#it… wasn’t a hopeful trip. depressing. I want a job and to get out so bad

[floral-hex]

Got a month’s prescription of klonopin. Wish I could find out how other people are affected by it, but all I find are posts about getting fucked up. I mean, I guess good for y’all, but not very helpful for me 🤷🏻‍♂️

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: my @wyattjohnston winter fic exchange fic for @senditcolton (whose writing i am OBSSESSED with - praise you like i should made me see the light on matty t) 🥰 i’ve never written for tyler seguin and my only familiarity with him was him showing his own headshot to get into the arena which immediately made me love him lol. i had fun writing this one and i hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 12.1k

tw: drinking , fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, hangovers, mild cursing

summary: new year’s eve in las vegas gets out of hand when you meet tyler, a gorgeous stranger in the club

After your divorce papers are signed, sealed, and delivered - on Christmas day no less, leave it to your jackass ex to find the only lawyer in the entire Fort Worth area willing to work on a national fucking holiday - your best friends appear at your front door with suitcases, bottles of champagne, and round trip tickets to Las Vegas, leaving on the 27th.

“No,” you tell them flatly, arms crossed over your flannel shirt, hair in a three-day old knot on top of your head. “I’m not in the mood to go anywhere, much less Vegas.”

You hadn’t even taken your parents up on the offer to pay for a plane ticket back home to New York for the holidays. It was too much to face them after your marriage had imploded and getting the third degree from your relatives wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. Spending the holidays alone had seemed like a better option, even if the day had been a little lonely. But a spiked hot chocolate and a string of Christmas movie classics had kept you from getting too depressed.

“Honey,” Nora says, in her Christmas sweat set, the cartoon Grinch blazoned across the front giving you a nasty smirk, a patient smile on her face, “now is exactly the time to get away. You just shed a hundred seventy five pounds of jackass, you need a distraction.”

She muscles past you and nearly drags her rolling suitcase’s wheels over your bare toes. You pull your foot back and lean against the wall as Katie and Nic follow her inside, a makeshift parade to celebrate your divorce. Nic at least has the decency to shoot you an apologetic look as she passes, whispering, “I tried to get her to settle for a little trip to a spa, you know, manis, pedis, massage. But you know Nora…”

“Never Takes No for an Answer Nora,” you finish when Nic trails off, smiling a little despite yourself. Nic gives you a little smile and bumps your hip with hers.

“Seriously though,” she says as you close the door behind her, “if you really don’t want to go, Nor will understand.”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, I…it’s probably good for me to get out of town,” you admit reluctantly. It’s been a depressing few months, full of anger and tears and tense phone calls and curt emails. You’re tired of being sad, of being angry, but mostly you’re tired of being in the same city as your asshole ex-husband. Even though you moved out of the house you shared and into an apartment, the entire city holds reminders of your relationship. Now that the divorce is official, you’re starting to wonder if staying in Fort Worth is the right move. Your friends and your job are here, but the risk of running into Jason is astronomically high and maybe a change of scenery would be good. You rub at your forehead - that’s a problem for the new year.

The girls leave their suitcases in a pile in your front hall. Two pairs of Nikes and a pair of Ugg platforms join the suitcases and you’re pulled into a pile on your couch - the college tradition for a broken relationship. Back then it had been cheap wine coolers and binge watching The Bachelor. Now, Nora hands you a bottle of champagne, cheers when you pop the cork, and drops her head to your shoulder after you take a huge gulp. You drape your legs over Katie’s lap and rest your cheek on the top of Nora’s head. It’s not the way you thought you’d be spending the holidays, but you’re so grateful for your friends.

“In about an hour, we’re going to start helping you pack,” Nora says, taking the second bottle of champagne from Nic and swigging from it. “But right now, it’s time to tell us every single negative thought you’ve had about Jackass Jason and didn’t want to say before.“

“Have to cleanse the energy,” Nic says, “by putting all his negative traits into the air and I’ll light some sage.”

“Sage?” You lift an eyebrow, warm and cozy in the cocoon of your friends.

Nic digs into her giant purse and pulls out a wad of sage, tied up with white string. She beams. “Sage! It’s very cleansing.”

Katie cackles a laugh. She kicks Nic’s thigh lightly and grins, “never change those hippie ways, Nicky.”

“Pass me a lighter,” Nic holds out her free hand and wiggles her fingers. Nora drops a well used plastic Bic onto her palm and you lean in to cup your hands under the sage bundle. The last thing you want is ashy smudges on your couch.

It takes two tries, but eventually Nic manages to get the lighter to catch and she holds the flame to the top of the bundle. It immediately starts to smell of the burning herb and smoke rises to the ceiling when she blows out the small fire. You cough a little, the scent of sage stinging your nose. Nic rolls off the couch and begins to wave the stick around, explaining what she’s doing as she goes.

“So, we’re getting rid of all of Jason’s negative energy and karma,” she waves the stick and you wince when a little clump of ashes falls to the carpet and then sigh when Nic’s bare foot grinds them further into the fibers.

“Jason never lived here,” you point out reasonably, the bottle of champagne lighter in your hand as you take another drink. Your chest already feels lighter and less knotted with grief and anxiety.

Nic looks at you like you’re an idiot and you feel strangely chastened, taking another swig from the bottle. “Honey, his negative energy and toxicity was absorbed by you and all the stuff you took from the house. We have to just, like, get his energy out of here.” She cocks her head at you, squints, asks, “would you consider cutting your hair? Hair holds onto a lot of trauma.”

“No!” You yelp, hand flying up to clutch at the knotted mess on top of your head. “I thought you were the ones to talk me out of breakup bangs when he first left? Now I’m supposed to cut my hair?”

