty women around but really Bibi has never shown attraction. When Pooh Upooh was naked? No. When Coco first entered the guild? No. Here, where a girl literally says she wants to go on a date with him? NO. This is actually my queer agenda, me and Sehun Kim had a talk and we agreed on making Bibi queer coded.

I would have never guessed that Drip Soup and Tempest were both affiliated with Giga for a short while? Guess I manifested my Giga!GRG but in a different way

I've never let go of the headcanon that Bibi is fucking terrible with feelings and is always angry, this just solidifies it more (really, every interaction Bibi has is just solidifying the theory that he's emotionally constipated)

I've also got the feeling that Bibi's super prideful in the sense that he would rather not express weakness (cry, express pain) in front of others (seen when he gets beaten by NM!Bibi the first time on) and that he channels everything into spite and anger instead. I kind of want to see this when he realises MSM is gone later on also. I want to see him get irrationally mad and blame someone (HCLW) before realising (or realising but still feeling lost and like he has to target someone) MSM wouldn't have wanted this. Armes wouldn't have wanted this. His friends are the only ones left.

It really comforts me to see that Master Swordsman is happy with his life right now. I'm kind of stuck between "oh he's happy because he's well off from the game, his work doesn't count" and "anything that you're happy with in life is worth it. You don't need an office job to be happy" though, but for real. I've never wanted a regular office job and I'd rather just do something simple and get by since nothing matters in the long run when I die. But at the same time, I feel like I can only say this because of how privileged I am to be me. It's hard being alive, sometimes. I'll pull through.

Tempest appearance! This time it solidifies my idea that Tempest finds his friends to be more important than himself, at least at this point of time. I expand a lot more in my new fic and I've written a bunch there already, so I'll save it for then (haha, shameless plug)

It's so bloody funny that they're all from the same school and that they're meeting up for a battle. What are you, YouTubers with beef?

TEMPEST BEING A GOODY TWO SHOES NERD? HIS HAIR IS KIND OF FLUFFY? (I die.) TEMPEST AND BIBI IRL INTERACTION? THEY KNOW EACH OTHER IRL BEFOREHAND? (I die again.) BIBI EATING POPCORN? (I die once more.)

Anyways Bibi with a sugar addiction I really do not need to elaborate on this.

They are such LOSERS who does irl fights I swear to god yall EMBARRASSING /lh

I MANIFESTED HEAVY ALCOHOL TOLERANCE BIBI YOU HAVE ME TO THANK FOR THIS!!!!!!! I REALLY DID!!!!!!!! (My linked headcanon was that Bibi's the group protector when they're out drinking. It's sort of true.)

I can't do this. This is a lot for my heart. To whoever looks at this, why? But also thank you for being here it means a lot to me.

MSM RICH

Bibi gets couch rights as he should! Also Bibi and Tempest airpod users while MSM and Soup earphone users?

Glasses and WFL came from nowhere but alright I still love them

The gifts thing. The gifts thing. I am so upset it's unbelievable.

The hat... the hat was given to Bibi by MSM... I want to see him have a breakdown now. I want to see him wear the hat forever on after this arc because it's something solid he has left. He's an art major irl, I want to see him recreate the hat or make art related to MSM.

"You might be grumpy on the outside, but I know you always think dear of me. I'm glad you don't know what I'm doing right now. If you did, you would've stopped me by any means."

It hurts so much.

"Life doesn't always go your way. And sometimes... you just want to run away from the life that turned out so differently. Some people say, the place you run off to is no paradise. They may be right, but those who ran away can still comfort each other there."

GRG IS LITERALLY FOUND FAMILY! THEY ARE LITERALLY-

I cannot do this anymore it's horrible my heart is shattering into a million pieces

"How did we end up like this? You went through enough to deserve a little happiness. Hardcore. Go back to your friends!"

He does deserve it. You deserve it. I hate this. Thank you. Sorry.

And Bibi still doesn't know. He'll be the last to know. "Did he go knowing I loved him? What were his last words? How do I go on? What do I do from now?"

I do want to see them reunite and remember. I do want to see them waddle in their hurt and pain, to heal together, to move on as a guild knowing this is what MSM would have wanted. It's so fascinating seeing someone grow and oh how much have the Grass Roots grown in the past 3 years. They've been close to my heart since forever and I really love them so much.

Final conclusion: I hope you've hurt as much as I do. I hope reading this has shown you something from my perspective that has made you hurt a little more. Talk to me and be my friend so we can hurt together.

On a more self note: Like I said, I'm writing stuff. I'm drawing stuff. It sucks to think sometimes that so few people will see it, but I know that I love what I'm doing. I may be prideful and want more people to love me, but I think I'm not selfish for wanting so. Reading this drains me. Reading this fills me with inspiration and joy and happiness and pain and anger and sadness.

I hope you don't find it just plain cringe that my emotions work like this. I hope that you reading this find comfort in knowing someone feels this way too. Thank you.

[polymathemawrites]

Hungover in the City of Dust - Part 3

cw: drug use, panic attacks, ptsd, injuries

Gordon gets medical treatment and has a nap (and the author steals from portuguese phrase sites to serve his own ends)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three below

Take a breath, and another, deep in his aching lungs, pull in air between broken lips. Trembling and raw, he looks up at Barney from his place seated on the cot. Something in his expression had caused Barney to relent and take on the medical treatment himself but Gordon's strength had given out when his friend had begun to try and treat his injured side. So clean enough, Gordon had been deposited on the cot and made to lay down, while Barney groaned to kneel beside him. He'd said he was fine but Gordon hadn't been able to shake the guilt of his friend putting himself in pain just to take care of his accidents. The Vortigaunts could have mended him maybe and yet Barney hadn't fetched one of them either. Perhaps it would have been practical but Gordon didn't think he could take it emotionally. Half of his break down was mental, not just physical, and the act of laying down as someone touched him without a mind to hurt him was doing wonders for his racing heart and the ache in his chest.

Barney's hands were sure as they gently soothed some sort of ointment over him, steady when they wrapped his wounds in clean cotton. When they caught each other's eyes, Barney smiled at him. "Once I get you all bandaged up I've got a shirt for you to sleep in, see if I can't find you some briefs that aren't too big either, I uh," Barney drew off, face flushing an adorable shade of red, "Usually go without these days, while I got the luxury of uniform skivvies back in the CP I'd always give 'em away to people who needed 'em more. Gets cold out in the wilderness."

"Not that they'd of fit you anyway." Barney patted Gordon's hip above where he was tending to the injury on his thigh, "Gained weight in my old age."

You look good.

Gordon's pulse jumps when Barney laughs self-consciously and strokes a circle into his hip with his thumb, "You don't gotta baby my feelings, Gord. I know I'm every bit fifty five and I look like I live off beer and ration packs, because I do."

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, the bandage Barney already applied around his arm stretching with the motion, it gets Barney's attention who then moves to try and push his shoulders back into the bed, Gordon expends his remaining energy to stay up which serves to put their faces inches away. Barney blinks in confusion and his surprise causes him to relent, leaning back a little but his hands stayed there on Gordon's shoulders, one dry and one slick with the ointment he's been applying to Gordon's injuries.

Talking is pretty hard at this angle, having to lean entirely on his elbows and bend his arms up toward his own raised chest causes his wound to press painfully against the cloth, probably would have been smarter to argue this while laying down.

You look really, okay and his body gives out, flopping back onto the limp and stained pillow, Really good, Barn.

"You still on the good shit, Gord?" Barney laughs softly, still leaning over him, hands on his shoulders.

No, my body hates me and everything is pain. You look really good.

Barney flushes, and then he curses under his breath, "Why didn't you say somethin' what a fuckin' good caretaker I am, lettin' you suffer! Dagnabbit!" He turns from Gordon to do something with the first aid box he'd dragged to the bed and Gordon turns his head to watch him, tired and drained.

