#i should feel lucky that nobody in my life is trying to hurt me at the moment. Because anybody could do so at the drop of a hat

[cryptid-on-a-string]

I hate that I’m so easy to hurt, physically and emotionally

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[notjustjavierpena]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them. 

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other 

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine. 

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast. 

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments. 

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not. 

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment. 

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him. 

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward. 

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced. 

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches. 

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble. 

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you. 

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?” 

*

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word. 

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back. 

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for. 

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan. 

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.” 

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him. 

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head. 

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day. 

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor. 

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear. 

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel. 

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.  

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place. 

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you. 

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical. 

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous. 

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips. 

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly. 

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch. 

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel. 

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body. 

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over. 

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard. 

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants. 

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim. 

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut. 

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release. 

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth. 

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss. 

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.” 

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.” 

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies. 

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly. 

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

.

.

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[worldofkuro]

I'm curious..sometimes I just crave platonic so...

What if reader was his little sibling? What would their childhood and teenagehood look like?

I’m sorry, I’ve been working a lot and I didn’t have time for myself. Next chapter should be uploaded this weekend.  Now, a Platonic question, I’m delighted ! I hope you'll enjoy it :)

Alastor would act differently depending on how you were.

If you were emotional, he would use you as his experiment. Why were you crying now? Why were you smiling? You were his little experiment and sibling, how lucky he was!

If you were a normal person, he wouldn’t show interest in you and just let you live your life.

During his childhood, if he created a bond with you, he would try to make you immune to others feelings, just like he was. If you were sad because an animal died, or because you fought with some “friends” of yours, he would try to understand why you were upset, or tried to understand your feelings.

For you security, and yours, he would try to explain to you how to perceive the world, never showing weakness. 

“ Dear sister/brother, you must have walls inside your head, no one can hurt you, no one, not even father.”

If you began to be like him, he would be delighted as a child, finally he wasn’t completely alone. You both would torture some animals in the forest, thinking it was your dad.

When you grew up and met Alice, Alyzée and John at school, depending if Alastor had succeeded at cutting your feelings for others, you both would see them as useful tools for your future plans.

But if you created a true and deep friendship with them, Alastor would just smile at you, with a hint of mischief. 

“ What ? You like them ?... That’s why you are the little one, so weak to others. Go mingle, it will be useful either way.”

If you were to fall in love with John, Alastor would be so disappointed. Raise your standard won’t you?

But if you fell in love with Alice and managed to have a relationship with her, Alastor would pinch your cheek with a big smile.

“ Well done, brat! A big fish you caught !”

If you ever were insecure about your relationship with Alice, Alastor would try to cheer you up but… In a weird way?

“ Why do you feel bad ? She is rich.” " You think you don't deserve her? .... You are my sibling, she doesn't deserve you." “ Yes, you both are girls… And?” “ You think you are disgusting for liking a girl ? Let me show you how disgusting men are, you’ll feel like you are the cleanest thing in town.”

He would want you to continue this relationship because it was useful for him.

Voodoo would be fun for both of you, and you would compete against one another. 

“ You can see people’s souls? Pfff, I can trap them.”

He would let you live your beautiful, loving life while he would go deeper into darkness.

Don’t trust him, he would betray you if he had something to win.

Now, now, if you were just like him, not feeling emotion for others, being selfish and wishing for power, then you were his best accomplice.

You both would be an unstoppable duo. Alastor would say that you both were twins, you were just a little late.

Killing your father would be a bonding experience for the both of you as you stayed awake at night for years, picturing how his death would feel like.

You would go sit into a coffee shop, talking about your last murder in a way nobody would understand.

You would want to have a job where you would be in the spotlight, just like your older brother.

But Alastor would never trust you fully, you were just like him, which meant you were dangerous, clever, ambitious. You were a danger to him, and even if he adored you because of how similar you were to him. He would try to kill you first.

And you would think just like him.

In the end, unless one of you moves to another country, you would be an amazing duo but also swore enemies.

“ Dear little one, it wasn’t nice to try to frame me for the neighbor’s death, but it was very clever. I can’t wait to see what you have in store! But now… This is my turn to play.”

When you both meet in Hell, you would smile widely at each other. Another game was on.

Fighting like siblings, even in Hell.

[notmorbid]

...best american short stories.

dialogue prompts from 100 years of the best american short stories, edited by lorrie moore and heidi pitlor.

death-bed promises should be broken as lightly as they are seriously made.

the dead have no right to lay their clammy fingers upon the living.

if you're going to snore, go to bed!

you look as if you'd seen a ghost or found a gold mine. i don't know which.

i don't expect to marry anybody.

don't ever bet on anything.

i didn’t realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and i was gone.

we've suffered like everybody, but on the whole it's a good deal pleasanter.

we were a sort of royalty, almost infallible, with a sort of magic around us.

i should think you'd have had enough of bars.

don't you want a cocktail before dinner?

i want to get to know you.

i don't really need much taking care of anymore.

i don't want you to forget.

have you got a picture of ___?

family quarrels are bitter things. they don't go according to rules.

i was caught in a trap. it wasn't set for me, but it got me all the same.

you wanted a story, so i gave you a good one.

write me a letter. don't forget. i'll be waiting.

my dreams never renege on me. they're all i have to go by.

i don't put the respect on dreams i once did.

are you sure nobody knows where i am?

i don't see why you should ever be afraid of anything.

