#i had to drape ice packs all over myself to sleep last night

[lesbianweed]

thrilled beyond words to report that it's no longer 89 degrees in my room. it's at 78 now and while that's not perfect it's infinitely better than yesterday

[urno1luv]

Loved the fanfic of Sub!Giselle! 💜

Can you make a part two author nim, but make it longer?? Pleasee??

But no pressure! Take your time and have a break author nim!! Love youu 💜🫶

i didn't expect so many ppl to see my work omg...🫣but ofc!! i think this might be the only sub idol thing i write bc it took so long to get out of that mindset myself😭😭hope u like this ♡

part 1 for anyone who missed it, but it's also a standalone so it doesn't matter which order u read it in <3

tags: this is actually a very cute fic if you ignore the sex, sub gigi, bratty gigi, sexually frustrated gigi, sex(🤩), pussy eating (both recieving), face sitting, gigi has pierced nipples, mommy kink, ass slapping (gigi recieving)

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Living with your girlfriend was a test of patience you were constantly failing. It wasn’t just that she was bratty—it was the artistry behind her annoyance. She made being difficult seem like a sport, and you were her unlucky opponent. Gigi loved you very much, but sometimes you couldn't help but think she did this to rile you up on purpose. The reason for this? You would find out soon enough <33

"Can you not breathe so loud?" she asked one morning, flipping through her phone at the breakfast table.

You paused mid-chew, glaring at her. "I’m eating cereal."

"And I’m eating in peace—or I was," she snapped, taking a delicate sip of her iced Americano, which she’d made you buy because "I just can't function without caffeine."

She left dishes in the sink like a declaration of war. “I’m giving you a chance to prove your cleaning skills,” she said with a smirk when you confronted her, her lacy bra strap slipping down her pale shoulder. It was almost like she did that just for your attention...

“Giselle, you’re literally standing next to the dishwasher.”

“Yeah, but my nails are wet,” she whined, holding up perfectly dry, manicured fingers. “You’re welcome for the visual.”

And don’t get started on her shopping habits. Packages arrived daily, piling up at the door like a shrine to her online shopping addiction. One time, she ordered a $200 sweater and wore it ONCE.

“Why didn’t you return it if you didn’t like it?” you asked, baffled.

“Because the hassle is too much. I dont have time for that. Im a busy woman,” she purred, draped across the couch, in an inviting manner.

If you so much as hinted at getting frustrated, she doubled down. “Aww, is living with me too much for you?” she teased one night, stealing the last slice of pizza you’d specifically saved for yourself. “Poor thing.”

But the worst was how she always needed the last word. Arguments with her were unwinnable, because no matter what, she’d throw out a smug, “You’re just mad that I’m fucking right,” and leave the room, huffing.

Some days you wondered why you hadn’t packed your bags yet. But then she’d do something annoyingly cute, like poke her head into your room at 3 a.m., blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“I can’t sleep. Wanna watch something?”

You sighed, and begrudgingly made space for your girlfriend. God, she knew how to make you stop being mad at her so easily, and all she had to do was flash a smile in your direction.

She removed her blanket to reveal a silky lingerie set, in a colour matching her beautiful hair. She crawled over to sit on your lap, her sultry gaze meeting your surprised one. "Put a show on already," she whined, "accidentally" grinding on you.

You realised just then, as you grabbed the remote that Giselle was frustrated because you didn't fuck her for 2 days (a new record for your little slut). Oh, you didn't realise how much fun u were gonna have with her <33

An hour passed, and you forgot just how annoying your girlfriend was. Only 15 minutes were spent watching the movie, the other 45 spent arguing with Aeri over the smallest stuff. How you sat, how your room looked, how bad the movie you chose was, and you've just about had it with her.

Your hand snaked up her back, as she yapped, and tightened, before flipping her over so that she was face down into the mattress. A small yelp was heard, but you didn't care. This brat was gonna pay.

Youre both in the middle of the bed, and you dragged Aeri by her hair so that she rested her head on the pillow instead. She moaned at the sharp pain in her scalp, the sound so lewd and pornographic. "Baby, if you wanted to get fucked so bad, just fucking ask, okay? Don't piss me off, I'm not a patient person," you snarled at her.

Her pussy clenched at your tone of voice, back arching into you. Within minutes, you had her ass up and her hands tied behind her back, with one of your hands roughly gripping her hip, holding her down, the other pushing her head down into the pillow as you thrust the dark strap inside of her dripping cunt. You slapped her ass a few times, the flesh jiggling, her guttural moans escaping her mouth. The muffled cries and moans sounded like music to your ears, bringing you both closer to your edge, but you weren't gonna let Giselle off. No, not yet.

You removed the strap and threw it aside, and she groaned loudly at the action. "What the fuck are you- a-ah.." You slapped her before she could even complain, and told her that if she doesn't make you cum in the next 5 minutes, she's not gonna cum at all tonight. The threat of Aeri's pleasure being taken away had her scrambling, her lips connecting to you clit, and the moans you were letting out had her encouraged.

"F- fuck... that's a good g-girl..." You gasped, pushing Gigi's head into your pussy. Hearing your praises got her dripping again, and she sighed into your cunt, the action bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you screamed out loud, thighs closing like an oyster around your beloved pearl, Aeri, who whined as she tasted your sweet essence, pleased to have made her girl happy. "My turn, please, mommy? I've been s'good to you..." You obliged, already losing your anger.

"Come here, Gigi," you softly murmured, and she obeyed, eagerly pushing you down, her pussy hovering above your face. You wrapped your hands around her plush thighs, pulling her so that her full body weight rested on your face. She immediately started grinding, and you plunged your tongue into her, swirling inside of her warm, pussy.

While sucking on her clit, your reached up to twist her pierced nipples, and Giselle threw back her head, squealing, reaching her high withing seconds, squirting all over your face. "M-mommy.... h-hah..." Aeri's body twitched, and she slumped beside you, completely fucked out.

Shakily, you got up and started to run water in the bath, before coming back to nuzzle into her neck. Giselle reciprocated, her arms wrapping around you, holding you closer.

Although she could be too much, you wouldn't trade her for the world.

[crackheadenergy101]

Mystery woman

Summary : billy finds a young woman wandering the woods, he lets the young woman stay the night and despite her flirty teasing and young restless antics learns to get close to her, especially after hearing he’s her imprint

Billy settles on his porch, savoring on his favorite homemade coffee he lifts his head peering at the setting sun, “so peaceful”.

Billy returns to his coffee, churning it softly

He sighs “ to peaceful”, the man couldn't suppress his boredom, he truly cherished the peace at most times but some days he felt so isolated and today was one of those moments. Abruptly a rustle, the bushes shake as someone or something crawls through, billy instantly veers his head “ who's there!” he shouted. A rabbit steps out and billy calms down a bit, releasing the fist he clenched so tightly

Billy goes to recline his head but swiftly sits back up catching a glimpse of a woman deep in the forest. “Hey!” he yelled, the woman turns her naked body to face him, her eyes widening as she sees the person that called out to her “ Ma’am are you ok!” he shouted as he rolls closer. Unaware, billy looked into the woman's eyes, he felt the world halt as he looked into her glimmering eyes.

Billy gets closer and so does the woman instinctively, they both freeze, the woman shakes her head, her hair moving as she does so. Billy never felt this way, he felt so close to her in such a short time, could this be

Imprintation?

Billy shakes the thought, acknowledging that this wasn't the time “ Ma’am can you understand English?” the nude woman nods “ are you lost, homeless?” she shakes her head in a yes, Billy nods “come, please inside I have clean clothes and food”. “please take a bath I find you some clothes” he refrains from looking at the woman waiting till she finds the bathroom, he goes to his daughter room finding the stranger something to wear, he plops the clean clothes on the bedside and returns to the kitchen proceeding to cook her dinner. He doesn't even notice her walking out, “ thank you sir” billy jumps, knocking his hand into the heated pot, accidentally scorching his hand, the woman hastily walks over “ are you, ok sir?” billy nods and gives an awkward laugh.

“ it's fine! Really!” the woman finds a rag, wetting it and placing it onto the bruised hand “ sorry for scaring you,” she says while laughing

“ it’s fine Ms?” The woman grins “ y/n,” she says whilst opening the fridge and grabbing an ice pack, “ and you?” Billy watches as y/n drapes the ice pack in the blue rag, she positions it back on the hand “ billy”. Y/n grins “ well it’s wonderful to meet you billy, thank you for giving me such a lovely warm welcome”, she says getting closer to Billy’s face “ y-y, your very welcome,” he says while cracking up, “ so what we’re doing in woods?” Y/n gets up and turns off the stove “ I don’t know myself” she says softly. “ I went on a walk after being so furious and ended up here,” y/n says, zoning out while pouring the food, billy gives a concerned look “ naked?”

Y/n snaps out of her trance and laughs hearing what the older man said “huh? Oh no! God no” She snorts and places the food on the table “ that happened in the middle of the woods, somehow” billy nods, still not being convinced.

“ do you have any family? Friends? Money” y/n shakes her head “ you can stay here for tonight till we figure something out” y/n gives a big smile “ thanks!”. Y/n eats the food, looking at photos as she finishes “cute kids” billy smiles “oh thank you” “ where are they now?” billy sighs with a smile “ oh living, my youngest Jacob lives with me but is usually out doing his own thing rarely is hone anymore, my oldest girls are doing their own thing too, one is married to a surfer in Hawaii Rebecca, and the other lives with me but again far to busy to be home Rachel”. “mhm sounds lonely” billy gives a laugh “oh trust me, it is” they both give a giggle and y/n sits up.

“ you must have more family? a brother?” “ Nope, though I do have sisters” y/n gives a smile asking about them, “ well I have an older sister Nora, and three younger sisters Jennie, Connie, Emmie” “ do you guys see each other often?” y/n asked. “eh not as much as I wish but at family gatherings, we see each other” billy goes to the sink and begins cleaning their dishes “ how about you?” the woman shrugs, itching her h/c hair “ complicated, we're a family but like not blood related and we don't live together either we're kind of a-” “ -pack?” y/n thinks about this before answering “ yeah pack, I think”. She gets up leaning over billy, her chest being on top of his head “you can leave the dishes to me, it's the least I can do” “ uh o-ok” billy moves from beneath her and she gives a smile as he goes to his couch. They sit and chat for a while before billy sees the night sky and hears wolves howling, “ wow it's dark so quickly” “ you know the saying” “ Time flies by fast when you're having fun, “ they say in unison they smirk at each other when finishing the sentence. “ God, I'm tired,” billy says “ me too, uh where do I sleep?”

“ my room, I'll sleep on the couch-” y/n gasps “ no I'll take the couch you can keep the bed really” billy smiles “ it's fine your a guest-” y/n shakes her head “ an unexpected one, you really can't give me your room” billy shapes his head “ well I certainly can't leave you here on the couch by yourself, near the door”. Y/n gives a mischievous smile, billy squint's “ what are you thinking” y/n acts surprised and put a hand on her chest “ my son's friends always have that smile when there up to something”

“ well it's not too bad really, I was thinking we could share a bed” billy gives smile and nervously gives a smile “ oh um, ok?” billy mentally groaned feeling quite lame for acting so awkwardly, he felt rusty the last time he needed to deal with these things was before Rebecca and Rachel he had no idea how to respond. “ Great! I'll go fix the bed” y/b says quickly walking towards his room, billy sighs and gives himself a moment before following,

Despite his confused feelings, billy felt so happy and he didn't know why, being with y/n felt like it was meant to be and that he should always be by her side, he finally felt so less lonely.

“ well what side do you usually take” “ right” y/n nods and getting comfortable on the left side, “ well I'm gonna go shower now” y/n nods waving by as he goes inside with his clothes.

Billy sits in his shower cleaning his hair, he felt like a teenager all over again, which made him feel upset but at the same time, excited. He comes back finding y/n asleep, he smiles and gets into bed giving her space and relaxing, the slept for an hour till y/n cuddled up to him, it felt nice, he missed this kind of touch “ms l/n-” “imprint” billy stops talking and let's y/n muzzle her face into his neck.

“ what?”

“ shhh,” y/n says

Billy smiles before falling asleep, knowing his assumptions were correct, he fell asleep once more, with y/n draped over him.

Y/n wakes up to an empty bed, looking around for her imprint, steps outside the room to be greeted by a group of young men and women “ hello” y/n says smiling. The family stares dumbfounded looking back from billy to the woman

Billy laughs, he eventually has to tell them everything and vice versa with y/n but for now he’ll wait for y/n to tell her truth

Till then he'll just enjoy the funny stares

[robinrunsfiction]

She’s The Prettiest Girl At The Party And She Can Prove It With A Solid Right Hook

Pairing: Dallon Weekes x Female Reader

Rating: General

Requested By: None

Word Count: ~3,900

Author’s Note: Wow, I started this story a LONG time ago. Like May. Anyway, I’ve always kinda liked the trope where one of the characters is from the wrong side of the tracks, but usually it’s the guy. Well I decided to change it around.

The frat house was packed with rowdy, drunk college kids, sweaty from the lingering heat of the day, as summer wasn’t giving up despite the school year starting. (YN) was with some friends, trying to finish her cup of warm, stale beer when the shoving started. She glanced over her shoulder to see a tall, lanky guy getting pushed around by one of the frat guys, her friend Abby’s ex-boyfriend Dave.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” Dave shouted at the other guy who looked rattled.

“Sorry dude, it was an accident,” the other guy replied, putting his hands up defensively.

“An accident?! You ruined my fuckin’ shirt!” Dave shouted, raising his fist. That’s when (YN) swung her fist right into the aggressor’s face. 

“Oh my god!” She cried out, trying to shake out the pain that shot through her hand as the frat brothers looked on in stunned silence. The whole party seemed frozen, staring at the scene.

“Out! Get them both out!” Dave shouted as he held his nose, blood joining the beer stains on his shirt.

Before (YN) could realize what was happening, rough hands were pushing her toward the door. The air outdoors felt refreshing and cool as she stumbled down the stairs and into someone.

“Oh my god, you hit that guy! He was gonna hit me and you hit him!” (YN) looked up and saw it was the guy she had jumped in front of. He still looked shocked, eyes wide.

(YN) laughed from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. “I did! Oh my god! Oh my god, we should get out of here!”

“Yea. Umm, can I walk you home or something?” he offered, starting to calm down.

“That would be great,” (YN) replied as they vacated the lawn. “I live in the dorms.”

He nodded as they started to walk back toward campus. “Does your hand hurt?”

“I think it’s ok? No, nope, wrong, my hand really hurts,” she winced as she flexed her fingers.

When they reached the next streetlight, he took her hand and examined it. “If you can move the fingers, it’s probably not broken. Should probably ice it though. There’s a convenience store up ahead, we can get some ice there.”

“Thanks,” she replied. 

“No, thank you!” He replied. “I’m Dallon by the way.”

“(YN). I’d shake your hand, but, ya know,” she shrugged.

“Do you normally haul off and punch guys in the face like that?”

(YN) laughed. “No, that’s my friend’s shitty ex-boyfriend. He’s always been an asshole, so when the opportunity finally presented itself, I had to take it.” Dallon laughed, the smile made his eyes crinkle, and (YN) noticed he looked pretty cute when that happened. 

The conversation lulled as they walked down the street. The night was fairly quiet once they were away from Fraternity Row, music coming from the occasional house, breaking the silence. Eventually they arrived at the convenience store and they headed inside. They got a cup of ice and (YN) stuck her hand inside as they finished the walk back to her dorm. As they arrived at her building, there was a chime.

“Is that your phone?” Dallon asked

“Yea, hold this,” she said, handing him the cup as she reached in her back pocket with her good hand. “Oh my god,” she muttered. “My stupid friend Abby is apparently getting back with Dave now and she never wants to speak to me again because I hit him. Whatever.”

“I’m really sorry I ruined things between you and your friend,” Dallon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “I just... I didn’t think that friendship was gonna last much longer anyway, ya know? We’re too different in too many ways.”

Dallon nodded. “Yea, I get it. Well, thanks again for saving me,” he smiled.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’ll see you around,” (YN) waved before heading inside.

~

(YN) wandered through the student union with her lunch tray in hand. It had been a few days since the fight and while the swelling and pain in her hand had gone down, she was starting to feel lost. Over the summer it had become clear that she was growing apart from the friends she had made during her freshman year, but the fact that they all abandoned her after one right hook still hurt.

“(YN)!” She heard someone calling. She glanced around and saw Dallon waving at her from an empty table.

She smiled and made her way over to him. “Hey Dallon, how’ve you been?”

“Good thanks. Wanna sit?”

(YN) felt her heart swell at the gesture. “Yea sure.”

“How’s the hand?”

“Getting better,” she replied, flexing her fingers. He reached out, took her hand gently, and examined it. She watched as his thumb ran across her knuckles before she looked up at his eyes. She hadn’t noticed them the night they met but they were sparkling blue. He looked up too and smiled.

“Thanks again, who knows what those jerks would have done if you hadn’t stopped that guy in his tracks.”

(YN) shrugged as she pulled her hand back. “Like I said, it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

“Weekes,” she heard a voice behind her say. She turned in her chair to see a few people looking at Dallon disdainfully.

“Hey,” he replied sheepishly as they walked past.

“What is your deal?” (YN) asked with eyebrows knitted together. “Making enemies wherever you go?”

“No, no, we were in a study group together last year and I told them I wouldn’t be working with them this year and I guess they’re… upset.”

(YN) nodded. “So what’s your major?”

“Music performance, you?”

“Marketing. So are you a singer, or play an instrument?”

“I play bass and sing,” he replied as he dug into his lunch.

“Good thing your hand didn’t get injured then. You need me to be your bodyguard full time?” She laughed.

“Maybe I should get your number so I can call in case I get into trouble again,” he asked with a sheepish smile playing at his lips.

“Oh you’re smooth. Gimme your phone then,” she replied with a smirk. “And feel free to call if you wanna hang out or whatever, not just when you’re causing problems.”

“Well in that case do you wanna get dinner tonight?”

“I’d love to, but I have to work,” she pouted.

“Where do you work?”

“Sunrise Cafe, on 2nd street,” she replied.

“I live near there, but I’ve never been,” Dallon confessed.

“Well feel free to stop by anytime. So, where do you live?”

“At 306 West,” he replied, almost embarrassed.

(YN)’s eyes went wide upon hearing that he lived in one of the most expensive apartment buildings off campus. “Wow! Well, feel free to come by anytime. It’s usually pretty slow in the evening, so any company is appreciated. Just don’t start any fights.”

Dallon laughed. “I think I can behave myself, at least for one night.”

~

“You come here often?” (YN) asked as she and Dallon were seated at a table in one of the nicest restaurants in town a couple of nights later.

“Only once before, when my parents came to visit last year,” Dallon replied.

“Well don’t I feel special,” she smiled coyly.

“You should,” Dallon replied and (YN) raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, you are special, you’re not like any other girl I’ve ever met I don’t think.”

“Ok I will accept that as a compliment,” she laughed.

(YN) quickly realized as they talked that their upbringings were vastly different, but that didn’t change the fact that she had a great time with Dallon. He really was quite charming and she enjoyed his company. When dinner was over, he drove her back to her back to her dorm, and even walked her to the door, his hand on her lower back.

“I had a nice time tonight. I haven't gone on a real date in a long time,” (YN) smiled. 

Dallon smiled back as he ran his hand through his hair and (YN)’s stomach did a flip. “I’m glad. Would you like to go out again?”

(YN) nodded and took a step toward Dallon. “Yea,” she replied. “I’d really like that.”

Dallon seemed a little nervous as one hand found her waist. "I really like you (YN)," Dallon murmured.

“I like you too,” she said looking up in his eyes, her heart pounding as she leaned even closer to him.

“I really wanna kiss you,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers.

“Then you should,” she replied. He didn’t hesitate a second more, pressing his lips to hers, as his hand caressed her face. His large hand on her waist holding her close as she draped her arms over his shoulders. Her body curved into his as their lips moved together.

When she pulled back and looked into Dallon's eyes, he looked completely enamoured and she knew at that moment that there was no way that she wasn’t going to fall hard.

~

It didn’t take long for Dallon and (YN) to settle comfortably into each other's lives. He would stop by the cafe when she worked to keep her company during late shifts, and she’d listen to him practice bass for hours while she studied while making up little songs for her. 

He cleared space in one of his drawers for her so she could stay over because he hated when she had to go at the end of the night. She loved waking up next to him, brushing his hair out of his face in the morning when they didn’t have early classes or work, and he’d smile softly in his sleep. 

(YN) loved the way he looked at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen, even when she just finished a long shift at the cafe and the way he touched her with such reverence that she’d never experienced before. At first she worried they were moving too quickly, but she didn’t care, it just felt right.

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Dallon asked in the middle of November.

“No, me and my dad never really celebrate it,” (YN) shrugged. “Are you going home?”

“Yea,” he paused. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Well I have to work the next afternoon,” she replied.

“Good, that gives us an excuse to leave early,” he laughed.

“Oh so that’s why you want me to come along!” She said with a smirk.

“No, that’s not it," he replied quickly.

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time," (YN) laughed. “Sure, I guess this could be fun. Who doesn’t love meeting their boyfriend’s parents.”

~

The ominous feeling settled in the pit of (YN)’s stomach as soon as Dallon pulled onto his street. The houses were large and stately, set back on well manicured lawns. When he pulled into the driveway of his parents’ house, she took a deep breath before getting out and following him to the front door.

“Mom? Dad? We’re here!” Dallon called as they walked in.

“Oh wonderful! Hello, you must be (YN)!” Dallon’s mom said as she walked into the foyer.

“Yep, that’s me, nice to meet you,” (YN) said pleasantly. She was surprised to see how fancy the older woman was dressed since she was just in the kitchen cooking. Glancing down at her jeans and plain sweater, (YN) felt even more out of place.