Really good. Barney isn't looking at his hands, he probably doesn't even realize Gordon is signing. God, I love you so much.

"Here we go, somethin' to help with that." Barney comes up with a syringe and a glass vial, measures it out the old-fashioned way, no suit to shove it right into Gordon's veins. Despite the speed and numbness provided by the suit he far prefers the way Barney's sure hands tighten the strip of rubber around his upper arm and feel out a vein, the way he flicks his finger in a snap against the inside of Gordon's arm, the intimacy of alcohol swab and the soft voice that follows, "Little sting, darling." The prick is barely felt as he watches the single-minded focus on Barney's face as he slips needle to vein. The morphine hits him like a wave, splashes through his head with hot-hot-heat between one heartbeat and the next. Barney puts another bandage on him after loosening the rubber strip. "Better?"

Love. You. Gordon signs before letting his hand drop back to his side. He feels just fantastic. Just fuckin' fantastic.

Barney freezes up, eyes staring at where Gordon's hands had been, as if he could still see the sign pathing there, before he looks to Gordon's face and gives him a cryptic smile, "I'll be right back with somethin' comfortable for you to wear."

Gordon closes his eyes to shut everything out, to keep from seeing that cryptic smile anymore. He didn't say it back, but what was Gordon really expecting, after twenty years? Was he expecting Barney to return his affections now? Head full of exhaustion and morphine, it dulled the pain of rejection, but it still hurt worse than any of the wounds riddling his overtaxed body.

But Barney hasn't left yet, instead he places his hand on Gordon's chest - right above his heart, and Gordon opens his eyes to look up at Barney still in his Civil Protection uniform, blood stained as it is. "Tomorrow we're gonna talk about that. Can't just spring that on me right after I hit you with morphine, Gordon. Don't know what to think, you've got no idea how bad I've missed you." There is no amount of morphine, no amount of fatigue, that could obfuscate the look of loss and heartbreak that flickers in Barney's beautiful teal-brown eyes, "Missed you so bad, darlin' you don't know. Twenty years, and I," Barney's voice cracks and Gordon wants, needs, so much to pull Barney onto the cot with him, to hold him until that pain-thick sound is gone, but Barney is out of reach now, standing apart from him, hand no longer placed to pulse, "I've missed you. We'll talk about that tomorrow. See if you hold to that when you know what I've done, when you're thinkin' clearly."

Gordon really wants to tell him there isn't a single thing Barney could do or have done that would change the way he felt, feels, for him - but the man has slipped out of the room, leaving Gordon alone with his morphine addled headspace and every ounce of his exhaustion.

There is nothing Gordon can do against the dark when it claims him, only glad it's the old-fashioned slippery slide of sleep and not Him deciding maybe Gordon still has use yet.

"So, I take it I don't have much of a chance with you?" Alyx's voice isn't sad so much, it's sort of bemused. Gordon's hand tightens on the Zero Point Energy Field Manipulator in his tension. "I mean, if someone looked at me the way you look at him, I'd be a lucky girl."

Gordon flinches, she had to, she had to say the rest of it, didn't she?

Alyx makes a soft sound as he jumps down a steep incline, pathing to the next building, "Wait, Gordon! Hey, I - It's okay, I won't tell anyone." He hears her jump down after him, and when she goes to pull herself up onto the next platform he offers his hand to help her.

Momentary panic passing, he leans the really neat gun he was maybe way attached to now up against his leg, if only he'd had this thing back in Black Mesa, It wasn't okay, back then. Not really, not in the sector of the world I worked in.

"A lot has changed." She pats his arm and leans against the wall next to him as they both catch their breath, he had maybe started walking a little faster than the suit liked, "There aren't exactly enough people to get angry about who you love, not like any of us can get on the baby-making train anyway." Alyx laughs and Gordon rolls his eyes at her. "Oh come on, loosen up!" She digs her elbow into his side. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure he'd be really happy to know how you feel."

He smiles softly, Thank you.

Gordon wakes up to his pulse racing, nausea, blind-panic. He reaches out blindly and his hand hits a wall, he swings his arm and promptly knocks something across the small room. It is then that he realizes he is not alone in the room, and that the voice calling out his name is a familiar one. Before he ever recognizes it, his body is going limp, he begins to sob immediately. Gentle hands put his glasses on his face and he curls his hands around strong wrists. Barney is bleary above him due to tears. He looks so tired, dark circles under his eyes, scars and wrinkles, his grey-streaked hair disheveled and two days worth of beard-growth. He is the most beautiful person that Gordon has ever seen, he squeezes Barney's wrists a little harder, holding his hands still against his glasses, against the side of Gordon's face.

He can still hear Alyx's soft laugh, feel the ghost of pressure where her elbow had hit his side, except no, that's the wound pulling from the strain of his panicked breathing.

"You're safe, I've got you, you're safe Gordon."

His tears won't stop, his heart is going so fast, he can't breathe, looking up at Barney he drowns in his own guilt, his own pain. This was all his fault, every fucking part of it. His hands had pushed that fucking sample in, caused the Resonance Cascade that collapsed everything together and ended the world as they knew it, he was the fucking R.E.M song, it was him. Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn - fuck, god, what has he done? Oppenheimer had nothing on Gordon Freeman.

Barney pulls him up, wraps his arms around Gordon, less padding now without his Civil Protection armor but that just means that Gordon can feel the heat of him sinking through the layers of their shirts, the strong thick circle of his arms wrapped around him so tight. Barney whispers soft words into his ear, breath hot against his skin, and Gordon clutches to him like a life-line in the ocean of his own trauma. It isn't English, his burning brain informs him, and he clutches onto that fact. Focus, focus on the rhythm of words he has no hope of understanding, focus on this new data to trick his broken brain into leaving the panic behind.

"Amo-te com todo meu coração," Barney whispers, hand cupping the back of Gordon's neck, the other low on his back, chest to chest, and he's gently rocking him side to side, "meu coração é sempre seu."

Words flowing, and Gordon drags in each breath through painful burning lungs, one after another, until his chest matches the rise and fall of the one pressed to it. He shudders and collapses, held tighter still by the iron bracket of Barney's arms.

"Se eu fiz algo certo na minha vida," Drawing back, Barney's lips and words drag against Gordon's jaw, "foi quando eu dei o meu coração para você." The tears have stopped, and Gordon is breathless from his panic attack and the soft reverence of Barney's words, the raspy grasp that each syllable holds on his heart. He's in so deep, he's so scared, he doesn't know what to do with the stillness, with the pain turning him up inside, with the weight of his own love and the fragility of his own humanity. It was an accident, except it wasn't, orchestrated the whole way through, unforeseen consequences, except someone had known it all along, had set him up to take the fall and jump through every hoop.

Standing still in time and space and the anger that has kept him alive for so long, the rage that has burned in him for years, it's not enough to pull him through this moment. Barney's warm gaze, his strong arms, "You're safe, darling," that is enough to pull him through, "I'm right here."

Everything left behind, twenty years, six days. A whole world away from who he used to be, a whole two decades. A week ago he was a coward with his whole life ahead of him. Twenty years later and Barney has scars on his body and heart that Gordon wasn't there to protect his best friend from. Who has listened to Barney say he was right all along about aliens? Who has loved him while Gordon was sleeping? And if there has been no one? Does that make it worse that Gordon would step in now? Twenty years he left them all alone because he was the right man in the wrong place, and now Barney is comforting him.

I'm so sorry. For everything.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Gordon."

He's fucked up so much, so much that the eldritch-fuck-abomination took advantage of Alyx because he wasn't playing the good Agent of Cosmic Chaos. The Resonance Cascade and everything that had happened since, it was his fault for not out maneuvering the other pawns in this game of omniversal chess, and he was so sorry not that sorry would do fuck all.