you know i'd take care of you if anything ever happened, don't you?

don't go away. stay and talk.

you don't have to worry, you know. i wouldn't ever let anything happen to you.

i wish you wouldn't look so unhappy.

i didn't think you saw me. not at first.

how can you get away from anything here?

we're all human on earth.

we couldn't get away from each other if we tried.

i don't want to do a thing from now on till evermore.

sometimes there are about fifteen or twenty minutes in the week when i feel like myself.

i thought it might make you happy. i wanted to make you happy.

and what if they can hear us? who cares?

i thought you were too smart to get hung.

i swear if i'd known what i was doing i would have never hurt you so.

maybe it does some good if you believe it.

i hope you'll remember the things i tried to teach you.

honey, there's a lot that you don't know. but you are going to find it out.

don't you forget what i told you, you hear?

i think people ought to do what they want to do. what else are they alive for?

i can't forget where i've been, and what i've been.

i can't really talk about it. not to you, not to anybody.

don't be a martyr.

with the world in the mess it's in, it's a wonder we can enjoy anything.

if you know who you are, you can go anywhere.

buck up. it won't kill you.

i wish you'd talk to me.

don't you ever want to rest?

i think death is a wonderful thing. i look forward to it.

what tone? i didn't take any tone.

you give everyone too much. that's your trouble.

mad at me, huh?

i don't know why i did it. i'm sorry for it, isn't that enough?

god listened and didn't say yes or no.

you should have gone after them with an ax.

you've been lucky. you always have been.

i bet you're afraid of me.

why aren't you married? you're not ugly. are you gay or something?

how nice. you always try to say the right thing.

you can't seem to keep your mind on one thing for more than a minute at a time.

it's not exactly the kind of thing you can bring up over lunch.

can you keep a secret about what i did today?

i thought when i left, it would just go away.

i want more days like that.

you don't have a heart. there's nothing to love in you.

would you tell me something if i asked you? would you tell me the truth?

other people's dreams are boring.

two salaries and no kids, that's the way to go.

i always seem to miss you.

i don't think i'll ever be dead enough --- or dead long enough --- to get the taste of this life off my teeth.

your optimism always surprises me.

pick on someone your own size.

promise you won't get mad?

i could yell at you, but why waste my breath?

better late than never. i was sure i'd see you someday.

you're a regular whirling dervish.

i don't watch tv. i don't own one.

how do you connect with the rest of the world?

did you like growing up there?

i don't usually say stuff like that.

i've been getting these mixed signals from you. i can't tell if you're attracted to me or not.

you don't have to love me. i love you enough for both of us.

group sex is for teenagers.

i think our hopes are made when we are young, and we can never adjust them to the real world.

how long can you use your parents as an excuse?

a life is like a house. one has to plan carefully where all the furniture will go.

mr. grief and i went a few rounds.

if you think about fear, then you'll be afraid.

i want to be a hero, you know?

you can always trust unhappiness.

i will keep coming until you speak to me.

what brings you here after all these years?

can i hug you? i'd really like to give you a hug.

i worried about you the whole time.

i wanted to be with you all the time.

the moment you fall in love with someone, you are lost.

i had to let you make your own mistakes.

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

Jann Mardenborough x reader pt.6

Pt.1,Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6

Jann's accident came like a bolt from the blue and now I was sitting in the hospital waiting room with Danny and Jack, my heart pounding and my throat dry. Our fears were palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog.

 Danny paced nervously as Jack tried to keep his composure, but his clenched fists and set jaw showed that he was just as scared. Finally the door opened and a doctor entered the room. I held my breath as I stood up and walked over to him.

 "How is he?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

 The doctor smiled, which calmed me down for a moment. "Jann was lucky. He has a few broken bones and bruises, but no life-threatening injuries. He will have to stay in the hospital for some time and undergo rehabilitation, but he should make a full recovery."

 The relief that washed over me was overwhelming. I turned to Danny and Jack who were staring at me with tense expressions. "He'll be fine," I said and couldn't help but smile spreading across my face. "He's got a few fractures, but nothing serious. He'll need some time to recover, but he should be fine."

 But our joy did not last long. When we entered Jann's room a moment later, he was asleep. His face was calm, but the sight of him connected to the devices scared me. I stood there staring at him, wondering how we were going to explain everything to him when he woke up.

 When Jann finally woke up, his look was confused. "What happened?" he whispered when he saw our faces.

 Danny was the first to speak. "You had an accident, Jann. It was serious, but the doctors say you'll make a full recovery."

 Jann tried to sit up, but the pain quickly stopped him. "Did I hurt anyone?" he asked quietly.

 Jack looked at me and I sighed. "That's not important right now, you need to focus on your recovery now."

 Janna's face contorted in anger. "I killed someone, didn't I," he said, his voice growing stronger.

 Danny scowled at him. "It was an accident, Jann. Nobody wanted it."

  "Someone died because of me."

 There was a heavy silence. "Please Jann calm down, stress is not good for you right now." I tried to calm him down.

"The spectator… the accident. He didn't survive," Jack said quietly. "I killed a man. How am I supposed to get back on track now? I'm afraid it's going to happen again." Jann began to hyperventilate.

 “It wasn't your fault love,” I said softly. "It was an accident. It's not your fault."

 "No, you don't understand," he said sharply. "I can't race anymore. I can't get back in the car knowing I killed someone."

 I made up my mind and moved closer to his bed. "Jann, you need time to recover. We will be here for you, we will help you."