“We have so much to talk about, Dallon doesn’t tell us hardly anything it seems. Let me show you up to your room,” she smiled and started up the stairs. (YN) shot Dallon a look and he shrugged before they both followed her. “(YN), we have the guest room ready for you. Dallon you’ll find your room just as you left it, for better or worse,” she laughed dryly.

“Thanks,” (YN) smiled awkwardly, setting down her bag.

“I have to go check the turkey. Dallon, go find your father,” she said before rushing back downstairs.

“That was,” (YN) said astonished, shaking her head.

“That was my mom,” Dallon nodded knowingly.

“So am I allowed in your room? Or is innocent little Dallon not allowed to have girls in there?” (YN) laughed, running her hand up his arm.

Dallon groaned in embarrassment. “Come on.”

A while later, they were sitting down to dinner with Dallon’s parents. (YN) could feel their eyes on her, silently picking her apart.

“So (YN), are you also pre-med?” Dallon’s mom asked.

(YN) was taken aback for a moment. Pre-med? Dallon told her he was a music major. She glanced over at him for clarity.

“No, umm, we met through mutual acquaintance,” Dallon answered.

“Yea, I’m a marketing major actually,” (YN) replied, her mind finally clicking back into gear. But she noticed the way his parents looked at each other with disdain.

“And what do your parents do?” His mom asked.

At this point (YN)'s defenses started to go up. “My mom split when I was little, and my dad works for Exact Medical Systems.”

That seemed to be a good answer, and their interest seemed piqued. “Is he a medical researcher?” Dallon’s dad asked.

“No, he does maintenance. Keeps everything running, so he’s really quite important,” she replied indignantly.

Dallon’s dad cleared his throat and the meal continued on in silence.

After everyone had finished eating, Dallon's dad called him into his office to speak with him. (YN) offered to help clear the table, but Dallon's mom insisted she didn’t need any help and hurried back to the kitchen as if it offered her sanctuary from (YN) and all her undesirable qualities. Unsure what else to do, (YN) retreated back to her room, but as she passed by the office she couldn't help her attention being caught by the conversation coming from the other side of the ajar door.

“Dallon, you cannot be wasting your time with a girl like that. If you expect to get into Harvard Medical School like I did, you need to focus on your studies. You need someone who has the same goals, the same expectations of their life, not someone that comes from a broken home without a clear direction or plan.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me! Who are you to dictate to me how my life should go!”

“I am your father!” He bellowed.

“And you want me to be just like Eric. Blindly following in your footsteps, whether I like it or not!”

(YN) had heard enough. She turned and hurried up the stairs to her room and slammed the door behind her. She started to repack her bag as she tried to think of how she could get home with the small amount of cash she had on her. She was startled from her thoughts when there was a knock on the door.

“(YN)?”

She opened the door and let Dallon in. “What the hell is going on?!” She snapped.

Dallon sighed and ran his hands over his face. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Obviously,” she muttered as she zipped up her bag.

“Ok, let me grab my things,” Dallon replied. He took a step toward her and she just put her hand up to stop him.

“Just hurry up.”

He nodded in acceptance and hurried out.

Soon they were back in his car, driving back toward campus. (YN) didn’t hear anything further of what was said between Dallon and his parents, as she waited in her room until he told her that he was ready to go, and his parents made no attempt to stop them leaving. She sat silently with her head resting against the window. “Why did you lie about your major? Why didn’t you tell me you’re pre-med? When do you even study?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Dallon sighed. “I didn’t. Last year I was in the pre-med program, with a music minor. At the end of last year I changed programs because I, I just love music so much more than science. I just don’t give a damn about it, but my parents are paying for everything under the condition that I get into medical school. I can't tell them I've changed majors or they'll cut me off."

(YN) scoffed. "Oh because god forbid you have to take out a loan or apply for a scholarship or get a job like some plebeian! And what are you going to do for the next two years until suddenly you aren't going to Harvard or wherever? What then?"

"I dunno," he replied meekly.

"And I'm never gonna be the type of girl they want for you. God, it's like I'm in Legally Blonde, or Crazy Rich Asians or something! But life isn't a rom-com," she muttered. “There aren’t happy endings.”

"I don't care about what they think of you (YN)! I like you, a lot, and I want to be with you," he said emphatically. 

"So I'll just be part of your secret double life? Take this exit," she sighed.

"This isn't the one for campus,"

"Just do it and then take the first left."

After a couple more turns into the neighborhood, they pulled up in front of a small green house that looked like it needed a new coat of paint and a patchy, brown lawn. "Dallon, this is why we aren't going to work. This is where I'm from and it’s why I'm not gonna fit in with your snooty, upper crust life."

(YN) got out of the car, pulling her bag with her and marched into the house. Dallon sat in stunned silence, her words reverberating through his mind. He waited, wondering if she was going to come back out. Then a light in a room at the end of the house turned on and he saw her silhouette in the window. She paused, and then drew the curtains.

~

A couple weeks later (YN) was working the last open mic night at the cafe before all the students left campus for winter break. The crowd wasn't huge, it never was on open mic night, but she still was busy. Eventually the lights dimmed and her coworker went up to announce the first performers. 

"Ok, first up we have a duo called… I don't know?"

(YN) shook her head at her coworker butchering the band name, but her attention was quickly drawn to the small stage. 

"Hey, my name is Dallon, this is my friend Ryan, we are I Dont Know How But They Found Me. Unfortunately that didn't fit on the sign up sheet." The crowd laughed and Dallon was grinning. "This first song is Modern Day Cain."

(YN) had avoided all the places she knew Dallon would be once she was back on campus after the Thanksgiving break, but suddenly he was right there. She tried to remain calm and focused on her work, but she couldn’t help but remember all the times she remembered him practicing those bass lines. When they finished the song, there was a smattering of applause. 

"This next song is called I'd Be A Punk If My Mom Would Let Me," Dallon announced and (YN) couldn't help the snort of laughter that broke through the silence before the song started. The second song got a bit more applause as the crowd warmed to the band.

"Umm, this last song is a cover of a song by Frank Iero and the Cellabration. I'd like to dedicate it to a girl who probably wishes she could punch me in the face right now. It's called She's The Prettiest Girl At The Party, And She Can Prove It With A Solid Right Hook."

(YN) looked up from the spot she was wiping up on the counter and met Dallon's eyes. As she listened to the words that he was definitely singing right to her, she felt a tightness in her throat. 

After the song was finished, they packed up their gear and the next performer took the stage. Between artists there was a flurry of people looking for refills of their coffee and tea, and (YN) lost track of Dallon, so she assumed he left. 

At the end of the night the last few customers were getting up to leave when she spotted Dallon sitting alone at a table with his laptop open.

"We're closing," she said, walking over to him.

"Can we talk?" He asked, looking up at her with pleading eyes. (YN) shrugged and sat down next to him and he turned his computer to her.

"What's this?"

"I told my parents I switched majors."

(YN)'s eyebrows shot up in surprise and she leaned in to read the screen. Dallon’s email to his parents was emphatic, explaining about how he didn’t want to disappoint them, but he had to pursue what he loved. He couldn’t imagine years of schoolwork to ultimately be trapped in such an important job that he didn’t enjoy. His dad’s reply was nothing short of hostile, calling him a disappointment, berating him for wasting his intelligence, and ultimately informing him they would not be paying for anything starting with the upcoming spring semester.  

"Do you need help filling out the student loan paperwork?" (YN) asked, sitting back.

Dallon shook his head. "No thanks, I think I got it figured out."

"But why'd you tell them now? Why not wait like you were planning?"

"Because you and music are the two things that make me happiest. I don't want to hide either anymore,” he said looking at (YN). 

“We aren’t…” (YN) started, shaking her head as she trailed off. 

“We could be again, if you’ll have me,” he replied, reaching out and taking her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles. “From the moment you threw that punch for me, I knew you were something special. You’re strong, clever, and beautiful and I’m sorry that my family made you feel anything less than that. And I’m sorry I was anything but completely honest with you from the beginning. I love you (YN).”

(YN) tore her eyes away from her hand in his to look out the window. It seemed to be snowing outside, but she couldn’t be sure since her vision was blurred by tears about to spill over. She sniffled and blinked hard, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Since that day I’ve been trying to think about who I wanted to talk to about all this with, but the only person I could think of was you. Over and over again I wanted to come running back to you Dallon. Because despite it all, I love you too.”

Dallon reached up and brushed away the tears away from her cheek "Please say we can be together again," he pleaded.

(YN) bit her lip and nodded. "I want my friend back. I want the person who I'd throw a punch for back. I want you back in my life because it feels empty without you."

Dallon wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could for how they were sitting. "I love you (YN), I love you so much," he murmured. 

[drreidfics]

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two.  I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

       Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank.   '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin.        "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and  left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!"                                   "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby"  he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?'  Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students.  "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now."  I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid"  I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (epilogue)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on Tumblr!

a/n: it seems everyone wants an epilogue! Pretty much all fluff, so if that’s not your thing, I’m not sure how you got here… haha 

Thanks for all of your support again. I really, really appreciate all of your kind words and gestures of kindness. Hope you like this epilogue!

///

“We’ll buy a house in Storybrooke and adopt a dog. We’ll give Henry a few brothers and sisters. Your parents will adore me. And we’ll spend far too much time forgetting that any of this ever happened. But, I do reckon we’ll argue about paint chips while we’re working on remodeling the house. Unfortunately.”

///

Epilogue

SPRING

In early spring, Killian and Emma buy a house a few blocks away from her parents, not wanting to be too far from town, but still needing their own space. 

It’s a beautiful home on the corner, with a huge backyard and a generous floor plan. There are three bedrooms that they can fill with children, or so Killian imagines. 

He learns that Emma really likes big windows to let light in, and he tells her that it makes sense, because since they met, she’d brought a lot of light into his life. She rolls her eyes at him, but he knows she appreciates it.

There isn’t a lot to unpack on the first day, with the sum total of their furniture coming from Emma’s abandoned apartment. They don’t need much. Not yet.

He finds Emma sitting in their bedroom once Henry’s been put to sleep in his own bedroom just up the hall. She seems tired, maybe a little emotionally worn out from everything that happened.

“Hey,” Killian says, sitting beside her. He rubs her lower back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You alright, love?”

Emma meets his eyes, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I’m just tired. It was a long day.”

He hums knowingly. They stare at one another for a few moments, silent. Killian finds that he can’t stop grinning. This has been a day he’s looked forward to for a while. The opportunity to live in a beautiful home with his family is beyond exciting.

“We should get married.”

“Married?”

He nods, hoping she knows he’s serious. Killian stands up so he can kneel in front of her. “I love you so much, Emma. I want you to know I’ll always, always be by your side. Will you marry me?”

She tilts her head to the side just slightly. Her eyes become watery and she reaches for his hand to squeeze it. “I can’t argue with that.” 

“Is that a yes?”

Emma laughs a little. “Yes. It is.”

They decide to have their wedding as quickly as they can, not wanting to waste any time. 

The idea both confuses and delights her parents. Mary Margaret immediately wants to help, something Emma is grateful for, and David questions him for about an hour in the privacy of his study about his true intentions.

Over the course of a few far too short weeks, Killian works on fixing a few odds and ends around the house while Emma plans an intimate wedding for them.

He learns her natural routines and schedules. Tries to fit as much time in with her as he can in between work and trying to prepare for both a wedding and a baby.

She introduces him to her friends. Belle the town librarian, Robin and Regina the happily married barkeepers, and Ruby the fashion designer. 

He meets friends of his own at work at the harbor, too. Will, who keeps him on his toes, and Graham who would rather work in the forest. They go for beers on nights when Emma’s friends are over helping with wedding prep.

He can’t help but laugh when they clash heads over paint chips. 

She’s right. Of course she’s right. She always is.

They form traditions out of game nights and group dinners. Their friends watch Henry on occasion, and in turn, Killian offers them free outings on the water on a ship that he helps run as part of his job.

They get married at the end of the spring, under a canopy of flowers and hanging twinkle lights, in Emma’s parent’s backyard. 

Henry wears a little suit to match Killian’s, while Emma makes the most stunning bride in a white dress that flows to the ground. She’s glowing, absolutely radiant, though she worries that her baby bump is too obvious to keep hiding it from everyone.

So, once they say “I do”, and find themselves slow dancing at the party afterward, Killian asks in a low whisper pressed to her ear, “Are you ready to tell Mom and Dad?”

Emma laughs a little, leaning her head back so she can meet his eyes. “You’re going to call them that all the time now, aren’t you?”

“If it will irritate your father, absolutely.”

His wife- his wife!- tilts her head at him, giving him a soft sigh of disapproval. “We should tell them. Mom’s going to flip.”

Mary Margaret does, in fact, flip.

/

SUMMER

The summer brings them a new friend called Wilby, who enjoys bones, licking Henry’s toes, and long walks along the beach. 

Summer brings a nasty sticky heat and messy ice cream cones. Henry’s favorite flavor is chocolate. Emma’s is mint chocolate chip, which she eats by the pint balanced on her pronounced baby bump. 

In the summer, there are fireworks on the Fourth of July, town celebrations, visits to Granny’s Diner for lunch during Emma’s time off work, outings on boats, trips to the beach, and nights spent sitting outside with friends that seem to always be over to visit.

Emma’s sitting in the grass with Henry and Mary Margaret, laughing genuinely at her mother while she squeezes their son’s hands. 

Ruby’s running around with Wilby, complaining about how massive the yard is, while Belle and Will sit at the picnic table with Robin, Regina, and a pack of cards.

“So.” Neal says, a gentle unassuming smile on his face, approaching Killian at his spot on the back porch steps. “It’s been a few months. What’s it like, being married?” 

Neal offers him a cold beer. He takes it, shaking his head while he laughs. “Why? Are you thinking of getting married soon?”

Neal sits beside him, sighing as he drapes his arms around his knees at chest level. “Maybe.” He sips his drink. “So what’s it like?”

If he had to define it, he doesn’t think he could. It’s not been without its highs and lows, but for the most part, they’ve enjoyed peace. He thinks they deserve it, after everything that they’ve been through.

Again, Killian shakes his head. He stares at Emma, at the way she throws her head back to laugh at something Ruby says to her. At the soft stray curls of her ponytail. At the gentle swell of her body in the seventh month of pregnancy.

He can tell even from several feet away that she’s glowing. 

“It’s home.”

Neal considers him briefly. He hums into his bottle and has another sip. 

It’s a bit awkward, because he and Neal haven’t shared as much time together as they should. In fact, if he thinks about it, he and Neal hardly know one another. 

All he knows is that Emma and Neal were once in a troubled relationship, and now they were friends. If they could even call it that.

“Thank you.” Neal says with a tiny smile. “For giving her everything she needs. God knows I was never enough for her.”

Killian isn’t sure what to say, so he smiles back before looking ahead again. “How did you meet Emma?”

Neal seems to think about it, maybe searching for a good place to start. He takes a steadying breath to prepare for whatever he’s about to say. 

“I lost my parents growing up. Mom… ran off with another guy and Dad went criminally insane.” He stares down at his beer. “Left me to fend for myself. I met Emma at a gas station in Washington state. She was on the run like me.”

Killian found himself surprised. Knowing what he did about Neal, he hadn’t thought too deeply about his background. It surprised him even more to think that he could understand him. After all, he himself was running from the whole world. For years.

“What were you running from?”

Neal shakes his head. He laughs in spite of himself, a soft chuckle from his nose. “I still don’t know, man.”

He clears his throat and sets the bottle down on the step beside him.

“I was the same way. Running. Hiding.” Killian admits. He shakes his head. “That hole in your chest doesn’t go away, does it? Nothing helps.”

Neal clenches his jaw as he averts his gaze. “No.”

On a soft breath, Killian stands and finds a football in the grass nearby. He kicks it toward Neal to get his attention. 

The last time he’d played football was with Liam, years ago, but it was clear to him that Neal needed something powerful to pull him out of himself. He needed a brother.

“My brother and I used to kick the ball back and forth until the sun went down.” Killian reminisced. He tipped his head back toward the yard. “What do you say?”

Neal offers him a shrug. “I might be rusty… but sure.”

On their way into the yard, Killian stops to help Emma to her feet. She sways into him, caught off balance, and he chuckles, asking, “You okay, love?”

She hums, sighing softly. “Just a little lopsided.” Emma glances past him at Neal, who now has the ball scooped up onto the top of his shoe. “You guys are going to kick the soccer ball around?”

“For just a little while.” Killian says. “Time to finally get some use out of the yard.” He notices her attention rests on the man from her past. “Okay?”

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Later that night, while he and Emma prepare for bed in the bathroom, he lifts his eyebrow at her in the mirror. “Are you sure you’re alright with me befriending Neal?”

Emma stops brushing her teeth to spit into the sink. When she finishes rinsing her mouth, she shrugs. “It’s just a little weird, but it’s fine.”

“Like… how, weird?” Killian wonders. He turns around so he can lean against the bathroom counter with his hand over his opposite wrist.

His wife sighs. She presses her hands to her lower back. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m nervous that now that things are finally kind of normal between us, something will change.”

“So Neal feels weird to you.”

Emma cringes at that. “No. Not really.”

Killian hums. “Did you know that he’s taking online classes? He’s trying to get a degree to teach.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “No. I didn’t.”

“I think he’s changed. For the better.”

Emma turns to look for something on the counter. “Well, then all the best to you and your new bromance. You have my blessing.”

He rolls his eyes, smiling, and steps away from the sinks so he can kiss her temple. “You don’t have to be okay with it if you’re not.”

“He needs a friend. You’re the best one I can think of around here.”

With a clever little smirk, Killian lifts a brow. “Are you saying I’m your best friend?”

Emma, clearly exhausted, rolls her eyes. Hard. “Killian, I’m carrying your child.”

“And you’re doing it so well, my dear.” Killian offers her a kiss. “I love you. You’re my best friend. In case you were wondering.”

A little blush finds her cheeks and her lashes flutter against her cheeks. “You’re my best friend too.”

/

FALL

Storybrooke in the autumn is gorgeous, and it’s Emma’s very favorite thing. She tells him she loves the way the colors turn the streets burnt orange and red, and even though he’s seen fall before, he swears it’s so much better through her eyes. 

She asks him to take them for a drive through the forest on Sunday afternoons so they can show Henry the colors of the trees while Wilby hangs out the window, tongue wagging in the wind. 

On mildly cold nights, she comes to bed wearing her bright red flannel pajamas and socks, explaining that she’s freezing, but an hour later she’ll change because she’s too hot.

Henry likes the leaves that pile up in their backyard. He really likes the pumpkin bread that Mary Margaret brings over for them to share, and the way David’s pickup truck sounds when it starts.

The autumn is when Emma goes into labor. She grits her teeth and tells him as much while she’s trying to fold laundry one late afternoon. It’s a blur of lights and colors and sounds. A blur of long hours standing and sitting at her side. A blur of emotions when it’s finally time to push. 

Brushing back her sweaty hair from her face, allowing her to squeeze the circulation out of his one and only hand, encouraging her as much as she’ll let him. 

And when it happens, when the first cries break the surface tension, everything else fades away. 

Ten tiny fingers. Ten tiny toes. 

Pointy little ears and soft dark hair. 

Shrieks that turn into gentle whimpers. 

Emma, Emma, Emma.

He kisses her soundly and whispers, “You did it. I’m so proud of you, love.”

She laughs a little, her eyes filled with tears. She’s unable to look away from the newborn on her chest.

“She’s so beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emma looks up at him with a glare. 

He chuckles. “I’m only teasing. She clearly gets it all from you.”

His heart has never been as full as it is that early autumn morning, standing in a hospital room with his newborn daughter in his arms and his life forever changed.

The town throws an autumn festival, full of games and food along Main Street. There’s a hayride that one of his closest friends, Robin, takes them on free of charge.

There are fewer things he thinks are sweeter than seeing his son in a Halloween costume a few weeks later, dressed up like Peter Pan, except maybe seeing his newborn daughter as Tinkerbell.

For many years on the island, Killian ignored holidays. There was no need to celebrate when it was just him, and even fewer reasons while he wallowed in sorrow and grief. 

There were a lot of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving. 

Friends. Family. 

It had been so long since he’d had either, but it felt like he’d known them forever. 

Finally gathered around the dining table, Killian takes a long look around at the faces of his friends and family. 

Emma sits with their daughter in a wrap pressed to her chest, her soft swaths of dark hair peeking out on top, so gentle and sweet. Henry sits between them, happily digging into his meal without any thought. 

“I’d like to make a toast.” Killian says, standing. He clears his throat. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to Emma and I that you would choose to come to our home and spend today with us. That’s sort of what I’d like to toast, actually, uh… not all of you know this, but for a good portion of my life, I chose to isolate myself. I literally lived on an island. I had nothing to celebrate, and I didn’t want to, either.”

Pausing, he meets Emma’s eyes and returns her smile.

“But this year, I have so much to celebrate. And I want to thank all of you for that. You welcomed me into your community without a second thought. I’m thankful this year for my family.” He looks to his children, then to David and Mary Margaret. He turns to the rest of the table. “And for your friendship. Without it, I would be as lost as I once was.

“So, a toast, to the community we have. And to living a life worth celebrating.”

“Here here!”

/

WINTER

Winter brings him full circle. 

On the first snowfall of the year, Killian wakes to Emma’s excited gasps and her hands on his arm, shaking him awake.

“It’s snowing! Killian, it’s snowing!”

She’s out of bed faster than he can open his eyes all the way, already rushing up the hall to get their son out of his crib. With a small smile, he waits for her to return, both of their children in her arms.

She’s breathless, her hair still a mess from sleep, yet she’s smiling so happily. “Come on, Daddy, we gotta go out and get some of the snow!”

Henry giggles. “Daddy go!”

