#i love her and I'm glad she came seriously. but why did she have to sit next to me the whole appt

[theirloveisgross]

.

[snixx]

I hate admitting to people that I'm not doing well because they just get so patronizing about everything I should be doing and that's the fucking point I don't have the energy to do anything yeah yeah I get it I'm being emotionally stunted I'm just having a depression it doesn't make me a fucking failure just fucking leave me alone

[vicxss]

Natasha Romanoff x bartender!university student! reader

Summary: You're working to make ends meet and unexpected help arrives

Warnings: smut, fingering, stimulation and penetration

English is not my first language

It was 7 pm when Carol called me in for a shift at the luxe nightclub that was rented for a bachelor party, she strung me along that it would be closed so I would have to wear a jacket, despite being a woman.I ran into Carol and Maria Hill near the bar.

Carol: I'm glad you're here, these people are crazy - she hugs me

Maria: I must agree, I only agreed to come because I need the money - she says, starting to prepare a drink

Y/n: I also came for the money, I need to pay my university expenses, which are not cheap at all - I read an order and start to prepare like Hill

Carol: Come on people, you can't tell me that I only came here hoping to pay someone back - she says and we look at her

Y/n: We only came for the money anyway - I comment and Maria nodsI notice from a distance one of my teachers, Bucky Barnes, he is a Russian teacher but we ended up having disagreements.

I don't like the way he teaches and I bet he doesn't speak any Russian, this broke my expectations since I intended to learn Russian and I am interested in the language.

Carol: I see that you have already noticed Barnes, he came for Professor Tony's bachelor party in mechanics.Here is another area that I don't get along very well, although he is not my teacher, I only see him in the hallways and when I go to my friends' class.

Maria: And that's why he's asking God and the world for drinks, this guy must be rich, seriously, where does a university professor pay for a place like this?

Y/N: Maybe they earn well, I would have to earn very well to work with people from the university.

Carol: that's true, I can't stand to look at people anymore, they make me sick

Maria: Remember what Seth did on Wednesday?

Y/n: he showed everything he didn't have, and he still thinks he is good

Maria: his mother is the real good one - she says and Carol looks at her with disapproval and I just start laughing

Carol: He's never going to stop staring, it's already getting weird - she says referring to Bucky who is staring at us - If looks could kill?

Y/n: We just share the same feeling and I am interested in a better future, I say, rolling my eyes.

Carol: I'm going to deliver these drinks - she says and leaves with a tray of drinks in her hands.

Soon after Hill also leaves to hand out whiskey and I am left alone.I am trying to serve as many people as possible, but I don't know if I should take turns between drinks or handing out beer to the many men who were cursing me to get my attention .With a quick movement, I noticed a woman with red hair pass by the counter and stop beside me. She looked at me, and I could see the green in her eyes that seemed a color I had never seen before. Her wavy hair was reddish-red half copper, and she had a light makeup that highlighted her eyes and mouth.  God, she was beautiful.Shit, concentrate.

Y/n: Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please," I said so she could hear me.

"Show me where the beers are and I can help you deliver them while you prepare the drinks," she said with a husky tone of voice that made my skin shiver.

I pointed to a door behind the counter, and the woman smiled and winked at me. She shook her head with a nervous laugh, and I turned to the counter so that I could take my next order. 10 or 15 drinks, that's what they ordered, I was only satisfied when the group of people returned to the stage where the performance was taking place.I leaned against the counter and noticed the woman looking me up and down, I took the opportunity and did the same. She was wearing a tight black dress, enough to make her breasts bulge, I lost myself and looked at her face again.

Y/n: thank you for your help, Miss...?.- I asked, arching my eyebrows

"Natasha" - she says giving me a beautiful smile and extends her hand I bring her hand to my lips placing a light kiss on the back of her hand, I did the whole movement while looking at her who didn't break the contact.

Y/N: it's a pleasure to meet you Natasha, my name is Y/n.- I smile, taking the woman's handWe hear the wood of the counter creaking, Carol arrived at the place with messy hair and fixing her own jacket, as soon as she notices us she gives me a mischievous smile and takes a tray leaving the place.

Natasha: Finally, what are you doing here?

Y/N: I have come for the money, I have to pay the university fees.

Natasha: I understand, do you know anyone here?

Y/N: Some of them are my professors - I speak and she is surprised

Natasha: gee, ....

Y/N: I know," I laugh, "would you like to go somewhere more private?I ask her ear and see her skin shiver.

She straightens up and walks out from behind the counter to leave, I didn't even have time to be embarrassed since she turned around and nodded. I followed her until we reached a bathroom that I would say was spacious.I pressed the woman against it, the kiss was rough and hurried. My hands went to the woman's waist, leaving a gentle squeeze on the spot.

She broke the kiss to give a soft moan and then pulled me back in. She pulled at every place her hands went, my hair, my neck, my collar, my waist, everything so that we could have more contact.I felt her desperation and grabbed her thighs and supported her on the sink in the bathroom, she intertwined her legs around my waist and I rubbed myself against her making her moan with the contact. I stop the kissing and go to her neck, squeeze her ass and she moans, tilting her head, giving me more access to her pulse point.I take advantage of the position to pull up her dress and take my thumb to her clit covered by her panties.

I noticed how wet the woman was, smiling over her skin I stimulated her clit with circular motions. She let out a moan near my ear, making me moan as well. My body burned just to make that woman moan for me. i pulled down her panties, sliding my fingers over her folds and felt the woman move for more contact. The position may be uncomfortable for me, but it doesn't matter.

A noise coming from the end of the hiding place put me on alert, but I didn't stop the movements, in fact the adrenaline only helped me by increasing the stimulation on the woman's clit. I kissed her to hold back the moans, and she responded in an instant. I felt the woman's body become more breathless and then I began to alternate the stimulation with penetrations over the woman's entrance.

I heard the footsteps and then decided to increase the speed, causing the woman to moan harder on my lips. I penetrated the woman's entrance one last time. Natasha hid her face in my neck to stifle a moan as she came. She bit my neck and sucked, I knew this would leave a mark, but I smiled.

"Cестра, I saw you come in there, we have to go." A voice came from behind the door, she was speaking Russian

Natalie answered in Russian as well but I didn't understand. I took my fingers from the woman and brought them to my lips. She looked at me with fire in her eyes as I sucked on the fingers that had the woman's liquid all over them. I was satisfied when she bit her lips.I helped her down, while she tried to adjust her dress. Straightened her hair, and she pulled my chin to deposit a lingering kiss on my lips. Then she turned, looked at me one last time, and left.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,881 Pairing: Negan x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language (duh), allusions to past violence and flashbacks Summary: Y/N decides Negan has earned just a little bit more freedom. A/N: This is part 2 of a miniseries... lol or maybe not so mini? I'm not sure yet! Slow burn takes time to do well... anyway, first part is linked below! HAPPY WICKED WEDNESDAY! Bad Medicine - Part 1

You came in late that evening. Negan looked up from his book. Something he thought was maybe relief washed over him to see you again, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe he just didn’t want another tense exchange with Daryl… Maybe he was just glad not to be alone.

You slid his tray through the slot and watched curiously as he carefully tucked a torn scrap of paper into the pages of his book to mark his place. “What’re you reading?” you asked.

“Some book Gabriel left me,” he said. “I think I’ve read it five times.”

“What is it?” you asked again.

“Some nautical whaling adventure bullshit,” Negan said, bending to pick up his tray.

“Is it any good?” you asked.

“It was the first time. Maybe a bit the second. But not anymore,” he said with a dry laugh, sinking back down on his cot to settle into his dinner.

“I can bring you some other things to read. What do you like?” you offered.

His hazel eyes shot up to you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Now, why would do that, doll?”

You ignored his use of the pet name and simply shrugged. “Because I’d hate to have to read the same thing over and over and over with no choice.”

“Isn’t that what me bein’ in here is all about? No choice?”

You paused reflectively. “Maybe at first, as a punishment for everything you did. But now—I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m not gonna fuckin’ turn down some new reading material if you’re offerin’.” A mischievous glint grew in his eyes. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any naughty stuff layin’ around, do you?” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “Negan…”

“Honestly, homemade pictures would be even better if you have the means—”

“I’m leaving,” you growled, turning to go.

He laughed heartily and you were surprised that your steps faltered at the sound. “Come on! I’m only kidding! Ish…”

You turned back around and shot him a look.

“Here’s a question: what’s the deal with you and Daryl?” he asked, taking an exploratory bite out of his sandwich.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Seriously? That’s what you want to talk about?”

He shrugged. “Well, this whole Gabe-Siddiq-Rosita love triangle has me on the edge of my seat. Can you blame me for hoping to scrounge up another such juicy morsel? You know I love a bit of drama. It’s a real-life telenovela.”

You rolled your eyes but paced back toward his cell and took a seat in the wooden chair outside it. “Daryl is… I consider him my brother,” you said. “And I’d die for him. He’s family.”

“You sure he knows about this bein’ ‘brotherly’ love?” Negan laughed. “He gave me quite a talking to about you earlier…”

“Considering your past, can you blame him?”

“No,” Negan admitted. “No, I can’t… So, no hanky-panky there, huh?” Negan asked, leaning forward to study your face as if trying to confirm what you’d just told him, still smiling. “Too bad for him… Guy could probably use some, right? Help chill him the fuck out,” he laughed.

You shot him a disapproving stare and he tried to look apologetic with only some success. “Are you through?” you asked, your tone bored.

“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for the meal,” he said. You climbed to your feet, nodding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ll do the same thing. There’s more to do over there.”

“You got it, boss,” Negan acknowledged. “Hey—Y/N—I know I can be an asshole, but I really meant what I said earlier. Thank you.”

You only nodded and gave him a tight smile.

And that was how you and Negan continued, for quite some time. It took you over a week to get the area completely cleared and the rescued medicinal plants transplanted. After that, you ended up having Negan build the new raised beds and help you install them. He could be surprisingly handy when he wasn’t busy cracking jokes and he seemed genuinely grateful for something to do to pass the time. It was surprising how easily the two of you got into an almost comfortable routine. You often were reminding yourself that all you were doing was building rapport so you could help Negan make progress, whatever that meant… It still seemed to be some vague, shapeless idea in your mind, but the thought of Carl and Rick and your loyalty and sense of duty to help Michonne kept you going.

Finally, with that project done, you decided it was time to start venturing outside the walls. Considering how well things had been going, Daryl couldn’t disagree with you anymore, though he did continually feel the need to remind you not to let your guard down. He also requested that you stay close to Alexandria when you ventured out, something you agreed to as sensible, at least to start.

Afterall, if Negan really was to someday assimilate back into this weird version of “society,” this step-by-step, gradual building of trust and rapport seemed like the way to do it.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You lightly tossed a canvas pack at him after swinging the cell door open and he caught it against his chest, giving you a curious look.

“Think you can handle going outside the walls today?” you asked him.

Negan looked surprised. “With careful supervision, I’m assuming?”

“Obviously,” you said.

He nodded, still looking a little stunned. “You trust me enough to take me outside the walls?”

“Enough,” you agreed, cocking one eyebrow.

Negan let out a low laugh. “Alright… What’s the plan then for today, warden?”

You rolled your eyes. He’d taken to calling you that since you’d given him a few stern looks in response to his usual pet names. “Foraging,” you said simply. “We running low on a few things.”

Negan stepped out of his cell with the bag slung over his shoulder, his canteen now stored inside alongside the smaller bags you’d tossed in for keeping gathered ingredients separated. “And I’m serving mostly as the pack mule?” he asked, watching you brush past him closely to swing his cell shut behind him. Was he imagining it or had your hand brushed his arm? Probably imagining it…

“Pack mule?” you repeated. You held up your own pack to show him. “No. I’m gonna collect mine into my bag, and you’re gonna store whatever you find in your own. I’ve been teaching you plants for a couple weeks now. I thought we’d see what you’ve learned,” you explained. “Unless, you’d rather stay here and—”

“No,” Negan interrupted you, almost a little too eagerly. He laughed a little nervously and the sound was deep and had a slightly gruff edge to it. “No,” he repeated, less eager. He ran a hand back through his hair and shrugged. “I’d rather not sit in my cell doing fuck-all, thanks.”

You smiled at him a little and he tried to ignore the way his heart jumped in his chest. Uh oh. What was that? Surely that was just because you were the only woman who’d smiled at him in maybe… six years?

“That’s what I thought,” you said. “Come on.”

Negan followed you through town toward the gate and you both tried your hardest to ignore the not-so-subtle stares. You should have been used to it by now, but whenever you stepped out with Negan beside you, you felt as if you were on display. The man may as well have been wearing a sign advertising his past crimes. There would never be any complete escape from his reputation and past. All you could hope for was a tiny seed of redemption… and some days even that seemed hard.

As you approached the gate, Negan cleared his throat and glanced over at you.

“Hmm?” you hummed, absently waving to Rosita who was on the guard platform.

“So, Daryl was okay with this?” Negan asked and you shot him a weird look.

“What does Daryl have to do with anything? What is your obsession with him?” you asked.

“Uhh—he fuckin’ hates me and threatened to kill me if I tried to hurt you or—do anything he perceives as being out of line,” Negan admitted. “You can see why that’s of slight concern to me,” he finished.

