#i started genuinely sobbing eight minutes in

[interpolationz]

i am not okay-

[a-heart-attack-ow]

The Arrangement. Part nine

Part Eight

Part Nine: Smut/Unedited

A line of unmarked black cars cascaded up the winding driveway of our estate. A parade of cars that seemed like an ominous omen of what was to come next. I stand there, looking out the gigantic circular window overlooking the front lawn, my eyes tired from the night before. Colby Brock had called in his associates for whatever he had planned to do next.

Regardless of the consequences.

I shake the thought from my head as a quiet voice comes from behind me. 

“Are you ready?”

Sam rasps, his hand on the small of my back. I glance over my shoulder and breathe a deep sigh. He looked at me slowly, noting what I was wearing. A pair of skinny jeans, oxfords, and a blue sweater. Kris had put my hair up in a half up and down look, the updo part supported by a blue bow, which looked like something Belle from Beauty and the Beast would wear. It was a more casual look but I figured I didn’t need to dress up for whatever revenge plot Colby was cooking up. It was clothing that I would’ve worn before my new life started a year ago.

Clothing that felt more like me for the first time in so long.

I nod feebly and turn to face him, our eyes meeting. For a moment he allowed his eyes to drift to my stomach, the nonexistent baby bump was almost enough for me to believe I’d dreamed everything up. But the blood test I’d taken confirmed it, I was pregnant.

I was pregnant with Colby Brock’s baby.

Though no one could tell yet, it was still too early. A look moves to Sam’s face as he reaches forward to place a hand on the side of my face. For a moment I froze, because he never touched me like this. He breathes a deep sigh, his thumb lightly grazing my cheekbone. He swallows hard when he sees the look of confusion move to my eyes and then he moves his hand from me. It looks like there’s something he wants to tell me, but he doesn’t. It's the same look that I’d seen once or twice throughout the duration of my first year of marriage. My marriage to his best friend and adopted brother. 

“Sam? Is something wrong?”

I ask. Genuine concern starts to overtake me as I look at him. I don’t know what’s got him being like this with me. I don’t know if it's because he found out I was pregnant two days ago and he was being a protective friend or if he knew something I didn’t know. Whatever it was, it caused me great pain to see him looking at me like this. 

At first he doesn't respond, only takes my hands in his, his thumb tracing over the wedding ring and wedding band that I haven’t taken off since I got married. He traces the gaudy design in silence for several minutes before he dares to look up at me. 

“Colby is so lucky to have you...”

He sounds almost bitter when he says this. 

“... He’s always been so careless when it comes to loving someone. Always seemed to be in it for the sex and he didn’t care who he fucked over in the process. He’s hurt a lot of people in pursuit of his own desires, but with you…”

He pauses once more, his hands gripping mine a little firmer. As if to drive his point home. 

“... With you he’s been so different. But if he ever does anything to hurt you again I don’t think I could forgive him. I love him too much to let him make that mistake and I love you too much to let him treat you that way…”

At first I think he’s saying he loves me like a sister-in-law, but when he looks at me he continues speaking.

“... Over the past seven months, when Colby got distant with you, when we started spending everyday together hanging out, that’s when I fell for you. When you came home from that event sobbing I wanted to hit him, seeing you upset because of him, drove me insane. I love you and I just wanted to say it out loud once.”

His admission causes my heart to skip a beat and for shock to reach my face. For a few minutes neither of us speaks as we study each other closely. I don’t know what has brought this on, but I knew that we didn’t have the time to get into this now. I knew that I didn’t feel the same way about him. Even if he was one of the best people I’d ever known, Colby was my person and nothing was going to change that. 

“Sam, I’m sorry. I-”

I attempt to say, but he cuts me off with a small smile.

“I know you love him and I know that it was wrong for me to get those feelings. I will deal with my shit, but I just wanted you to know because keeping it to myself had been really fucking hard Emilia.”

I smile back at him and give his hands a firm squeeze this time. Sam had become the brother I always wanted and I felt bad that this had happened. But I was glad that he understood how I felt. 

“I already told Colby.”

He rasps quietly, his eyes on the ground in shame. I feel my stomach drop for a moment as I try to mentally picture how my husband handled that conversation. 

“Oh?”

Is all I can manage in response, my eyes searching Sam’s face for any sort of indication of how it went. Especially since Colby hadn’t bothered to tell me what his best friend and adopted brother had said. Sam sighs moving his hands from mine to swoop his bangs to the side, exposing a black and blue fist sized bruise on the side of his head. My jaw drops as my hands move to my mouth in shock. I only get a good look at it for a second before he swoops his bangs back into place. 

“I’m sorry he hurt you.”

I manage softly, his shoulders shrugging like it’s no big deal. 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if another guy who was close with my wife told me he was in love with her. I’m sorry to spring things on you. I just had to get it off of my chest.”

I give him another small smile as Celina’s voice carries up the stairs, my eyes meeting hers at the bottom when I look around Sam. 

“Get down here you two.”

He breathes a sigh and extends his arm to link with mine so we can go down the stairs. When I link with him, he makes sure to slowly guide me down the stairs. 

“You know I’m not that pregnant that I can’t manage the stairs.”

I whisper to him, with a playful grin on my face. He rolls his eyes and smiles back. 

“You’re literally carrying precious cargo. I’m not risking you tripping down these stairs. I’m already on Colby’s shit list and that’s the last thing I need.”

I can’t help but laugh at the logic, a deep hearty laugh that I needed to release after that brief moment of tension up stairs. A laugh that Sam returns. However, my husband’s face looks less enthused when we reach the bottom of the stairs and he sees us both cracking up. Jealousy seems to find a home in his eyes when Sam and I unlink arms and I make my way over to him. He stares at his brother for a few seconds before leaning down to press his lips to mine. Pulling my body in against his as he deepens the kiss. Putting on a show in front of his brother as if to say ‘she’s mine’. I break the kiss when I realize what he’s doing and our eyes meet. 

“Colbs. Everyone already knows who I belong to.”

I whisper just for him to hear, his eyes fixated on me. His breathing is uneven and I can see the lust burning deep within him. He likes it when I say that I belong to him, likes it even better when I say it and he’s deep inside of me. I smirk up at him, through innocent eyes that seem to taunt him. 

“Baby, you’re playing a dangerous game…”

He growls back at me, as quietly as I had spoken moments before.

“... When this meeting is over. I’m going to fuck you so hard you never doubt who you belong to.”

A chill moves up my spine at his words, but I don’t let any physical reaction show as I take a step back. I look over my shoulder, into the living room and sigh when I look at his friends who’d come today. All of them were doing their own thing, Sam just now joining them. I didn’t know why Colby had invited Corey, Johnnie, Jake, and Nate, but I didn't question it. He told me not to, so I didn’t. I knew that I needed to keep my head down and focus on our baby, not whatever was up his sleeve. 

“Hey Kris and Celina?”

Colby asks, the two girls moving from the living room where everyone else is. Joining us as Colby takes a step back from me. 

“Do you think you two could distract my wife for a few hours? I have an important meeting I’m going to be holding in my office. I don’t want her getting any ideas about eavesdropping.”

He shoots me a playful look before turning his attention to the girls. They answer him back with friendly ‘sures’ and he gives me one last kiss on the forehead before going into the living room. He tells the guys they’re going to be going into his office and they all leave without so much as a second glance. Leaving us all alone. 

“Anyone feel like that was a little sexist?”

Kris jokes, Celina and I laughing. It felt weird for sure. Why would I need to be distracted? Was this work related? What did he need to talk about that I couldn’t hear about? I tried to consider that maybe he was just trying to keep me from stressing out and that’s why he didn’t want me near the meeting. I look at the girls and smile. I can’t think of what to say to them, suddenly feeling awkward, so I decide to try and get out of the house. 

“Anyone want to go for a walk? I’ve lived here for over a year and I still haven’t seen all of the grounds. It might be nice to make this place feel more like a home.” 

Celina looks from me to Kris with a look of suspicion. Knowing full well that this home felt more like a museum I was forced to stay in than a real home. 

“We can, but I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Celina says, her eyes narrowing at me for a moment. She can see right through me and I’m too excited to not say anything. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

I say with a small smile, hoping they don’t judge me too harshly. They might not have said it out loud, but I’d seen the looks they’d give Colby when he was an ass. They’d seen the way that he treated me and they’d seen how hard this adjustment had been. Now, having a baby just took that adjustment up several notches. 

They both look at me in genuine shock. Both faces look serious as they process what I’ve said. Something that makes me wish I hadn’t said anything at all. My smiles fades and I look at the two of them feeling any joy I felt flee. 

“Is he going to step up?” 

Is all Kris asks, her face slightly more sympathetic now that she sees how the joy I’d been feeling has faded. 

“He says that he is.” 

My voice replies, sounding small and slightly ashamed. They probably thought I was ridiculous for being excited for even a moment. They knew that our relationship had been volatile at times. They knew that the main focus of our relationship was sex, but they didn’t know that it was loving too. That was something that we hadn’t been great at showing others, it was even harder when Colby pulled his latest bullshit. I realize they were right to be weary and I have to remind myself to be weary too. I have to remind myself that he still needed to prove himself to me. 

“He better or Sam might kill him...”

Celina states, more to herself than anyone else, a statement that earns a look from Kris. A look that tells me they were well aware of how Sam felt about me.

“Did he tell you guys?”

I ask, my voice unable to hide the shock I feel. Did everyone know about this before I did?

“...We’re really close friends and we have been for the past five years. Colby’s always been distant and doing his own thing, but Sam is the reason we started working here. He’s the only one who’s ever taken the time to actually talk to us and not just boss us around.” 

Mentally, I think back to every interaction Colby has had with both Kris and Celina and realize, to my horror, that they were right. He didn’t treat them like friends, even if he let them come over and spend time with me or Sam. He kept everyone at arm’s length until he needed something from them. A thought that I’d had on more than one occasion. 

About my own relationship with him.

“I’m sorry.”

I whisper, feeling selfish and idiotic. I couldn’t understand how I could quickly forget his shortcomings. Was I willingly allowing him to treat the people I cared about like this? What would I do if he was like this with our child? 

“You don’t need to say sorry. We’re sorry for being negative. We are happy for you and I know that you’re going to be an amazing mom.We just want him to be better for you.”

Kris says this hopefully, as if her words can take away the mixed emotions falling over me. My eyes meet both of the women standing in front of me, their eyes more sympathetic with fake encouragement laced on their face and suddenly I don’t want to hangout with anyone anymore. Regardless of what Kris had just said to me. Suddenly I just want to go upstairs and cry myself to sleep. 

–

Everyone leaves eight hours later. 

The house is eerily quiet as I stood in the kitchen all alone. I’d sent Celina and Kris home for dinner, along with our kitchen staff. I didn’t like relying on other people to do everything for me. It didn’t feel right, I used to cook for my dad every night. I used to clean for fun (all while listening to my cleaning playlist on my phone). I used to do so much more than be a doll who dressed up and did what she was told. So I stood in the kitchen with cooked jumbo shells and a bowl of ricotta filling. It had been so long since I made stuffed shells and it made me think of my dad. It was his favorite thing I cooked. The thought of him tugs at my heartstrings, my eyes watering as I fill the shells up and start lining them in the pan. I hum to myself to fill the silence and fall into a steady pace as I fill the pan. Once I’ve filled it with the shells, I open the tomato sauce and cover the shells and add the mozzarella on top. I slide the food into the oven and breathe a deep sigh.

“Okay, now it just needs to cook for 25 minutes.”

I whisper to myself, my focus turning to the sink behind me. I begin to wash the dishes I’ve dirtied when I hear a loud sound come from behind me. The sound of voices shouting from behind a closed door. I want to investigate but know that I can’t leave the food unwatched. I breathe another deep sigh and dry my hands off. Grabbing the pot holders I slide them on and take the food out of the oven. Once it’s safely out and set on top of the stove I investigate the sound of shouting I’d heard before. 

Down the long corridor connecting that leads out of the kitchen is Colby’s office door, which is where the sounds of shouting were coming from. The rest of the guests had left over an hour ago, but Sam had remained in the office. From where I am standing I can’t quite make out what is being said, but the muffled voices are booming from the otherside. Out of curiosity I place my ear against the door, my focus on whatever words I can pick up. 

“This will work Sam!”

Colby’s voice sounds like venom when he speaks, each letter biting.

“If we follow the plan then Emilia’s father will be safe. We just have to get him to the safe house.  If we take away the leverage they have over her then that’s a start. We just have to plan how it won’t get tracked back to us.”

I feel my heart start to beat in my chest when I hear the sound of Colby’s voice talking about my father. What were they planning? I hear Sam sigh, his voice tired as if they’d gone over what to do for hours.

“I think the plan of attack needs to come from me. Mom and dad have always been blind to any of the things I’ve done that are unsavory. They act like I'm an angel or something, but it’s my fault that we are even in this position in the first place.” 

My heartbeat quickens when I hear him say this. From the other side of the door I hear Colby breathe a deep sigh. A dangerous growl that seems to indicate that he’s on the verge of losing it on his brother. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He asks Sam in confusion. Sam lets out a bitter laugh, like he’s uncomfortable with what he’s going to admit to.

“Mom and dad let it slip that someone stole money from them. They needed someone to scare the person who owed them money. They didn’t go to you because they’ve been pissed at you since you went blabbing to some reporter when you were drunk at the bar. So, they sent me out. Gave me a gun that is identical to a real gun and I broke into some guy's house and intended on scaring him into paying mom and dad back. His daughter came home and started begging for me not to hurt him. She’d just come home from a night class and she looked so fucking scared and I didn’t mean to scare her. But then she offered herself up to spare his life and I had an idea. Mom and dad had been planning to put you in an arranged marriage for months and when I saw her. This beautiful, green-eyed, sweet little thing I knew that she would be perfect for you.”

I feel sick hearing Sam speak. The night replaying in my mind. The night I’d come home and saw a masked man with a gun to my father’s head. The blue eyes that had looked back at me as I offered myself up to save my dad. The man who laughed in my face and told me he knew what he was going to do with me was Sam. 

The Sam that held me through the roughest moments of my life. Who’d become my best friend here. The man who’d told me he was in love with me hours ago. He was the reason I was here now. He was the reason I entered into this marriage. He was the reason for all of it and it made me sick. Because I trusted him more than anything and he’d done this. I cover my mouth to hold in the tears that escape me. 

“You helped cause all of this?”

Colby asks in disbelief. Shock is laced into his words and I can only imagine the look he’s giving his brother. Whatever he’s doing Sam is quick to defend himself. 

“You should be thanking me. Honestly, she’s perfect for you and for our family. When I saw her I knew you’d like her. She’s your type only better because she’s not a random skank who is going to ruin our family’s image. She’s perfect, beautiful, kind, and you wouldn’t be with her had I not made an executive decision.”

I feel sick. My stomach turns and I don’t know how to feel. Yes, I’d met the love of my life because of Sam. But my dad, my entire world, was getting hurt because of it. I keep my mouth covered as Sam speaks again. 

“Remember what I did for you the next time your fucking her sweet little pussy. Remember what I did for you whenever the tabloids have something nice to say about you for once. And remember that, had it not been for me, you would’ve ended up with someone who wouldn’t have played by the rules. Our sweet little Emilia is the only one who could’ve gotten us here. She’s bringing new life to our family and it’s all because I made it so.” 

The way he says our makes the hair on my neck stand on end. Like they both own me. With shaking hands I go to grab the door knob, my hand resting on the cold gold for a moment. Colby says something harsh to Sam, but I can’t bring myself to listen to the words. Instead, I move my hand from the door knob and walk away. 

Clinging to the wall of the corridor I retreat back to the kitchen. I put the food back into the oven and stood there in utter shock. I hear the office door open and the shouting resumes, but travels away from me. As if Colby is kicking Sam out for the night. The front door slams so loud that it almost feels like the house is going to crumble around it. I tremble as I hear Colby’s feet travel down the hallway. 

“My love?”

He calls, when he’s unsure of where I’ve gone. With a shaking breath I reply out of fear of worrying him. 

“I’m in the kitchen.”

I call back lifelessly. All I can do is think of Sam’s eyes. Now when I picture his pale blue eyes I can see it. 

I can see that night. 

