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helenazbmrskai · 4 years ago

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It’s all timing - pjm

– If you’re searching for a light and fluffy read well, this won’t be your cup of tea so continue with caution darlings! –

Title – It’s all timing

Pairing – cold husband! Jimin x clocksmith! OC

Genre – fantasy, romance, extreme amount of angst, time travel, smut, marriage, established relationship, Ceo, exes to lovers

Summary – I learnt the hard way that marriage can change a person. I would have never thought that an old watch will let me have a glimpse of my ex-husband’s world but don’t be mistaken I’m not here to fix things. I’m here to change it.

Warning(s) – Jimin is not a loveable character here (until way way later), cheating, mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation, falling in and out of love, the past and present clash a lot, different timelines that may be confusing, this is going to be a wild ride girls and boys, themes of depression and sadness, feeling of worthlessness, and self-image distortion, numbness, discussion of not wanting to have children. Unedited.

Word Count – (5.2k)

[21st March 2021]

Things between us were not always complicated. Our friendship was always exceptional even when friends fought and sought different ways after freshman year at the local Community College, Jimin and I were glued to each other’s side and maybe that’s why no one was surprised as we announced our plans to get married after we graduated.

The new world that greeted us after we finished high school only seemed meaningful because I had Jimin by my side. At that time I had no idea I’ll fall for him this hard, he literally became the extension of myself, my arms and limbs and the lungs that kept me alive. He was my first serious boyfriend even though I dated a few guys here and there before him but none of those relationships seemed to work out either because of me or the guy. Jimin is someone who could easily have his ways with words so when he decided to show interest in me as in more than friends, it was inevitable that I would give in. He was a wonderful lover in the beginning. Passionate and loving, we had many movie nights that ended up with his hands down my pants as his thick fingers rubbed my clit. He bought me flowers and comforted me when I had a bad day.

His cunning smile could get him out of a lot of trouble. Maybe that’s why I never saw the other side of him that sometimes peeked through his carefully crafted mask. I decided to ignore all the red flags until I found myself in a loveless marriage with a man that I couldn’t recognise anymore. Once I realised what had happened it was already too late.

[12nd November 2018]

Jimin hated the fact that I was a heavy sleeper. He even threatened me once that he’ll sleep in the guest room if he had to wake up one more time to my alarm relentlessly ringing while I showed no signs of waking up any time soon.

My workspace was on the other side of town. The rent was cheap so it was worth the extra miles and the full tank of gas in my car but because of it I had to wake up extra early so I could finish showering then I would go to the kitchen to make lunch for Jimin to take with him to work and still have enough time to get ready with a freshly brewed coffee in one hand and toast in the other. Even after our first year in marriage passed by like a flash, Jimin continued to be his affectionate self, he showered me with kisses and felt needy for my touch.

It was one of our best years together. Jimin started to get more involved with his father’s company and my workshop began to gain more popularity to my greatest surprise. While I was working on an old clock that was brought into my shop by an old married couple a few hours ago my focus kept wandering back to this morning. Smiling under my nose as I thought back to why I was late to open up my little workshop this particular morning.

Jimin likes to be spontaneous he always calls me a bore when I hesitate to try out new things but this time he did not have to do much convincing before I agreed. It was weirdly satisfying to wake up to Jimin’s head buried between the juncture of my thighs, shaking and aroused even though I couldn’t feel or hear him do all those sinful things to me while I was asleep. I didn’t feel him take off my panties or lift the covers to expose my bare centre to his hungry eyes and when our gazes met he proudly told me how well I took his fingers even while I was unconscious.

Experimenting was not something I was willing to do before Jimin showed me the appeal of trying out new things. With him by my side, I felt invincible like I could conquer the world if he stays next to me holding my hand tight.

We outlived all expectations. They said high school sweethearts don’t last, well, we did. Even though both of our parents were against the idea of us marrying each other so young we ended up doing just that. Jimin proposed after we got our diploma and I said yes. We lived together as roommates throughout all those years we spent together studying and we moved in together after both of us got our first jobs as postgrads.

I was happy it felt like we were at the top of the world but if I had known that after that year everything will go downhill I would have tried to be happier.

[24th December 2019]

Do you know what are the telltales of cheaters? Well, it starts with subtle changes in his behaviour, you begin to see him less he makes up excuses of having too much work to do or stress so that he could avoid your advances.

He tries to make it up to you with expensive gifts but they mean nothing after the tenth impersonal present because all you would ever want is his attention and love instead of those pathetic attempts of showing their devotion with empty words. The last and most important one on the list is the new anonymous contact on his phone that shows several phone calls and text messages back and forth for hours.

Jimin did all of those.

He stopped experimenting with me. He would fuck me from behind even when I told him I want to see his face. No foreplay, no more cute nose kisses and breathless laughs between the acts of lust and playful wandering fingers.

He no longer cared if I finished first or not at all because after he was done it meant it was over. Jimin took a shower and crawled into bed facing away from me now that this task was taken care of. After the fifth time that he left me hanging, I gathered all the courage that’s left in me to stop his hands from dipping under my pants. I felt disgusted and used he made me think I’m a mere fucktoy that he can discard once it lost its appeal.

I had one of the worst days at work. The clock I was working on was missing a crucial part that I could only import from abroad and the man who wanted it fixed told me to don’t bother because he can’t afford such an expensive repair. It was not something that I could control, the clock was antique for fucks sake. He left without paying for my services even though I told him it was not the only part that I needed to change.

On my way home, a drunk man almost crashed into me with his Sedan and it left me a little shaken up, it was justified to feel the way I was and when Jimin tried to make a move on me by groping my breasts without asking permission first I just snapped.

Not one to back up he snapped right back and it led to one of our ugliest fights. I couldn’t believe the words he so carelessly let out from between those poisonous lips. We had quarrels before every couple has that, it’s normal to disagree to some extents but he went too far this time around. It’s not just the words that left me a crying mess on our bedroom floor with snot stuffing my nostrils, sniffing and rubbing the tears from my swollen eyes. I broke down once I heard the front door shut with a force that made the windows shake. It was past midnight when I heard shuffling and muffled voices, I knew Jimin was back so I cracked the door open just enough to peek into the dark living room.

It was not just Jimin, the smell of alcohol penetrated my nostrils as I watched my husband with disgust, making out with a girl in our shared apartment. I couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring this chick back where we’re supposed to live together, it was just too much. Hearing him ram into her from the guest bedroom while I cried in our shared bedroom with just one wall separating us. I bet he didn’t even hear the front door closing while I dialled my friend’s number to pick me up. He couldn’t have heard that over that girl’s loud moaning.

I don’t remember when I finally stopped crying in my friend’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. It was enough humiliation to witness my once loving husband come home with a quick fuck after a fight, it doesn’t matter that he was reeking of expensive shots of alcohol. It didn’t make his actions any less painful.

My heart broke into a million more pieces when I saw him calling me the next day. I didn’t have the guts to pick up, all I could see was him kissing another girl. I bet he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember anything, I wonder if he yelled at the girl in the morning to get the fuck out once he realised it’s not me who lays beside him. Wishful thinking on my part, he probably fucked her in the morning too just before he called me.

Somi finds my body doubled over her toilet throwing up water since it’s been a while I last ate. She helps me through it and gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail so I won’t get any in my hair as beads of sweat and tears are rolling down my face. My body works on autopilot going through the cleaning motions as I take a burning hot shower and then lay down to get some rest. My body aches and the fatigue is evident in every lazy flutter of my lashes.

I hear his voice, pleading to my friend to let him see me. Now it’s dark outside, it must be hours that I slept through. Somi denies that I’m here and I’m thankful for her quick understanding, the last thing I want right now is to face him. Even though I never told her what happened between us she could sense that it’s more than just a little lovers quarrel.

Our second anniversary would have been next month but instead of roses and kisses next to a dimly lit dinner table, there’s only a big envelope with papers. Divorce papers. The first time he sees me after a month of silence is to have his signature that would end this relationship for good. Today should have been a nice memory filled with laughter and passionate lovemaking. Maybe we were never meant to find each other. Better off as friends, these simple yet powerful words might have saved our future back then if one of us were brave enough to say it.

Jimin looks worn out, it’s obvious he rushed here from his office once you called, he wears his formal attire. He didn’t think you would show up even though it’s supposed to be the day that you should celebrate another year of marriage.

The papers lay heavy on his side of the table as he skims through the content he sees that you already signed your part. He picks up the pen that I prepared in advance, his hands are shaking almost crushing the poor stationery in half with the strength that he holds it.

”I don’t want to d-divorce.” It’s the first sentence that he says to me. His lips are quivering and fat tears are rolling down his cheeks by the time he dares to look into my eyes. I’m however are past the point of shedding crocodile tears. I cried over him enough times to make my face feel numb and puffy with the amount of sadness that poured out of my body in pathetic waves. I can’t keep eye contact for long as his face keeps reminding me of that night I tried so hard to erase from my memory this past month. A part of me is furious seeing him cry, he was the one who sealed out fate. He has no right to feel sad or plead with me to give him another chance.

”If you ever loved me, you will sign it. I give you a week to do the right thing.” With those last words, our anniversary ended.

[13rd October 2020]

”It’s been a whole year after your divorce, don’t you think it’s time to get yourself out there again?” So this is why she wanted to see me I realise.

I know Somi means well, but I dread those words coming out of her mouth every once in a while. If I think about it she was always good at choosing the worst timing to bring the subject up. She’s not aware that this particular day holds a lot of those sour memories that I once cherished. This day was once one of the most important days to me, to us.

Today is Jimin’s Birthday, it’s the first time since we became friends and then later lovers that we don’t spend this day together anymore. I don’t know how to feel about it yet. I used this new year to heal from my wounds that the love of my life left behind. Getting used to living alone after living with someone for so long was tough. I caught myself making more food than I needed or when I was shopping I got those yoghurts that Jimin loves so much even though I’ve always hated the taste of those. I end up throwing them out at home. I blocked his number and any kind of social media that I could think of from the top of my head. The silence between us was crushing at first, I thought that there are no more tears left to shed but when I got our divorce papers from my attorney I couldn’t stop the new waves of tears from escaping.

Yet all my efforts seem to be in vain as my mind keeps going back to him. I catch myself wondering how he’s doing. If he feels as shitty as me even after a full year apart. If he ever wished things would have been different between us. I just wanted to know if he ever regretted destroying our marriage because of another girl. I don’t know if they are together or not or if he dates her now that I’m out of the picture but it’s better left this way. I’m already heartbroken, seeing him again would just open up my barely healed wounds.

”Can we not talk about this today? I’m feeling kinda low right now.” I sigh, shaking my head habitually if only it would make me stop thinking about him. There’s an old fashioned watch with a silver-coated socket in front of me, it’s pretty. A middle-aged woman brought it to me today telling me that it was a gift from his grandfather but it was never in working condition. She went to several locksmiths over the years but no one could fix it so she asked at last that I would be willing to pay for it. I found it interesting so I agreed to buy it from her. I started working on the old watch and at the beginning, it didn’t want to tick even when I made the necessary changes. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it when seemingly it didn’t have anything that needed to be fixed.

On my way home after a rough day at work, I bought some soju from the corner convenience store so I could at least get drunk enough to sleep through the whole night. The pills my therapist prescribed for me doesn’t seem to work at all nowadays.

I placed the watch down onto my bedside table and pulled the comforter over my drunk head. I heard the loud ticking of a clock but I don’t remember having one on the wall. I thought that my drunk mind probably was still hung up on the fact that I couldn’t even fix a simple watch so I shrugged the noises off and closed my eyes until red dots filled my vision.

I just need some sleep.

[13rd November 2018]

”Wake up, baby. You’ll be late again.” There’s a kiss on my shoulder then on my temple as warm hands turn me around in bed. It feels oddly familiar to have two hands around my waist that pulls me into a hard chest, blond fluffy hair fills my vision once my eyelashes flutter open.

I’m back in our shared bedroom at his lavish apartment that’s a lot better than the shitty apartment that I was able to afford after our messy divorce. Divorce? Wait. A. Fucking. Minute. What is Jimin doing here holding me? It’s been too long that I saw him but he looks oddly young here, the Jimin I last saw started to get wrinkles and lost a bit of weight but this man reminds me of the boy I fell in love with. I remember getting drunk last night but I’m sure even at the state I was in I couldn’t get here on my own and I don’t remember getting a taxi or even getting up from my bed last night. I frantically search for my phone that I conveniently find on the nightstand, speechless as I watch Jimin stretch like we just didn’t share a bed together after one year of not seeing each other. He shouldn’t look so relaxed while I panic internally.

Then I see the date as my phone screen activates with my touch. I don’t use this phone anymore, I got another one after I blocked Jimin’s number because this device was a birthday present from him that kept reminding me of, well, him so I decided to change it even though I couldn’t afford a similar model like this with my single salary. I remember this day like it only happened yesterday it was around the time that he got a good position at his father’s company and we were both invited to a found raiser event. I bought this beautiful red dress that he eagerly ripped off of me once we were back at home slightly buzzed on the champagne.

It doesn’t make sense though. The only explanation that I can come up with is that I might be still drunk and I’m hallucinating of some sort after all it was just yesterday that Jimin’s birthday made me think about us again.

I lock myself into the bathroom. Sighing in relief once I am able to get away from Jimin’s inquiring eyes. He looked so confused when I refused to kiss him on the lips. I always kissed him goodbye before I went to work when things were still good between us. I just don’t know what to make of things right now, I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all and Jimin acts like he’s my husband rather than my ex-husband who cheated on me.

I splash some water on my face to calm down my nerves and I gasp when I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, it’s long. I got rid of those long locks after our divorce was done, Jimin liked my hair like this, long and curly, so I decided to cut it short.

”Baby, did you bring your work home? I don’t remember seeing this old thing on our nightstand when we went to sleep.” Eyes widening I rip open the bathroom door startling Jimin as I grab the old watch out of his hands. The digits are frozen one at eight and the other at one. 18. 2018? Jimin catches my hand mid-air as I try to slap myself so I could make sure this is not a dream.

”Baby say something. You’re scaring me. Are you alright?” Jimin holds my hand gently thumbs rubbing my skin as his eyes express his worry. It’s been a while since he was so affectionate. He stopped caring for me after he found that girl. I let him pull me into a hug, I missed this. I missed him but this moment doesn’t change the fact that the Jimin I loved so much cheated on me.

I left to go to work earlier than I used to around this time and I know Jimin noticed. I told him to get some takeout for lunch too.

I worked on the clocks hoping that it will distract me but it just made me think of what happened this morning more. Doing it the second time around made the process easier, I knew what was wrong with the clocks before I get them into pieces. I even remembered the young couple who brought an expensive watch to get it more fitted to his arms and he accidentally left his bracelet on my working bench after trying on the watch to see it fits after the adjustments.

Jimin sulked a little after I denied his kisses but he didn’t force me and for that I was thankful. He nagged me even when we were surrounded by his father’s workers at the found raising event to tell him what made me ’mad’ at him because he wants to apologize properly if he did something wrong. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t just tell him he should apologize for something he will do in the future, it will just make me the weird one.

I was nervous to go home after the event because I remember how this night was supposed to end. My hand tightens around his arm when I see her approach us. I feel my stomach sink when she smiles at the both of us, introducing herself as Jimin’s coworker. I didn’t remember meeting her here but at that time I had no idea she’ll be the one who my husband cheats on me with. It was dark that day but I remember her blonde hair and her voice. I remember her moaning Jimin’s name.

”Y/N?” I snap my head towards the sound of his voice. He looks concerned it’s not the first time tonight that he had to repeat what he said. I feel sick, my body subconsciously leans on him to get a grip of reality.

I realised this is when it began. Her smile is anything but genuine as she fakes her concern, I can see the jealousy in her dark orbs as she watches my hand around my husband’s arm. She wanted him for herself all this time. She just doesn’t know yet that she succeeded a year after. A tear slid down my cheeks but I aggressively got rid of it before it could reach my chin. Jimin caged me between his strong arms drawing soothing circles onto my back but it doesn’t affect my body positively how it used to I cried harder inside his arms.