“Just a suggestion,” she says, even as the other two chime in from the couch to encourage a change in your hairstyle. Nora mentions a bob and you resist the urge to kick her.

With a roll of your eyes, you say firmly, “I’m not cutting my hair. Let’s move on from this.”

Nic nods and finishes sageing the apartment, leaving a faint haze of smoke in the air and you’re honestly very grateful when she puts the bundle in a ziploc bag and stashes it back in her purse. “Okay,” she beams, dusting off her hands, “bad energy officially cleansed. We can move onto the fun part!” She drinks from the bottle that you’ve mostly emptied on your own and before you can ask what the fun part is, you’re being pushed into your bedroom and the girls are rummaging in your closet for your suitcase.

They work in coordination, while you’re sitting stupid in the middle of your bed, to throw your skimpiest clothes into the opened suitcase. You watch as a colourful array of fabric is tossed from your drawers and wonder what, exactly, they have planned for the trip.

“This one, for sure,” Katie’s voice is muffled from deep in your closet. Her hand appears, the mirrored minidress you bought and wore for the Eras Tour swinging from its hanger. The mirrors sparkle under the hi-hats in your room and throw discs of light onto your bedroom walls.

“What are we doing in Vegas?” You ask finally, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I mean, I love that dress, but can’t this just be a chill trip? Like what if we just got tickets to see Adele? And I can cry to her music?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora shakes her head and Katie shakes the dress at you again. “We’re going to get you to forget about the jackass and the divorce one way or another. Whether it’s drinks or dick, that’s your choice, but you deserve to let loose after taking care of him all these years.”

“Besides,” Katie pipes up, “how good do you think we are that we could get last minute Adele tickets? That shit was sold out months ago!”

Tears prickle at your eyes, your nose burning a little. Divorced at 27 isn’t exactly how you pictured your life going after meeting Jason in college, getting married at 22, and supporting him all throughout his time in law school, but you’re beyond grateful for your girls.

“No dick,” you murmur, a shaky smile on your face. “I’m not ready for that, but drinks I can do.”

The trio cheers and starts tossing more clothes into your suitcase.

——

The next day is spent nursing your mild hangover and repacking the drunken mess you’d all made of your suitcase the night before. Once you’re packed to your satisfaction - mirrored mini dress and platform heels included - you run out for a quick wax before meeting the girls for a manicure.

“I meant to say it last night,” you say watching your crusty old gel polish disappear into dust, “but let me know what I owe you, for the flight and hotel and everything. I’ll Venmo you.”

Nora waves you off, apologising quickly to the manicurist when she complains as Nora’s hand is ripped away. “Don’t even worry about that. I used miles for the flights and -“

“The guy I’ve been seeing?” Nic cuts in. “The hedge fund guy, Mark, he’s treating for the hotel suite.”

Katie’s eyebrows shoot up along with yours. Clearly she didn’t know about the hotel connect. “Whoa,” she grins, “Nicky with the high roller! Hold onto him with two hands.”

Nic blushes. “He’s really sweet too.” She continues talking about him for a few minutes until she stops herself and looks at you with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Here I am rambling on and you’re going through -“

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You cut her off. “I’m okay! I want to hear about the guys you’re dating. Just because I’m single again doesn’t mean I want death to love for everyone.” You snort a laugh that sounds a little forced even to your own ears. The girls share a look that you hate, but continue talking about the dates they’ve been on and the mediocre sex they’ve been having. Truthfully, you tune them out a little bit, cranky about the divorce, about the trip that was sprung on you, and embarrassingly enough, jealous that they’re having sex at all.

Even before Jason started the divorce proceedings six months ago, it had been nearly eight months before that the last time you had sex. You should’ve realized he was seeing someone else on the side because there was no way he had gone that long without sex. And yet. You’d been caught off guard by the cliched texts found in his phone, the lacy thong found in his car, and the divorce petition delivered to you while he was “working late.” Thinking back on it, you feel supremely stupid.

Now that the paperwork is signed and you’re officially, legally single again, you’re just glad you didn’t have kids or anything really significant to fight over. It’s almost a blessing that the process wasn’t as drawn out as it could’ve been.

You make a conscious effort to push all thoughts of Jason from your mind and try to be in the moment, a task made easier once you’re in the air en route to Vegas and then actually in the city itself. It’s both like the movies and not, colorful and loud and a little sketchy. But you immediately make twenty bucks on a slot machine in the airport, so you figure that’s a good omen for the trip.

The first four days of the trip pass in a blur - all you can eat buffets, drinking, dancing, spas, too little sleep, and too much gambling. You’re up nearly three hundred dollars after being down almost a thousand the day before, so that’s cause to celebrate with drinks. Not that you really need an excuse - you’ve had more alcohol in the last four days than in the last four months. You’re exhausted, but you’ve also laughed more than you have in a year and your face hurts from smiling. The entire city has a numbing effect on your lingering emotions and you feel yourself starting to rediscover who you were before the Jason of it all.

“Time for the mirrorball dress!” Nora singsongs, dancing around the suite in her plush robe. It’s New Year’s Eve and the city feels even sparklier than usual. The streets have been packed with people and the casinos are at capacity - apparently there’s a hockey game tonight too, so the sports bettors are having a field day. You’ve been going to different hotel bars and clubs the past few nights, but tonight is the big night out before you fly back to Texas tomorrow night.