I'll get her back, I'll fix everything, I'm so sorry.

Gordon watches Barney's heart break, no amount of age or change between them, nothing would be able to hide the emotion in his eyes. Gordon sinks under more guilt, building up that wall of pain and rage at himself, fuel for the fire in the hurt he'd caused Barney.

He feels Barney's hand tighten in his hair where a week ago there had been a ponytail until he'd cut it all off, the last thing to go in preparation for passing the final testing simulations. Barney moves his other hand to hold Gordon's jaw, his eyes heated and hard, "Listen to me, Gordon. This wasn't your fault, none of this was your fault. You didn't do this, you didn't take her, you didn't cause the shit to fly at Black Mesa. I was there, I was there too."

"It's time to let that go." Barney tells him, and Gordon wants to tell him it's too soon, but he can't. Not with Barney holding him so close, so intimately.

He tangles his hands in the front of Barney's shirt and falls into him, his words and his deep warm eyes, into his own love. Too strong to let twenty years matter, let alone six god-awful days. He loves him so much, he's loved him for so long, and he can't run from that anymore - no matter how awkward it makes things between them.

Barney loosens his grip and presses Gordon into the bed, laying down beside him, chest to hip, lowers Gordon's head to his chest. They lay tangled up on the slim cot and Gordon tangles himself around Barney even as Barney holds him tight. "You are so strong, Gordon. You've done more than any one man should ever have to." Soft words against his hairline.

"Close your eyes, think about those stars above Black Mesa. The cool desert air, feel me there with you?"

Gordon's eyes are shut tight, his ear to Barney's chest, a chin against the top of his head. They never laid like this together then, but he can feel him. The pinpricks of light from his eyes squeezed tight shut are the stars above them. He taps three times against Barney's chest, again with a pause, and then one final tap. Understood, he can see them, so clear that far out without light pollution from the city, most of Black Mesa's topside was dark this late at night.

"Nothing but us, no one else in the world." Barney is stroking his hair, petting his back, the steady beat of his pulse lulling him as much as the rumble of his words through the firm pillow of his chest. "Just the two of us here together, I'm not letting go, I've got you. It's time to rest Gordon. Up here far away from the rest of the world. Nothing to worry about, just us."

He is losing himself to the words and the picture Barney is painting with them. As White Forest fades there is just Barney and a nebulous desert sky. Bright stars and the promise of a future where he has all the time he needs to unravel secrets written in quantum code. He opens his eyes and the room comes back into focus but the steady core of hope burning in the painful prison of his chest remains, burns all the brighter to see Barney laying beneath him.

It's not too bad, after all. They're together again.

translations:

Amo-te com todo meu coração - I love you with all my heart

meu coração é sempre seu. - My heart is yours forever

Se eu fiz algo certo na minha vida, foi quando eu dei o meu coração para você. - If I did anything right in my life, it was when I gave my heart to you.

half-portuguese barney is @whitepointer 's HC and i love it and I love him okay thanks bye

[noblest-roman-of-all]

abandon

i figured id try my hand at one of those inktober style writing prompt challenges, so here we go! first up: abandon

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he was a kid, Remus had a family. He had a brother, a twin brother at that! They were pretty different, but Remus really didn’t care that much. They would spend hours coming up with crazy stories about dragons and zombies and knights and magic, playing in their room where they could make anything happen. They called it the Imagination, and it was their kingdom. They ruled it together, the prince and the duke, making their own world everyday, then taking it apart and putting new ones together. 

He always thought Roman was happy with the way they did things. Sure, sometimes they’d argue about things, but they always ended up making something awesome out of it. They had all they needed with the two of them and their Imagination. Roman clearly didn’t think that though. He kept spending more and more time with the other sides, Patton and Logan. He knew Patton didn’t like him. He never stopped smiling, unless he saw Remus. It never bothered him though, because he had his brother. Until one day. 

Roman came back from playing with Patton and Logan, but something was wrong. Remus tried to tell him about his new idea for the Imagination, but Roman told him to shut up. He started yelling about how Remus was bad, he was broken. He said lots of things, but Remus only remembered the last part. 

“You’re not my brother. You’re everything I can’t be, everything I can’t let happen to Thomas. You need to leave.”

Remus tried to go back to the Imagination, but the door wouldn’t open for him anymore. He stood outside the door for hours, trying everything he could to get the door open, but nothing worked. He had ideas in there! Stories, monsters, worlds he needed to finish building! Roman was in there! It seemed like forever passed before he heard someone behind him. 

“It’s no use. You’re not welcome there anymore,” the voice said. He didn’t need to turn around to know that voice. It was one of the ones they didn’t let Thomas hear, didn’t let him know about. One of the bad guys.  

“You’re lying,” Remus sneered. “That’s your whole thing. Roman wouldn’t…” 

“Abandon you? He already has.” The sharp voice suddenly turned soft, almost sad. “I… I can give you a place. A family, without him.” A hand landed on Remus’ shoulder. Well, they did think he was a bad guy now. Might as well play the role. He was good at that. 

“... where to?”

For a long time after that, Remus had a family. Janus and Virgil were just as strange as he was, just as intense and just as hated by the rest of the sides. It made sense for them all to stick together, to wreak a little havoc. Freaky nightmares, little lies that snowball into a trainwreck, the voice in Thomas’s mind reminding him just how quickly everything can go wrong. It was fun, like getting to play again. His Imagination was no longer contained and quelled by Roman, he was free. He got to suggest all manner of strange, creepy and downright dirty ideas, and sometimes, Thomas actually considered them. And to top it all off, he had friends, family who understood him. 

Well, he thought they both did. 

Virgil had been acting weird, even weirder than he normally did. He had agreed to jump into videos to really antagonize the “light sides”, finally given a platform other than the mindscape they normally existed in. It had gone well for a while. Even if he didn’t always manage to keep Thomas anxious, he managed to unsettle him for a while, and he messed with the others a shit ton, which Remus personally counted as a win. It had been working, he thought. Until he noticed that Virgil would leave their dark little corner outside of videos, hanging around the others just for shits and giggles. 

Janus didn’t seem to mind that much, but Remus knew they were bad news. Knew how fast they would turn around and decide, you know what, you’re not worth it, not worth our time. He knew they would decide eventually that whatever pet project they were attempting with Virgil, they would get bored of it, and they would toss him out and break his heart. Remus didn’t want that to happen. So, he pulled a few strings. 

He started fucking with Roman more and more, pushing all of his buttons. He made sure to show his face around Patton, reminding him who Virgil’s real family was. He would pop up in Logan’s room to ask all sorts of nonsense questions, trying to tire him out and piss him off. And because Remus was an evil mastermind at heart, it started to work. The other sides would lose their temper with Virgil more and more often, pushing him aside and talking over him. He was so sure it would make Virgil resent them, make him turn back to the people who cared about him. 

He didn’t expect Virgil to duck out entirely. 

He really didn’t expect the other sides and Thomas to find him so quickly. 

He absolutely didn’t expect they would win him over. 

“I love my dark strange son.” What a load of horseshit, from the cardigan clad clown himself. 

Fine! If Virge wanted to get involved, leave him and Janus behind just so he could get his heart broken when the others inevitably changed their minds, remembered who he really was, and decided to abandon him in turn, that was all him. 

Remus just never thought he was the masochistic sort. 

For another three years, Remus had a family. Him and Janus got along swimmingly, better than he ever had with any other side. With Virgil out in the open, they decided they could make themselves known. If he’d thought getting to stretch his twisted creative muscles in the mindscape was fun, it was nothing compared to getting to pull out his biggest guns on Thomas in person. He also enjoyed that Janus seemed to come back from most of his encounters with them smug and content, which was usually the best state Janus could be in. Things were going well. 