Jimin excused us and she relented even though it was clear as day that she wanted to send me daggers through her stare rather than her wishes for me to get better. The car ride was silent, he didn’t let go of my hand and I let him. I let this version of Jimin comfort me because he didn’t do anything wrong, not yet. He had no idea that this was our last happy years spent together before everything went downhill after that.

He held me in his arms.

[5th March 2019]

After my revisit of 2018, I realised a few things. Firstly, I can travel between time with that old watch that only seem to works for a short period of time until it stops at the year I want to visit. The second thing I learnt is that Jimin can be manipulated with the right words. I decided after that night I saw her face raging with malice and jealousy that I’ll find out what really had happened between them. I know Jimin loved me even though I had doubts about it after our divorce. I knew him well we spend so much time together as friends even before we started dating. However, I never thought he would go so low as to cheat on his wife.

He was always gentle and understanding with me. Accepting the fact that I didn’t want to have children. He loved them but accepted me for who I was and never questioned why I felt this way. He was a good man, a good husband.

So I decided to watch him from afar and when she thought no one was looking, she showed her teeth like a venomous snake planting ideas into Jimin’s head talking shit about me, twisting my actions and words; going as far as telling him she thinks I am cheating on him! I know those pictures were fake as I did no such thing. I was so in love with him I would never betray him like that.

Then I remembered his odd change in behaviour, how he treated our once lovemaking sessions as fucking. How he couldn’t look into my eyes while he buried his dick inside my cunt made sense in a way now.

He thought I was the one who played him. He let himself believe that I was late from our dinners because I was fucking someone behind his back and when I told him I’m not in the mood to have sex. He got even angrier he thought that if I lied to his face he will show me what pain feels like by fucking that snake in our guest bedroom. My head was swimming overwhelmed with this information.

The truth hurt like hell.

I thought I will feel somewhat better once I discovered the truth but I feel even shitter. Jimin believed her, he didn’t bother to ask me if I was indeed cheating on him but can I really blame him? I didn’t ask either when I suspected it. We let our insecurities and that jealous bitch stand in between our marriage making it crumble down to pieces. I was angry, raging as my hand shook with it and it led me back to that day it happened. It felt too late to fix things so I closed my eyes and turned the clock. Leaving everything behind. Once and for all.

There’s nothing left for me to change in our past, I can’t fix our past mistakes but maybe I could change things in the future. Starting with exposing that snake. I wasn’t even surprised to see her as the head of the newly developed department.

[11st April 2021]

Jimin took over the firm after his father fell ill as I got to know from her assistant. I could tell she was surprised to see my face but even more surprised to realise it’s not Jimin’s whereabouts that I want to know but rather hers.

I shouldn’t be this smug about the fact that he cut all ties with her after our divorce. Deep down he was still a good man who couldn’t believe the fact that he fucked someone else while his wife cried next door with just one thin wall separating them.

I pictured this moment in my head a lot after I came back from the past. I’m way past the hurt and anger that settled in my bones for a full year and even before that. Instead, I felt eerily calm for someone who’s here to put up a show for the employees. I don’t even care if they think I’m crazy because once I locate her in her cubicles and dig my hair into her scalp pulling her hair hard with my iron grip all I could feel is utter satisfaction.

”I hope you enjoyed your good fuck. Was it satisfying to make my husband a cheater? I bet it was. Did you think I will never find out that you fed him lies and spread rumours about me sleeping around with men?”

Even the security watched as I pulled her by the hair the commotion around us almost drowned out the crying noises she made because of the pain. I didn’t pull that hard though, I hate her with every fibre of my being but I’m not a malicious person like her. She would deserve worse than what I’m doing but I never want to go down to her level ever again so I let her go.

”How did you found out?” She looked pale as a ghost. I know she was scared she had every right to be because I’m sure I have that crazy look in my eyes.

”It doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that now I know what you did to him. All for what? Just to have him all to yourself? Look how that turned out for you.” The people around us fell silent that’s how I knew Jimin is here. So I took a step closer to her and smiled.

”I never cheated on him but you know this well. This is not even why I feel so angry. The reason why I want to rip your hair out right this instant is not because you spread lies and badmouthed me but because you made him a cheater.”

It’s his first time seeing me after our divorce but I’ve been seeing him these past weeks thanks to the old watch. This time around I was able to look into his eyes and see that boy I fell in love with. We went through so much together, maybe.

Maybe we can overcome this too.

©️ helenazbmrskai (Like and Reblog don’t repost!)

#jimin angst #btsghostie #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x oc #jimin #bts

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buttercupkasper · 4 years ago

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The Brothers reacting to an MC with Anger Issues.

because i have a thing against mcs being too nice and perfect, so here.

have an mc who has anger issues +reckless way of speaking but still cares about the brothers but is kinda scary when showing it.

[Brothers are not in order of age but of relevance]

(No pronouns are used but the MC is gender neutral]

Satan

His first introduction to you was watching you yell at Lucifer, so needless to say, it was love at first sight. Well, maybe not that much but he did like the fact that you weren’t scared to speak your mind on things like that.

When he realised it was more than you just having a sharp tongue, he sympathised a bit. As the avatar of wrath, he had his fair share of angry moments, maybe a bit more than others, but he was good at keeping it under wraps.

At first he didn’t bother too much cause it was funny watching Lucifer’s face turn red when you yelled back at him, but after getting a bit closer and realising how not having control over your emotions wasn’t something you liked and let up.

You both bonded on those feelings and Satan discussed ways for you to be able to control it better. He’d do breathing exercises with you during an episode. And whenever you blew up, he was the one to react the best, allowing you to get whatever feelings you need out or being the one to say the best things to calm you down.

Whether your relationship be romantic or platonic, sometimes you’d find calm in rushing to Satan while he’s reading and burying your face in his chest. He probably wouldn’t question it too much and either let you rant or just let you calm down with him.

Out of all the brothers, you two would probably be the closest.

Leviathan

“WOOOAHHHHH!”

First introduction to him, his first thought was to avoid you.

Not only are you a total normie, but you’re also very loud and scary. Most likely, you’ll probably bully him.

So, he’s ultimately surprised when you come to his door expressing interest in an anime he liked. Sometimes your episodes used to scare him a lot, but after beating you at a couple of games, he gets used to it kinda. It still makes him jump when you blow up over small things and you have a weird yelling way of encouraging him whenever he gets down on himself.

He realises that despite your anger issues, you’re actually pretty nice past the yelling. He may ask Satan how he could help with your episodes and suggest calmer games to play whenever you need a breather from things.

His happiness in having a friend, overwrites any fear he had over you.

Lucifer

His first introduction to you wasn’t the best. You weren’t exactly happy being flung into this situation and immediately berated anyone closest to you. Though that happened to be Diavalo, Lucifer wasn’t happy to say the least.

Even after finding out from your files that you had more underlying issues with it, he still kept firm with his resolve when you joined their household. You both butted heads quite a bit and he wondered Diavalo would be upset if he allowed you to be eaten by lower level demons.

It took awhile for him to see past your anger, but when he sees how you care about the rest of the brothers, he will attempt to make amends. He learns to appreciate Satan a bit more when he realises how your slightly more tamed mood is because of him.

Though it does take a bit of butting heads for you to see eye to eye, you both come to common ground over your affection for the other brothers. You tend to give Lucifer a more honest output on things. The yelling does get annoying sometimes but he knows it isn’t your fault.

Asmodeus

(Half-joking, half-not, but I feel like Asmo would be the type of person to be like, I CAN FIX THEM, whenever mc gets upset)

His first reaction to you was intrigue.

Curse his dirty mind for getting weirdly turned on by this. That was the first thing going through his mind but after rejecting his sexual advances and showing a more soft side to you.

Of course this does get misconstrewed when he thinks he can be like those Netflix protagnist who can control the big amgry beast but that backfired and ended with him getting scared and avoiding the MC for a bit and the MC showing up to his room apologising.

Asmodeus does interact with you but he still wary not to push your buttons too much. He sees that you’re sweet but he’s not quite sure how to interact with you that well but he sure as hell tries his hardest.

His way of trying to calm you down is with pampering. “It always gives me peace of mind knowing my skin is clear and flawless!” It’s probably not the first thing you’d expect but ranting while having drinks and taking a rose bath with a face mask on did distract you for awhile.

He tries. He really does.

Beelzebub

“Oh.. Yeah, no thanks.”

Beel strikes me as a person who doesn’t enjoy unnecessary conflict. He at first thinks that’s all you do but it isn’t until a few choice encounters he sees there is more to the eye.

One way he thinks to help your mood is working out. Though you can’t keep up with Beel’s stamina, excerise does help get your frustration out in a healthy way. It does get stressful whenever you get upset since he’s unsure on how to deal with it.

He’s a big boy as well so I just imagine if you were to ever try to pick a fight with anyone he would just pick you up and walk away.

Mammon

You didn’t take well to Mammon openly complaining about how upsetting it was to keep an eye on you, so you simply lashed out at him in response. This created a large shift in your relationship at first and things got slightly worse when you went into a pact with him. Then you snapped at Lucifer for calling Mammon worthless and he rethought things.

Mammon does have to watch what he says around you at first but you soon grow used to his.. unique way of showing his affection. When the two of you made peace, Mammon was someone you yelled the most for since literally everyone in the house calls him worthless and if you think this MC is going to take that sitting you’re wrong--

He’s not very good at calming you down at first and relies more on Satan (nearly everyone does at this point) to help with that. He’d probably learn a couple things from Satan to help after awhile since he doesn’t like feeling incompetent. He is protective so he wouldn’t be the happiest with you getting into fights, insisting it’s his job to protect you.

Belphegor

I love Belphegor with all my soul but I don’t know how the MC would take to being attempted murdered.

Belphie’s first introduction to you really made him question whether or not he was willing to ask a human for help because you were ready to march downstairs and yell at Lucifer for keeping one of his brothers trapped in an attic, what the fuck, Lucifer--

But he managed to persuade you against it, insisting that would only make things worse.

After the whole Belphie trying to murder you arc, he doesn’t really know how to act around you and it takes you awhile to be able to properly be around him without getting upset but you manage. He had a thing for pushing your buttons since he’s one of the brothers that are the least scared of you on first impression (the only others being Lucifer and Satan) at first but he does let up after awhile when he realises you’re a member of the ‘Fuck Lucifer Club’ along with Satan.

You’re not as passionate as they are but the thought is still there.

Belphegor’s method of calming you down is very lazy and just involves snuggling and sleeping. It was just him suggesting you needed a nap and you complying just cause but after doing it for so long, Belphie discovers that you’re really cosy so now you’re a pillow.

#obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me mc #obey me male mc #obey me gender neutral mc

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mushyjellybeans · 5 years ago

Text

Captivated 1 (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x college!student!reader (Enemies to Lovers AU)

Summary: You’re studying to become a librarian, you love your life but you despise your brat of a roommate, and the feeling is mutual.

Warnings: Language, Bucky is a jerk, mentions of masturbation, Bucky gets lucky with a girl in his room, kinda smutty but sfw and a smidging of angst?

Word Count: 1,276

A/N: Ahhhh here is part 1/15 of my new WIP series!! It was given to me by @valkyriesryde and she’s been extremely helpful with her visions for this!! I hope I do this series some justice, thank you again babe for giving it to me <3 A/N #2: I just wanna make it clear that Bucky does not have his metal arm in this series.

Masterlist

Sitting snugly on your soft couch with your legs crisscrossed and your notepad resting on one of your legs, jotting down some ideas for your side hobby of fanfiction writing to do later. You had finished an assignment just an hour ago and now you couldn't wait to relax.

And you had to laugh at your luck. Your roommate was also home, sitting beside you slumped on his side of the couch, his left elbow resting on the arm of the couch and his legs swaying back and forth gazing at the TV in front of him and texting someone on his phone. He became bothersome and started flicking the pips from the apple he had just eaten at you, some getting caught in your hair.

"Would you stop that?!" You seethe, tossing a scrunched up piece of paper at your annoying roommate, the paper hitting him on the side of his head.

"Fuckin' make me ya useless shit." He spits back, deliberately swinging his arm so he could knock the pen out of your hand.

"You're the most incredibly irritating person on the fucking planet!" You spat back at him, leaning over to pick up your pen.

"Ditto babe." he taunted, swaggering over to the refrigerator. You scowled at the pet name opting to not give him the fulfillment of him provoking you as he does daily.

You had to have been the most unfortunate person in the world. You were stuck with having the notorious ladies man known as James 'Bucky' Barnes as your roommate in your two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

You would have happily settled for anyone but Bucky, even a person who wouldn't stop chatting would be favorable.

You were a college student and you wanted to become a librarian, and though it seemed easy enough, having these diplomas would help find you work a lot quicker and easier than without. The assignments and other things you had to do was insane but you knew it would be worth it in the end when you secure employment.

Bucky, on the other hand, was kinda lazy and sort of searching for a job. He had no such luck but you were convinced he wasn't actively looking for a job. He was too comfortable in his daily routine; which was often lazing on the couch watching a reality TV show with his hands shoved down the front of his pants. Something you often caught him doing, and he had no shame, he would continue pleasuring himself in front of you, and it disgusted you since he would intentionally touch you in some way with the same hand.

As you probably guessed right now, you and Bucky did not get along. You detested each other. You had lost count how many arguments you had in a week, though your fights never turned physical, Bucky would never dream of hitting you physically, instead, he chose to hurt you mentally. You shouldn't be living together but neither of you was willing to move out.

"Who are ya writing about anyway? Some other poor bastard a fuckin' pathetic loser like you have no chance of getting?" Bucky snorted, pouring himself a drink on the kitchen island.

And this is what you meant with 'he chose to do it mentally', constantly reminding you of how worthless and useless you were to the world.

With a huff, you slammed your notebook shut and stood up. Flipping him off and going to your bedroom, before you shut your door you heard him bark out an obnoxious laugh, with a tut you slam the door harder than intended, shaking the doorframe slightly.

"Stop banging the fuckin' doors!" Bucky yells as you hear a glass of something being slammed down on a table in the living room.

Bucky slumped back down on the couch after you had left. A knock echoed through the apartment.

"She chose a fuckin' good time to leave." he murmured under his breath, swinging the door open and there stood Dolores.

"Hey there babe." he grinned, inviting her in for a warm hug. “Hey Bucky!” The lights bounced off her perfect white teeth. Bucky grinned, taking her hand in his and leading her to his bedroom. He had the perfect plan up his sleeve.

You chose to ignore the sounds in the living room and turned on your fairy lights that are dangling on the wall above your bed creating a warm cozy feeling, propping some cushions behind you and taking your phone off charge, dialing in your best friend's number. He picks up after a few rings.

"Hey, you!" He cheerfully says through the phone, a smile lighting up your dispirited mood.

"Hey, Sam! How's it going?" The two of you were close, like brother and sister. He understood your predicament with your roommate and he honestly never liked the guy either.

You and Sam would talk for hours, you're currently helping him get the girl of his dreams. He's been crushing on a girl in your class - Katherine - you think her name is, but Sam is shy and enlisted you to help him. It was a good distraction until you started hearing loud moans coming from Bucky's bedroom.

"Oh, fucking great." you cursed out loud, banging your head against your wooden headboard.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, snapping out of his daydream of Katherine.

"My dumbass roommate is getting laid."

You hear Sam laugh through the phone. "Just put some headphones on with some music, you're gonna be alright Y/N!" Sam continues laughing, knowing full well you haven't had a boyfriend in forever.

You decide to take Sam's advice and hang up the phone. The moans getting louder and you believe Bucky is doing it on purpose. You also believe he's intentionally banging his bed against your wall to get a heated rise out of you.

With a groan you put your headphones on and shuffle your playlist, turning it up on full volume, but even with the headphones you could still hear every little thing that was happening on the other side. You groaned in frustration, ripping your headphones out and instead sandwiching yourself between your pillows.

Bucky’s plan worked perfectly. The walls were thin and he could hear your continous groans on the other side, it only encouraged him further, biting down on Dolores neck to make her scream out in ectasy.

The next morning was quiet as you walked out of your bedroom in your robe, noticing the lack of appearance from your roommate immediately. He isn't seated where he normally is at this time of the morning.