The entire Strip is shut down to traffic for the night and you’re planning on going to TAO for dinner and dancing since it’s inside the Venitian, where you’re staying. It’s a major splurge, but fuck it, you’re about to get alimony from your corporate lawyer ex-husband. You still have Jason’s credit card, so you’re fully planning on putting dinner on his tab, before he realizes that the card is in your possession. For all the little details Jason remembers, he’s surprisingly bad about his finances.

For now though, you dig your hand into the pillowcase that had been full of the little shot sized bottles of alcohol four days ago and is now mostly empty. You groan when you pull out a little bottle of Pink Whitney, the pink lemonade vodka is your least favorite drink. You knock back the shot while the girls cheer you on, all three of them already in various states of tipsy. It honestly feels like you haven’t been completely sober since you left Texas.

Nic blasts a classic 2000s playlist while you’re getting ready and you dance around the huge suite, feeling light and floaty.

It’s complete chaos out on the Strip, even though it’s barely after 7. You could’ve gotten to the restaurant directly through the hotel, but you decide to walk outside for a bit to see what’s happening. It’s chillier than you expected, so by the time you get to the restaurant, you’re more than ready for a drink and dinner. You fill up on sushi and expensive drinks, gossiping about people you knew in college, spilling some more of the more extreme details of Jason’s cheating when you’re finished with your third TAO-tini.

“FUCK HIM!” Katie shouts in the middle of the restaurant, drawing attention to your table. You giggle and shush her drunkenly, waving a hand to get her to lower her voice. “No,” she shakes her head, only marginally quieter, “you really are so much better than that douche. When we get downstairs, we’re finding a man and you’re fucking him!”

Nic giggles and leans a little sideways in her seat, “new dick to cleanse Jackass Jason from your vagina!”

You flush with embarrassment as more people look over, but thank god the waiter comes by with the check. You toss Jason’s platinum AmEx onto the little dish and grin wickedly as you tell the girls, “dinner was on Jason.” They cheer and Nora laughs, “I should’ve ordered another drink!”

Once the bill is paid, with a generous 30% tip added, you traipse downstairs into the club part of the restaurant. The lights are low and the music is loud, plenty of people already drunkenly dancing just three hours before midnight. Nic and Nora join the fray immediately while you and Katie detour off to the bathroom quickly where you fix up your makeup and fluff up your hair, inspecting your face in the mirror. You look tired, but there’s a spark in your eyes that you hadn’t noticed was missing in the last year of your relationship with Jason.

“I’m serious,” Katie says, her solemn tone betrayed by the slight slur to her ‘s’. “Pick a guy in here and I will make sure you fuck him. You deserve a little fun.”

“I have been having fun,” you assure her, your reflection grinning at hers. The alcohol is making your brain pleasantly fuzzy, thoughts drifting away as easily as they come. “I don’t need a man right now,” you continue. “Even for the night. I just want to dance.”

“Okay!” Katie chirps, grabbing your hand and pulling you back out into the club. “Let’s dance!”

And you do. You find Nic and Nora and for a handful of songs, the four of you are jumping and screaming and having a blast.

Sweaty and thirsty, you break off from the girls and wobble towards the bar, weaving in between the throngs of people. The line for the bar is two or three people deep, so you settle in for a wait, looking around the room and people watching. The crowd seems pretty typical for New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, but your gaze lands on a group of men and your heart skips a beat.

There’s at least four of them huddled together, maybe five, and you know you’re drunk, but you didn’t think you were drunk enough to be seeing double. You blink and they come into sharper focus - not seeing double, just two incredibly handsome, dark haired and bearded men. Another dark haired man with no beard and a curly haired blond man. They’re all in slacks and white button downs in various states of unbuttoned, like they came from the office or something. They don’t look out of place in the club though, with drinks in their hands and the way they’re grouped together.

They’re laughing and shoving at each other, like overgrown frat boys, and you can’t look away. You’re captivated by the way they hold themselves, clearly confident in their bodies. Even in the dark of the club, you can see the faint outlines of ink through the white fabric of one of the guys’ shirts.

You’re still staring like a creep when the tattooed guy turns and looks directly at you, making and holding eye contact. A little gasp slips from your lips and your stomach flips, the familiar and nearly forgotten feeling of arousal sparking to life in your stomach. His friends shove at his arms, laughing. You blink and look away, feeling shaky and not from the alcohol. A faint flutter between your legs has you pressing your thighs together. “This is stupid,” you mutter to yourself. Ten seconds of eye contact shouldn’t have had you reacting like this. Yes, it had been a while since you last had sex, but jeez.

You rub your fingers over the bridge of your nose and nearly jump out of your skin when a deep, unfamiliar voice says, “what are you drinking?” right in your ear.

“Oh!” You turn, stumbling just enough that a hand shoots out and grips your elbow to steady you. A warm, broad hand. Attached to a tanned, tattooed forearm. Attached to a broad chest barely covered by an obscenely unbuttoned white shirt - tattoos and chest hair exposed and making your body react. Attached to the dark haired man you had made eye contact with. You blink up into warm brown eyes and ignore the way your stomach clenches up. His thumb brushes against the inside of your elbow and your skin feels like it’s on fire.

His mouth, full lower lip and thinner upper lip surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, quirks up at the corner. “In case I wasn’t clear,” he says and you can hear the laughter in his tone, “can I buy you a drink?”

A faint smile touches your own lips and you nod. “Double vodka cranberry,” you say, voice a little raspy from screaming along to the music.

Mystery Man nods, smiling, “good choice. Come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand down your forearm and laces his fingers with yours to pull you behind him while he uses his broad shoulders to muscle past the crowd around the bar. When you reach the bar, he does a quick maneuver, dragging you in front of him so you’re sandwiched between the bar and his chest, heat pouring off his body. He leans forward a bit, pressing against you, and catches the bartender’s attention. Your entire body feels too warm, the thin fabric of your thong growing damp from the solid mass of his chest against your back.