How could I not see it before? How could I have spent so much time being with him and getting to know him and not see it? We’d spent nearly every day together for well over a year and I had no idea. He had been so scared the night he found the severed ear of my father. He had held me through any of the loneliness I’d felt with Colby. And he’d been so kind to me whenever I needed it, but it was him. This entire thing happened because he was doing what mommy and daddy wanted him to do. He’d threatened my dad and used me as collateral for his family image. Used my dad as leverage for whenever I didn’t do as I was told. Suddenly I didn’t know if I could ever face Sam again. How could he have said he loved me earlier when he’d done all of this? All of this without telling me? Maybe we could’ve moved past this if he’d been honest with me from the beginning, before the maiming of my father. Before he’d got his hooks in me and befriended me. I can’t stop the tears from hitting me, even as Colby enters the room, his eyes finding me. Without saying a word he knows that I know everything that was said. He can tell that I’m utterly devastated and betrayed. The same look that he wears on his face mirrors mine. We’d both been played by Sam. 

“Emilia-I-I’m so sorry-”

I cut him off by placing my hand in front of me, gesturing for him to stop. He sounds so broken when he speaks and the tears in his eyes are legitimate as he takes a step forward. Without saying anything I pull him in for a hug and bury my head in his chest. I hold onto him tightly as if hugging him could take away the pain of this newest discovery. He holds onto me too, his head on top of mine.

“... It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

His nod to our unborn child makes my heart swell, my arms squeezing him firmly. We remain like this for several minutes before I dare to pull back and look at him. His blue eyes are filled with concern as we look at each other. He’s unsure of what to do or say. 

Because he knew nothing he said could change what happened. 

“I’m cooking dinner.” 

I rasp when I can’t think of anything else to say. I didn’t even know how to unpack every single emotion washing over me. He gives me the smallest smile and places his hands on either side of my face, his thumbs brushing the stray tears away. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

He asks. 

“From when you started talking about a safe house for my father. I heard what Sam said. I heard all of it.”

A nod is all he gives me at first as he mulls over what to say next. 

“He’s going to be staying with some friends for the time being. I told him we both need space to process everything.”

It’s my turn to nod and process. Suddenly I’m thankful that he’s being level headed for the both of us. We both felt betrayed and it was all so raw right now. Space would be the best thing for everyone involved. Even though a small part of me wanted to slap him for saying what he said and doing what he did. 

“Now, what do you need from me?”

He asks, trying to do whatever he can to help me through this. I pondered the question for a moment before deciding on what I needed at this moment. Here, in his arms and with these feelings that felt like they were going to break me into a thousand pieces, I needed a distraction. I needed him to distract me and make me feel something else. 

Anything else but this.

“I need you.”

The desperation in my voice gives my desires away immediately. For a second my husband looks down at me in confusion, only to replace the expression with a dark look of desire.

“How do you need me?”

He asks, his voice deeper as he leans down to press his lips to mine. He deepens the kiss instantly, his tongue in my mouth. I can feel that he needs this distraction too. That he’s hurting as much as I am and in need of reprieve. I feel his hands move to my waist as he lifts me up off of the floor to the counter top. He spreads my jean covered legs apart and stands between them as his hands find my hair. His lips never seem to leave mine, not even when he needs to take a breath. 

“I need you to fuck me, so hard I never doubt that it’s you I belong to.”

Repeating his prior words towards me is enough to send him spinning. He pulls my body in against his, removing what little space had been between the both of us. The way his hands tangle in my hair and the gentle pull they give me is almost too much to bear. I can feel myself getting wetter the longer we remain like this. 

“How long does that have to cook for?”

He asks, wanting to know how long we have before the oven interrupts us. I can’t help but giggle when he says this, amused by the question. An action that causes him to groan against my lips. 

“20 minutes.”

Is all I reply as he lifts me off of the kitchen counter. He guides us to the kitchen table, staring down at me for a moment before his hands move to the button of my jeans. He undoes them and slowly drags them down my body, pulling them off with my pair of oxfords. My clothing gets tossed to the floor without any consideration, his hands moving to my underwear. A smirk finds his lips when he sees how wet I am. 

“Fuck.”

He groans when he pulls the underwear down my legs, eyes fixated on my arousal. The care he’d put into tossing my clothing away is the same with my underwear, adding them to the pile. I can’t look away from him as he watches me. Quietly debating what he wants to do next. He turns his attention to the sweater I was still wearing. He gets on top of me on the table, his lips finding mine once more as he kisses me, I feel the ghost of his hands moving the sweater up my torso. He’s so gentle as he does this that it causes a chill to move up my spine. Goose bumps form on my arms as he pulls my sleaves off of me. He pauses his kisses long enough to lift the sweater over my head and off of my body. I hear the fabric fall to the floor, and I can’t help but whimper at the loss of his lips as he starts to kiss down my neck. His lips travel down my throat and to my chest, kissing up to the valley between my breasts. 

Our eyes lock as he uses his teeth to unclasp the front of my strapless bra, removing the last peice of fabric on my body. Once the bra is gone he continues kissing down the valley of my breasts, stopping on ly when he decides to give my left nipple attention. He uses his mouth to suck the sensitive bud of my breast, his free hand carefully messaging the other breast. My body arches into him as he does this relentless assult on my breasts. I knew if this lasted too much longer I would cum. 

He knew it too.

Which is why I am not surprised when he stills his actions and gets off of me. I look at him, my chest rising and falling as he moves his hands to his black button up. 

“Can you touch yourself while I undress baby doll?”

He asks, his eyes on me as he waits for me to do as I’ve been told. Realizing he won’t undress himself until I’ve done as I’d been instructed. I slowly moved my hands down my torso, our eyes never leaving one another. My hands reach down to my slick sex. He unbuttons one button and waits until I’ve dipped my index finger into my wet folds before resuming. I can’t help but moan at the sensation of finger fucking myself. It was the same as when he did it, but I was so sensitive that even my fingers offered some relief.

But only some.

“Hmm, that’s my girl.”

He practically purrs as he finally completely undoes my shirt. The fabric finding its place in the pile on the floor. 

“Add another finger baby.”

He speaks in a lower register. His hands on his jean button.  My heart skip a beat as I add another finger, anothe rmoan escapes me. I slowly pump my fingers in and out of myself. The entire time I do this I can’t help but think about how much better this would feel if it was his fingers inside of me. My eyes flutter closed as I bring myself closer to the edge. His pants fall to the ground and I hear his shoes lightly thud to the floor. 

“That’s enough baby. Daddy doesn’t want you to cum until I’ve had my chance to play with you.”

His hands still my actions and before I truly have to process it. His lips are on mine once more. His hands pulling my fingers away from where I need them the most. I whimper at the loss of them. The loss only lasts for a moment before I feel the tip of his hardened cock at the entrance of my soaked sex. I make make sure to open my eyes and stare directly at Colby as he slowly sinks his hardened length inside of me. His jaw clenches and his lips part as he pushes himself as far as he can inside of me. A small gasp of pleasure escapes me the moment he’s inside of me. 

“Colby.”

I whisper his name, unable to say or think of anyone else. He chuckles, knowing all too well that he’s scrambled my mind before even moving inside of me. He pushes his lips back to mine as he guides his hands to either side of my lips. He lifts me up slightly  and starts to move. His thrusts are careful as my elevated hips allow for him to hit deeper inside of me. 

With every thrust I feel like I could cum without warning. Every movement felt euphoric. After a while I can feel myself moving to meet his thrusts. My body in desperate need of a resolution to my climax. Careful groans pass his lips as he soaks me in, savoring each second he’s inside of me. 

“Does my sweet little wife need to cum?”

He mumbles against my lips in between kisses. I hum in response when I can’t think of actual words to say. Which earns a hum from him in response. He quickens his pace. With each thrust he’s sloppier and sloppier as our bodies both reach our highs aand we come undone. 

We cum together. Both of us falling into a heap of breathlessness. 

Neither of us speaks as we collect ourselves. Both of our bodies tired from the range of emotions we’d felt today. He smiles down at me sweetly, his eyes flicking over to the stove before returning back to me. 

“How about we eat what you cooked, have some sparkingling grape juice, since someone is preventing you from drinking, and watch a show?”

He lightly places his hand on my stomach when he mentions our unborn child as the reason for drinking grape juice. He stares down at my stomach in wonder. I don’t think it had hit him that we were expecting. It still didn’t feel real to me either. Something that I knew would change as my body changed. Without speaking he places his lips on my stomach, giving me a soft kiss.

“I love you little one. I promise to be a better parent than what I had.”

He looks up at me and smiles once more. He looks so genuinely happy and it’s enough to make my eyes fill with tears. Was Sam right? Should we be thanking him for bringing us together? Where would we be if he never did what he did? Its an unbearable thought. 

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

But even still, I couldn’t just forgive him. Colby might’ve been an ass at times, but he was always up front with me about who he was. He never tried to hide it. 

Even when I wished he would’ve.

Sam’s betrayal stung because he’d hidden this from me. Even when I overheard him speaking to Colby he didn’t sound like the Sam I’d gotten to know. I look at Colby, blinking back the tears as he helps me up off of the table, his hands careful and cautious. 

“I would really like that Colby.”

I whisper as I think of how much we both needed a night of normalcy. After everything that happened today, we deserved a nice relaxing night in. But I couldn’t shake the fear of what tomorrow could bring. 

The fear of a new day and whatever Hell could come with it.

[reina-tries-2-write]

The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 2: Origin of Silence

SYNOPSIS: Your life has been full of struggles, sorrow, and happiness. You worked hard to get where you are today and are very proud of your progress. You reflect on how far you've come as you sleep soundly before your first full day at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

WC: 2.2K

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Your cursed technique is called Energy Flux. Not only are you able to hear cursed energy but you can manipulate it as well. It’s a powerful technique as you are able to enhance, redirect, and disrupt cursed energy. Additionally, you can drain others of their cursed energy to weaken them or oppositely, give cursed energy to an ally to aid them in their own attacks. But you can also overdo it.

You felt the crackling of cursed energy flowing through you and your vision started to spin. You’d overdone it. Stumbling around in an attempt to get back into your house, you fell to your knees as they buckled underneath you. Your vision swam and blurred until your surroundings were unrecognizable. Then your limited sight tunneled and blackness overtook you.

You have to be careful. You always have and you always will.

You were born deaf. That’s just the way you came into the world. You’ve never been able to hear any voices or music or pleasant noises. The doctors and audiologists couldn’t exactly figure out why you were deaf since your ears and brain seemed to work fine. They just assumed there was a connection you were missing that they couldn’t quite nail down. That for some reason, your brain just couldn’t process sound. Or so they thought.

You were six when you discovered that you were the only one who could hear the buzzing, crackling, and humming noises of the world around you. You did your best to explain how it changed volume and type around different people but your audiologist wasn’t having it. In fact, the guy was so rude and generally awful that he recommended you to a psychiatrist because there was no explanation for the sounds you were ‘hearing’ so they must be in your head.

‘No, they’re really there, I promise. Like you sound like—” You were cut off by a wave from your audiologist.

He said something to you, his lips moving rapidly, but you hadn’t learned to read lips yet.

What did he say to you? He looks mad. Is he mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Did you? Were you supposed to be hearing these noises? Why were you hearing them? Why didn’t he believe you?

Worried and doing their best, you parents listened. None of the medication ever did anything but make you feel tired and foggy and you eventually refused to take it. Your mom understood how you felt but your dad was a bit more reluctant to let you stop the meds, just wanting you to ‘get better’. Whatever that meant.

Not long after you stopped the medication, around the time you were eight, you started to discover you could do things no one else could. The noises you were hearing were like electricity and you found out you could control this. You could give it and take it and move it around and make it into shapes. It was invisible but the feelings and sounds were very real to you.

But this discovery only lead to more medication, your parents thinking you were genuinely hallucinating now. The few friends you had stopped playing with you at school and all of the parents would give you disapproving looks, like there was something wrong with you.

For a while, you did believe there was something wrong with you and agreed to try different medications and treatments. However, your emotions only made the sounds worse and you started to control the energy unintentionally.

You were sitting in the middle of your wrecked room, sobbing into your shaking hands. Items were strung about in the whirlwind that had happened minutes earlier. It was like you had caused a tornado to form around you, flinging loose items all over the place. Broken glass from picture frames, your toys and books were littered on the floor around the small pristine circle you were sitting in. What was wrong with you?

After a particularly violent outburst, your mental health slowly deteriorated— you stopped eating, avoided everyone, and refused to communicate. It got so bad you found yourself in an institution right after your tenth birthday. But you were grateful for the experience because your doctor brought in someone on your third day.

“Y/N, we have a visitor for you.” One of the doctors said, opening the door to your plain room.

Behind him was a shorter balding man who gave you a surprisingly gentle smile as he walked inside. He pulled your desk chair out and sat down in front of you where you were curled up on the bed.

“Hi, I’m Edo. I heard about your case and I think I can help.” He signed to you.

He can sign? He wanted to help? He doesn’t look like a doctor. He’s not wearing doctor clothes so how is he gonna help you? Does he know something the doctors don’t know?

“You can make the noises go away?” You ask curiously.

“I can’t make them go away but I do know what they are.” He explains.

“Do you hear them too?” You inquire, sitting up and scooting forward.

He shakes his head. “You seem to be the only person in the whole world who can hear them which makes you exceptionally special.”

“I am?” You reply, head tilted to the side in confusion.

How did hearing these noises make you special? They were just electricity type noises. They weren’t like how music or voices feel.

“Yes. You are able to see into part of the world that not a lot of people can see. Have you ever seen little monsters around?” He asks you, a bushy brown brow raised.

Turns out, you weren’t crazy, you were just unique. Edo explained curses and cursed energy and it all made sense to you. That’s what you were controlling. To your slight disdain, you ability to hear the energy was unheard of but Edo reassured you it wasn’t a disadvantage in the slightest if you could learn to harness it.

The weight of your fear of not being right— of being broken lifted off your little shoulders in that moment.

You weren’t crazy. They were wrong. You’re special.

You were out of the hospital the next day and after your parents saw the difference Edo made in your life, allowed you to go live with him. You still saw your parents often since Edo didn’t live very far away but you were enrolled in a new school.

The first two months of school were tough for you. Not only did you have to be the new kid, but you were the deaf new kid and the interpreter that followed you around only made you stand out further.

On top of school, you were doing lessons with Edo on how to control and manipulate cursed energy. That was particularly draining but you powered through.

You met Mari and Kai a couple months in and after a few sign language lessons, the three of you became inseparable. They were the weird kids too but the three of you were the perfect little band of misfits in your book.

“I like being the weird kids.” Kai signs out of the blue one day while the three of you were in the cafeteria for lunch.

“Why? Everyone looks at us funny.” Mari counters, her expression one of slight disgust.

“Cause they think we’re cool. Why would they look if we weren’t interesting?” Kai replies with his characteristic toothy smile.

“I don’t care what they think. I like you guys and that’s what matters to me.” You add, flashing the pair a massive smile.

The next six years of your life were the best ones you’d ever had. You were learning about cursed energy and how to harness it, how to interpret the noise it made, and spending time with actual friends.

“Ugh! Edo! This is stupid!” You complain, smacking your palms against your forehead.

“It’s not stupid. You’re just learning. Mistakes are a part of that. You don’t see it but you’re doing really well.” He reassures with his characteristic encouraging smile.

“Fine. One more time and if I mess up, we’re done.” You concede with a huff.

He nods and begins to walk you through the move again, more determined to get it down and finally control your technique in this way. You focused and calmed down, knowing this was your last try. It didn’t matter if you messed up, you were gonna be done anyway.

But to your surprise, you successfully manipulated the energy and completed his task to perfection.

“There you go! Atta girl! I told you you could do it! You can always do it.” Edo congratulates, giving you a hug.

You felt on top of the world in that moment, having just harnessed one of the hardest moves Edo had taught you so far. But happiness is always interrupted and your world got turned upside down five months before you turned seventeen.

Edo died.

He’d gotten called to back up some other sorcerers in a particularly nasty battle with an overwhelming number of special grade curses and never came home.

“I’m very sorry.” The tall man at your doorstep concludes.

You freeze in fear. “No! You— He can’t be!” You stutter out, feeling your emotions creeping up though your chest.

“I’m afraid he is. Again, my condolences.” He repeats to your horror.

Your chest tightens and the look in his eyes says everything it needs to. Edo really was gone.

You shoved past him, racing into the woods behind the house. You sprinted as deep into the thicket as you could as tears streamed down your face. You were going to lose control and if there was a place to do it, it was here, deep in the woods where you couldn’t hurt anyone.