You did hear Dolores and Bucky leave the apartment late last night after their 3 hour-long bedroom activities but even so, he was always back the next morning, and no matter how much he hated you, he did always prepare your favorite cereals.

"Bucky?" You called out, silently hoping he wasn’t here but also hoping he was, listening intently to any sounds of the mysteriously vanished roommate.

Your phone started to buzz in your robe pocket, you pulled it out and looked at the unknown number suspiciously.

"Hello?"

"Oh hi, is this Y/N Y/L/N?" A woman's voice asked on the other end. The fact she said your full name made you on edge.

"Uhh yeah, this is she. Who is this?" You take a seat on the chair behind you.

"I'm doctor Romanoff and I have a James Barnes in my ward. You were his emergency contact. I'm afraid to inform you, Miss, that Mr. Barnes was involved in a minor road traffic accident. He has broken his left arm and a couple of his ribs is broken. If you are visiting him I would be happy to go over everything else with you too."

You were too shocked to speak. So many things said at once, why were you, the one person Bucky couldn't stand breathing the same air around, was his emergency contact?

"Miss? Hello?" Doctor Romanoff spoke on the other end.

You cleared your throat before speaking.

"Uhhh.." Just as you started to speak, you heard a blood-curdling scream in the background. Doctor Romanoff quickly excused herself and hung up.

The call ended and you stared out in front of you. It was no question you had to go and see him.

Permanent Taglist: @morsmordrethings @stuckonjbbarnes @sebbbystaaan @valkyriesryde @chloerinebarnes @mypassionsarenysins @honeyvbarnes @stateoflovinged @tuesdays-are-for-bobby @photography-to-all @dark-night-sky-99 @veganfangirl5 @infj-slytherclaw @imma-new-soul @hailqueenconquer @mood-pancakes @seb-be-holding-these-tatas @seb-owns-these-tatas @margoshanotherwriter @iheartsebastianstan @lovvliies @buckysdumbmetalarm @livylou3333 @marvelsangels @donnaintx @crushedbyhyperbole @teamcap4bucky @zeilenkrieg Tagging some other amazing sisters: @babiiface95 @perpetually-tuned-out @pinnedandneedled @captain-kelli @captainchrisstan @capandbuckylvr @simsadventures @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @smutsonian @sebastiansloserclub @buckythewhitewolfx @this-kitten-is-smitten @babblingbonky @a-mess-of-fandoms @hey-its-grey

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melodiouswhite · 5 years ago

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Memories of Suffering

(A/N: This is a fic about my Jekyll’s terrible childhood, so trigger warnings: tw: horrific child abuse, tw: terrible parenting, tw: blood, tw: graphic depiction of violence. I’m serious, if you’re a minor and/or this triggers something for you, then don’t read it, because this one is really dark.)

Jekyll feared the worst, when he came to his therapy session and saw Lady Summers' grave expression.

“Don't worry, nothing bad happened”, she assured him. “Nevertheless, we need to talk about something extremely unpleasant today.”

He sighed: “What part in the story of my life will it be today?”

“Your childhood, Doctor.”

Damn right that's extremely unpleasant!

Lady Summers sighed: “Doctor Jekyll, you knew that it was inevitable for me to bring it up sooner or later.”

“I know, I know. But … but it's so hard to even think about it.”

The Prussian's face was sad. “I know. And I understand. But if you talk about it and get it off your chest, it could help you get closure.”

He wanted to talk about it.

He didn't want to talk about it.

He wanted to pour his heart out to her.

He wanted to keep it in, ignore it and never think about it again.

She noticed his affliction and took his hand, gently stroking the palm with her thumb.

“It's alright. If you're not ready to talk about it right now, I'm giving you a few weeks. If you want Mr. Utterson and Dr. Lanyon to be there for support, I will let them know.”

“Thank you, Milady”, he replied warmly. “But … I think …”

“You want to do it now?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure?”, she queried.

Another nod.

“Dr. Jekyll, if you don't feel ready, you shouldn't push yourself to speak about it”, she warned.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No. I want to get it over with. Get the worst parts about it off my chest.”

“Really? Are you certain that it won't be too painful now?”

He nodded again.

Lady Summers looked very doubtful (and rightfully so, he knew that), but she respected his decision.

“Alright”, she spoke. “Go on, then.”

Jekyll took a deep breath and began to talk.

Not good enough.

He was never good enough.

His character wasn't good enough.

His behaviour wasn't good enough.

His grades weren't good enough.

His art wasn't good enough.

His piano play, dancing and singing weren't good enough.

His Latin wasn't good enough.

Nothing was good enough.

And if he wasn't good enough, he would be punished.

Even if he hadn't done anything wrong.

Wait, no.

He always did something wrong.

Why else would they hate him so?

This time it was because of a photograph.

His father was not pleased with how he had looked in it.

But just posing for the picture had been a torture for the seven-year-old.

He had tried to look as innocent as possible and pretend not to be in pain.

For a while, things had been surprisingly peaceful, until the photographer had shown them the developed daguerrotype.

His father was looking at the viewer like a poster picture gentleman, while his mother was looking down at her son with wide eyes and he himself was looking at the photographer with an earnestly innocent expression, trying to mask his pain.

James Jekyll had punished both his wife and son.

His wife for the nasty grimace that didn't look at all like a perfect wife and mother was supposed to look like.

His son for “not looking childish and innocent enough”. And for the shivering. He had shivered from fear and pain, because both of his parents had nearly squelched his shoulders.

But trembling wasn't allowed.

Half an hour later Henry's nanny was tending to his bloodied back, while he was crying and whimpering into the pillow.

His father never stopped beating him until his back bled.

“Monsters!”, the elderly woman hissed, “Someone should lock them away and throw away the key!”

But no one would dare to arrest his parents, because they were good and always right, no one would believe him.

For the next weeks he was unable to lie on his back.

Of course his father would slap his sore back, just to hurt him.

But that was fine, because it was normal and he deserved it anyway.

Henry tried not to scream, when his mother pulled him out from under his bed.

But it hurt so much and so he couldn't help but wail, as she pulled him to his feet by the hair.

“YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE BRAT!!!”, she screamed, “YOU SINFUL CREATURE! YOU LOWLY SINNER!”

“I'm sorry, Mama”, he sobbed, not knowing what he was apologising for, “I'll never do it again-”

“SILENCE, YOU DEMON!!!”

She struck him across the face.

“YOUR FATHER TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED UP WITHIN TEN MINUTES EARLIER AND HOW LONG DID YOU NEED?! TWELVE!!!”

“I-I'm sorry, Mama-”

She struck him again.

That was all she ever did, when they weren't in public.

Strike him, pull his hair, scream and throw things at him, lock him into the cellar … just like his father.

“TWELVE MINUTES!!! THAT JUST SHOWS WHAT A TERRIBLE CHILD YOU ARE! WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE A BRAT LIKE YOU?! YOU SPAWN OF SATAN! YOU SPAWN OF POSSESSION! YOU LAZY, DISOBEDIENT, UNRELIABLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING-”

Someone clearing his throat distracted her.

Arthur Poole was standing in the door, frowning at the scene.

“Your husband is asking for you, Madam”, the butler informed her calmly.

Clara Jekyll huffed, let her son go and stormed out of the nursery.

Henry, now free from his mother's cruel grip, sank to his knees and cried.

Poole took the child in his arms and stroked his head soothingly.

“What a monster”, the man muttered, “Abusing a ten-year-old child like that. You poor, dear boy. You deserve better than this.”

Henry wanted to believe him, he really did.

But he couldn't.

Not when his parents were right and let him know it almost every day.

He was scum and he deserved everything he got.

Sometime later his mother had called him to the parlour and he had already readied himself for a world of hurt.

But when he got there, his mother's face was murderous.

“A little birdie told me that you don't respect the sanctity of marriage”, she snarled and he saw her hand wander to a huge book on the table.

“Is that true, you spawn of Satan? YOU SPAWN OF POSSESSION?!”

“No, Mama-”

“IT IS TRUE!!! I KNEW IT!!! OH, YOU SHOULD BE EXORCISED! IF I COULD I WOULD BANISH YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL!!! BEGONE, SATAN!!!”

Then she threw the book at him.

Henry dodged it and ran for his life, before she could abuse him some more.

When Henry found out that he had … unnatural, sinful desires, his first impulse was to kill himself.

He didn't know how it had happened, but one day he realised that his feelings for his two best friends weren't normal.

Why the hell did he look at them and wanted to do inappropriate things with them?! Why did he want to touch them, kiss them, love them, court them … share his bed with them?!

That was disgusting!

Utterson and Lanyon were his friends and all three of them were boys!

So why the hell was he having these disgusting, sinful desires?!

But he wouldn't give into them.

He would NOT give into them!

When he was sixteen, his parents found out that he had lost his purity a few months earlier.

Their reaction was even worse than he had anticipated.

His mother had screamed at him for hours and slapped him until his cheeks were nearly bleeding.

That was normal so far.

But his father had given him the worst beating of his lifetime, had punched and kicked him in every spot that wasn't his face, until he was lying on the floor, whimpering in pain and spitting blood.

At this point he rarely even heard the terrible things his parents were saying.

But that wasn't even the worst.

He had been bedridden for a week and just begun to get better, when his infuriated mother had dragged him out of bed and into her own room.

At first he had been confused what he was supposed to do here, but then she threw some of her own clothes at him.

“PUT THEM ON, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE WHORE!!!”, she yelled, “SO THAT EVERYONE CAN SEE WHAT A DISGRACEFUL SLUT YOU ARE, LUSTING AFTER WOMEN AND MEN!!! DO IT, YOU DEMON!!!”

He froze in horror.

Then he fell onto his knees and begged: “No! Please, no! Mother, please, don't-”

“DON'T CALL ME MOTHER!!! AN IMMORAL DEMON LIKE YOU ISN'T MY SON!!!”, she shrieked and struck him twice.

Then he had been forced into his mother's evening dress.

The dress was ugly, hardly fit him, the corset was laced so tightly that he could hardly breathe, his mother's shoes were too small for him and he was still sore and in pain from the beating a week earlier.

And that was only a part of the torture.

After breakfast, where his father had just looked at him in disgust, they had paraded him around the small town that was their home.

Had shown him around in a dress so everyone could mock him and laugh at him.

Then they had dragged him home and he had received another vicious beating.

And all of this, just because he wasn't a virgin anymore.

Jekyll stopped.

He couldn't go on any further.

Partly because talking about these memories was becoming too painful, but mainly because he was currently crouched on the floor with Lady Summers, sobbing hysterically into her lap and unable to talk at all.

He felt so dirty and worthless, just when he thought about it all.

He could feel the bruises and the wounds inflicted on his body, hear his mother's furious shrieking, see his father's cruel gaze-

Lady Summers was gently petting his head and back and cooing words of comfort in both English and German.

Lying curled up on the carpet and crying into a noblewoman's black skirt would have been beyond humiliating, if it hadn't been her.

With this lady, it was fine.

Jekyll wasn't quite sure how long he had been crying, before it occurred to him that maybe he should stop and leave, before her next client came.

“Don't worry”, the Prussian assured him, “You're my last client for the afternoon. Cry all you want.”

Her voice sounded strangely hoarse and when he looked up, he was surprised to find that she was crying with him.

“Now that was one hell you went through, wasn't it, Doctor?”, she asked sadly. She cupped his cheek with one tiny hand and stroked it gently, wiping the tears away.

“Oh, my poor, dear friend. Listen, Dr. Jekyll”, she spoke gently, “No matter what your parents told you, you deserved none of this.”

“But … I really am-”

“No. No child deserves to be treated like this, especially not by their parents. And nothing of what they told you is true, never was. You were not a bad child. They were just horrible parents – scratch that, they don't even deserve to be called parents. Parents are supposed to be loving, encouraging and nurturing, not barbarous and abusive like yours. They should have gone to prison for what they did to you.”

“But I'm still a horrible son!”, he sobbed, “Right after my father died … I put my mother into the Bethlem Hospital and told everyone that she had gone mad from grief! She's still there and I never even went to visit her, I-”

Lady Summers raised an eyebrow. “Hush. That doesn't make you a bad son. After her behaviour and all the terrible things she and your father did to you, it was a perfectly human and reasonable thing to do. And I do not say this lightly.”

She continued stroking his cheek and rubbing his shoulders.

Jekyll leaned into her touch. It was so warm and caring.

He wanted more, he needed more, he needed the Lady's mellow lisp to banish his mother's screeching from his head, needed her gentle hands to make him forget his parents' brutal strikes and kicks, needed her tender words to erase his parents' cruel tirades of hatred.

Please give me more, I need more, please give me the motherly warmth I have never known, help me, be there for me, hug me, hold me, dry away my tears, tell me that everything will be fine, pet my chest and my back until I can breathe, please give me warmth, pet my head and stroke my hair, treat me like I'm precious, like I deserve to be cared for by you and the other three, please forgive me for being so childish and needy, I don't deserve you, I'm so sorry, I know that I'm asking for too much from my friends and you're younger than me and far above me, but please, I need it-

“Shhh. It's okay”, she cooed, “You're not below me, you never were. We all ask for too much from our friends sometimes, but right here and now, you're not. Let it all out. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe here. Your parents can't hurt you anymore.”

“They can't hurt you anymore.”

For so long his logic had told him this, but it was only when Lady Summers said these words out loud, that he finally was able to believe it.

He looked up to her with a smile. “Thank you”, he croaked. “Thank you so much.”

She smiled back fondly. “Hey now. That's what I do, isn't it?”

“No, seriously. You're … I don't know what I have done to deserve someone like you. Have I ever told you what a wonderful friend you are?”

The tiny Prussian chuckled: “No, Dr. Jekyll. But you can tell me as often as you like.”

“Well, you are. You're an amazing friend. And … thank you for humouring me and Hyde on this. I promise, this is not going to become a habit. I don't see you as a motherly figure, but-”

“I know. And it doesn't matter. It's fine”, she interrupted him gently. “Everything is fine.”

Jekyll leaned into the hand that was running its fingers through his hair. Suddenly, exhaustion settled in with a vengeance.

“I'm so tired …”

“Then sleep”, she cooed. “That couch over there is big enough for you.”

The two stood with some effort (Jekyll helped the Lady up) and she led him over to the couch.

He lay down and covered himself with the blanket.

Then he thought of something.

It was embarrassing to ask – he was fifty years old, not five!

But …

“Of course I will sing that song for you”, Lady Summers laughed kindly.

She sat next to him, took his hand and began to sing softly:

“Guten Abend, gut' Nacht!

Mit Rosen bedacht,

mit Näglein besteckt,

schlupf unter die Deck'!

Morgen früh, wennn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt,

Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt.

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht!

Von Englein bewacht,

die zeigen im Traum

dir Christkindleins Baum.

Schlaf nun selig und süß,

schau im Traum 's Paradies.

Schlaf nun selig und süß,

schau im Traum 's Paradies.“

By the time she was finished, he was sleeping soundly and peacefully.

She sang the song once more, then went upstairs to make a phone call. She had to tell Mr. Utterson to pick up his lover later, after all.

When the black-haired lawyer came to pick his blond lover up, he found him still sleeping on the couch.

Utterson's eyes softened immediately.

“Milady”, he whispered, “I'm afraid I can't find it in my heart to wake him up.”

“Well, I'm not waking him up either”, she whispered back. “You're his sweetheart, you wake him up.”

“No, you wake him up!”

“No, you!”

And this whispered argument continued until the Doctor woke up by himself.

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #utterson #Mr Utterson #Gabriel John Utterson #oc #platonic friendship #tw: child abuse #tw: graphic depiction of violence #tw: blood #tw: domestic violence #tw: violence towards children #tw: terrible parenting #tw: internalised homophobia #tw: forced crossdressing

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believerindaydreams · 6 years ago

Text

in which we are introduced to a paradoxical lady

further adventures on the chicken fetch quest. leaves off on a cliffhanger, cos I’m debating a POV change after this

It'd be hilarious, Tuco figures, if the situation wasn't so dire. A sharpened pitchfork is a vicious enough weapon to have left quite a slash down his arm, and that's gonna hurt like hell once the adrenaline wears off.