They work as a team to prepare the children for their first snow of the year, and the moment they step outside, Emma turns to him, absolutely beaming.

It’s been a year. A year since the ocean brought her to him.

He can still remember the day she asked him to take her out into the first snow of the season, her eyes shining just as much as they do now. 

She doesn’t have to say anything for him to know that this is a meaningful day for her. For them.

In one sense, the first snow is a reminder of the beginning of their relationship. The day they’d started to see one another as they truly were.

If there’s anything this year has taught him, there’s a lot to love about learning Emma and Henry in a world far from the chilly, wintery sea.

Henry loves the snow. He catches snowflakes on his mittens and keeps calling out for them to show them. And then there’s footprints in the snow, and tasting snow, and falling in the snow. Crying because the snow is too cold, but laughing the moment he’s safe in Killian’s arms.

And when they go back inside, all Henry wants to do is rush straight back out into it again.

Storybrooke at Christmastime is a feast of colors, foods, and celebration. 

They spend a lot of time with family and friends, gathered together at Granny’s for her special holiday menu. Killian and Emma build a snowman that Henry helps them decorate. Mary Margaret and David help them find the perfect, massive tree that goes in their foyer.

On Christmas morning, well before the children have stirred, his wife finds him sitting in front of the fireplace, lined with stockings, reading a book that he swore he’d read months ago. When he was on the island, he could read several books in one sitting. Now, not so much.

“I have a present for you.” Emma says, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

Killian lifts an eyebrow. “It’s not Christmas until the children are up.”

She laughs into his ear and then joins him on the sofa, a wrapped gift in her hands. “I know… just trust me.”

His mind races, unsure of what this secret gift could possibly be that it would require him to just trust her. 

Taking a deep breath, she extends the present toward him. “I’ve been working on this all year.”

He hesitates, his thumb finding the crease in the wrapping paper corner. “Oh, so no pressure, then.” He winks at her, smirking. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Quickly, he pulls the paper away from what lies beneath. At first, he isn’t sure what he’s looking at. It’s a hardcover book with the word “Journal” in sprawling cursive on the front.

He flips the book open, curious.

On the first page, there’s a date, a small entry, and a photograph. The date is Christmas Eve, only a year ago, and the entry reads:

Today, you told me that you were home here. This journal is going to be a document of that. 

The photo is of he, Emma, and Henry sitting in their favorite booth at Granny’s. He remembers Mary Margaret insisting that they take a picture on his very first day in town. Now, he’s glad he has it.

While he looked absolutely miserable physically, he can still remember not feeling any pain until he had to lie down to sleep that night. 

He flips the page. Another entry. The following day.

“I don’t think I’m fond of peppermint, Emma.” But you still smelled like peppermint all day today. 

Killian laughs under his breath, smirking at the photo she’d clearly taken of him incognito, biting a candy cane.

He continues to flip through the journal, addicted to seeing Emma’s insights of their experiences.

We argued over paint chips for exactly 3 minutes before you doubled over laughing and let me choose all the right shades of white. Thank you.

A photo of the paint chips in question follows.

Killian continues turning the pages until he finds one day in particular that finally pulls him out of the gift.

Their wedding day.

You smelled like the ocean today.

A photo of he and Henry standing on the beach much later in the night follows. They’re both barefoot, standing in the sea foam. He hadn’t realized she was taking pictures. 

Looking up at Emma, he finds her nervously biting on her lower lip.

“You did this everyday?”

She nods. “Yeah.” He flips the page. “Just like your mom’s journal. Except this one, I hope, gives you different feelings when you look at it.”

Killian hums. “It does.” 

He can’t help but smile, studying a photo of his son kissing Emma’s growing bump just a few months ago. 

“Look at today.”

He does as she asks, flipping all the way to the end of the journal. The final entry is a little bit longer than the others he’s had the time to read.

This year, you: bought a house, got married, got a new job, made a lot of friends, had a baby, adopted a dog, watched a lot of cable TV, celebrated every holiday, loved your kids with everything you had, and spent every day in between making a difference. Thank you for choosing us, Killian.

A photo of him and the children sitting at the breakfast table follows. His baby daughter in one arm, Killian’s singing one of those silly nursery rhymes along with Henry, who sits at the table beside him, beaming brightly with crinkles by his eyes. 

He remembers the giggles, the fit of laughter that came from Henry’s belly, and the way his sticky fingers felt against his cheeks and lips when he leaned in close enough. 

The photo is pure joy. A true encapsulation of the year they’ve shared.

Like before, he isn’t sure how Emma went unnoticed taking this picture, but he’s glad she did. 

“This year was special for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason is that it was your first year away from the island.” Emma says. “And I wanted to give you something that proved that it was worth it. That proved you were here and it mattered.”

He looks up at her, tears welling in his eyes. He manages to smile softly at her. “Thank you.”

Emma puts her right hand on his face, rubbing her thumb against the apple of his cheek. “I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for being there that day. For me and Henry. This book is proof that we’re here, too.”

Killian turns his head to kiss her palm. He sets the book aside and determinedly lays Emma back on the sofa with his lips pressed to hers. She runs her fingers through his hair as they languidly share a stolen moment, free of distraction and interruption.

Before he can get too carried away, Killian breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against Emma’s. 

She bites on her lip after her tongue darts out to soothe it, a twinkle in her eye. “What was that for?”

“For giving this year to me.” He looks into her eyes, cocking an eyebrow. “Quite literally.”

She hums sweetly, tugging at his hair. “Here’s to seventy more, my love.”

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Persistence ⊰

Pairing: Johnny Utah x Reader

Request: Could u do one where the reader is a nurse who runs into Utah a bunch of times and he flirts and she just isn’t impressed but he keeps going and then she finally sees it - @jadore30​

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, mention of alcohol

A/N: Thanks for requesting this! Love Johnny Utah and I’m glad that I finally wrote a little something with him. I’m sorry for the terrible title, I couldn’t think of a good one lol. But anyways, I hope you like it!

Johnny Utah was an overconfident, cocky bastard.

The other nurses would fawn over him whenever the FBI agent dropped by the hospital after a case goes awry. You, however, couldn’t understand the appeal of him. Sure, Utah had an irritatingly handsome face and a body seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves. However, they still weren’t enough to make up for his arrogance.

Not to you, at least.

It was close to midnight when you were paged to the emergency room after taking a short break. You had rounded the corner, noticing how empty and quiet it was before heading towards bed number twelve where your new patient was waiting. Pushing aside the privacy curtain, you cursed under your breath when you saw Johnny sitting on the hospital bed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Seriously, Utah?” You spoke, exasperated. “This is the third time this month alone.”

“What can I say? I wanted to see you tonight, darling,” Johnny winked as you examined his injuries, which all seemed very easy to treat. Well, that’s what you had thought until you saw him holding an ice pack on top of his swollen wrist, most likely from a sprain.

Shaking your head, you might as well do your job now so that he could soon go on his merry way. With a deep sigh, you took a pair of gloves from the supply cart nearby and put them over your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Johnny watching as you gathered the things you needed to clean the gash on his arm.

“What went wrong this time?” You asked him, gently cleaning the tender skin around his wound with a cotton pad dipped in solution. The cut was deeper than you had initially thought, and he definitely needed stitches for it.

“Drug raid,” he answered, and you caught sight of his tongue darting out, licking his chapped lips. “One guy got away and put up one hell of a fight. I didn’t see his knife at first, so that took me by surprise.”

“You didn’t wait for back-up?”

“There was no time, and I thought I could handle him by myself.”

Johnny flicked his dark hair to the side, his chestnut-brown orbs then staring at your concentrated gaze. You noticed the heat rising up in your cheeks when you briefly locked eyes, and you felt something—unexplainable. Swiftly, you looked away, your focus returning to the task at hand.

“And your wrist?”

“Tripped and landed on it. Doesn’t really hurt though, I’ve been through a lot worse.”

You nodded before you threw out the dirty cotton pad. You then switched to a new clean pair of gloves before threading a needle. “So, do you call the main desk first and check to see if I’m working before getting yourself injured while on the job?”

“Is it bad wanting to get treated by the best nurse in California?” Johnny let out a low chuckle before wincing at the stinging sensation of the needle’s sharp end piercing through his skin. “But if I say yes, will you finally agree to go on a date with me?”

“Not happening,” you declined, but you couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on your face. “Not in a million years.”

“Come on, please?” He pleaded, batting his lashes at you as if it would help his case. “Just one date, that’s all I want.”

You were used to this by now, the constant flirting and his silly attempts in asking you out. Ever since you met him four months ago, Johnny had been quite relentless, doing everything he could to convince you to give him a chance. But you simply weren’t impressed by him, and you would much rather keep your relationship with Johnny strictly professional.

“No, thank you, Utah,” you responded as you finished up your meticulous stitching, wrapping the inflicted area with a bandage afterwards. “I think we’re all done here. I’ll have you brought over to imaging and get your wrist checked out.”

Johnny gave you a short nod while you peeled off your used gloves and tossed them in the bin. For a minute or two, you watched in silence as he inspected your handiwork. Seemingly satisfied, his attention reverted back to you, flashing a cheeky grin at the same time.

“I don’t do it on purpose, by the way,” he noted, pushing himself off the edge of the bed before standing close to you. You could feel Johnny’s warm breath against your skin as you glanced up, locking gazes once again. “I don’t get hurt just so that I could see you. I guess it’s one of the perks that come with the job.”

“Sure it is,” you added incredulously. “Well, I’ve got rounds to do in a bit. You can wait here, and I’ll let the technician know that you need an x-ray.”

“Are you coming back?” Johnny wondered out loud.

“I’ll have Barbara bring you there,” came your response. “She’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“But is she as beautiful as you, angel?” He tilted his head to the side, amused by his own inquiry. “If she’s not, then I’m not going.”

You laughed, taking a step back from him. “Okay, it’s your choice, but I have to get back to work.”

Turning around to leave, Johnny’s uninjured hand suddenly reached out to grasp yours, causing you to look behind. A quick second passed, and you swore that there was a shift in the atmosphere. You couldn’t think of a proper word for it other than electrifying, and truth be told, it had left you confused. His unwavering gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you recognized the feeling as a sign that you were attracted to someone.

But this was Johnny you were dealing with. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you had thought that he was the worst. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. To him, you were probably just another pretty face that he wanted to sleep with and couldn’t take no for an answer.

“Desperation is not cute, Utah,” you stated as he pulled you towards him, your feet allowing it.

“I’m not desperate, I’m persistent. There’s a difference,” Johnny explained. His eyes drifting down to your mouth, quietly imagining how it would feel on his. “You know, I’m not going to give up on you that easily. Go ahead, play hard to get. But I can see it on your face—you like me, too.”

“Did you also manage to hit your head during the scuffle?” You raised a brow at Johnny, who shot you a faint smile. He then lifted your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly before gently lowering it down.

“I’ll see you around, darling,” he said sweetly, and you felt your heart skip a beat. With a small wave, you then made your exit, walking to the nurses’ station down the hall.

As you prepped for the last three hours of your shift, you couldn’t help but reflect on what had happened between you and Johnny. It was odd because for one moment, you had forgotten about all of the reasons why you weren’t interested in him. Instead, you could only think of how gentle his calloused hands were as he held you, and the strange spark you felt when your eyes met.

“Thinking about Agent Utah?” Barbara’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you tried to act naturally in front of the older woman. “Don’t even lie, hun. I knew that Utah would eventually get to you.”

“God, no,” you denied with a shake of your head. “How’s his hand?”

“Not too damaged, fortunately. But we did have a lovely conversation about you on our way up to imaging.”

You abruptly stood from your seat, almost stumbling backwards as Barbara giggled at your flustered reaction. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Of course, you don’t. You’ve always been a stubborn little thing, especially when it comes to Johnny. How many more hospital visits will the poor man have to make until you finally realize it?”

Narrowing your eyes, you stopped yourself from launching into one of your usual tirades about Utah, not having the energy to do so right now. Sinking back down on your chair, you exhaled heavily and did your best to forget about him for the rest of the night.

Go ahead, play hard to get. But I can see it on your face—you like me, too.

Johnny’s words echoed in your mind. You didn’t know how he got to that conclusion, and he couldn’t be further from the truth.

A crush on Utah? The mere thought of it was absurd.

.

.

.

But was it?

---

A week later, you found yourself sitting at a local dive bar after a particularly exhausting shift at the hospital. The place was as busy as it could be on a late Friday evening, and with a stiff drink in your hand, you tried to ignore the ruckus happening around you. Emptying your first glass of the night, you were about to call the bartender over when a man took a seat right next to you.

“What’s a nice lady like you doing in a dump like this?” The stranger asked, his breath reeking of cheap liquor.

“How original,” you said dryly, not even turning to look at him properly. You just wanted to be left alone in peace. Was it too much to ask?

The man simply brushed off your comment as he ordered two bottles of beer, not giving you the chance to ask the bartender for a refill. Huffing, you rolled your eyes at him as he tried making awkward conversation with you. You couldn’t have appeared any less interested at that moment, yet he was oblivious to the fact.

“Babe! I’m sorry I��m late.”

You whipped your head to the side and saw Johnny approaching you with a wide grin.

“Babe?” The stranger hissed, his face turning red once Johnny was standing near you, an arm draping behind your shoulder and pulling you close. “You didn’t mention that you were with someone.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Utah answered for you. “You shouldn’t be bothering women like that. Didn’t you see her face? You were boring her to death!”

“Johnny,” you chided him. “Enough.”

“Yeah, listen to the lady, Johnny,” the other man sneered. “You don’t look like you treat her right. I think she’s with the wrong person.”

“Dude, just please leave us alone,” you spoke, hoping that the situation would die down.

“Whatever,” he muttered as he got up and began walking away. “She ain’t worth it anyway.”

Johnny was ready to throw a punch when you quickly gripped the back of his shirt and held him back. “Stop, it’s okay.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled bitterly before his attention went back to you. “You alright?”

Nodding, you smiled a little at Johnny as you patted on the empty seat beside you. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for that. I was ready to walk out of the door until you showed up.”

“I’ve always had great timing,” he chortled, sitting down on the bar stool as the bartender came by to take his order. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, and—what would you like, babe?”

Babe. The word fell from his lips so effortlessly, and you froze for a second. You thought you would have scolded Johnny for calling you that by now. But as the two of you continued to gaze at each other, it never came.

“I’ll have a margarita this time,” you requested without glancing away from Utah. “Are you stalking me now?”

“What? No, I’m not,” he chuckled as the corners of your mouth curved slightly. “Honestly, I’m not. I was in the area and decided to get a drink.”

“Okay,” you responded, believing him. “How are your stitches?”

“Still intact. My wrist is also doing fine now that the swelling’s gone.”

“That’s great,” you pointed out. “I thought I was going to have to treat you if a bar fight were to erupt back there.”

Utah shrugged slightly. “I would have gone through with it if you hadn’t stopped me. No one should speak to you that way.”

“Thank you, I really appreciated your help, Utah. Perhaps I’ve been too tough on you.”

Johnny blushed as your drinks were set in front of you. Raising your glasses, you clinked them both together before you each took a sip from it. You had never imagined having drinks with Johnny, but now that you actually were, you thought that it was quite fun. You felt at ease, the stress and tension from today’s shift melting away.

You talked the entire night, sharing laughter here and there. You weren’t sure if it was solely the alcohol to blame, but you found yourself letting your walls down for Johnny, no longer feeling guarded around him.

And it was blissful.

The conversation flowed so smoothly between you two that you didn’t realize how much time had flown by. The more you learned about Johnny, the more you started to believe that he was a genuinely good guy. And if tonight was any indication, he truly cared about you. As you chatted, you wondered in the back of your head if Johnny had been right all along.

Maybe you did like him.

“So,” he said as he slid some money across the counter to pay your tab along with his. “About dinner?”

You giggled before hopping down from your seat. “You are a very persistent one, Agent Utah.”

“After tonight, you owe me one,” he remarked, moving near you to offer you his arm, which you gladly accepted.

Together, you exited out of the establishment, a soft and chilly breeze blowing through your hair. The streets were silent as you strolled down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. A part of you didn’t want the night to end yet since you were enjoying your time with Johnny.

“Surfing? The FBI paid you to learn how to surf?” you questioned him, approaching the steps leading up to your apartment building.

“Yeah, they did since I was undercover,” Johnny revealed as he halted, his hand still holding yours. “And before you ask, it turns out I’m pretty good at it. I should give you lessons one day.”

“One day,” you repeated as you felt him squeeze your hand. Nearly a full minute went by before you cleared your throat. “Well, um, I should really get going. I don’t want to keep you for too long.”

Johnny released a light chuckle, the butterflies immediately fluttering inside your stomach at the sound of it. Feeling bold, you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before you let go of his hand. He gave you another one of his charming smiles, causing your heart race.

“Until next time, sweetheart,” he grinned as he watched you head up the stairs, only to stop when you reached the last step.

“Hey, Utah,” you called out. “I’m free tomorrow night if you still want to have dinner.”

“I’d have to check my calendar,” Johnny quipped, and you pretended to look annoyed. “I’m just teasing you. Of course, I would love to have dinner. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds great,” you agreed, waving goodbye to him one last time before walking up to your door, a smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny Utah was an overconfident, cocky bastard, but not anymore. Not after tonight.

Not when you were finally his.

[justpeachythoughts0916]

Grieving & My Grieving Journey...So Far...

February 2nd, 2021: When I was growing up the only grief I truly felt was the loss of grandparents and pets. The only grief I experienced firsthand all made sense to me, people who followed the order of life you get older, you get sicker, and then die.  At that point and in those instances it wasn't hard for me to utilize logic and reason to understand their lives were lived and their time here had expired.

In high school I witnessed the school, my friends, and my classmates just in shambles after two boys died in two separate car accidents. These deaths caused me to feel an overwhelming amount of empathy and sympathy for my sad friends, but I wasn't close enough to these two to grieve really. I felt bad for everyone feeling so bad and knew a generic "I'm sorry" simply would not suffice.  I still knew there was nothing on this planet that I could say or do to heal that wound. I knew there was no making sense of these tragic deaths. Two happy, smiling, kind, young souls were gone. There is no making that okay.

Since high school this area is cursed with so many young deaths. We've lost people to suicides, accidents, overdoses, the list goes on. Still, I remained in the helpful, supportive friend role. I was not the one with my world upside down, and truthfully at the time I was grateful. Watching people so sad from grieving was heart breaking enough.

When I was 20 and pregnant with my first son we had a gender reveal party, we were ecstatic, my family never had boys. We had people stay the night in a tent in my mom's backyard because we in no way wanted anyone to drive home drunk. My friends at the time partied until morning, then all four went to sleep in a little four person tent.

I woke up at tenish, my mom made French toast for breakfast for everyone, then left for a matinee with her friend. One by one my hungover friends started coming in for breakfast. My son's soon to be God Father came in and said "Nate snored so loud, he shook my pillow" I replied, "He was cocked, and passed out" and giggled at the thought of their shenanigans. My step-dad and sister and his best friend were just watching the Sunday Giants game, casually cracking their first beer around noon. 

My friends were about ready to go, trying to figure out how to make the six people fit in a five person car. Nate wasn't up yet, not shocked, it was only 1:00 pm. He was sleeping on his tummy, using his arm as a pillow. I started to wake him up saying "Nate...Nate...Nate..." giggly and patient. I tickled his feet and he didn't move, he was just sleeping heavy. "Nate...Nate...Nate..." I pushed my fingertips into the soles of his feet and they stayed. I instantly said "He's dehydrated, and retaining fluid, get him water." Still not panicking...I stared at his back looking for breath movement before I thought "I'll just yank him by the ankles, that'd wake anyone up." So, I did just that...nothing. I went to look at him and saw purple skin through his red hairline and ran to get an adultier adult, my step-dad.

I ran into the house, where they were all watching a seemingly compelling play during the game, bursted in and yelled "Nate's blue, he won't wake up, I don't think he's breathing!" I've never seen my 6' 8" step-dad move so fast. He ran outside, ducked in and looked in the tent for about .1 seconds before he said "Steph, you need to call 911 now!" at 1:06 pm I picked up Nate's phone (it was the closest in reach) and tried to give a bunch of information to a dispatcher. I made little to no sense, because my step-dad didn't tell me why I was calling 911, combined with anxiety, I wasn't able to give them my mom's address. My younger sister tried to take the phone from me but the dispatcher asked "Can anyone there do CPR?" We all could, why didn't I think of that? I handed the phone off to my sister, and ran back to my step-dad and all my friends just shaking their heads and said "WE CAN DO CPR!" My step-dad as calmly and level as he could said "We can't save him, Steph, he's gone."

My. Soul. Left. My. Body.

My legs just stopped working.

Draped in my step-dads arms.

He's 6' 8" standing next to him I'm chest height.

I was down to his stomach.

Sobbing.

Drooling.

Quickly I ran away from his embrace screaming "NO. NO. NO. NO", into the road screaming up it "WHATS TAKING THEM SO LONG?!"

In that instant for the first time, it was me. I was the one with the dead best friend. Begging cops "Let me go with you to his Mom, her whole world is upside down here, and you're gonna tell her that with a straight face, just take me to tell her." Of course, I was informed protocol exists, and that couldn't happen. The second Nate's death hit social media I was the one flooded with "Oh my god, what happened?" "I'm so sorry" "My condolences" blah blah fucking blah.