 Jann stared at me, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "I don't want your help," he said coldly. "I want to be alone. Everyone get out."

 I was taken aback by his harsh words. “Jann, please, we're just trying to help you.

 "No," he cut me off sharply. "I don't want to see any of you. Get out!"

 We had no choice. We turned and left his room, our mood heavy and somber. We had only the best intentions, but Jann's reaction hit us deep.

 In the evening, Jack and I decided to go to a bar to try to forget the events of the day for a while. The bar was noisy and crowded but we didn't mind. We needed to react somehow.

 Jack handed me a drink and gave me an encouraging smile. "We have to give him time," he said. “It's hard for him.

 I nodded, but the feeling of disappointment and sadness was still gnawing at my chest. "I know you're right. It just hurts how he's driving us all apart."

 Just as I finished my drink, I noticed Nicholas Capa, one of Jann's rivals, approaching us. His expression was full of contempt and his smile was fake.

 "Well, let's see who's here," he began as he arrived at our table. "I heard about Jann's accident. Sad, isn't it?"

 I felt a surge of anger. "What do you want, Capa?" Jack asked icily.

 Nicholas laughed. "I just wanted to say that maybe you should reevaluate your priorities. Dating someone who can't even keep on track isn't the best idea, is it? Maybe you should try someone more capable. Like me, for example."

 I blinked in surprise. "You're disgusting, Capa. Jann had an accident and you're making fun of it?"

 Nicholas just smirked. "Why shouldn't I? He's just a broken racer now with no future. But you and I… we could have a good time."

 I felt my anger welling up inside me. "You bastard," I growled without realizing it. Then I stood up, clenched my fist and punched him right in the nose.

 Nicholas staggered back, clutching his bleeding nose. "I'll remember this!" he snapped at me before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

 Jack laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. "That was amazing," he said admiringly. “I think you've gained a few fans.

 “He had to hear it,” I said, feeling my anger slowly subside. "I'd better go. I'm not in the mood to stay here anymore."

 I left the bar and headed back to the hospital. I couldn't shake the feeling that I need to try to talk to him again. I hoped he would finally listen to me.

 When I arrived at the hospital, I found Jann still awake, his look still full of anger. "What do you want here again?" he asked sharply.

 "We need to talk," I said firmly. "You can't push us away like this. You need us."

 Jann paused for a moment, his face tense. "You don't know what I'm going through," he finally said in a low voice.

 "Exactly, we don't know," I replied. "But we want to help you, Jann. You're not alone."

 He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "You should go."

 "I'm not leaving" I stated firmly. “I'm here for you whether you like it or not.

 Slowly, reluctantly, Jann finally nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. “But you have to give me time.

 I nodded. "Alright. We'll give you as much time as you need."

 That evening I stayed in the hospital with Jann, his anger gradually subsided and we slowly started to return to normal. I knew it would be a long journey, but we were determined to be there for him, no matter what.

[thatmahblog]

The 3rd gender was legalized 2 years ago where I live and the government has been trying to avoid the decision of the court and postpone its application ever since. They made a commity to think about what the right thing to do is and it includes 0 trans or non-binary person. We got "sex" change certificates and new birth certificates, but what they refused this whole time was to update any IDs, rendering that "X" completely useless.

Anyways, the news came out and the law that passed 1131 days ago will finally be (fully) applied on October 10 (we get to have IDs that correspond to our legal identities!) People, like me, have been without a valid ID or valid (obligatory)(government) health insurance, this whole time, because they refused to give us IDs.

Huzzah!

I'm still angry.

First of all, that atrocious commity has not been called off, somehow. But let me paint you a picture, if you will listen to my story. I am so angry and wounded and nobody around me seems to give a shit.

The year is 2022, I am rejoiced that the X has been legalized and painstakingly fillout forms, back and forth, by (physical) mail. I have already burnt out and screamed in agony before from the absolute bullshit™ that changing my name was. I am sick and tired of seeing my chosen name next to an "F" and being called "mam'" everywhere I go, regardless of if they've seen my face or heard my voice yet.

After a long wait I get my papers and go to the health center to fill the paperwork to get my new ID. It's recent, their paperworks are not up to date, no surprise there, my standards are below the ground. I get lucky and this extremely nice employee does everything he can to figure this out for me. He writes out X on the form and we attach a copy of my certificate. Now I wait again.

My new card arrives in the mail! I can feel it through the envelop, I am buzzing with glee.

There's an "F" on the card.

I collapse on the floor of my appartment, scream and cry and call off work because I am having a mental breakdown.

Small independent online news cover the story of non-binary folks being deprived of an ID. Months of silence. Major news network finally publish something (nobody talks about it). The gorvernment says they'll put up a commity to make a wise decision about what is best to do with IDs (even if the law has already passed). Months and months and months pass.

The year is 2024, I have made a lot of advocacy and shared my strife about this whole shitshow two years ago. People who are close to me know, because I fucking care about my human rights being respected, being treated like a human being with dignity and the law being respected where it fucking should. I share the news that this great injustice who has caused undue pain to thousands is finally to be rectified.

Nobody.

Nobody fucking says anything or react to my post in any way at all.

And I remember all the way back when I got my name on my ID and I happily boasted it to others as a great news and as I was met with indifference, felt a pang in my chest.

Nobody cares.

It matters so much, it is life changing, I have done everything I could to properly express and explain this. There is so much pain and injustice and where there should finally be joy and celebration I am met with a void.