You finally dropped to your knees in a small clearing and unleashed your feelings. You screamed as loud as you could, clutching your chest as you felt the vibrations escaping you. Your eyes were squeezed shut so you didn’t see the devastation around you. Trees cracked and broke, falling away from you, the ground got kicked up and the top layer of soil and grass blew away, sticks and branches and bushes flew all about in the explosion of your emotions.

When your voice gave out, you gasped for breath from your extended scream, emptying your lungs of everything they had. Opening your eyes, you surveyed the damage as best you could with the tears in your eyes. You were knelt in a small circle of grass in the middle of the devastation you had unleashed on the forest. You had decimated a massive portion of the foliage, a fifty meter diameter circle of destruction around you. Fallen trees, piles of leaves and dirt and branches littered the edge of the circle of dirt.

Your sobbing didn’t stop and you sat in the middle of the clearing, head in your hands as you let out all your emotions.

They took him from you. The one person who truly got you and helped you and made you feel a little less alone in your silent world. They took him from you. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. What were you gonna do?

Mari and Kai were there for you through it all and you eventually reached a breaking point, telling them all about your world of curses and sorcery. They were understanding and the only people who didn’t think you were crazy for it.

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this but you don’t have to be alone. And I promise we don’t think you’re crazy for it. We believe you.” Mari signs sympathetically.

“Anything you need, we can do. You’re like family you know.” Kai adds before giving you a hug.

You had to move back in with your parents and when you returned home, they felt like strangers. Your mom seemed pretty wary and distant and your dad looked like he could care less about you, clearly having given up on you ‘getting better’. Needless to say, you spent a lot of time couch-surfing at Mari and Kai’s houses.

But you weren’t hopeless for long. Edo had some connections that were complicated and above your head but somehow, you were guaranteed admission to a special sorcerer school in Tokyo. Albeit the profession was dangerous and you could turn out just like he had, but you didn’t care. Unfortunately, you got enrolled late to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech but you were still almost desperate to go. You wanted to do it for Edo.

You had a purpose now.

You knew why he trained you— what he trained you for. Edo taught you to use your ability for good, to help people, protect people from unseen horrors.

“I know you can do it. You’re gonna struggle, you’re gonna fail, life is gonna suck sometimes. But you can push through. You’re stronger than you think you are and you are more capable than you know. Being deaf isn’t a limitation. It’s your unique way to help. You know I love you and believe in you.” Edo told you with a soft smile.

The signed words on his hands slowly faded away into nothingness and you blinked your eyes open in the morning sun filtering through your curtains as you woke up. You took in your brand new dorm room, all of your things organized and set up how you liked, and you couldn’t help the massive smile that crept up on your face. In spite of all your fears and anxiety, you were here. You were here and you were going to do this. You could do this.

And you were gonna kick ass just like Edo knew you could.

[almond-tofu-chan]

i have never been angrier in my entire fucking life, it is taking every fiber of my being to not actually punch someone right now /srs

so this fucking show im assistant directing, WAS assistant directing, i quit because it was hell. the director is this piece if shit entitled bitch who doesnt know or care how to run a good show. i signed up to assistant direct, ended up babysitting a bunch of kids from four to six every day five days a week. while i was doing the job I DIDNT SIGN UP TO DO i was verbally berated, abused, mistreated, and taken advantage of at every possible corner. when i learned tech week would be till eight i fucking quit

heres where i get fucking pissed: the kids were amazing. theyre a bunch of talented, bright actors who are absolutely lovely, and for most of them this is their first show. i understandably feel awful for quitting, plus the bitch director hates me nowc but i show up to opening night to cheer them on

i want to kill this woman

kids are crying, shes yelling at them backstage constantly, lighting and sound cues dont work, choreo and blocking are nonexistent, so are props and costumes and set: everything needed to make a show a show is absent or so shoddily put together that it genuinely looked like it was going to fall apart

and the kids are amazing, they do so well with what theyre given and theyre so good and talented and im serious when i say theyre all gonna go far, if it werent for the fucking director

show starts 20 minutes late because she hasnt finished playbills, curtains are see through and on yhe verge of collapse at all times, they're doing this show in a HIGH SCHOOL CAFETERIA btw, all the costumes she got yesterday from thriftsmart, she got kids ti make all the props and set and it shows, and she never told crew what to do, so shes yelling at them constantly while giving them no direction at all. a crew kid is forced on stage at one point to turn on someones mic, he was crying

i had to comfort no less than four crying kids afterwards, all sobbing because she had yelled at them and berated them for no goddamn reason other than the thrill of the power trip

oh and btw, the second the show ended she disappeared. didnt talk to parents, cast, crew, just fucking dipped.

and you know what? im going to the show tomorrow too. i fucking quit because i forsaw this shit was going to happen, but no way in hell am i just gonna watch while these kids that i love suffer. fucking survivors guilt is a thing, and i want to kill her for making me kill myself for this goddamn show

i wouldnt be surprised if these kids hate theatre now. theyre all a bunch of talented, starry eyed young impressionable kids who she is using for her own power trips and abuse, and shes probably ruining theatre for them forever. shes hurting the people i love and forcing me to get involved again when i had already gotten out. seriously, fuck this shit, im so mad. you hurt me thats one thing. you hurt my kids? fuck you, seriously go fuck yourself.

sorry for the long fucking post, this show is so fucking awful i havent even talked about a quarter of the shit going on, theres so goddamn much of it

ill be fine, i just had so much fucking work to do this weekend that i cant get done now because of this goddamn show. if she directs the show next year i will actually kill someone, i hope she dies slowly and painfully /srs

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 28

Marius puts me in a knee-length, sea-green dress with glittering wave patterns sewn on in opalescent sequins. And he gets the six-inch heels back out.

“Nothing but the best for my Tiger Shark,” he says, tying the same complicated pattern as last time.

Like last time, my makeup is simple but my hair complex. Finnick, who is weirdly wearing a very comfy-looking old-school-fisherman-style cable-knit, ties my seashell necklace around my neck.

“What’s yours?” I frown at him in the mirror.

He winks. “It’s a surprise.”

Then Dalia hurries in carrying a briefcase. “I got them!” she pants, grinning at Marius.

“Good. Everyone else?”

Dalia nods eagerly.

A smile splits Marius’s face. “Excellent. Let them see what happens when they try to take our victors.” He takes the briefcase from Dalia, sets it on the table, and pops it open.

“That’s a bold move,” Finnick says. But he leans forward and lets Marius settle the ten-year-old crown on his head. The black metal sits in stark contrast to his lighter hair. He stands a little straighter, and it’s one of those rare moments where he isn’t playing for anyone. Right now, Finnick Odair is just himself, smiling confidently at his reflection.

Marius turns to me next. I don’t know how they did it. They must have snagged them before we left for the reaping, because my crown sits on a desk in the upstairs study. But here it is.

Marius settles it amongst the braids, rearranging a little here and there, before giving me a nod and a real smile.

Behind him, Casca says, “There’s our Tiger Shark.”

Marius moves me to the mirror next to Finnick and even before I can fully see our reflections, I feel my smile growing.

In this moment, I’m not playing for anyone either.

The shining silver flashes in the light as I turn to look at Finnick. “Thank you.” I smile. A real, genuine smile, not to win him over or tease him or get something out of him, but just a smile.

He smiles back and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Dalia is sniffling behind us.

After a minute, we pull apart and look back at her.

“Dalia-” Finnick starts gently.

She lets out a heartbroken sob. “I always thought you would be such a beautiful couple if- if-”

Preps 1 through 3 are crying now too, and two-thirds of Finnick’s prep team.

It almost makes me want to tell her.

“If you both weren’t so stubborn!” Dalia sobs again, then hauls in an enormous, shaky breath. “I’m sorry!” She turns to Marius. “But it’s true and you know it!”

Marius takes a deep breath. Then, in the most human thing I’ve ever seen him do, he hugs her. It seems like a long hug too, but then he lets go very suddenly, and Dalia’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” She looks back at Finnick and me. “Oh.” She nods once, sharply, eyes still full of tears. “Well, I just want you to both know-” The little chime sounds, signaling it’s time for the tributes to line up. Dalia takes another huge breath, steeling herself. She looks at Marius, who shakes his head just the tiniest bit, then she says, “You have always made me smile.” She leaves hurriedly, both of our prep teams trailing behind her in various states of distress.

Marius nods, almost to himself.

Casca clears his throat and says, “You’d better get going. My tributes have never been late for Caesar Flickerman, and I’m not about to start now.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

In the line, word passes up and down of what everyone except Haymitch and Katniss did in their one-on-one with the Gamemakers. We were all true to our word and hilariously harmless. Unbeknownst to each other, Seeder and Cashmere both whistled, but Seeder is terrible and Cashmere can whistle to rival an orchestra.

This year, I try to really listen to the others’ interviews. I remember regretting not knowing Zalea could juggle eight oranges until after she was dead. Now I’m here with friends, and I promise myself I will not go into the arena having missed something like that about one of them.

What I didn’t notice, when we were all lined up backstage in the dimly-lit hallway, is that Finnick and I weren’t the only ones to show up wearing our crowns.

Cashmere is charming and beautiful in a bright copper crown as she sheds a few tears with Caesar, talking about how the people of the Capitol have come to be part of her family, and she will always love them.

Gloss is steadfast and gorgeous with a shining golden crown. He shares his sister’s sentiments, and says he wishes, he will always wish, he could have had more time with his Capitol family, and how it is simply too bad that we, the victors and the citizens of the Capitol, are all going through this horrible tragedy.

Enobaria has a rose gold crown, and she is vicious.

So is Brutus, in a crown so red bronze it looks like blood.

Then comes the first half of Nuts and Volts. Wiress, in a crown I would swear is made of opal, speaks in trailing half-sentences of the injustices of man-made laws.

Beetee follows her, his crown dark like Finnick’s, talking about how the Games could be changed. They’re only man-made, after all.

And then Caesar’s joyous voice calls, “And now, our favorite Tiger Shark, Annie Cresta!”

I pull in a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back to stand as tall as possible, then walk out onto the stage. Already I can tell the crowd is torn between adoring cheers and heartbroken wails. I smile at them, letting it be just tinged with sadness at how much I will miss them.

Caesar gestures me to my chair and perches on the front three inches of his. I follow his lead.

“Tell me, Annie, how is it to be back in the Capitol?”

“Well, Caesar, the cream cheese rolls were waiting in my room and let me tell you,” I pause and smile conspiratorially at him, “I ate them all. Wait, no. I ate all of them that Finnick didn’t. We may have resorted to violence over the cream cheese rolls.”

Caesar and the audience laugh, then Caesar sobers the tiniest bit, though he is still smiling. “But isn’t there a rule that you can’t fight other tributes before you get into the arena? I don’t want you to get in trouble, you know, you are my favorite Tiger Shark.”

Now I laugh. “Caesar, Finnick was my mentor and now he lives across the street from me. We have game night on Thursdays. I think he knows me well enough without us fighting before we get to the arena. Joke’s on him, I know all his secrets too.” I let that hang, hoping Caesar will play along.

As always, he delivers.

“Oh?” He leans forward, eyes alight. “I don’t suppose you’d care to expose one or two of them?”

“Well…” I look around at the crowd and their imploring faces. I grin. “All right!” I lean toward Caesar and stage whisper, “He cheats at marbles and cards.”

Caesar gasps and the crowd howls.

“And he says he can hold his breath for seven minutes, but his record is only six minutes and forty-three seconds.” I take a page from Gloss’s book and pick at one of my fingernails nonchalantly.

“Typical man!” Caesar snorts. “Always exaggerating our abilities, aren’t we!”

“At least you’re self-aware, Caesar!” I laugh.

“Oh, you know me! I’m nothing if not honest with all of you!” He sweeps an arm toward the crowd, who cheer appreciatively.

Caesar sobers substantially as he waits for the crowd to rein themselves in. I’m a little concerned by this, but I don’t let it show.

“Now, Annie,” Caesar says, “District Four has the curious distinction of being one of two districts where a mentor and mentee pair are this year’s tributes. What is it like, knowing that this time tomorrow you’ll be competing against Finnick?”

I laugh. I lean back in my chair and I really laugh. It’s all I can do, in the face of this ridiculous thing. The laugh doesn’t go all the way to my eyes, and I’m glad, because when I turn to Caesar, I see that I have unnerved him, just a bit, just enough to be perceptible.

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I direct my mirthless shark eyes out toward the audience. “You want us to go in and kill each other. That’s what these Hunger Games are and you all know it. You want me to kill Finnick? Gloss? Cashmere? Johanna? Will you still love me when I kill them?”

When.

The audience is recoiling, leaning back in their chairs like me. But theirs is horror, and mine is calm determination.

“Because I will. I will win.” I turn back to Caesar to see exactly what I hoped to see on his face—this interview has not gone the way he thought it would. I was supposed to be fun. Not tonight. Tonight I am vicious. “I will take them all away from you if this goes on.”

If.

Unprompted, I stand. Then I turn back to Caesar. “Remember, I’m a tiger shark, and you don’t mess with those.” I look directly into the camera, letting my gaze burn into it, then stride to my seat.

For all my confident fury, I can feel myself slipping. I muscle through Finnick’s interview as he recites a poem for his love. About a hundred people in the audience swoon, but it’s for me. It’s for me and I can’t react. The only thing keeping me upright in my chair is the restless tapping of his fingers on his knee. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me… To anyone but a few of us in Four, it looks like a nervous tic. To me, it is everything.

Johanna is furious in her golden crown and Alvan in his silver crown is disappointed and Katniss is in her wedding dress and then she’s on fire and then she’s a mockingjay, and Haymitch… Haymitch doesn’t use even the front three inches of his chair. He stands and goes on a tirade, biting and sarcastic and whip-smart and he must have practiced it and timed it over and over and over because he finishes by waving an arm at Katniss and practically screaming, “And now you send a pregnant newlywed into the arena?” He throws his arms up in frustration and the gong sounds and he walks to his seat next to Katniss, leaving Caesar in shocked silence, having not said a word for the whole interview, as the audience explodes.

On one of the big screens, I see Katniss grab Haymitch’s hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. With the other, she reaches for Chaff. This is all I need. I lace my fingers between Finnick’s, his hand already stretching toward me. On the other side, I take Beetee’s hand, and before the screens cut to black, I see us, all twenty-four of us, the Capitol’s crowns on our heads, hands linked in a final show of solidarity.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

After they run off us the stage, Finnick beelines for Katniss and Haymitch, dragging me along behind him. Several yards away, Johanna is trying to do the same thing, but we are blocked by technicians and cameramen and the elevator doors close on Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, and the woman who must be their Casca. Finnick’s head spins around to Johanna. He looks almost lost.

But Johanna shakes her head and shrugs, and Finnick and I end up in an elevator with Nuts and Volts.

Beetee is cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt. “It was worth a try,” he says to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” Finnick says.

The doors open on Level Three, and Nuts and Volts exit. The doors close again.

“Do you think Caesar’s tears were real?”

Finnick shakes his head. “He’ll miss us, but he knows good TV. And this is it.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Curled up on the couch watching the interview replay, I glance at Finnick. “You’ll still talk to me when we’re in there, right?”

He snorts. “Of course. We’re allies.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” He picks at the knot holding my shoe on my foot. “And I will. If I can’t, I’ll get one of our other allies to do it. I’m sure Johanna is full of stories.”

In spite of myself, I laugh. “She’s full of something.”

She’s raving at Caesar in her interview.

“So Johanna, Haymitch, Nuts and Volts… Who else?”

Finnick lets out a long breath. “Katniss. Ten. We’ll see how things play out.” Then he shoots me a grin. “You and me though. Always you and me.”

The broadcast stops when Haymitch reaches his chair, before Katniss can take anyone’s hand. But it’s still a statement. All of us angry, sad, disappointed. All of us in our crowns that were supposed to say we had won and that we were done playing the Hunger Games.

All of us going back to the arena tomorrow.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Mags wakes me up. For a second, I am very confused because this is not my room. It is, however, the couch in the living area, and Finnick is still asleep on the other couch.

Satisfied that I am awake, Mags moves to Finnick as I walk to the table and sit down across from Beck. Finnick yelps, then apologizes. After another minute, he joins us at the table. Marius and Dalia are there too, and we all eat in silence. When we have eaten, we hug all around, then Dalia and Finnick head up to the roof. Marius and I follow them five minutes later.