“Makes sense,” you said, not at all surprised. “But Daryl trusts my judgement, so when I told him I thought you were ready for slightly more freedom he was fine with it and so was Michonne. And if we aren’t back by dark, they’ll come looking. They know exactly where we’ll be,” you explained, stepping out past the gate with Negan just behind you. The metallic rattle continued until you heard the familiar slam and clunk of the latch, indicating you were firmly outside the walls. You looked over at Negan and he had a queer expression on his face, his eyes flitting over the scenery ahead. “It’s been a minute, hmm, since you’ve seen outside,” you commented.

He nodded, his hazel eyes finally landing back on you. “Yeah,” he said. He pulled in a deep breath, filling his lungs to the brim and then let it out slowly.

You thought he almost seemed emotional and you again marked the vulnerability you were seeing in him. This Negan seemed far different from the one who had brandished the baseball bat… “Come on,” you said, nodding your head toward the tree line.

Negan hesitated. “Hey, uhh… What if—” he stopped, breaking off abruptly and you gave him a curious look. “Just—I can’t exactly defend myself if shit goes sideways out here, can I? You’re certainly not gonna hand me a knife,” he laughed dryly.

You smiled vaguely. “I’ll protect you, Negan,” you said. For some reason, this made him laugh and your eyes shot over to him. “What? You don’t think I can?”

“No, it’s not that. Not at all. It’s just—bit of a role reversal from my Savior days, isn’t it?”

Your face grew sad, the smile fading, and the look in your eyes grew more distant. “You weren’t a savior, Negan. The only person you were really saving was yourself,” you said decisively.

“I kept a lot of people alive in the Sanctuary before your group showed up,” he retorted.

“Alive?” you repeated, rounding on him. “Alive in the same way we’ve been keeping you alive in that cell. Maybe alive, but not living. How often did you even think about what the lowest of the workers were going through? Scraping for points, wondering if they’d have enough to feed their kids, let alone themselves. I bet you didn’t think of them even once a day. You were too busy indulging in whatever the fuck you wanted.”

Negan’s brow dropped low over his hazel eyes and he looked reflective, as if truly considering the weight of your words. When you started walking again, he followed behind you in silence and you could feel a tension between the two of you for several long minutes. But by the time you started pointing out plants to him, it had diminished.

Negan was a fast learner and it wasn’t long before you both had a few of the small foraging bags full of herbs and mushrooms. You’d only had to correct him a couple times on his identification. (“Not those unless you want to go back to being in your cell all the time, Negan,” you’d said. You scraped your nail down the stem and it suddenly bruised bright yellow before your eyes. He’d flinched and dropped the poisonous mushroom, an easy to make mistake for a new learner. “Fuck me! No, I sure as shit do not,” he’d said, casting an apologetic look at you. You’d given him an encouraging smile and told him it was alright.)

He found himself laughing and shaking his head suddenly, tucking another small bag into the canvas pack.

“What?” you prompted him.

“Just—look at me? I’m out here following you around in the woods picking mushrooms and leaves like a fucking Disney princess. Life is wild,” he said. His hazel eyes were crinkled in a smile and you took in the sparking nature of the light in them and the genuine ease of him just existing in that moment. The salt and pepper in his beard was more noticeable now that he’d been keeping it neat and trimmed again and it wasn’t lost on you that the somewhat slumped posture of his shoulders seemed to have lessened lately.

You sighed and nodded your agreement. “It sure it,” you agreed. “If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be out here with you, I’d have taken it as a threat.” You turned back to the plant in front of you and plucked a few more leaves before glancing over at him again. You were surprised to see that his eyes were still on you. “Do you miss it?” you asked him suddenly. You were still down on one knee on the leaf litter and he was standing above you, his tall, lean frame stretching upwards. An involuntary flash of the line-up suddenly burst in your mind, hot and red, and you nearly fell over, all your breath leaving in a rush. You put a hand down to steady yourself and Negan watched your head drop and your eyes squeeze closed. Your other hand drifted to the handle of your gun, as if you were reassuring yourself it was still there.

“Hey—” Negan said, concern thick in his voice. “You okay, doll?”

You gathered yourself, gulping at the sudden tightness in your throat, and then stood up quickly, nodding. “Yeah. I’m fine. And don’t call me that… I think—I think we’re about done for today,” you said hurriedly, tucking the supplies back into your own pack.

He nodded, his brow still heavily furrowed. “Okay,” he said, his voice unsure. But he fell into step beside you again. The tension in the air had returned. Negan let it stretch for a minute before he broke the silence, genuinely feeling his concern like a tightness across his chest. “You aren’t gonna tell me what that was about back there?”

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. You focused straight ahead instead, and navigated stepping over some fallen wood while you answered. “No,” you said simply.

“Okay.” Negan forced himself to pull his eyes away from you, nodding, and fell silent again. Neither of you spoke on the short walk back to the gate nor all the way back to the cell. You finally looked up and met his eyes again as he handed you the pack he’d had slung over his shoulder, now full of foraged tidbits that would make life just a little bit better or a little bit more enjoyable for many residents.

Negan studied your expression, and he thought you looked sad. There was really no other word for it. His hands slipped into his pockets and he stepped back into his cell just far enough to allow you to close the door, not taking his eyes off you. The bolt locking him in echoed in the space.

“Thanks for your help today,” you said, meeting his eyes one more time.

His brow furrowed even more heavily over his eyes. “Sure,” he said, nodding. “Not sure you should be thankin’ me, though. Probably should go the other way around.”

You didn’t really acknowledge his response, just added his canvas bag to your shoulder and licked your lips nervously. “I’ll make sure you get lunch soon,” you said.

Negan watched you turn and leave, puzzled and frankly a little worried. His fingers curled around the cold iron bars of his cell as the outside door slammed behind you.

Once you were back in the sunshine, you made your way toward the pantry with the bags, with a detour to find Daryl at Aaron’s house. He was just where you expected he’d be, working in the garage.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps and straightened up hurriedly when he realized it was you and perhaps because he sensed something or read it on your face. “Hey,” he drawled, wiping his hands absently on the bandana from his back pocket. “How’d it go out there?” he asked eagerly.

You nodded thoughtfully, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “Good,” you said. “Pretty good…”

His eyes narrowed. “Ya sure?” he prodded you. “Somethin’ happen?” He was already bristling, ready to go punch Negan across the jaw if he needed to.

“Not exactly,” you said hesitantly, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Daryl frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean—he didn’t do anything. I just—I had a flashback,” you said, your eyes growing a bit distant. “To back then. At the line-up,” you murmured, ducking your head and blinking fast to clear away the tears in your eyes. “I was kneeling down, picking tea leaves off this plant and I looked up and he was sort of standing over me and it just—it triggered something,” you admitted.

Daryl looked deeply concerned, the line between his eyebrows deepening. “Was it somethin’ in yer gut? Did ya feel… unsafe?”

“No,” you said, almost urgently, looking up at him and catching his blue eyes again. There was a touch of faint disbelief in your own voice. “That’s the thing. I don’t feel unsafe around him now. It was just something about the angle. I looked up and he was standing there and—” You broke off and sighed again. “I don’t know…”

Daryl leaned forward on his hands on the workbench between you. “Well, it ain’t like all that past shit just goes away,” he said. “I couldn’t do what yer doin’,” Daryl admitted. You gave him a curious look and he nodded. “If I walked him out into the woods, he wouldn’t be comin’ back.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah… Anyway, I just—I hate to ask you…” you hesitated again.

“Ask me,” he said. “It’s alrigh’.”

“Would you mind just getting lunch together and taking it to him? I think I just need a break for a little bit. Or I can ask Michonne,” you added.

“S’alrigh’. I’ve got it. Michonne is busy with the kids. Soon as I finish up in here, I’ll pull somethin’ together.”

You look relieved. “Thank you,” you sighed.

“S’nothin’,” he said. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and you could tell he was on the edge of saying something. “Ya dun have to do this, ya know. If it’s too much—he can rot in that cell for everythin’ he did. Fuck him,” Daryl said pointedly, throwing in a small smirk as he said the last two words.

You had to laugh a little at that. “Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I don’t give up that easily. I’ll be good by the time he needs his evening meal. Thanks, Daryl.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Negan looked up, hesitant, as he heard the outside door open. He was expecting to see Daryl coming in again. He couldn’t stop turning what had happened outside the walls in the morning over and over in his head. He scrutinized his own behavior and yours. He thought through all the conversations… but he’d come up empty as far as any reason as to why you’d abruptly ended the field trip or why Daryl had brought him lunch instead of you. He was annoyed by the tight pit in his stomach. His lunch sat untouched still, right where Daryl had pushed it through the slot into his cell.

But it wasn’t Daryl coming in with his dinner. It was you.

Negan had nearly jumped to his feet before he could stop himself. “Hey,” he said, the same novel dangling at his side. You stopped at the bars of his cell.

“Hi,” you greeted him. You looked down at the still full tray just inside the slot and then back up to meet his hazel eyes. “Not hungry today?” you asked, cocking one eyebrow at him.

He shrugged and took a few steps toward you. “Honestly? I was a little worried I wasn’t gonna see you again,” Negan admitted. His tone wasn’t jesting or sarcastic. “After this morning, you know… outside the walls.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “I see.”

He laughed a little and shook his head. “There’s that therapist response again.”

“Well, do you want this? Or should I save it for tomorrow,” you asked him, looking down at his still full tray on the floor.

“You can save it. I’ll eat my lunch. Less work for you tomorrow,” he said.

You nodded and set the tray aside on the chair outside his cell for a moment. “I have something else for you,” you said, digging into the bag hanging from your shoulder. Negan watched curiously as you withdrew several books. “I raided the library. I tried to pick some things I thought you’d like but—I realized I have no idea what you’d actually like… So. I guessed,” you said.

You gave him an expectant look and he came to the cell door. You passed each book through the bars to him one by one. Negan was highly aware of your fingers being only inches from his. He could have brushed your hand with his if he’d wanted to.

“Thanks,” he said, new books in hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You nodded. “I know.” Your response drew another gruff laugh from him.

“I’ll go put this aside,” you said, collecting the tray again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Negan.”

He hesitated just a moment, gulping at the lump in his throat. “You don’t need to tell me what happened out there… Of course you don’t. You don’t owe me anything. But right before, you were asking me if I missed it,” Negan said. You’d turned back to look at him again, curious. “Do I miss being the fucking King of the Castle?” He paused and his tongue swept out over his bottom lip. “Yeah. I do,” he admitted. “I miss the freedom. I miss people paying attention to me, listening when I fucking talk, getting me whatever the hell I want… But I don’t miss all the bullshit that came with it and what I had to do to maintain that power.”

There was a strange expression on your face and then you sighed. “I guess that’s something,” you said softly. “See you tomorrow, Negan.”

[elaselat]

Repetition

Azriel x reader

Warnings: PTSD, rape, torture, Vanserra's

You and Azriel had always been close, closer than normal friends would be. However, despite this proximity, denial ran deep through your veins.

After all, how could Azriel love you?

___________________________________________________

It was a normal night in the House of Wind, accompanied by laughter and wine. The inner circle, finally together again despite all their hectic schedules, was enjoying each other's company. Happy chatter flittered around the room, undertoned by hope of the final members arrival.

"Rhys, you better have the good wine out!" Was the only warning Rhysand got before she stormed her way into the room, bidding the rest of the circle with a bright smile.

Feyre, ever curious, pinned Rhysand with a glare rivaling yours. "What did you do this time, my conspiring mate?" Feyre attempted to mute her laughter, but when it came to you, she couldn't quite take an argument seriously.

"Well, dearest Feyre, she's unhappy because I had a mission for her," You raised your brows, waiting for him to explain the mission, "..where she has to go to the Autumn Court" Feyre shook her head and merely gave you a smile, lifting the wine glass back to her lips.

You sauntered over to Az, who sat on a couch located in the corner of the room, taking his lifted glass of wine, downing it, and placing yourself on the armrest. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down next to him, "You don't always have to steal people's wine when you're mad at Rhysand, do you?"

You only gave Azriel a grin, to which he sighed and reached for the wine and an extra glass, pouring himself and you a glass.

"So how's everyone doing? I haven't seen you in a while Nesta, and hows the progression on your relationship Elain?" You only had to add a hint of teasing into your voice for Elain to go beat red, giving Rhysand another glare as he opened his mouth.

Chatter resumed, Azriel contently listening to everyone's conversation, only interjecting every once in a while. Everytime you went on your rambles, Azriels spirits would only lift more.

But how could you, a beautiful soul, every love him?

He knew about your past in extensive detail, as you knew his by heart. Despite both of your traumatic childhoods, he couldn't understand how you could see through the "horrible" person he had grown to be because of it.

"Why are you still awake Az? Shouldn't you be resting, you just returned from your mission" Azriel had gone out to the balcony that night, wanting to train for a short moment. His hands had started smarting quickly into the session and he pivoted to observing the stars, although they could never compare to your beauty.

Azriel laughed, turning to you when you sat down on the balcony's edge. "Couldn't I say the same to you? Those bags under your eyes couldn't get much bigger with how much you run yourself ragged"

He remembered the somber smile you had given him, with the muttered excuse that you had tried to sleep, but it was a failed attempt. "Could I just keep you company Az? Unless of course, you'd prefer to go back inside" A sheepish glow had lit you cheeks, but Azriel could never deny you anything.