“Double vodka cranberry for the lady,” he orders. “And double scotch on the rocks for me.”

His forearms come to rest on the bar top, trapping you in the circle of his arms. The alcohol is lowering your inhibitions and your intrusive thoughts win out and you arch your back a little, pressing your ass into his crotch, turning your head to look back at him. He wears a shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t usually let strangers buy me drinks,” you say, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t feel like a threat, doesn’t feel like someone you should be afraid of. You lean a little closer to him, something crackling in the air between your bodies.

Something flitters across his expression, but you’re just this side of drunk and can’t manage to identify it before it’s gone. “Tyler,” he introduces himself, trailing a finger over your arm and up to your shoulder where he plays with the thin silver strap holding your dress in place. “Not a stranger now.” Goosebumps lift on your arms as his fingertip twists in the skimpy strap. His gaze is searing, flickering from your eyes to your lips to the hint of cleavage exposed by the draping of your dress. Your nipples tighten under the fabric, pinching almost painfully.

You offer up your own name in return, taking the drink directly from the bartender when he returns. You sip at it and it tastes stronger than a double or maybe that’s just Tyler’s proximity that’s clouding your senses.

He takes a sip of his own drink and leads you away from the bar, giving you another opportunity to watch his back muscles move under his shirt as he works his way through the crowd. A gym rat, you think, with the way he’s all lean muscle and quiet strength. He’s muscled, but not disgustingly so.

“What are you doing in Vegas?” He asks, when you’re alone again, just off to the side of the bar. You can see the girls out of the corner of your eye, staring at you with matching ‘you go, girl!’ expressions on their faces. You giggle a little.

“Celebrating,” you reply vaguely, taking a sip of your drink and fluttering your lashes. You’re flirting, you realize. You haven’t flirted with anyone since Jason. The bubbly feeling in your chest expands and you smile up at him.

“Huh,” he laughs warmly, “what do you know, me too. And the only thing my night was missing is a pretty girl.”

Alcohol fuels your confidence, along with the hungry way Tyler’s gaze takes in your body, and you reply, “good thing you found me then.”

Your gaze lingers on the notch of his collarbone, the dusting of hair over his chest, the dark lines of his tattoos. Your cunt gives an enthusiastic throb and you swallow heavily.

Tyler leans in a little and you catch a whiff of spicy cologne mixed with the scotch on his breath. This isn’t his first drink of the night either. “Would your friends mind if I monopolized your time tonight?”

Biting your lip, you look over at the girls. Katie is moving her hand near her mouth in the universal sign for blowjob and Nic is giving you the biggest, most encouraging puppy dog eyes. Nora flashes you a double thumbs up, spilling some of her drink in the process. A laugh huffs through your nose and you look back up at Tyler, “no, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Good,” his smile is adorable, his hand lands on your waist, and you completely forget why you told Katie you weren’t interested in a hook up tonight. “Want to dance?”

You’re not quite sure how it happened - one minute you were dancing with Tyler, one of his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hips gyrated against his pelvis, the hard bulge of his cock obvious every time you moved and the next minute you found yourself pressed up against a wall in the VIP section of TAO, with Tyler’s tongue deep down your throat and his hand sliding up the side of your thigh, fingertips playing at the hem of your dress. Your hands are fisted around the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close as you can while you moan into his mouth and cant your hips towards his, spreading your legs a little to encourage his hand’s exploration.

His fingertips make contact with the soaked fabric of your thong and you whimper, knees going weak. Tyler’s lips turn up in a smile against yours and he uses more pressure, finding your clit easily through the fabric until you have to pull back and gasp for air, your head thrown back while you pant.

“Jesus, baby,” he mutters, kissing a trail down your jaw and over your throat. “You’re fucking soaked.” He sucks gently at your pulse point, your heart hammering in your chest.

He slips his fingers under the fabric, rough pads of his fingers catching against your slick folds. “Oh my god,” you mutter, grinding against his fingers. “More, please, Tyler.”

He obeys, thumb catching on your clit and middle finger teasing at your entrance before sliding inside easily. A whine catches in your throat and it feels so good, too good. Between the alcohol and the lust and the months long celibacy, you’re at the edge of an orgasm in less than a minute, dripping around Tyler’s fingers before you can even process that you’ve come. White spots dance in your vision and it could be the strobe lights or the searing pleasure from having your clit rolled between Tyler’s thick fingers.

“Good girl,” he grins against your neck, beard and teeth scraping against your skin. Your face already feels rubbed raw with beard burn, but you don’t want him to stop. “Think you can do it again?”

Truthfully you think that you’re so worked up and horny you could come just from Tyler looking at you, but you nod and squeak out a yes.

Tyler bites a mark against your collarbone and drops to his knees, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and forcing them apart. He looks up at you from between your legs, dark eyes even darker with lust and a wicked grin on his face, “hold on, baby, gonna make you see fireworks for the New Year.”

You laugh at the corny line, choking off into a prolonged moan when he buries his face between your legs and presses his tongue flat against your cunt, the wet heat of his tongue pressing your damp thong into your sensitive clit.

You’re beyond thankful for the darkness of the VIP area and the loud music because you can’t contain the noises that Tyler’s drawing from your mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair - fuck, it’s so soft - and hold his face up against your cunt. The other hand reaches blindly for the magnum bottle of champagne you’d been sharing. Technically it’s the second bottle and it’s more than half gone when you tip it up to your mouth for a drink.