This time, I know what to expect when the woman in white approaches and asks for my arm. I try not to tense, but it still hurts when she jabs the needle in the muscle below my elbow.

“Tracker 4B is functioning.”

We land deep underground. I follow Marius into the dressing room, where there is a thin gray jumpsuit with some sort of wide belt and a pair of shoes that are thin everywhere except for the hard rubber soles. I have shoes like that at home. They’re designed for gripping wet surfaces.

“No armor,” Marius says. “No thermal. Should be some protection from the sun though. It’s going to be hot in there, if I had to guess.” He puts my hair in two long braids over my shoulders, then ties my seashell necklace on. He nods. “Keep an eye on Finnick. We all know he needs it.” Then he hugs me again. “Good luck in there, Tiger Shark.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Sixty seconds,” says the voice.

I step onto the platform and the glass tube slides over me.

“Did you tell Dalia?” I feel like I’m shouting, but I need to know.

Marius gives me one last nod, and the platform rises, pushing me up into the unknown.

****

****

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[elytrafemme]

OKAY SO it was where do we go now/wa hala2 la wayn and its this lebanese movie i got assigned 2 watch for cinematography class for the chapter on international cinema and it made me very happy hehe however. i have Thoughts. first off positive ones do you know how nice it was to hear just Genuine Lebanese Arabic in a movie it was SO nice. thats how i talk!! i use those turns of phrases!!! the old ladies remind me of my grandmas!!! the humour is also on Point like it feels very Classic Lebanese humour yk? and theres a great balance between humour and the more serious parts in a way that feels very true to the culture itself? if that makes sense?

less positive points uhhh why did they burst into song out of Nowhere like 3 times its not a musical it felt so. Why Is This Here. the last song where the women are baking is fun though. my biggest gripe with it though is. okay a bit of context so!!! the main plot in the movie is that its about a village thats half muslim half christian and they coexist peacefully and then they start hearing news of skirmishes between the two religions elsewhere and tensions start to rise and each side starts blaming the other for Every Little Thing that goes wrong and it just keeps escalating and escalating. and so the movie focuses on the women of the village devising various schemes to keep the men from fighting each other. its very much denouncing religion wars (which like. Yeah its a thing. my grandpa almost got shot once)

anyways SO all of that to say. the movie ends with the men waking up one morning and all the muslim men find that their wives have taken off their hijab and are praying to the virgin mary while all the christian women are veiled etc. and theyre basically saying well if you want to go fight them for being christian/muslim you'll have to fight me too and it makes them see the error of their ways etc. i. did nawt like this. i feel like theres better ways to get this message accross than basically saying "yeah religion is surface level and you can just violate everything you believe in just to make a point" like its not that they went i Look like them now its straight up they switched yk. like "this is who i am now". idk. left a bad taste in my mouth but maybe thats just me!!

the ending ending scene is the village going to bury a kid that was killed on his way back to the village and . like at the beginning of the movie we see the cemetery and its divided in2 tombstones with crosses and ones without but now the tombstones all look the same. and the title of the movie comes from the men carrying the coffin asking that yk. where do we go now. and i feel like that was a Much better way to get the point accross than the whole switching debacle sobs. anyways yeah!! those are my thoughts . this is so long i am SO sorry

YAY LONG REVIEW TIME!!! omg omg nice! i absolutely adore that, both the language part because that's so important but also the fact that it nails the culture down because? i feel like that's so hard to do with any culture, matching the humor and the specific phrases/customs with the generational trauma / more serious aspects of it. i really want to reconnect with more iraqi media for that reason because i really want to see how a film reflects that kind of thing

God movies where they just do random song and musical segments will never not be funny to me. this is a little different as to my understanding this is more expected in the genre, but watching bollywood movies with my friends was like. okay so there's a dramatic scene going on Oh wait now they're dancing on a shoreline in iceland. for the next eight minutes. this is fine and normal. like its so ABRUPTSDHKFJ

that's honestly a really really really cool concept for the film but i agree in that that's a really weird way to resolve it? i feel like in something like a film talking about religion its important that the religion component isn't entirely lost if that wasn't what the whole point was, does that make sense? like in this context it shouldn't take a person dneoucning their religion when the entire point of the show isn't about losing your faith just about reconciling with other people, it feels irrelevant and like the religion is being centered in the religious wars and not the violence. side note glad your grandpa didn't actually get shot that's a major yikes

man that other ending scene you described though... like imaginably this would be much more impactful if i had the visuals as well and could see this unfold in the film but like. your description even now feels really really emotionally impactful and. yeah. glad it has a good actual ending to it that kind of rounds it out i guess? seems like a good film overall but with some weird quirks and bad parts definitely

ty for the movie review! sorry if my response is scatterbrained im mulittasking rn but this was very cool to read :DDD

[erodasfishtacos]

Take a Hike

Prompt: When Harry and Y/N take the baby for a hike and end up being followed by fans.

word count: 2.2 k

contains: language, sexual content

Harry was furious. He just wanted to go on a hike  - like a normal family on a warm June day in a beautiful foreign country.

You were currently in Madrid - on Harry’s European leg of the tour.

While Harry had been doing press - you and Sasha had taken to the hotel pool where she could splash and enjoy the water all day.

It wasn’t without a eagle-eyed security guard who lurked in the background for shady characters and overzealous fans.

Fans - they wanted picture with you because you were Harry Styles’ wife. Not inherently famous on your own.

It was a bit odd, but you didn’t mind occasionally stopping to snap a pic with a excited fans. 

However, when you and Harry were out with the baby - it was completely off limits. Neither Harry nor you would stop for fans and paparazzi if you were toting around your little love.

She didn’t like the crowds and shouts that came along with swarms of people. She would slap her little hands over her ears, dig her face into her parent’s neck, and whimper.

Harry had always been protective of you when it came to these situations. One of the major downfalls of being so famous.

Harry had nearly gotten arrested when a clumsy pap had nearly push you over while you were eight months along. 

**

You and Harry had loaded up all the necessities for the five-mile hike on one of the trails right outside the city.

Sasha had a generous amount of sunscreen on and a little hat to protect her face. She refused to wear the sunglasses.

Harry had a pack for her - so you helped him load your two-year-old onto his back. He knew it was going to ache like a motherfucker but she was a bit too heavy for you. You opted for the backpack with everything in it.

The trail was semi-busy. Both of you donned sunglasses and hats to attempt to disguise yourselves a little bit.

Harry had even pulled on a hoodie - despite the heat - to cover his very recognizable tattoos.

You made it the two and a half miles in without any interruptions. 

Sasha falling asleep halfway through the trek with her cheek smushed against her father’s shoulder blade.

You snapped a few pictures in front of the waterfalls and beautiful rock structures. But you had decided not to wake your daughter from her nap.

You and Harry had taken an obligatory kissing selfie that would likely be your new Lock Screen. 

You both had made the mistake of taking off your sunglasses for the picture because you can hear muted whispers from other tourists.

“Is that fucking Harry Styles?”

“Yes. Oh my god! That’s his wife and baby!”

“Snap a video, Emilia!”

Harry’s noticeable tenses as he slides his sunglasses back onto his nose. Protective papa bear was in full-force around strangers who knew who he was.

The most important thing in Harry’s mind was his family’s safety.

“Let’s go, lovie,” Harry murmurs softly. His British accent surely giving him away if they heard it.

You nod anxiously - pointedly not making eye contact with the fans and small group that was gathering.

As you begin the journey back down the small mountain - you notice the group trailing behind you. Following you guys.

Jaw clenched, you want to scream at them to stop taking pictures of your sleeping baby. But you attempt to keep your cool.

It wasn’t more than ten teenage girls but it didn’t really matter who it was.

The girls are getting louder, more excited. When one of them squeals in joy of seeing her celebrity crush - who she had ticket for his concert tomorrow as did the rest of the group.

The noise startles the curly-haired baby on Harry’s back awake. She immediately starts crying - her hands coming to grip frantically in her fathers matching curls.

“Daddy,” Sasha sobs, grabbing at him as the girls keep snapping pictures and cooing.

Harry’s face is stone - attempting to keep his anger at bay. He was about to lose his shit and you couldn’t blame him.

He couldn’t always treat people with kindness.

“Down, want down,” she lisps, no longer wanting to be confined in her pack. It was also most likely time for a diaper change.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Please be good for mumma and I,” Harry rasps, reaching back to give her leg a comforting pat.

You look at your husband, “Please - let’s just try to make it out of here as soon as possible.”

Harry sighs, “I’m sorry, love.”

You brush his shoulder lightly, “it isn’t your fault people act this way. I just can’t stand when this happens around her.”

Harry’s slight smile from your reassurance turns into a glare when he realizes the nosy fans were trying to talk to his upset baby - who notably did not like strangers.

He’s quick to unstrap the toddler and shuffle her into your arms. You cradle her and turn you back away from the group. 

“Mumma, no cameras,” she whines, her words a little jumbled but you understood.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of it,” you coo assuringly. Her fingers finding their way into her mouth to soothe her.

Harry slides her carrier off his shoulders and tosses it next to your feet. He’s trailing over to the jumpy, overly-excited fans.

“Listen,” he states firmly, speaking loudly over their giggles, “y’need to stop following us and takin’ pictures. You’re scaring our baby.”

They chatter a bit, begging from picture and then they promise they’ll leave us alone.

“Absolutely not,” Harry states, trying to stay level headed with these immature teens who adored him.

With that, he’s headed back to you guys. The girls shouting unflattering things at him like “asshole” and “douchebag.”

He decided to ignore it and quickly allows you to strap the baby back into her carrier. His eyes study your face to make sure you’re alright and you give him a calm smile, squeezing at his bicep.

—- 

The girls trailed off after a few more minutes of following us. Harry hummed and sang a few nursery rhymes to Sasha to keep her calm but she was still fussy.

Back the hotel, Sasha was freshly bathed and laid down for a nap in the second bedroom. A baby monitor sat on the bathroom countertop as you two showered off the sweat and dirt.

Harry was still upset about the incident so you decided upon a good cuddle in a warm shower. His cheek was rested in the top of you head and his arms holding you to his wet chest.

“Just want to be normal - for one fuckin’ day,” he huffs with frustration.

“We had a totally normal, fun hike. It wasn’t ruined, I promise. It’s our reality so they’re is no use in being upset about it.”

Harry loved how level-headed you were to balance out his irrational, impulsive feelings and actions.

“You’re t’good to me, I love you.”

“At the end of the day, I knew what I was signing up for when you and I got married. I also knew when we had Sasha that paparazzi would still hound you.”

“Didn’t sign up to be harassed constantly though. I just feel so bad about it sometimes. It scares Sasha and it makes me feel like a bad father.”

You knew he was about to throw himself into a downward spiral if you didn’t distract him. 

“You know what else I signed up for when I married you?” I murmur into his neck, letting my lips ghost over his hammering pulse.

“Wha’s that?” He asks genuinely, a little slow on the uptake because of how deep in thought he was.

“That you would fuck me whenever I wanted,” you nearly purr, landing a not-so-gentle nip to the vein protruding on his neck.

“Is tha’ right? Put a ring on your finger and now I gotta give you my cock whenever you please?” He grunts at your teeth pinching his sensitive skin.

It’s amazing how it takes little to no effort to get this man in the mood.

“Mmm, if you want to be a good, dutiful husband,” you taunt - knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Am I not a good husband, pet? I fuck you any chance you let me. Give it to you anytime time you wan’ it. You know that.”

His hand is tugging your thigh up roughly, making your centers align with delicious pressure as he slips right between your folds.

“Harry,” Y/N groans, your head falling down to watch where he’s teasingly grinding his cock against your entrance and clit.

“Want me t’put it in, love?” He drawls like he has all the time in the world. The water pelting on his back making him pink.

“Ple-please,” you choke out, nipples harden against his chest even in the warmth of the shower. Sensitive with every brush against his smooth pecs. 

“You know what else you signed up for when y’married me?” He asks, his voice as deep and smooth as honey.

“What?” I reply, whining each time he teases at pushing in.

“That when you beg for my prick - you’ll be a good girl and take it.” 

With that, he’s thrusting up into you with full force. His sharp hipbones meeting the plushy, soft skin of yours.

“Ooh, oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, wrapping an arm around his neck as he presses brushing marks into your thigh where he’s holding you for leverage.

“C’mon, you can take it,” your husband goads, relentlessly hitting the spot that send licks of flames of your spine.

Your legs are feeling weak with how hard he’s pounding into you. He is so intuned with your body that he moves his hands to you backside.

He lifts you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his presses you back into the cold tile wall. 

He was so fucking good. How’d you manage to marry him? Unexplainable. 

“Am I good husband? Fuck you well enough?” He hisses against your open mouth as you pant heavily.

“So so good, H. Best husband ever,” you whimper, welcoming the friction from his pelvis against your swollen bud.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs happily, “I think you deserve to come”

You throw your head back as he speeds up, fingers reaching to flick at your nerves - just on the right side of painful.

It’s just what you needed to climax. He always somehow knew what you needed. His fingers are consistent as he lets you ride it out.

It is only a few more rough thrusts before he’s cursing and coming as well. His hand grasping harshly at your jaw to bring you into a searing kiss.

“Never gonna get sick of watchin’ you come on my cock,” he chuckles, carefully placing your feet back on the ground but keeping a tight hold of your hips.

You lean in to give him a quick but meaningful kiss before going about cleaning your body again after the mess you two created. 

It takes a little longer than necessarily due to you constantly having to bat his wandering hands away from your body.

—-

It dark out now, the city of Madrid illuminated through the large windows of the high-rise hotel.

Sasha was exhausted after the hike and full day at the pool - despite napping twice. She was always out like a light around eight-thirty

You were tightly tucked into Harry’s side, head resting on his shoulder. Your eyes becoming bleary from drowsiness. 

Your toddler was sprawled out on Harry’s chest, fast asleep with one of your husband’s large hands resting on her back. 

Harry was scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he chuckle softly, handing you his mobile to see what was on the screen.

It was a video-recording of an Instagram Live. 

The video forwarded by Jeff. The volume low to not disturb your daughter.

It was a teenager girl who looks unpleasantly familiar.

“Um - yeah. So we saw him and we were hiking freaking out. ‘Cause like we’re going to his concert tomorrow.”

Then girls eyes flick to the commenters to answer questions.

“He had his baby. His wife was there too.”

“No, so he was so unfriendly! He flipped out because we wanted an autograph!”

The girl was mimicking Harry’s thick accent, “when we asked for a picture - he legit said ‘absolutely not.’”

I shake my head at the girl’s antics, “how dare you not take a photo. You’re such a dick.” You tease.

Harry smirks, taking the phone back and tossing it on the cushion. His hand rubbing gentle circles on his sleepy baby.

“None of tha’ matters,” Harry says softly, “I don’t care what anybody but you thinks ‘bout me. At the end of the day, as long as I have you and the bab - I’ll be happy.”

[lubdubsworld]

Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC 

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content. 

Rating : 21+ 

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so ) 

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes] 

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond. 

Everyday began much the same. 

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work. 

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point. 

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes. 

But not today. 

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little. 

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?” 

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way. 

It had been eight years ago.

 A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg. 

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back. 

But the nerve damage stayed. 

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches. 

But it wasn’t something I could hide. 

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed. 

The girl who couldn’t walk. 

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place. 

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.” 

I smiled a little. 

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said . 

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly. 

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole. 

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran  marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered. 

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy. 

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large  portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed. 

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be. 

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company. 

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son. 

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing. 

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me. 

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad. 

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it. 

It was a brutal sort of realization. 

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change. 

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate. 

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed. 

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.  

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking. 

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.                                                              

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me? 

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone  and of course, how little he cared about me. 

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid. 

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him. 

There was a reason. There had to be. 

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to 

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days. 

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me. 

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant. 

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

 Finally. Now he can’t leave you. 

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in. 

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face. 

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here? 

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped. 

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me. 

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms. 

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the 

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?” 

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare. 

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively. 

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated. 

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned. 

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking. 

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists. 

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would. 

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes .  I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked. 

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away. 

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened. 

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt. 

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “ 

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly. 

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway. 

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

 Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it? 

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were  a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to 

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it. 

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day. 

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked. 

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch. 

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared , 

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously. 

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left. 

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either. 

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate. 

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place. 

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me. 

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting. 

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name. 

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. 

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something. 

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed. 

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?” 

He exhaled sharply. 

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I’d been standing for too long. 