You had both sat in peaceful silence, until curiosity had overwhelmed your mind, "You never answered my question Az". He had given a long sigh and promised to tell you his story if you told him yours. You had barely agreed, but you cared about Az and wanted to help him, even in a such a small way. So, Azriel told you how his hands came to scar, how they still hurt sometimes and his plans for the night that had been ruined because of it.

You, ever the kind soul, took his hands in yours. "They are a beautiful piece of you Az, they come from your bravery. I just want you to know I would never judge you for this, although I'm glad you murdered you brothers. I understand what this is like, what growing up in such a household means."

At that, Azriel was confused. He knew the details of your life after you moved into the House of Wind, but none of your life details before you had arrived.

Still holding his hands, you swallowed, beginning your story. "When I was younger, my father wanted me to live in the human lands. So, my mother, father, and I lived on the outskirts of a little human village. He had glamored me and general forced me to stay home, unless I was running an errand for him. He had worked for Beron while in Prythian, which accounted to his strange behavior. I, being a curious young child, and my mother who loved all things magical, had tried to teach me magic when I was young. My father was quite angry at this, for it could expose us to the humans. He would only yell harsh things, enough to scare me from continuing any form of magic. Soon after though, my mother became pregnant. I was quite excited to have a younger sibling and my fathers spirits seemed to lift."

You paused for a breath before continuing, "When the time came for my mother to give birth, my father didn't even bother to bring her to a hospital, claiming the humans would kill her and the babe if they found out our identities. So, my dear mother went through the pain at home. She was having issues with the birth and I watched the life slowly leave her eyes. I tried to help her with my minimal healing knowledge, but I was too weak from little practice. My mother passed away that night, and I was left alone with my father. He had convinced himself that I had killed her with my magic. He never spoke this aloud, but I could see this build in his mind throughout the years. I had to assume her duties as a young 5 year old, and that's when my father started hitting me. He was angry, angrier than any man I've ever met. I endured the torment because he was my only living family member, until my first bleed. My father, the twisted man he was whose mind only deteriorated with time, tried to rape me after finding out about my bleed. I, of course, fought back against him but my attempts.... were futile. He told me that if I were to kill his wife and offspring, I should at least fill in for those jobs. That if I were to bear him a child, I would be free. When I didn't bear him a child in the first couple of years, he locked me down in the basement, claiming I shouldn't be wasting my time on other duties and only on bearing a child. My father would send his friends down there from time to time, I would get "customers" during the middle of the day when he was off working. They were the only people who new of my heritage, preferring to fuck a Fae than a human. They would do all sorts of things, leaving me with most of the scars I have now. This continued on for many years, but I never bore a child because of the horrid conditions I was forced in. One day, a drunk "customer" happened to leave the door open. I found my escape then, leaving behind my fathers home. After traversing the land, you found my as I was running from Autumn Court soldiers who recognized my fathers scent reeking over me. He was supposedly a traitor of the Autumn Court."

Azriel was speechless, and had meerly pulled you close to him. That night, when you both retired, he wept.

__________________________________________________________

Azriel was concerned about the mission you were going on, returning to the Autumn Court, even if only to meet with Eris. Did Rhysand not recognize this was a dangerous place for you to be? However, Az reasoned that if you didn't mind going, then it should be alright.

Oh how he was mistaken.

__________________________________________________________

You had winnowed out to the Autumn Court border, taking in the scenery as you traversed it, looking for Eris. He'd sent an urgent letter asking to meet, and despite all your horrors of being here, Rhysand assigned you with this mission.

No one but Az knew of your troublesome relationship with the Autumn Court, and you were certainly not going to chicken out on a mission because of it. Az would think you were weak. As you traversed the border, a rustling sound came from the bushes.

"Now now, there's no need to hide. I know you're there..."

An Autumn Court soldier stepped out from the bushes, weapon in hand. This was not what you had been prepped for. Backing away, you noticed there was not just one soldier, but a sequence of them, all surrounding you.

You barely had the time to call out to Rhysand before everything went black.

(P.S. this is my first time writing, let me know what you think! The next part will be up in a short while)

Taglist (Which may or may not work):

@tele86

[fuckyeahisawthat]

thank you so much for that excellent chani post. i've seen some annoying takes on twitter about how not making her totally devoted and subservient to paul makes her 'unlikeable' and i'm like. buddy. i think that speaks more to how you see women. than anything about her. this chani is very dynamic and interesting to me.

i'll be honest and say i've not read the books. this is me speaking from what i've seen of summaries, but i think giving her a real cause to fight for yet also genuinely loving paul gives her an interesting struggle, and also plays into how the portrayal of the fremen (seems to me to be) more diverse and nuanced. as in, the fremen themselves seem to have more of a push-and-pull to them. the clarification of how different fremen believe differently (the south being more fundamentalist) is a very important thing to include in a movie where you can run into the danger of saying that all adherents to a foreign, islam-adjacent (in coding) religion are all fundamentalists. that can (in less nuanced hands) be a pretty irresponsible thing. so showing that there's also more secular/pragmatic/less dogmatic sectors of the culture seems a pretty good counterweight.

so yeah. this is how i processed it as a movie-goer. and having chani represent that aspect (believing in people over prophecy, action over religion) and having stilgar as the humanized face of the southern peoples (showing that yknow, regardless of being fundamenist beliefs, theyre still PEOPLE with the capacity for love, friendship, honor) makes total logical sense. you're not just "telling" us that there's different aspects to fremen culture, you're SHOWING us by showing different characters who represent those aspects, without demonizing either or turning either into a one-note stereotype.

Thank you! I'm not someone who was a long-term fan of the books before the movie came out (I tried reading Dune as a teenager when I was reading a lot of classic sci-fi but found it too boring) but I did read Dune and Dune Messiah after the first movie came out, both because I wanted to know what happened next and because I wanted to have an opinion on how the movies worked as adaptations.

(book and movie spoilers below and also I basically ended up writing a whole essay in response to this)

My single biggest frustration with the book is that after they arrive at Sietch Tabr and Jessica drinks the Water of Life and becomes Reverend Mother...the book up and skips two years of the story and when we next see Paul he's already got Fremen followers who are ready to die for him and he's in an established relationship with Chani. Oh I was SO MAD when I got to this part. I was like FRANK. FRANK!!!! Did you seriously just skip two years of the most interesting part of your own story???

The thing is, even though I know that Frank Herbert's intention was to write a critique of the idea that oppressed people need an enlightened external (white) savior to liberate them...if you don't provide an alternate explanation for what's happening then you end up falling into some Orientalist tropes anyway. And because, in the book, we don't see the process of how your average background fedaykin comes to trust Paul as a military and political leader, there is nothing in the text to counter the idea that the Fremen are a bunch of unquestioning religious fanatics easily swayed to do violence by belief in a prophecy.

My second biggest frustration with the book is that we're given no reason at all why Chani would fall in love with Paul. While she has some memorable scenes, she doesn't have a lot to do as a character in the book, and she's missing from a whole chunk of the end...because she's in the south...because she and Paul have a baby, Leto II, who's then killed off-page when the sardaukar attack the south. (I'm honestly really glad they cut this from the film, because it never seemed to be given the narrative weight it deserved in the book.)

So you can imagine how happy I was when the Villeneuve movies figured out how to address both these frustrations by tying them together. The fedaykin don't just blindly accept Paul because of some prophecy. They come to trust him because he proves himself as a fighter, and because he starts out from a place of genuine solidarity and humility--which it is possible for him to do because he has no structural power over them at that point. And Chani falls in love with him for the same reason, in that heady environment of fighting side by side for a political cause, and maybe for the first time in a while starting to believe that you can win.

I think the Villeneuve movies improve a lot on what's in the book in terms of how the Fremen are portrayed...when we're with the fedaykin and/or Chani and Stilgar. There we see political debates and discussion and the fact that not all the Fremen think the same way. And we also see little humanizing moments of folks just hanging out, celebrating after a victory in battle and just shooting the shit and being friends.

I do wish the movie had extended this to more parts of Fremen society. If there's one thing I could have added, it would be seeing more of daily life in Sietch Tabr. It makes sense that when we're seeing things from Jessica's POV, she is more distant from and suspicious of the Fremen, seeing them as a force to be manipulated, but I wish we had even one or two scenes of people just being people in the sietch. It felt kind of weirdly empty and not particularly lived-in as a place, and I think they could've easily countered this, with scenes from Chani, Stilgar or Paul's POV, and that would have made it hit even harder when the sietch is attacked.

If there were two things I could have added, I wanted more exploration of the people of the south. Why are they more fundamentalist than the Fremen who live in the north? (We get one line about how "nothing can survive [in the south] without faith" but I wanted more than that.) While I think the movie did a fantastic job of humanizing and differentiating the Fremen we see around Paul, when we get to the south it does backslide a little into "undifferentiated mass of fanatics." Surely the people of the south also have some diversity of political views.

I think there are some interesting threads they could have pulled on in terms of how proximity to direct colonial violence shapes people's ideology. Sietch Tabr is one of the closest Fremen communities to Arrakeen, the seat of colonial control. They have probably had to mount some kind of armed resistance for generations just to keep from being wiped out. I can see that producing skepticism of the prophecy ("well I can't sit around waiting for a messiah but I do have this rocket launcher") as well as resentment at the idea of someone swooping in and taking credit for a struggle that you've put your life on the line for, and probably a lot of people you know have died for. There seem to be some generational differences, too, where young people of Chani's generation put less stock in the prophecy, while the true believers are mostly older. I can see faith in the prophecy coming out of despair--when you've been fighting for decades with no change, maybe you draw the conclusion that only an outside power coming to your aid will make a difference. While the people of the south are still under colonial rule, maybe being generally outside the reach of direct Harkonnen violence (the Harkonnens don't even know they're there) makes the concepts of both oppression and liberation feel more abstract and more receptive to being filled in with Bene Gesserit mysticism. It seems absurd to want more from a movie that's nearly three hours long already...but I wanted more of this.

Still, I do think they managed to improve on a lot of things that frustrated me or are simply dated about the book, while keeping the political thriller/war drama/epic tragedy elements that I think are the heart of the story, and in some cases drawing them out more clearly and effectively than the book did. The best kind of book-to-film adaptation imo is one that has a strong point of view in terms of what the story is About, on a large-scale thematic level, and is not afraid to change individual elements of canon in service of telling that story the most effective way possible in a cinematic medium. While there are always things I want more of, I feel like Denis Villeneuve really, really understood the assignment in terms of the overarching themes of the the story and he delivered so fucking well.

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted. 

Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3

The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly. 

Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with. 

When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley. 

"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake. 

And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.

Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister! 

Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!

Please tell me you're not like him!

You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out. 

Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could. 

He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.

I'm not coming over. 

Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.

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

Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes. 

"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did. 

"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.

"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.

"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton. 

"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.

He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed.

Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"

"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."

"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her. 

"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."

About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton. 

But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.

After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family. 

Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

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

Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice. 

When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice. 

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately. 

Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.

"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.

"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."

Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them." 

"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."

Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."

Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said." 

"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers. 

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

Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.

She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.

Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning. 

Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly. 

She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister. 

She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.

Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place? 

Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock. 

Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me? 

Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.  

Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you. 

Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back. 

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

Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over. 

"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."

"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself. 

"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.

"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.

Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.

"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too. 

"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."

She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse. 

"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him. 

"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.

"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him. 

Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.

"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."

Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him. 

"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.

"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."

"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."

Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."

Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."

Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.

"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for. 

"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."

"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted. 

"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.

"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner. 

So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her. 

He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth. 

Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"

He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up. 

When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched. 

"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her. 

"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on. 

When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk. 

He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples. 

"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."

He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again. 

"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."

"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together. 

Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"

"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him. 

Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.

She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm. 

"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."

"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter. 

His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."

"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him. 

And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair. 

She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."

Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from. 

"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."

"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."

Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."

She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."

"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.

"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?" 

Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this. 

Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."

"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.

"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."

"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes. 

"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"

Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett." 

"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."

Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side. 

"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?" 

"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."

"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"

But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."

"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin. 

"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."

She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.

Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."

"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.

"Thirty two."

"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."

Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."

And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him. 

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

Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 5

@theamuz

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[strom-in-the-sky]

hii i just saw your dazai smut and it means so much to me 🥺

is it possible to do a dazai x afab reader comfort + smut who has small chest is often feels insecure of the way she looks, thinking shes not as pretty as the other girls and had a breakdown in front of him about how she is not good enough and doesnt understand why someone as handsome and desirable as dazai would ever love her?

tysm bby <3

Ahhhhh! Thank you >< I'm glad to hear!!! Thanks for the request! ♡

Warnings/content.

Female user, no y/n mentioned. user is a bit inoccent in a sense. Dazai nickname for women ((Bella, belladonna)), body shaming on user part. User not mentioned as skiny, or plump. (You all pretty never underestimated yourself ♡) breakdown/ poor mental health. Mention slightly of dazai past. Dazai being probably occ. Insecurities. Written by someone who's a virgin and no experience in sex is not actually to the real thing. NSFW under the cut.

Sort ngl.