It is hilarious. He's got a chicken stuffed down his shirtfront, and its heavy fluffiness is the only thing stopping him from doubling over with laughter; while Blondie's busily defending the pair of them with a filthy trashcan lid. The clang of metal against metal has a fine lurid ring to it, just like in the movies...

only, well, this is infinitely stupider than anything on the silver screen.

"You thieving, n'er-do-well, good for nothing tramps!"

That's her kindest statement yet; for an old lady farmer, she's got a remarkable turn for cursing. Enough to give Tuco a pleasant flashback to Brooklyn, while he’s been improvising a bandage from the tattered remnants of his jacket. Of all times not to have his pack along...

"We'll give it back!" Blondie yells it, needlessly loudly in this quiet barn. A couple of the cows moo at him. "If you'd just quit trying to kill us, we'll leave the chicken here and never bother you again!"

"Think that's good enough? I'll call in the marines on you before I'm done!"

Now, that would not be good. Somewhere outside in the dark is Angel Eyes, keeping a lookout and waiting for them, and while he'd probably be smart enough to keep out of sight- just the split-second recollection of a diner makes Tuco wince.

"Aunt Huldah...it's me. Joseph. Your worthless nephew who ran off to be a Papist, remember?"

"Go on! Tell me why that should make a blind bit of difference!"

But she stops trying to eviscerate Blondie; and Tuco figures that's some progress.

************

"All things considered," Angel Eyes says aloud (after the farmhouse door has closed upon the hapless three; he's comfortably ensconced in a tree and inclined to remain so). "All things considered, it's just as well I never did take you along on an assassination, Blondie. With smarts like that, you'd have blithely wandered right into somebody's gun sights."

The hen he's holding turns its beak up, and clucks at him inquisitively.

"A caelo usque ad centrum...o gallus, have you any notion what a comedown your theft constitutes, from a past such as mine?"

Cluck, cluck.

"No. I don't suppose you do."

************

Apparently a snowball's chance in hell isn't bad at all, when kept safely inside the confines of a timeless globe. A house, a Christmas tree, two pink-cheeked twins staring at the soap flakes with open mouths. Shake the globe or not, they'll just keep gaping forever.

The small tacky horror stands out incongruously in this austere room, otherwise all hard wood and ruthlessly practical knitting. Probably why his heart's gone out to it. Poor thing doesn't belong here any more than he does.

"Do stop playing with that," Aunt Huldah says. "It's a family heirloom. That's antique Bakelite, Joseph's father brought it back from the Great Lakes Exposition."

"Sorry," Tuco mumbles. Puts it down carefully.

"It's been nice to see you again," Blondie says.

That's not a hustle, that's not anything but a simple barefaced lie. Blondie's holding his yellow china cup almost sideways, like he's forgotten what it's for; maybe hoping that a lapful of cold coffee will wake him up. Cristo, this is enough like a nightmare that'd make sense.

Three hours it's been, by his watch- who knows what Angel Eyes thought was happening, while freezing outside- and three quarters of that has been spent in silence. No radio or television or even talking. Nothing moving, only being, only two relations communing with each other while the quiet is so loud it's deafening.

"Joseph," the woman says. Her parched and weathered face shuddering a little in the attempt to smile. "It's so good to have you home again like this."

Okay, so a lie that passed muster. He should know better than to guess he has a handle on this situation- damn his arm. It itches.

"Shame about uncle."

Blondie's said that already. Twice, in fact; and that seems both not enough for the man who brought him up and yet so much needless repetition. The words ring in his head meaninglessly, and he listens until they lose all meaning; it sounds something at least like his partner in crime. Like a way out of here.

If this room was frightening, he'd feel so much better; he's used to fear, he has ways and means of coping with that. This stiffness, on some level it has to be a kind of love, and that unnerves him far more than the woman who stabbed and cussed him out.

"Oh, it was."

"I should have been at the funeral."

"Yup."

They've just repeated a whole conversation they already had. Why couldn't it be Angel here to drink sugarless instant coffee, instead? Or he should have just been himself from the start, should have been loud and boisterous instead of waiting for Blondie to give him a cue. His partner's given him nothing all evening, he’s got nothing to work with.

The itch in his arm is crazy, maddening. Tuco leans forward to put his cup down, uneasily conscious of the eyes following his every slightest motion. In this constricted universe, one lonely half-circle of lamplight, there's nothing else for them to consider.

So when he notices that the impromptu bandage is failing, dark liquid leaking from him in lazy slow driblets, he knows with frightful confidence that the two of them have observed it also; and can't understand why they don't act. Poor hospitality, that's understandable if inexcusable, but this is different.

Breathe.

Don't wonder, he tells himself. Don't think what will happen if you collapse against this knit throw, too weak to move.

(would they watch and sip coffee, until he bled out as white as they? stay here forever in unmoored indifference?)

(has he lost more blood than he's realised, to be nursing a fantasy that idiotic?)

Damn it, damn it. If he can't trust his instincts or his partner, sheer cussedness is going to have to pull him through. "Is there a- you know?"

Waves indistinctly. The syllables sound like an imposition.

"Down the hall to the right," Blondie says tonelessly.

"Thanks..."

The bathroom window is wide open; Tuco’s closed it tight before realising it's probably meant to be that way. Never mind. He could do with some warmth before stripping his shoulder bare.

Messy. Shallow, though; he sets his teeth and cleans it out with rubbing alcohol, wraps it up tightly with cloths from the linen cupboard. Too bad if Blondie's aunt doesn't like it. She shouldn't have run him through in the first place.

Away from that winter room, his good sense is already starting to restore itself; he'd been right the first time, thinking he'd be okay. He will be. As soon as they get out of here.

There's a knock on the door.

"Out in a minute!" Must be the aunt. Blondie would have just walked in.

He runs the tap a little, cups his hands and drinks; tastes fresh on his tongue, good after that musty coffee. Dries them crudely on his pants, feels better.

Blondie all but falls on him, the moment he opens the door: limp and nerveless. "Tuco. Are you okay?"

"Be a lot better without your weight on me." He can’t muster up much anger for the quip; it’s too good to feel his partner's body against his. Tobacco and incense mixed, half-forgotten need making itself manifest again. Comfort as condolence.

"I'm sorry." Grotesquely sincere, banal even. "She wants us to stay for dinner. We should get out of here. Go back to Angel, tell him what's going on-"

"Gilipollas."

"...I'm a what?"

"You know what that one means, Blondie, I've told you. You know what? You don't get to run out on your family just because you don't like them, I'm not going to let you leave this time." It's something he's never felt free to say, how incomprehensible and cruel he finds Blondie's lackadaisical attitude towards his family; he's always kept in touch with his, even if they haven't always seen each other much.

"She's not like- your family. Tuco, she isn't."

"Tough. She wants you to stay for dinner, we're staying for dinner. It’s the least you can do for a lonely old woman like that."

"But what about Angel?"

"Dollars to doughnuts," Tuco says, pulling what's left of his jacket back on, "that Angel knew already whose farm this was and went home early when we didn’t leave. You know what he's like about planning ahead, you think he didn't put two and two together to figure out why you insisted on stealing from here in particular?"

"...I was thinking, maybe, it wouldn't count as stealing if it was my own family farm."

"The way you've described her soups, I think we're more than paying for it."

#70s au #the good the bad and the ugly

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returnedmemories · 6 years ago

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Somehow this post turned into my life story

This past month I've been able to call my kids every Sunday night. Im thrilled. The new medication I've been on has abled me to to feel things and be less depressed . I cant believe Im finally doing well enough and that I have earned enough trust with their guardians. I feel less disconnected from my kids. The calls dont usually last long, but I now get to hear about what they have done during the week, and whats happening in their lives.

Before I saw them only a few hours once every 3 months. Inbetween visits, I worried about them every day. Were they happy? Are they doing ok? Are they getting enough love? How are they handling all of the trauma they have been through? Did they miss me? Did they cry alone, struggling with their emotions? Or were they so shut down that they were barley living?

They have both come so far. I know my oldest is most likely going to struggle most of her life. Its hard to over come trauma. I know. Its a daily struggle not to relive the past over and over again. And living with depression can literally suck the life out of you. I hope she can heal. I hope she doesnt make the mistakes i made.

Being abused and rejected by my dad, and knowing my mom couldnt or wouldnt protect me left me feeling worthless. I was alone with a monster and I couldnt protect myself. Being told over and over again that I was stupid, fat, lazy, and worthless. Having my dad raging and yelling, being told that he HATED me.

I became a shell of a person. I was empty. I hated myself so much. I was eventually sucked down a dark hole of depression that I couldnt escape. I became suicidal by the time I was 11. All I wanted to do was cut open my skin and climb out of my own body. I wanted the pain to stop. But it didnt. It got worse. I was afraid to go home after school. Home wasnt a safe place. Not when HE was there. At home we walked around on egg shells hoping he would leave us alone. But there was always something. Always. I cant tell you how many times he kicked me out of the house. And when that happened my mom wouldnt know what to do or where to take me. It hurt me so much, my mom didnt stand up to him. She always said she just wanted everything to be okay, but really by doing nothing she was choosing him over me.

By the time I was 13 I discovered a way to distract myself from the pain that consumed me. Cutting. When I cut myself on the outside I could focus on that pain, and it momentarily relieved me of all the hurt inside. I tried to hide it at first. Then I stopped caring. My mom found out, she was understanding. But when my dad found out, I was assaulted with his rage and hate. I already hurt so much that most days I thought about ending my life. And what does my dad say to me? "Your not my fucking kid. Why dont you just go shoot yourself in the head witn a gun". I'll never forget that moment. I'll never forget those words. They destroyed me. Im grateful now that my mom made my dad get rid of the gun he had brought into the house. I wouldnt be here now if she hadnt. I would have done it. My entire life had become nothing but fear, depression, and self hatred. Life wasnt worth living.

I was 14 by the time I had become full blown anorexic. It was the one thing I could control. I also began going for long walks. I was 100% convinced that I was fat. Maybe I would have had this problem anyway, but I believe having my dad tell me I was fat and lazy my entire life had something to do with it.

I just stopped eating. And On top of not eating, I would take laxatives, and I would take epicac AND I would intentionally give myself food poisoning. All so my body would eject anything that might still be in my body. Im lucky I didnt end up in the hospital. I felt weak, and dizzy. There were times I fainted, or suddenly felt like the room was spinning. But I was in control. And it became normal. Not eating. Whenever someone offered me food, my immediate instinct was that I was being threatened and it was time to flee.

But of course, (even though I was never fat), no matter how thin I got, I still thought I was fat. I thought I was disgusting, and Unworthy. No one loved me. And I had no one to protect me. I wanted out! I began thinking if only I didnt have to live with my dad, that I could be safe and happy. I couldnt wait to turn 18. I couldnt wait to be out of his grip. I would turn 18 and he wouldnt own me anymore. I was so stupid.

Life became even harder when I began having PTSD episodes. Even when I was away from my dad, at school, I couldnt escape him. I began re- living times he hurt me. And his voice became my inner voice. All day I could hear him whispering, "your stupid, fat, lazy, worthless, I hate you, why dont you just go shoot yourself in the head with a gun?" Always in the same order, on a loop, repeating over and over again. I was in my own personal hell. Trapped. Miserable. Suicidal. Why couldnt I be like all of the other kids? I didnt understand why this was happening to me.

I was in highschool now. All of my middle school friends were seperated from me, and I began struggling in school. Highschool was much bigger, with alot of students that I didnt know. I began having severe anxiety and panic attacks. I spent alot of time in the schools councelors office either bawling, hyperventilating, or so shut down and disociated that I couldnt speak. I was trapped in my head, reliving trauma, and hearing my new inner voice(thanks dad): "your stupid, fat, lazy, worthless, I hate you, why dont you just go shoot yourself in the head with a gun?"

Most school days I left early. I couldnt handle being around so many people. Inside my world was falling apart. I felt so alone, so empty. I couldnt cope.

I was 15 when I began trying to get help. I packed a bag after one of my dads abusive raging throughout the house. He kept instilling fear into me, and kicking me out of the house (for no reason. It was a way for him to control me) He expected me to go somewhere and wait several hours until his anger had settled, then come back. If I didnt come back right when he decided he wanted me back he would threaten to call the police and report me as a runaway. AFTER HE KICKED ME OUT!!! So this time I fought back. I went to two different shelters. One was called Simonka Place. It was a shelter for women and children. I was there for a while, but I was still in the middle of a mental health crisis. I had a panic attack/ptsd episode/dissociative state and was sent to the hospital because staff was worried I may have overdosed on something. I tried to tell the doctors I had not taken anything, but I was a kid, and they didnt believe me. My hands and feet were in restraints and they forced a tube down my throat and into my stomache where they pumped me full of charcoal. They said if I took anything I would throw it up.

I didnt throw up. I didnt take anything!

When I got back to Simonka house they said I couldnt stay, because they werent equipt to handle my problems. I was upset and angry at the time, but looking back, they were right. I was a very messed up child who needed more help then they could provide.

The next day I went to the host program. It was a shelter for teenagers that provided family counseling.

I left the very next day. They said I had to eat breakfast, it was part of the program. That wasnt going to happen. Food was the one thing I had control of. So my fight or flight instincts kicked in and I ran. (In hindsight, looking back I can see where I was prob having manic episodes. I didnt find out until I was 21, but I have bipolar disorder, along with depression, anxiety, ptsd, and dissociation disorder)

I dont know how this post became my life story, but whoo! It feels good to get this shit out! Im going to end this now, but I definitely want to continue this.

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winchester-wannabe99 · 7 years ago

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Fight me- Chapter 8

A/N: Hey guys! This is the final chapter of Fight Me and sorry it took so long to write. As always, school is heckers and I’m lazy, so writing takes ages. HUGE THANKS TO MY BETA @ladyaragorn13 . I couldn’t have done this without her and she helped a lot with writing. This chapter was basically co-written by my amazing mate Mel, so much love to her. You guys should check her out. :) Also a small disclaimer, no hate to sex workers. This chapter sounds a bit critical of them, but it’s not a reflection of my personal beliefs. Summary: Dean meets someone while fighting for money, and interesting events develop. Word count: about 2300 Warnings: violence, swearing (as always), mild gore, self-hate, brief mention of self-harm, death, mention of sex work, brief mention of drug use, general angst, mildly dickish John.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Y/N hurt all over. She tried to duck as the much larger man’s fist came towards her, but she was too slow and felt her cheek split as it connects with her already very bruised face. She was knocked onto her back and the room spun around her as she lay on the dirt of the fighting ring. She could hear the ‘umpire’ counting down, but she felt drunk. Her limbs refused to cooperate with her and her head was pounding.

She knew she wasn’t going to win this fight, knew she wasn’t going to win the money she so desperately needed. She closed her swollen and bruised eyes as she felt a single tear slip out of one and all the way down her bloodied, dirty cheek. The roar of the crowd increased as the victor was crowned and Y/N stood up slowly, hating the way the bastard smirked at her and limped towards the exit. The crowd laughed at her as she made her way through it, and she felt a cold desperation settle over her, making her stomach knot and her head throb even more intensely.

She wasn’t going to win any fights in this condition, and no right-minded shop owner was going to employ her. She pushed the rusty doors open, needing to make a plan, to figure out where to go. Y/N decided that any movement was good, as long as it was away from this place. She slowly limped down the dark alleyway before making her way to the park, trying desperately to switch her brain off as she did so.

Instead, she thought of Dean, of his beautiful smile, and life-filled eyes, and this gave her the strength she needed to get there. She reached the dark and quiet park, curling up on a picnic bench. Then Y/N realised that her only hope lay in selling herself. Her throat tightened and her eyes prickled with unshed tears. Her thoughts flashed back to memories of dark nights filled with strange men and suspicious packets being handed to her father. Memories of feeling as worthless as her father told her she was, and picking up razor blades instead of the needles her father so desperately craved.

No. She wouldn’t do that to herself, wouldn’t allow herself to become what her father had always called her. Y/N decided then and there that she’d rather starve then sell her body if only to spite the bastard she had once thought of as family. Y/N curled up even tighter and hugged herself, she accepted that life was going to be hell from now. But hadn’t it always been? Dean was one brief experience of happiness and now she was back where she started. With that thought, Y/N closed her eyes and waited for morning.