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled. 

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint. 

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened. 

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head. 

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore. 

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly. 

 Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

 I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out. 

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost. 

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath. 

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a  thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it. 

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face. 

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.” 

Silence. 

“Have you told your parents?” 

I exhaled sharply.

“No.” 

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him. 

“No.” I said softly. 

He sighed. 

“Alright. Should  I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?” 

I laughed. 

“How very practical of you..” i said. 

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

 This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly. 

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted. 

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us? 

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently. 

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?” 

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt. 

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.” 

I turned away. 

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling. 

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down. 

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest. 

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing. 

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling. 

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought. 

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control. 

[transphilza]

💕❤️💕❤️

i’ve gotten into the habit of doing these check in posts with everything that’s going on so here i am. back again. mourning log day 3 except this one is just aimless rambling

i feel a bit better. i didn’t feel better earlier today though, i woke up and it only took about fifteen or twenty minutes of watching wil’s stream til i started crying a lot… admittedly that’s better than day 2 where i woke up and immediately had an anxiety attack but yeah. felt sort of cold and numb all day like i was walking around in a fugue, everything felt fake and distant and strange. hearing phil and wilbur’s voices (like especially phils for whatever reason) today felt quite nice but the only thing that made me feel real was when i was crying about techno

i cried while answering some asks, which for transparency’s sake has happened several times,,, when i say i understand you all and i feel your pain i Really mean it. it’s been cathartic to read your feelings and cry with you all

but i feel a bit better now. of all fucking things listening to hermitgang actually improved my mood quite a lot and thats so hysterically funny to me that i can’t even find it in myself to be mad about it. i played some toontown and then called my girlfriend and i rewatched philza’s vr world tour stream with her which was really comforting. she and him helped me feel real again,, we watched sbi terraria before that which was really really nice. hearing his voice still makes me feel so. aghhhhhh. i really really miss him

still feels like i’ve been carved out and left hollow a bit but talking to people of course helps. i’ve been avoiding my family for the past few days cause i couldn’t stop crying for long enough to compose myself but today i was able to talk to them for a little bit and it was better even though i was still hurting and it still felt strange to be around people whose worlds were still turning even though mine has stopped

on a random tangent thanks for eight fucking thousand notes on the techno art <3 that’s the most notes i’ve ever gotten on anything ever (thx techno m8) and also thanks for FINALLY replacing that clip of wilbur as my most noted post. jesus christ

i think i’m gonna keep the new pinned post. i wasn’t sure at first, but now that it’s there i really want to keep it. having that reminder on my blog all the time feels right…. although reading “spaceship” still genuinely makes me feel like someone fucking stabbed me in the chest every time i read it it hurts so bad

i miss him a lot…. that’s where i’m at now. i just miss him and i want him back and it destroys me every time i remember he’s not coming back

but it’s better, or as better as it can be. it’s better than uncontrollable nonstop sobbing for hours at a time at least, which is where i started. so that’s probably worth something, even if it just ends up as numbness

theres still some clips scheduled for tmrw and day after. tomorrow is gonna be really annoying cause it’s july 4th and i am not good with firework noises lmfao…. hopefully my ear plugs block the worst of it out. any other sound sensitive americans i am wishing you some peace as well

much love to you all. if sending me asks or messages helps you in any way i’m beyond happy to answer them, and thank you for all your stories and kindness once again

❤️ cia

[kim-chann]

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

   ❝   Stranger  ❞   –   Chef’s Special

           - - - | Satoru Gojo

             - - - | TW: Blood, brief mention of death

      Synopsis ;; Satoru Gojo killed you. He regrets it. 

                                   ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ $ 0.00

༺ Chef’s Note: Hi. It’s been like five months hahaha.

She was a stranger to his eyes. 

The word “stranger,” was used to describe people whom you don’t know. It’s a term you use when you walk past a stranger at the park. You don’t know their name, how many siblings they have, their shoe size, their favorite color-- anything specific that leaves your mind blank to who they are. They have no emotional value to you, despite the small eye contact and the curve of one's lips in a silent way to greet one another. Then walk past them to never see them in your life again. 

Yet, in his eyes, staring at the person that he’s known since his youth, felt like he was staring at a stranger. 

A grip on his chest felt like weight building up and over his body, making it difficult to let in air and out. It felt like a sin to even stand. 

He was mad at himself. 

He was mad at himself that he can’t feel anything towards her but guilt.

No relief, no happiness, not even letting the smallest inside jokes slip from their mouths. 

All the memories in his head of her felt foggy. It was as if someone breathed through their mouth on a glass to fog up. He was just waiting for the fog to disappear so the emotions he wanted to feel would shine through to tell her the truth, straight from the bottom of his heart. 

“You’re late, Satoru,” She finally spoke. “By eight minutes.”

“The usual,” He makes no move to bicker like they’ve always done. 

“Well, are you just going to stand there? It seems like you want to say something.”

Satoru hesitated, “Look, (Y/n), I’m sorry--”

“Save it.” She interrupts. “I don’t want to spend my time here listening to you pour your heart out to me while I should be doing that to you.”

“No, you don’t understand--”

“I do.”

“(Y/n), you don’t,” Satoru grits his teeth, “You don’t, you really don’t.”

“Then make me understand…!” (Y/n) whines through a desperate sigh from her lips. She was beginning to lose her patience with him. 

It didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. Her clenched jaw, her fingers picked one another, her eyes fierce, and her cheeks flared. It still surprised him how he still notices the littlest things about her even when his feelings were dazed. 

His mouth opened, closed, then he licked his lips. Words were difficult to form from the look she gave him. With the weight against his chest, it made his eyes blurry from the overwhelming pause from his emotions.

“I didn’t mean it,” A mutter broke the tension.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

She let out a laugh. One would mistaken it for a genuine humour-like laugh, but in the case of the current scenario, it would mirror the opposite. “You come to me to talk and you can’t even do it,” The humorless expression never left her pale face, “It’s almost sad to think about, for someone who thinks of me as a stranger.”

“What?”

“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid. I notice how you act around me, Satoru.” 

Satoru felt his nerves freeze. 

“I’m not oblivious enough to notice the way that you brush me off everytime we pass each other. You don’t smile the same way as you did, you don’t even look at me in the eye when we talk, you ignore me in front of everyone--”

“I didn’t mean too--”

“You don’t even thank me when I do you a favor that you asked for, you don’t even take up my offer for lunch anymore, you’re beginning to ditch me at the last second, you’re starting to look at me as if we never knew each other!”

“I’m sorry! I--”

“No! You don’t get a say in this!” Her voice screamed pain. He was used to the sounds of screams nor did it affect him to an extent, yet the tone of her voice made him feel like his neck was pressed against a guillotine. The pressure he felt was suffocating, it was getting harder and harder to breathe each passing second. 

Tears pooled down his blue eyes, eyebrows furrowed, teeth grit as he broke down. The feeling of struggling to breathe was already bad enough. He was a tall man, one who got jokes from people, “how’s the weather up there?,” on which he would always respond with, “Good, how’s the weather down there?” Yet the sudden swarm of emotions made the tall man fall down on his knees and beg. Being a tall man only meant others struggled to reach him physically or emotionally. The buck of his knees finally made him short, tiny, a scum of the earth. Like an ant walking among humans. 

The fog on the glass finally cleared. 

The value of his memories anguished in powerful emotions struck him all at once as if he was a punching bag. The twelve years of his cherished memories all came into his brain. From the widest smiles that his cheeks can make with her, the anger in his chest that bubbled like water at its boiling point from stupid arguments they made, the smell of fresh wet grass as it painted their skin, the happiest memories now torn down from the tension between the two companions. The stranger in front of him that he once loved made him feel conflicted. His vision was blurry from the tears that gushed from his eyes and the song that he sang of sorrow. He weaved and struggled to form coherent sentences but spit out, “I’m sorry”s and “I didn’t mean it.”

“Did I do something wrong?” (Y/n) managed to ask between Satoru’s sobs. “Did I do something wrong to deserve this?”

“No-- nothing!”

“Then why did you kill me?”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“I tried my best to help you and even sacrificed everything to help you, what did I do wrong?” 

Every word she spoke, the more glass that shattered his already-so broken heart. Tearing a scar and opening it back up the wound that took years to grow made him feel that the only retribution was his death. His body felt weak against the pavement, cheeks defiled with the saltiness of regret and hands besmirched, tinged, similar to the healthiest rose in the garden.

“You did nothing wrong! I-I don’t know why I did it!” He screamed. 

Satoru’s cries echoed throughout the derelict edifice. There were things quieter than a desert with no wind, pressing pressure against your ears from the sudden ringing that screamed. Your brain trying to process anything within your range, a desperate feeling of wanting to hear something, anything, to give itself reassurance of life. 

Yet, the silence before him was mute, immobile and desolate to the point where even the flutter of one's eyelid was enough to make Satoru happy. His hands matched the tinge of roses as for the pavement on the ground below him. Her body laid, immobile, eyes peeking hidden by still eyelids that didn’t dare blink. Satoru pulled her closer to him, head between his arms, cradling her as if she was a child. 

It was quiet, too quiet. 

Not even the scream that shook the walls was enough to make (Y/n) hear him.

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One

----

Part Two

25.12.19

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?

I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.

"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"

I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.

"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."

"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."

I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.

"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."

"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."

I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.

"Merry Christmas, Chris."

With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.

-

When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.

"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"

"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."

"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."

"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."

I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.

"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."

There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.

"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"

Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.

"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."

Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."

"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.

"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."

"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."

We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.

-

"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"

"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."

They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.

"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"

"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"

"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."

There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.

I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.

However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.

It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.

"Wow! A dinosaur!"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."

Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.

"Does he need batteries?"

"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."

He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.

"There's a button on his back, press it."

Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.

"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.

Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.

"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"

"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"

I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.

"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."

The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, please."

"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."

Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.

"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."

He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.

"You know what? I might just do that."

Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.

"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"

"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."

"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."

I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.

"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."

Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.

-

The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.

An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.

"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"

His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."

"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."

"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."

"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."

I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.

"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"

"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."

"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"

Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.

-

The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.

Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.

Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.

"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.

Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.

"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."

"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."

My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.

"He should come all the time."

I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.

"But what about Dodger?"

Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.

"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.

"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"

So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.

Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.

"You okay?"

The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.

"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.

"You looked pretty downhearted in there."

"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."

I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.

"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."

"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."

"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."

Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.

-

After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.

The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.

It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.

However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.

"Releasing some tension."

As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.

"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."

Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.

"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.

"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."

Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.

"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.

"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."

Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.

Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.

My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.

"Whitney, have you seen it?"

Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."

Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.

"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."

"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"

"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."

I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.

"That's the life of a mom."

"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."

"Scott."

Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.

"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."

"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"

He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.

"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."

"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."

"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."

"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."

I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.

"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."

"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."

"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."

They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.

-

I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.

"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"

"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."

I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.

"Well, it has been a busy day."

Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.

"It's so freakin' cold tonight."

I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."

"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."

I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.

"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."

The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.

"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."

"What?"

I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.

"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."

For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.

"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"

A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."

I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Goodnight, Whitney."

I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I did try. I really, really did.

But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.

We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.

"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."

"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."

"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."

"I was really dreading it."

My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.

"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."

"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."

"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."

He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.

The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.

It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.

"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?"

The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.

"Doesn't matter."

Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.

He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.

Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.

"You okay?"

I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.

"I've never been better."

Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.

I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.

"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."

I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.

"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."

"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."

He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.

"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."

He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.

"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."

He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.

I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.

"Wait!"

My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.

"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."

"What?"

Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.

"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.

"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"

I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."

Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.

"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."

He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.

They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.

He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.

"Beautiful."

He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.

I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.

"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."

A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.

"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.

Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.

It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.

"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.

I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.

He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.

Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.

I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.

"Take these off."

My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."

Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.

"As you wish."

He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).

Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.

"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"

His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.

"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"

"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"

Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.

"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"

He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.

"You good?"

"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."

"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.

That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.

He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.

I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.

"Good girl..."

Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.

My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.

He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.

It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.

Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.

We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.

"I'll be right back."

I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.

"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.

They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.

"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.

There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.

So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.

-

Part Three

[harry-writings]

Hurt You Just Before You Go

- The one where Y/n picks a date for her divorce with Harry

Part 1

Masterlist

-

“You know what we should do?” 

It was the third night of their honeymoon and they had just got done with a particularly passionate round of love making — leaving them bare and breathless upon the heart-shaped bed, illuminating in the moon’s wake, burning in their desire. 

“Hmm... what, baby?” Harry hummed against the crook of Y/n’s neck — which still smelled like cherry vanilla despite his lips making a home out of it not just thirty minutes prior — pulling her body closer to his because he longed for her even when she was as close as could be.

“When your contract is over and it’s just you and me… we should go somewhere — somewhere far away from everything we’ve ever known, somewhere nobody else knows.”

Just the sound of it made Harry’s heart wither and clench, his bones shiver, his muscles ache with temptation because he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more than Y/n to consume his life whole — leave behind the life he’d made for himself because none of it meant half as much as she did. 

“We could be those people who just up and leave; raise a family, adopt a kitten or two, drink wine on a hammock while the kids are asleep.”

And he was convinced Y/n shared all the same visions he had — all the same hopes and all the same dreams. Because when he pictured his life after his fame faded to nothing but a distant memory, all he saw was her — there was nothing else or nobody else, just her. 

But to know he couldn’t have that for another five years made his heart heavy in his chest. 

“Don’t tempt me. Please, don’t tempt me.” He begged with his hungry lips — sprawling kisses along her body, anywhere they could touch. “Would do it right this second if I could. Would give everything up to just have you.” 

Y/n would kill for it, would sacrifice anything and everything to spend the rest of her life exactly how she was spending it then — the world unturning as she lay helplessly in her husband’s arms. 

But it couldn’t always stop for them no matter how badly they wanted it to. Life had to move on, they just hoped they could keep up with it.

“But you’ve got a whole lot of love from a whole lot of people. The world would crumble without you, Harry Styles.” 

“Let it.” He asserted without hesitation, his lips against her inner thigh, spreading her open, all for him. “Mine would crumble without you.”

-

“Our anniversary?” 

Y/n can hardly believe the sight in front of her. 

She had seen Harry at all his darkest and most vulnerable moments — seen him through all his breakdowns, all his blackouts, all his downfalls — but nothing compares to the broken mess of a man standing at her front door trying desperately to hold himself together. 

He’s falling apart at the seams, broken on his feet — his eyes bloodshot and swollen, hair abused, his skin pale and sunken and tearstained — and Y/n has this bloodcurdling feeling swelling in her veins that Harry has completely lost touch with himself.

“You decided to get divorced on our wedding anniversary?”

The words get caught in his throat and knot with each breath he takes, his stomach churning on its own bile because every single part of him is so incurably empty. 

Never, in a million years, would he have expected his life to take this sharp of a turn and leave him hanging on the edge without Y/n’s hand to hold. How he’s been breathing and getting through each day is completely beyond himself because he would have never guessed he’d make it that far without her. 

But this… this will end him. 

Because their wedding anniversary isn’t just another day to make it through, or another plan to make in his already booked-up schedule... it’s the one day Harry looks forward to within his mess of a life — the one day Harry can be unconditionally and unapologetically himself, the one day he feels genuine happiness and fulfillment — because he spends every millisecond of it with Y/n, with nobody’s eyes on them, except for each other’s.

And to lose that would make every other day of his life an absolute living nightmare. 

“Baby, please tell me this is some sick joke. You can’t be doing this to me.”

Y/n, now, almost wishes it was, because seeing Harry like this is horrendously unbearable. He is drowning, sinking, falling into the depths of his own hell and she knows she’s the only one that can save him from himself. 

But she can’t. No matter how much her hands are shaking and aching to reach out for him, she knows he’s going to find a way to let go again, and she just can’t risk herself for him anymore.

“It’s going to be easier this way.” Y/n whispers beneath the trembling of her frowned lips, because even though she was once so convinced that this was the only way to save themselves from this loss, she’s now having a hard time believing herself. 

How is any of this going to be easy? 

“If we got divorced any other day, it would —” she chokes out a noise that Harry can only describe to be complete and utter agony, “Harry, it would ruin us. That’s two days, forty-eight full hours of thinking about everything we could have been and everything we’ve lost, and that’s not counting all the time we’ll spend in between thinking about how much we’re going to dread the next date before it even comes.