You were pretty in dazai's eye. Very pretty. For a man sin and dirt on his hand, he found peace in someone, and that lovely person is you. He doesn't even care what type of body you have. Sure, he been around once and awhile paying with other girl's feelings. But yours oh his sweet little inoccent bella. He loves you so much and pretty much shows you it every single day. Many kisses in the morning, secretly making sure you were much better than him. Seriously, this man is broke, but he spends every cent on you to see you smile happy. It felt much, much better than anything else he ever indulged in. Now dazai isn't stupid. He is a very smart man. Many more sometimes than you expect. So when he felt something was off with his sweet bella, he opted for the best option, finding it out himself. Since you probably wouldn't tell him straight up or lie. He could see it, so he opted to get the answers he wanted himself.

"Bella~, I'm heading out to buy us something to eat, alright? I be back in a bit, " he lied but for a good reason "accidently" leaving his wallet on the counter as he made his way out of the bedroom. You were showing, but you till heard what he said. Once you came out, the shower, drying off your skin. You got on your bra and panties before letting a small sigh out. Looking down at your chest. Dazai always said your body was built so wonderful for him. The perfect nature of a woman in his eyes. The doubts started to flood your head. Wonderfully. Just wonderfully. "I wonder what he sees in a woman like me... he is so handsome and wonderful. I'm just a skiny bones.... I don't even have a chest... maybe a more woman with a chest...or ass..mabye, even a skinner waist...." Words leak out your mouth almost like how water did. Oh, but that lovely boyfriend heard it all. His stomach dropped. How could his wonderful Bella think of that! It broke his heart to hear you sniffls but also he loved hearing them when if was onlt for him...oh his sweet bella dod things to his heart.... "He probably doesn't deserve me-" With that, the door was pushed open as dazai pulled you into his arms. He was taller, lanky frame curled over yours as he pulled you back into his chest. "Bella. Never ever think of that again, you hear me. I love you. Do you know what you do to me? You make me... feel whole... don't you ever say if you deserve me. I'm the one who is lucky here." he mumbled into your ears as you cried. God, he hated how much it made him twitch in his pants. As he just wished to bend you over and take you then. But he knew he had to care softly for his precious Bella first.

"Just let me show you how much I love this body of yours~" he didn't even let you get a next word as he sat down on the bed pulling you to his back again making you face a mirror in the shared bedroom. The small, fully body mirror, as he loop his legs to yours to pull them apart. He whispered nothing but sweet words in his ears as his lanky hands ran down your neck to your chest. "You know I like any women, bella~, and well, I don't care if you don't have a chest or a models body. You know how adorable you are when your girls get perked~ like~ ah! There it's~ It looks like someone existed to see me!" His big palms didn't waste time getting the bra off as he tossed it away as he squished your small chest. His figures worked on pinching and twisting your nipples. Chuckling at your face as he watched threw the mirror. As small mewls came from your lips, one hand moved to travel to your neck and hold your head to look at yourself in the mirror when you tired to look away as the other slid down your body over your stomach. "Your belly is so good too~ I just move to rest my head on it, so squishy and nice~ so much hickey i can leave on it~ my sweet bella..." he purred as he titled his head to suck and lick your neck. His hand squished your stomach as his palm almost cover your whole stomach, completely tracing heart shapes to it. His eyes looked at your face as he smirked. "Good girl~ and then his litte pretty cunt. I can't get enough of it." That when it came painfully noticeable. He was rock hard in his pants. He knew what he was doing as he shifted his hips a bit. "Feel it bella? Feel what your body does to me? I can't control it when it comes to you~" he chuckled as his hand traced your pantie line.

"Suck a shame. I got to mess up my pretty girl pussy up~"

I hope this was good >< slightly rushed and I might add more or change more later....

Proof read- nu uh.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter five: called you again

summary: you and carmy try your best to repair the relationship... but it only leads to distance. you both make the mistake thinkin' the other is better of without you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: angst, death, grief, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 3.5k

listen to: supercut - lorde | speechless - lady gaga | call me back - young the giant | called you again - lizzy mcalpine

a/n: while i felt like i was dropping an emotional bomb on you with the last chapter, i didn't know it would have such an emotional impact. i just wanted to share that i write so much from my own experiences -- perhaps why some of the chapters feel so realistic. anyways, thank you for all of your kind words in regards to the last chapter. i didn't want to write the phone call, since after this part, 'make my heart surrender' begins / i write a bit of it in that story / it really made for a spicy dramatic ending.

on another note: it's me, hi! i broke my own heart writing this. high key like... i feel like i'm going through a breakup right now (i'm not). the next part will be a big time jump: it takes place after right after 'make my heart surrender' ends, where reader has just moved to chicago for carmy so you'll be glad to hear that i'm done hurting you and myself.

read: chapter four

April 2022 

“Seriously, Carmy. I can’t thank you enough. You really saved the day,” Maya harps, reminding Carmy for the 100th time today that he single-handedly saved Passover. 

“It’s nothin’ really,'' Carmy mumbles with a shrug. “I’m uh… gonna finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Sure I can’t help?” Maya asks, giving him one last chance to say ‘yes.’

“No, it’s all good. I got a whole system,” he explains, a reassuring look in his eyes. 

“Of course,” Maya replies, bowing out of the conversation. 

She walks through her home towards the open double terrace doors that lead out onto the patio. You’re outside, shifted to one side of the large outdoor dining table, your focus unbroken as you stack empty plates, one on top of the other.

“Hey,” you say to her, a warm nostalgia about the way the spring air kisses your bare shoulders. 

“So… Carmy really came through,” she starts, watching you for your reaction. 

“Yeah, he did,” you reply simply, as if it’s just fact.

Maya half expects for you to say more, but she knows it’s been weird between the two of you since you slept together. She’s not sure why, but she’s always rooted for Carmy. Perhaps because you light up every time he’s around – every time you talk about him. Perhaps because she sees the way he looks at you, especially when he thinks you’re not looking. Because, even though he’s deeply imperfect, you’re good for him – and he, you. 

“It’s all for you, you know,” she says, growing bolder in her reminder. 

Her words stop you in your tracks. You stop working on the pile of dishes you’re creating, taking a moment to look up at your friend. 

“Why do you think that?” you ask quietly. 

“Because he took the night off to be here,” she answers, checking to make sure Carmy isn’t listening. “I mean, when have any of us seen him take any time off? He’s not doing it for me. I just think… it seems like he’s really making an effort to mend things.”

You nod slowly, processing what she’s just said. Carmy, in an effort to try to mend things, had joined you for a drink with some of your mutual friends from the restaurant. As Maya had lamented about the caterer falling through for her Passover dinner, he’d more than eagerly offered to step in, surprising all of you. 

“Maybe,” you shrug, trying not to get your hopes up. “I don’t know. It’s still not the way it used to be.”

“Well of course it’s not!” Maya exclaims with a laugh. She sighs out your name, shaking her head as she continues. “You guys are… of course that would change things.”

“I think it’s just going to take a while…” you explain, your voice soft. “I uh. I should take these in.”

You collect your pile of dishes, heading back inside into the kitchen. You know you’re avoiding having the conversation with Maya, but the distance between you and Carmy has been so tough on you. It wasn’t until you took some space from him that you realized just how big of a part he’d been playing in your life. And now, he was grieving, and you’d both crossed the line that had complicated things. 

It all just felt… messy. 

As you enter the kitchen, you see Carmy standing there. He’s staged the kitchen for the most efficient dishwashing: one half of the sink is filled with to sanitize, the other to rinse, before loading up the dishwasher. You place the first stack of plates down on the kitchen island, making a sound that doesn’t even seem to grab Carmy’s attention. He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t acknowledge the sound, so you decide to keep moving things in from outside instead. 

You’ve managed to get all of the dirty dishes from the terrace into the kitchen, Carmy giving you a nod as he’d instructed you to place them down on the counter for him. 

You put your focus on packing up leftovers in deli containers and making sure all the food that needed to be has been put away. Carmy’s loaded up the dishwasher but he’s got at least a dozen wine glasses that he knows need to be hand washed. You notice that he’s taking a break, pushing yourself to ask him, as if it’s going to be your only chance to.

“How are you?” you say, instantly regretting it as the words come out of your mouth. 

He shrugs, unsure of how to answer the question, leaning up against the kitchen counter. You think it’s the only answer you’re going to get as he crosses his arms across his chest. You continue packing up the equipment that you and Carmy have brought over, while he manages to steal a few glances when he thinks you’re not looking. 

He’s not sure what to say. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know how he feels about it. 

But something inside him is begging him to tell you – as if telling you will give him some kind of resolution. Like he’ll know what to do. Like telling you will bring him the comfort he’s so desperately been craving. 

He opens his mouth to say something, noticing that you’ve kept yourself busy – almost as if you’re trying to stay out of his way. 

He hates this. 

He hates that you feel you have to tiptoe around him. 

“Mikey left me the restaurant,” he confesses, the words tumbling out of his mouth like five hundred pounds of bricks. 

“Oh wow,” you gasp, taking in what he’s said. 

He nods, pausing before he speaks again. And it’s the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone:

“I think it’s time for me to go home.”

You don’t say anything back, because you’re not sure what to say back. You know he hadn’t gone home for the funeral, despite your insistence.

Why now? What did this mean? What would this mean? And when did he find out about the restaurant? You can’t help but feel like everything's falling apart, like this is the end. While you know he has to go home – you’re honestly surprised it’s taken him so long to come to this conclusion – it’s impossible not to feel your heart shattering into pieces. 

Carmy was going to leave. You were going to stay. And you didn’t know where that left the two of you. 

“Can I help – with the wine glasses?” you ask, focusing on the task at hand. 

Focusing on the glasses may be the only thing that keeps you from crying. 

“Yeah,” he nods, and you know it’s his way of trying to connect. 

You work quietly, the only sounds in the background are the dinner party playlist that’s playing on a loop through the home’s speakers. You wash and Carmy dries, knocking out the remaining dishes that need to be hand washed, before packing up to go. Maya, of course, thanks Carmy again and again, while her partner, Patrick, compliments the meal, letting Carmy know he’s got to get some cooking tips from him. 

As the two of you walk out of the door, brown paper bags loaded up with empty delis and equipment that you brought over to the house, Carmy stops before either of you can go your separate ways. 

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy asks you, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

You nod, “Yeah.”

May 

Hope you’re doing okay. How’s home?

It’s about the third text you’ve sent to Carmy since he left New York. After letting you know he’d made it safely, you hadn’t heard from him at all. Sure it’s only been a couple of weeks, but it’s like as soon as he let you know he’d made it safe, he’d cut you off cold. To say that you’re angry would be an understatement. 

You’re really fucking pissed off. 

And you also know that underneath all that anger, is a fuck ton of hurt that you’d really rather not acknowledge – that you’re not ready to feel yet.

You don’t know how he’s able to turn it off – just pretend that the last two and half years haven’t been significant. That you haven’t practically been attached at the hip since the lockdown. That you’re not best friends who also just so happen to maybe be in love with each other. 

Somehow, Liz has coaxed you out after a long night at the restaurant for a round of drinks with your coworkers. Something about a need to blow off some steam. Only a round has turned into many, and you just might have had one too many to forget about the searing pain you feel when you think about the fact that you may never hear from Carmy again. You’re waiting for your next drink at the bar, making a mental note that this has to be your last. 

“How’s Berzatto these days?” you hear a voice ask, turning your head as you realize someone’s joined you at the bar. 

“Uh.. yeah, I think he’s been really busy. You know… with the family restaurant. Getting adjusted, you know?” you lie to Nate, pretending that you’ve been in contact with him. 

Nothing would sting more than to admit to Nate fucking Walker that Carmy’s ghosted you. 

Nate laughs cooly, with a shake of his head. 

“He hasn’t called you, has he?” he asks. 

You don’t answer. But your silence is the only answer Nate needs to confirm his suspicions. 

“Listen, can we just talk about something else?” you dismiss him, watching as the bartender returns with your drink. 

The rest of your friends have started a game of pool, but you’re not in the mood for it tonight. Nate asks you to sit, so you do. You hate to admit it, but the attention feels nice, especially with how much you miss Carmy. It burns in your chest tonight, leaving you breathless. You’d rather be numb than feel this much pain. 

You’re not sure how the conversation turns back to Carmy after an hour or so of conversation with Nate. Even though you said you didn’t want to talk about him. Even though you can see that Nate’s tired of hearing about him. You can’t help yourself when it comes to Carmy. Every little thing reminds you of him, and he just keeps coming up like word vomit. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about him,” Nate reminds you. 

You shake your head, “I don’t!” 

Nate shoots you a look, before shaking his head, making sure to polish off the last of his drink. 

“He’s an idiot,” Nate scoffs with an eye roll. 

“Don’t say that,” you relent. 

“I mean it. He’s a fuckin’ idiot!” he exclaims again, turning much more serious. 

“Nate!” you protest lightly. 

“I mean it,” he repeats himself, holding piercing eye contact with you. 

Nate waits a beat, his eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes as he leans in, lowering his voice. 

“He couldn’t even see a good thing when had it,” he croons, leaning in towards you. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you just want to feel wanted, but you feel woozy – hazy, you’re head spinning with lust as you contemplate kissing him. 

“Not even when it was right in front of him,” he adds, his lips so very close to yours. 