Dean was distraught. All he could think about was Y/N. She was gone and his father refused to let him find her, to protect her. John firmly believed that the girl had just run off, and it was probably for the better. He wouldn’t be forced to deal with the otherwise tricky situation. Dean tried and tried to explain to his father how much she meant to him and how she’d probably do something stupid like go to another fight club if he didn’t find her, but John was stubbornly indifferent. Even Sam tried to convince him, and at that John snapped.

“Dean, she left you. Just accept she didn’t feel the same.” John said firmly, trying not to scowl at his hurt son. Dean bit his tongue, hard. He knew getting into a fight with his father wouldn’t help the situation, but that thought didn’t stop his anger from rising. “Now, both of you stay in this room. I’m going to get a drink and you’re going to bed.” John then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Dean stood there shaking with rage as he listened to the roar of the Impala’s engine softly fading. Sam slowly approached him, and put a hand on his heaving shoulder, “Let’s go find Y/N.” Dean nodded quickly before grabbing everything they may need and following Sam out the door into the cold night.

The first place Dean thought of when searching for Y/N was the fight club. She’d be desperately low on cash and this was the only way she knew to get it. But when Dean arrived, with Sam just behind him, he could see that the fights were finished for the night. But he wasn’t about to give up. He turned to his brother, “Sam, stay here. Keep a lookout for Y/N.” Dean could see Sam was opening his mouth to argue, but he left too quickly to hear his brother’s point. He didn’t want Sam to see this place, to see how desperate Dean had been for money. He didn’t want to destroy Sam’s faith in him like that.

He walked into the crowded space and approached the unofficial umpire asking if she’d seen a girl fitting Y/N’s description. “No kid, haven’t seen your friend.” She replied between puffs of smoke. She looked Dean up and down, “But if you’re looking for some fun, I’d be happy to help.” She almost purred. Dean shook his head before moving away quickly, this didn’t mean Y/N hadn’t been here, only that the unofficial referee would rather fuck him than help him.

He glanced around, looking for someone who may be able to help. His eyes landed on a large man who was surrounded by multiple intoxicated women. Obviously, he had been the winner of the most recent fights. Dean walked up to him, “Hey man, have you seen a short kid in a too big flannel, probably one of the fighters?” The guy looked up from the closest girls cleavage and smirked at Dean, “Yeah I saw him, beat the shit out of him. Kid could barely walk when I was through with him.”

Dean’s fist had connected with the guy’s nose before he knew what was happening, and the girls were shrieking. The next thing he knew, he was getting pulled back from an enraged and bleeding dick head by Sam. “I thought I told you to stay outside,” Dean panted as they ran out of the club. Sam smiled at him, “You did, but since when have I listened to you.” Dean smiled weakly back, “Let’s go find her.”

Y/N was cold. She shivered on the hard, wooden bench she was laying on. She couldn’t feel her bare feet, and she realised that there was no point trying to sleep. “Y/N!” She sat bolt upright. It had sounded like someone was calling her name, but that couldn’t be happening. No one loved her enough to look for her. Her thoughts immediately travelled back to Dean, and she told herself to snap out of it. Dean was happy, and she wasn’t going to mess that up for him. Y/N stood up slowly, her legs shaking. She needed to find somewhere warmer, or she might die here. Y/N almost laughed when she realised she didn’t care anymore.

Dean had been looking for Y/N for nearly two hours now and could feel the panic making his stomach knot. They’d already checked the fight club and the surrounding alleyways, and he was beginning to think they wouldn’t find her. But then he remembered the park. It wasn’t far from the hotel and had enough shelter to sleep in, of course, she would go there. Dean quickened his pace, Sam doing the same. “We’re going the park, Sammy.” Was all he said until they reached the carpark across the road. As Dean was walking towards the main road of the town to cross over he saw a figure sitting on a bench in the shadows watching him. A figure wearing an overly large flannel.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, so happy to finally have found her. She began to run across the road to meet Dean and Dean used the opportunity to study her. Even in the dark lighting, he could see the bruises covering her face. Dean knew he should have broken more than that fighter’s nose. His heart swelled as she approached, with relief and an emotion he couldn’t identify.

Y/N was halfway across the road when Dean heard it. The sound of a truck, a speeding truck that hadn’t seen the small girl running across the road. Icy terror filled Dean’s heart, he opened his mouth to scream, to warn the girl that he so deeply cared for, that he loved, but it was too late.

Dean saw the moment Y/N noticed the truck, saw her hesitate, and in that moment she was doomed. Dean heard the moment the truck hit. There was a loud crack as metal met flesh and bone. “NOOO!! Y/N!!” Dean screamed as he saw her body ricochet off the truck and disappear underneath. Sam was yelling too, but he couldn’t understand what Sam was saying. His ears were ringing and his eyes blurring with tears.

The truck stopped and the driver got out, “I didn’t see her. I didn’t -” But Dean wasn’t listening to his excuses.

He ran towards Y/N’s unconscious and unmoving body on the road. He dragged her out from under the car, pulling a groan from her. Carefully moving her into his lap and cradling her in his arms, Dean tried to assess her wounds through his tear-filled eyes. There was just so much blood, he didn’t know where it was coming from. There was just so much.

He kissed her forehead murmuring to her unconscious body, trying to rouse her “Y/N? Y/N hey, wake up. You’re gonna be fine ok? I’m gonna take care of you.” He could hear the faint sound of sirens, desperately hoping they were ambulance sirens. “Sammy! SAM!” Dean yelled, and Sam ran to Dean’s side, his expression horrified and his eyes glued to the blood covering Dean, all of it Y/N’s. “What do you need me to do Dean?” Sam asked in a shaky but determined tone. Dean was trying desperately not to sob as he told Sam what to do, “Call 911. Call Dad. I don’t fucking care! Just get someone here to help her!!” Dean kept murmuring reassurances while Sam pulled out his phone and began to call his father. Dean could see the tears streaming down Sam’s cheeks, but couldn’t bring himself to comfort his brother while Y/N laid dying in his arms. No. She wasn’t dying, she wouldn’t die. Dean couldn’t live without her.

Whispering reassurances and putting pressure on the still rapidly bleeding wound he discovered, Dean found himself staring hopefully at Y/N’s face, wishing she would wake up. Suddenly, Dean hears a quiet groan and stops talking. “C’mon Y/N, come back to me. That’s it” Dean encouraged. Y/N groaned louder and started to move in Dean’s arms.

“No, no Y/N don’t move. You’ll be ok, just don’t move. Can you open your eyes for me sweetheart?” Dean coaxed. Slowly Y/N’s face scrunched up and her eyelids started fluttering. “D-dean…” Y/N groaned, trying to force her eyes to focus on him. Dean saw the moment she realised what was happening, her eyes widened and her already shallow breathing became more rapid. “D-Dean, something’s wrong.” She whispered desperately, panic filled eyes locked on his. “Shhh, it’s ok, you’re ok, an ambulance is coming,�� Dean reassured her.

All the fight and panic drained out of Y/N in an instant, leaving her panting and slumped in Dean’s lap. She licked her dry lips, “Dean, I gotta tell you something.” “Yeah? Do you want to move? Am I hurting you?” Dean asked quickly, eyes searching her face for the answers. “No, Dean. I’m okay,” she whispered, but Dean knew she didn’t mean it. She slowly raised a bloodied hand, placing it gently on his face, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. Dean smiled tearily down at her and leaned into the contact.

“Dean…these past few days …have been the best of my miserable life.” Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N stopped him. “Wait…let me finish.” Y/N gasped for breath between words. Dean nodded, as a tear slid down his bloodied cheek. “I’m sorry I have to tell you like this, but…” she paused to breathe heavily, “I-I realised that- that I love you.” Y/N whispered, her own tears falling.

Dean breathed in sharply. She loved him. “I-I love you too, Y/N. So, so much.” He replied softly, resting his forehead against her’s. “But you’re gonna be alright. The ambulance is coming, we’ll fix you up.” Y/N smiled softly at him, “No, Dean. There’s- there’s not much time left for me… I’m sorry.” Her breaths were becoming weaker and her heartbeat was becoming fainter. But Dean refused to give up, “No, Y/N! I need you to fight for me, sweetheart. Don’t give up! Please…” He pleaded desperately with her, the sirens were getting gradually louder. But they were still so far away.

“I’m sorry, Dean…” Y/N whispered, smiling tearfully up at him. “I love you so much… thank you for giving me the best time of my life.” She lifted her head slightly to press her lips to his and breathed deeply before going limp in his arms. “No! Y/N, please!” Dean pleaded with the still girl. He pressed his fingers into her throat, desperate to find a pulse. But there was none to find. Dean broke. The girl he loved was dead, and all he could do was hold her to him and sob. Sam walked up behind him and hugged him tightly, his tears dampening Dean’s already blood-soaked shirt. Both boys’ heart-wrenching cries filling the air as the sound of an ambulance siren became louder in the distance.

Tags: @ladyaragorn13 @winchesters-favorite-girl @spnfanficfavorites @nvmoake @extreme-supernatural-lover @fangirlinglikeamentalpatient @greenapples1212

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matskreider-blog · 7 years ago

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5 & 20 for pekka/juuse?

5. “Just breathe.” deficient & determined au. content warnings: description of a panic attack/disassociation spell from the pov of the person going through it.

In the still, warm darkness, Pekka lays curled up on his side. He’s hiding from the lazy winter sunrise, hiding from the warm body on the other side of the bed, hiding from his coaches, his teammates, his fans. Pekka is hiding, and he feels all the more pathetic for it.

His play has been on again off again for far too long, and he finds himself drawn to the same ways of coping that he had before Juuse. Shutting himself off from his teammates, for one. Ignoring social media, for another, even though he hardly posted anything. Mechanically going through training and practice, leaving his mental game behind. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was giving up more starts to Juuse in the coming games, if not being pulled in favor of him.

These thoughts take advantage of the fact that he’s not yet managed to do anything by way of living yet in the day. Even though it’s 7:45am, he wonders why he wasn’t more productive yet today, why he hasn’t at least gotten up and done something with himself. His body still aches from the game last night, but he doesn’t see any sense in thinking that that meant hard work. They’d lost in overtime, a loss he blamed himself for.

He curls up a little tighter, ignoring the way it makes his quad twinge, and tries to keep his breathing quiet. Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, he tries to think positive, think the way that his therapist has told him is okay to direct towards yourself. And it works, for a little bit. But then he thinks to himself how pathetic it is that he has to use someone else’s words to make himself feel better, and it just drags him down further.

Being under the covers is nice, he thinks to himself, in a vain attempt to reroute his thoughts. It’s dark, and quiet, and eventually it takes the oxygen away so you don’t have to continue being so worthless and a drain on everyone else. Isn’t that great?

He is feeling sort of light headed, but he can’t tell if it’s because of the blankets or something else. Vaguely he feels someone shaking him, but maybe he’s just trembling by himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that that happened. But he should probably stop moving, if he doesn’t want to wake up Juuse. And he doesn’t, that’s the last thing he wants to do.

So he tries to fight against the movement, but that proves hard to do. Maybe someone else is actually shaking him? His chest feels kind of tight, but maybe it’s because he’s balled up so tight. He would try to unclench, but his body feels kind of locked in position. Maybe later, when he has more energy, he’ll spread out, but for now, he’s okay. He’ll make himself be okay.

Then Pekka swears he’s being thrown into a snowbank. Everything is cold and everything is white. Eventually, definition starts to filter in. He’s in his bed, still, but the covers have been pulled off of him. The shaking is still happening, but now he’s pretty much certain that it is him, but the hands on him are trying to help him ground himself.

Faintly, he hears some wheezing. Juuse should probably get that checked out, there’s no way he can play if he’s wheezing like that. But then he hears Juuse’s voice, and he sounds okay, so who could be wheezing?

“That’s it, come back for me. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay. Just breathe, babe, just breathe.” The words are familiar, and he tries to take the advice – but when he does, his lungs feel stiff, and that gets him panicking. Finally, he can move somewhat, and he rolls onto his arms, coughing and gasping as he tries to breathe. Juuse rubs a comforting hand down his back, and somewhere Pekka realizes that the wheezing was him.

It takes a few minutes before Pekka can breathe again, before the floaters go away and he can actually focus on Juuse. He looks troubled, but relieved now that Pekka was more alert than before. “…How long was it?” he asks, softly.

“About an hour,” Juuse answers, his voice just as soft. “You only started moving a little bit in the last five minutes though, and at that point I…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Pekka nods, and diverts his gaze. “I…um…” He takes a breath, now that he can, and squeezes his fingers into the duvet. “I…was thinking about…my gameplay. And I felt…not good. So I just kind of…got stuck.” He knows that it’s not the most eloquent, but his brain still feels like mush, and he’s trying.

Juuse, the sweetheart that he is, knows how to read between the lines. “I’m sorry that happened, babe. You know you can always wake me up if you’re having bad thoughts, right?” he insists, gently placing his hand on Pekka’s knee. “I promise I won’t yell or be mad.”

Pekka heaves a shaky sigh. “I…I know. Thank you. Um…can I have my collar now?” he asks softly, his voice trembling.

“I’d rather have your neck clear right now. Just for a little bit, until you calm down, okay?” Juuse murmurs. “I’ll collar you later, but I want to make sure you’re okay first. I don’t want you hurting.”

Pekka can feel his chest tightening again, but Juuse puts a hand on the back of his neck, and it helps to settle him.

“Shh, I’m not mad at you, babe. I just want you safe, okay? It would be irresponsible of me to do that right now,” Juuse explains. “But if you want, we can go downstairs and make some breakfast? If doing things with your hands might help?”

The suggestions sit right with Pekka. He can make up for his shit play with doing as Juuse says, and he can make Juuse proud and earn his collar back. He wants to prove himself to be good, so he looks at Juuse and nods. When he gets a smile and a kiss on the cheek in response, he feels infinitely more settled.

20. “You gotta stop doing that.” boss & baby au.

Juuse pretends not to know how much sway he has over the Family. He pretends not to know how much he means to the organization as a whole, and he pretends that he’s too young to know any of it. He shyly hides his English skills, blushing on cue, and keeps his mouth sealed tight against secrets others let slip around him.

He observes, but he doesn’t act.

But he knows how much he means to Pekka. With every dress, every choker, every meal, every palette and brush, he receives materialistic affirmation of Pekka’s devotion. With every moan, every kiss, every bruise, and every sigh, he receives an emotional affirmation that carries just as much weight in his heart as his Daddy’s black card does in his wallet.

He observes, and he acts on those observations.

Sometimes, though, these two desires conflict. He’ll be under Pekka on some Friday morning, sliding his hands down warm skin and opening his mouth to let out small noises of pleasure, when the phone will ring. Not Pekka’s phone for pleasure, nor Juuse’s phone for complete strangers or trusted friends, but Pekka’s work phone. And he’ll sigh, but pull back to check who it is, and Juuse will throw an arm over his eyes and will hope that it’s no one of consequence.

It will be a vain hope, because he will already have a pretty good idea of who is calling based on the little secrets he’d heard here and there. He’ll drum his nails on his stomach, exposed in the morning light, and he’ll listen to Pekka answering with his business voice. It’s awfully close to his bedroom voice, soft yet powerful, and it will inevitably get Juuse going again.

He’ll debate in his mind if this is a call he can afford to interrupt. He’s a smart boy, and he’ll come to a decision. If it’s not, he’ll wait it out, and see if they have more time before Pekka must go. If it is, however, he’ll push himself up to his knees and sidle over to where Pekka is talking on the phone.

He’ll kiss his neck, first, to test the waters. If he’s not pushed away, he’ll continue, down to his shoulder, and from there let his hands rove. Maybe he’ll tease at Pekka’s nipples first or maybe he’ll drag his nails over Pekka’s abs first, but either way, he will do both. Either way, he’ll keep working at his Daddy until he can reasonably slide his hand into Pekka’s boxers and move his fingers in such a way that he knows Pekka will be hanging up soon.

When he does, he’ll pin him to the bed with a low growl, admonishing, “You gotta stop doing that.”