“We can’t handle that, Harry. Have you seen us? From the second we started dating, the more time we spent with one another — the more time we even thought of one another — made every second apart feel like the end of the world. Imagine feeling that way when we can’t even have each other… it’ll kill us both.”

And despite how badly he wants her to be wrong, deep down, he knows she’s right. 

What they have — the feelings they share and the love that’s rooted between them — is unnatural. It runs so deep that it seems to defy all laws of time and space. They become convinced that the world revolves only around each other — that nothing else has a purpose, or a belonging, in their lives. 

One look is all it takes for time to falter, for the universe to pause, only for them.

But as years passed by and times started changing, they also became convinced that every problem in their relationship wasn’t a matter of lost feelings or unfaithful love, it was a matter of loving each other too much. So much, that they couldn’t survive on their own. 

It was too dangerous and too toxic, but in the most innocent of ways.

“It’ll only kill us if we don’t want it.” Harry croaks out, his tired eyes helpless and vulnerable as they stare into hers, which are just as sad and void as his. “And it is so clear to the both of us that we don’t want this. We can have each other again if you just — please, just let me fight for you.”

He takes a step closer to her, tentatively, because he wouldn’t know how to handle himself if she were to walk away from him again. 

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t. The second we walk out of that courtroom we — I’ll never be able to see you again, or talk to you again, or touch you. The only thing I’ll have left of you is Topher and I swear to god, every time I look at him it’s going to take everything in me not to run to you, wherever you end up, and I can’t live like that. I can’t fathom the idea of being so fucking far away from you and not having a single clue where you are or what you’re doing — not knowing if you’re safe, if you’re crying, if you need a hand to hold, if you... if you need me… if you hate me.”

It didn’t hit him until now — the possibility of Y/n curing his name and wishing nothing but death upon him, feeling like she’s wasted so much of her life on someone she wished she had ever even met. And that tears him apart from the inside out, his insides twisting and throat pulsing just at the thought of it.

And how could he do anything when all he wants is her?

“All of this started because I couldn’t be your first, and all of this ended because I chose to put you last even though that’s the farthest place you’ll ever be to me. And the thought of you —”

He chokes on his words, his hand reaching up towards his chest to rest upon his hollowed heart, heaving back sobs that are on the verge of crashing over him. And Y/n can’t bear to watch it. 

“The thought of not having you, Y/n. I can’t stomach it. It’s just not possible. I can’t.”

He’s not holding anything back, now. He’s falling apart and drowning in the pit of sadness he has yet to escape — his body so desperate for relief it can hardly keep itself up anymore. And the only thing that keeps him from collapsing on the concrete is Y/n’s shaking hand upon his shoulder. 

He lets out yet another cry, hunched over, his own hand reaching up to grab ahold of hers. He’d know the feeling of her hand no matter what the circumstances — when she’d surprise him on tour and he’d know it was her hand that touched on his neck before he even heard her voice, or when they were being swarmed by fans and he knew when it was Y/n grabbing his arm and not some random stranger trying to get the best of him.

And how could he find any other pair that could ever come close to holding himself together the way hers does?

Y/n pulls him into her as he weeps his sorrows against her shoulder, hoping that just the hold of her arms are enough to keep him steady… at least for a little while. 

But when he lifts his head from her soaked t-shirt to look into her eyes with pure desperation and despair, she knows that it’s not.

“Please baby, let me fix this. Let me be everything you need me to be.. I can do it, all for you. Just, please, let me make it right.”

His breath falters when his eyes make their way to her lips — god, what he’d do to those lips — and his mouth waters at the urge to pull her in and give her everything he has to offer. 

She’s right there, so close he can feel her breath on his, and all he has to do is just pull her in until her lips fall right into his —

and they do. 

They’re exactly how he remembers them to be — soft and warm, light and sweet — and he whimpers into her mouth, his hands cradling her cheeks as their tongues dance in harmony. 

Y/n pulls him backwards and though he is so swooned and out of his damn mind in ecstasy, he follows her movements like a lost puppy because god forbid he pulls himself away from her ever again. He doesn’t even open his eyes because if this is a dream, it’s one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

And what was once so delicate and raw became hot and heavy — their mouths all over each other’s, hands wandering underneath clothes, moans of temptation dripping from their tongues as they make their way to her bedroom.

And they should stop. God, every bit of them should stop but they can’t because how they have shamelessly missed this, and how badly do they want it back. 

So they don’t.

-

2 hours later. 

“Where were you thinking?”

Y/n was half asleep as she nested herself against Harry’s naked body — her legs trembling from her previous finish, her red, swollen lips parted around tired breaths, eyes shut around a daydream. She looked beautiful — so beautiful, Harry almost didn’t have the heart to keep her awake any longer. 

But he couldn’t help himself… he needed to know before the night took her away from him, because when she fell to her slumber and dreamt of their future together — swinging on a hammock with a bottle of wine, the world fading until all that was left was themselves, surrounded by kids and kittens — he wanted to dream it with her, too. 

“Hm?”

Her eyes were still closed, body unmoving, refusing to wake from her slumbered state but also refusing to miss a single word Harry had to say. 

“Earlier you said that when my contract is over, we can go somewhere only we know.” 

She hummed again, this time, with a warm smile painted on her lips. 

It was her favorite thought — really, her one and only thought — and it was the only dream of hers that she ever really, truly believed in. Everything else, to her, was uncertain, but her life Harry was unquestionable and undeniable. They were meant solely for each other. 

“Where are we, when you think that?” 

She craned her neck against his chest so her lips could peck at his skin, softly, and only once before she rested her head right back to where it laid before.

“Alaska.” 

“Alaska?” 

Harry pulled slightly away from Y/n with furrowed eyebrows and confused eyes, looking down at her as if to assure himself that he heard her correctly.

He was in disbelief. Not because it was unlike her to think of such peculiar things, but because it really was so far away from everything they had ever known, and one of the only places Harry has yet to see.

How she even thought of it, he’d never understand. But he could never question her dreams or make her feel as though he didn’t want them the same way she did. He only wanted what she wanted.

And as he looked down at her, with her eyes still closed and face still soft, her lips turning upwards, he knew how much it meant to her. 

“We don’t have to.” Y/n slurred sheepishly. “Just a thought.”

“No, baby. No, of course I want it, it’s just —” he tucked her in closer to his chest again, afraid he just ruined everything she had been looking forward to. “I’d freeze my balls off, love. We wouldn’t be able to make any babies.” 

She giggled, shaking her head softly. 

“It’s not cold all the time, y’know. And I don’t know… I just fell in love with the idea of us living without any neighbors or any distractions. We could be by the water, have a view of the mountains, have enough land for our kids to wander off and play. And even if it’s not what we imagined it to be… we don’t need anything outside of us. It’ll still be the happiest we’ve ever been because it’ll be you and me. Just you and me.” 

And as she spoke the thoughts that have been floating in her pretty little head, Harry closed his eyes and saw it, too — clear as day, as if his mind had met halfway with hers and went to a universe that was only made for them.

It was then, he knew, that that’s where they belonged. 

-

It shouldn’t feel this way — this ghostly and empty, like being trapped in a room haunted by everything that once was. 

Y/n shouldn’t be looking at Harry beside her, naked, with a clench of regret straining in her heart, but that’s the only thing she feels.

Why? She curses herself. Why does he have to make me so weak? Why does he keep doing this to me?

She shouldn’t be loving him like this — like she’d cut herself open just to please him, like she’d ruin herself just to make him feel better — but she is, just as hard and selflessly as before. And the sad part is… she’s never stopped loving him this way, she wouldn’t even know how to. 

“You should go home, Harry.” Y/n speaks through the words she feels so heartbroken to say, because she shouldn’t even be saying them at all. “I don’t want to keep you from your day.”

And Harry feels it all again. 

The twist in his stomach, the pulsing of his throat, the hallowing of his heart — all surfacing once again even though he thought it was safe to bury away. 

“You’re kicking me out?” 

He whispers it with a crack in his voice and Y/n wants to take back everything she’s done — letting him beg for her love back, letting him cry on her, letting him love on her. Because now look at where they’ve ended up — naked and broken on a bed that didn’t belong to them, wishing reality could let them stay, hoping this wasn’t goodbye. 

But it is. It is goodbye and the last time they could ever be this close again. 

“Yeah, Harry. I’m kicking you out.” 

She doesn’t want to sound so heartless and cruel but she’s been left with no other choice, she has to walk away from this on her own without finding her way back to him. And she’s learned by now that she’s too damn weak when it comes to his pain — she’d give into him if she were to break.

“This wasn’t my way of coming back to you.”

But, oh, how Harry thought it was. 

Sex was never just sex to Y/n — it wasn’t just sex to either of them — especially when it happened with each other. Sure, it got messy, and sloppy, and rough on most nights, but neither of them would have enjoyed it nearly as much if they weren’t so in love.

So why would this time be any different? Why is it that now, so suddenly, it was her way of seeking revenge?

A fresh new wave of tears flood to his eyes, scrunching his face because he refuses to do this again — let her witness another cry, have her bring him to his knees, allow her to watch him break his own bones. The more he does it, the more power he gives her to treat him like this — like a one-night stand unworthy of her days, like a fuck she can only give when it’s convenient for her. 

These past two hours have been a whirlwind of emotions for him, yet somehow, they were all too hopeful — thoughts of spending the night together, making love past dawn, playing hide and seek beneath the covers. 

And here she is, throwing words around that crush all the rest of his hopes and dreams.

He hits his hand against the mattress, betrayal and deceit coursing so ruthlessly through his veins he feels his skin burn with each beat of his heart — leaving him damned in their nakedness.

“So, what?! You decided to screw me just to even the score?! Get me all over you just to push me away?!” 

Y/n flinches from where she lays, her eyes still empty and sunken as she watches Harry hurl himself from her bed and as far away from her as possible. He had hardly ever raised his voice at her, even when she was most deserving of it, and it leaves her gutted and bruised in her wake.

“It’s not like that.” She whispers, though she knows it doesn’t really matter if she says it at all — he’s never going to let this go. “You were so hurt and I couldn’t —” she flutters her eyes shut, “I can’t control myself around you.”

He shakes his head and spits out a laugh so dark it sends a shiver down her spine, his eyes looking anywhere but at her, stepping into the leg of his pants like he couldn’t have been covered fast enough. 

He’s angry, so angry and so hurt his hands and legs are numb and the backs of his eyes are stained red, and he’s at a loss of what to do. He’s done everything to deserve feeling this way yet something inside of him is bursting at the seams, desperate to extinguish it. 

“So you decide to hurt me more?” 

His chest aches and shivers, eyes shut and weep, now wondering if this dream is now a nightmare he’s going to be stuck in for the rest of his life. 

And Y/n’s eyes fall to his empty side of the bed, wondering how she’s going to sleep here at night — wondering how she’s going to possibly live through this — after she had just done what she did. 

“It wasn’t right, I know that, but I swear it —”

“No, it wasn’t right!” Harry fights back, though it’ll only risk losing her more. “I’m not perfect in this marriage but never once have I used you just to give you a taste of your own medicine! I don’t get you all weak and vulnerable just to spit it in your face later!” 

He’s right, he hasn’t, but what an unfair statement to throw at the mess he’s already made of her.

He’s done worse — so much worse — such unspeakable and disloyal things that have left her alone to rot, decompose right in his own two hands until she perished in his ruin, and never once had he gone back on his mistakes. He just left her there, hopeless and afraid.

And she wants to scream it at him — wants to give it all right back to him, make him feel so small for what he’s done, break him down over, and over, and over again just to make him see that her moment of weakness was nothing compared to his moments of truth. 

But she’s so much better than that. 

“You think you don’t use me?” She breathes out in disbelief, sitting up upon the mattress now, holding the blanket up to her bare chest. “You use me every day. You’ve been using me as an option for the past year because you can’t handle doing your shit on your own!”

He’s still now, letting her words soak and seep into him as she picks and pries at his biggest weaknesses. And he is left defenseless. 

“You don’t want this divorce because the second we sign our names on that contract, you’ll be alone just like you were before we met! And you’re going to be terrified looking for somebody else to replace this because nobody has been able to convince you that they love you for you and not for your money, except for me.”

God, why does she have to know him so well? Because even though that wasn’t even close to being the reason as to why Harry refused to pick a date, it was one of his greatest fears.

“So you just keep finding your way back to me because I’m the only love you’ve ever known, and if you lose it, you’re not going to know where to find it again.”

He can’t find it again and he won’t find it again, he knows it’s true. Everything in his life had led him to her, which is exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

His world begins and ends with her, rises and falls next to her and there isn’t anybody else that could offer him that much. He doesn’t have to go looking to know that. 

“I can only find it in you, you know that.” Harry whimpers out, fingers shaking as he places his hand on the corner of the bed, still reaching for her even in their worst moments. “But you’ve proven to me time and time again that you can throw it all away so easily, like it's meant nothing to you.”

His fingers fist at the duvet, praying for something to save him now. 

“So open to dating other guys and make me watch you as you do it, so ready to fuck me just to kick me out at my lowest. And I am so low, Y/n, the lowest I have ever been, but you’ve stooped even lower.” 

And he really can’t believe he’s doing this — walking away when he just gave her all the love he could give, saying goodbye when they were just saying how much they loved and missed each other not just two hours ago — but this is what she wants. This is the version of himself she’s created. 

And he should really curse her for it, scream and cry and kick and yell, dig her six feet under for messing with him like this. But he’s too betrayed and in too much pain to do anything but run away and find a place for himself to be torn limb from limb until he’s a pile of waste that can no longer be found.

He lets one last sob rip out of him before he looks at her one last time, knowing this is it.

“I’ll see you in fifteen days.”

-

They should be by the ocean, watching the sunrise from their hotel balcony with a morning drink strong enough to take them both under while they cheers to the three years they’ve lived so happily together as husband and wife. 

Topher should be asleep in his grandparents’ bed, getting lost in lullabies, dreaming of his parents’ return. And they should be dancing after breakfast in bed, laughing at the memories that haven’t let them go, singing the songs he wrote just for her.

They shouldn’t be here — sitting in a courtroom drowning in tears they are so worthless at holding back, listening to strangers discuss all the logistics and terms of a broken marriage they know nothing about. 

How they have ended up somewhere so dark and deadly is beyond them. This is so unlike them — to willingly sign their names to be free of one another, to allow themselves to move onto other people who weren’t meant for them, to leave behind the life they’ve made for themselves — but this isn’t a matter of whether they want to anymore.

There has been so much damage done to the both of them that staying in this marriage, at this point, would just be cruel and spiteful and selfish. No matter how many sleepless nights they spend craving each other’s hold, wanting to climb out of their own beds and into the one they once shared so nobly, they have to let it all go.

And neither of them can breathe or bear to listen to these lawyers go on and on about what happens now — what will happen when they walk out of the courtroom, how their lives are going to be split, how they’re going to have to take turns spending time with the son they should be raising together as a family. 

They don’t care about their lives after this moment in time because it will no longer be lived alongside one another, and that ensured a lifetime of misery for the both of them.

And they can’t even find the heart to look at each other. One look and who knows what decisions they’d make in their fragility. Who knows how far their love could take them to do such nonsense, such childish things.

One look and it’s over for the both of them.

“Mrs. Styles,” Y/n flinches at the name he so pathetically decided to refer to her as. “Your husband has left you with everything. This would mean that custody of Topher, the money, your home in both London and Alaska would be fully held in your possession.” 

And suddenly, the room that was once so still and so lifeless begins to spin before her very eyes. The world is spiraling out of her control and her body is in so much shock, the only thing she can manage to do is grip at the edge of the table so tight, her fingers and knuckles turn white. 

“Can you repeat that?” 

Her eyes are wet, wide, and unblinking as she looks back up at Harry’s lawyer she hasn’t even bothered remembering the name to. 

“That last bit. I need you to repeat it for me.”

He coughs awkwardly, his eyes drifting between Harry and Y/n before they finally settle back down to his paper. “Yes, ma’am. Uh, in your possession would be full custody of Topher, the seventeen million euros under Mr. Styles’ name, and your home in both London and Alaska.” 

Alaska.

The word strikes her so deep and so unexpectedly, her breath halts in her chest and every muscle in her body buckles against each other. 

And how could one word have so much power over her? How could one word make her feel a million different things all at once — leaving her so confused yet so hopeful, so heartbroken yet so fulfilled?

“Our home in Alaska?”