Nate’s always been good looking. Your eyes flicker to his full lips and deep brown eyes as he towers over you from where he sits, knowing that he wants to kiss you. He’s just the kind of guy that knows he’s good looking – something you find terribly annoying. 

“You’re so beautiful. I’m sorry that he can’t see it,” he practically whispers against your lips, so close that all the blood rushes to your head. 

It just feels good to be wanted, to be seen. So you surge forward, closing the gap between you. As you press your lips against his, you can feel Nate smiling into the kiss. He’s a smug bastard, but tonight, you don’t care. You entertain the kiss for a little longer. At this point, you could care less that you’ve garnered the attention of some of your coworkers, that you’re just making out with Nate fucking Walker out in the open for everyone to see. 

“You wanna go somewhere else? My place is around the corner,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“Sure,” you agree, you breath catching in your throat. 

“C’mon,” he encourages you, with a nod towards the door. 

Revenge, or the last of your gin cocktail, burns in your throat as you make a deal with the devil, following Nate out of the bar. 

June

Carmy’s phone buzzes again, catching his attention as he takes another drag from his cigarette. He’s got one missed call from Sugar, a voicemail, and a text with a link to that meeting she won’t stop nagging him to go to. He’s just about to put his phone back in his pocket as it buzzes again. 

He looks down. 

Shit. 

Fuck.

It’s a text from you. 

His heart stops beating for a moment, just for a second, and he freezes. 

Came across this article in the New Yorker about denim & rock n roll. Made me think of you. 

Carmy’s eyes scan over the title: From the Working Class to a Fashion Statement: John Lennon, Elvis Presley, & Other Icons That Brought Denim to the Mainstream. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s been so focused on the restaurant, so focused on fixing it, that it’s been easy to compartmentalize, push any thought of you out of his mind. But as his thumb hovers over the article, daring to open it, he can picture it all so vividly. His head is filled with the image of you walking down Bowery, a few paces in front of him, clad in your favorite denim jacket of his as you tell him to ‘hurry up.’ 

And just for a moment, it feels so real. He can practically smell the New York City air. He can hear your laugh as you bump into him in the small walkways of each mom-and-pop dumpling shop. He can almost feel your skin brush against his as you scoot by him on the way to your table.

It becomes harder to push the thoughts of you out of his mind, the sobering reality that it’s been at least a month and a half since he’s talked to you. 

She’s better off without me. Without this. Without all of this chaos, he thinks to himself. 

He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t been in touch on purpose, and he had to admit, it was killing him. There were days where all he wanted to do was call you, ask how you were doing – days where the only thing that would bring him comfort was imagining you running your fingers through his hair while he bitched about the restaurant. Days where he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with you while you forced him to watch some violent action movie, and he’d watch you in awe. He’d call you a psychopath, when in reality, he was just in shock that someone like you could want to be around someone like him. 

Carmy wonders if you miss him – if it’s killing you too. 

But he doubts it. 

You’re a fucking mess, he thinks to himself, coming to conclusion that you’re better off without him. Without all of this… mess… grief… chaos. 

What would he even say?

Sorry I'm such a prick.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here.

I love you.

It becomes progressively easier to push his thoughts of you out of his mind, as he hyper-fixates on what needs to be done today: outsource bread, read over Sydney’s report because she’s probably right about the budget…. And what the fuck is KBL electric anyways? 

Now that the impulse is gone to text you back, Carmy shoves his phone into his pocket, shaking his head as he finishes his cigarette and reminds himself again:

You’re better off without him.

August 

“I don’t understand,” the exec chef says to you, his voice monotone. Something wild stirring behind his eyes in response to the notice that you’ve just given him. 

“My heart’s not in it,” you explain, hesitantly. “And I know you accept nothing less than perfection. I just… need some time to figure things out.”

“You’re not going to find another job like this,” he reminds you, coldly. 

You nod your head in response. You thought he’d say that. 

“I understand, chef,” you reply, using your tone of professionalism in your voice as a barrier. 

“I told her we could reevaluate in a month. I’m open to a rehire, should after your sabbatical, you come to the conclusion that here is where you need to be,” the head pastry chef adds. 

Sabbatical. 

Your head pastry chef is the only one using that word, as if they expect that you’ll come back. As if this is just a break. 

But it’s not a break to you. It’s a much needed change. 

Your exec chef thinks it over, his lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“You’re an exceptional pastry chef, but your lack of commitment worries me,” he states plainly. “You’ll have to interview again.”

“I understand, chef,” you repeat yourself. 

The conversation goes like this: you keep your cool, wanting nothing more than to get the conversation over it. It’s a daunting thing – quitting your dream job – enough as it is. Your head pastry chef fights for you, while the exec chef continues on his ego trip, as if you’re not sitting right in front of him. It’s not hard to tune him out. There’s a feeling inside of you, something telling you that you won’t be back, so the hoops he’s creating for you to jump through don’t seem to matter. 

Your feet hit the pavement as soon as the conversation is over, and you can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. Dinner service prep had already begun, and as you’d left, you understood there would be questions, rumors, strange looks from your coworkers. But you knew this was right. 

Your heart hadn’t been in it for a while. 

Not since it left and moved to Chicago and decided not to call you back. 

You feel lost. 

It’s not just Carmy. It’s not just the big changes and shifts you’re experiencing. It’s everything. You don’t know what the hell it is you want. And you’re brave enough to go searching for it. 

You want nothing more than to call Carmy, to send him a text, for him to yell at you for quitting the job you both held in such high regard and tell you that you’re making a mistake. But the sting of the last time he ignored your call a few weeks ago stops you from picking up the phone.

Maybe he was only meant to be in your life for that chapter. 

Maybe, as you leave the restaurant behind, you’ll be able to let go of him too. 

Soon-To-Be Fall 

It had only been a few weeks since you’d quit the restaurant, in those few weeks, for the first time in a long time, you were at peace. You’d gotten loads of calls and texts: a ‘just want to check in’ from your head pastry chef, a ‘you doin’ okay?’ from Tim, and a series of ‘can’t take no for an answer’ texts from Nate that you have no plans to answer. 

The past few weeks have been filled with quiet. You’re enjoying your time, and you’re doing a whole lot of thinking about what it is you really want. You spend your Tuesday afternoon deep cleaning your apartment and listening to some of your comfort albums. It feels good to get to live slowly for once. It’s soon-to-be-Fall, even if the heat seems to be sticking around in New York City as of late. 

You hear a ping coming from your phone as you close up the container filled with sanitizing wipes that you’ve been using. Making your way over to your small studio kitchen, you see a text from Liz. 

Liz: I have the day off. Drinks & catching up?

You: Yeah. 7 pm?

Liz: Perf. I have restaurant goss. 👀

You chuckle in response to her text. Just as you’re preparing to type out a response, your phone buzzes again as a call comes through. 

‘Carmy.’ 

Carmy is calling you. 

Holy fuck.

It’s as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you have to try not to drop your phone. As it continues to ring, for a split second, you think about not answering. What if you didn’t? Send him to voicemail just like he’s done to you? But your curiosity gets the best of you as your thumb hovers over the ‘answer’ button. Had he heard? Was that what this was about? 

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little. 

And it’s as if all your troubles melt away as you hear his voice.

“Hi,” he replies.

a/n: hello! yes, by popular demand i'll be writing the phone call as a drabble. however, my first series i wrote about carmy, 'make my heart surrender' picks up right where this chapter leaves off. chapter six will take places after that story, so for those of you that have not, feel free to read it while we wait (w baited breath of course) for the final chapter of this one.

read: chapter six

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery @strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn

[charon-cries]

we're lucky Lestat de Lioncourt doesn't have tumblr, the drama he'd get into on here would be wild

#is this anything #he'd probably get cancelled instantly #also side note for future reference #i'm making this post before season 3 #so if anything in this is incompatible with amc canon #that's because i'm working off of seasons 1 + 2 and the books #okay ty have a nice day

32 notes

🎧 audiofilled Follow

ANOTHER of my mutuals went missing after buying a backstage pass to a vampire lestat concert. she didn't post pictures, nothing, and she's been radio silent since her last post (which was about how she was about to go backstage...) and i really think we should be taking this more seriously. so.

reasons why i think "lestat de lioncourt" may be running a cult or something:

Keep reading

🐺 the-vampire-lestat

Absolutely ridiculous. I am very open about what I am, you do not need to resort to senseless conspiracy theories to figure out where your little friend went.

🎧 audiofilled Follow

are you incapable of dropping the vampire bit for ONE moment? people are going MISSING and you're still doing your corny roleplay bit?

#discourse #TVL disappearances #callout

362 notes

📚 daniel-molloy

It's day number seventy-three of surviving this God forsaken website solely to keep tabs on Lestat's social media presence, and I'm still trying to decipher the lingo you people use here. What the Hell does, "I'm bald," even mean?

#the vampire lestat

137 notes

🪽 arun-rising

Did anyone else notice Lestat only posts during the night, in whichever timezone he's in while on tour? True commitment to the bit. Or the bite, I suppose.

🩸 carmillized

weren't you posting about how much you despise his music just yesterday???

🪽 arun-rising

I don't know what you're talking about. I never did that.

🩸 carmillized

You are correct. I believe you without question. I do not even know why I said that in the first place. I do not recall you posting about Lestat de Lioncourt before this.

#sorry OP i was out of line #now that i'm thinking about it though #this post is making me wonder if lestat could be a real vampire #i hadn't seriously considered it until this very moment #something came over me... #wonder why

40 notes

🐺 the-vampire-lestat

New song.

Listen, if you dare.

📷 disintegrated-wonder

Lestat, I thought we were over this...?

#louis talks

893 notes

🧷 baby-jenks

Wouldn't it be wild if we all just spontaneously combusted? Haha. Glad that will never happen

#fang gang #vampblr #random thought #it's unlikely

4 notes

👴🏻 marius-official Follow

How does this website work...?

🦇 fang-fan

delete your blog

#rank vibes on this man

1,425 notes

🐾 interview-wolf-the-werewolf Follow

Sponsored with Blaze 🔥

Check out my new book. It's a biography, about me, written by an award-winning journalist, chronicling my life as a werewolf. It's 100% factual and real, a real breath of fresh air in a world filled with fiction attempting to pass itself off as reality.

#iwtw #my posts #my book #me #werewolf #wolf #awoo #please i need to feed my litter of twelve #this book is all i have

5,762 notes

🩸 carmillized

hey all! i know that my mutual, audiofilled, is a little bit divisive in the music fandom rn, but i'm getting a little worried. i haven't heard from him since he made that post speculating about where TVL fans have been disappearing to. please send me an ask or a dm if you've heard from him!

#talk tag #getting a little worried #he's probably okay though

47 notes

🐺 the-vampire-lestat

Just had a lovely dinner. It's nice when your food is in tune with you, yes? Makes the blood sit well in the veins.

🦇 fang-fan

ur so funny

#edit: sorry for posting while audiofilled is missing #i didn't hear about it until just now

1,409 notes

🩸 carmillized

okay i just can't get over how he talks about himself. i don't know if it's just him being "in character" or if this is just how the guy acts irl, but he's so self-aggrandizing that i've been questioning it

no nuance/bald/other, you have to decide on the spot right now what you believe

📚 daniel-molloy

He's lying.

👩‍💻 talamascized-witch

I don't believe him for a second.

#archive #poll #lestat de lioncourt

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 25]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.1K

It was cliche but you and Yunho decided to end the day on the ferris wheel. Both your fingers were still laced as you stood in line, it seemed to have become the new normal. Your other hand was wrapped around Yuyu.

"Watch your step." Yunho cautioned as you stepped into the cabin. The operator tipped his hat at the both of you with a smile and closed the door.

"Did you have fun today?" Yunho asked as you stared out into the night sky and the ground that was slowly becoming further away.

"Yeah..." You replied, an indication that you weren't 100% paying attention to what Yunho was asking.

"(y/n)?" Yunho called softly. You finally turned your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. Although your face didn't show it, Yunho could see the swirling emotion in your eyes.

"I know we're taking things slow. But... you can tell me anything, okay? As much or as little as you want." He said, searching your eyes seriously.

"Okay." You chewed your bottom lip, turning your head to stare back out at the rest of the lit carnival.

"I used to love the carnival... My mom made sure to bring me every year and we would spend the whole day here as a family. When she got sick, we couldn't come but she promised me that we would come back. But then she just got sicker and sicker... So I never came back." You said, in a soft voice but Yunho heard you.

"The carnival used to bring me such happiness, reminding me of all the good memories I had of my family. But at some point, it started to remind me of my mother's sickness." You confessed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suggested coming here..." Yunho said, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"No... don't be sorry. You wouldn't have known, Yunho. I don't blame you, it's all on me." You faced him again, tears swimming in your eyes.

"Don't cry." He reached up to wipe a stray tear off your cheek.

"I'm glad we came, you've rekindled a love of mine for the carnival, one that I thought died along with my mother a long time ago. You've rewritten the happy memory." You gulped.

"I hope to always give you happy memories." Yunho said, pulling you to his chest to hug you tightly

"I'm sorry..." You said against him.

"Listen, there's nothing for you to be sorry about." Yunho hugged you tighter. He didn't know that your mother was sick and died. Looking back, the way you spoke of her with such fondness, he should have picked up on it a lot quicker.