Remus should’ve known that means someone’s about to leave him. 

It starts with the wedding. The stupid, stupid fucking wedding. He’s never wanted to bash his b- Roman over the head more than the moment he decided they were going to go to the wedding. Even if it gave him more material to work with, he knew it was going to result in a level of misery he didn’t want to deal with in the long run. He did end up getting to beat Ro up a little bit, but it didn’t satisfy him the way he wanted it to. 

What was worse than that, Janus started getting more and more irritable. Remus would find him pacing around his room, muttering as he steps over crumpled sheets of paper and open notebooks. He would snap at Remus in ways he never did before, pissed off over silly pranks that never phased him much before. 

You’d think by now, Remus would be an expert in recognizing when he was about to leave him behind. Some people just don’t learn, apparently. 

He did pay attention when he wasn’t around, though people never expect that. He heard everything that happened the night of the wedding. He heard how hurt Roman was, how confused Patton seemed, how angry Thomas was trying to not be. He heard Janus appear and diffuse the situation. 

He heard Janus tell them his name. 

“Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.” He heard that too. 

When Janus came back, he didn’t look very different. Remus… well, Remus felt a lot of things, most of which he channeled into an overwhelming desire to hit him directly in his stupid, snake-y face with the morningstar. 

Remus generally didn’t feel bad when his weapons actually hurt people, but he didn’t usually feel this level of release, this feeling of letting everything drain out of him in one harsh swing. 

“What the hell has gotten into you? I’m not Roman, you know,” Janus sighed, wiping at the blood flowing down his face. 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, you two faced fucker. That was for being such an absolute fucking dick to my brother,” Remus shouted, hauling the morningstar over his shoulder, ready to swing again. Janus took a quick step back and raised an entirely unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, and you have such a history of kindness and support with him.” Normally Janus’ smug drawl was comforting, but directed at him it grated on every. Single. Fucking. Nerve. 

“At least he knows what to expect from me! I hit him with a pointy ball on a stick, I don’t try to emotionally manipulate and damage him every chance I get!” Remus shouted. “And what was the name sharing shit? It took years for you to tell me your name, they get it in a few months?”

Janus let out a long sigh at that. “You don’t understand. It was the only way Patton-”

That was the final straw. “Oh, Patton this Patton that! Why don’t you go suck up to daddy like every other fucking side has, clearly that’s the only thing you give a shit about!” 

“I needed them to trust me, Remus, it’s not personal.” Janus had sat down by now, his head in his hands, but Remus could not give less of a shit about how tired he looked. 

“You made it personal when you used me to talk shit about my brother! Maybe I am evil, but I know my role, I know what I am, I don’t try to convince anyone otherwise! You, you lie and talk in circles and do whatever it takes to make sure they like you, make sure Patton likes you, even when it means you shit all over me!” Remus had been pacing through his speech, but he circled back to Janus, who was finally looking at him again. They locked eyes for a moment, before Janus looked away, unable to deny any of it.  

“You told me you’d give me a family. If this is what your idea of family is, I don’t fucking want it,” Remus spat. “Go play house with Patton and pretend you're ever going to keep a promise and not abandon everything you’ve ever said and done at the drop of a hat when some shiny new possibility appears.”

A long, long moment of silence followed. And then Janus stood up, brushed lightly at his pants, and turned away from Remus. 

“Have fun alone, Remus,” he said. It wasn’t a sneer, wasn’t a snarl or a shout. It was just said, flat and cold and so empty. And then he walked away, closing the door behind him quietly. For all his drama and all his shouting, Remus wasn’t prepared for such a quiet end. 

“Well,” he said to the empty room, “at least I can’t have any more family drama.”

He didn’t cry that night. He didn’t spend that night wishing that maybe someone would have bothered to stay with him, stay for him. 

He didn’t. Because he was the evil twin, and evil twins don’t cry over being abandoned. 

They plot revenge. 

[bymerlinsgreattits]

do you know that feeling when you loose your best friend, your partner in crime, one of the few heteros you tolerated?

like, you got to this new place, moastly because the place you where at before made you bloody misserable, and now you finally found two (2!!) best friends, one a gay boi and a het gal, and than the gal has some problems with her best bff and like, you help her through months of her being misserable and only talking about this one thing, and than when she finally feels better and is ready to talk about other things again or maybe listen to how terrible you feel in your currently failing relationship and than you dont see each other because of hollidays for two weeks where you helped out at home a lot, and after the hollidays shes suddenly like “oh, well, if you dont want to be friends with me anymore, just bloddy tell me” and doesnt talk to you and is angry and is like “ well, i am terribly scared of loosing all my friends and bla bla bla” and youre like; bitch, by acting like this you WILL loose me as a friend, but she wont talk or listen to you so you just go no contact for a month or two where you just feel like shit , and than you talk it out and she tells you how wonderful shes been doing and this just makes you want to punch her so badly because you had gone through like 5 mental break downs and had wanted to end yourself like twice, but you just stay calm and say something like, okay, lets remain friends, but you actually never really talk anymore, only some smaltalk, and over the next few months you kinda start forgetting about her, because you’re just so emotionally drained you CAN’T care about her anymore, and now you only really remember her when she is in your vision of view, and now sometimes you sit next to each other in public transit and youre just silent because you have nothing to talk about anymore, and you just feel like, so bad, and you try reopening conversation by sending a good fucking meme and she looks at the message but never answers and it just makes you feel so hollow inside, because you used to be best friends and you cared so much about her, but now she is just so increadibly cold towards you?

... uh, yeah, me neither... pffff, i mean, that sounds so sad.... 

... who would .... who’d loose their bff because of something as stupid as that....

...

... i totally dont miss her, and feel sad because i had made a foulder with memes to send her because i platonically loved her and wanted her to be happy, but yeah... 

... happens all the time....

[bittersweethue]

The best of the best yet (well for me anyways). Seventeen AU recommendations.

Notes

Of course all of this has smut. I won’t be me if this did not have smut. 

The titles also contain the links. Idk why I felt the need to say that. 

CHEOLSOO ( Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups / Hong Jisoo | Joshua)

Call me an amenity

By: brightlight

Summary:

Seungcheol typically doesn't form relationships when he's travelling on business. (But then again, most people aren't Joshua Hong.)

Feels: 

Wow. This just. WOW. 

I’ve never read a cheolsoo fic this good and raw and emotionally straining. Pining. Of course there’s pining. Their emotions will consume you and leave you sobbing. 

This is just a long distance ‘relationship’  esque fic basically. That will make you sad and yearn for the same thing too. (Pinagtagpo pero di tidahana sht)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891772

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JICHEOL (Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups / Lee Jihoon | Woozi )

Busan 112 

By: Hakovftw

Summary: 

Jihoon’s been at Busan Police station for three years, and he still gets mistaken as a kid dressing up for Halloween. 

It’s so fucking unfair. 

Jihoon’s not jealous. He’s just angry that the meritocracy is failing him. 

And what makes this worse, what makes this harder to bear, is that Seungcheol is hot as hell ans looks fucking amazing in his police uniform.

It’s his only saving grace, Jihoon thinks. 

Feels: 

Absolutely love it. There is so much pining and slow burn and pINING I COULD YEET MYSELF OFF A CLIFF. 

I always love AUs wherein the author doesn’t rush the pining process? It makes everything flow and feel real. The slow burn is absolutely amazing and WORTH IT. 

Link: (It’s not up anymore, but hoping that the author will put it up again in their other account, wtfkovah)

We were two before our time

By: wtfkovah

Summary:

Jihoon, an Omega, with little social standing, poor familial associations and hardly a tuppence to his name finds honest work as a teacher. His break with the norm results in a broken courtship, and the heartache and financial strain that follow send him south for the summer season, to teach Hansol, the youngest son of the Choi family.