Her eyes are no longer trained on the man who just spoke that very word to her — no, they are now looking directly at the man who seems even more beaten and broken than the last time she saw him, the same man who shared all her wildest dreams. 

And though she barely had any composure as it was, the parts of herself that were patched together with needle and thread are rupturing and bleeding out. And Harry has to so helplessly watch as the love of his life starts to crack and shatter at his feet. 

“You didn’t, Harry! No you fucking didn’t!” 

She punches at the table before holding her head in her hands, sobbing and choking and wailing in her palms. She can’t even imagine how pathetic she looks to lawyers around her but she doesn’t find it in herself to care. 

They’ll never understand what that house in Alaska truly means to her, what it’s gotten her through and how much it’s kept her fighting through it all. They don’t know that living in that house with Harry — spending her days and her nights there, by his side until her dying day there — was her one and only dream.

And she had no idea it could have been her reality, until now. 

“Of course I did, Y/n.” Harry whispers, his wrists wiping harshly at his red and swollen eyes. “I bought it that night.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Y/n pleads under her hysterics.

“Twenty acres, right by the water, across from the mountains, just like you talked about.”

Her cries only get stronger as she thinks about it all over again. And normally when she thought of it, it warmed her heart and filled her bones up with so much anticipation and impatience she could hardly contain herself.

But now, when she thinks of it, it leaves her cold and empty because it was right there — it was theirs and it was going to happen and they could be there right now and it’s all too much for her to handle. 

She’s practically screaming between her hiccups and mewls now, really trying to breathe through the clenching in her chest and the quivering in her lungs but she can’t. And she is so lightheaded she swears she’s going to pass out right then and there, especially now that she’s sobbing so hard her throat pulses around a cry she can’t breathe it out.

And she’s going to die, she’s absolutely sure of it. Her entire body is flushed and shaking and her face is nearly blue — her lungs are collapsing and her heart is failing and she’s crashing out without warning. 

And the sight alone brings Harry to his knees, hunched over the floor as he nearly hurls up the bile rumbling in his stomach. 

He did this to her — did this to them. He is the only one to blame and that’s what devours him the most. 

They could be at that Alaskan house right now, on that stupid fucking hammock drinking wine and making out like two lovestruck teenagers still learning how to be the best versions of themselves for each other. And they could be so drunk they fall to grass below them, dazed in their fits of laughter, falling in love all over again.

But instead they have fallen to the ground in a courtroom so willing to burn them out, wrecked and broken in each other’s arms, trying to remember what it feels like to have a heartbeat.

And all that remains are the two piles of divorce papers that they still have yet to sign.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 5

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: A call with one of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,075

Warnings: Reader experiences a panic attack, use of a swear word, angst, reference to most recent Mandalorian episode so I guess it’s kind of spoiler-ish, hurt/comfort and more angst

Author Note: All the love to everyone who follows along with this series! I joined AO3 recently so all these parts will be on there as well at LittleMissPascal. I’m actually really nervous about the response to this particular segment so...be gentle, please ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 4 and Part 6

Photo Inspiration: 

“Cupid 1-1-7, am I hearing you correctly? You said there was an explosion?”

You scrub a hand over your face, biting back a sigh lest the comlink picks it up. “Not a literal one, sir. I’m still not sure what happened, just that when my client touched a potential match’s hand there was this...invisible blast of energy or something.”

The silence on the other end is enough to make you want to slam your head against the wall of the Razor Crest. You’d called headquarters as soon as you and Din had returned to his ship, figuring if anyone had a clue as to what the hell had happened it’d be one of your superiors. 

After twenty minutes of explaining your predicament not once, but three times, you’re beginning to realize you were evidently mistaken.

“Remind me again, Cupid 1-1-7, what name was it you referred to this immortal client of yours as?” Over the comlink, your boss’ voice sounds as if he’s gargling jagged rocks, deep and throaty. You can imagine the narrowed-eyed look he’d be giving you in person and you’re grateful you’re not currently having this conversation over a holoprojector. 

“I didn’t.” 

Your eyes drift to the ladder leading up to the cockpit where Din is located. Something inside of you is insistent you keep Din’s identity hidden from your superiors. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, certainly not with any of your former clients. Part of you thinks of the sensation as possessiveness, but what have you to be possessive of? You have no claim to him, nothing tying you to one another. 

“Interesting,” your boss says, dry as the Dune Sea.

“My client is high-profile, sir. He asked me to remain discreet and I intend to uphold his request.” You clutch the comlink against your chest, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm as you wait to hear if he believed your lie or not.

“This...incident you’ve described, it does bring to mind an event in history with similar details.” There is a shuffling sound that echoes over the device, resembling papers being picked up and flipped through. He hums, a long drawn out note that makes your skin crawl. “Yep, here’s the report right here, referencing an outburst erupting as a result of the physical contact between a potential pair.”

You wait for more information, drumming your fingers against a nearby crate.

“Unfortunately, you are not of rank to hear the specifics.”

“But—”

“I must say though, the Moff will be most interested in this development,” he continues, ignoring your protest as if you hadn’t opened your mouth at all. 

Heart lodging in your throat at the mention of the head seraph, you manage to choke out, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Hess.”

“That’s sir to you, Cupid 1-1-7.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Forgive me, sir.” You’re two seconds from babbling yourself off a cliff and you can’t find the off switch for your mouth. “It’s just. Moff Gideon is so busy, as I’m sure you know, and I would hate to bother him with this case when I have everything under control—”

“Except that you clearly don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made this call.”

His words hit you like a punch, silencing you.

“The Moff will hear about this, as well as your breaking protocol by concealing information from your superior when directly asked. No doubt he will be as displeased about your behavior as I am.” 

Your eyes fall shut as you listen, slumping against the ship’s wall and sliding down onto the cold floor. You feel disconnected from the situation, as if he’s discussing someone else’s fate instead of your own. 

“In the meantime,” his voice drones on, adding more weight to the pressure on your chest. “I will permit you forty-eight hours to complete your assignment before I officially relegate it to another Cupid. You will also be ordered to take a reassessment test of your basic understanding of standard Cupid regulations.”

You squeeze your eyes together tighter, feeling like you’re about to throw up. Each breath you take feels pointless, as if there is no longer any oxygen in the air, but you have enough pride left to keep you from having a breakdown with your boss still on the line. 

“Do you understand the terms in which I’ve stated to you, Cupid 1-1-7?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amor vincit omnia.” The parting mantra sounds almost sinister coming from his mouth.

“Amor vincit omnia,” you echo, forcing your voice to remain steady.

The comlink clicks off. The floodgates open not a second later.

You press your palms against your mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wrack your body so they don’t disrupt the silence of the cargo hold. The tears streaming down your face refuse to be stifled though, burning your eyes as they fall. Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, a frantic drumming counting down the seconds until you either scream or pass out. Or both.

It’s an ugly, hysterical kind of crying that can’t be stopped once started, not even when you hear movement from the ladder right before Din slides down it, boots thudding loudly against the floor. 

And then it seems like Din is right there in front of you without ever having moved, unnaturally fast and stealthy, gloved fingers resting on your shoulders. He’s taken off his helmet, brown eyes full of such concern it only makes you cry harder seeing them, further increasing his worry.

“Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he murmurs, a note of franticness in his voice as he looks you over for injuries, finding none except for the few scratches along your arms you’d received earlier when you landed in the dirt.

You shake your head when he tries to move your hands away from your face, emitting a choked hiccup that threatens to crack your already-bruised rib cage with its intensity. 

“Angel, you’ve got to breathe, okay?” Din says, soft and soothing. You blink through your watery vision, finding his gaze again, and he offers you a small, reassuring smile. “In and out. Just like this.” He inhales a purposefully deep breath, then slowly releases it without once breaking eye contact.

You try to copy him, but your nose is stuffed with snot and your lungs hitch with another round of sobs, ruining your attempt.

“Can I…?” Din again reaches for one of your hands, this time hovering without attempting direct contact, waiting for your consent. 

Trembling, it feels like a monumental task to remove your hand from where it’s glued to the top of your other one still covering your mouth. Din grabs onto your wrist and brings your hand to his chest plate, pressing it against the cool beskar.

“Together, okay? In and out.”

He continues his litany of encouragement, patient and calm, and gradually your heaving sobs begin to lose their power, enabling you to reclaim control of your lungs. Catching your breath, you begin to wipe away the lingering tears with the hand not still held gently in Din’s grip. 

“Sorry,” you sniff, embarrassed. The beginning ache of a migraine starts to form in the back of your head, worsening when you try to move too quickly, and you bite back a wince.

His grip on your wrist tightens in admonishment. “There’s no need to be,” he says, but your ears detect his thinly restrained anger. “Who were you speaking to?”

“He’s one of my superiors. Valin Hess,” you answer, biting your lip.

“I should have him wiped clean from the galaxy for making you cry,” Din hisses, a snarl on his face and eyes darkening with rage.

Face to face with anyone else, you would have felt terrified being so close to such open hostility. But this is how Din expresses his overprotective nature, making himself a more dangerous threat than the enemy, and for that reason, you could never be scared of him. 

“Din, listen to me,” you say, curling your hand in his grasp until he yields to your movements and allows you to intertwine your fingers with his gloved ones. “What happened on Sorgan when you touched Omera’s hand, Hess said it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. He wouldn’t give me the details though because I’m not high enough rank.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Cupids had any kind of ranking system.”

“It’s based on how long you’ve existed. I’ve only been a Cupid for fifty years now, barely made any kind of lasting imprint on the galaxy.”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, shooting you a stern look. “You’ve made a bigger impact than you could ever know.”

Struck momentarily speechless, you can only watch as he moves to sit on the floor beside you, clasped hands settling between his thigh and yours. The pauldron on his shoulder presses against the upper half of your arm and you tilt your head until your temple rests against it.

“That’s not what made you upset,” Din says.

You don’t need to shake your head, confirming the truth he already knows, but you do anyway, comforted by the cold metal rubbing across your forehead.

“What did he tell you, angel?”

You know by how he squeezes your hand that he genuinely wants to hear what happened. You know he must hear it from you because no one else can break the news. And you know you cannot lie to him because Hess’ intervening affects him even more than it does yourself. Still, in spite of knowing all of this, the words don’t come out any easier.

“I have only two days to figure out who your soulmate is before he reassigns you another Cupid.”

Din goes abruptly stiff. “What.”

“Because of the explosion and then also because I broke protocol by refusing to say you were my client, Hess believes I’m not handling things well and should be replaced by someone better.”

If you hadn’t known Din was immortal, you would think he died with how still he remains at your side. Leaning back with increasing worry, you see him staring forward across the cargo hold, granting you only a glimpse of the side of his face.

He...Oh, Maker. 

He looks kriffing pissed.

“Din—”

“How...” he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw. “How could they ever think there is anyone better than you?”

For the job, you tell yourself, not allowing your hopes to rise. He means there isn’t anyone better for the job.

“I’m just a Cupid,” you tell him weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “I—”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” he snaps, the closest he’s ever come to yelling at you, turning to meet your gaze with fire burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, his intensity making you feel like cornered prey. 

When he speaks again, his baritone voice has become a low murmur, each word carefully chosen and bleeding sincerity. “Everything you said about knowing who your soulmate is—I want to experience all of it with you. Only you. You’re it for me, angel.”

You freeze, unable to believe what you’re hearing, train of thought coming to a screeching halt. For the second time during this conversation, you’ve lost your voice, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“You’re it for me,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s pleading for you to believe him. “So tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. You’re the only Cupid I could ever want by my side.”

The reference of your designation is like dumping a bucket of ice water over your head, shocking your entire system. You wrench yourself away from him, stumbling onto your feet.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you say as you start to pace around the room, hearing the hysterical edge in your own voice.

He stands up, expression warring between confusion and irritation. “I know you feel something too. Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because we can’t be together, Din,” you answer, blinking back the unbidden tears starting to form again. “I’m not your soulmate. It isn’t possible!” 

“Angel.” He catches your elbow when you pass by him, forcing you to face him. His voice is brittle when he speaks, already expecting your answer to shatter his wounded heart. “Why can’t you be with me?”

“Because I’ve already met my soulmate. And he wasn’t you.”

Tag List:  @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk

[tsukishumai]

could i get an “im so proud of you” with mattsun like the reader had been trying really hard to get into a certain college and they do but unfortunately their family doesnt praise em or anything mattsun does 🥺

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: ty for requesting love and I just want to preface this by saying that if you’re going thru this yourself, just know that any and all education is a blessing to be thankful for, no matter what school you go to or what subject you study! Be proud :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Then what did they say?”

“Nothing, Issei,” you grumbled into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you paid the bus fare, “That’s the problem. They didn’t tell me anything. No ‘congratulations’, no ‘we’re proud of you’. Not even a pat on the back to say ‘good job’.”

You hear your boyfriend sigh from the other end, and you mirrored the sound once you settled into your seat. You’re holding your phone to your ear now, leaning your head against the window as you watched the scenery fly by.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Matsukuwa finally said, knowing there was not much else he could say to remedy the situation at hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” you say sincerely, and a part of you felt bad for unloading your issues to Matsukawa in the first place. He was undoubtedly feeling guilty, and it was over something that has absolutely nothing to do with him.

“I’ll be alright, Issei. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Matsukawa sputtered out a quick ‘be safe, see you soon’ before you heard the familiar click that signaled the end of a phone call.

You let out another heavy sigh before tucking your phone into your purse, turning your attention back to watching the streets.

The time alone had caused you to spiral within your own thoughts. No one else could possibly understand the magnitude of effort you had put into getting accepted into your dream university.

You did it all on your own. You researched the requirements, paid for all the application fees yourself, took yourself to the entrance exams, not to mention the presentation of your portfolio that is years in the making.

You’ve waited all of your life to receive that embossed envelope that contained your acceptance, a top college with the most prestigious art program in the country, and the day has finally come — proof of your entire life’s worth condensed into one word: Congratulations!

You should be happy— ecstatic, even. You’ve proven that you can do it all yourself.

Yet you still cannot shake the undeniable urge for approval from your family, coupled with the inevitable feeling of disappointment from both sides.

An announcement from the bus’s speakers had let you know that you’ve arrived to your stop. You quickly get up from you seat, hopping off the bus to start the eight minute walk to Matsukawa’s house.

You’re just going have to be proud enough of yourself, you’ve decided. You haven’t relied on others before, why would you start now? If your family didn’t see the worth in your accomplishments, then that’s their loss. You didn’t need to explain anything further than that.

Matsukawa’s house comes into view, and you take one moment to collect yourself. One deep breath in, one deep breath out. You shook off the bad energy that had been following you for days, plastering a smile on before knocking on your boyfriend’s door.

Matsukawa answered the door in 1.7 seconds, a cheeky grin aimed at you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a soft kiss on the cheek, “I’m glad you got here safely.”

You gave him a grateful smile, taking your shoes off before entering his home.

“You ok?” He asked cautiously, taking your bag from your hand.

“Better now,” you answer honestly, and Matsukawa wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m glad. Are you thirsty? Let’s get a drink from the kitchen.”

You nod absentmindedly, following Matsukawa’s lead without a second thought. He makes the turn down the hall that lead into his dining room, reaching over to flip the light switch on in the darkened room.

“SURPRISE!”

You jumped at the sudden assault to your senses. The overhead soft yellow light instantly illuminated the familiar faces of your friends huddled around Matsukawa’s dining room table. The room was decorated with streamers in your favorite color, balloons spread out throughout different corners, and a large banner stretched across the wall that read C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S!

Oikawa was the first face you see, standing at the very front with a party hat on, smiling widely as his eyes twinkled with amusement. Iwaizumi stood next to him, arms crossed and smirking as if he were the mastermind of the whole idea in the first place. Makki stood towards the back, along with Kunimi and Kindaichi, looking completely out of place in the crowded dining room. A cake sat in the middle of the dining table, your name written in blue icing followed by more well wishes.

“You guys...” you croak out, but felt your throat dry out. You turn to Matsukawa standing next to you, who managed to procure a “Congrats Grad” sash and party hat from thin air. He had a genuine smile on his face when he placed the sash around your torso, and securing the strap of the party hat on your chin.

“Congratulations, baby,” he whispered before placing a kiss on your temple, “I’m so proud of you.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. You choked back an ugly sob before lurching forward to bury your face in his chest. Matsukawa held his hand out to his teammates when they all stepped forward to check on you. They froze in their place as Matsukawa wrapped his arms around your shaking shoulders.