My best friend's heart stopped to due to a lethal combination of Xanax and alcohol. Nothing about life or death made sense anymore. My best friend died from partying too hard? How do you make sense of that? When we all went to his services we stood in a circle together. Everyone stared, everyone, we were the last ones with him. We were trying to process what was about to happen at the viewing and we heard "That's them." The services were a nightmare. My friend Bryan and I were first to walk in, and the second we saw his bright red hair in that white casket we both couldn't stand. We stopped the line, and I sobbed and said "We can't do this." We went in the room with his twin sister and mom, we offered his sister his aviator sunglasses that were left in the tent, and we offered his mom to go to her favorite local ice cream parlor on Mothers Day every year, a tradition Nate followed with her. I asked Nate's mom permission to name my son Nathan when we went to see her the day after he died, so I tucked an ultrasound of his namesake in his pocket, and a pack of cigarettes with his lucky flipped. We stayed through the whole viewing, saw all those sad broken faces, got all the sad and sorry hugs, at the end we all walked up together I kissed his forehead, and we left.

I spent the first threeish years of my new life without Nate crying occasionally or at appropriate times, like when I gave birth to my Nathan. The rest of the time I kinda carried on like mentally him and I were taking a break from eachother, like I myself was choosing not to message or call. I got into therapy after hearing countless "You need helps" from family and friends. In therapy, I was cautioned that this event gave me Complex PTSD and Complex Grieving. Still, I just kept going with the flashbacks, nightmares, and the stages of grief over and over. Three years in, I had a startling realization using a butt fuck of psychedelics of "Oh my God, my person is gone, I can't get him back, we can't talk, and that really happened." Instantly, I was grieving his death like new again. Oh no. I had less than understanding from most people. Most people honestly seemed perplexed how it could feel so fresh after "so many years" *eyeroll to my spine*. Solely because me being pained and honest with it is/was uncomfortable. OOOF.

I knew Nate taught me so much in his life and in his death. He also was the first to teach me how to help people in early grief, because of how many conversations I had that were text book This Is Not What You Say To Someone Grieving. Then again, we're all different.

Just before the 4 year mark with Nate's death, death found me again and again, it followed the people I loved. My honest theory is I saw death up close and personal, I know what that type of empty feels like, I was the one sobbing pounding the ground, mad at the world, so I noticed the devastation easier. I became the support system for my grieving friends, all by just being honest from the get, "Welcome to the club you don't want to be in, you still have to try to eat, you're never gonna be the same and there is nothing you can say to me that sounds crazy coming from the girl who has screamed in the cemetery at 2:00 AM "OVER A FUCKING XANAX?!" and unfortunately this club doesn't come with t-shirts it comes with trauma." It's simple to me, really. Act like they have a cancer on their brain with out being so in-your-face-it-feels-fake. Easy. I've helped countless freshly grieving people in the years after Nate's death.

  In October of 2020 I was talking to Zack, my middle school best friend on the phone, I needed help. He couldn't help me, as he was in legal trouble and needed to lay low. We caught up for a while, aside from what I needed help with. At one point he said "I wish Squid was here, he would've been down in a heartbeat." Squid passed in February of 2020. We talked at length about being more careful with ourselves, the worries we had about our other friends, and what grieving is like. Then he said, "I don't know how much closer death can get to me than Squid, he was my boy, it broke me." I just said  "I miss that boy so much, he was so warm." Zack went on to say "I don't wanna know which one of us is gonna go first, I don't wanna be the one left." We gave eachother all of our love, and hung up.

  On November 19th, 2020 Zack and another friend of ours from middle school, Alex, were headed home from Alex's band practice late at night. Alex was driving when he lost control of the vehicle. They both died on impact, together. It killed me. They died just riding home? The messages flooded in again. "I'm so sorry" "If you need anything, I'm here" as disingenuous as you could be really be. Again, I'm the one with the dead friends. Feeling emptiness in my finger tips. I hated everything, again.

  "If everything happens for a reason, than what the fuck?"

"Why them? Why me?"

Despair

When I laid in my boyfriend's bed staring at where the white ceiling met the lavender walls with silent tears streaming down my face I felt empty in my bones. I went outside, lit a cigarette, and called my soul brother, Alec. Al is traditionally a goof ball, but in sad times he has a way with comforting people. He's an absolute doll. I knew I needed to hear his voice and his words. When we spoke I cried and said all the awful initial thoughts, "How am I the one left? I didn't wanna do that. What do I do?" After I got those thoughts out we had a talk that would forever change my views on loss and grief. He said "All of these losses teach us something. Losing Squid taught me that I needed, wanted, and could have a healthy supportive friendship with Alison (his ex-wife, my best friend)." Alison drove up from Georgia to support me, Alec, all of our people, and grieve herself with her people. The hug they shared outside of the funeral home looked cathartic on a soulful level to me. They were who eachother needed to have in that sad and vulnerable time, even after their separation. To that I said, "I still don't get the fucking point."

That's when Alec said something I'll never forget. First, he quoted Carl Sagan in Cosmos, "We're all just a blue dot." Made zero sense, as I had yet to read all of Cosmos, and Alec already had (more than once). He then said, "People's love for you is eternal, regardless of when their physical being dies. Every lesson they taught someone will permanently imprint them, transferring person to person, generation to generation. Zack's love, Squid's Love, Alex's love, Nate's love, everyone's love is eternal as long as your soul learned things from them." I started crying hard. We gradually caught up and got ready to hang up and he said "Stephanie, you will have my love eternally, in this life and in the next, even if my physical being dies you will always have love from an Al"

  I had to process those words for weeks, thinking of every act of love, every admirable thing, every moment I witnessed that all my seemingly lost humans gave me, and what changed in me because of those moments. All of these souls filled up books in my mind, heart, and soul. They taught me how to be a happier better me, and they all loved me so much. These acts of love transferred onto my family, my friends, my kids, my relationship, hell, even strangers. Alec was right, my humans didn't die at all, and the more I looked the more I found glimpses of their love here, with me, no matter where they are. They literally cannot die, and there's no choice in the matter, it just happens.

I still have sad days and moments, but I know the saddest moments for me are also the most loving acts they gave me coming to surface...They are still with me to make those moments possible. You cannot change grief. It is a wild bull you just got onto, and you have to hold on tight and dig your spurs in for the rest of your life. The only thing that has calmed the immense pain I've felt was allowing these amazing humans to permanently imprint their best moments onto me. I'm forever grateful I had the privilege to be imprinted by so many angelic souls. All these seemingly small, miniscule moments created the most love in my soul. I'm here to learn, and I've been taught by the best of the best. Their deaths were not in vein, their deaths have all changed me. I sincerely hope this makes you consider how many souls have imprinted on you in life and in death, allowing seemingly impossible eternal love into your heart and soul.

XOXO

"I'm sure there ain't a Heaven, but that don't mean I don't like to picture you there. I bet you're bumming cigarettes off saints, and I'm sure you're still singing, but I'll bet that you're still just a bit out of key." Cigarettes and Saints by The Wonder Years

Dedicated to:

Nathan E. Osgood Sami Jo Colson Zaccaria "Squid" Crankshaw Ally LaMont Ryan Burton Zack Luck & Alexander Simon

I'll miss you everyday for the rest of my life, and will carry your eternal love wherever I may go.

Finally, thank you, to the first responders of Mayfield, NY that were first on scene when Nate passed away on September 20th, 2015

[babbushka]

Mind & Soul (2/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

(Word count: 3.7k ; Warnings: Infidelity, Affairs/Cheating, Angst, N*FW)

I'm A Fool To Want You

I'm A Fool To Want You

To Want A Love That Can't Be True

A Love That's There

For Others Too

 He can tell that he’s dreaming, somehow. In that way that you know you’re not awake because everything is far too floaty, intangible. He knows, because he’s at the house, just walking through the door. He’s got a briefcase in one hand, and his coat draped over his arm. He can’t remember the last time he did that in real life, so this must be a dream.

He knows what dream this is. It’s a memory.

He knows because Nicole is sitting on the couch when he comes through the door, he knows because he remembers how tired she looked, her eyes rimmed red from crying. He hasn’t seen her cry in a long time, but he remembers this.

“Charlie.” Nicole says, and it stuns him.

He feels the fresh hurt from the dream and the familiar hurt from the memory at the same time, like he’s two people trapped in one, memory-Charlie and present-day Charlie. He knows what’s coming but he can’t stop it from happening.

He doesn’t want to.

“Oh.” He hears himself say, “You remember my name.”

And in hindsight that’s a shitty thing to say, it’s just another reason, he knows that now. But at the time he hadn’t cared. He’s still not sure he cares.

“I’m leaving you.” Nicole takes a deep breath but when she speaks it’s resolute. When she speaks it’s with a finality she never had before. Charlie doesn’t believe it, even though really, deep down, he knew this was coming.

He knew, of course he knew.

“What do you mean?” He asks anyway, because he needs to hear it. Memory-Charlie needs to hear it.

Present-Charlie has heard it enough.

Nicole stands then, she paces the room for a moment before coming to stand right in the center of it, like she’s on stage. She has a monologue, a script she’s concocted just for this. Charlie’s heard it a thousand times in these dreams, but each time it feels less and less real, each time it makes his blood boil more and more.

“I mean I’m leaving you, Charlie. I can’t live here anymore – I won’t do it. These past nine years have been hell, they’ve been torture. You cannot change my mind, and I don’t want you to try. I don’t want to live in New York anymore and I haven’t for a while. I’m doing something for myself for once, and I’m leaving you. I paid the bills from the checking account and canceled my credit cards, and I have an apartment in Los Angeles where I’m flying tonight.”

She’s staring at him hard, and he doesn’t know when the hot tears started to sting his eyes, but he can feel them now, feels them slip just past his tear-ducts and onto his cheek.

“No you’re not.” He hears himself say, but even then he knows how hollow it is, how empty.

“My keys are in the dish by the door and the bags are packed.” Nicole replies, and he can feel the familiar spike of panic deep in his chest. 

It’s enough to almost wake him, enough to almost have him bolting upright, but the dream’s got too tight of a hold on him, and he wonders if he can get sick in a memory.

“Whose bags?” He asks, and even then, time seems to stand still.

It’s frozen when she looks away from him – a coward.

“My bags.” She says, whispers, too soft he almost can’t hear it, “Just my bags.”

And the realization of that hits him like a ton of bricks, it hits him like a running train, like he’s just slammed into one of Wile E. Coyote’s painted murals.

She’s leaving him, yes, but it’s not just him she’s leaving.

They stare at one another, and Charlie has to sit down, afraid his legs are going to give out on him, suddenly terrified, and impossibly angry.

“What did you tell him?” He asks, and this is the part that Charlie hates the most, from the memory.

This is the part that has him and his lawyers all in a fucking uproar, this is the part where he realizes he has no idea who the fuck he married, no idea who he spent so much fucking time with. This is where he looks his wife in the eyes and she looks back up and him and with the cold hard stare of a woman who no longer has love in her heart says:

“Nothing.”

And he nods, then, nods because of course she didn’t, of course. That’s so on brand, just like her, to not want to say anything, to want to vanish without a trace. 

And she calls him selfish?

“What am I going to tell him when he wakes up and asks where you are?” He asks, because all he’s left with is questions, the who what when where – why? Why why why?

Nicole is already walking out of the living room then, into the bedroom where she reappears with her suitcase in hand. She doesn’t look like she’s crying anymore, doesn’t look like she’s anything. She’s leaving.

“You’re a smart man, Charlie. You’ll figure something out.” She says as she brushes past him, and he panics, chases after her.

“Okay no, no you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to fucking do this!” He shouts, getting red in the face and crying fully now, crying because he can’t do anything else. “Get back here – god damn it Nicole you do not get to just walk away from this like you do with everything else! You don’t get to fucking do that!”

He’s yelling, and he knows he’s being loud, and even then he’s wincing, but he can’t just sit idly by while he watches this woman ruin his life, ruin their son’s life.

“I am sick and fucking tired of you telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m tired of it, Charlie!” Nicole says, and Charlie laughs.

He knows now that was shitty too, he knows. But still, he laughs, spreads his arms wide.

“I don’t give a shit! I don’t care if you’re tired, I don’t care.” He watches a taxi pull up, and suddenly he feels very cold, he feels like a bucket of ice has been dumped down his back. “You cannot leave your son like this, like a coward in the middle of the night. You don’t get to.”

“Well I am.” She says as she gets into the back of the cab.

When she slams the door shut, he wakes up.

 I'm A Fool To Hold You

Such A Fool To Hold You

To Seek A Kiss Not Mine Alone

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

 It takes him a minute to realize where he is, once he’s awake. He’s startled, blinking against the white light that comes in through the sheer curtains on the windows. They’re not any curtains he recognizes, except then he does, and when he does he sighs with relief enough to wake you up.

He thanks whatever powers there might be, that it’s you he wakes up to.

You stretch and make soft noises in the back of your throat as your eyes shut tight against the light that he’s basking in, hum out a happy sound when he lets his hand smooth against your shoulder.

“Good morning.” You say, mumble, mostly into his chest. He likes that you do that, that you press a kiss to his heart on the mornings you get to spend together.

“We have to leave soon.” He says back, but he says it with a smile.

You’re too understanding, he thinks, when you smile back.

“Alright, I’ll go first?” You ask, before sitting up and settling across him, straddling him.

You’re so incredibly beautiful, he thinks, skin warm and soft with your hair looking a hot mess from sleep, knotted and tangled from his own fingers.

“We can go together.” Charlie says, hands sliding up your body to hold your tits, give them a playful squeeze.

You laugh just a little, lean down to kiss him, and before you know it he’s got his arms around you, holding you tight. He can feel your sad sigh, and it kills him.

“I wish I could go with you, today.” You murmur, a harsh reminder of the hearing later that day.

They’re starting the custody battle now. Everything else has been settled, the properties, the finances. Everything has been settled except for Henry. Charlie isn’t going to give him up, and Nicole is suing him for that.

As if she has any claim on him.

Everything has been so fucking nasty, and he knows that this is going to be no different. He knows.

“No, I don’t want you to hear the shit we say.” He says, and you nod, you understand.

Charlie will tell you anyway later, he knows he will. But there’s something too painful about you hearing it all firsthand, he wants to spare you that.

“Where’s Henry?” You ask, and he pets your hair back with a groan.

“With Nicole’s mom.” He replies, and he knows that you know that that’s shitty.

“Hmm.” Is all you say, and he sighs.

“I fucking hate it – she keeps looking at me like I’m losing. Like I’m going to lose him.” He clenches his jaw, can feel his chin wobbling, and you can feel it too, can feel how he’s gearing up for a meltdown, a breakdown. He’s not breaking down. Not yet.

“You won’t.” You pull back just enough to look him in the eye, and there’s something in the way that you’re so sure of it, that makes him laugh wetly.

“I know. I can’t.” He says, heart thudding deep in his chest when he admits for the first time, “He’s all I’ve got.”

“Charlie.” Your brow pinches in, and he hates it.

He hates her, for doing this to him, for doing this to everyone.

He knows he’s wrong for it, but that’s how he feels.

“I don’t have family, the way Nicole does. Henry’s all I’ve got.” He tries to explain – but how can he?

How can he explain how lonely he has always been, how Henry has been the one thing he can confidently say he did right? The one thing he’s been most proud of in his life? How can he explain to anyone, if he can’t even explain it to himself.

He doesn’t speak to his parents, doesn’t have brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles. He’s got no one, if he doesn’t have his son.

“You’ve got me.” You say, just like a mind-reader, because he’s convinced you are.

He looks at you then, and he’s terrified you’re lying to him, even though you’ve never lied to him before.

“Do I?” He asks, has to know. Even after a year of fucking you, of making love to you, after a year of stolen kisses and borrowed time, he has to know.

“Yeah, you do.” You cup his face, stare into his eyes deeply, and he swallows around the hard lump that forms there.

He kisses you, because he can, because no one will see you here, no one will see how he clings to you so desperately. No one but the pigeons that sit on the balcony railing just outside the hotel room, no one but the sun and the clouds and the reflection in the mirror across from the bed. He puts everything he has into that kiss, everything he can muster, to tell you that you have him too.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says, and he doesn’t, wishes he could stay wrapped up in those sheets, in that bubble with you forever.

“Me neither.” You reply, tuck his hair behind his ears, let yourself be manhandled underneath him, let your hands wander down down down his body, “But it’s almost nine.”

He looks at the digital alarm clock near the lamp on the side table, looks back at you.

“Check-out’s at eleven.” He says, and you grin, nod, open yourself for him.

 Time And Time Again I Said I'd Leave You

Time And Time Again I Went Away

Then There'd Come The Time When I Would Need You

And Once Again These Words I'd Have To Say

 Hours later he finds himself at the courthouse, walking through the door the same way he did in that dream, in that memory – briefcase in one hand, coat draped over his arm. Except this time it’s not to tell his wife that he’s just sold a big play, it’s to look her in the eyes and tell her she’s unfit to care for their child.

What a fucking trip.

She’s sitting there, on the plaintiff’s side, because she’s the one doing this to him, always has been. She’s always been the one fucking him over, screwing up his life, but refuses to admit it. She’s sitting there and he hates her, the way her hair is shorter than it was, how she put on a nice pant-suit to appear put together. Hates how hard he’s going to have to fight to prove that she isn’t.

She’s sitting there and he walks past her and he figures the least he can do is say hello. It’s more than she would ever do for him, he knows that now.

“Nicole.” He greets her, and she recoils as though she’s been slapped.

“Don’t talk to me.” She frowns, like that’s some given, like he’s violated some unspoken one-sided rule.

Nicole had a lot of those, he’s come to find.

“Can’t we at least be civil?” He asks, voice flat, low.

“No, we can’t.” She says, affronted, offended.

“Why not?” Charlie has to ask, because really, they’re in a courthouse – if there’s any place to be civil, it’s here.

But Nicole is having none of it, and the way she folds her arms across her chest and huffs in her seat makes Charlie grind his teeth together.

“Because fuck you, Charlie. That’s why.” She says soft enough that only he can hear, and he has to laugh to himself, just has to laugh.

“This is exactly the kind of shit I’m talking about, Nicole. This is exactly it.” He shakes his head, scratches the side of his nose as he walks past her to his side of the courtroom, empty save for them, lawyers chatting outside.

“What?” Nicole asks with such thick sarcasm that he almost doesn’t want to answer, but he does anyway, because one of them has to be decent, he figures.

He knows he’s not, not with the way he runs around with you, but he feels more decent than she does right now, and that’s what matters.

“You’re a spoiled brat who breezes through life thinking she can just do or say or act however she wants.” He puts it as simply as he can, and Nicole’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before they settle into a deep frown.

“You want to say that in front of the judge?” She asks, and he sucks his teeth, leg bouncing.

“Oh believe me, I will. Just maybe not in so many words.” He replies, and he can see the fear in her eyes, that maybe he’ll fuck her over for once.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She mutters, and he shrugs, filled with nothing but contempt for her now.

“You have no idea what I would do, to protect my son.” He says, not sure if it’s a threat or a promise. He’s not sure.

 I'm A Fool To Want You

Pity Me I Need You

I Know Its Wrong

It Must Be Wrong

But Right Or Wrong

I Can't Get Along Without You

Time And Time Again I Said I'd Leave You

Time And Time Again I Went Away

Then There'd Come The Time When I Would Need You

And Once Again These Words I'd Have To Say

 You have his number saved as something else, something inconspicuous, something no one would recognize as being him if they were to see it. It’s a different number, a new number, a number he got just for you.

“Just for us.” He said once upon a time, when he offered you a scrap of napkin in a crowded coffee shop with this secret scrawled on it in ballpoint pen.

It’s texting at first, because that’s easier than calling, it’s less of a risk, less of a chance someone might overhear. Your pulse jumps in your throat whenever you see one come through, eager to respond. You’re not in the mood to play hard to get, not with a man who you wanted so desperately, who was already impossible to have.

Impossible, but you take him anyway.

I hate lawyers. I’m thinking about you. Do you think about me too? He asks, always so serious – full sentences, which surprises you.

With how much he works, you’d think it’d all be shorthand. And maybe it is, but he likes to take his time with you, he’s serious about you.

You’re serious too.

I’m always thinking about you. You tell him back, because it’s true, and it’s lightning quick when he responds.

Show me?

And you do, tap the little yellow ghost, contort yourself to show off your curves, your angles. You know he’s waiting for it, know he’s tucked away in a corner somewhere – probably somewhere in the courthouse where he just finished arguing and proving his case for what feels like the hundredth time – with his hand down his pants, hungry for the snaps you send him, for any hint of your skin.

He can’t keep them, as much as he wants to, has to let them disappear. He hates it, but he knows you’ll send him more. He sends you some back, tries to make them appealing, but mostly fails. Charlie doesn’t care much about angles, doesn’t care much for the performance of it all. He’s had too much of that in his life, performance.

He’s never had too much of you, though.

He calls you, then.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He moans, already breathy, “Thank you.”

He always thanks you, like this is some great gift you’re bestowing upon him, and your blood boils that he has to ask at all, that she holds back from him all the fucking time.

“I miss you, miss your hands on me.” You say, voice low, rolling over in your bed.

It’s the middle of the day, a stolen nap interrupted. You didn’t mind much.

“Touch yourself? Don’t let me be alone.” Charlie pleads, and you’re eager to do what he says, what he wants.

You let your hand fall down between your legs, let yourself moan into your phone. You put it on speaker, have it propped up on your stomach so your other hand can clasp around your throat, so you can pretend it’s his for a while.

He curses lowly, and if you listen carefully you can hear the sound of fabric rustling, can hear the way he’s breathing in short pants as he gets himself off to the sound of you. It’s echoey, like he’s in a bathroom, or a stairwell, you can’t tell.

It doesn’t matter, you gasp for him, spur him on.

“You could come over, come see me.” You suggest, eyes shut tight as you picture him really above you, his fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy instead of your own. Yours aren’t as satisfying as his are, you need him.

“Fuck – okay, okay I will.” He surprises you, making you still for a moment.

“You will?” You ask seriously, eyes opening and staring up at the ceiling in your empty bedroom, wishing it was that little hotel room instead.