Feels:

I am absolutely so so in love with this. A very very dear favorite? It’s a historical au and I have always loved those. And it being an ABO fic is just *chef’s kiss*. The way it was written is very historical-y too, the words and flow and all. 

The pining is spot on, and Ji is so damn relatable in all situations. Cheol’s wooing is so adorable. Everything is so steamy and full of want holy sh-

JUST READ IT, PLEASE PLEASE. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308842

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JUNHAO (Wen Jun Hui | Jun / Xu Ming Hao | The8)

every chance I get (I'll turn you on)

By: xumyuho

Summary: 

Minghao is a kid with miserable talents at choice making and a lot of feelings. Wen Junhui is the hot graduate who he's sleeping with and has most of those feelings for.

Everything about his life is confusing, but at least the sex is great.

Feels: 

One of the first fics that I have read. Dunno why I had to mention that. 

The way it was written was so realistic, like you forget that you are actually reading. It’s like the words just fly off and you see everything so clearly with how it was written. 

The pining? Perfection. The feels? YES. Can’t say more because I might end up spoiling it. Fuck buddy pining perfection. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359739

you must have been very far

By: jeosheo

Summary: 

Junhui isn’t nearly as drunk as his friends; unfortunately, they’re the ones selecting his punishment for having lost miserably at this party game.

“Kiss someone,” Seokmin slurrily suggests.

“Hook up with someone!” Jeonghan corrects.

“With Minghao!”

Feels: 

Nothing has beat this yet. NOTHING. My absolute favorite fic about Seventeen. 

The writing style confused me at first, but you’ll get the hang of it. Jun basically does not know what he feels and just chalk’s up everything to awkwardness. This is a fic where someone pines after someone without knowing it. 

Idk why but it broke me. All I know is I read this at midnight and fell asleep crying. I was an emotional mess for days after it. 

(Ah maybe it’s because of how precious someone could be when they get what they deserve, even if they think they don’t deserve it.)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880459

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WONHUI (Jeon Wonwoo / Wen Jun Hui | Jun)

No Amount of Words (Mother Tongue)

By:  rapgodwoozi

Summary:

The last thing Junhui is expecting when he boards a train bound for Amsterdam is to fall in love.

Feels: 

This is what love feels like in the movies but also not like in the movies. Willing to risk it all, questioning yourself, thinking if you deserve to be happy. 

I really love how everything is emotionally straining. Main thought here is “so-this-is-what-it-feels-like-to-fall-in-love-slowly-but-also-all-at-once”.

Couldn’t read it all at once because of how consuming the emotions are. It’s that straining and the amount of uncertainty and flowery sappy sht will choke you. 

GyuHao is also an adorable side pairing here. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018710

Sweet Devotion

By:  Swanny_Writer

Summary:

Wonwoo meets his soulmate at a party, but the omega disappears the following morning.

Junhui meets his soulmate at a party, but holding a huge secret, he can't let the alpha claim him.

(Or the one where WonHui meet at another masquerade ball. They also have a kid and eat lots of cakes)

Feels:

Soft Junhui. Cute Junhui. Baby Junhui with a babie. FLUFF JUNHUIII!

Idk wonu is so adorable here, so cute and so caring. A feel good fic + smut. 

But its more than the smut okay? Read it if you want to feel uwu. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283092

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GYUHAO ( Kim Mingyu / Xu Ming Hao | The8 )

Actually both fics belong into the same series entitled we, as fruitful youth and I only realized this after months, what in the heck. 

(may the sun kiss you) unconditional

By: xumyuho

Summary:  

Mingyu doesn't need to be right, he just wants to win. Or, more specifically, he just wants Minghao to say "I lose."

Feels: 

Forgot the title and all due to reading so many fics but I have always remembered the flower giving part. That made me cri in fluff. 

Another ‘so-this-is-what-love-feels-like’ + ‘finding-home-in-a-person’ kind of fic. That kind of uwu. 

Trying to learn so much about the other and loving them more and more throughout the process. This is so beautiful and real, imma cri. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167740

Just need one night (slightly more if it's done right)

By:  xumyuho

Summary:

“I like it like this, even without the slow-dancing and flowers.”

“Good. I’m never doing slow-dancing or flowers.”

Feels:

Holy sht this is so awkward and real and it made me realize that all relationships are like this, awkward and weird yet still full of talking, and emotions and fuck ups and IDKKK I love how realistic everything was. 

It’s not the typical ‘he-is-the-moon-and-perfect-and-I-would-die-for-him-if-I-could’ type of story and that makes it so refreshing. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448174

=============================================================

JEONGCHEOL ( Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups / Yoon Jeonghan) 

Gay Chicken

By:  twinklingpaopufruit 

Summary:

Jisoo explains to Seungcheol and Jeonghan the concept of gay chicken.

Feels:

Is this a novel??? It’s just that kind of fic. 

Jeongcheol want + uncertainty + fluff + smut goodness. This is so so good. 

You can actually imagine all this pining and amazingness happening because of how close to their own known characters Jeongcheol is here. Like all the details we know of them, how they think, how they move, how they feel and act, this fic is faithful to it. 

The kind of fic also where you realize that Jeongcheol is the king of ships, and how all of us want to either date them, or be them. THERE IS NO IN BETWEEN.  

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675838

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JOSHUA + Everyone 

Good Things (Are Supposed To) Come In Threes

By: SandyRoses

Summary:

In a world where being away from your mates for too long causes physical and emotional pain, Joshua doesn't think he has it easy. He can't remember the last time he, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol just sat and cuddled. It's beginning to hurt, and he doesn't know how much longer he can handle being alone. He doesn't want to be alone.

All he wants to do is be held and loved. Slowly, he begins to think he isn't worth loving.

His friends love him, and they just want to take care of him. Slowly, they start to do both in more ways than one.

Feels:

It’s basically  OT12 loving Joshuji. ABO. JeongCheol are irresponsible jerks to their mate and a shtshow ensues.  

Glorious. Very emotional and heartbreaking but it get’s better in the end I promise.

Could not read it all at once. It’s that draining and consuming. It will consume you to the point that you will feel all the feelings of Shua, all the self doubt and yearning for something that you think you don’t deserve. 

But Shua deserves all the damn love and happiness in the world. 

Read this is you want to feel empty right after and if you are okay with the warning. 

Warnings: Talks about rape (reliving a rape scene). Slight dubious consent. 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302151

[lickrustdavid]

Can of Soda 

Inspired by the wonderful fic A Day of Days by @maxbegone 

I hope you all enjoy! 

+ + +

Patrick’s a take charge guy. He prides himself on being level headed, calm, and patient. He’s the one who helped calm his mom down when she’d found out she had cancer when he was a child. He’s the one who assured his dad that he was okay when his childhood dog passed away, explaining he knew he wasn’t in pain anymore and was living a better life. 

But even Patrick, the unfalliable rock, is entitled to a day, every now and then. The last time he’d had one of these days, he’d been leaving Rachel. And now, three years later, Patrick is laying in bed, trying desperately to get himself up and go to work. His body aches in a way that’s not illness, but pure, bone deep exhaustion, all from bottling things up. It’s not even big things, mostly small dumb arguments, sentences he knows Stevie, David or Alexis don’t think anything of, Ronnie hitting certain buttons. The idea he’s not good enough. But today, all he’s able to do is think about every single thing that’s made him even vaguely upset, and ruminate on it. 