“I - ah! I don’t usually doooooh my god, right there - this,” you gasp, writhing over Tyler’s face. His nose is pressed against your clit and his tongue is flat against you, licking with purpose. You grind against his face, making sure the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“What,” he pulls back with a wicked grin that only grows when you whine and try to push him back in place with your grip on his hair, “get your pussy licked?”

The bottom half of his face is glistening in the strobe lights and you feel the blush rise on your chest knowing that your body did that to him.

“Um, yes,” you admit quietly, “and the whole, uh, stranger in a club thing too.”

His smile turns a little soft, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Happy to be your first then,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and lifts your leg so it’s draped over his shoulder and you’re spread even wider for him. You’re impossibly exposed to him and all it does is make you wetter. Tyler tilts his head back a little and opens his mouth, you instinctively pour some champagne into his mouth, the both of you laughing when it splatters onto his face and shirt, making the white fabric nearly see-through. He wipes a little at his face, fingers scraping at his beard, and he shrugs. “Was gonna get all wet and messy anyway.”

He holds his champagne covered fingers up to your face and you lick at his skin, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and letting them rest on your tongue for a moment before he pushes them a little further past your lips, until saliva is dripping down his palm.

Tyler’s head is back between your legs, a strong hang gripping at your thigh, his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucks at the swollen bud and your leg kicks out, the heel of your platform smacking against his back with an audible thunking noise. He grunts into you and you moan an apology, his fingers falling out of your mouth so you can take another gulp of champagne. The bubbles fizz on your tongue and burn going down.

He buries his wet fingers into your cunt, curling and pumping, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Not that anyone would hear you with how loud the music is in the club. You grind your hips against Tyler’s face and feel him smile, the coarse hair on his face scratching against your inner thighs when you subconsciously try to close your legs around his ears.

“Gonna kill me,” he pulls back and mutters, nipping at the junction of your thigh. You jolt when his hands squeeze at your asscheeks, the scrape of the sequins on your dress adding more overwhelming sensation. He adjusts your thigh over his shoulder, his other hand trailing down your leg and wrapping around your ankle. He pulls back a little and you whine at the loss of sensation. “I like these,” he says, his fingers tapping against the sparkle of your platforms. “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.”

You laugh, about to deny that this is going any further than the club, when his mouth is back on your cunt, tongue stiff and warm as he licks at your clit. All thoughts are gone from your head, aware only of the pleasure Tyler’s giving you. His hands are all over your body, fidgeting from your thighs to your ass and back again, calloused fingertips ghosting over your skin and making you shiver.

You close your eyes against the pleasure building in your body, tears pooling at your waterline. How the fuck did you go this long in life without realizing that you’ve never had a satisfying orgasm? And some random, gorgeous man in a club in Vegas is the one to satisfy you over and over? It’s a shame this is a one night thing.

—-

Sunlight streams in through the windows and you screw your eyes shut tighter, nausea rolling your stomach even though you haven’t moved. It’s like an ice pick is stabbed into your temple, the throbbing somewhere deep in your brain a harsh reminder that you’re not 21 and immune to hangovers anymore.

You press your lips together and lift your hand to rub at your temple, trying to keep your movements as slow as possible so you don’t vomit. Something hard and sharp knocks against your brow bone and you crack one eye open to see what the hell it could possibly be since you don’t remember putting any jewelry on last night. A huge twinkly diamond ring stares back at you from your finger.

The ring finger.

The left ring finger.

…fuck

Your eyes fly open and you ignore the wave of nausea and shooting headache to look around the hotel room. The unfamiliar hotel room. The sheets slide down your chest, exposing you to cold air and making you shiver. Your nipples pebble from the cold and you look down, eyes widening at the little bruises and bite marks scattered over your chest and stomach. You’re naked under the sheets save for a pair of black boxer-briefs looped around one thigh, like you tried to put them on last night and got tired halfway. The fabric is soft and worn and they’re absolutely not your underwear.

“Fuck!” You yelp, gaze landing on Tyler’s prone form in the bed next to you. He’s flat on his back, one arm thrown over his face, the other out to his side with his fingers curled in your direction. “Oh my god!”

His chest is bare, tattoos a stark contrast against the white sheets and his tan skin. He’s got purpling bruises on his chest and stomach too, marks that you must’ve left on him. Marks that make a trail from his collarbone over his pecs, down his stomach, barely hidden by the sheet that rides low over his lap.

If you’re half wearing his briefs, he’s definitely completely naked from the waist down too. Before you can comprehend the thought, you wonder if you left marks lower on his body too.

Your head is moving around like it’s on a swivel, taking in all the details of the room that you’re pretty sure is Tyler’s. There’s a black suitcase in the corner and your dress is a shiny pile on the floor. Your thong tossed over the lampshade on the bedside table. You can’t find your shoes, until you notice them at the foot of the giant bed, left in a haphazard pile and you remember, faintly, Tyler’s words from last night - “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.” They look like they were discarded in a rush, one ankle strap not even fully pulled from its buckle. His clothes are everywhere, tossed in a trail from the door that speaks to how fast you were trying to get him naked.

The hangover is clouding your brain, making it feel like your head is stuffed with cotton, and you haven’t even begun to consider what the ring on your finger means. Maybe it was just a joke? It had to have been a joke.

Tyler shifts, grunting a little in his sleep, and reaches his hand out in your direction like he’s trying to find your body. His movement startles you.

“Ah, fuck!” You yelp, scrambling out of the bed, legs all tangled in the sheets. The briefs slip down your leg and tangle around your ankle. You kick your leg wildly, the black fabric going sailing across the room with the force of your kick. Frantically, you yank at one of the blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed and wrap it around yourself like a toga. Your hands shake a little.