“Of course, all you have to do is ask.” Charlie says, and suddenly he’s serious too, and you wonder where he is, what he’s staring at.

“Don’t say that.” You moan, your fingers toying with your clit, resuming their work to get you worked up up up, eyes shutting again.

“Why not?” He demands, like he’s pained, like he’s angry, and you can’t help but smile, whine into the phone.

“Because I’ll ask every day.” You’re getting close, but you mean it, and he moans lowly when he knows you mean it too.

“Then I’ll come every day.” He says, and you yelp against your own touch, and you can hear him grunting, wish that you could be the one to touch him, to have him touch you, touching together forever.

“You’ll come? Please Charlie, please tell me you’ll come.” You beg, voice high, loud, not caring anymore – it’s not like anyone can hear, no one can hear. You’re safe within these four walls, and soon you’ll be safe together.

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie grits his teeth as he does, has to block it with his palm, has to thunk his head back against the wall of the stairwell, has to try his damnest not to make too much noise, knowing how it would echo up up up the walls, out into the lobby of the courthouse where too many people are completely oblivious to him, to you.

You can hear his breathing on the other line, hear the way it gets crushed through the receiver. He must not be in a place with great signal.

But that’s okay because soon, soon he’ll be with you, and he won’t need his phone at all.

 I'm A Fool To Want You

Pity Me I Need You

I Know Its Wrong

It Must Be Wrong

But Right Or Wrong

I Can't Get Along Without You

----------

Tagging some pals! As always please let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off the list :) xx  @driverficarchive    @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @solotriplets @tinyplanet-explorers @candycanes19 @callmehopeless @kylo-renne xsister-serpent @girlyisthatweirdkid phoebewalker04 @stylelovechild @formerly-anonhamster  @magikevalynn

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Coffee and a Wedding (Chapter 12- The End)

Here we are Loves, we've reached the end. I'd like to just take a moment to say Thank You to everyone. Thank You to the long time readers who have jumped with be between characters. Thank You to the new readers who I've watched discover my older works while waiting on updates. Thank You to the new readers whom I may never see again.

This series has been a adventure and I want to thank everyone for going on it with me. It was a adventure in playing with a new writing style, playing with a new type of story. And to think, it all started with the idea of a trope filled on shot for two friends’ birthdays.

There is always something bitter sweet to me about a series ending and with the end of the year near, I find myself looking back at how far I've come. I've finished Silent Song this year. I started and finished Clover and Lace. I finished The Things You Find (In The Rain). And now, I've finished Coffee and a Wedding as well.

I want to thank everyone who donated to the Kofi or cheered me on while I raised funds to go to NYC for my birthday. I want to thank @winterisakiller and @tnystrk-exe who supplied so very many tropes to this tropefest.

Here it is- a special Monday night treat. Chapter 12, about nine hours early. 

Masterlist

Chapter 12:

Morning came with a pounding headache and too bright sun. I couldn’t think and I wanted to drink the whole of the ocean, salt be damned. But that would mean moving and moving was something I didn’t want to do. Moving was going to hurt in so many different ways. I swear to God, I am never going to drink again. Not a drop. But that’s what everyone says when confronted with a hangover, right?

Speaking of hurting, everything ached. I fought to right my brain through the fog of the hangover and sleep. I was beyond comfortable, at least I had that much going for me. I was naked, I realized, and pressed against Clint. He was also naked.  

His arms were draped around me. My head rested on his chest and shifted slightly with every deep breath he took. The room smelled of stale air and sex. I could feel the dried evidence of the night before on my thighs but my mind couldn’t wrap around what that meant at the moment. Though I knew it was something.

My leg was hooked over his, bent and riding up his thigh. I could feel him resting against it. My hand rested on his chest and even though I was still foggy at best, I couldn’t resist the urge to run my hand over the muscles. One of Clint’s hands rested low on my hip and the other wrapped around my rib cage. His thumb rested under the swell of my breast.  

I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay here forever and never face reality again. But that wasn’t an option. The game was coming to a close. Once we got on the plane today, it was all over. He would go back to only being my boss. I would go back to only being an employee. And I’d be okay with that, somehow. I had to be okay with that, somehow.  

This shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let this happen. It was a mistake. I untangled myself from the sheets and Clint’s arms. He groaned and shifted, throwing his arm over his eyes.  

“It’s not morning yet.” He whined. “Come back.”  

“Need to shower.” I grumbled, “Go back to sleep.”

I looked passively around the room after slipping on Clint’s shirt. Something to cover myself was better than nothing. The bottle of wine was never even opened. The dress Clint had spent so much money on was in a crumpled heap on the floor along with his suit. His blazer was wet, having soaked up the ice from the bucket as it melted overnight.

After grabbing a change of clothes, I slipped into the bathroom. I’d not seen anything in the trashcan in the lobby and the trashcan in here was empty too. It dawned on me how stupid we were. That’s what I felt dried on my thighs.  

Did we talk about it? I couldn’t remember but that didn’t mean we didn’t. It also didn’t mean that we did. Would it be rude to ask now? Was it too late? I mean, let’s be real- Clint’s too responsible to have anything?

I cranked the shower on and used the hot water to wash away as much of my worries as I could. I wasn’t worried about a pregnancy- I had gotten a IUD a few years prior but still. By the time I was out of the shower, I had decided not to worry about things. I felt pretty sure that Clint wouldn’t have given me anything, he was generally responsible, right? I mean, sure this was his mistake as much as mine but still.  

By the time I finished washing and dried, Clint had pulled himself out of the bed. He was making coffee in nothing but a pair of shorts when I came out. I had all my things from the bathroom balanced on a towel.  

“Coffee’s hot.”  

“Thanks. Shower’s free.” I said as if it wasn’t obvious.  

“Thanks, Babe.” I ignored him and shoved my few toiletries into the clear travel bag. Of course, Clint noticed and asked, “You okay?”

“Fine. Just tired. Not looking forward to the flight.” I lied.  

“Yeah- I could sleep for a year.” Clint nodded only to groan and rub his head. “Here.” He handed me a cup of coffee, doctored to my liking and smiled at me with warmth in his eyes. “I’ll jump in the shower. Check out is in almost two hours.”

“Right. I’ll get packing.”  

~~~~~<3

With a hangover between us, there was a blessed silence while we rode in the taxi. He listened as I talked, worked my way through idea after idea as to how I would tell my family that our fake relationship ended.  

“I could just tell them that everyone put too much pressure on us.” I decided. “Too much judgment. Too many snide comments. Questions.” I decided. Sometimes simple was better and honestly, if we had a real relationship during this trip it would be a fair reason for it to end. It was hard to ignore all the wonderful things Clint had said when he defended me.

“Okay.” He said.  

After a few minutes of silently chewing at my lip, I gave up. “Thank you.” I said. “For putting up with it. For all the drama, trouble. For Matt. You’re almost off the hook and I promise I won’t put you in this position again.”

“I could,” He softly spoke. “put up with it. I mean, for longer.”

“But you don’t have to.” I laughed though I wanted to cry. “Lucky you.”

“And if I wanted too?” I wasn’t sure if I heard him right. I mean, what did that even mean?

“We need to go.” I said instead when the taxi came to a stop. I could see mom getting out of the taxi a few cars in front of us. I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I wanted to get home and cry.  

There was a crack of thunder as Clint opened the taxi door. As I put my foot on the asphalt, the sky opened up. Torrential rains fell from the sky. Yep, that was how my day was going to go.

Clint wrestled the bags out of the trunk and made quick work of checking them in at the curbside baggage drop. I hardly made it out of the cab before he was offering me his hand with a bright smile. In the distance behind him, I could see more and Kurt making their way inside the airport. They looked as tired as I felt. I didn’t think they were paying us any attention.  

Still, Clint wasn’t one to take a chance. He pulled me to him and we danced, spinning in the rain. My clothes and hair were quickly soaking up the water, as was his but he didn’t seem to care.  

It took a bit for me to give in. But after a few dips, twists and turns he had be smiling at him. I couldn’t help laughing as people watched him pull me into a kiss.  

“Get a room.” Someone shouted and I realized it was Kurt.  

I had no idea when he and Mom made their way back outside the airport but at some point they did. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from Clint. He didn’t let go of my hand though. I guess the act was back on.  

“I’ll call when we get back to the city.” I promised though I knew already that I was more likely going to text them and call it good enough.

“You better.” Mom demanded.

~~~~~<3

I was beyond glad to get off the airplane. The moment we took off, I focused on trying to sleep. Clint seemed to do the same and both of us dozed most of the long flight. Now that we had our bags and my legs were moving, I felt much better. My head was clearer and my heart heavier.

“About last night.” Clint blurted out as we walked by a Starbucks in the airport. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to acknowledge this. I didn’t want to give voice to the demon for fear I’d make it real. But he had to go and bring it up.  

“It’s fine.” I said, putting on the bravest face I had. “I’m going to go grab a taxi and get home. I’ll see you Monday?”  

“Wait a second?” Clint looked between the cafe and me. I smiled and shook my head. “We should talk about it- I mean we-”

“No, it’s fine. We were drunk. It’s whatever. And… I think I want to be alone for a little bit. I haven’t been since we left for the trip, you know?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’ll see you Monday.” I smiled as bright as I could and walked away with a wave.  

When Clint didn’t follow me, I breathed a heavy breath. It took everything I had to hold myself together. I could close my eyes and still see the weight of everything as it settled on his shoulders. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to carry with him knowing that he got drunk and had sex with his college age employee. He deserved better than that. He was a good man and a good boss.  

“Wait!” Clint’s voice had the amazing ability to carry over distances.  

I hadn’t thought anything of the sound of running feet- people run in airports. His voice was what made me turn and look. He skidded to a stop in front of me, no coffee in his hands.  

“What, Clint?”

“I like you.” He blurted out. “Maybe could even love you.”  

“Stop.” It was hard to keep from yelling. His mouth snapped shut. “I am tired. You’re tired. We just spent a whole trip pretending to be in love. We got drunk and had sex. It’s fine. Yeah, I’m young but I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Don’t worry. Just- go home and rest before you feel pressured into making promises or say things you don’t mean.”

“What?” He looked deflated. I told myself it was just that he was tired. He was wound up, thinking he had to do something- to be something for me because the night before.  

I said, “I’ll see you Monday.” and turned.  

The heels of my boots echoed against the tiles. It felt like the airport was empty and that I was alone yet people moved all around us as I walked away. I didn’t dare to look back, not directly. Instead I used a window as I walked by. It was just reflective enough to see Clint standing where I left him, rooted in place and my heart broke. That was the instant I decided that I wouldn’t see him on Monday. I couldn’t do this. I thought I could but I cant.  

~~~~~<3

Somehow, I managed to make it home before breaking down. Even as tears dripped from my chin, I texted mom that we made it home just fine. I told her we had a blast on the trip. She told me of how Sarah had made a scene at the wedding not long after we left. She was wine drunk and screamed at the groomsmen. Matt had to take her back to the hotel room early.  

It turned out, Sarah had changed her flight and left not long after we were in the air. She was on a single ticket, leaving Matt behind on the island. What that meant for them or their future was anyone’s guess. While Mom held onto hope that they would work things out. She had hope that Sarah could still accomplish her dreams of going back to school with financial security, I had other ideas. I hoped that it meant that Sarah would file for an annulment and move far away from Matt.  

I spent the weekend unpacking. The dress Clint purchased was hung with care in my closet, still needing a trip to the dry cleaners. I hardly left the apartment except for running to the corner store for more wine, more chips and most importantly- ice cream. By the time classes resumed, I planned to not even fit into the cursed dress from the wedding. It wasn’t exactly a healthy coping method but it tasted good at least.

Monday morning came with much dread. I hadn’t heard from Clint all weekend but I hadn’t expected to… But I wanted to. I wanted him to blow up my phone. I wanted him to prove to me he cared. I wanted him to show me I was wrong. I wanted my fairy tale.  

But I’m not a child anymore. I don’t get fairy tales. I don’t get fairy tale endings. I get to get wine drunk before four in the afternoon. I get to ignore my phone all morning. I get to block the cafe’s number. I get to block the other supervisors.

By Wednesday morning and my third missed shift, Mr. Barton started calling. Then he texts, wanting to know if everything was alright. Did he do anything wrong? Was I sick? Did I need anything? Finally, he asked for me to just talk to him. I had to answer, somehow. I had to tell him something.  

“Mr. Barton, I quit.”  

I sent the text with my breath held. I watched with baited breath as the read receipt changed from ‘unread’ to ‘read’. The screen changed to reflect an incoming call from the last person I wanted to talk to. After rejecting the call, I made quick work of blocking the last connecting to Arrowhead cafe.

~~~~~<3

Somehow, I managed to survive until Saturday. I busied myself during my last free week before classes with looking for a new job. Nothing seemed right but I applied with as many positions as I could. I needed something.  

Outside, rain poured down in sheets and thunder cracked. Wind whistled down the street and between the buildings. Part of me wondered if power would hold out for the rest of the night. It wouldn’t be the first time this shitty apartment lost power due to a storm and it wouldn’t be the last.  

When the pounding started at my door, I almost jumped out of my skin. At first, I wasn’t going to answer. I was riding a nice buzz from the wine and had worked myself a nice sized crater into the tub of Chocolate ice cream I had been nibbling. When the pounding didn’t stop, I had no choice but to slip off the windowsill I had curled up in.  

I didn’t think about it what I was wearing as I walked to the door but god, I wish I did. All I knew was the pounding wasn’t stopping and it was almost one in the morning. I didn’t want to open the door without looking through the peep hole but then the last voice I ever wanted to hear came bellowing through the door.  

“Alexis!” No. No, not home. Go away. Maybe if I pretended to be asleep? “I just want to talk. To make sure you’re alright.”  

“I’m fine, Mr. Barton.” I tried so hard to sound fine too.  

“So I’m ‘Mr. Barton’ now?” He sounded tired and I wondered if it was my fault. Maybe he was having to work extra to pick up my slack. Maybe no one could pick up my shifts. It didn’t matter, though. “Let me in. Let’s talk.”

“Go home. There’s nothing to talk about.” I yelled through the door.

“I’ll stay out here all damn night then! Yelling. You’re neighbors are sure to notice. Maybe someone will call the cops. Want to see what happens?” Oh man, that was a low move. I scrunched my eyes closed and swallowed the urge to scream.  

Instead I yanked open the door and reached out, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him inside. The door slammed shut behind him. “That’s not fucking fair.”

“Do you ever wear pants at home?” Clint asked, looking at me than running his hand through his hair and looking away. Right. Boyshorts and a large tee. Why can’t I just be allowed to die. “Doesn’t matter.” He decided as I crossed my arms over my chest.  

“What do you want?” I snapped.  

“To know why you just up and quit!” He snapped back. “Everything was great and then we got back and you’re just-” He flung his hands out when he couldn’t find the word he wanted.  

“Fuck you.” I snarled.

“You did. Or rather. I fucked you and you just-”

“Yes. You fucked me! How could I go back to the cafe after that? Pretending like none of this happened?!”

“I asked if you were sure!” He snapped back before taking a calming breath and running his hands down his too pale face. “Look. We were drunk. I was drunk. But if you didn’t want to- you could have said ‘no’ and I would have stopped in a heartbeat. I’m not- I don’t want to be that kind of man. I never wanted to take advantage of you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted it.” I grumbled the words. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have but dammit I couldn’t let him think even for a moment that I hadn’t been on board with what was happening that night.  

“Then what’s the problem?!” Clint’s voice was climbing again.

“I didn’t plan on you going to the wedding. I didn’t plan on spending so much time with you. I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. I didn’t plan any of this, so leave. Just go so I can get over you in peace. Alright? I don’t need-”

“Look- I know you’re pissed off at me right now. I know I showed up unannounced and made a scene. But I think you just said ‘I didn’t plan to fall in love with you’ and I really need you to rewind.”

“I… wait- what?” I didn’t say that. I couldn’t have. Did I? Fucking wine and ice cream.

“Alexis- are you in love with me?” Clint stepped closer.  

“What? No. Why would I-?” I couldn’t find the words to properly dig myself out of this. “Look- I just didn’t want to make things hard for you, to put your reputation at risk or anything. It’s bad enough what you had to go through last week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” At least he wasn’t yelling anymore.

“Because I didn’t- You don’t feel the same way, you couldn’t- I’m me and you’re you. So why get hurt?”

“I don’t feel the same way?” Clint’s face was blank and I nodded. “Jesus Christ- I told you, I tried to tell you- what do I have to do to make you see?!” He snapped. So much for the yelling being done.  

“See what?!” I stomped my foot. How very adult of me.  

Clint reached out and snagged a hand around my waist. There was nothing I could do to stop myself from crashing into him. A hand tangled in my hair as he pushed his lips against mine. I was tense at first, unsure of what was happening.  

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the fact that this is what I’ve been wanting from the moment I got home but I eventually relaxed. The kiss turned soft and sweet as I ran my hands along his arms, up his chest and rested a hand against the side of his neck. Stubble scratched at my face and his breath fanned over me.  

“I love you too.” He whispered.

~~~~~<3

It’s been a few years now, and I still work at Arrowhead Coffee for a few hours on the weekends. The mornings where we opened the cafe together were some of my favorite times, even if he still occasionally flirted with the espresso machine. A girl can’t win every fight.  

The sun wasn’t even up yet but in an hour, it would start coloring the sky a little at a time. I still wasn’t really a morning person but this- this was worth it. I was surprised to see the cafe windows still dark. Clint normally at least had some lights on by now.  

As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t as dark as I thought. Inside the windows I could see little candles perched on each table. Firelight flickered and danced. Flowers were everywhere.  

When I slipped inside, I called for Clint. Soft music played over the speakers. I couldn’t help but laugh when he stepped out of the back. He was far overdressed with his smart suit for working in a cafe.  

“May I have this dance?” He asked as he drew closer.  

I realized, as I let myself be pulled along the flower petal covered floor that he was wearing the same suit he had worn that night, so long ago. I also realized that the flower petals were getting crushed, squished into the wood floor and that it wasn’t going to be fun to clean this up. Romantic gestures tended to be messy- they don’t show you that in the Lifetime Romcoms.  

The song came to an end and for a moment, Clint held me. There wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. I couldn’t imagine being in the arms of anyone else. This was paradise. This was heaven.  

Clint stepped back and smiled, it was that soft smile that hinted at his lips but danced in his eyes- that smile he so rarely used for anyone or anything but me. I could imagine someday, Clint giving a baby that same smile as he rocked a tiny bundle in his arms.  

He sank down to one knee, completely ignoring how flower petals would be worked into his slacks. Reaching into his blazer pocket, he pulled out a box. It wasn’t black but it was velvet- a deep royal purple that matched the colors of the cafe. My breath stuck in my throat as I covered my mouth with my hand. It was a gesture I had made fun of countless times in movies and yet here I was, standing in the candle light doing that exact thing.  

“Alexis.” His voice was thick and heavy. It reminded me of how he sounded when he woke in the morning. “I can’t begin to say how much you mean to me. I thought it fitting, since everything started here that this should hopefully start here too. I first saw you here and I was captivated by your smile. This is where our fake relationship started. This is where I fell in love with you- far before you knew it. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. I could only nod, before he even got the box open. I was nodding so much that I probably looked like a bobble head. It didn’t matter because I launched myself in his arms, knocking us both to the ground and the box sliding along the floor.  

I didn’t care about rings. He could marry me with a string. “Yes.” I finally choked out, “I’ll marry you.”

~~~~~<3

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[yungimmortals]

long drive | graves & miranda | part 1

date: friday, may 22, 2020

summary: two of the hermes siblings wake up at the crack of dawn for a road trip. final destination, myrtle beach. current location: somewhere on i-95 south.

“Hey! Monty! Let’s go!” Graves strolled into Cabin 11, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Loretta’s outside, doors are unlocked. Put your shit in the truck. Vamos, vamos! We got a long drive hermana.” He checked his watch as he dug through the fridge. 4:30. He closed the fridge, scooping up the food he’d gathered and dumping it rather unceremoniously into a bag. He snagged his water bottle from the counter and popped into his room to give it a once-over, making sure he had everything for the weekend. 

“Mira!” Graves called, after unloading more supplies into the truck. “We’re already behind schedule, andele.” He decided to forgo nicknames, his tone a little more serious than usual. “My mom’s cookin’ dinner tonight and we are not missin’ that!” Grave picked up his duffel bag and hooked the strap over his shoulder, seconds away from knocking on Miranda’s door.

Miranda opened her bedroom door, shuffling out of it with a few bags in tow.  "Okay, okay! Te escuché." She bent down to grab her magic bag, which was currently in its usual black backpack form, and threw it over her shoulder.  "Coño, don't remind me about the drive, I'm tired just thinking about it." She headed over towards the front door, pausing to slip on the flip flops she had left there before she finished packing. "Do you need me to bring anything out? Once I get to Loretta, I make zero promises that I'm coming back for you."

Graves shook his head, stepping back so she could pass. He made a shoo-ing motion with his hands in an attempt to usher her out the door. "Nah nah, she's already loaded up. I just need my-" he looked around the room, spotting the item and swiping it off the edge of the couch. "Hat, and now I have it. We're good to go. You're navigator and DJ, you know the drill." He put his hat on, turning it backwards. He gave the cabin one more cursory glance and closed the door behind them. "I hope Roz doesn't set the place on fire while we're gone." Graves hopped in the truck after loading in Miranda's bags and closed the door; he turned the key and the engine roared to life.