Looking at the clock near the bed, he sees it’s barely seven am. David’s lying next to him, still asleep, face mushed into his pillow. He’s so beautiful it makes Patrick wonder if he’ll get tired of the boring business major he’s married. These thoughts he keeps locked down tight, the ones of inadequacy, knowing he’s not like David, that his husband is so much more capable of things than he is. Screwing his eyes shut, Patrick let’s out a shaky breath and suddenly he feels like he’s crawling out his skin. He needs to move, to pace, to do something, and yet, he can’t get himself to move or be productive. 

The clock hits seven, and the alarm goes off. David groans, wiggles around under the blankets, and finally opens his eyes when Patrick hits the stop button. The first thing he notices is that his husband doesn’t look quite right. Something about his posture, even in bed, is sending out red flags. His expression isn’t one David’s ever seen, at least, he doesn’t think he has. It’s not sad, not angry, but...something. “Morning,” David murmurs, leaning over to nuzzle into Patrick’s shoulder. 

Patrick doesn’t pull him close like he normally does, nor does he hold him tight and kiss his hair, whisper sweet words against his skin. Today, David watches as his husband stays in the same position, blinking at the ceiling, as if he’s not heard him at all. 

“Honey...you okay?”

Scooting over, David lays a hand on Patrick’s chest, getting him to come out of his trance like state. 

“What?” His voice is quiet and distant. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” David tries to go over possible things that could be upsetting him. If it was something to do with his parents, he would already be up, getting ready to drive to Ontario. He watches Patrick turn toward him, and then the metaphorical dam breaks. 

In three seconds flat, tears start spilling from Patrick’s chocolate brown eyes, his breath coming in shaky stutters. David’s frozen on the spot, concern welling in his body, but then he snaps into action, pulling him into a tight hug. “Shh, you’re okay, it’s okay. Whatever’s wrong we’ll get through together.” 

A sob escapes Patrick’s throat, and his head shakes a little. “I d-don’t even know what’s w-wrong,” his voice is reminds David of when Alexis was young and upset over their parents not being there. His heart breaks into pieces. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay. A smart guy once told me that you’re allowed to feel this way. That it’s okay to have this kind of day,” David echoes the words that have been spoken to him numerous times. “I love you so much.” 

They lay there for half an hour while Patrick let’s his tears out, eventually growing quiet, tears sliding down his cheeks as his face is buried in David’s chest. He rubs at his husbands back, hoping the feeling is grounding and soothing. 

“I’m so-“ 

“No,” David shakes his head. “No, you’re not going to apologize. Don’t apologize for feeling things. You can’t bottle things up forever. You’ll explode if you do.” Privately, David knows that this is an explosion, and that he’ll do anything to show him how much he loves him. “We’re going to stay home today. The store can wait. You’re more important.” More dejavu. 

The words earn a nod, and then a bite of the lip. “You…” Patrick clears his throat, raspy from crying. “You should get something to eat, I know you’re hungry.” 

David has to physically keep himself from dropping his jaw. Of course Patrick Brewer would be the one to try and take care of someone after just having a breakdown. “Patrick. Honey. Let me take care of you, hmm? I need you to focus on yourself today, not me. I’ll get food when I want, but right now I want to be with you. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” 

Tears start again, and David hopes he’s not upset him further. That the tears are a result of some kind of realization. No such luck. 

“I don’t know h-how to do that,” Patrick’s face crumpled and he looks so utterly confused and small, and David kisses his hair. “I can’t just...not care or w-worry, I ne-need to-“ he breaks off when he chokes on a sob, hands twisting in David’s shirt. A thought of ‘thank god I’m not wearing a nice shirt’ flashes until David’s mind but he tells the thought to shut the fuck up. Now is not the time.

“David...I’m not good enough for you,” Patrick’s voice rings out, and it’s as if once the words have fallen out of his mouth, another dam breaks. One of pent up insecurity. “I’m not...I’m not like your other boyfriends. I’m not rich, I’m never going to have those shared experiences. I can’t ever give you some adventurous lifestyle. I want to, so badly. You have to know that. I want the world for you. And I’m so scared that...that I’m not it. I’m not what you need…”

His head is trying to wrap itself around this. Around this secret insecurity that’s apparently been manifesting itself so deeply into Patrick, and he feels his own tears fall. He knows his husband, and knows that this has been building for longer than a few months, even a year. 

“Listen to me Patrick Brewer,” David pulls back just a little, wiping away a couple of freshly fallen tears from his husband's porcelain skin. “You are so good. You’re so ridiculously good. You care so much, and so deeply about things. You want to see the best in people, you want to show people the best in you. You fight for what’s right, you’re loyal and determined.” David watches Patrick’s cheek flush, watches as he seems to be at war with believing the words. 

“You are exactly what I need. You’re what keeps me grounded, and feeling safe. You’re the one who teaches me new things every day. Without you I’d be my old, bitter, miserable self, wallowing in self pity. You’ve shown me life can be fun, and that as long as I have the people I love, nothing else matters. Not money, not places or stupid possessions. I’ve spent most of my life thinking I could never be loved, that once people have had their way, they’d throw me out. And you haven’t done that. You’ve somehow seen something in me, and wanted it. Wanted all of it. I love you more than I ever thought possible,” he kisses him then, hand wrapping around the back of his partners neck. 

“And please know you’re not boring,” David adds, kissing Patrick’s face and tears. “You’re the most interesting person I know. And I love all the things you think are boring. I grew up with parties and yachts and celebrities. I don’t want that anymore. I want this. This life.” 

“I love you,” Patrick chokes out. He looks emotionally drained, tears staining his face. David knows he must look the same. Another kiss, and David nuzzles his shoulder. 

“I know that won’t cure things. I know today is still bad. Let me get us some food, and we can watch baseball, or a movie, and I’ll rub your back,” David murmurs. “Are you okay if I go to the cafe? Or do you want me to stay here?” 

Patrick stays quiet a second, and then he nods. “Go get food. I’ll be okay. Head hurts, might just nap.” 

Getting up, David throws some sweatpants and a shirt on, goes to the kitchen, and comes back with two Motrin and a glass of water. “Take these. I’ll be back in half an hour,” he promises. 

Patrick does as he’s told and slips his eyes back shut. David’s right. He still feels upset, still feels like he wants to simultaneously crawl out of his skin and not move for a year. But his husband will be right back, will take care of him, and wants him no matter what. That’s all that matters. 

[jokeringcutio]

Debunking Arthur Fleck Fluff HC’s

As a reply to questions I have received about Arthur’s ideal partner, his mental state, living with him, and much more, here’s a little background to the darkness in my tales and some thoughts on the matters.

Oh, look, he’s so sweet. So romantic. Such a good boy. He would be such a great boyfriend, such a good partner, such a nice protective father. He just needs cuddles and lots of love.

Welcome to my *essay*.   Ever wondered why my depiction of Arthur Fleck is as gritty and dark as it is in some of my recent fics? Oh yes, I have written fluff and kind fics as well. But here are some reasons why I think that if Arthur Fleck were real, you’d better seek yourself a different guy to fall in love with.

Hold your horses:

1. Arthur Fleck’s mental health issue. 2. He is unpredictable. 3. He doesn’t see reality. 4. His humour is dangerous. 5. You would be emotionally and physically drained. 6. He murders people, including his own mother. What guarantee do you have he won’t kill you or your child? 7. And would you truly want a man like that to be the father of your children?

Warnings: This post contains sensitive content, such as topics of self-harm. Be aware of this and decide whether you wish to continue reading or click this away. This is purely explaining my own experiences and how they effect my view, explaining rather than convincing you how I got to this point of view I use in some of my darker fics.

My main points: 

Let’s break it down.