To which Juuse will reply, “When it stops working, I will.”

And then they’ll be too busy to talk about anything of consequence for quite some time, and Juuse will feel a satisfaction he thinks he’ll never get tired of. And, maybe, he’ll offer some advice on the predicament over breakfast, with his Daddy’s marks fresh on his neck, peeking above his pink satin robe. Or, maybe he’ll just sit quietly and eat, crossing his ankles under the table and listening with his mouth full.

After all, he’s good at that.

#kay answers #anon #kay writes #otp: finnish house mafia #au: deficient & determined #au: boss & baby #i'm not even really sure if the first one does need a content warning but i figured i'd put it out there since it's kinda.....not.....great #pekka's not at his healthiest we'll just say that #but yeah i hope you enjoy these!

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thegreatspain · 8 years ago

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A Room with an Alpha (UsUk/UkUs)(pt.1)

“ALFRED JONES! YOU GET OUT OF THERE THIS INSTANCE!” “Hold on Artie! I’m almost done!” “You’ve been saying that for half an hour! Get out now you git!” I was a seduced fool to believe that this Alpha was any different than the others! He’s selfish, inconsiderate, obnoxious, lazy, arrogant, a real asshat! Right now, his majesty is using all the hot water for his shower and leaving me nothing. Meanwhile, I have class that I’m going to be late for if he doesn’t get out now. And I’m not going to go to class smelling like the way I am! “That’s it!” I snapped as I swung open the bathroom door before pulling open the shower curtain to reveal a very much naked Alfred. “Whoa!” he covered his junk as I simply scoffed. “Dude, I said I’m almost done!” “You’ve been in here for over an hour! You’re done!” I pulled him out of the shower and shoved him out of the bathroom. “But what about my hair? I still have shampoo to rinse out!” “Use the sink!” “But how am I supposed to dry off?” I threw a towel at him, it smacking him in the face, before closing the door. Damn, now I have to rush! Stupid Alfred! I swear he does this on purpose. After taking my medicine, I pealed of my band aid along with my clothes and took a quick shower. The warm water only lasted for a minute before I had to suffer through the cold. And to put a turd on top of this crap-tastic cake, I couldn’t even eat breakfast before I had to run to class. It wasn’t until I got to my third class that I really started to feel it. I was drowsy, my stomach hurting and grumbling with hunger, and my head was pounding. It’s all Alfred’s fault… well, maybe not /entirely/ his fault. I could’ve woken up earlier or ate while I waited for him to get out. I could’ve done a lot of things, to be honest, but I guess I’m just so used to my schedule that I hadn’t taken Alfred’s schedule into consideration….he’s still an asshole for taking too damn long. I mean, honestly, what is he doing in there that takes an hour? “Ack!” I yelled out in surprise when something hit my head. Growling, I turned to yell at the bloke that decided to mess with me today only to find myself staring at a lunch box being handed to me by none other than Alfred himself. “Alfred?” “Were you fantasizing about me?” he jest as I snarled at him. That just made him giggle as he placed the box in front of me. “I’m just yanking your chain. It’s not much, but I’ll go grocery shopping before today ends.” He always gives me a charming smile even after I give him a tongue lashing. I was confused at what he was trying to say though and my confusion only increased when I opened the plastic red lunchbox. In it was an apple, a cup full of granola, a ham and cheese sandwich, and a cold water bottle. “What’s the meaning of this?” “You haven’t had breakfast this morning, right? I thought since you were in such a rush because of me, I should do something to help. Oh!” He dug into his pocket before pulling out a band aid. I nearly had a heart attack until I realized I was wearing my dark grey turtleneck sweater. “I saw it on the sink in the bathroom and I didn’t know if you remembered to put one on.” “I-I didn’t.” I felt my face grow warm before I took the band aid and cleared my throat. “Th-thank you…. for the breakfast and the band aid.” “It’s no problem for the hero! Now hurry up! Don’t go spoiling your lunch now!" There’s that childlike grin again. It always made my heart beat just a little bit faster, even when I want to be angry at him. Even though he’s an idiot, I guess he can be charming from time to time. The food he brought me helped tremendously with getting rid of my headache, my sleepiness, and, of course, my hunger. It wasn’t too bad, in all honesty. For something quickly made, it’s quite filling. My other classes went smoother than my morning classes. Now all I just have is homework. “Why must I take so many math classes?” I groaned as I raked my fingers through my hair. Before I could continue any further, the phone rang. “I got it!” Alfred said quickly as he eagerly picked up the phone. “Yellow?… Lynn! Hey! How’s it going?” My ears perked up as soon as I heard his voice get more bubbly than usual. He went on with his conversation with her as I felt tempted to pick up the phone near me to listen to the rest of their conversation. I decided against it since I don’t /have/ to know every little part of his life. Trying to get back to work, I found myself easily distracted by his voice. He just sounds so happy that I wish it was me on the other end of the phone causing that silly grin on his face. “It’s great here on campus!” he continued. “The place is huge yet open, my room’s pretty awesome too, I have a cool roommate as well.” I felt my ears burning as he mentioned me to her. “There’s just one thing that I don’t like about this place…. I know and I’m trying not to, but I can’t help it sometimes.” His personality suddenly went from cheery and loud to solemn and lonely. “It’s not just missing my hometown, I miss you babe~” I froze, not knowing what to do or say or even think. A part of me wants to believe that there’s nothing between them, that this is just a girl who happens to be a friend of his. Why am I getting so worked up about this? He’s just my roommate and nothing else. I shouldn’t even give it a second thought if he has a girlfriend. Yet here I am, wishing and hoping that she’s just some hometown girl that Alfred was or is friends with. One, two, three hours of them chatting on phone passed and I still haven’t finished one problem on my work sheet. Before the fourth hour could hit, their conversation started to die down. “Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.” God he sounds so disappointed, it makes me sick! “I have classes tomorrow but I finish early! Maybe I can call you this time…. Oh, you can’t?… No, I’m fine. It just would be nice to talk to you some more…. So, I guess this is goodnight.” That little chuckle he does nearly kills me, but it was the last thing he said that hit me like a ton of bricks. “I love you too~” I gripped my pencil tightly and tried to distract myself by going back to work. It didn’t help that I kept hearing Alfred sighing like he wished this Lynn girl was here with him. I should’ve known though. What am I compared to an actual Omega? I’m weak, skinny, not that smart, short tempered, ugly, not to mention a man. I’m absolutely worthless compared to a woman who’s an Omega. She’s probably beautiful and has probably known Alfred for a lot longer than I have. No more. I’m not going to keep getting my hopes up and then my heart broken by Alphas that don’t even want me. I’ll just stick to getting my degree right now and then focus on getting started on my career. No more Alphas and more importantly, no more Alfred.

#usuk #ukus #smut?#hetalia

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kiri-chu · 8 years ago

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Guys, I REALLY need help. Please read.

I quit my job at Panera Bread about 2 months ago because the environment was TOXIC and other reasons.

I was being bullied by a manager mentally and emotionally. This manager made fun of my mental disabilities of having depression, ADHD, and anxiety. He used them against me and I would normally come home crying from each shift I worked with him. Nothing was done about his actions and he got away with playing the victim card, making me look like the guilty one when I actually wasn’t. He has called me; worthless, pathetic, shit, shit head, moron, r*t*rded, and has told me to kill myself on numerous occasions. These names were intentional and he did tell me that he wasn’t joking because he really did hate me. If I can recall, the only thing that I ever did to the guy was ask him to cool it on the name calling. I dreaded working with him everyday because of the hurtful things he would say to me and others. He was mean to a lot of people and has even said some racist things because “that’s how I treat everyone because I’m perfect.” He targeted me in particular for some reason.

The General Managers always took me for granted and took the side of the manager who bullied me.

Numerous times I was threatened to have my job taken away when all I did was bust my ass

Customers were VIOLENT and just outright nasty

I had a severe anxiety attack after a customer threatened to “beat my fucking face in” all because we didn’t carry the half size portion of Tortellini anymore. The manager who bullied me, forced me to go back up while I was still crying and told me to suck it up and stop faking for attention.

Some guy literally threw his open hot chocolate at me because he was upset that there wasn’t caramel in it.

A woman called me r*t*rded because I wasn’t understanding her wording of her questions.

I was constantly threatened with being written up for stupid reasons like, talking when it was slow to my co workers

I was also threatened by being told I was at the very bottom of the good workers scale (Which is a thing and I think is bullshit) all because I defended myself when hurtful things were said to me by customers. Also the fact that the manager who bullied me said “She doesn’t work at all, she practically makes everyone else do her work for her and she’s a lazy person” Which is not true at all. I busted my ass in that hell hole everyday I worked.

So there’s more to it where my dad just talked to the manager bullying me and said to just be nicer to me. This manager took it as a “physical threat” when my dad wasn’t even yelling or being intimidating. This manager blew it out of proportion and got my dad banned from the store. After I called in and quit, the GM banned me from the store simply because he didn’t like me because of what the other manager has told him.

I DO have a new job but I only work 15 hours or less per week and the pay rate I’m making isn’t enough for me to keep up with paying rent and having left over money for myself.

I would love it if you guys would commission me to help me out. Seriously, I need the money because finding a second job is hard. I love drawing and I would love to draw for you! Please check out this link to my blog to where I have put my commissions (sorry in advance for the crappy layout) and shoot me a message / ask and I will be more than happy to draw for you and even negotiate prices.

There are currently 4 slots that I have opened and I cannot wait to hear from you. Thank you so much for your help.

#commissions #open commissions #kiri.txt

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ali-explains-it-all · 5 years ago

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Journal time

I would much rather a paper journal but this is what I have right now so here we go.

Life has been pretty chill for a while. Then it kind of came to a head. Jace got a job and hurt his knee really badly. So he was fired but they claim he quit. What the fuck ever. He’s miserable about it and it sucks. I hate it for him. Like that sucks. I think they realized they can’t fire him for getting hurt so they lied. It’s a prison so they are obvi currupt. Well let’s talk about Jaces knee. We have been trying to get him seen forever. Insurance took forever to accept everything. US health system at large. ( eye rolls ) but eventually it did and Jace got his MRI. The MRI dude was like ‘ I can’t tell you what I seen but it’s been to come in when you feel pain than to let it get that bad ‘ . And then he went in for his next appointment that Monday. WELL they rescheduled him last minute for the 13th of this month. It’s the 6th and his doctor called today after seeing the MRI and being like ‘ don’t bother with the next appointment. It’s an emergency. We can get you in on Thursday. ‘ and proceeded to tel him that his knee cap is torn off and he doesn’t know how Jace walks. And said that his Cartledge is non existent and he has arthritis. And other stuff I didn’t unferstand like a torn membrain. Jace has been in extreme pain for months now and his fucking family acts like what he’s going through is nothing. His mom constantly getting mad he isn’t doing things for her. When she should be helping him. He is literally crippled. His sister asking him to do everything. Side story his sister and her family are homeless right now. Her husband quits jobs faster than anyone I’ve ever known. He can make up to like 20 dollars an hour and he is just like ‘ how about I just stay home instead ‘. And he doesn’t want to watch the kids so he doesn’t let Jaces sister Juliette get a good job either. She was offered to live in two different houses to themselves for free and they turned them down because her husband Adam wasn’t allowed there. Why not? He doesn’t like them and he’s an asshole. He said some really mean stuff about their uncle and he’s never come to their grandmas anything. And he refuses to be a man and take care of his family. He just gives them rules. So none of them want him around. So their homeless. Not finding jobs to fix this matter and are in a charity apartment that lasts 90 days. This is their second charity apartment which means they had about two 90 day periods. And now they are almost out of time. Yet to have kept a job. Juliette has straight up ruined job opportunities by yelling at employers because they made mistakes. And called into other jobs because she didn’t feel like working and expected them to be okay with it. Like no. No job let’s you miss the first day. What? But she expects us to help her all the time. And sure why not help. When we needed help she has turned us down. She has never done me a solid. She got me Christmas gifts. I love them and use them. Very thankful for those gifts even though she shop lifted them. But when we were in a bad place she was like ‘ nah ‘. Which is her choice. We still helped her all the time. She asked jace to do insane things he couldn’t do because he as I said earlier has a list of things wrong with his right knee. When he said no he physically couldn’t do those things. Like watch her kids for her. No. Her son who is clearly autistic and she doesn’t bother to get him diagnosed and get him into places that can teach him and help him. He is way too much for us. We have Lorelei and Zoey. And Zoey has autism and she is a handful all on her own. Arabella her daughter is chill. No problem what so ever. But Jack will hurt himself 90% of the time. He will step on Lorelei and throw stuff that can hurt her and him. He could hurt Jace. Like it’s way too much him and I. I couldn’t do it all on my own either. Jack sadly is just watch too much for me. But any other time we have helped her. At Christmas dinner at her memaws she started talking shit about everyone.

Well Christmas Day was supposed to be Jaces mom, Juliette , her two kids, Jace , Lorelei , Zoey and i. We were gonna have this spread of family dinner. Juliette was donated so much food and SHE offered to use that for dinner since it was donated so she would have a Christmas dinner. Which was cool. And then while she was at their memaws for some reason Adam decided to be the trash can he is and said he didn’t want us to have the food. That Jace is lazy and won’t keep a job. And he doesn’t want to waste it on him or any of us. So Jaces mom made meatloaf. Which I PREFER meatloaf. I was so happy. Then Bruce Jaces uncle told him why. And guess what? Jace didn’t believe it. He thought Bruce was lying because Adam was mean to him. So Jace called his mom and his mom said it was true. So Jace called Juliette and asked and she just dogged us so hard. Like she said I never cleaned and called me lazy. I literally am the only person who cleans this fucking apartment. I’m the only person who does almost anything here. I just cleaned Jaces moms bathroom because she doesn’t bother. They will live in filth and complain but not get up from their laptops and do anything. I was pregnant and couldn’t walk and this place was a fucking pigstye. I clean so much. But she was like ‘ I have been to your house. I see it ‘. Like first of all you selfish person. I have been to your apartment multiple times and I seen how fucking disgusting it was. Your last apartment smelled so bad. Food everywhere and trash piled up. Smelling of decomposing food and mildew. Did I judge you? NO. You have two kids, a mental illness and an actual worthless husband who has to be paid to watch his own kids. Yes I know your mom had to pay him so he would watch them. So I understood. It’s hard to keep the place clean. Jack is a tornado in and of himself. There is no such thing as clean. But you come here all high and mighty thinking you know me because you happen to come and some bad days of mine. And complaining that I don’t work. Lady I have a child with autism who has picca and BM issues. I also have no ride to work. I don’t have a car. But I do pay bills. Since I get a check for Zoey. I clean this apartment all the fucking time. I cook dinner for everyone. I buy food for everyone. I buy a lot of stuff to make sure this apartment still runs. I pay bills. I may not have a job but I bring so much fucking value to this home. Don’t even act like I am worthless when you guys spent so much money on pot and fast food and couldn’t afford your bills. Because hey I don’t use my money on things I can’t afford. Like hey I haven’t had new pants in over a year. I’ve had one new shirt. But it for shrunk in the dryer and it doesn’t fit anymore. So basically I have ratty ass clothes and I look like shit but you know what. I make sure we have what we need. I don’t spent it on pot. So coming at me and judging me is so ignorant when I have time and time again been so nice. I help any way I can. And you know what? I know why you’re like this about me. Because you wanted me to give you my Hulu password so your husband who can’t do anything for himself or his family can watch it while he’s at work. It made me uncomfortable. First your mom told me it was for him then you tried to lie to me and say it was for you. I didn’t answer you because it makes me uncomfortable when people lie to me. Then you keep bothering me about it. And then you say it is for him. Jace answers you and says no. I don’t wanna share with him and be his reason to not work. Or his reason he got fired. I pay 30 dollars for my Hulu. I let you use it before because I didn’t think you’d abuse it. But I don’t want that. I don’t want him to give my account out either. I don’t trust him. I am honestly so fucking worthwhile. I am so nice and caring and loving. I provide and help. I am annoying and I sick at doing dishes and remembering to put stuff in the dryer. But I do my best. And sitting around being a cunt because your life sucks isn’t okay.