Miranda climbed up into the truck, dropped her backpack at her feet, and immediately started getting her phone connected to the stereo system Loretta had.  By the time Graves had finally joined her inside of the truck, she had already kicked her now bare feet up on the dash, and had her road trip playlist loaded and ready to go.  "Nah, we should be good, I didn't tell her what not to do, so it should be still standing when we get back.  I told Mace we were going to be gone, so maybe she'll swing by occasionally and check up on the place." She shrugged, ignoring the small part of her that was in fact worried about leaving her younger sister in charge of the cabin.  Once the engine started up, she turned on the radio to let her playlist start, leaning her head back into the seat as they started to drive.  The music filled the silence between them as they started getting onto the highway, and the farther they got from camp, the more excitement started to flutter inside of her. "I'm glad we're doing this, Gravy.  I didn't realize how badly I wanted to get out of that place."

He took the exit, as instructed by the GPS and looked over at Miranda. "Yeah, me too. I haven't been home since...I got here." It was weird to say out loud; now that he had, Graves' excitement doubled. "I can't wait for you to meet my mom. And Gran! And see the shop. And-" he cut himself off with a laugh. "I'm gettin' ahead of myself. This is gonna be fun as fuck."

Miranda nodded her head as he spoke, a smile appearing on her face at his very obvious excitement.  "Yeah, especially since you're such a momma's boy, and all." She teased, choosing to do that instead of thinking about the last time she had gone home herself.  She hated thinking about it, but the idea of going on an adventure to meet Graves' mom had her feeling a little on edge about the whole family topic.  Regardless, she plastered a smile on her face.  "I'm mainly in it for those fishbowls you showed me, but yeah I guess the rest of it is fine too."

"Hey, I have a great mom! Of course I'm a momma's boy. You'll love her too, wait and see." Graves bobbed his head along to the song Miranda had picked. He checked the time. 5:00. He was not awake enough for the drive ahead of them and decided that the first pit stop would be at a Starbucks. His ears perked up at 'fishbowls'. "Oh fuck yeah, Monty, you're gonna love Duffy's. Well- actually you might hate it, it's kind of a dive? But the fishbowls are fuckin' bomb and we can walk there from the house."

"Why the fuck would I hate it? I'm not an elitist or some shit. But I am very okay with being able to just walk down the street whenever I want a drink." Miranda rolled her eyes, shuffling in her seat a bit until she was comfortably situated while half facing her brother, then pulled a blanket out of her backpack and draped it over her legs.

Graves shook his head with a laugh. "We'll have to walk there every day then. It's like a ten minute walk to the main avenue and there's Duffy's and really good pizza and we can get ice cream at Sweetz and- I'm ramblin'. You have to wait and see." He looked over at Miranda as she got comfortable in the passenger seat. "You wanna nap for a bit? I'll wake you up at the next rest stop."