It's grim, but with the growing transphobia internationally, I fret and wonder : how much of this silence, of this show of indifference, is hatred, disgust, or rejection? Does my life mean so little to you? Do you not see trans rights as human rights? Do you not see trans people as human?

I don't know, I'm just really tired. I fought so hard for this, and it hurt a lot. I got treated like shit and saw my rights denied. I dealt with dysphoria and gritted my teeth, trying to forget about that damn X, 'lest it rot my brain with anger and grief. And finally, though I don't want to believe it till I see it, it truly seems like what I wanted and waited for this whole time is finally within reach...

I'm angry. I'm sad.

I'm hurt

I wish I wasn't.

I shouldn't have to be.

[onceuponastory]

raindrops on windows - court gentry x reader

Plot: In the aftermath of another agent's betrayal. Y/N and Court rethink their feelings for one another. Pairing: Court Gentry/Sierra Six x Agent!Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death/reader almost dying, violence (nothing graphic though), reader and Court doubting themselves and their feelings. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: I swear I've been listening to Ryan singing I'm Just Ken at the Oscars on repeat since it happened, so it somehow led to...this. But I also missed writing for Court :)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Apart from the rain pelting down outside. Y/N rests her head on the window, watching as the raindrops race each other down the window. She’s only just calmed down after the horrible events of the night, since she came face to face with death. Sniffling, she rubs her eyes. 

How could she have been so stupid? 

How could she not have known?

“You alright?” Court’s husky voice asks as he gets in beside her, the sound making her jump. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay. And yeah, I’m fine.” She lies. He raises a brow. 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” Dammit. He’s good. Court sighs. “You almost got killed by a double agent tonight, Y/N. Nobody expects you to be fine. You don’t need to pretend, least of all to me.” Usually, Court teases her about how he knows her better than anyone. Most of the time, it’s about his constant snarky and sarcastic comments at her expense, and how much he knows she likes them, despite her insisting otherwise.

But this time… she notices there isn’t any snark or a sarcastic comment building.

No. Court Gentry genuinely cares about her feelings for the first time in well… forever. 

“I know. I don’t need the reminder.” She snaps, a little harsher than intended. Each time she closes her eyes, the agent’s face looms, poised to take her life. At the last second, Court came in and rescued her, beating the agent to a pulp. She owes her life to him, yet here she is, snapping at him when he’s being nice to her for once. “Shit, sorry, just…. It’s been a horrible night.” She sighs, and Court nods.

“It’s alright.” He smiles. 

“No, it’s not. If it weren't for you, I would have been killed. You really saved my ass, and I should be more grateful.” Y/N sighs. “So, thank you for saving my life. Really.” He cracks a grin at that, one which drives her crazy.

“Let me take you home.” He suggests, and she nods, glad to not be alone right now. Although there’s not really another alternative, save for Court dragging her back to the car the second she tries to leave. So, the drive continues in silence. Court glances at Y/N every so often, concern filling his gut. This isn’t what he’s supposed to do. Care for someone else. Or at least, it’s not what Court does. He works alone, he always has. He can’t let anyone else into his life.

Especially not Y/N. The agent he just loves to tease, the one he frequently snarks at. And the one who snarks right back at him, too. 

The one he’s so irrevocably in love with. Honestly, he probably has been in love with her for a long time, but tonight was the first time he actually realised it.

When he found out she was in danger, he almost ripped the door to the warehouse off its hinges to get to her in time. That agent was lucky the others got to him before Court. Because Court would have killed him for daring to hurt a hair on Y/N's head. Honestly, he’d burn the world down for her, and she doesn’t even know it.

But he’s always such a pain in the ass to her, annoying her when she’s just trying to do her job. If he told her the truth, how much he loves her… she’d probably just think it’s a joke, or tell him to fuck off. And maybe he deserves it, after the shit he’s been through in this life. Another bad thing to add to the many he’s already experienced. He glances over at Y/N, who's still avoiding his gaze.

Yet, he saved Y/N. That’s one good thing he’s done.

In fact, in Court’s eyes… That's the best thing he’s ever done.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmurs. Y/N shakes her head, not even looking at him, still watching the raindrops as they batter the car. He hates seeing her like this. Usually, she’s so outgoing, ready to take his sarcastic, witty remarks and fire them right back. He’s never seen her so quiet before, so upset.

And it scares him to death.

“Yes, it is. I worked right next to him. I should’ve seen something was wrong. I could’ve stopped this!” she insists. “I’m smarter than this.” Court shakes his head.

“I met him too, remember? We all did. And none of us spotted him.” He points out. “Stop beating yourself up. Please.” His voice carries a hint of begging, an urging she’s never experienced from him before. It’s strange, realising he cares so much about her. But…she likes it.

“I’ll…I’ll try not to.” She says, and Court nods, going back to driving. Y/N looks over at him. He’s focused on the car in front of them at the stop sign, so he doesn’t notice her staring. The street lights illuminate him slightly, and her breath catches in her throat.

God, he's so handsome.

The silence continues, but this time, it’s more awkward, with each person suddenly realising that the feelings they hid for so long, the ones they ignored, might actually mean something different. Y/N gulps. What would happen, if she laid her heart on the line, admitted that she might be falling for the Sierra Six himself? She opens her mouth, wanting to speak.

“I think you should take some time off for a while.” Court says.

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts.” He cuts her off. Y/N sighs, deciding it’s best to stay quiet than argue with Court.