Then tonight I finally get Lorelei asleep. And as you know. Jaces mom moved in with us because at first she wanted to save money. And eventually move. But Jace lost his job and now she helps with bills. Before she didn’t . Now she does. I am so thankful. But she is so mean these days since Jace is hurt. Side story - Which is insane since she was hurt in June and was laid up for over a month and we didn’t even complain. But he’s injured and can’t do everything for her and she’s mad all the time. Like this is what she does. She wanted a dog and encouraged it. We got a dog and loved him. She had to take him out sometimes. She got tired of that real fast and found him a new owner before even asking if we wanted to give him away. Jace worked a lot and he couldn’t always walk him. And Jaces mom hated this dog because he was a lot of work and took up a lot of space. And Jace felt like he had to. And Jace cried for months about this. And that’s what his mom does. Well now she is mad all the time because she’s inconvenienced. Tonight I finally get Lorelei to sleep and we are in the living room because Jace is asleep and I can’t do anything to wake him up. He needs his sleep turned around for his surgery Thursday. And we have an open concept place. The kitchen is connected to the living room. She comes in and sees me with all the lights out and my computer screen off and sees Lorelei asleep with her baby music on and then she walks into the kitchej and turns on the light. Fine if it doesn’t bother Lorelei it’s fine. But it did. And I asked if she could turn the light off while she uses the microwave. Lorelei is trying to sleep. Note that she was also slamming things. But I didn’t bring that up. I asked nicely and she yelled at me. Telling me she can’t use it without the lights on and why isn’t Lorelei in her bed anyways. And I explained that Lorelei has to be fully asleep before I move her or she will wake up and be awake all night long. And she got so mad but turned off the light. And I get it. It’s annoying to have to do that. But she came in at 9pm. And she seen me yesterday using my phone light to cook. I don’t expect her to do something if I don’t do it. But I do it too. I put the baby first. I don’t even think she likes Lorelei. She literally has told jace that Lorelei isn’t allowed to eat French fries because she doesn’t want Lorelei to be the fat cousin. EXCUSE ME. What?

Lately Jace has been so loving and sweet and caring. He got me so many gifts. And loved on me. Gave me the best sex and have been pretty much fulfilling my needs. I am so thankful. One part of my life is going well. Just everyone else is just testing me. My kindness can run out though.

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thenameisbinx · 5 years ago

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Blame Monday

ive been wanting to write down this entry since tuesday but i was busy trying to regulate my thoughts. Writing has always been my point of solace where in i find peace of mind and a completely different outlet as to talking to my friends about what im going through. i’ve set to making this entry in defining my roles and the effect of them. however, i ended up realizing its too complicated to describe.

so let’s start it like this instead.

Facade - a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect

OK. let’s not waste anytime by letting people see who you really are. Smile for the audience and don’t show that your hurt, in pain, or depressed. Keep moving and show that you’re fine. be in everyone’s good graces. please them like a slave. adapt, change for them, plead for their acceptance. All the while, bury your thoughts of reality within you. you’ll get to that stage where youre always wanted.

Reality bites. you keep wearing a mask for too long that you forget how to be weak, to be vulnerable. i learned that word when i was seven. one of the words you learn at that age where words originating from the french language. it was along the lines of “rendezvous” words or english classes that tries to teach different sounds of words that has literal sounding letters. When the teacher told us what it means, i always thought it was acting. Facade is a character that you want to play but not in a movie, but in your life. it dawned on me that ive been doing that awhile. since i could remember. Then i keep just playing along.

Before, i would bring the sadness of my day by showing to the people that i’m ok. That it doesnt hurt. My mom pulled my hair and complained how thick it was, even if i was sitting still not wanting her to try to do my hair. called me, “worthless” and “incompetent”. instead of crying, i’d laugh and play around with some classmates the moment i get to school. Or the time that my sister made fun of how ugly i was in front of her friends, that i’m just an orphan. I just talked back and said, “Well, at least im not fat.” Then, there was this one time that my dad scolded me for trying to play in my undergarments, i wasnt naked but i was wearing a thick white top under my uniform and some thick shorts thats long enough to touch my knee under my skirt, like my friends were doing at school. i wore three layers everyday and wasnt allowed to take it off till i go home but i saw some kids doing it. took a layer off and played. i was 6. Dad dragged me out of my school yard and slapped me right in front of the guard. Don’t get me started with my brother. let’s just say, he never made me feel like im important in the family. he’s the only person that treats me like im nothing and no one until now. like my opinions didnt matter, or as if what i do doesnt have any relevance. yet, i’m the jolly one. the funny one. the energetic one. the loud one. the push over. easy definition, the masochist. Harsh but partially true.

Now, implications. still, verbal cues. like, “lazy”, or “stupid”. in the family, its more verbal but emotional responses. Mostly they cuss, or scream or yell. If i reciprocate the same but not intentionally, i still get scolded. i cant talk back because im just the help. i’m obligated to do what they want me to. Even if im tired from work. Even if i just got dumped. Even if my mind is going through some stuff.

what you dont know. i go through these every day and i don’t bring it at work or when i go out with “friends”. I’ll go to work with a smile on my face like nothing bad ever happened to my life. i’d put that big smile on my face and just laugh things out. Remember just the little good things that happened and seemingly move on, but i don’t. its slowly sinking into my chest. Subconsciously weeping like a baby, consciously aware that during a meeting i’d want to cry just because i couldnt keep it in a box. i’d clench my fist as if im waiting for my palms to bleed because it crate wasn’t chained shut. it oozes when you can’t regulate.

Obedient - submissive to the restraint or command of authority

the words “dont” and “do” are basic commands to me. any question that has “did” are immediate doubt on me or even the start of the sentence “have you” makes me quiver already. i was taught to obey a form of authority. Parents, older siblings, uncles, aunties, prefects, teachers, apparently, anyone who is older. so when someone says, “believe me” or “did you know”, i immediately am in awe. i believe them. the fun fact is stuck in my head. i pass down the knowledge or experience. There’s another word for obedience, gullible.

i was once asked by my brother to go through trash when i was a kid. because he threw something he shouldnt. i was asked to do my sister’s homework because my mom overheard her asking me to do so. i was told by my so called friends to ask people for their numbers for them for their friendship in exchange. I have reached the point that i feel guilty when im not doing what people ask me to.

imagine working. imagine dating. imagine meeting new people. i can paint a picture but it’s too painful. Subconsciously, i thought i have removed that side of me. unfortunately, reflecting on the past few days, NOPE. i thought my defensive stature in every decision ive made was and the only way to take off that obedience or gullible card. Looks like i have been. being conditioned this way from the very beginning makes it seem impossible to take off. Obedience equals to gullibility. Refusal equals to guilt.

my dad comes home drunk one time, asked me to give him his gun to point at my brother. i said no, he shook me. no one else stopped me but i obeyed. i talked to my sister’s friends once. she told me never to talk to them and beat me up till i had bruises on my stomach. i wanted to cry when one of her friends talked to me. so i ran away. i wasn’t allowed to sleep until i memorized multiplication set of 9. it was 3AM, i woke up on the bathroom toilet. my mom woke up and asked me to recite it. closed the door and told me to recite it till i said the right answers. there’s consequences if i dont follow. i took that till adulthood.

i have guilt if i don’t do what i was asked to. more guilt if i really decide not to. it consumes me till i finally give in. i feel regretful right after. then, i completely try to forget. that never happened. ever tried telling your boss no? i learned how to say no last year. i had multiple speeches dedicated to me with people saying, “Do you even know how to say no? do you even hear thank you?” i feel obligated to do what people want. i feel obligated to give what people want or need without being asked to. let’s stop there. i sound stupid.

Strength - legal, logical, or moral force; degree of potency of effect or of concentration

People see what i want them to see. Facade comes into this picture. i’m always strong. can never show my weakness. if i do, i lose. if i don’t, i lose internally. i’ve been playing the supergirl card all my life. issue is, i’m always alone. always the savior never the saved.

Superhero syndrome. ever heard that song Superman?

It may sound absurd but don't be naive Even Heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed but won't you concede Even Heroes have the right to dream It's not easy to be me

my whole life revolves three things; work, home, friends. i always wanted to be alone, but i don’t survive it much. never felt wanted anywhere, even if its family or friends. then, work came. loved it because it was the only place the NEEDED me. but seems that i wear my cape there everyday. to the point that i couldnt be clark kent there either. always strong, never vulnerable.

been saying lately, im tired of being strong. then Monday came. That’s that for strength, it’s pretty self explanatory on my side. it’s too literal of a section so i hope this would suffice. for the last of the entry.

Tired - drained of strength and energy

Trigger : work

Action : Resignation

Symptoms : Nausea, shaking hands and knees, vomiting, clouded vision, crying, Lack of sleep, loss of appetite, lack of motivation, heavy breathing, sleep paralysis, sleep apnea

Diagnosis : Unknown

Working Impression : Panic Anxiety Disorder

i’ve defined some of my roles. a glimpse of my mind and soul but to the people i’ll be send a link of this too, i bet you only know some. some, would even say they never knew. you know, i dont share my feeling or these heavy stories. seemed irrelevant. one time, 1st grade. i shared a problem about the family to a friend. This ‘friend’ made it seem too petty to the point i avoided sharing problems since then. i feel like any problem i have has no value to others. so i keep it in. just me. maybe a few blank pages. some ink. mostly tears. by myself. on my own.

when i feel bad, or depressed when i was a kid. i would cry faintly inside my closet. come out after an hour or two. wiping tears of my face. i got caught once, by my dad. i just said, nope i was just checking my closet. i acted as if what he said before that point was ok. i step out when i feel weird and want to cry. ive learned how to cry heavily without showing an expression or even in a quiet manner. Congrats to me, i brought that till adulthood.

Until Monday. i tried to put up my mask. but couldnt. i tried to be strong. but couldnt. i tried to obey. but couldnt. i remember asking my boss recently, can i be selfish? all my walls broke down in one day. all my optimism. my positivity. and i thought that i can do it. what people saw of me, they couldnt recognize me.

i showed me. the weak one. couldnt even get myself to fake it. fake being strong, fake happiness, no mask. i couldnt even try. i was just done. even basing on what ive written on this entry, getting tired wouldnt be an option just yet. i didnt even talk about love or difficulties. i only got to write down instances. i was just done pretending.

since that day, i couldnt regulate. i associated almost everything and get anxious about everything. seeing the exit to my work makes me tense. walking to the building tightens my chest. getting inside makes me palpitate. claustrophobic. i dont usually breathe heavy but the doctor said breathing exercises would help. SOMETIMES it does. but not everytime.

it took years to learn how to regulate these thoughts that i experience daily and i feel like i have to go through two decades again to learn how. i didnt lose myself, thats for sure. but i feel like im not strong enough to stay in one place anymore. to have the same people in my life anymore. i want to leave. i want to disappear.

you know what i did after i broke down on my boss? i sat in a Starbucks branch in Molito. and starred out the window for two hours. spaced out. even my friends knew i dont do that. i felt like i died and im just the undead walking around doing my daily routine.

why am i writing this? it’s 2:35AM. nearly sleepy by the way. i’m writing this for me to realize something. i already just did. i just realized that what people knew of me, wasn’t me. what you see and experience of me now, is the true me and i dont like it. i want to be wild binx on good days. bea when im home. bianca when im at work. looks like i can’t be that for a while.

to those im sending this link to, i hope you read the whole thing. so you really know where i’m at. youre worried or concerned yea? well, here i am. here it is. i’m sorry im dumping my indifference this way. i’m sorry that im burdening you of my petty problems. i’m sorry i cant be myself. i’m sorry i cant be that person you knew.

blame Monday.

#anxitey #define me #monday #mental breakdown

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apostleshop · 6 years ago

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4 Amazing Saints to Lean on when Motherhood is the Pits

Great News has been shared on https://apostleshop.com/4-amazing-saints-to-lean-on-when-motherhood-is-the-pits/

4 Amazing Saints to Lean on when Motherhood is the Pits

Image credit: Unsplash.com (2018), CC0 Public Domain

Motherhood is hard.

We are (in a nutshell) therapist, general practitioner, and chef. We’re also CEO, hospitality services, the board of education, on-call stylist, secretary, personal trainer, and housekeeping.

Yes, we do it all, and we pride ourselves on doing it well.

Unless, of course, we don’t.

You’ve had your share of moments, right?

Like the time the toddler channeled Picasso in the living room and tried to clean it up himself. Or the day the seven-year-old insisted on trying a parkour move but ended up in the ER instead of on the couch. Or the one time (many times) you were so frustrated with the middle-schooler, you both yelled a lot of things you didn’t mean.

And of course these events wrapped up with a visit from the most unforgiving superior ever:

If only I were more consistent … If I could just get up half an hour before the kids … If I weren’t so lazy and worthless the house would run like clockwork …

Motherhood is truly the toughest job on the planet.

It is also frequently the pits.

Fortunately, as Catholic women, we are in quite a bit of luck. Even the saints understood – and in some cases, lived – how motherhood can push us to the breaking point.

Here are four Saints to lean on when you’re riding the margins of wife and mom.

St. John Paul the Great

If any man ever understood the nature of motherhood, it was St. John Paul the Great. While his gentle temperament and charismatic spirit drew people of all backgrounds, his longstanding devotion to the Blessed Virgin gave him particular insight into the life of a mom.

Mary’s motherhood was not easy. Jesus was fully divine and perfectly obedient, but he was also a fully human, energetic, intensely curious boy. I don’t know about you, but I would have flipped after getting this answer from my child following a three-day journey to figure out where he’d gone (hence, why I am not Mary, but I digress …)

St. John Paul the Great understood this about Mary, and it was the focal point from which he approached all things feminine and maternal. We can see his wisdom clearly in the following excerpt from a letter he sent to the mother of newborn twins:

I sense tiredness in your letter, which is easy to understand … On top of this, you always wanted to plan and do everything rationally. And here is the kingdom of irrationality, where normal activity and energy aren’t enough; you need to wait things out, some time to do nothing, and simply, patience – especially since there are two. I realized that, on the one hand, there is always a price we pay for love. On the other, thanks to God, love is returned in that price. What I mean is, the concrete challenge of love cannot be separated from Him; it is always in Him.

Pray: St. John Paul the Great, intercede for me when I am weary. Pray that I might find joy and fulfillment in the price of motherhood, the price I pay for love. Amen.

Mother Teresa

Ever have one of those days when everything you do feels useless? Like the time you spent half an hour cleaning the living room, only to turn around and see it deestroyed? Mother Teresa is the perfect saint to call on in the midst of these desperations. Her reminders that we can find holiness in the small things are the encouragement we weary mothers need:

Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do … but how much love we put in that action.

Pray: Mother Teresa, you understood the sanctifying nature of even the most humble action. Pray for me, that I might remember to offer each act of service for my family as an act of service for the Son. Amen.

St. Monica

God had something special in store for St. Augustine, and he chose an extraordinary woman to guide the holy saint. Despite years of her son’s direct and often flagrant disobedience to her and to the Church, Monica never tired of finding — and restoring — her son to the Truth. Monica’s journey took her halfway around the globe in search of Augustine; when she found him she refused to let him go. It was her steadfast devotion to the Lord and to Augustine which gave us one of the most prominent theologians in the history of the Church.

What can we learn from St. Monica, as modern women raising saints? We’d do well to remember the words often attributed to Augustine’s mother:

Nothing is far from God.

Pray: Dear St. Monica, I long to raise my children as saints and servants of God. Pray for me, that I might remember even in my darkest hour that nothing is far from God. Amen.

St. Zelie Martin

“Oh well, that’s the day so far, and it’s still only noon. If this continues I will be dead by this evening! You see, at the moment, life seems so heavy for me to bear, and I don’t have the courage because everything looks black to me.”

Sound like something you could have written? Actually, these words belong to St. Zelie Martin, the mother of St. Therese. The Little Flower and her sisters were intense, fiery children: strong-willed, opinionated, and, in some instances, seemingly lost to God.

Zelie’s faith never wavered, however, despite caring for the rambunctious group of future venerables, blesseds, and saints. She persevered and grew in holiness under additional pressures most saints were immune to: financial concerns dictated that she also become a work-from-home mom.