"Yunho, there's so much more I want to tell you... But I'm scared that I scare you away." You told him honestly. Yunho pulled away, holding your cheeks in his hands, thumbs still wiping your tears.

"I won't be scared, (y/n). Not of you and who you are. Take your time, there's no rush. You don't have to tell me everything now."

"Thank you, Yunho." You whispered.

"We have all the time in the world. Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it musn't have been easy... I'm sure your mother was a lovely person." He smiled softly.

"She was. And I know that if I introduced you, she would have loved you." You laughed.

"Why? Tell me more about her." Yunho encouraged, showing his earnest and genuine curiosity to learn about her.

"She's the reason I got into cooking and that I love food. Seeing how happy she was in the kitchen, it inspired me to be happy cooking and to make others happy with my food. She loved people who could eat, that's why she loved feeding Seonghwa. I know she would have loved to cook for you." You said.

"So you've been cooking with her since you were young?"

"I guess so. Things were different for me as a kid, it wasn't a normal childhood. Being close to her, cooking with her, gave me a sense of normalcy." You explained.

"That's nice, I can imagine little you in the kitchen, learning how to cook." He giggled.

"I could barely see over the counter top. Always needed my step stool everywhere so I pushed it to where I needed it." You chuckled.

"If you're such a good cook now, I can only imagine how amazing her food must have been." Yunho said with a big grin. You nodded in agreement.

"Until today, even though I've worked in so many restaurants, she is still the best cook I've ever met. While she didn't do all those fancy elements, she knew how to make the best dishes with the ingredients we had." You said fondly at the memory.

For the rest of the ride, Yunho tucked you under his arm. You briefly told him stories of your mother, how she was as a person up until her passing. He listened intently, not interrupting you once at all.

"Sorry, today was meant to be happy and I really wanted to end off on a happy note." You sighed, frustrated with yourself.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for. I'm grateful to have learnt more about your mother and you." He smiled.

"Come on." Yunho held you as you stepped off the ride. You were shy, your face puffy and red after crying so he let you hide your face in his jacket as you headed to the exit.

Looking back at the carnival just as you exited, a small smile formed on your face.

"I'll be back." Your words were barely audible as you closed your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you walked away with Yunho.

During the stroll back to the car, you were a bit more relaxed since it was dark and no one could see your face after you cried. But Yunho still held your hand, a silent assurance that he was there. You appreciated that, considering how shaky you felt and Yunho being there prevented you from breaking down.

"Are you hungry?" Yunho asked as you both sat in the car, he turned on the heat slightly so you wouldn't be too cold from the breeze of the beach at night. You nodded your head.

"Drive thru?" He suggested. You nodded again and he smiled excitedly, driving to the nearest fast food drive thru.

"Fried chicken burger for me, please. Change the mayo to spicy aioli and more pickles." You ordered.

"Curly fries?" Yunho confirmed. You gave a thumbs up. As Yunho pulled up to the drive thru window, he lowered his window and gave the order to the staff.

"Just hand the bags over to me as they come." You said when Yunho went to the food window.

"Good evening. Thank you." Yunho received the bags of food and the drink cups, handing them to you as he paid. Once that was done, he drove to the parking lot so you could both eat. You laid napkins over the console so the grease wouldn't get everywhere.

"This is yours." You dug through the bag and handed him his double cheeseburger. You put yours on your lap. Although, you were surprised to find another cheeseburger inside that wasn't your order.

"Whose is this?" You asked.

"In case I get hungry later..." Yunho said, clearing his throat in embarrassment. You laughed and put the burger back.

"Just give me the fries." He mumbled, putting the fries on the middle console, over the napkins, so you could share it. You unwrapped your chicken burger and began eating.

"Here. Have a bite." You held your buger out to him. Yunho stared at you for a second before taking a bite.

"The sauce is good. But you eat way too many pickles." Yunho laughed as he chewed.

"Hater." You scoffed, eating a fry.

"Hey! You were the one that taught me about how important it is to balance flavours in food, that whole flavour triangle thing." Yunho protested with a whine. You were surprised he remembered that, you had just mentioned it in passing during one of your ramblings as you were cooking.

"You remember that?" You asked.

"Yeah, of course. I remember a lot of things, especially the things that you say." He blinked as if it was the most obvious thing. You pursed your lips, looking away in embarrassment.

"Eat your sandwich." You mumbled. Yunho laughed, leaning over so he could tap your temple with her forehead.

"Yes, ma'am." He continued eating, a cheeky smile on his face. Doing this with Yunho, it was that normalcy you used to seek as a kid.

"So the others and I were discussing, we've been seeing other restaurants bring in customers by doing a theme night. But instead of outwardly themes, we were thinking food themes." You said.

"Food themes? Like pasta night?" Yunho tilted his head.

"Yeah. Pasta night, dessert night, that sort of thing. Or it can go by countries like Japanese night, Indian night." You nodded.

"That sounds interesting. It would make for good marketing. We should discuss it with the rest tomorrow after the morning shift. See what Yeosang and the others can come up with." He smiled. Yeosang and Mingi managed the restaurant's online accounts.

"But I hope doing that doesn't add on to the workload for you guys. You already have a lot to do considering how small the team is." Yunho quickly added.

"It won't, don't worry. Contrary, it might make things easier since we're centering around a theme." You assured.

After you both finished your food and cleared up, throwing the trash at a nearby trash bin, Yunho drove you home. Even if you didn't invite him into the house, he insisted on walking you to your door.

"Goodnight, (y/n). I'll see you tomorrow." Yunho wished. You nodded with a hum.

"Thank you for being patient with me." You squeezed his hand.

"There's no need to thank me, (y/n). Like I said, we have all the time in the world. There's no rush. I'd rather wait than make you feel pressured." He smiled softly as he looked down at you.

"You're too nice." You let out a small laugh.

"That's what you do for the person you like." He confessed. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Yunho suddenly leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. His gesture made you close your eyes too, savouring his close proximity. You swore your heart almost jumped out of your chest.

"Goodnight, Yunho." You smiled when you pulled away. Yunho nodded, reaching out to pat Yuyu's head. He waited for you to enter the house before walking away.

Once again, Yunho told you that he liked you. There was no doubt that you liked him too. But your fears made you hesitate. It wasn't that you didn't trust him, your heart just wanted to protect itself.

"(y/n). You're back." You weren't expecting to see Seonghwa emerge from the hallway.

"Oh, you're still here. I thought you went home after I left." You said, removing your shoes and putting your bag aside.

"I did. But then I remembered that Yunho was bringing you to a carnival and came back to wait for you. Wanted to make sure you were okay." He said.

"I'm fine, Hwa. Don't worry." You smiled tiredly, knowing he was trying to approach the subject cautiously.

"I didn't tell him everything but since he already knew that she passed away, I told him more about my mother and my memories of the carnival. How she couldn't take me because she got sick and how it became a place I grew to hate. " You looked at him, slumping onto the couch.

"And?"

"Hwa, it's Yunho. Of course he was nice and understanding about it. Comforted me and asked me more about my mom so he could get to know her through my memories." You sighed.

"Mmm, Yunho would be nice about it. How about you? Did you feel better after telling him?" He sat beside you.

"I think so. It was scary, not that I don't trust him or anything. I don't know." You couldn't really form the words to explain what you felt.

"You're scared of being vulnerable around him. That starting to share yourself with him means you're showing everything of you." Seonghwa said. You nodded your head.

"It's okay." He sat up, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you against his chest like you were a fragile baby bird.

"And I feel bad that he's so patient with me, everything is happening on my terms and it makes me feel so selfish. He knows all the right words to say to make me feel better but I can't do the same with him. I have to force myself to ignore his wants." You buried your face in Seonghwa's chest.

"Hey, don't say that. I know and I'm sure Yunho knows too that you're trying your best. You're already doing so much, letting him into your space. Tonight was progress." Seonghwa stroked your head.

"He made me love a carnival again. Last time, all it did was remind me of my mom. Now, a carnival reminds me of the time I spent with him."

"That's great, sweetheart." He smiled.

"Oh by the way, this is Yuyu." You pulled away from hug, settling the golden retriever stuffed toy on your lap. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, staring at you then the stuffed dog.

"Yuyu?"

"It reminds you of Yunho, no? That golden retriever like behaviour he has." You chuckled. Seonghwa laughed, nodding his head. He knew what you were referring to. Yunho's big energy and mannerisms were like a big, goofy dog.

"Seems like when I go out with him, I come back with a new animal." You noticed, remembering how you got Yunie, the manatee, from the aquarium on your first date.

"Maybe it's how he shows his affection. To have a memory from each date." He patted your head.

"Yeah, soon my bed isn't going to have enough space for you to sleep." You mocked, sticking your tongue out at him.

"I can just shove them to the floor." He shrugged.

"Don't you dare!" You gasped. You put your hands over Yuyu's floppy ears, as if he could hear, understand and comprehend Seonghwa's words. Seonghwa rolled his eyes at your childish actions.

"Alright, go to bed." Seonghwa patted your hip lovingly. You went to take a quick shower.

While you showered, Seonghwa made you and himself tea to wind down for the night. He placed your cup on your nightstand so you could have it. As he was about to get into bed to wait for you, he saw the manatee and golden retriever laying on his side of the bed. He scoffed and pushed them to your side.

"Ah, that feels so much better." You said, stepping out of the shower as you rubbed a towel in your wet hair. Sitting down at your vanity, you did your skincare and dried your hair.

"So, I spoke to Yunho about doing food themed nights at the restaurant." You started.

"Oh, you did? What did he say?" He lifted his head in interest.

"He says it could be good to market to new customers. We'll discuss it tomorrow with Yeosang and the others since they're in charge of the marketing stuff." You informed.

"That's promising, at least he's open to it. We should start coming up with theme ideas to propose." Seonghwa replied.

"Yeah, either by food category or countries. It would be fun and challenging for us." You giggled.

"Glad you're excited, sweetheart." He chuckled. You hummed, knowing what Seonghwa meant. Usually, by now, you would have become 'bored' of where you were working at and begin to look for a new kitchen with a new concept.

"You know Yunho won't expect you to stay, no matter what your relationship is." Seonghwa reminded as you climbed into bed, keeping Yunie and Yuyu by your side.

"I know. I'm just not bored yet." You said, taking your mug in your hands and sipping the tea.

"Plus the environment is good. Not just for me but for all of you too. There's no reason to leave yet." You shrugged.

"Hwa?" You called out. He hummed in acknowledgement, still scrolling on his phone.

"I miss my mom." You said softly. Seonghwa looked at you, seeing you smile with tears in your eyes, trying your best to preventing them from falling. He put his phone aside and hugged you tightly.

"I know, sweetheart." He whispered.

"After so many years, it still hurts to think about her." You cried. Seonghwa hummed again, your mother's passing was just a wound that would never close. And this was one of the instances where he didn't know how to comfort you. Because he knew nothing he said would bring her back to you.

Yunho entered his home, putting his keys in the bowl and removing his jacket, throwing it over the back of his sofa. He scratched his head, letting out a long sigh.

"There's so much more I want to tell you... But I'm scared that I scare you away."

Your words played repeatedly in his head. Yunho wasn't scared of you but he felt scared for you and what you possibly could be dealing with on your own. Maybe that's why Seonghwa is so protective of you.

"What else is there?" He wanted to know your fears and protect you from them, to tell you that you can depend on him.

But he knew he couldn't push you, it might make you distance yourself even more.

'Hey, I'm home. Thanks again for today, I had a lot of fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, sweet dreams. - Yunho'

After dropping you a text, he went to take a shower. He knew it was good progress, of you opening up to him and sharing with him about your late mother. You were slowly accepting Yunho into your world. He'll wait for as long as you need him to.

"You've rewritten the happy memory."

"Rewrite the memories..." Yunho said softly. Now he was more determined than ever to make sure all the memories he gives you are the good, happy ones. He'll rewrite as many memories as he can.

~

Series masterlist

[llamaisllama777]

LAES,TSAMS,EAPS WEEKLY*/*DAILY REVIEW SHOW!!!!!

Okay, we had a lot of really good episodes today, so let's hurry up and talk about them!

First up, FAMILY MOMENTS! I love this thumbnail so much, especially Moon's face.. I .. I just love it!

I love how we get to learn about everyone's movie preferences. It's interesting learning these little random tidbits about them. It's fun. Also Sun...

SPY KIDS 3 IS GREAT, AND I WILL NOT HEAR OTHERWISE!!! 😡

Also, Prince of Egypt is a really good movie. You all should go watch it. Even if you aren't religious, it's really good and has some awesome animation and music. Seriously, if you haven't watched, please do. I think it's on YouTube for free???

This episode was cute.... ONTO THE TRAUMA!

Bout time, I was wondering when Nexus would try to kidnap Sun. Took longer than I expected... I wonder why? 🤔

This episode I think confirmed a theory I had...

New Moon/Nexus never cared.

I had this thought in the back of my head that Nexus never really cared about them. He never thought of them as family. He just saw them as people he was told to call family. They were NEVER his family. He never really cared. He just cared about Solar, but Solar never saw him as a brother. OOOFFFFF!

That hurts!

But I'm glad we know because DANG! The angst there!