Tyler stirs and blinks sleepily, stretching his arms over his head, giving you a show with how the black ink of his tattoos move. His gaze is unfocused when his eyes finally open, landing on your blanket-wrapped form. A slow smile graces his lips and he rasps, “hey, morning.” There’s a smudge of your dark lipstick on his cheek, partially hidden by his beard. A bruise is sucked into the underside of his bearded jaw and you notice, for the first time, the ragged red nail marks on his shoulders and biceps. He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal - and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize that feral animal had to have been you.

You can’t even find words, mouth gaping open and shut at him like a fish. Now that you’re standing, you finally stop for a second to take stock of your own body. Sticky between the thighs, sore like you’ve never been sore before - in a pleasant, well taken care of way. Your inner thighs feel raw and you know that when you look later, you’re going to find beard burn on the sensitive skin. You can already feel it on your chin and cheeks.

“What is this?” You hold your left hand out to him, the gaudy ring - because now that you’ve gotten a better look at it, it’s not a real diamond, thank god. It’s cubic zirconia or something cloudier than a real diamond and it’s a huge oval, spanning the entirety of your knuckle - glinting in the early morning sunlight.

Tyler squints at you, rolling onto his side before sitting up, either unaware or unconcerned that he’s completely naked and the sheet pools low enough in his lap that you can see the trail of dark hair leading down to his dick and the hair at the very base of him. You try to keep your eyes from looking, but he reaches a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck, making his bicep pop and the sheet move around and you’re only a woman, you can’t help yourself from looking. Your clit throbs between your legs, clearly remembering what happened last night even if most of it after getting eaten out in TAO is a little fuzzy to your brain.

“It’s a ring,” he replies simply, looking like his brain is trying to come back on-line too. He shifts his hand and his eyebrows lift. “Oh, shit. I’ve got one too.”

Your gaze lands on the band on his left ring finger. It’s yellow gold, or something cheap that looks like yellow gold, and you hate that your immediate thought is that it looks good on him. The band contrasts nicely with his skin and he spins it with his thumb, your eyes tracking the rotation.

A little chuckle slips past his lips and you blink at him. He takes in your expression and laughs outright. “Come on, you can’t possibly think we what? Got married last night?” His laugh is warm and too familiar for someone you’ve known less than twelve hours. “That’s a Vegas cliché if I’ve ever heard one.”

You shake your head. “Right, no. Yeah, I’m just being stupid. It’s just—“ you hesitate, glancing around the room again, avoiding looking at him, noticing the - oh god - four condom wrappers discarded on the floor. No wonder you’re so sore. The tenting of the sheet in his lap isn’t doing much to hide his morning wood, the shape of him obvious even with the quick little glances you’ve been sneaking. Four times. It’s a minor miracle that you’re not walking bowlegged.

Tyler stretches again and looks around for something - his clothes, his phone, who knows - while clearly not caring that the sheet is covering next to nothing. “Hey, do you see my phone?” He asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “Just wanna check the time.”

He’s remarkably chill and you’re starting to feel a little crazy for overreacting so much to silly rings bought in a drunken haze. There’s a phone on one of the little decorative tables in the corner of the room and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his, but when you pad across the room to get it, you step on a piece of paper, crumpling it under your heel. Leaning down to pick it up, you fall back on your ass in shock when your eyes land on the words at the top.

Clark County Marriage License

“You okay?” Tyler asks, sounding concerned.

“No,” you manage to squeak out the word around the block in your throat. There in black and white - your name and Tyler’s. Tyler Paul Seguin, apparently, if the document is to be believed. You feel your stomach lurch when you see the date on the license. Last night, New Year’s Eve.

How drunk had you been?

Who the hell had let you get married?

You’re so caught up in the implications of the piece of paper you’re holding that you don’t realize Tyler’s out of bed and squatting next to you, wearing his briefs, thank god.

“Whatcha got - oh,” he cuts himself off, reading the words over your shoulder. “Oh. Shit. Wow.”

He sits down on the floor next to you and you look over at him, eyes wide. “We actually got fucking married in Las Vegas,” you breathe, chest tightening in panic.

“I mean, maybe we didn’t?” He says hopefully. “That’s just a license, doesn’t mean we actually did it.” He taps his fingers absently over one well-muscled thigh, an irregular beat that you somehow sync your breathing to. With a huge effort, you drag your gaze away from his fingers - long and thick and the last you remember, stuffed up your cunt and dragging an orgasm out of your body - and steady your breathing. One hand presses against your chest, fingers digging into your skin like you could reach in and squeeze your heart back into a normal rhythm.

The phone on the tabletop starts buzzing and Tyler reaches up to grab it - “mine,” he says, glancing at the screen and jabs his finger to silence the alarm. He reaches his hand back up on the table and comes back with a handful of Polaroids. He splays them out like a deck of cards and you look at them. “Huh.”

Each picture is blurry as hell, but they’re unmistakably wedding photos. You’ve got a little fluffy veil on. Tyler’s shirt is unbuttoned past is sternum, but tucked neatly into his pants. He’s got you dipped back at the waist, kissing you dramatically. You’re on his back, holding a bouquet of flowers in the air as you kiss his cheek. He’s holding you, chest to chest, one large hand splayed over your bare back, your hand slid underneath his shirt. The Little White Wedding Chapel sign behind you and Tyler in one photo makes what happened last night unavoidable.

“I think we got married,” Tyler states the obvious and you burst into hysterical, gasping laughter. He looks at you, concerned for a beat before starting to laugh himself. It’s not funny at all, but if you don’t laugh, you think you’ll cry.