Pray: Dear St. Zelie, pray for me. I worry so much about my children and the futures they have in store. Pray that I may learn to follow your example and place all of my trust in God. Amen.

Yes, my friends: I said it. Motherhood is hard. But it is also beautiful, sanctifying, and totally worth it, especially when we’ve got the saints on our side.

Which #saints are in your motherhood posse? -@ginny_kochis Click To Tweet

Which saints are in your motherhood posse? To whom do you turn when mothering gets tough?

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unrequitedmime · 7 years ago

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"She's pretty," she announces quietly, her voice shaking slightly. At least, she thinks she was. Her face was a blur of features. All Cassie remembered was curly hair and green eyes. And pain. Cassie remembered blinding pain in her leg and blood everywhere. She remembered it soaking Nathaniel's shirt as he stared down at her in worry. She remembered a deafening silence settling upon her body, and Nathaniel's voice flowing like the wind. She remembers hiding. From who, she doesn't know. No, that's a lie. She knows who she was hiding from. Assassins. That was the word Nathaniel had murmured to her as he carried her home; her body limp and her mind near crumbled as she had asked who the bad guys were. "Assassins, Cass," he had whispered to the night air, thinking she was asleep, "Assassins." He doesn't look up from his cereal. His arms rest beside the bowl. The spoon rests against the marble bench. She watches him. "What's her name?" Cassie whispers, her voice trembling a lot more. He ignores her yet again. She fights the urge to sigh. She picks up her own spoon and begins dipping it through her cereal. Silence settles between them, as it always does, and she lets it fall. She lets it smother her memories of last night. Memories of a boy with wide eyes and shaking breaths and breath as warm as fire. Let the silence smother away the memory of her name on his lips. He sounded kind when he said her name. Nathaniel had never sounded kind. "Fi," he chokes out eventually. The name vibrates through her body like electricity, "Her name is Fiona." She is quiet, "Who is she?" He doesn't look away from his cereal, "My sister," he whispers. Her heart stops, "But-" she stutters, "Nathaniel you said you sister was d-" "Not my real sister," he growls, his voice ripping through the air and slicing her skin. She flinches away from him. There he is; the Nathaniel that she knows. The rude, merciless, sour shell of a boy. The Nathaniel that cannot go three minutes without insulting her, the Nathaniel that broke into her house and then claimed she was in the wrong for not protecting herself better. The Nathaniel that smirked when she nearly got run over. The Nathaniel that had a vise like grip and eyes that burnt everything to ashes. Usually her, depending on how stupid he deemed her comments. "Oh," she says at last, quietly. "Just a good friend?" He stares at the bench, his dark hair a mess from running his hands through them. He looks up to her, and his green eyes shine with grief. It knocks the breath from her. She never thought that Nathaniel, the insufferable dick, was capable of such sadness. For one singular moment, she feels for him. Her heart reaches out to him. She knows grief. "My best friend," he answers, his voice low, "But you wouldn't understand what that is, would you, Cassandra?" His voice is a lazy snarl. Tears fill her eyes and she lets out a deep breath. Well, that was a nice thirty seconds. "Do you have to be such a dick all the time?" She snaps, "God, Nathaniel, I was just trying to have a conversation-" "No," he glowers, "You were trying to be nosy. You don't know anything about me. I don't value you as a person, just so you know." "And yet you're in my house, eating my cereal." His eyes twinkle with cheek, "I'll take what I can get, even if I have to lie to get it. You should understand that the most out of everyone, Cassandra." She stands up so fast she knocks the stool out from beneath her. His eyes sober slightly as he recognises the fury burning in her eyes. "Get the fuck out of my house," her voice is steady, yet it burns with rage. "No." She picks up her cereal bowl and without any hesitation at all, flings it at his head. He ducks in time to miss the bowl, but the milk, grains and banana slosh over his head. He swears, deeply. She would laugh if her rage wasn't so hot it was tinging her vision with red. "I said," she announces slowly, her voice trembling with barely contained anger, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE." He stands up straight, milk dripping down his face. His green eyes burn. She's sure her own are smouldering. She picks up her spoon and throws it at him. It strikes him in the chest and he lets out a pained gasp. He clutches his chest and bends over, breathing heavily, trying to focus on not passing out. She rolls her eyes before striding to his side. Spoons don't hurt that much. She leans down and grabs his hair. She pull him upright and he swears softly. "Nathaniel," she warns quietly, "If you ever say that to me again I will cut your tongue out," He laughs at her words, and she squeezes tighter, tugging at his head again. Everything blurs as anger and rage burn through her self control. "You have no idea who I am," she growls, "You know my fucking name, Nathaniel. That is all. You don't know anything about me, and I'll be damned if you think you can throw those stories at me like they're knives piercing my heart. They are not true, and I will NOT let you walk all over me as if your knowledge of those rumours makes me worthless. YOU are worthless if you thought that bringing them up was a good idea; a good power card. You are stupid. Get the fuck out of my house, Nathaniel. If I ever see your face again, i promise I will call the police." She releases his hair the same time she releases her fury. She lets it go in a roaring wave, a tsunami. She lets out a breath. Her knees begin to tremble. Nathaniel stands up straight, staring at her in shock. His chest heaves, as does hers. Electricity sizzles in the air. "Get out." He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with regret, "Cassandra-" "I SAID GET OUT." The front door closes as her knees give in. "Hey Suzie," he grins; a lazy grin that girls seem to love. She spins to face him, her blonde hair spinning with devastating simplicity. Her blue eyes light up when she spots him, and he fights the urge to cringe away. The exact same shade as Olly's. "Oh!" She startles, her voice high and as sweet as honey. Nathaniel doesn't quite like honey, "Hi, Nathaniel! How are you, babe?" She looks away for a second, inspecting the necklace on the stand, and he rolls his eyes. He hates when girls throw the word Babe around. He hates being called Babe. So did Olly. "Good thanks, darlin, how about you?" She bats her long eyelashes at him, and he wonders how much mascara she has on. "Better now you're here," she giggles, and he smiles, ignoring the churning of his gut. "Where's Cassie?" She asks, her voice souring as she says the name. Nathaniel spots it for a flicker of a second; a heart full of rubbish and foul words. He schools his features into confusion, "Who?" She lets out a laugh, joyed by his rudeness. He begs that God forgives him. Not that he deserves it. "Cassie, you know!" She exclaims, "The boring one? Brown hair, brown eyes? Looks like a deer caught in headlights all the time!" Anger curls in his body. Cassandra's eyes look like a deer's, yes, but they're beautiful. They reflect winter woods and everything gentle in the world. Until he had thrown that stupid comment in; based on the whisper of a story he had heard about her. Curse his stupid, stupid mouth. "Oh!" He feigns recognition, "Cassandra? I have no idea where she is. I washed her off my body a week ago." Her eyes widened, "You slept with her!?" Her whisper was not at all quiet. It echoed around the shop. He tried to smirk, but his lips hurt, "She threw herself at me. I didn't want to be rude and tell her no." She gaped. He shrugged, fighting the vomit rising in his stomach. Guilt. So many lies. "She seemed a bit desperate." Suzie nods enthusiastically, watching him as if he held the world in his hands, "I bet she did!" He raises his eyebrows, "You sound familiar with her sex life." Suzie glances around the shop before leaning in to him. He leans forward, thirsty for answers. "There are stories about her." "What stories?" She flashes a smile at him, "I'll tell you over coffee. Your shout?" He buries the frustration burning within him and smiles kindly, "Of course." She giggles, "Great! It's a date!" The knock sounds as she finishes cleaning up the mess. A small part of her regrets throwing it at him. It was such a waste of cereal, and Aunt May is going to kill her if she finds out Cassie threw a bowl in her pristine kitchen. She puts the broom back and walks to the front door. She inspects her hands as she walks, checking for trembles. None. Good, now she can punch Nathaniel with a steady fist. She throws open the front door, glaring, "Nathaniel, I said-" Her words falter. "Hi!" A girl with bright red hair stands in front of her. Her eyes are a deep blue. The same shade as Suzie's. Her disliking for the poor girl is immediate. "Oh!" Cassie lets out a breath before forcing a smile, "Hi, sorry. Can I help you?" She realises there are multiple people on her front steps, all assembled rather casually, yet their muscles are drawn and their faces are tense. Behind the red head is a girl with straight, dirty brown hair; a deep chocolate. Her olive skin shines and her dark brown eyes stare intently at Cassie as if she is the root of all the world's problems. She wears all black and fingerless gloves. Next to her stands a tall guy, a boulder of a man. His hair is a cute honey coloured mess, and his light brown eyes are soft. His muscles, on the other hand, are not. Two people stands on the bottom of the steps, their faces slightly turned away from Cassie. One of them, a tall boy a mop of black hair, catches her eye. Something about him attracts her gaze, and keeps it. As he tilts his head to meet her eyes, the red head speaks. Or squeaks, more like it. "We're here in response to the ad about boarders!" Cassie blinks. "The ad?" "Yes, um..." Red thinks for a moment, "Patricia May? She's offering two rooms for boarders! We're here to inspect!" Her disliking for the girl momentarily burns like fire within her. Does she have to yell everything? How is it even possible to be that chipper? "Aunt May isn't home," Cassie answers blankly. The moment Red spoke Cassie decided that whatever she wanted, Cassie wouldn't give it to her. Not to mention a gods damned room in her house. Red frowns, confused, "Oh, are you her niece?" Her eyes brighten, and Cassie fights the urge to sigh. "Patricia said that her niece would show us the rooms!" Her smile is too bright for Cassie. "Oh, really?" Cassie asks, her voice empty, "Aunt May didn't tell me that. I'll have to call her and ask her to give you guys a personal tour of the rooms when she gets back. In a month." The boy on the steps snorts, and for a moment something like hatred flickers in Red's face as she stares at Cassie. Cassie blinks, and it's gone. "Oh!" Red startles, her voice squeaking so high Cassie winces, "No, that won't work! My friends and I have been back packing across the country and have finally decided to settle down! We have no place to stay! Please let us have a look! It would mean so much!" Cassie glares, her temper flaring to life, "You're backpackers," she snaps, "Surely you can find somewhere to stay. Have a good day." She moves to slam the door, but Red jams her foot in, yelping in pain as it jams. Cassie swings the door open, incredulous. Red drops to the floor, dramatically sobbing in pain. The brown haired girl catches her. Cassie frowns down at them. "What are you doing?" The brown haired girl glares up at her, "Jesus Christ! You nearly broke her ankle! Can you at least let us in to get some ice?" Cassie bends down to look at Red's ankle. "It's not even bruised. She'll live." Another snort from the steps. The big guy turns to glare, "Monty, shut up. You too, Fi." Everything stops. Cassie's body turns cold. She schools her features into calm as she bends to inspect Red's ankle yet again. She frowns. "Ice?" The brown haired girl demands. Cassie looks up, allowing her face to fall into a mask of confusion and guilt. She had always been a good liar. "Look," she says, straightening up, "I don't really know if I'm meant to put ice on that or heat." Anger flares in the other girl's eyes. Red watches her carefully, keeping up her cries. Good actor, she had to give her that. Someone give her an Oscar. "You put ice on it." "Mmmm," Cassie sighs uncertainly, fishing out her phone. She ignores the tremble of her hands by fiddling, hoping none of the team notices her shake. Because that's what they are; a team. "I'm not too sure. I'm gonna call my friend, Lacy. She's really good at dealing with this sort of stuff; her mums a nurse." The two girls glare up at her as Cassie dials. She holds the phone to her ear and releases a breath as it rings. "You need ice," the brown haired girl suggests again, but Cassie shooshes her. Cassie's eyes fall upon the two on the bottom of the steps. Her eyes find the girl; Fi. Brown curls and green eyes. Light freckles upon chocolate skin. She's even more beautiful in daylight. Damn her. Her gaze falls upon the boy beside Fi; Monty. He meets her gaze, and something like a shock of recognition shakes her body. He is tall and slim, yet muscles race along his body. Unruly curly hair, a mess of black upon his head. Violet eyes. Gorgeous. "Cassandra-" Nathaniel's voice is tinged with regret as he answers. Cassie nearly sobs as she takes a step inside of her house, inside of the doorway. She turns away slightly to hide the terror in her eyes. She masks her face into calm as she turns back to the group. "Hey," she breathes, making her voice sound chipper, "I have a slight dilemma." The brown haired girl rolls her eyes and stands up, losing her patience. Red remains on the floor, glaring. The big guy sits next to her, uninterested and seemingly bored. Silence settles on the other edge of the phone call, "What's your dilemma?" Nathaniel breathes quickly, as if already running. "Well," she sighs before meeting Monty's eyes. "Fi's here." The words spark through the air like electricity. Everyone in the team jumps up, Red's eyes burning with anger as she glares at Cassie, but Cassie keeps talking. "Well, not just Fi, actually," Cassie announces casually, "Everyone else is here too. Hey, Nathaniel, you didn't tell me that one of the Assassins was so beautiful! I mean, violet eyes? Come on, man! Could've warned me! Now I'm in love with him and there's nothing I can do about it!" The assassins assemble around her front doorway, a ring of knives and burning gazes and deadly focus. There is no way she's getting out of this alive. She lets her eyes flutter closed for a moment, ignoring Nathaniel's voice roaring down the phone, shouting instructions. She allows herself one moment. One moment to thank the world for her life. She is grateful. Truly grateful. "Nathaniel?" She whispers as each assassin pulls out a blade. Dead silence, "Yes, Cassie?" His voice shakes slightly. "The one with the red hair? She's a bitch." He manages to laugh, "Yes, yes she is." Shock startles through her at his words. The brown hair girl pulls out a gun and points it at Cassie's forehead. She doesn't flinch. "Wait," she demands into the phone, "You fucking know these guys?" Each assassin pauses at the sound of her voice; her tone, before turning to look at the red head. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Cassie, shock barrelling through her ocean depths. Cassie gives her the finger. Her hand does not tremble. "Monty," Nathaniel ignores her, his voice low in the phone, "Help her," he growls into the phone, pleading. Cassie frowns in confusion. "Nathaniel, are you retarded?" She asks the phone, ready to die mad at Nathaniel. The assassins seems to be pausing. Grief flashes through their eyes every time she says his name. She watches it spark through their bodies. Her eyes fall upon Monty. He seems to be fighting a mental battle bloodier than the others. He stares at the ground, thinking, his frown burning with grief and indecision. She watches him. "Cassandra," Red says, "Tell Nate not to come," her voice cracks on his name, "Please. If you care about Nate at all, then tell him not to come. Save his life by giving up yours." Cassie doesn't look away from Monty. He doesn't meet her eyes. "Look, Red," Cassie sighs, and Nathaniel chokes, "I get that whole thing. Like the cute and classic sacrifice between friends. One dies to save the other and all that jazz. But the thing is, I don't actually like Nathaniel. He is mean, and rude, and a hell of a lot of other bad things. We had the biggest fight this morning, you guys should have been there. I completely destroyed him!" The girl with the brown hair sighs in frustration. The one with the curls- Fi- watches Cassie, an amused smile burning on her lips. "No one fucking cares!" Snaps brown hair, "The only reason we haven't killed you yet is because we want Nate to stay away!" Cassie watches Monty, silent. "Well, anyway," Cassie sighs, her eyes still on Monty, "It was nice meeting you guys, however short this was. I'm Cassie, by the way, but you guys will probably call me Cassandra. That's what Nathaniel calls me, even though I hate it," she stares at Monty, "We even get into arguments about it," she pauses, "He used to swear a lot and then stop and then stare me dead in the eye and tell me I reminded him of Monty. And then he'd smile a bit, and I'd swear again and tell him that no one cares about Monty. And then he'd get really mad at me. Last time I said that, he didn't speak to me for three days." At last, Monty meets her eyes. His violet fields shine. They take her breath away. "Monty," Red breathes, "Don't you dare." Monty continues to stare at Cassie. She stares back. "Nate's at the end of the street, by the way," he says to his team. They spin to search for Nathaniel, and Monty barges into Cassie without hesitation. She lets out a gasp as he flings her over his shoulder and runs. He doesn't look back. For some strange reason, neither does she.

unrequited

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