And besides, if she does, she doesn’t trust herself not to admit that she might be falling in love with him. And that’s not a chance she’s prepared to take, to admit everything. After all, maybe she only feels that way because he saved her life? Surely she doesn’t actually love him…

Yet, she can’t ignore the way her heart twinges when she thinks that. 

Court soon pulls up outside her apartment, turning to say goodbye. In an instant, the scent of Court’s cologne, mixed with his sweat, hits her nostrils as he leans in closer, and it sends her senses ablaze. “Think you’ll be alright? Want me to walk you inside?” He asks, his voice husky. Y/N’s cheeks heat up. Court raises a brow at her, something else that sends her heart into a frenzy. “Hm?” He asks.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll be okay.” She murmurs. “Thanks again.” He looks her up and down, and she gulps. Now her heart is beating so much she swears it could break free from her chest. 

Just tell him. What’s the worst that could happen?

Everything could crash down around you. That’s what.

“Night Court.” She murmurs. For a moment, his face falls. But before she can dwell on it, wonder if it’s because of her and if he feels the same way about her, his smile is back, and he nods.

“Night Y/N.” Y/N reaches for her door handle. A strange feeling builds in her gut, as if she wants him to tell her to stay. But she pushes it down and opens her door, stepping out into the night. With one last wave, he drives away.

And Y/N is alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[hambiichu]

I am your mentor, Kid

You sneer at Kaito's words and sarcasm; he is aware of how easily you may be teased, irritated, and stubborn while working under his supervision. You hope he gives some respect from it even though you know he's trying to lighten the mood of the stressful case you two handle these weeks.            

He's experienced these situations before, even the worst ones, so you can't hold it against him.Considering that some cases are more serious than yours, you can never truly understand what it's like to be in his position.Moreover, he has a strong poker face, making it hard to tell what his true emotions are.

But, of course, you looked up to him as a mentor, and despite working at the station for two years, Kaito treated you like a beginner, even though you had some experience; in his eyes, you were still his rookie under his supervision, which irritated you to the bone.

 And, oh, you also have a secret crush on him for two years; who can blame you when you find him attractive and intelligent? That is something to fuel your delusional mind on a daily basis.

You huff at his next statement remarks, twisting your body to face Kaito, the man grinning with delight. "Ugh, you always come up with those boring repeatedly remarks and sarcasm! Can't come up with anything new?"

 Kaito puts a hand to his chest in mock offense, feigning hurt. "Oh, so you think I'm boring, huh? Is that it?" He gives you a playful glare. "You wound me, kid."  

 He concludes, "At least I am funny and kept you entertained; it would be so boring without someone like me to lighten the mood."

You scoff, not expressing that his remarks have demoralised you, even though nobody else could make the case that has been bothering you so much any easier without him.

"You're not funny," You crossed your arms because you didn't want to stroke his ego any more. He knew you too well and that you were easily defeated but couldn't accept it.

"Ouch! You hurt my feelings," exclaims Kaito, mockingly gasping. "Oh! You hurt me, kid! The majority of people called me funny, and you're the first one who said I am not." He puts his hand on his forehead and makes a fainting motion.

"Damn right I am."

Kaito lets out a wheezing chuckle, and you smile with enjoyment at your hidden crush's laughter. Without him, life would be terribly boring, so you are grateful for the little time you get to spend with him. You stayed in line since you knew you had to act professionally because the station has tight dating policies, particularly for mentors.

Though it would be a waste of time to date during these times of crisis, you hope to move on with your secret crush, Kaito. For now, though, you're enjoying the friendly banter between you and him. Maybe in another life, you're dating him, who knows? Maybe is in your delusional mind again. 

Even though you saw signs from Kaito, you dismissed them, assuming it was just pleasant banter between him and his rookie. Since you are obvious, it makes sense that those who had a crush on you in the past rejected or turned it down, as you are unable to distinguished. 

Kaito twirls his pen between his fingers, his eyes lighting up for you. "But hey, you enjoyed having me around, kid. I know you, and you can't deny me."

Giving him a warm smile and a flutter in your heart, you said, "Yeah, I like having you around. I am lucky to have you as my mentor." 

"Lucky to have me as your mentor, are you now?" He pretends to grumble, but the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

He leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms. "Maybe I should stop being so easy on you. Make you earn your place here, instead of just being my little apprentice."

He tries to keep a serious expression, but the twinkle in his eye betrays his lightheartedness.

"But really," he adds after a moment, his tone shifting from playful to earnest. "I'm glad you're here. Despite your smart mouth and tendency to drive me up the wall, you are talented and determined. And I wouldn't want anyone else at my side while solving these cases."

[annaskareninas]

I'm working on a little (rapidly spiralling) mor/emerie & valkyrie friendship wip and literally making myself emotional in the process (snippet below)

Emerie pulls back, shaking her head. “I…I…” She sits down on the chair Amren has vacated, legs feeling weak, trying to sort through everything in her head, to figure out what to tell them, how to explain. What comes out instead is, “I left you to die.”

Nesta makes a small, broken noise. Gwyn comes to kneel at Emerie’s side, her hands inches from Emerie’s own, her teal eyes wide; Emerie can’t bear to look into them, not knowing what she’ll see. “You were saving me,” she says quietly. 