Once you catch your breath, you hiccup a little noise that sounds like a sob and carefully put the license up on the table. Tyler watches you and then glances back down at his phone, wincing at the time. “So, uh, hate to get married and run, but I have to go,” he taps his phone screen. “I’m on a flight to San Jose in an hour and I really can’t afford to miss that.”

You catch a glimpse of his lock screen and it’s a picture of him cuddling three dogs, which makes you feel marginally better because at least it’s not a woman that he’s cheating on and any man that has his dogs as his phone screen can’t be a total sociopath. A little bit of the knot in your chest unravels.

“San Jose,” you repeat, finally catching onto what he said. “Is that where you live?” You ask the question realizing you know nothing about this man that you’ve married. You didn’t even know his last name until five minutes ago. Oh god. You’re going to have to manage a time difference while filing for divorce. Your thoughts spiral out. Can you even get divorced in a state that’s not Nevada? You should know this, you’re probably the divorce expert in the room. He isn’t giving off divorced man energy, but do you give off divorced woman energy? You hadn’t thought about that and now it’s all you can focus on.

Tyler laughs a little, drawing your attention and stopping your panic attack. “No, thank god. I’m, uh, not to sound conceited,” he says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but you really didn’t recognize me?”

“Should I?” You frown, studying his face. Maybe he looks familiar? But in that way that most dark haired white men look alike. You’re almost positive that you’ve never seen him before.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is awkward. But I play for the Dallas Stars, the hockey team? We played Vegas last night, San Jose tomorrow.”

You cock your head at him, this new information sinking in. Dallas. Just thirty minutes from your place in Fort Worth. You’ve obviously heard of the Stars, you don’t live under a rock, but you’ve never been to a game, never cared about sports enough to learn any of the players’ names. It would be a weird thing to lie about, but - “prove it.”

“Prove it?” Tyler repeats incredulously. You nod. He frowns and looks like he’s trying to make a decision. After a second, he huffs a little laugh to himself and mutters, “well, it already worked once,” before unlocking his phone and typing away on the screen. A second later he holds it up next to his face, a Google search open on the screen. A headshot - Tyler’s headshot in a green jersey - looks back at you. He grins wryly, “proof enough?” The search bar at the bottom of the screen shows that he typed in ‘tyler seguin dallas stars headshot’ and misspelled his own name as ‘tylor’ - you don’t know why, but it makes you bite your lip to smother a laugh. The little typo is endearing.

You look back and forth between the screen and Tyler, long enough that he starts to genuinely laugh. “C’mon,” he teases, putting his phone down on his thigh, “you’re a tougher sell than security at the arena.”

“Okay,” you offer him a tiny smile, “I believe you. I’m just, um, a little overwhelmed. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever done it before either,” he replies, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be on the road for a bit, west coast swing, but if you put your number in my phone, I’ll have my lawyer start working on the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

He coughs a little awkwardly. “The divorce? Or annulment? Divorce though right? ‘Cause we obviously slept together,” he gestures at the condom wrappers, “so we can’t just sweep it under the rug. Like Ross and Rachel in Friends.”

“No!” The word slips out before you can stop it and Tyler frowns.

“We can annul it? My knowledge of ending Vegas weddings is pretty minimal.” He pauses and then as if to reassure you, says, “my knowledge of ending marriages in general is pretty limited too.”

“No,” you chew at your lip, “it’s still a divorce. But, fuck, this is mortifying. A second fucking divorce before I’m even 28. Good fucking job with your life.” You mutter the last bit more to yourself than to Tyler, tears welling up in your eyes. That would be the last thing you need, to tell your family and friends about this whole debacle. Literally a week after your first divorce is finalized, you go out and get married again. Drunkenly. In Las Vegas!

Tyler’s eyebrow lifts and he doesn’t ask the question he so clearly wants to ask. You scrub a hand over your face, nausea returning but you’re not sure if it’s the hangover this time or the way he’s looking at you.

“What if,” he says slowly, studying you carefully for a reaction, “what if, we just…didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” You shift, the floor uncomfortable under your sore ass. The blanket wrapped around your body isn’t the softest and you’re starting to sweat a little despite the cold air pumping into the room. Tyler’s presence next to you is becoming distracting, the movement of his chest muscles, the rasp of his voice. Your body wants more of him.

“Didn’t get divorced…” he tilts his head at you, keeps looking you in the eye, even after your jaw drops and the blanket slips a little. “We could, I don’t know, just -“

“Stay married?” You finish for him, eyebrows up in your hairline. He nods, shrugs - why not? “Oh my god.”

Tyler’s phone vibrates on his thigh and he glances down at the alarm. It reminds you that you have no idea where your own phone is and you really, really need to talk to the girls. He jabs at the alarm again and looks apologetic. “I really do have to go,” he gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull you up. A spark shoots up your arm when his fingers clasp around yours. He doesn’t let go right away, his thumb rubbing against the backs of your fingers. “Think about it,” he looks at you more softly than you think he really should be in this moment. “You said you don’t do this kind of thing,” he continues, “but new year, new you?” The tiny smile he gives you sends your heartbeat into overdrive and this cannot be good for your health.

“Drunk married in Vegas would be a really new me,” you reply faintly. His hand finally falls away from yours and you’re mildly concerned to realize that you miss his touch. Your fingers flex at your side.

His smile doesn’t waver and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair off your cheek, fingertips lingering on your skin. “I’ll be back in Dallas in two weeks. Think about it, I’ll take you to dinner and we can just…go from there.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Strangely enough, you do feel calmer than you had a few moments ago, Tyler’s steady calm rubbing off on you.