He rubbed soothing circles on your back, feeling his chest get wet from your tears. You clutched onto the fabric of his shirt tightly, and Matsukawa kept you in place until you felt ready to let go.

An eternity (or two minutes) later, you slowly pull away from Matsukawa, his hands immediately moving up to wipe away your tears.

“It’s okay,” he said, chuckling a little at the pout on your face.

You turned towards the boys that were waiting meekly to the side.

You didn’t say anything when you opened your arms out, your sobs soon replaced by the cheers and tackles of the boys that had shown you endless support throughout the years, and shooting a grateful smile to the wavy haired boy that’s only ever shown you love.

[definitelyseven]

hurts so good | five

summary: growing up with Park Jinyoung was never easy and things are about to get worse when you’ve been asked to marry him

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve - final |

It was already noon and there was still no sign of Jinyoung. He promised he was going to come first thing in the morning. You were worried that the sweet gestures that he had shown was temporary. You debated on whether to call him to see if he was coming - to see if anyone was going to pick you up from the hospital today. 

The door to your room opened and you thought it was Jinyoung but it was actually your mother-in-law. “Mother,” you greeted, slightly disappointed.

She immediately chuckles, “You were expecting Jinyoung.”

“He said he was going to be here first thing in the morning. It’s already noon,” you explained.

“He’s been busy all morning getting things ready for you to come home. He’s with the doctor now,” she explained. You let out a sigh of relief. “He came home last night and told us what happened. He feels terrible.”

“It was accident,” you said. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not blaming anyone. We’re just glad you’re both okay,” she tells you. “He seemed different yesterday. He was worried about you.”

“He did seem concerned before he left last night.”

“I think things will go well after this,” she said. “Now, you can focus on giving me a grandchild.”

“We’ll do our best,” you lied. In all honesty, even though you and Jinyoung have been married for a year, the both of you have never been intimate . You share the same bed but he has never touched you. He never even tried. 

“Hey,” Jinyoung called as soon as he walked into your room. You gave him a subtle smile as he made his way towards your side. He leans down to give your forehead a small kiss. Your mother-in-law smiles widely at you two. “Doctor says you’re good to go,” he tells you as he rubs your back. 

Jinyoung held onto your hand tightly during the whole ride home - one hand on the wheel, the other in yours. You felt happy that he was finally showing affection towards you. You felt secure. He spent the rest of the afternoon by your side, making sure you have everything you needed. His sincerity was genuine. You could tell it wasn’t an act.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” you tell him. 

“Let me help you,” he offered. You sat their frozen. 

“It’s okay,” you declined. “Can you call Louise to come help me?” you suggested instead.

“I’m your husband,” he explained, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “I know we haven’t been intimate but I’m still your husband. I won’t look.”

“Okay,” you agreed. You didn’t have major injuries but you were still sore all over. You couldn’t even lift your arm up and still had a limp. You sit down on the toilet as Jinyoung helps take off your clothes. You laughed lightly seeing how he shut his eyes why standing in front of you. “Jinyoung, open your eyes.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to peek.”

“You need to see to lift my top over my arms,” you clarified. He nodded, slowly opening his eyes. You winced in pain as he pulled your arms carefully out of your top. You stood up slowly, dropping your pants onto the ground.

“Is the water okay?” Jinyoung asked. 

“It’s perfect,” you said as he brings a towel over your back, letting the water drip down your body. From a distance, you hear his phone ring for the sixth time since you got in the bathtub. “Your phone’s ringing.”

“It’s okay. Let it go to voicemail,” he said nonchalantly while scrubbing your back.

“Jinyoung, it’s okay - go get it,” you tell him with a smile. “You spent the whole day with me already. Go,” you tell him again.

“Okay I’ll be right back,” he said giving your temple a peck. “Don’t get up yourself,” he tells you. 

You sighed in content, thinking your relationship with Jinyoung had finally gotten better. You pushed the water against your body, keeping yourself warm. You kept looking back at the door to see if he was back but Jinyoung was gone for longer than you had expected - 10 minutes turned to 30, turned to 45 minutes. The water had turned cold and you were shivering. Your body felt better after the water bath so you thought getting up would be okay. You slowly stood up from the bathtub, hugging your body to keep yourself warm. The next thing you know you hear someone screaming your name, hovering over you. 

You slowly opened your eyes, hearing the same beeping as the other day. You knew where you were. 

“Shut up! If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t happen!” Jinyoung whispered loudly in the phone. “What do you want from me? I came to you immediately last night!”

You held your breath - afraid of letting him know you were awake. He was with that girl last night. He left you for her. Your heart ached, disappointed that you actually thought he had change. You actually thought he was starting to love you, care about you. If he didn’t, why did he take care of you? Why did he give you hope that this marriage could actually work?

“Alright, alright. I’ll come as soon as I can,” he tells the person on the other line. 

Tears slowly fell from the corner of your eyes. You were devastated. 

“Okay, love you too. Bye,” he said before hanging up.

Love you.

He loves someone else. 

You opened your eyes slowly as you hear him approach your bed. “Hey...” he said in a gentle tone. His eyes were soft and he had a small pout as if he was regretful about what he did. “I’m sorry,” he apologized but you didn’t say anything. He leaned down to kiss you but you quickly moved away. You didn’t want to be touched. You didn’t want to look at him because you knew you would burst into tears if you did. You gently shut your eyes, careful not to let any tears fall. You hear Jinyoung sigh before leaving your room. After a few minutes, the door opens again. 

“Mrs. Park,” the doctor called. You opened your eyes to look at him. “Just a little slip and minor concussion,” he tells you. “But you’re all good to go home.”

“Can I stay here another night?” you asked the doctor. The doctor looks at Jinyoung and then back at you. “I can do that, right? Request for an extended stay?”

“Y-yes but we thought you’ll feel more comfortable at home,” he pointed out. 

“No, I’m comfortable here. I’ll get the care I need here,” you said.

“Y/N,” Jinyoung called but you ignored him. 

“Thanks Doctor,” you smiled before he left awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry I left you there,” he apologized again.

“Can I please be alone?” you choked. “Get out,” you tell him. 

“Y/N, don’t be like that.”

“Get out!” you shouted at him. 

Jinyoung lets out a heavy sigh, “I’ll come back in a bit, okay?” You shut your eyes pretending to go to sleep. 

You knew he was going to see her. 

You were exhausted - mentally drained from this relationship. No matter how hard you tried, how forgiving you were, he would never know. You loved him for so long. How could he do this to you? 

The door to your room slowly opens again, “Get out!”

“It’s me.” It was your father.

“Dad,” you greeted with a smile, tears struggling to escape. He rushes by your side and pulls you in for a hug.

“Where is Jinyoung? He should be here looking after you,” he questioned.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sniffled.

“Did you guys have an argument?” he continued to question. You shake your head, not wanting him to know what a tough time you were actually having. “It’s alright sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged. 

“It hurts,” you cried in his shoulder as he hugged you tight. “It hurts so bad.”

“Where does it hurt?” your father questioned. “Do you want me to get the doctor?” 

You shake your head. “No physical pain can compare to what I’m feeling in my heart. I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you sobbed into his jacket. Your father comforts you, rubbing your back up and down trying to calm you down.

“If it hurts, then let go. I hate seeing you like this,” your father said. 

“I love him,” you cried. “I love him so much.”

“But he doesn’t love you. I saw how he treated you at dinner,” he points out. He was right. Your father pulls you away slightly to look at you. You could tell he was hurting, seeing you like this. “I’ve troubled you enough,” he begins to say.

“No...” you said wiping your tears away. “Don’t say that,” you choked. 

“It’s true. If I didn’t gamble all our money away, you wouldn’t have to marry him. You’re hurting because of me,” your father began to cry. “This is all my fault, honey.”

“No daddy,” you cried. “This is not your fault. I’m fine,” you forced a smile. “I’m really okay. I can take this,” you assured him, pulling him in for a hug. “Just let me complain every once in awhile,” you joked trying to lighten up the mood. 

“I’m so sorry, my beautiful daughter. I’m so sorry,” he cried. 

“Dad, I’m your daughter. It’s my job to take care of you,” you assured him again. “You never have to apologize to me.” He gives you a weak smile before pinching your cheek. 

You repeated to yourself - everything will be okay. You can take this. Even if Jinyoung didn’t love you, you were still his wife. At the end of the day, you were the one in his arms. You were the one he introduced as his wife in public, not the other women.

[fizzychocolatemilk]

You've Got a Friend in Me (You've Got Troubles. I've Got 'em too.) (A Bakudeku Tropetember Fic)

Another Tropetember thingy (this one is a little late though...oops). I classify this one as a fic because it surpassed 1K. This one is for day eight:  5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time). AO3 link is here. It’s slightly angsty...so beware of feels.

tw: use of the f slur, homophobia, unsupportive parents, bullying

(1.)

“You’ll always be nothing but some dumbass, lightning-bolt faggot! You should just pack up and quit the hero course now. You’re too stupid to ever make it further than some lowly sidekick position,” the boy finished his abuse before dissolving into obnoxious laughter. 

 Said boy was one of Denki’s middle school classmates. Denki had accidentally run into him because he was texting Eijirou. The boy had looked over his shoulder and seen Eiji’s name (along with a heart) and started making fun of him for being “a faggot”. Denki knew he shouldn’t take what some asshole said to heart, but the things that he said reminded Denki of other times when he had been put down similarly. Lots of people seemed to think he was an incompetent dumbass who could never do anything right unless he had help, and, while sure, he was a little slow in academics...he definitely had other skill sets that made him a kick-ass hero! That didn’t mean that it was easy to convince himself of that.

 “Denki-kun! Hi!” a voice broke Denki out of his spiral.

 Denki turned toward the voice and, low and behold, it was Izu-kun. Denki gave Izuku a weak smile and a wave as he stood tensely next to the bully.

 “Denki! Who’s this? A friend?” Izuku asked as he walked up to the two. His voice sounded dangerous, and Denki could hear the “or foe?” that came after his words. At 17, Class 3-A knew that Izuku was dangerously protective of his friends, and they all did their best not to provoke his fury in any way. Because a feral Izuku was terrifying. 

 The bully didn’t know this though, and he simply laughed before “greeting” Izuku, “Ah, guess we’ve got another faggot. Or did you not know that Lightning Dolt here was a twink?”

 Izuku’s aura darkened several degrees at the boy's statement but still he shot the boy a bright (but fake) smile, “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I fucking destroy you.”

 The boy’s face dropped and he blinked, “Uhhh...what?”

 Izuku continued to smile, “One.”

 The boy’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait, man!”

 “Two.”

 The boy started running, “We can talk about this!”

 “Three,” Izuku immediately gave chase—or he would have if Denki hadn’t given him a small shock and held him back. Izuku struggled for a second before sighing and turning to Denki, “Denki-kun, you are more than just a brainless idiot and more than just a...a...you know. You’re amazing and talented in your own right and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

 Denki blinked in surprise before blushing lightly, “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it.” He smiled genuinely at Izuku.

 (2.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo,” the dark-haired woman stared harshly down at her daughter, “You may feel like this now, but one day you’ll find a nice, upstanding gentleman that captures your heart. Not some...punk-rock freak-girl.”

 Momo stared down at her feet and sighed softly before replying, “Yes, mother.”

 However, as she turned to make her way into the dorms, and her mother turned to meet with the chauffeur, she heard a very familiar voice. “Excuse me, ma’am! Yaoyorozu-san! May I have a word with you?” Momo turned to see Izuku-kun coming down the dorm steps and speed walking down the lawn to meet with the two women. He had a slightly dangerous aura (someone outside of Class A wouldn’t even notice), but Momo stood rigid as her friend stood up to her mother, “Yaoyorozu-san. I think you should consider taking your daughter more seriously. 

 “You might not know me well personally, but Yaomomo-chan and I know each other very well and I would consider us good friends. She’s smart, resourceful, and talented, and I think we can both agree that she will make a fantastic hero. But Yaomomo-chan is also responsible and mature, definitely mature enough to make her own decisions about her relationship choices. 

 “My own mother is very protective of me too, but I think that part of being a parent means accepting and supporting children through their choices and the consequences of those choices (good or bad), even if they aren’t choices that you, yourself, would make. I hope that you can come to respect Yaomomo-chan’s decisions about her own future, and find comfort in the fact that I, and everyone else in Class A, will always offer her our full support. Thank you for your time.” Izuku bowed politely before turning to Momo. “Kacchan made dinner. You should come eat it before it gets cold,” he smiled before heading back inside.

 Momo’s mother looked surprised for a second before saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. Momo smiled after her before whispering under her breath, “You are a marvelous friend, Izuku-kun.”

 (3.)

Hanta was in a rush to get to class. Usually he was pretty punctual, but today he missed his alarm so he wasn’t feeling the best. Anxious and rushed, he accidentally ran into the worst person reasonably possible.

 “Ahah, if it isn’t the plain-faced tape dispenser from Class A!” Monoma laughed, “Late to class, I see! Tsk, tsk, yet another reason Class B is superior! At the very least we’re punctual!”

 Hanta deadpanned at the slate-eyed boy, “You know you’re late too, right?”

 Monoma’s jaw dropped for a second before he regained his composure. He huffed and took another angle, “Well, at least I have a personality! You’re so boring that it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to you at all. You’re almost more invisible than the invisible girl in your class! Not to mention that you’ll probably never get a girlfriend, hah!”

 Hanta rolled his eyes, despite the pang in his heart, before maneuvering himself to speed-walk past Monoma. “I’m literally dating Shou. It’s been the hot gossip for the past few days, and you’re definitely shallow enough to keep up with the gossip mill.”

 Monoma guffawed, “How did a plain-faced peasant like you end up with someone as high class as Todoroki? It’s a wonder, isn’t it? But, of course, I’m sure you’ve been hearing that for the past few days, haven’t you?”

 Hanta knew that he shouldn’t take anything that Monoma says seriously, but he’d been hearing how “unworthy” he was of Shouto for the past few days (since their relationship became public knowledge). The scathing words got to him and it made him doubt himself a little. He sped off towards his classroom, ignoring Monoma’s jeers in the background.

 That day, during a joint training session, Izuku requested to be paired with Monoma...and maybe Izuku went a little harder than he usually did. Maybe Monoma ended up in the infirmary before class ended, but it was training so Izuku couldn’t really be blamed for accidentally injuring his classmate, could he?

 Hanta smiled as he now had an explanation for the flash of green he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye as he was rushing to class after the encounter.

 (+1.) 

Katsuki slapped Deku on the back after training. “What the fuck was that, nerd?! You fucking beat the hell outta the Copycat Freak! Why can’t you ever go that hard when we train?”

 Deku’s face flushed as he turned a blinding smile at Katsuki. Cute. Katsuki shook himself from his thoughts as Deku started talking to him. “I guess I just got really into the exercise, Kacchan!”

 Katsuki could tell that Izuku’s words weren’t the whole truth but he decided to gloss over it for now in favor of focusing on a topic that had been bugging him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mochi Head lately. Skimping on our training. Any specific reason, Deku?”

 Katsuki watched as Deku’s face flushed again, but this time it made a pit grow in his stomach. The pit grew as Deku stumbled over his words for a few minutes before answering, “We’ve just been helping each other study, Kacchan.” 

 “You’re fucking lying, stupid Deku,” Katsuki scoffed as his heart started cracking, tiny pieces falling into the void. “But it’s fucking fine. If you’d rather waste time with your girlfriend like a dumbass then I’ll take the number one spot all the more easily,” he said, but the words felt ashy in his mouth, empty and non-fulfilling.

 He started walking away when there was a sharp tug on his wrist. “Kacchan!” It was Deku. It was always Deku. Katsuki stopped trying to pull away, but he didn’t turn around yet. “I love you! No one else! Ochako-chan has just been helping me work through my feelings for you! She has feelings for someone else!” Katsuki turned sharply to see Deku staring intensely at him. “You are my symbol of victory. My hero. My Kacchan. It’s only ever been you, so please. Please allow me to stand by your side!”

 Katsuki sniffled before completely breaking down in tears from the emotional taxation of the last few minutes. Being the empathetic crier he is, Deku broke down with him and they held each other and sobbed. After a couple more minutes, Katsuki had pulled himself together enough to respond, “Y-yeah, dumb Deku. Keep your eyes on me.”

 Katsuki stood and extended a hand to Izuku to help him up. Izuku stared at him fondly for a split second before taking his offer. They walked back to the dorms side-by-side and hand-in-hand.