Also, Sun is stronger than Nexus' chain ability (That ability where he forces people to the floor. I like to imagine purple chains form around the person when he uses that move)

Nexus was so close to kidnapping Sun....

BUT MONTY CAME IN STINKIN' CLUTCH!!!!!!

Monty FINALLY got to use the shotgun! He nearly killed Nexus there! Thank you, Nebula, for the starshells! The Astrals are starting to grow on me.

(Okay... maybe a was a little rash on the whole "Down with the Astrals" "Viva la revolution" thing!) Sorry, Astrals. Still don't really trust Taurus or Leo tho.

Things are getting serious! October is in like two weeks! The creator is still out there! Rez and Cetus are out there! And Dark Sun still has a stinkin' dragon! This is gonna be an exciting October! I'm so excited!

Also, thank you, Davis and Reed, for this picture of Monty with a shotty.

And lastly...

Okay, Eclipse looks like that one guy from the office that conspiracy theory guy. And Puppet just looks depressed.

Puppet really wants to catch the killer. It's really affecting her. It's the MCI incident all over again. And she clearly doesn't want anyone or herself to go through that again. Eclipse still won't watch movies with anyone. It's only a matter of time, though. The moment he says yes and joins them is the moment his redemption arc is complete for me!

So, Eclipse and Puppet have narrowed down the killer to 4 suspects. All employees of Fazbear.

1. Vincent

2. Some lady named Margo

3. A teenage intern who works in the daycare named Josh

4. And the repair man whose name I forget.

I don't think it's any of these guys. But I have a few theories on who the killer could be..

1. Michael Afton of this world. Eclipse did mention in one of the early episodes of the EAPS that the Michael of this world was/still is an employee of Fazbears.

2. Henry Emily. Just cause the angst that it would cause Puppet.

3. The Charlie of this world. Just cause again the angst it would cause Puppet being the killer of this world!

There is no way it's Wanda(the William of this world)

And I highly doubt it's Vincent or some rando employee.

It has to be someone important.

These episodes were amazing!

Davis, Reed, Kat, Valentine, you guys did amazing on these episodes again!

12/10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Extra point cause WOW!

Also shout out to this commentor for having the funniest comment on there.

Nebula, you are starting to become my favorite Astral!

Also, Patchnotes is a ship I really hope happens now!

[watcherintheweyr]

... greenies seriously think ppl don't like alicent's "aegon came quickly and without fuss" line bc they.. wanted her to have a horrible, traumatic pregnancy and birth?

No, you absolute fucking walnuts. No one w a brain or half a heart want show!alicent to suffer a horrible, traumatic childbirth. No one w any decency wanted her to suffer Aemmas fate. Honestly I'm glad that Aegons birth wasn't horrific for her, even though I don't like her worth a wit. (And yeah, I don't like young alicent either. We've discussed this)

It's that she dropped this line in front of Rhaenyra, after the way Rhaenyra lost her mother and brother- and five siblings before them. It's that she dropped that line in front of Rhaenyra, who she damn well knows has a fear of childbirth and marriage, as though it's somehow comforting (it isnt!). It's that she drops that line, SEES the pain and upset in Rhaenyras face, and makes no attempt to soothe the sting. Rhaenyra made a comforting, apologetic gesture after the 'imprisoned in a castle to squeeze out heirs' line, when she saw how it landed for Alicent, despite the fact that Rhaenyra was absolutely justified in pointing out how insidious the courtship tour and her 'suitors' truly were. Alicent never does.

Rhaenyra had expressed genuine concern for Alicent traveling at that stage of heavy pregnancy- bc she still cared, despite her trust being broken, despite feeling betrayed by Alicent and her father. (Loud reminder that Rhaenyra did not know Alicent wasn't seeing Viserys of her own will and volition). And then, despite Alicent likely not MEANING to cause hurt, she does. And impact matters just as much as intent.

If you hurt someone when you don't mean to, if you ACTUALLY give a fuck about them, you apologize. Alicent never does. THATS why people hold that line, and many others against her.

Alicent didn't deserve to suffer a horrible childbirthing experience. It's how she speaks of it so cavalierly to a girl she claimed to once love, knowing that girl has mourned 6 siblings and her mother. And she does so while sitting in the place that once was Aemma's.

[canmom]

the adventure of canmom at weird weekend (part 1)

is this 'adventure of' joke getting old? like I've already done the 'translate into scots gaelic' variant. it's not exactly an adventure if it's a half hour bike ride is it? ah fuckit

This weekend was the Weird Weekend film festival in Glasgow! it's the tiny kind of film festival with one screen and folding chairs - they did get their hands on a real beast of a projector mind you...

Look at that concentrated beam of pure film. Kind of awesome to actually see a lightfield intense enough to scatter off random bits of dust in the air honestly.

This is apparently the fourth time this festival has run - though as is often the case I'm terribly out of the loop and only heard about it when @birdfriender told me it was on lol. It's also only my third time going to a film festival (the previous times both being Annecy, a very different kind of festival). It was a great time: the organisers have excellent taste and there's a lot of deep cuts, and made some good friends among the attendees.

On Friday night I showed up for the opening evening of interactive film - this included a short film/video essay commissioned for the festival based on of all things the Goncharov meme (seriously...), followed by a brief history of interactive film including the amusingly ill-fated venture of a certain former Microsoft guy called Bob something (I really should have written this down), and then someone called Puke ("everyone’s favourite genderfluid body fluid") came out dressed like this to oversee the actual event...

...and we watched of all things Final Destination 3 with the DVD feature that lets you switch in alternate scenes at various points (mostly death scenes). This was actually a pretty good time since it was my first time seeing a Final Destination film, and there was a good energy in the audience (although it seemed like the film always picked the opposite of what we voted for - not sure if that's a thematic point or programming error lol), but I'm glad the rest of the festival was more obscure stuff.

On Saturday, the festival proper began! I am reminded of a certain line in Exordia, in which the alien Ssrin gives her assessment of humanity, opening with "You’re a species of gangly distance runners, adapted to sweat and throw stuff. You like watching each other fuck." And indeed, there were few films this weekend that did not offer an opportunity to watch someone fuck. That's art for ya babey.

Looking back the clear highlight was Louise Weard's film Castration Movie I: Traps, but more on that anon - let's start at the beginning. I ended up catching all but one of the films over the course of the weekend and there was maybe only one I'd call an outright miss, so great going in all.

On Saturday we opened with a pair of Hungarian films directed by György Révész, about an incredibly up himself intellectual-in-exile named Dr. János Bátky - the self insert of author Antal Szerb. the first film, The Loves of a Dilettante, sees Bátky going through a series of affairs with women around him - in each case abruptly ending the relationship because it doesn't conform to his specific fantasy. The reasons become increasingly absurd: at first Bátky wishes instead that his partner is a certain Countess, but when he chances to meet the lady herself, he refuses to believe she is who she says she is; at last another woman at the library turns out to be the secret admirer who has been sending Bátky gifts in the post, and he cannot stand to be pursued instead of the manipulative pursuer he fancied himself to be, and spurns her as well.

Bátky is very much the butt of the joke in this film, and the ending sees everyone pretty much done with his bullshit; at the same time, he is an entertaining character, with a nonstop patter full of literary allusions, bizarre tangents and dubious observations. Not so charming that I can quite see why all these women are throwing themselves at him, but that's the conceit of the film I suppose! The actor playing him, Iván Darvas does a splendid job of making this sideburned wanker come across as interesting enough to carry a film.

The second Bátky film, The Pendragon Legend was a major tonal departure from the first - and also featured a different cast, despite including a number of the same characters. (Funnily enough Iván Darvas returns, but as a different character.) This time, rather than a study of Bátky's foibles, we have a complicated conspiracy at a stately home in wales, tying in with biological experiments, immortal sorcerors and the Rosicrucians, assassination plots, affairs; the works. It ends up a lot of fun, although the sheer number of characters made it a little hard to keep track of everything. Here, Bátky is pulled in as almost an observer of all the shit going down, and comes across a lot more sympathetic as a result.

All in all, a pretty fascinating pair of films and window into Hungarian cinema. With both these films set in London and Wales but voiced entirely in Hungarian, it seems to present an amusing alternate universe in which Hungary is the language of the UK, but nobody knows where Hungary is. It's a very old-school 'from outside' view of the UK, full of tea-sipping aristocrats and walks in the park and intellectual conversations in a library - it's quite funny to me. I haven't seen a ton of Hungarian film (mostly animation), but everything I've seen has been fascinating, and terribly literary.

A whole lot of the films in this festival were restorations of various out of print films, and that includes to the next one, Treasure Island directed by Scott King. This film has absolutely nothing to do with Stephenson's book, instead referring to the island near San Francisco where mail was processed during the second world war.

The basis of the story is the historical Operation Mincemeat, in which the British constructed a false identity for a corpse and planted it to mislead the Nazis; here the story is transplanted to the American invasion of Japan, but the focus is hardly wartime intrigue, instead the psychosexual inner lives of the two Americans who are involved in constructing the fake identity for the corpse. One of them secretly has two wives, one a white civilian woman and the other a Japanese woman who works in translation for the military; the other habitually invites other men for group sex with him and his wife and has a whole lot of hangups about how he is not gay, and that corpse is not at all sexy thank you.

As the film progresses, both of them are increasingly struck by visions of the dead man talking to them and the line between 'reality' and fantasy gets blurrier. It's a very well crafted and engaging film; shot in black and white in 1999, it aimed to challenge the rather sanitised and straightforwardly heroic picture of the 'Greatest Generation' who fought the war, presenting a more 'warts and all' look with the sexuality and racism and so forth in full view. I found it very effective! And it was cool to have the director there, a bearded American guy who spoke very confidently about his intentions for the film - I got to ask a question about how he kept all the fantasy and more literal elements straight while scripting the film.

(Do you find that when you get a Q&A session like this, you really want to ask a good question? Because I do. It's very silly. But like if I am going to hold the mic and get the spotlight on me... sure I don't want to waste peoples' time, but also I kinda want to come off well lmao. If I can get people to go 'ooh that's a good question' I feel like I've won audience Q&A, a real thing that is reasonable to want.)

In the afternoon we got a massive block of trans films old and new. We opened with Scarecrow in a Garden of Cucubers featuring Holly Woodlawn; Jaye Hudson of the TGirlsOnFilm Instagram account (which I was not previously familiar with) gave an introduction, telling the story of how Woodlawn came into the orbit of Warhol's 'Factory', and reading out some funny anecdotes about her experience on set. As Jaye talked about it, at that point in the 70s, trans girls were kind of the flavour of the month and we appeared in a bunch of films at the time, of which this was one.

The film sees a girl called Eve Harrington moving to New York in pursuit of the dream of becoming an actress; there she meets a series of weirdos from taxi-driving nuns to 'Mary Poppins', the drag empress of a kind of roommate finding service who's always trailed by worshipful boys. Most of the film sees Eve trying to find an apartment and a boyfriend, and running into various 70s archetypes along the way: a werewolf (also played by Woodlawn in boy mode), political lesbians, a plant-obsessed hippy, and finally a taciturn amnesiac Russian woman and her brother, a little person in a cowboy outfit who does pro wrestling. It's an intriguing slice of the 70s and of New York in particular.

Apparently this film has long been out of print and only narrowly evaded being lost media, so it's pretty sick to see. (And honestly despite the long cultural shadow they cast, I don't actually know that much about the girls around Warhol's 'Factory', so I was glad to get a look in.)

Next up we had 'An Untitled and Perfectly-Legal Coming-of-Age Clown Parody Film' - not hard to figure out what film this is (The People's Joker), especially with the still and trailer right there, but while the courts in the US seem to have come down on recognising it as a valid Fair Use defence, the legal status is still a bit up in the air in the UK.

This one got a lot of buzz for thumbing its nose at Warner Bros.' copyright empire - and of course being part of a recent wave of trans girl directed independent films such as I Saw The TV Glow. It's a trans girl coming of age story built around the Batman milieu, and clearly by people with a pretty thorough knowledge of Batman's cinematic history and DC universe deep cuts (the final act involves a musical number with Mx. Mxyzptlk, played as a puppet, which I'm sure means something if you read the comics).

It's largely shot on greenscreen, with all kinds of mixed media and animation segments - deliberately going for a grungy, chaotic look where it doesn't try to match lighting and animation styles (there's a whole bunch of indepedent animators contributing brief segments here, much as in Barber Westchester). The story concerns Joker the Harlequin, a trans girl who finally moves away from her controlling mother after being drugged with 'Smylex' for most of her life; now in Gotham she can transition, have a dodgy relationship with a trans guy (who is also a version of the Joker, and - spoilers - a former Robin), and build an 'anti-comedy' club with most of the usual Batman villains before going to confront the cultish institution which controls all legal comedy in post-'cyber war' America.

The film's strongest aspect is, fittingly, jokes - throwaway lines about the casually dystopian setting ('drag was outlawed after the explosion at RuPaul's fracking ranch' got a big laugh); a running joke of namedropping cancelled comedians with 'before the unpleasantness, of course' 'of course'; the playful riffs on past Batman films. The core story, though, is a fairly by-the-numbers queer/trans coming of age about self-acceptance, parental mistreatment and finding community, and a bit of a satire on SNL which is perhaps more specific to the director's history - I get the purpose of this kind of narrative and I certainly needed it at a time, and wrote similar stories myself, but it's a kind of story I'm kind of increasingly tired of hearing. I don't mean to say it's bad for that - just it doesn't resonate the way it might have ten years ago.