1. Arthur has a real bad mental health issue, which is said to involve self-harm, negative thinking, hurting himself, hurting others, having delusions. Now why would that be a bad thing that you can’t overcome? - I’ve seen a large amount of Joker fans on Tumblr thinking that if they were there, they could help fix Arthur. And perhaps, they could. If they can, Arthur would not transform into Joker. But realistically, he would still need to take his medicine every day to keep his mindset as docile as it is at the start of the film. _ > Dangers: People who are on meds for their mental health have the tendency to, once they feel normal and happy, stop using their medicines and have a relapse. Which is very hard to see and you will have to use all your energy to help them back on track. _> A medicine can stop working. A mum of a friend of ours had this happen to her, where she became immune to her meds and had tried so many, some being taken off the market, others losing their effect after months or years of usage. She was tired of having to go through the whole process of finding a new one that worked. When it stopped being effective, she killed herself. _> A medicine can be taken off market. And whenever something happens to the meds, will your love be enough to keep Arthur standing tall? Because it might be bad luck, but the instances I have seen where people have had a serious case of reoccurring depression, or borderline syndrome, it always ended with the loved ones, despite giving it their all (their time, losing their jobs loving and taking care of them, their money, all of their possessions, their body and their soul, giving up friendships, other family members and what not), only to end up with it never being enough. That is to say, yes, there are many different mental conditions and each has different levels  of severity. That is to say, every level can be severe, but while some give hope that the person suffering from it can function normally, or can find happiness, I think with all that the film has shown us, Arthur is at such a stage that we can assume it will not be cured miraculously. And you should wonder if anything you do could ever be enough.

2 & 3. He’s unpredictable. 

This is part of his mental health issue. He has delusions as we noticed from the film. He doesn’t see reality. He imagines an entire relationship with his neighbour, who makes it quite clear she hardly knows the guy.

_> Danger: No matter what you do, you have no grip on the image he has of you in his mind. His reality differs from whatever it is you do. It will put you in immediate danger. -- Now why is this a terrible, terrible problem? Someone very close to me has mental issues and delusions. So I have first-hand experience. It is frightening! For years on end I have been careful about what to say, never to say something that will upset them, always say yes to whatever suggestion they give. Even if it ruins your own life. Even if they tell you all sorts of things that are wrong with you, or with people you love. You accept it out of fear because they are so instable and you want to help them forward. To give them the space they need, to look after them in times of need. And it is FRIGHTENING. Because this person I know changes personalities as well. In a way that we can argue Arthur changes personalities when he becomes Joker, but this person I know has over ten personalities and you never know who is coming out next. One personality is capable of doing normal grown-up things, the next is a small child, but all of them are angry, jealous and mean. -> Which is a big difference with Arthur. Let me make it clear now, I don’t think Arthur falls in this multiple personality disorder category. There’s a clear transition between him and Joker, possibly helped by the lack of medicine available and the effects of it waning. Arthur is unstable and unreliable because of what his own mind makes him perceive, not necessarily for being different personalities in one body.

To expand on my personal experience: This person imagines the weirdest and scariest things and to them, this is reality. Now this person is a very extreme case I won’t expand on, but they see things that didn’t happen. In a quiet room, they imagine a fight. People talking about the weatherforecast are in their mind plotting this persons death. Someone showing kindness is often in their mind someone doing something horrid or lewd and they can flip about it and shout, and throw stuff, and cause a whole scene. 

So yes, no matter how kind you will be to Arthur Fleck, if his reality of you watching television is a contorted delusion of you telling him you want to walk out on him, and he places you inside his ‘bad people’ box, you might be up next for the chop. It’s how family drama’s occur, it’s one of the reasons why some people kill their loved ones because they don’t want them to get together with someone else, or live without them. Only, you don’t even have to actually want to walk away from him. He just needs to imagine it and your safety is gone. Another thing I like to think this person I know and Arthur might have in common is the obsessive and possessive way they would deal with partners. This person slowly made a web around their partner, isolating them from friends and family, making them even have to give up their job for them. They control their mobile, their email, stalk them online, send messages out of their partner’s name. Nothing that reaches the partner hasn’t run by this person, and this person takes their partner out of groups without telling them. They control everything of this persons live, and it grew so silently, so slowly, that the partner didn’t notice until it was too late. And now the partner doesn’t care. No one matters to them, no one except this person who they try with all their might to keep happy.. Which is incredibly sad. Because we can see the partner fading away, ill, unwell, with little to no joy left. And that is the bleak reality I have been faced with and still am faced with. And which I can’t ignore when looking at Arthur. The idea that he too could and would slowly create a web around the one who has taken his fancy, isolates them, makes them dependant and care only for his well-being.  4. A sign why he is dangerous. His jokes include murder, giving a glimpse of his brain. And though some might find his morbid humour funny, how would you feel if you were happily married, had a beautiful son you loved dearly, and someone would say “knock knock, your son is dead” and hold up the dead body of your son. Because think about it, his humour isn’t just humour. His humour is part of his fantasy, it is part of what he starts doing. It is a mirror of the darkness in his mind. And we have seen reasons why the murders he commit can be ‘justified’. But if you have to be realistic, can any murder be justified? A murder is still a murder, still bad. He still kills people. People we happen to know little about except that they took the piss off someone (or did they? read the note underneath this paragraph). But they have family members, friends, a mother and father. They have people who love them, who wait for them at home. How would you feel if your child, your brother or sister, your best friend, your lover, would not arrive home one day because someone thought they were bad because they ...let’s say... accidentally bumped against them in the street, or happened to look them in the eye, and were killed for it because the one they bumped against or looked at thought it was his right to do so. You would not laugh about it. You would be fucking livid.

- note: As the film is an account by Arthur, do we even know if the guys on the train actually abused him? What if they were just minding their own business and Arthur imagined being struck down by them? I mean, we do see bruises on his body, but it is his ambiguous account. Has anyone considered the possibility that the abuses took all place in Arthur’s head and he killed these men because of his own fantasy running wild and dark and morbid? I don’t think it went this way (I mean, there’s the textual evidence of Arthur having been abused in the past and what-not), but suppose for a moment that even that evidence is what came from his mind as he tells the tale, his reality. In a way we can’t trust anything that we’ve seen in the film..... 5. Ever lived with a borderliner? Then you will know how draining it is emotionally and physically. (Now, if you are diagnosed or consider yourself a borderliner don’t instantly take offence. I am talking about severe cases here, and as always there are gradations. And I do hope for you and everyone who loves you that your gradation isn’t as bad as the one I am about to describe. And if it feels it is, know you ARE LOVED.) Because if you know Borderliners you know this: They are usually the most glorious people you’ll ever meet. They shine bright, you can’t help but to instantly fall in love with them. And as such, I have never understood why they feel the need to be this self-destructive or why they never seem to understand how much they hurt all those around them who love them. But I’m not here to dwell on the hows and why’s and my own thoughts and experiences in this. I bring this up because people who are self-destructive, they suck the energy out of their loved ones. Or rather, if you love someone who wants to hurt themselves, it is emotionally draining. Because every time they want to hurt themselves, it feels like you failed, like you are not enough to them either. You can try to help them, keep them on track, and they can use your energy to keep standing. And with some people it works, with others unfortunately not as much. But now take Arthur Fleck who is an extreme case. He wants to hurt himself as well. You need to keep in mind that you will have to use every trick up your sleeve to stop him. Often. It can be little things as well. It can just be that he feels down and you have to tell him things to make him see the bright side again. But keep in mind, this won’t be once. This might be several times a day. It can be he has had a delusion that upsets him. You will have to put time and energy in to get him out of his dark mindset continuously. And if he’s anything like people I have experienced in the past, you might expect for him to bring extra drama when you’ve gone out and have a fun day, or part of a day, without him. Because he will be jealous, or feel left out, and he will probably have ruined the pans in the kitchen and burnt his own food and without words show you that you actually can’t leave. He might make hurtful or embarrassing comments when other people are around and his behaviour might scare of others, slowly isolating you from your friends. Until you are dependent on him, and constantly busy with him. And constantly trying to help him exist, and be sort of normal and sort of happy. Or in the worst case, you are constantly trying to keep all triggers away that will make him relapse and fall back into his dark thoughts. From experience, you’d think no one can handle that for long. But reality is that quite often, they persist, because they love the other THAT MUCH. Even if the one they love doesn’t understand, doesn’t seem to see, how much they sacrifice for them. But almost always they stick together till the end. And people can last for years like this. Years and years. It would count for you too.  Once you’re in, you don’t want to get out because of your love for him. But you are constantly tired, you are isolated, you miss all the opportunities life offers you, you are always setting aside everything to make sure Arthur won’t flip. And even then, he flips. Constantly. But you don’t see how odd the live is that you stumbled into. After several years of slowly slipping into this life, you don’t see reality anymore. You don’t see what you miss. You are just surviving. And taking his hand to survive along.