Miranda laughed as well, though hers was laced with exhaustion.  "You, ramble? Never, Manito.  But, as long as they have black raspberry then I am in for ice cream."  She curled up slightly in her seat, and smiled when she heard Graves' offer.  "Yeah, I didn't really sleep last night, so that would be awesome." They talked for another few minutes, Miranda's voice slowly getting quieter before her end of the conversation dropped altogether as she fell asleep.

~~~ 

The rest stop parking lot was packed, considering it wasn't even 9 AM. It took Graves two loops around the place before he found a parking spot. He cursed himself silently for forgetting about the holiday weekend as he turned the car off and gave Miranda's shoulder a shake. "Mont, wake up. We're in New Jersey." When she didn't stir, Graves tried another tactic. He shook her arm again, talking louder this time, "Hey, hermana, levántate! I'll buy you coffee. There's a Starbucks here." As his sister began to wake up, he hopped out of the truck and sent two quick texts: one to his mom, the other to Macey, updating them with the progress of their road trip.

Miranda let out a small groan when she felt her shoulder get shaken, adjusting herself so that she was away from the source of the movement.  When it returned, but stronger this time, she let out a louder whine, though it cut off when she heard 'coffee'.  It took her a minute to wake up enough to register where they were, then another three to stretch and climb out of the truck to join Graves in the parking lot.  "Oh gods, coffee. Yes, please."

Graves stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Okay, cariña. Let's make this quick, we still have nine hours to go. You grab breakfast, I'll grab the coffee?" He handed her a very wrinkled twenty dollar bill from his pocket then bumped her shoulder with his. "Meet you back here in five?"

Miranda looked down at the money he handed her, then back up at him and raised an eyebrow to silently ask him why this moment was happening.  Then she saw the look on his face, and the excitement in his eyes and decided not to say anything, instead pocketing the bill and following him towards the rest stop.  "Lo tienes. See you in five."  She started to walk, put turned around when she thought of something, but continued to walk backwards.  "Iced coffee!" Miranda turned back around and over to the food court.  The line made her take a little longer than five minutes, but roughly ten minutes later, she returned to the truck with two breakfast sandwiches in hand.

Graves was sitting in the driver's seat already, door open, his feet hanging out the side. The line for coffee had been much shorter than that for food and he'd beat Miranda back to the truck, taking the opportunity to check his texts. As she walked up to the car, he grabbed her iced coffee and handed it to her, eagerly trading for a sandwich. "Thank gods you're back. I'm starving to death, Mont. You ready to get back on the road?"

Climbing back into the truck, Miranda let out a huff. “I swear to gods, people are idiots. Someone was trying to get a vegan egg sandwich. At a rest stop. Like, where the fuck do they think they are, a gourmet coffee shop?” She rolled her eyes, exchanging food for a coffee and took a long sip. “But si, vamos, get me away from this place.”

He chuckled, waving his sandwich at her, "I assume this is not a vegan egg sandwich then?" Graves unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite before putting on his seat belt and turning the key in the ignition. "'This place' as in the rest stop? Or 'this place' as in New Jersey, armpit of America?" He joked before pulling out of their spot and getting back on the road.

Miranda laughed, returning her feet to the dash as he pulled back onto the highway.  "Sorry to disappoint you, I know how much you're dying to have something in common with 'tough guy' Brent." She teased, unwrapping her own sandwich and taking a bite out of it.  "I was going to say just the rest stop, but you know what, either one is fine by me at this point."

"Oh my gods, did Macey tell you about that?" Graves asked, indignant. He took another bite of his sandwich. "Brent is cool, and scary. Y'all stop makin' fun of me for bein' intimidated or I'm not talkin' to y'all about anything anymore." His eyes flashed to the GPS and he switched lanes before focusing back on the road. He repeated his earlier statement, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with his words, "Nine hours to go, hermana. Luckily, we'll be out of Jersey in about an hour. "

"No? I was just there after the first night of fight night.  Brent just said the same exact thing Macey and I had already said you practically fell over trying to get back to the cabin after that.  Though now I will be texting Macey." Miranda took another sip of coffee.  "Cool, I'll give you. Scary? Sorry, can't agree there, Gravy."  When he switched topics, she decided to ease up, considering he was driving and was honestly in complete control of her not getting lost while wandering around Myrtle Beach.  She started the process of connecting her phone back to the stereo to get the music playing again.  "That's not bad, Any requests for the DJ?"

“Ah, fight night,” Graves confirmed, finally understanding the moment Miranda was referring to. He took another bite of his sandwich, mumbling, “punched a god” around his mouthful of food. He was thankful Miranda didn’t press the topic; Graves wanted to get to know Brent better. He didn’t really find the older demigod that scary, but he didn’t know him well enough to see the softer side that his sisters always pointed out. And if this guy had punched a god in the face without being vaporized on the spot? Well, Cam definitely wanted to call him a friend. He blinked, registering Miranda’s question a few seconds after she asked. “Hm, somethin’ we call yell along to? Somethin’ that’ll keep me awake until we make our next stop. It’s a long drive, but it’ll be worth it, I swear.”

Miranda nodded.  "Alright, I can work with that."  She debated offering to drive for a little bit, but her brother was stubborn.  Besides, it didn't even matter if she said anything or not, they both knew that they would swap if he needed a quick power nap, so she decided to not bring it up. Tapping her phone a few times, she pulled up a new playlist of songs they could easily jam out to and pressed play, reaching out to turn the stereo up as it started blasting out.

[seokjxnnie]

Stitches | Yoongi

genre: angst, smut, badboy!au warnings: oral sex, light teasing words: 4k summary: She knows what he does. She doesn’t like it, but she knows she will still pour him a shot and get the first aid kit when he comes home after a bad fight, no questions asked. But, everybody’s got their breaking point.

Her tired eyes shifted to the pivoting door knob at the sound of keys clattering on the other side. A delicate noise, yet it rung loudly against the backdrop of a vacant silence. Her gaze redirected to the clock on the wall whose hands read just past 3AM, eliciting a hefty sigh from her. She jadedly returned to the face appearing behind the door that quietly creaked open.

“Oh, you’re still awake,” a muttered comment fell from bruised lips, a discoloured patch on the cheek to pair.

She grudgingly eyed the ribbons of dried blood on his collar. Peeking from his jacket that he seemed to have indifferently draped on was a bare shoulder underneath a frayed cuff where his sleeve used to be, contrasting his other fully clothed shoulder.

“How can I sleep?” Aggravated murmurs rustled past gritted teeth. She rose from her slump on the couch.

Yoongi grimaced at the bitter atmosphere. Nonetheless, going through the muscle memory motions of a familiar routine, he took a seat on the chair she pulled out for him without another word.

The girl returned to his side, setting a shot glass down on the table next to him and tipping the bottle of whiskey in her hands until it was filled to the brim. Its sharp smell, although well acquainted, unsettled her just as much as the last time, and the time before that. She remembered a time when purchasing a bottle of whiskey was intended for her satisfaction too. Now, associated with an unpleasant situation, it was no longer a drink she could enjoy. She rested the cap back on the tip of the bottle’s neck, not quite spinning it closed knowing that a refill will shortly follow.

Retrieving the alcohol meant retrieving the first aid kit as well, as they were stored adjacent to one another on the same shelf. Nights like these has made the two a complementary duo. And so, reflexive hands unzipped the package and laid out its contents in a preferred order.

He only gained her low stare when he produced a hiss of pain to accompany the discomfort that twisted his face upon rigidly peeling off his jacket. Forced to slow the sharp hitch of a breath that dried in the back of her throat so that her dismay wasn’t as audibly brash, her eyes traced the band of crimson that trailed under his torn-off sleeve. The gash had stopped bleeding now, meaning that in a dark alleyway somewhere must’ve laid the now abandoned, red-stained fabric. She swallowed and bit her tongue to maintain her withholding speech.

By the time Yoongi had thrown back another shot, she had left and come back with a few ice cubes swaddled in a damp towel. She hovered the makeshift ice pack over the bruise on his face. “Hold it.”

A look of nonchalance played on in his expressions while he took the cold bundle, only to place it down on the table. “It’s fine, I don’t need it.”

He hadn’t a second to register the unforgiving click of her tongue before flinching when the icy sensation crushed against his purpled cheek without warning. “Hold it,” she repeated, introducing venom in her emphasis this time.

He sighed, replacing her hand with his over his cheek with a glower. A quiet huff later, she heaved down onto the corner of the chair pulled out next to him.

The accustomed routine that she was forced to call second nature manufactured itself as a new skill to her. She had gotten good at this. Hence, taking one begrudging look at the slash on his arm, the girl concluded that it required a stitched closure. She wouldn’t have had any notion that she would come to know her way around a suture kit quite well if it weren’t for him. Yet, she was far from grateful.

After briskly cleaning the minor scrape on the corner of his lip with a dampened Q-tip, she held a towel under the laceration on his bicep, her other hand drowning it in water from a squeeze bottle. She remained uninterrupted and unwavering when he flinched in response to the jolt of stings that followed. The knitted brows and clenched jaw were dismissed, and it was a fluid transition to the needle and thread for her.

Yoongi took another swig straight from the bottle to stifle the hiss that threatened to surface on his tongue as the needle pricked and weaved. She worked proficiently, quietly – too quietly. The silence was so dense and engulfing that it forced him to confront the palpable antagonism she was mutely emanating. He could’ve sworn her hands were working a little more crudely, that every harsher jab might have been intentional. Even if she refused to meet his eyes, he recognized that all light in her irises were extinguished by criticism. And despite her unmoving lips, it was as if she spelled out her resentment with every breath she took.

The exhaustion, the tattering ache that burdened every one of his limbs might’ve impaired the filter that meant to stop his irritation before it left his throat. “What?” he snarled, “What is it? Just come out with it.”

Her digits paused and shrill, strict eyes flickered up to him. Her mouth remained taut.

He scoffed, “Don’t look at me like that. I already know you’re mad. For what? None of this is new. We’ve been over this again and again and again. You already know what I do. You already know this is me.”

Yoongi always had a talent in delivering words severe with callousness without needing to raise his voice.

She straightened, her eyes narrowing with vexation. “I know, how do you think I got so good at this?”

The ice pack in his hand unsympathetically tossed onto the table. “Then what’s wrong?” he spat, and although low, he supplied the same mercy as a slap across the face.

Mirroring her escalating fury was her throbbing temples within a heated head. “Well fuck me, sorry I worry over someone I care about,” her words clawed out from behind gritted teeth. “Does it ever occur to you that you’re hurting me too?”

Taking a sharp inhale, he looked the other way before he could see the expression that must’ve accompanied those pained words. “Don’t lose sleep over me. I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

His eyes fell shut in regret as soon as the words left his lips. He had meant that he didn’t want her staying up to see him like this either, but his undisciplined frustration twisted his words out to be more wounding than intended before they were prevented.

Her jaw went slack in bleak disbelief. A hefty huff of exasperation heaved from her now wrenching chest. Welling, stinging dews were inspired by the recollections of all the late nights she spent worrying and hurting, only for her to push it aside so she could tend to him. And then, the cycle would repeat without or a shred of penance, hesitation, just like it is now. So, it wasn’t worth anymore of her words, anymore of her time in this moment, because the same scenario will unfold again maybe even just weeks from now.

Swallowing down the discord of angry obscenities and spiteful disputes, she refused to spend anymore of her energy and yanked away from the last tied stitch on his arm. She threw down her tools and shot up from her seat, only allowing the stream of tears to fall once she stormed off the other way for the isolation of the bedroom.

“Shit,” Yoongi cursed under his breath, “wait.” Jolting up from his seat, he rushed to swing for the capture of her hand, but she departed too quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!”

With an ungraceful hurry, he jerked his shoulder towards his mouth to clasp the stem of the remaining thread that had the needle holder still entwined at its end, dangling and swinging from his sutures. Cleaving it off with his teeth and lobbing it aside, he stumbled after her.

Her strides gained in haste and length as she was resolute in denying him the opportunity to talk his way out of it, like he’s always had before. It wasn’t enough, however, as he caught up to her just before their bedroom door and claimed a firm grip on her arm, not quite reeling her in yet certainly not letting her go.

“Let me explain,” he sighed with his tone softening to a pleading quality when registering the sight of her stained cheeks under shattered irises.

“No need, I heard you loud and clear. I’m not needed here.” She bit her tongue, hearing the vulnerable breakage in her voice that meant to deliver an unwavering antagonism.

He heard her tremors too, and a smothering weight collected in his chest. “I meant I hate you seeing me like this too.”

Her head spun away from him to keep him from watching the rest of her guard evaporate. “Then let me go. I’m going to bed.”

Yoongi’s clutch slackened only to immediately glide down to her fingers, securely tangling with them instead. “I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other like this,” he persisted.

“Funny you’d think I’d even let you come to bed with me,” the girl scoffed belligerently before her wrists snapped in an attempt to loosen from his hold.

She gasped, plunged into disorientation when he lurched her towards him before she could escape. Other hand clasping onto her shoulder, he pushed and pinned her up against the wall behind her.

“I’m trying, can’t you see that? Is that not enough for you?” he contended, inches from her face and swathing her in his desperate, frustrated insistence. “Fuck, of course I know you hate what I do, all of this. But I do what I do so I can keep you as far away from it as possible. I would never let anything happen to you.”

His unfiltered, vehement expressions painted an image in her mind of all the knives he took to the hand, all the fists he took to the jaw, and how he’d do it over and over again if it meant she was never on its receiving end.

The consequent anxiety and grief collapsed in on her, and bringing her cupped hands to her mouth, she wept into them. “It’s not me that I’m worried about, you fucking idiot!” The surplus of erratic emotions translated into an unhindered tongue, and she winced at how foreign and bitter it tasted to demean him. She tremulously heaved in a breath to order her heated series of thoughts. “I know you’d do absolutely anything to keep me safe, but it’s you I’m scared for. You don’t call, you don’t text, nothing. You’re gone for hours on end into the night and I have no idea what kind of trouble you’re in this time. I can’t gauge at what point I can be sure that you have things under control, and at what point I should call the cops. And then from there, it’s a constant battle between the fear that I get you arrested and the even bigger fear that I’m too late and you’re already dead in a ditch.” Her eyes flowed even more irrepressibly to imitate the swelling passion in her tone. “Every time you’re gone without a warning, I have to sit alone and fight off the terrifying thought that tomorrow just might be the day your name and face is plastered all over the news. But they don’t paint you as the good person that I know and love; they’ll reduce you to a deviant, a criminal, who deserved everything that came for him. And I just can’t swallow that thought.”

The heavy sobbing left her breathless. Taking a pause to slow her respirations and gain some remnant of steadiness, her fingers glided up her face to wipe the torrent of tears. The outpour of hurt and anguish battered at him and withered the restraint he had on her shoulders. His palm planted above her on the wall now, and his head wilted low.

“I don’t know if I can take it anymore. How much longer can I handle this loneliness?” her voice had diminished to frail, wispy whimpers. “I’m so lonely, Yoongi.”

He swallowed, and down with it her projected distress and fright. An agonizing remorse colonized his extremities as he found himself in a setting of desolate isolation that her pained words illustrated. Being so determined in protecting her from getting hurt, he was sightless as to how he’s been hurting her. Just the thought of her blemished by gashes and bruises threatened to tear his chest open, how could he have not empathized with how she’s been feeling all this time. Over and over again did she have to stomach his endangerments and woundings, while biting her tongue as it continued to happen again and again. Without knowing, he’s been gradually eating at her strength. And now, all he wanted to do was embrace her tight and apologize to her endlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi pleaded. His head lifted trying to find her gaze, only for it to be clouded with a sorrowful and angry mist while directed the other way. His index and thumb travelled to caress her jaw and petition for her to look at him as he repeated, “I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Her face jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” she weakly muttered in between choked sniffles.

He implored once more, softly calling her name, fingers cradling the side of her face now. One word, but she felt the compelling sincerity and desperation for forgiveness that his tone packed. Tears welling once more, she shook her head in refusal, yet acknowledging that her defences were already dwindling. She didn’t push him away.

“Baby, look at me.”

“Yoongi, don’t—”

Digits nuzzling until they reached the nape of her neck, his other hand planted on the small of her back and drew her in until his nose grazed hers. “Look at me.” He guided her sight to lock with his. “I’ll be better,” his whispers were hardly audible, but the assurance and commitment echoed vibrantly in her ear. “I won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

Frustrations dissipating, she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from his gentle breaths that fondly tickled her skin. His touches were so soft yet enthrallingly warm, and anxious for the intimacy she’s been deprived of, she found herself leaning into his hold. She shuddered, tantalized, when his lips scarcely swept against hers. “I don’t ever want to lose you,” the girl feebly mewled.

He fully encaptured her in a kiss this time. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Consumed by his longing to convey his infatuation for her, he was eager to remind himself of her intoxicating feeling and taste.

His husky voice was engulfing, and swimming in a heightened desire, her fingers zealously hugged his jaw to deepen the kiss. She sighed with bliss against his tongue when he murmured expressions of passion and infatuation.

“Ah,” Yoongi hissed in pain and pulled back, the pads of his digits gingerly dabbing the bruise on the corner of his mouth. She gasped an apology, to which he lightly chuckled in response, shaking his head in reassurance and quick to close their distance again.

“Mm, wait, Yoongi,” she tried to break away from his lips, only for him to press right back in. Between his caresses, she sighed, “It’s late and you’re hurt. You should get some rest.”

“Come here.” A keen growl and impatient hands had her thrusted back against the wall again. Lifting her leg, he guided her thigh in a hook around his hips to further dismiss their distance. A sharp breath carrying his name hitched in the back of her throat as he laid kisses and nips down the outline of her neck. “I want you so bad,” his low-ringing demand inspired quivers coursing throughout her entirety. “I want you so fucking bad. Right now.”

With his lips and teeth handling her roughly, the girl knew to desert any mode of resistance – Yoongi always worked tirelessly to get what he wanted. Consequently, when he avidly hiked up her nightshirt, she obliged by elevating her arms for a smooth glide off her figure and onto the floor.

Both hands grappling her thighs, he lifted her and set her weight on his waist as he carried her over to the couch. He threw her down, and before her vision could settle from the abrupt movements, he was already tearing her panties down her legs. Tugging his shirt over his head and abandoning it aside, he then immediately dipped down to clasp his mouth around her pebbling nipples. Gaze flicking up towards her, he dragged his proud smirk across her mounds at the way they fitfully fluttered up and down in rhythm with the trembling billows of air that filtered past her clamped down teeth.

His teeth continued raking down her abdomen. Gaining sight of her sex painted with trickling desire, he clicked his tongue with a sweltering eagerness. He latched onto the underside of her thighs and shoved her knees towards her chest, his rough clutches keeping them there. Wasting no time, his face closed in on her warmth, his mouth enveloping her slick lower lips and tongue snapping against her clit.

Quickly, he found himself inebriated, lapping at her taste with the knowledge that he made her as sopping as she was. The blended mewls of his name and moans of pleasure stringing from her throat heightened his hunger. “Fuck, kitten, you taste so good,” his husky growl shuddered off his lips and vibrated against her skin. He smugly chuckled at the twitching hips he earned in response. It didn’t inhibit him from continuing to abuse her slit with riveting strokes and her throbbing bud with relentless flickers. Fingers burrowed into the suppleness of her legs to hold them down as they thrashed, the consequent dragging fashioned red bands across her skin.

An escalating pressure pooled in her core. Her digits got lost in the locks of his hair, anxious for register. “No, wait, I’m close,” she whined, hardly coherent and more so relying instead on tugging his hair to stop him.

Despite grasping exactly what she wanted, to be filled by him, Yoongi teased, “Tell me what you want, baby.” Straightening up, he hovered over her yet continued baiting her with his two digits that he inserted and curled.

The girl whimpered in protest, thoughts in an exhilarated haze that she could only assemble a muttered “together”.

“Use your words. Beg,” he demanded, now pumping at an intensity that threatened to push her to climax.

She frantically squealed, “No, please. I want you to fuck me.” Desperately reaching up to claw at his collarbones in a plead, she gasped her words, “I want to come on your cock. I want you to fuck me so I can come on your cock, please.”

Yoongi hissed with a searing impatience, hand pulling away from between her thighs and grabbing at her hips to harshly lift and position her. A yelp fell from her lips in surprise as he threw her down once more and she found herself kneeled on the couch with her face flat on its back ledge. The clanging of his belt unbuckling and the rustling of his pants behind her as he hastily peeled them off made her swallow with an overwhelming yearning. Before she could raise her head to look back at him, his palm held her face down as he lined up the head of his shaft to her entrance. Easing in, a gratified groan threw his head back in elation to finally feel her wrapped around his pulsing member. There wasn’t much of a buffer before the consuming thirst had him hammering into her. She screamed with bliss into the cushions.

The warmth and slickness of her walls made for an easy pounding. Jaw slackened with heavy pants pushing in and out, his tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he was hypnotized by the sight of her in front of him. Her ass slapped with every one of his thrusts, her hips stuttered in trying to keep pace with him, her limbs quaked and jolted as they dug into the cushions. He basked in the resulting whines of his name, punctuated with curses and begs that warned of her oncoming climax. The clenching of her pulsating core made him fuck her harder, keen to see her completely unravel under him.

He claimed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulled her up as he continued to lunge into her, deep and quick, so he could hear her shriek as he grazed the bundle of nerves that sent waves of euphoria crashing through her.

Yoongi leaned down to cradle the shell of her ear with kisses and praises of how pretty she is when she comes. He pumped a few more times to let her ride our her high before he felt the onset of his own.

“Come in my mouth,” she entreated between choked breaths, “please.”

He smirked at the thought her drinking his cum. “On your knees, kitten,” he commanded, pulling out.

Obediently and quickly, she moved, descending to her knees in front of him as he sat on the couch. Stroking her hair and collecting it behind her head, he hummed with enjoyment as she took the crown of his dick onto her lips, tongue drawing generous spirals. Palming the base, her mouth moved down its length, tongue flattening on its underside now. She moaned softly enough to drape his shaft in invigorating vibrations as she sucked, splaying his taste across her cavity. The pleased hisses and hip jerks she was rewarded with stretched a smile on her lips as she continued bobbing up and down. His hand fisting her hair guided her to an amplified speed. Relishing in his furrowed brows, his parted lips that called her a good girl, and his thrusts off the couch to reach an unventured depth, her clasping fingers followed along the intensifying maneuvers of her mouth.

Pleasure engulfing his entirety and igniting his nerves, he chased his high. Muscles tensing and twitching, his rhythm staggered. A euphoric concoction of sounds wrenched his jaw open and she found it absolutely entrancing. One last powerful lunge sent ribbons of his cum across her tongue and dribbled down her face when she drew back to catch her breath. She giggled quietly, elated at the mess he made on her chin and her instilled lust that glazed over his irises.

Yoongi grinned amidst hefty pants at sight of her face being marked as his as he combed back the strands of hair matted to her forehead. He stretched to the side of the couch where a coffee table stood and drew a tissue from the box sitting on its surface. He dabbed the mess off her face before drawing her up to straddle him on the couch.

Wordlessly, he conveyed his praise and affection with the palm that cradled the side of her face and guided her closer until she was inches away. His thumb traced shapes against her jaw. He gazed at her in silence, as if to drink in the lingering bliss that she exuded, and to soak in the electrifying sensation of their bare, damp skin against each other. His gestures alone demonstrated of the gratitude he was immersed in to have her in front of him like this. He reaffirmed so as he spread delicate, tender pecks across her lips, making sure to nuzzle his nose against hers more frequently as they kissed.

“I’m not going to worry you anymore,” he whispered to confirm what his eyes already spoke of. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore.”

[anuknowha]

Afraid

Title: Afraid

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader 

Rating: R

Warning: Suicidal circumstances, cutting, mentions of abuse.

Word Count:  1,824

Characters: 9,457    W/o spaces: 7,653

For the longest of times, your bother was abusive, but when you find someone just like you, are you finally able to be free?

Requested by: @fuckmeupbetch

“You’ll never be good enough!!” your mom spat at you, a 6 year old baby girl. Someone who never did a wrong on purpose, but today you did one in her eyes. You had accidentally broken a vase of purple roses that your father had brought her before he left out for work this morning. She was angry at you, and it was as if the flowers were worth more than you.

“I’m sorry mama.” you said with complete sympathy in your heart. It seemed she ignored your apology and you soon found yourself on the floor with a giant red mark against your cheek. Tears started to form at your eyes and you burst out crying. You quickly got up and ran to your room.

Years past and there was nothing but abuse after abuse for nothing. It all started because when you were 6, your dad started to cheat on your mom, and therefore she started to drink, quickly falling into the world of alcoholism. She would let it get the best of her, bottle after bottle, stronger and stronger, the liquid ran down her throat everyday. As years went on, by the time you were 8, she lost her job, and by the time you were 12, she had resulted to being a prostitute just to afford more drinks. And when she wasn’t out crawling the town for the lowest of the low of men, she was there, molesting you, abusing you. You’d have to wear makeup to cover your cheeks from the dark red markings from her feet and hands. The slaps across the face for forgetting to get something from the store or even for returning home past dark. At every chance she had, she was ready to abuse you. The marks on your arms were coating almost every inch from your wrist to your shoulder. You’d go to school aching and come home crying. You had nowhere else to go. You had no real friends, all of the girls who claimed to care, were just there to step on you. You had one spit onto your face during gym and everyone laughed at you about it. The teachers never cared there, they didn’t take time to suspend anyone, unless a kid actually died. And there was a time that you almost did.

You had a crush on this guy who was with a “close friend” of yours, but you knew you couldn’t have him. When you were with him you felt happy, he gave you joy, made you feel like a better person, and you shared a lot of laughs together. But sadly, that “friend” was nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

One day she invited you out, and walked you into the alley with her, where her and her posse beat you until you went into a coma. They kicked you in your stomach, and tore at your clothes. And by the time they were done, you were left half naked. Your shirt near the exit of the alley, and blood coating your lips and hands. You had even had a black eye, and a severe concussion.

You were in a coma for over 3 months, and missed a lot of school. After you woke up you, a few more days of rest, you were sent home, back to your abusive mother, and she didn’t even let up her anger to help you.

“Look at these medical bills you dumb fuck!!” she threw the papers at you which scattered across the floor around you.

You rushed to pick them up and put them on the table. You than ran upstairs and grabbed your razor.

You are now 18.

“Why haven’t I killed myself yet…? It's been 12 years… and I have no job, and I’m still stuck here with her. I hate it here!! I hate my life!! I hate everything about this world!!” you looked down at your arms.

The bandages that were on your arms were from the school nurse, she placed them them so you would let the cuts heal completely.

Today marks the middle of the school year, and your last year of school. You were glad to be so close to getting out and yet so far from being free from your old life. The abuse and struggles seemed like they were to never stop. You walked into school today, and a crowd of people were standing around a person, seemingly someone new to the school. "You're so cute!!", "Amazing!!", "Why don't more guys have long hair like you?" Were all comments you heard as you pushed your way through the crowd, and accidentally reached the center. It was a new student, he was tall, with long blonde hair and blue eyes that could stare right through you. They were luminescent, and they were full of pride. "Hey bitch, how about you move out the way?" You felt hands against your back and a sudden force of gravity had pulled you to the floor. It was embarrassing, but you landed face first right in front of this man's feet and the crowd erupted in a laugh. He looked down at you, a face of worry and gently picks you up from the ground, dusting off your clothes. "Hmm? Are you alright?" He commented with a straight face. You stayed silent. A sigh left his throat and he started to escort you through the crowd to the nurses office. Upon your arrival you take a seat on the bed, realizing you had a bloody nose, which had been dripping onto the hallway floor as you guys were walking to the office. He went to grab a wet paper towel and returned to dab the blood from your red and slightly swollen nose. "Why are you helping me?" You you spat. "I saw them push you, and what they did was not pleasing to the eye. Do not treat someone like trash, especially, if they have done nothing wrong." His blue orbs met yours and you stared at him. "My name is Michael Langdon..." He started, "...and I've sadly been through the same type of struggle you've been through." "How could you?" You huffed. He continued to clean the blood off until it was completely gone, and it disgusted you that you even let him this close, but at this point you were too tired to fight it. You could die right here, right now, and you couldn't care less at this point. "I've been abandoned by my mother." He sighs as he sits down next to you. "She deemed me to be evil, to be maniacal, that everyone around me was better than me, even my father. But she never kicked him out... And he was the one who raped my mother. Everything in my life has been a lie, it took forever for me to grow. The constant abuse and hate that I got from the woman who took me in, it was unbearable. So I know how it feels. And I can tell by the markings that dawn your arms, that your body is giving in to this, and truly, it does hurt. Your mom was your abuser as well wasn't she?" "H-how'd you know that?" You stare at him in shock. "Oh, I come with much intelligence about everyone in this school. I can read their minds and faces, but yours is one most relatable." He leaned his head on your shoulder. You blushed, you haven't felt so comfortable around someone in a long time, and it's been a while since you let your guard down but something told you not to be afraid. His hair was draped over your shoulders and it caused you to smile for once in many years, and this one was real. It actually relaxed you to a point as you tilted your head back some to stop the blonde flow. You stroked his head gently, feeling his gorgeous long strands between your fingers and across your hand. He was innocent to you, like a puppy, and it was cute. He looked up at you and went to go get you an ice pack from the nurse. When he came back, he placed it on your forehead and held it there, watching you watch him. It was wonderful. You guys stayed at the nurses office all day, and it wasn't until the last bell that you and him left. He was to walk you home but you refused to go, so instead he took you in. Every day was better for you. He cared for you and nursed you back to health as much as possible. Some nights you'd wake up drenched in sweat because of the horrid nightmares you had about your mother. It would constantly drain you of sleep, and when it did, he would hear your cries of help and come to your side; cuddling you to sleep. Some nights you would often sit outside the door, pacing back and forth with your mind racing, thinking to look for a razor. And one night you did. It had been a month since you had last even seen your mother and she had called multiple times but you decided to ignore them all, until today. The phone rang, and fear darted through your mind as you decided to take the time to answer it. You picked it up. "Y/N... Is that you? Please come back to me. You're such a good girl and I miss you." You mom's voice sounded from the phone, almost as if it was sympathetic, but you could see right through it. "Y/N? Y/N?" She cried. You ended the call and started to cry. Her words ran through your head hungrily and you found yourself going to the bathroom and looking for a razor, the sharpest you could find. You lifted up your sleeve and dragged it up from the base of your wrist, you grunted through tears. The feeling hurt, and your vision became blurry as blood started pouring down both sides of your arm. You were losing consciousness and quickly felt yourself growing weak and falling to the floor. The crimson liquid quickly built up a puddle under your arm. Soon, you were awake to a voice calling your name. "Y/N!! Y/N!!" Michael ran his fingers through your hair as you woke up in his arms. You looked down and the cut was closed, sealed, and the blood on the floor was cleaned. Your arm was covered in a giant scar. "How...? You're not suppose to be able to fix it..." You whimper. "There's a lot you don't know about me Y/N. And its for the best, but I do want you safe, so please stay safe and stop harming yourself, it'll only make things worse." He pecks your lips softly and watches you fall into a deep slumber.