“I could have gone back.” Emerie swallows. “I should have gone back.” Nesta starts to speak, but Emerie cuts her off. “I know. I know that everything was fine, that it all worked out in the end; I know. But if it hadn’t – it would have been my fault. I keep having nightmares about it, and–” She swallows again, stomach churning. “I’m a coward. I was terrified of my father. The night my mother died, he was beating me. But I ran and hid, and he couldn’t find me, but he found her. I hid as he beat my mother to death and I did nothing to stop it.” Long-suppressed tears rise in her eyes, spilling like acid down her cheeks as much as she wills them away. “I’m a coward. All this time, I was just waiting for you to realise how weak I truly am.” How else can she explain it? Nobody has ever wanted to be Emerie’s friend – only Seraphina, in childhood, but nobody has known her the way Gwyn and Nesta do and still wanted her. Nobody has bothered to look past her prickly, cold exterior to find what lurks inside. And to have all that and then to lose it – she can’t bear the idea. 

“I’ve never had control,” she finishes. “My father controlled everything in my life until he died. So after he died I went so far in the other direction, trying to control everything, and…and…if I was going to lose you – if you were going to cut me out – I’d rather it be my choice. So I isolated myself up in Windhaven these last few weeks so that – so that you wouldn’t have a chance to hurt me.”

She is silent. Gwyn is crying. Emerie is crying. Nesta is not crying: instead, she tips her head back and laughs. 

Emerie stares at her, the shock enough to stop her tears. “Wh–?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Nesta says, her silver eyes glowing. “You idiot, Em. Don’t you remember what I was like when we first met? You want to talk about cowardice, about hiding, about isolation? Trust me, I know.” 

“I couldn’t even leave the library,” Gwyn adds. “It still makes it hard for me to breathe, stepping outside.”

“But you’re here,” Emerie says weakly. Against all the odds – Gwyn is always here. The bravest of their trio, by far, and the strongest too. 

Gwyn squeezes her hand. “And so are you.” With her other hand, she taps the charm of Emerie’s bracelet. “That’s why we made these bracelets. So we would always come back to each other. Hide yourself up in Windhaven for months, if that’s what you need – we’ll always come back.”

Nesta, standing, rests a hand on her shoulder, right over her tattoo, which prickles softly. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you did in the Blood Rite. You could have not done the Rite at all. You could have given up on training and laid on the side eating chocolate whilst we practised and never even touched a sword and I’d still be your friend. I don’t love you for what you do for me, Emerie. My love for you – for both of you – is not conditional on anything. I give it to you freely; you don’t have to earn it, and so you can’t lose it. Not just like that.”

Emerie begins to cry again, burying her head in her hands, two lithely muscled sets of arms wrapping around her. How is it possible that she can be this lucky? How can these women really exist and be her friends, not anyone else’s?

[natureismynature]

if you had to assign at least 10 qsmp characters songs that fits them. what qsmp characters would you choose and which songs would it be.

(and feel free to explain your reasoning behind the choices, but you don't have to)

OOHHH FUN ASK! Thank you Anon! Now, sorry if this takes me really fuckin long to answer because I am gonna be thinking about my answers very deeply-

Foolish - Parachute by Liel Bar-Z ("I did it, I did, I jumped, I walked right off that cliff without a parachute" is SUCH a banger way to describe how qFoolish lives his life. He would just jump into situations and make brash decisions without a fallout plan JUST because he's curious about what would happen.)

Badboyhalo - Momento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage ("Momento Mori, leaves a debt. You haven't paid it yet. I never wanted to sleep" HELLO?? "My suit stayed the same, can't remember my own name, inside a timeless cage" need I explain myself???)

Jaiden - Who Am I by Besomorph ("You've given us everything and nothing at all, so why do you build us up to crumble and fall?" "I'm falling apart at the seams, I can't deny, I'm losing grip of what I knew" Just thinking about how terrible it must have felt for her when she realized she used to be part of the organization that is causing so much pain to her and her friends, yet she's still powerless... GHHH)

Baghera - Rät by Penelope Scott ("I came from scientists and atheists and white men who kill god, they make technology high quality complex physiological, experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good, they taught me everything, just like a daddy should" Thinking about Baghera thinking the Federation's her only family now... AUGHHH"

Forever - Give a Little by LeGrand ("Everyone projecting all their dreams on me, a million life plans of what they want me to be" Dude, listening to this song while thinking about Forever's story ever since he became the president? It hurts. "Just give a little, give a little, give a little, until you disintegrate")

Pac - Ship in a Bottle by fin ("You set sail alone, there is no crew. No one on deck who can help you, this is all your own battle to win, this is your ship and you are the captain" His whole story during the Happy Pills arc!! He was alone at that moment, driving his own boat, trying to save his friend and himself and everyone who could potentially be affected.)

Cellbit - Stronger by The Score ("I write truths and never fiction, my disease is what you fed, I can't stop with my ambition, like a missle on a mission, I'm a force that you will dread" Cellbit's way of dealing with the Federation, so unrelenting, never ending. They keep pushing him down and he always comes back)

Tubbo - Middle Finger by Bohnes ("So I put my middle finger up, I'm done being your slave. My generation's had enough and you should be afraid" His beef with the Federation will always be famous <3)

Roier - Pretender by AJR ("I'm a good pretender, won't you come see my show? I've got lots of problems, well, good thing nobody knows" IT'S LITERALLY HIM "Don't you think I'm clever? We laugh at all the same jokes")

Etoiles - Do What I Gotta by Naethan Apollo ("Imma do what I gotta. This city got issues, lucky for us, though, I'm a one-man armada" I don't even know enough words to express how ETOILES this song is. Just- just listen to it idgsjs)