That is what I have seen and still see. That is the basis on which I analyse a character like Arthur Fleck. That is why I can’t imagine you could have a truly happy ever after with him. 6. But worse than what I am witnessing in real-life, where the person I know who reminds me of Arthur’s mental quirks a lot is known for talking about murder, is the fact that we know Arthur Fleck is actually capable of it. And we also know that no matter what you do, if something in his brain makes the flip and he suddenly thinks bad of you, you might be up the chopping block next. This has nothing to do with whether or not he loves you. At this point we assume his love for you is real, it is strong, it is probably a lot like an obsession because once he has found you he doesn’t want to let you go again. And if he so much suspects you want to leave him, he might just make the choice that you won’t get away from him. Or if he thinks you have turned against him, what then? So consider this, are you truly save with this man? Because I don’t think you are. 7. Now, you have chosen to risk all above. You help Arthur take his meds and they work. He is sort of stable. He has his occasional sudden outbreaks where he is upset, tries to harm himself, laughs uncontrollably, and if he’s fine he makes morbid jokes. And you want a family with him because hormones and all of that stuff. Now imagine you are a child and you grow up in this small flat. Imagine it like this: You grow up. Now replace Arthur as your father with someone you don’t find physically attractive. Replace him with your own real life dad for instance. Imagine that you are born from your actual parents, but you live in a crappy small flat and your father wastes his money mostly on cigarettes (so the place stinks, but hey, if you can stand it kuddos). Imagine that your father has this laugh like Arthur, whenever he is upset. It comes out at random and sometimes unexpected times. And since you grew up with it, it frightens you, because it means your father is either sad or angry. And a kid’s initial reaction is they want their parents to be happy, so if a parent cries they cry along. It’s imbedded in children. Your father being upset upsets you too. He’s unpredictable and suffers from moodswings. One moment, he smiles at you and says he is proud of something you did, the next he is angry and shouting. Sometimes he snaps at you for something you didn’t do. A lot of the times he ignores you as he’s caught up in his own mind.  When you are smaller, it is easier for him to be around you and he doesn’t show his ugly side as much, but when you grow older it gets worse. He is so familiar with you and your mom that he shows his bad side, his sadness, his irrational side, all of it, whenever he wants to. How will that make you feel? Scared? Uncertain? Not worthy perhaps, because of the way he snaps at you and blames you for things you didn’t do? Scared to say the wrong thing, to react in the wrong way. But as you grow up you discover that there is no right way to say things. When he is in one of his moods whatever you say is wrong, because a lot of the things are going on in his mind and he won’t or can’t share them with you. Sometimes you think he doesn’t like you because he’s distant, you can’t get him to respond to you and you might think he ignores you. He puts a lot of attention on himself with his unpredictable mood changes and the way he can be very dramatic about wanting to die, which can come out of nowhere and gives you the feeling you, as a kid, are not good enough. And it SUCKS. It sucks to feel that way. To be scared of your own parent all of the time. To be scared of what you say to him, what you do.

But the bright side, when you grow older you recognise parts of him in you. And if you can get through to him, he will recognise them too. And when you reach your twenties you’ll be able to talk. At first, it won’t be easy. But when it is, it is because you say you understand how he feels and you describe it to him so well, he believes you are pretty much a failure like him. He will say so in his own words. And you will accept it, but you won’t think you are a failure. Not anymore. Because you learnt how upsetting his behaviour can be, and you’re determined not to be that way. You show some of the symptoms, but not nearly as bad as him. And he reflects himself on you, thinks you are worse than you are, sees himself when he looks at you and takes it for a fact. Another of his delusions in which you play along because finally, finally, you two can connect.

You’d be so thrilled to leave the house and move to a place of your own.

Anyway.

 TLDR;   

-        Accept the fact that you can’t change Arthur, which also means you can’t erase his negative thoughts.

-        Would you be safe in this relationship? If you can’t control the reality he makes in his mind, and he actually starts murdering people, who can guarantee he won’t kill you next?

-        Even if you don’t care dying by his hands, the relationship will probably be physically and emotionally draining for you.

-        Still want to settle down? Do the test: Imagine your own father in Arthur’s role, behaving his way.

 In conclusion: I don’t think anyone would live a happy live with Arthur Fleck. I think probably the most stable relationship, that will last the longest and have some semblance of a happy life, would be with a partner who is quiet, innocent, unexperienced, and who would sacrifice everything to keep him from tumbling into his dark mind. And he will tumble, even with all the best efforts. And it will still be a tiring, numbing and draining experience. But such relationships do exist in the real world, and unfortunately, I am still witnessing one that has been going on for years. And that’s why, I can’t see, from this distance, how anyone would be happy with the character of Arthur Fleck. He is too far gone. On the aspect of love: I feel I need to make it clear that love is, in all cases above, not a point of issue. Love will not diminish because someone has troubles of body or mind. For this, I imagined the love between Arthur and the other, both-sided. And no matter the hardships, I believe that once love is there it won’t falter. By the way he might ensnare you it might even feel as if it’s deepened, strengthened. And if you recognise yourself in some of the points I have mentioned above but struggle with yourself or your feelings, then know that no matter what ails you, there will always be someone who can love you, and health issues don’t equal the end of relationships. Not at all. From what I have seen, most partners stick by their loved one till the end. So don’t ever think that you could not find love for having a ‘fault’, or for simply being somehow different.

On my personal view of Arthur: He is still hot as f*ck though and I understand fully why people wanna tap that arse >) Arthur Fleck is a character that has not only his appearance going for him, but also all the mystery and complexity that make him interesting to write, read and fantasize about. Joaquin brought something alluring to the character, not just by the dubious glances and the paradoxical character he is playing (sweet and helpful caretaker versus revenge seeking murderclown), but the fraility of his character, both his emaciated body and his compassionately brought complicated emotions, are enough to lure anyone in. Because he makes us believe he is vulnerable. And he makes us want to get out there and hug him. While at the same time, all of us know that he can stand up for himself and that he is stronger than you would have given him credit for at the start of the film. And I believe, his character of Arthur Fleck / Joker would be stronger than most of us clown lovers. But that will not detain me. And I will continue to write about him doing smutty things and stuff, just because I can. And I will fantasize good things happening to him, and him being fluffy and ok as well, and write that down too. But in reality, we all know it probably wouldn’t be ok. Hence why I bestow you a few Dark Arthur Fics to balance against the pile of fluff I occassionally drown myself in. We can’t take just the good side of him, when there’s the complicated less prettier side to take into account as well. And perhaps, perhaps I can show us that we can love him for it just the same. We’ll see....

. . . .

And now I pose the question to you: We base a lot in life on assumptions. We are extra sensitive to the emotions of those we love the most. Keeping all this in mind, Can you truly be happy with Arthur Fleck?