Taglist: @sexy-monster-fucker @the-captain-kidd

[catalinda04]

Carried Away Chapter 43: What a January it’s Been

Masterlist 

Though Lucy had asked the drama club students to keep Henry’s involvement in their production quiet, once Tom got involved, the kids found that all but impossible. Lucy had expected it, so she wasn’t that disappointed in them. Friday Lucy made her way to the stage for rehearsal, and found no less than 20 additional students waiting there.

“Are you all here to volunteer?” Lucy asked them excitedly, knowing full well they were waiting for Henry to arrive.

The students looked at each other awkwardly. Lucy smiled. “Henry isn’t coming today guys. That was a one time thing. Now you’re all welcome to stay and watch rehearsal, but if you’re not here for drama club, you have to go. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Lucy smiled at their disappointed faces as they turned to leave.

Rehearsal went the best it had gone up to that point. There were still some awkward spots, as the kids remembered the hints and tips that Henry and Tom had given them. Lucy had high hopes for the competition.

Lucy called Henry to tell him she would pick up a pizza on the way home. Over dinner Henry commented to Lucy, “Darling, I’m glad tomorrow is Saturday. You’ve been working too hard. We’re just going to relax together this weekend, right?”

“No, tomorrow night is the Movie Night fundraiser for my Travel Club, the group of students that I’m bringing to Europe this summer. You’re welcome to come, but you don’t have to.”

“Do you get to rest next weekend?” Henry asked concerned.

Lucy pulled up her calendar on her phone to show him her January events. “Next weekend is the dessert and drama fundraiser for the drama club, then the following weekend is competition. January is kind of a crazy month for me.”

Henry looked over the colorful phone screen. “Cupcake, when do you do anything for yourself?” he asked, concerned.

Lucy took a moment to think, “June. June is when I get to do stuff for me, except this June, because that’s when the student trip is. So maybe July this year.”

“This can’t be healthy, you need time to unwind.”

“This is how my winters go. I run myself ragged, doing 101 different events, until I inevitably get sick, then I’m forced to stop for a couple of days. But that can’t happen until the end of the month. We have our competition on the 31st. If we take first or second place, then we move on to the state level, so that will mean more rehearsal time, with a trip to the cities the following weekend.”

“Darling, that isn’t healthy. You need to take care of yourself.”

“It’s just January. February, you’re going to get sick of me being around all the time!” Lucy joked.

“I don’t think that could happen.” Henry smiled at her.

That night, Lucy fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. Henry carried her to bed, and tucked her in, before crawling in beside her. He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 10:02. “In bed by 10:00 on a Friday,” Henry thought to himself, “never thought I’d see the day.” He smiled to himself and pulled Lucy into his arms, before dropping into a deep sleep.

Lucy awoke Saturday morning, feeling refreshed. As she ambled to the bathroom, it occurred to her that she didn’t remember going to bed the night before. “It’s like I’m a kid again, fall asleep on the couch, wake-up in bed. Sweet.”

Deciding, she didn’t want to be up for the day yet, Lucy returned to the bedroom. Henry wasn’t awake yet, but a part of him was definitely “up”. She climbed back into the bed, and snuggled herself against Henry’s side. Kissing his shoulder, she stroked her hand over his chest. He smiled in his sleep. Lucy’s hand continued its exploration across his abs, while her lips sought out his nipple, hiding in his swirls of chest hair. Henry groaned in his sleep.

Lucy’s hand dipped lower across Henry’s torso, finally wrapping around his impressive manhood. Henry’s eyes popped open. “Good morning Darcy.” Lucy murmured, pressing another kiss to his chest, her hand slowly pumping up and down his length.

Henry groaned. “Good morning. This is quite a wake-up,” he sighed, working to not let the sensations overwhelm him.

Lucy smiled, “Well, I was awake, and so was he. I didn’t want to let it go to waste.” she explained, sliding her leg over his torso to straddle him, releasing twin sighs with Henry when she slid his length into her.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” Henry grinned sleepily at her, weaving his hands with hers he sat up, bringing their lips together. Henry drank in her mouth like a man in the desert. His hands caressed her back, gripping her bottom to bring her closer, his lips tracing patterns across her neck.

When he could take no more, he rolled Lucy under him, wrapping her legs around his arms, and leaned heavily into her, his hips rolling to caress every nerve she possessed. He watched her come apart in his arms, before increasing his pace for the last frantic thrusts that would send him over the edge after her. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily.

When Henry made to roll off of Lucy, her arms tightened around him. “Stay. I like the weight. I like feeling you on top of me.” He stayed for several more beats, before rolling them to lay on their sides, face to face, her leg thrown over his hip. Lucy sighed contentedly. “This is what I pictured when I pictured us living together; lazy weekend mornings, waking up together.”

He leaned close, to kiss her. “It is a pretty spectacular way to spend a morning,” he agreed.

Lucy found Henry to be almost more of a hindrance than a help during her travel club’s movie night fundraiser. Many of her drama students were also in the travel club. They were so excited to talk to Henry, that Lucy had to shoo them away to do something productive, though she smiled wistfully from across the room watching him interact with her students. He was never impatient at their questions, and let them show him what needed to be done.

The rest of the weekend passed easily, though Lucy could tell Henry was starting to go a bit stir crazy. He needed a hobby.

Tuesday evening, Lucy arrived home to find every towel she had ever owned draped across just about every surface in her kitchen. “What happened‽” she asked, trying to find a dry place to set down her purse.

Henry looked sheepish. “Well, you know how the kitchen faucet has a drip, well I thought I could mend it. I watched several videos on youtube; it didn’t look very difficult. It’s harder than it looks.” Henry explained himself. Lucy bit her lip attempting not to laugh at the image in her head. “And is it fixed?” she asked turning to the sink, to see the faucet drip more than it did before. “I’m guessing not.”

“No, it isn’t. But tomorrow, I head to the DIY store, to buy a new faucet, which is apparently something I need to get, and your father is going to come assist me. So tonight, if you would, please go online and pick which faucet you’d like, so I know which one to buy.”

Lucy shook her head at the onslaught of information Henry had thrown at her. “You, and my dad, are going to do a plumbing project? And I won’t be here to film it? I should call in sick tomorrow, this could be funnier than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My dad is very...precise in the way he works. Just do whatever he tells you, and you’ll be fine.”

Lucy showed Henry how to use the clothes dryer, so that they could use the towels the next day, should the plumbing decide to attack again. It wasn’t until later when they were watching something on TV, that Lucy remembered she had a question for Henry.

“Ryan and Andi want to know if we want to go curling with them on Friday.”

“Curling?” Henry asked confused.

“You know, the ice sport, with the brooms.” she made a sweeping motion with her arms.

“I know what it is, but I’ve never done it before.”

“Would you like to try? It’s one of the only winter sports I like, because it’s inside.”

“I think that would be fun. Plus it will keep you from falling asleep at 8:00 on a Friday night!”

“I’ll tell Ryan tomorrow then. I think you’ll like it.”

Friday, Lucy and Henry met Ryan, Andi, Emma, Joshua, and another teacher that Andi worked with and her husband, at the curling club for a quick bite before going to the ice. Henry proved to be a decent curler, especially for someone who had never done it before. The four couples went to a bar nearby after finishing their game for a few drinks. They didn’t close down the bar, but it was after 11 when they got back home. Henry had accepted a place on Ryan’s men’s league curling team. Lucy was happy to see her boyfriend and guy friend getting along.

“Darling, how far is Duluth?” Henry asked out of the blue Sunday morning. Lucy was grading a stack of papers and Henry was answering e-mails.

“It’s about an hour.” She called back, and was answered by a laugh from Henry. “What’s the laugh for?”

“Do you know you do that? I asked how far it was, and you told me how long it would take to get there.”

“Well, that’s what you really want to know isn’t it?” She called back logically.

“I guess you’re right.” Henry acquiesced, seeing the reason in her argument.

“What are you doing in Duluth?”

“Dany found a trainer for me to work with. I need to get back to the gym. The trainer is in Duluth. I’ll be going 4 days a week.”

“It’s not a horrible drive, unless it snows, then it could be miserable. When do you start?”

“Tuesday.”

“Well, at least it will give you something to do during the day. You’ve been prowling around this house for 2 weeks. I was afraid you were going to get cabin fever and go crazy!”

“No, I knew the training was coming, so I was just enjoying my time doing nothing. You may enjoy packing in historical sites on your vacation, but I like to do nothing.”

The day of the One Act Competition arrived. Lucy was nervous for her kids. They had worked so hard, but only the top 2 plays went on to the state competition. She knew, and they knew, statistically it was a long shot, but they were going to give it their all.

Lucy’s phone buzzed in her pocket while she was helping the kids with their costumes and makeup. She looked at her screen to find a message from Tom. It was a video message to the kids. She gathered them around to watch.

“Hello thespians. I know you have all worked incredibly hard, and put in countless hours to make this show as perfect as you can make it. I want to wish you luck, break a leg, and remember to have fun. Drama lets you live in someone else’s shoes for a time, do them proud.” He then kissed both of his hands, blew them at the group, and waved goodbye, before the video stopped.

“Well, guys, if nothing else comes of this, you’ll be able to say that you know Tom Hiddleston.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re almost up, everyone ready? Then let’s go.” She led the group out of the room they were using as their dressing room, and backstage. Henry caught-up with them just before they reached the stage door. He helped the group arrange their minimal set pieces, and went to find a seat in the auditorium. Lucy stayed backstage to watch, and help with a tricky costume change.

At the end of the day, the group finished third. They would not be moving on, but did receive a trophy for the case at school. Lucy snapped a picture of the whole group with the trophy for the school’s newspaper, and sent a copy to Tom.

“Ms. C? How could we not win?” Patricia asked dejected. “We had both Tom and Henry helping us!”

“Patricia. Honey. We finished third. Out of eight groups. Last year, we finished seventh out of seven. Don’t look at it as not winning. Look at how far you’ve come. The schools that won, those kids spend weeks every summer at drama camp. They eat, sleep, live, drama. And you guys almost beat them. I’m so proud of all of you. Though I was proud of you last year in seventh place too. You all set out to put on a play, and you did. And you did a great job at it too. Now, grab a pillow and let’s finish loading the van so we can go to our celebration dinner!”

After the competition, the whole group went out to dinner to celebrate their third place finish, finishing the play, and having their free time back. They invited Henry to come with. While they were eating Lucy handed out awards. There were the standard MVP, and Rookie of the Year awards, but there were also several funny awards, such as the Turtle Award, for Audrey, who was perpetually late to practice, and the Songbird award, to Jay who even last week had asked if they couldn't switch to a musical. When Lucy finished handing out awards, she sat to eat her dessert, and Audrey stood.

“Ms. C. We have a couple of things we’d like to say. I was chosen as the speaker for the group. First we’d like to thank Henry for his time and willingness to help.” She opened a bag Lucy hadn’t noticed before, and produced a hoodie with the school's logo emblazoned on the front . Henry’s eyes misted over as he accepted the sweatshirt from the kids. Lucy could barely see through the tears in her eyes. She was unaware of the gift the kids were presenting, but was so proud of them for the gesture. Audrey continued, “We also have one for Tom, if you would be willing to send it to him Ms. C.” Audrey produced a second hoodie and handed it to Lucy.

“I can take care of that, though I think you should all write a little note, and we’ll send it along with the hoodie. This is very sweet of you all to do this.” Lucy commended her group.

“We’re not done yet. We have something for you too.” Audrey stopped her. “Ms. C, our fearless leader. You’ve put up with a lot from us, but you’ve never stopped believing in us. This is just a small token of our thanks.” Audrey finished, producing an enormous, 5 lb. Hershey bar out of the bag. Lucy laughed through her tears.

“Thank you all. You’ve worked so hard this year, and though we aren’t moving on, please don’t let that diminish all that you’ve accomplished. Now let’s get the check and get out of here, it’s been a long day, and I want to go home!”

“The check has already been taken care of, dinner is on me tonight everyone.” Henry announced, standing. “Thank you for the sweatshirt, I will wear it proudly. I just hope that when you become famous actors and actresses, you remember to thank myself and Ms. Claussen in your acceptance speech.” Lucy couldn’t contain herself, she wrapped her arms around Henry and gave him a quick kiss, for being so sweet. Which earned a rousing “whoo” from the group.

Chapter 42             Chapter 44

[reekierevelator]

On the Eve of the Wedding

Finishing up at work on Friday nights was never easy.  There was always one last thing to do.  And then another last thing.  And another. It was never easy ensuring all the vans had returned from making deliveries and all next week’s orders were fully processed and ready to be loaded first thing Monday morning. And presentation was important. If the vans came back filthy a quick hose down was necessary.

Being loading bay supervisor was a reasonable job but I was hoping to make transport manager before I hit thirty.  After that I figured it might be time to settle down. But that Friday all I was thinking was at least it was the end of the week. So, at last, time for a pint at the local, the works’ crowd gathering in the Sheared Sheep, just to be sociable and wind down, reducing the week’s stresses and strains to old war stories, something to make each other laugh about.  

And Friday nights I liked a drink. Didn’t take the old jalopy in on Fridays. So later I’d generally pick up fish and chips or a pizza, or end up in an Indian restaurant with some of the gang.  If I got the early bus back to my little bachelor pad on the outskirts of town I’d maybe get something delivered. But this Friday night was different.

It was Rebecca Ralston, the red head from the marketing department. I seemed to have been bumping into her for the last few weeks. The main offices were at the opposite end of the site to the loading bay but somehow she’d felt the need to come over several times, wanting to talk to me about planning new adverts for the vans, different colour schemes, scheduling printing, application to the vehicles and so on. And this even though the current advertising contract still had almost a year to run.

Not that I minded. She was a bubbly sort of girl, an effervescent personality. Irregular teeth like pushed over tombstones but still easy on the eye. She brought a little brightness into the windowless little office in the dark cavern of the loading bay. She liked to talk with a hand on my arm or my shoulder, making sure she had my attention. And that day she hinted that after work on Fridays it wasn’t unusual for her to find her way to the Sheared Sheep. As it happened it suited her, she said, living close enough to just walk home if she happened to stay late.

Unfortunately, it was nearly eight when I finally got everything wrapped up and made that watering hole. The pub was already in that in-between phase where most of the early evening ‘couple of pints after work’ crowd had already been, drunk their quota, and gone off to catch buses and trains, while only one or two of the genuine locals had as yet made an appearance.  

But Rebecca was there, sitting on the edge of one of those leather sofas they’d refurbished the place with, the typical modern décor reflecting the changing functionality; more coffee shop or restaurant these days than the traditional beer-swillers’ second home.

The sofa was angled towards the door and as I entered she looked up at me under her curls and neatly shaped eyebrows and I could see she already had a glow on. She smiled that girlish crooked teeth smile and raised her hand in a nominal gesture of welcome. The black jacket of her office trouser suit was slung over the arm of the sofa. Her pretty powder blue blouse and black trousers looking fetching.

Two of the new young recruits to Accounts sat beside her. They noticed me as they followed Rebecca’s gaze.  She introduced them as Jerome and Melissa but as I joined them they both rose to leave, even refusing my offer of a round, insisting instead that they had other obligations and had to rush home. But they would be sure to see me around the office – sometime. People from the main office don’t mix much with the van loading fraternity.

Rebecca held out an empty glass saying she wouldn’t mind another double vodka tonic with lemon and ice, and when I returned from the bar the pub was even emptier.  Rebecca made a show of looking around all points of the compass, her short red curls bouncing, before she declared the Sheared Sheep mutton.

‘It’s really dead here, isn’t it?

I nodded and took another swallow before concluding the guest real ale, Crafty Brown Cow IPA was something less than acceptable. It seemed fermented from liquidised mince.

‘There’s another place up off the main road that’s livelier,’ Rebecca was saying, and I’d hardly had time to sit down before she’d grabbed my hand and we were on the move.  

The Hardened Artery wasn’t my usual kind of place but it was certainly busy. A three piece guitar band was playing 50s rock n roll on a tiny stage and there were even young trendy types trying to dance.  I rooted around and managed to scrounge a couple of stools and we proceeded to shout at each other, exchanging inane pleasantries over a medley of Johnny B Good and Hey Bo Diddley.

‘I like your shirt,’ she shouted, making me glance down at my red and blue striped button-down Ben Sherman.

‘I like your blouse Rebecca,’ I shouted back.

‘Call me Becky,’ she insisted.

‘Ok,’ I said, ‘call me Steve.’

 The band were roaring into Promised Land as Becky drew her stool much closer to mine saying she couldn’t hear, and I picked up floral notes from her eau de cologne as she pressed her legs up against mine. She waved her hand around ostentatiously like a fan in front of her face and undid the top buttons of her blouse as she complained about the heat. I felt myself definitely getting very warm too. I might not be quite God’s gift but I was sure I was picking up signals and the sap was rising. I wasn’t wearing a tie I could loosen but I took off my jacket and instead undid a few buttons of my shirt revealing the pecs and heading to the six pack.

Another few drinks in that sweaty room and the long working week was catching up with me. I was dreading the long cold bus journey home and found myself glancing down at Rebecca’s newly revealed cleavage with a certain amount of wishful thinking.

‘After a final couple of brandies we fell out into the cold dark street and, saying how late it was, Becky suggested, as even in my increasingly inebriated state I somehow thought she might, that I spend the night at her place and leave off travelling home until the morning.

After a twenty minute walk, or rather stagger, including various impromptu stops for clinches and kisses, her place turned out to be a bedsit in a big old converted house, part of a street of big old converted houses.  The furnishings were Spartan. A lack of chairs meant I had to sit on the bed while she retrieved a couple of bottles of beer from an otherwise suspiciously empty cupboard.  After she’d applied the bottle-opener and handed me mine she plonked herself down across my knees, draping her arm around my neck.  I only had time for one more sip of beer before her lips locked on mine and we toppled backwards on to the bed.

She was wildly enthusiastic and I wasn’t complaining, but that degree of gay abandon did engender a certain sort of ‘last time before the end of the world’ feeling. It was a long time before I was allowed to sleep.

Afterwards, in the morning, I commented that of the various women I’d known she was unusual in not living amid a clutter of clothes, shoes, accessories, and a jumble of make-up jars and bottles.

She said ‘Well, to be honest, that is usually me too, but I’ve already moved almost all of my stuff to Denis’s place.’

‘Denis?’ I queried cautiously.

‘My fiancé.  I’m moving in to his place after the wedding.’

For a moment I thought, hoped, I’d misheard. But Becky rambled on, unselfconscious and unconcerned. ‘The wedding’s at three o’clock tomorrow. Well, three o’clock today now, of course,’ she said peering at her little bedside alarm clock and giggling. ‘The dress – floor length, dazzling white and lacy - is laid out at my Mum’s, along with all the other stuff.  The cake’s a beauty – three tiers. I’ve got to get to HairWays at eleven. Full hairdo and manicure treatment. I’m going for cherry red nail-varnish to match my lipstick. The make-up will take forever. Sorry, it’s a bit late to send you an invite. But there are still one or two things no-one’s chosen yet on our gift list – I mean, only if you really wanted to…’

‘You’re… you’re… getting married - today?’ I managed to stammer.

She stretched her arm under the bed and brought forth a little box. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said, opening the little box and putting the ring on her finger. She held her arm up in the air to watch the diamond sparkle.

‘And Denis?’

‘Oh, he plays rugby, professional now. And he’s been working nights as a doorman, mainly the Jacaranda Club, - to help pay for the wedding.’

‘Ah... he sounds like a great guy.’

‘Yes, but I’m not married to him yet, am I Steve?  And you’ve got lovely blue eyes and you’re really quite firm and muscular too – it must be helping to load all those heavy boxes. You know the girls up at the office have been talking about you for a while. We like to see your hose on the forecourt. I thought, well, I might as well make use of my last legitimate opportunity. At least that’s what they all told me when we were out on my hen night last week.’

‘Oh really?’ was all I could find to say.

Maybe I looked a little disappointed or pensive because she peered into my apparently lovely blue eyes and bit her lip with her unusual teeth. ‘Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you.’ she said. ‘Steve, you don’t feel I’ve just been using you, do you?’ She burst into a big smile. ‘I mean, it was good fun, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ I had to admit. ‘Really, it was great.  And no, I suppose… I mean, I was as keen as you were… It’s just…’

‘Oh, well that’s all right then, isn’t it?’  Her eyes shone brightly. ‘And it’s only nine o’clock. I won’t be Mrs Denis McGlone for another six hours. We’ve still got at least another hour before I have to be going.’

And as she fell into my arms I tried hard to clear all the frightening images of giant prop forwards and burly bouncers from my mind.    

[emilyplaysotome]

Chapter 14 - Goodbye and Hello

Catch up on all Chapters here:  http://emilyplaysotome.tumblr.com/post/173554646607/down-the-voltage-rabbit-hole-the-sequel-master

“There’s no way it’s him!” Soryu exclaimed, holding the icepack to his cheek.

He was sitting on my couch and had hit the side of his face on the sidewalk when he’d collapsed as his old memories flooded back. Not wanting to make more of a scene than I already had in front of my building I dragged him upstairs and patched him up.

Similarly as I’d done with Hiroshi, I explained everything that had happened, including the fact that he’d tried to mug me on the train. 

He apologized profusely, cursing the king and what had happened as well as reiterating once more that he was, “not the man he once was” despite the fact that it seemed his true nature was destined to be that of a criminal. When I explained that things would be complicated from here on out seeing as how he was now involved with the New York City mafia scene, his eyes drifted down and I saw actual tears start to well up in the gangster’s eyes.

“Seriously? I…I…”

“I know you worked hard to change. I have an idea that’ll fix this but I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

“I’ll do anything to avoid sliding back into the man I once was!”

“Then we’ll ask the king to send you home. Back to the Tres Spades and we’ll say goodbye right now.”

“Goodbye? But…Naomi.”

I could feel myself getting choked up too but I nodded, “I want you to be happy Soryu and I know that’s not going to be here…with me.”

What Soryu didn’t know was that the king had already decided that he would be going back. Like me, he knew that Soryu would never be the man I’d choose and that this “second chance” was only a byproduct of the game I was currently playing. Of course Soryu was hot, and of course I was fond of him and proud of him for turning his life around. It was especially because of that last fact that I knew the king was right when I read the message, “2/6 - time to send this one back to my realm for his own good.”

The mob here was not some otome fairy tale that ended with Inui being sweet and clumsy. The mob here was ruthless and if we weren’t careful the reformed Soryu would quickly get snuffed out for fear that he might rat on his previously illicit activities.

“I want you to know that I still love you,” he said. “I’ve always loved you. And I’ve worked to become the man that you deserve - one who will never make you scared…ever again.”

“Thank you,” I said, gently taking the ice pack from him before I wiped the dirt from his scraped face with a warm cloth. “But I hope that you realize that as you are now you’re a better man than you once were. I might have been the catalyst for you to change, but I sincerely hope that you continue to live this way...for your own happiness. And for a future you can be proud of.”

It was then that my ex-boyfriend, ex-mobster, cold-as-ice Soryu cried like a baby, and I held him in my arms for a good fifteen minutes until he regained his composure. 

When he did, we agreed to spend our last few hours together in good spirits and seeing as how he was Eisuke’s best friend, I figured that I might as well get his take on whether or not he thought it possible that the other king from his realm might be part of my game.

“There’s no way it’s him!”

“You’re positive?”

“I just…Eisuke knows how I feel about you. He’s my best friend and despite what people say about him, he really is a good person.”

I understood what Soryu was saying and I didn’t want to push the idea any further with him. I agreed that it would certainly be surprising if Eisuke was in fact the sixth man, but the way Soryu was dismissing the idea had far more to do with his feelings about me and Eisuke than it did as an objective third party to the situation.

“Just like his best friend,” I replied with a smile as I returned the ice pack to the freezer.

“How does it look?”

“You’ll probably have a bit of a bruise but you always look handsome when you’re a bit roughed up. I’m sure once you’re home the women of the Tres Spades will be falling all over themselves to try and land a date with you.”

A disgusted expression passed over Soryu’s features and I laughed, “You could stand to give more women a try you know…”

“No. You were different.”

“The only thing that was different about me was that you got to know me...as a person.”

He started to reply, then pursed his lips with a slightly confused expression and said, “Explain.”

“You had to get to know me because I was living with you. You initially saw me as a woman and then started to see me as Naomi as time went on…you have to do that with women.”

“But they all like perfume, and dresses, and they only want me for my money and connections!”

“Maybe some, but not all. And you won’t know until you actually have a real conversation with them. Just talk to them like you talk to your friends.”

“But they’re women!” He insisted.

I laughed, “I got news for you Sor, women are people - even in your realm. I know that because I’ve played a teacher, a baker, a police officer…you name it. They had hopes and dreams and opinions and you’d be happy with any of them. Maybe even a maid at the Tres Spades...someone you never noticed before but who is capable of loving you more than I ever could. And you deserve that. This man who worked so hard to better himself…he deserves it.”

His dark eyes looked back at me with a melancholy expression, but he forced a smile and quietly said, “I understand.”

“I’m glad. Be happy Soryu.”

It felt like a natural goodbye and I was unsurprised when a flash of light filled my apartment, revealing the king who nodded at Soryu with a polite smile. It was obvious that since he’d sent that message, the king had been watching me and he looked pleased at how entertaining our goodbye scene had been.

Neither of us fought was about to happen, and Soryu gave me a hug before stoically walking over to the king.

“Are you ready?” The king asked.

Soryu glanced back and I smiled despite the fact that I was crying. When he turned to face the king I caught one last glimpse of those broad shoulders and large back before he was gone.

“I have to say Naomi,” the king said with a smile, “you’re starting to make me sweat a little. Good luck this week.”

The king didn’t wait for a reply from me - he was someone who thrived on the dramatic and that last remark was enough to make me question if he was about to throw a massive curveball my way. Regardless, the day had taken its toll and I was ready for bed.

Seeing as how I had to work out with Hijikata tomorrow before I went into the office, I figured I might as well call it a night despite the fact that it was only 10 pm.

I woke the next day refreshed after a solid eight and a half hours of sleep. I had closed a chapter with not one, but two of the men in this realm and it was time to see how I felt about a third who was a bit of a mystery.

I threw on some workout clothes and ate half of a protein cookie at home and the other half during my walk to the gym, in the hopes of not passing out during what was about to be a strenuous hour. When I entered Edge Fitness, I saw Hijikata waiting for me with a smirk and he nodded in approval seeing as how I’d arrived 5 minutes early to my 8 A.M. workout.

“We’ll warm up with a light 2 mile run today,” he said, leading me to the treadmills after I’d dropped my bags into a locker.

“Ok!”

“Someone’s energetic this morning,” he said with a sneer, “I guess that means I can really go hard on you today.”

“Do your worst!” I said with a smile, though not meaning a word of it.

Hijikata let out a laugh and the second he did I saw this world’s iteration of Shinsaku Takasugi antagonistically drape his arm around Hijikata.

His light brown hair clung to his skin, which was covered in a even sheen of sweat. Standing side by side the two were built very similarly, and their tight attire made that all the more obvious. They both wore shorts that hugged their muscular backsides with Edge Fitness tank tops that left little to the imagination when it came to their impressive chest and arms.

The image felt as if it were something out of a Boy Love manga - a smooth looking, well built man covered in sweat as a slightly grumpier one wore an expression of protest beside him.

“The demon trainer laughs? Who knew.”

Hijikata immediately shook Shin’s arm off of him and snapped, “Get outta here Taka, I’m working.”

Shin didn’t seem to care, and instead he chuckled and used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead purposely giving me a peek at his perfectly defined abdominal muscles. I was feeling painfully thirsty that morning and though he and I didn’t have the best history together (not that he seemed to remember anything from Otento), seeing his abs first thing in the morning left me with a little grin on my face.

“Hey, we haven’t met before - everyone calls me Taka. I’m going to be training you after I retire Tosh,” he said to me with a confident grin.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Naomi,” I quickly said, which only seemed to make Shin smile wider and Hijikata look angrier.

“I’m jealous that Tosh is allowed to train such lovely clients. A demon like him should never be allowed near someone as delicate as yourself.”

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong,” I said with my head held high, “I’m quite strong and you’d be quite foolish to underestimate me based on my appearance.”

The comment caught both men off guard in the best possible way, and I watched as their attention stayed on me and their eyes filled with something in between lust and admiration.

“With that said, it’s already been five minutes into my warm up and I haven’t started so…it was nice meeting you.”

Hijikata smiled triumphantly and stepped up onto the treadmill beside me, away from Shin. 

He hit a few buttons and before I knew it I was running 2 miles at a ten minute pace, which doesn’t sound too difficult but proved to have me panting after a minute or so. Shin left us to it after I started running, though he did say something about looking forward to seeing me around the gym.

I could tell that his comments irked Hijikata and I hoped it was because I was making progress in getting him to see me as more than just a client. That day however, his workout kept me moving at a pace that had me out of breath and barely able to think, let alone seduce.

By the end of our hour, sweat was pouring off of me and I felt incredibly smelly and unsexy as Hijikata used our last few minutes together to help me stretch. I didn’t particularly want him touching me in such a state, but I tried to keep my cool as his hands ran over my calf as he extended my leg.

“Have you been meditating?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied, “I’m really trying to make it part of my routine.”

Hijikata smiled triumphantly, “Checking in with your body only leads to having a healthier one.”

I gave a little nod and Hijikata pushed my leg a bit further, causing me to let out a little yelp.

He chuckled and when I asked why he was laughing he cooly lowered my leg back to the ground and said, “That was cute. Good job today. I’ll see you tomorrow at 7.”

I smiled and nodded, happy that he had remembered that Mondays the company lets us roll in closer to 10/10:30 whereas the rest of the week I try to get in by 9/9:30. It was a small detail that showed he was thinking of me enough to remember something like that, and I made my way to the showers.

Seeing as how I lived a few blocks away, I could have easily gotten ready at home. However, that wouldn’t have let me show Hijikata how cute I looked in my work clothes and so I made the plan to get ready and dressed and say goodbye looking my best if only to put in his head what it was that he might be missing.

The past few workouts he’d seen me looking like a total scrub, and in order to undo that image, I gave myself a sleek blowout and donned a tight black dress that was still office appropriate. 

I was feeling pretty good about myself as I applied a bit of tinted moisturizer to my face and a light coat of mascara on my lashes. Once I felt completely confident that this was going to be the best I was look, I jammed my belongings into their appropriate bag and attempted to walk in the wedges that would soon be exchanged with a pair of flats once I was back home. I planned to drop off my belongings and make the quick swap before heading into work, but I wanted Hijikata to think that I was the kind of confident woman who could rock some wedges that made her legs look amazing.

The second I exited the locker room, I saw Shin and Hijikata arguing about something at the front desk. They were so focused on each other that I worried my hard work would be in vain, so I tried to be as breezy as possible in my approach.

“Thanks for today - I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Hijikata with a smile, hoping that he would be so awed by my beauty that he’d feel compelled to ask me out then and there.

As if my mind had been read I heard a voice call out and say, “Hey - we should go out sometime.” 

I froze at the stairwell hoping that it belonged to the right otome man in the game I was playing but when I turned back, and saw Shin smiling at me as Hijikata stared daggers at him.

“You’re not my client, so I don’t see a problem with it. We can talk about it tomorrow,” Shin said and before I could shoot him down, he walked away.

I stood frozen on the spot, my plan having backfired slightly and to make matters worse I had no idea if Shin was asking me out because he was indeed the sixth man or if it was merely to get a rise out of his rival.

Posting this guy early because I’m prepping for a busy work week! Hope you guys like it :)

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Thanks for reading :)

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