[funforahermit]

This is not gonna make sense. This is not gonna make sense, and you don't have to read it. It's for me. I am sad. I'm so fucking sad tonight. I haven't been crying in a long time, but somehow I just can't stop now. And I feel so selfish. But I also feel so alone. But maybe I should be alone. Maybe I deserve to be alone. I need to change so much. I need to learn how to lie. I've never been able to. I've never been able to lie. I've never been able to just let it rest, to just say whatever will defuse the situation, to just say whatever. I've always cared too much, especially with the people close to me, cared too much about being perceived correctly. See it's always about me. I'm so selfish. My selfishness gets in the way of kindness. I need to stop caring about the truth of myself in order to be kind. I need to stop talking about my thoughts and my feelings, they are too complicated, nobody gets them, and nobody wants to, or needs to. I need to shut up and not care and just BE. KIND. I'm asking too much of my mother. She's old, and she's tired, and if she didn't get all my long-winded explanations the first 1000 times she won't get them the next 1000 times. Nothing I'm desperately trying to get into her head even matters, I'm just obsessed with being as truthful and accurate as possible. I need to stop. I need to stop caring about that. I need to start treating my own mother like I would treat a stranger. With kindness and without the desire to be known. And it hurts. And I hate that it hurts. It should be easy. And it would be easy if I wasn't a self-involved little bitch.

And that's not even everything. I'm also crying about the fact that I don't have any friends. Which is also my own fault. I have real life friends that I see like once a year if I'm lucky. Two of them have families, husbands, little kids, and I'm always scared of not knowing what to do or how to act when we meet. I avoid everything that scares me as a rule. Bad life choice. The third one has a way of making me feel like shit. It's complicated. And that's it, three is all there is. And online? I just can't seem to connect to anyone. I'm bad at talking, so so bad. I don't know how it works. Like am I supposed to ask you about your life? Am I supposed to ramble about mine? Isn't this boring? How am I gonna remember all of it? What happens if I don't? And what if I just wanna talk about fandom? Even in the discord supposedly dedicated to a certain person there's only like one channel in which we actually talk about that person. Well I say we, like I'm talking. I say the wrong thing and get ignored and get too scared to come back. Or sometimes someone replies something nice and it's good for two minutes, and then I don't know how to follow up and it's over. And here on tumblr I talk and talk and talk, to everyone and no one. To myself. And I watch people bond over mutual quirks and kinks that aren't mine.

I'm crying because I want to be a different person. Because I want to be someone who has friends. Because I want to be someone who knows how to have friends. To make, to have, to keep. I know none of it.

I have much to think about.

[blackieundercover]

I learned something this week.

I got into a higher grade this year, you know, the people one year above me? Yeah, I’m with them now.

My friends from the last years are a year under me.

On Monday, everyone was like:

“And how was it?”

I usually responded: “good. Nothing much happened”

“And did you make any friends ?”

“No”

“Ohhh.. it’s only the first day, you’ll make ones eventually!”

“Yeah maybe”

I knew I wouldn’t. I knew it all along. I knew it half a year from now. I knew it in the holidays, last week I knew it too. And even now I know it. But still I was hopeful. That maybe somebody would be interested in Friendship with me.

So stupid, so naïve, so pathetic.

But it did happen. I hoped. And I regret it because it ends up hurting even more.

So usually in class I’d sit there on my own. People would get seats mostly far from me. Only two girls sat next to me (probably because they had no other option). Lunch I’m on my own. Outside, at the toilet (as pathetic as it sounds) but yeah that was my week so far.

I knew people won’t talk to me. And I can’t just walk up to people and talk to them because 1) it’s super awkward if they’re not into the conversation and I’d have to see them for the next two years (+ I’m pretty much an introvert) and 2) they’re always in groups so I don’t have my space.

I hate when teachers assign work to do in group during class because it puts me in the position to ask myself : “who wants me in their group?” So awkward. I was lucky with that this week because I got asked once and the other times it was just more practical or the teacher made groups. But what if I end up alone doing a group thing? It’ll happen anytime soon, right ?

I really thought I could bare not having friends by going into that grade, but I can’t. I’m not strong or brave or anything. I’m just me. And I’m weak.

I just asked myself why I get ignored by my classmates. Because I did my best to adapt onto the fashion, be nice, smiled at people.

My conclusion:

I’m too fat. And I’m ugly.

Not matter what I do, if I’m not skinny nobody will ever want to be my friend. I’ll never be enough for anyone.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get skinny tho. I’m trying really. And I really want it. But it’s been fucking 3 years now. I should be skinny already. I should be sick by now. But I’m not.

I usually just think about ending myself.

But then I have that one friend who’s traumatized because her cousin did that. And then there’s my younger siblings that’ll be traumatized for life and my parents, well I don’t know what they’ll think or feel.

So yeah that was my rant. I’m sorry to anyone who read so far. Well I hope nobody did because it’s embarrassing

Will they like me if I’m skinny?