Honestly, I think trying to make a 'trans movie' kind of paints you into a formulaic corner. A corner very deftly avoided by the next movie, Louise Weard's Castration Movie Part I: Traps. This was the theatrical debut of this movie, though it's been available to download on Weard's gumroad for some time.

Louise Weard made herself kind of notorious for her previous movie, ten years ago, Computer Hearts, but even more so for her castration scene supercut at the Fantastic Fest '100 Best Kills' event a couple of years ago - something that has left her feeling a bit pigeonholed into castration scenes. Part of the joke about Castration Movie is then that it's eight hours (only half of that presently available) of trans girls being sad (emotional drama) without any castration until the very end of the movie. It doesn't even come up in the first half.

Technically, this is a four hour long movie - the first part of an eight hour long movie! - consisting largely of very long takes of naturalistic conversations shot on an incredibly grainy camera, now and then mixing that with musical montage and sex scenes. Something I'd raise an eyebrow at on description, and I want to kind of lead with that because like, no joke, this is legit one of the best movies I've seen; those four hours absolutely fly by. Incredibly sharp character writing, incredibly strong naturalistic acting - and unreasonably funny, just way too much.

The first hour or so focuses on Turner, an aspiring film director who spends his time working odd jobs at a film crew and increasingly torpedoing his relationship with his furry-artist girlfriend - someone he clearly isn't very compatible with and views with little actual interest, and his efforts to try and salvage the relationship ring false in ways he's clearly unable to see. But at every turn he doubles down and builds on his resentment and sense of emasculation, until he's picking fights with a living statue in the street and busting into his ex's room late at night.

Along the way we get all sorts of darkly funny conversations - Weard has an incredible eye for subtext and awkwardness, and can lend an ultimately very unsympathetic character like Turner enough sympathetic motivation to make his downward spiral completely human and convincing. It's both sad and terribly funny, perfectly pitched.

The punchline sees him posting to /r9k/ - and at this point we cut to a new story about 'Traps', the film's actual main character, a sex worker in Vancouver played by Weard herself, who is caught up with the drama of various partners and her own completely unresolved shit around transition to make her an entirely unsuitable would-be mentor figure to her friend Adeleine, who's kind of the deuteragonist of this act, cracking under the pressure of being the only one in the house with a shit but paying office job while her boyfriend gets top surgery.

The first act sets us up a frame to look at the second - Traps is a pretty messed up person, but in a deeply understandable way, and it serves in ways to show that the shit she's going through is not some unique trans girl thing but very much the torment of being a human. Desperate for connection and fucking it up, digging ourselves deeper while convinced it's the right thing to do. Along the way, we see her having various kinds of nasty sex, injecting DIY HRT, taking a bunch of cocaine, a trans guy getting top surgery, and various other fun things that I could never stream on twitch (or you bet I'd be planning a screening right away) - but it's also in many ways incredibly matter of fact about all this shit we get up to in a way that feels incredibly real.

It's a film that benefitted a lot from viewing with a largely transfem audience who would laugh at certain lines in the right spirit - I have no idea how this whole thing would come across if you aren't trans and don't know what 'agp' means (about the person saying it as much as anything) lmao. But if you are, it's like the film I never even knew I needed. It's way too real: from amusing setups like the polycule who has the access to DIY HRT trying to drag you into an argument about Dune before one of them wakes up and has a panic attack or daft conversations about boobs, to the pinpoint depiction of the kinds of neuroses we end up carrying from our shitty tenuous work, and of course the friction and fireworks of trying to care for each other when we're all burned out from carrying our own shit. Weard is fearless, and does seem to rather revel in being transgressive, but this is not edge for edge's sake.

And honestly this is 100% what 'trans film', if we can't help but have such a category, needs to be I think - a story heavily informed by the specific fucked up experiences of being trans but not like, About Being Trans(TM) in the way People's Joker was. Uncompromisingly honest (but with plenty of humour) about how we are, which is to say painfully human, rather than cheerfully painting the sort of freeing subculture we'd like to think we have.

I got to talk to Weard quite a bit on Sunday (ending up in a pub with her and a number of other mostly trans festivalgoers), and it turns out the slightly ludicrous length of the film wasn't even planned, with the original idea to edit it down to something like a standard 90 minutes - but when it became evident after shooting the first forty minutes or so that these long scenes were kind of absolute gold, someone (I forget who now) made the case that they shouldn't be cut down at all and to just go for the full behemoth. And honestly? They were fucking right. This did not feel like a four hour film, somehow. There were definitely other films this festival where my mind wandered and I kind of checked out a bit, but not this one.

As a chaser (ha ha) to that, we had Louise Weard's 'Unsee' segment, screened just once in the hour before the clocks change (which is in a certain sense lost to time, or at least that's the joke of this segment). An elaboration on the experience of presenting the castration scene supercut at the '100 Best Deaths' event, it dives into a reprise of that supercut before increasingly alternating with scenes of a kind of introspective monologue on how people reacted to that event and how far Louise herself started to end up feeling like the butt of the joke (even as random cis women accused her of being transphobic lmao).

As the video progresses it segues into an increasingly ridiculous sequence where two of Weard's friends step in (as substitute Louise Weards) reading out her essay of Lacanian film analysis on castration scenes in movies, while Weard (behind the camera) gives them directions to frame the shot to better show her cis ex's boobs. In between, more castration scenes! So many, most of them unfamiliar to me (funny moment when I finally recognised one and my brain was like hey! that's Sálo! and I found myself turning to face Violet with an excited grin before my brain caught up with that)

Among other things, the narration talks about the whole arc being a transgressive tgirl filmmaker who frequently faced some rather ridiculous accusations of being a transphobe or nazi troll (by TV Glow's Jane Schoenbrun, although it seems they have since made up), all in a time when it seems like a lot of her contemporaries in the transgressive film scene actually do seem to end up going nazi; the trouble of getting pigeonholed as the castration person, and so on - but also kind of playing with like oh, fifteen more castration scenes, that's what you want right? So many swerves, and the supercut was in fact very funny (I wonder if I find it easy to laugh instead of wincing since I actually have been castrated lmao), ending in a scene which is constructed to suggest Louise actually cut her balls off for the bit - though since she showed the prop penis earlier it was pretty clear that she didn't. (Yet..?)

It's a really clever bit and superbly entertaining bit of filmmaking, all told. I'm a full Louise Weard convert at this point, can't wait for castration movie part ii.

This post has gotten pretty long now, so I'll write up Sunday tomorrow. Do go watch Castration Movie tho, it's worth your time.

[jenniferjareauwife]

can you write a jj x reader or Carina x reader based on the song Sara by we three and can you make the reader survive please

Sara

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: depression, suicide attempt

word count: 816

summary: based on the song sara by we three

I took another drink while staring straight at the wall, my FBI issued gun sitting on the counter. JJ wasn't supposed to be home until later and I was alone in every sense. I was on my fourth drink of the night, just to keep my finger off the trigger.

I wasn't even phased when I heard JJ come through the door. I was so out of it that I probably should've jumped but I was so drunk and focused that nothing could pull me out of it. "Hey."

"Hm." I grunted.

"Whatcha drinking?"

"Whiskey."

"Oh." She set her bag down and walked towards me. She knew I only drank whiskey on bad nights. "What's wrong?" She took one whiff of my breath and her nose wrinkled. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Four."

"Still level headed." She said quietly.

"Mm." I leaned back against the couch, taking another sip before she took the glass out of my hands.

"Seriously. What's wrong."

"Nothing."

"If it were nothing you wouldn't be drinking like this-"

"I'm fine-"

"You're not-"

"Just stop." I felt a single tear roll down my cheek but I couldn't bring myself to wipe it away so she did. "Nothing numbs it anymore." I whispered weakly. I saw her freeze out of the corner of my eye once she saw my gun. I usually kept it locked in my nightstand so keeping it down here was unusual.

"I'm gonna go upstairs, ok? I'll be right back." She grabbed my gun and I took in a sharp breath, I didn't really care anymore. I wasn't gonna pull the trigger while she was here, I wouldn't do that to her.

Once she came back downstairs she curled up on the couch next to me, wrapping her arms around my torso and resting her head on my shoulder. "I love you." She kissed my jaw once and then fell asleep.

Two weeks later I was sitting on the floor of our bathroom, my knees pulled up to my chest. JJ wasn't home again, she almost never was anymore. I knew she would come if I called but she didn't need to be burdened with this. She didn't need to be burdened by me anymore, it's not fair for her to have to put up with me everyday and constantly worry about me just because I can't handle my fucking emotions and my stupid brain.

I grabbed a notepad and wrote down a letter to JJ. I should at least leave her that. Then I took a razor and slit my wrists. It was the easiest decision I had ever made and that didn't even scare me until my vision was blurring and went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed, two warm hands gripping one of mine. The lights were almost blinding as I slowly opened them. "Hey." I turned my head to the side slightly and saw the most beautiful woman ever. JJ. I smiled softly.

"Hi...why am I here?"

"I found you...in our bathroom." She didn't say anything else. I saw her tear up and I wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away but she didn't let me let go of her hand. "Don't...don't I need this." A few tears fell down her cheeks. "I thought I lost you!"

"I'm-"

"I don't want to hear apologies, ok? Don't apologize for how you feel. Don't ever do that."

"But I-"

"Do you regret it?"

"Um...yeah. Now I do. But I didn't...I didn't when I did it and...I didn't even feel bad. It only took me a second to make the decision and that's..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah that's so scary now that I'm thinking about it." My voice broke as I tried to hold back tears. "I-I'm sorry."

"Shh. I already told you, no apologies-"

"But I-"

"No baby. No apologies." She squeezed my hand before bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. "It's ok."

"I didn't want to hurt you." She frowned but nodded.

"I'm glad you woke up. You have no idea how happy I am right now."

"You're happy?"

"Of course I'm happy. You survived. I've never been happier than this, I thought I was going to lose you and I didn't." She held my hand tighter. "I didn't lose you." Her voice cracked. "I don't know what I would've done if I had lost you." A few more tears rolled down her cheeks and I wiped them away this time. "I love you so much, I just want you to be alright. I'm willing to do anything to make that the case, ok?" I nodded and bit my lip to keep myself from sobbing. "I love you so much. Please don't leave me."

"I won't." I sniffled. "I'm so sorry, I won't."

"I'm so glad to have you back."

"I love you JJ. I love you."

"I love you too."

[yan-randomfandom]

Hey! I wanted to ask if you could do a platonic peri X female reader? Like reader is his new good kid or something? Do what you want, Love ur stuff byyeee! :D

a/n: my bad its kinda angsty 😭 he made you his therapist,,, slight,, prolly ooc too,, im so off today,, DONT READ THIS STAY AWAY 😭😭😭

💟 ; Peri & Kid!Reader :} no wait :{

"I wish she has her favorite flavor of donut inside that lunchbox!"

Peri lifted his wand, the star glowing brighter as he granted your wish. You grinned, almost mischievously, watching your classmate open her lunch. She's going to be so surprised and happy—!

But you were met with disappointment. She pulled out the donut with no packaging, or even a container at that. It left a mess on her fingers and inside her lunchbox. At this point, it was practically unedible.

"Peri..." you side-eyed him gracefully, your eyes narrowing. He smiled sheepishly in response.

Despite the initial mess, you continued having been lunch with your hopefully permanent friend, yapping about anything that came to mind. Yet, you couldn't help but notice that Peri, disguised as a necklace, was awfully quiet throughout the whole session.

Sure, he was supposed to, but it still felt odd. He usually had a few sassy remarks up his sleeve.

After school, you finally decided to confront him.

"Peri, I'm—"

"I'm so sorry!" he sobbed, a bit dramatically, his arms flailing out. "I don't know what's gotten into me, and I know I'm the world's most godawful godparent—"

You blinked. "Huh? But... you did what I asked you to. I was going to say sorry, and I should've been more specific and told you to give her packaged donuts."

Peri paused, staring at you with a big frown on his face. That face was distracting enough to interrupt you mid-way.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, raising a brow.

"You're so different from Dev," he murmured. "Too kind."

Your shoulders slumped. This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned Dev. In fact, during the first few days, that was all he ever talked about.

"Is that... a bad thing?" you mumbled, looking down.

Peri patted your head, gently ruffling your hair. "You're a good kid. Which is why I'm so surprised you even need a fairy godparent."

His eyes widened at your expression. "No! Of course not, starshine," he floated over to you quickly. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. It's just... he was my first godkid, and we ended on a pretty bad note."

"Seriously," you said, scrunching your nose, "you say that like it's a bad thing."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You don't deserve to feel miserable."

"If anything, you're the miserable one," you snickered, but your smile faltered when he looked genuinely affected.

"...But I'm glad I met you, Peri," you quickly added, softening your words with a smile. "And I'm sure, whoever this Dev kid is, he'd be proud of you."

Peri mustered a crooked smile, thinking about how, if Dev had heard your words, he’d be offended beyond belief.

±

if you think something's wrong w peri then i think you're absolutely rigt