[bryce-hansen-hfjone]

Not funny, I didn't laugh. Your joke is so bad I would have preferred the joke went over my head and you gave up re-telling me the joke. To be honest ; this is a horrid attempt at trying to get a laugh out of me. Not a chuckle, not a hehe, not even a subtle burst of air out of my esophagus. Science says before you laugh your brain preps your face muscles but I didn't even feel the slightest twitch. 0/10. This joke is so bad I cannot believe anyone legally allowed you to be creative at all. The amount of brain power you must have put into that joke has the potential to power every house on Earth. Get a personality and learn how to make jokes, read a book. I'm not saying this to be funny I genuinely mean it on how this is just bottom barrel embarrassment at comedy. You've single handedly killed humor and every comedic act on the planet. I'm so disappointed that society has failed as a whole in being able to teach you how to be funny. Honestly if I put in all my power and time to try and make your joke funny it would require Einstein himself to build a device to strap me into so I can be connected to the energy of a billion stars to do it, and even then all that joke would get from people is a subtle scuff. You're lucky I still have the slightest of empathy for you after telling that joke otherwise I would have committed every war crime in the book just to prevent you from attempting any humor ever again. We should put that joke in text books so future generations can be wary of becoming such an absolute comedic failure. Im disappointed, hurt, and outright offended that my precious time has been wasted in my brain understanding that joke. In the time that took I was planning on helping kids who have been orphaned, but because of that you've waisted my time explaining the obscene integrity of your terrible attempt at comedy. Now those kids are suffering without meals and there's nobody to blame but you. I hope you're happy with what you have done. If that was even an insult, I did not feel any pain from that mom insult. It is the most weakest insult I have ever heard. This insult has made me frown in disgust. This is the most piss poor attempt at an insult or a joke that I have heard in my life.

SHUT YOUR COPYPASTA ASS MOUTH

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AJR lyrics which speak to my soul (in purely chronological order)

a.k.a. baring my soul into the void and finding an excuse to talk about my favourite band at the same time

When did all my friends turn into fake IDs and skinny jeans?/ I don’t belong

Sometimes I wonder if we matter at all/ if we’re not written down

And we’re just children in a world of diversion/ trying to stick it to the man before we’re grown

Like a flower sheltered in stone/ with no chance of regrowing

There’s a long day ahead/ she is lost in her bed

And why should I spend time running for my life?

I won’t forget you but I may/ forget your name

If the work gets me/ where I’m s’posed to be/ will I know I’ve made it then?/ It’s so hard/ Can we skip to the good part?

We said that we’d keep in touch/ and we did our best

Am I ready for love/ Or maybe just a best friend/ Should there be a difference?

I grew up on Disney/ but this don’t feel like Disney

I’m a little kid and so are you/ Don’t you go and grow up before I do

I thought I had the ADHD/ but that’s a real thing and I’m just lazy

Nobody knows my quirks/ cos I’m not famous, no

We’re standing, laughing at the disco ball/ like who’d invest in that if no one’s looking at it?

You haven’t got that far/ You can find a real job

Is it normal to stand here/ and wish that I was back at home?

My god, are you growing without me?/ Somebody help me

I’m kinda scared of graduation/ cos who am I when this is done?

I bet our parents always stay in love

We had to work a bit more hard/ only just to get a little bit less far

Can we keep my legos at home/ cos I wanna move out/ I don’t wanna move on

Life gives you lemons/ At least it gave you something

I was too worried how we’d end up/ I wasn’t looking and you grew up

Is this all that life’s about/ Trying to love how you turn out?/ I don’t love it much at all

Recently I’m thinking ‘bout my purpose on Earth/ but I don’t wanna think about my purpose no more/ cos it may come up short

I’ve been so good but it’s still getting harder/ I’ve been so good, where the hell is the karma?

Am I normal or not? Am I crazier than other patients?

I tripped on my ankle and fractured my elbow/ but doesn’t that mean that the tour’s gonna sell, though?

It could be passing/ Should I put eggs in more baskets?

They tell us to be different/ but no one told me I could go too far

They wanted heaven from me, I gave them hell/ Now they want something bigger, I’m overwhelmed

And I can’t be 18 my whole life/ But I’m too fucking young to feel so fucking old

It’s kinda funny how I keep debating/ if someone’s shy or if they hate me/ I feel like everyone I know right now is hooking up and getting wasted (without me)

Would you go running if you saw the real me?

It’s kinda funny how you vote for someone/ to vote for someone, to vote for someone

I worked really really really really hard, let me show you my play/ but I don’t wanna do it twice cos it’s not the same

I don’t ever think of you, I’ve got so much stuff to do/ Should have left you back at school/ Now, Joe, do you think I’m cool?

Put quinoa in my fridge, still I’m not feeling grown

The truth is that I’m screwed

I guess the last time you had any fun/ was way back when you weren’t anyone

Something’s wrong but I’m scared to look it up/ cos if I do that and no one has it/ I’ll feel so alone

Somewhere in the universe/ somewhere someone’s got it worse/ wish that made it easier/ wish I didn’t feel the hurt

And I don’t wanna cry no more/ so I set my bar real low

No, I ain’t happy yet but I’m way less sad

Well, I can’t fall asleep and I’m losing my mind/ cos it’s half past three and my brain’s on fire

And I’m trying too hard but I can’t not try

But I’m not dead yet, so I guess I’ll be alright

How lucky am I to have two things I love/ makes it that much easier to fuck it up

Am I talking too fast?/ I’m running on adrenaline and one-hour naps

I’m trying, trying, I can start Friday/ You’ve wasted your life but thanks for applying

I’m all grown up but you couldn’t tell/ Now I don’t know what to do with myself

You got older cos you’re good at life/ I’m all 17 at 35

Getting a life’s a little like dying

You think you’re hurting me/ Bet you won’t believe it but you kinda set me free

I’d do it in person but I’d probably mess it up/ I’ll text you, that’s enough