“Okay,” you nod, repeating yourself. “Okay. I’ll…two weeks.”

Tyler grins a little wickedly. “At least we know we’re good together in bed,” he teases, kicking at a condom wrapper with his bare foot.

A laugh startles out of your chest and you find yourself nodding in agreement. “I, ah, definitely agree with that,” you murmur, your entire face flaming with heat.

——

One Year Later - New Year’s Eve. Dallas. TX

Tyler greets you at the door, suited up and bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin,” he grins at you.

“Mr. Seguin,” you laugh back, leaning in to loop your arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, nipping at his lower lip. When you pull back, you’re breathless. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

His hands roam up and down your back, catching in the fabric of your sparkly white minidress, sliding up under the hem to knead at the flesh of your ass. He grins wickedly when his hands don’t find any fabric covering your ass. You smirk at him and wink, giggling when he pinches a cheek.

You lean into his touch with a contented purr. If it wouldn’t make you late for your own party, you’d pull him inside the house for a quickie. You’d already had sex this morning - a wedding present, according to Tyler when he’d given you back to back, mind numbing orgasms with his tongue and dick before you’d returned the favor with a blowjob that had rendered him speechless for twenty minutes - but you would never get enough of being in Tyler’s arms.

“Does it count as bad luck if none of the guests know they’re coming to a wedding?” He asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Or a vow renewal, technically.”

The last twelve months have been a little insane and honestly, looking back, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

After getting dressed quickly, Tyler had found your phone wedged in the cushions of the hotel room’s armchair. The battery was nearly drained but your screen was lit up with more than a hundred texts in the group chat with the girls and nearly as many missed calls. When you had finally called back, all three had shrieked that they were twenty minutes away from reporting you missing. You’d kept the little surprise of legally binding matrimony to yourself, but had admitted to the girls that you’d spent the night with Tyler and that he lived in Dallas and that you were going to see where it went. The flight home was full of whispered shrieking and more questions than you had honestly had answers for at the time. The gaudy engagement ring was buried in the bottom of your toiletry case, acting like the tell-tale heart, blood rushing in your head every time you thought about it.

When you got home, you’d shoved the ring in your jewelry box, determined not to think about it, but found yourself absently running the pad of your thumb over the underside of your ring finger when you let your mind wander to Tyler.

After Tyler had returned to Dallas from his two week road trip - during which you’d basically internet stalked him and spiralled out quietly about not filling for a divorce right away - you’d finally decided to give it, give Tyler a chance. He’d texted nearly every day he was gone, sending stupid jokes or a picture of something he thought would amuse you. Worst case scenario, you filed for divorce and went through the process all over again. By the time Tyler took you out for dinner at a quiet dive-y taco place in Fort Worth where you could actually hear each other, both of your memories of the wedding night had returned, although yours were coloured in a hazy film that made the whole thing seem like a fever dream.

The little ceremony had been officiated by an Elvis impersonator, another Vegas cliché, a fact that you’d learned when Tyler had found another Polaroid in his wallet when he was on the plane to San Jose. You’d cracked up when he finally showed it to you in person - Elvis in the middle, clearly past his prime, with you and Tyler on either side of him doing your best air guitar? Maybe?

“I think I’m trying to do an Elvis hip swivel,” Tyler had laughed.

“Whatever it is, it looks like we’re both mid-seizure,” you’d nearly snorted your drink out of your nose. Looking at the photographs was fun now, a little warmth building in the pit of your stomach, not the tight, nauseous coil of anxiety that you’d experienced when you had first seen them.

Other wedding details were still a little hazy, like where you had picked up the rings or what exactly the ceremony had consisted of, beyond being declared man and wife and being told to kiss and cement your “burning love.”

(What you remembered and what Tyler made sure you didn’t forget was just how good you were in bed together. The four condom wrappers on the floor were not an anomaly with Tyler.)

He’d gotten you tickets for games, right up against the glass so he could skate by you during warmups and tap his glove against the glass to capture your attention. After a few games, once you’d decided to really commit to the relationship and were official within your friendship circles, he picked up the habit of blowing you a kiss, grinning when you’d blush.

He’s really good at his job and you’re only a little surprised to find that you actually love watching him play. It’s horrific watching him get hit or tossed into the boards, but when he scores a goal and celebrates in a big hug with his teammates you’re always the first one on your feet, screaming your head off.

You’d brought the girls to a game early on in your relationship and all three of them had been surprised at how comfortable you were in the arena and how quickly you’d picked up the rules of the game. It was hard to explain that you weren’t just trying to make a regular relationship work, but a whole marriage. The stakes were just a little bit higher than usual.

The league had a break for the All-Star Weekend in early February and Tyler had surprised you with a trip to Mexico, where you’d soaked up the sun and gotten to know each other better, giving him all the sordid details about your divorce and sharing stories from your childhoods over icy margaritas and more tacos than your body knew what to do with. He’d told you about his early career, his misbehavior in Boston and how much he loved being in Dallas. The long weekend was slow and lazy, leaving so much time for the two of you to really talk and get to know each other. The experimental sex in a hammock on the beach was the icing on the cake.

After that, it was like a switch flipped and all you wanted to do was be with him. Truthfully, you sometimes forgot that you were thrown into the relationship with a marriage and settled comfortably into dating Tyler, folding each other into your lives, moving in with him, telling him you love him and hearing him say it back, cheering him on when Dallas made it all the way to the Western Conference Finals before being bounced in seven games by, of all teams, the Vegas Golden Knights.

Summer break meant a road trip to Whitby to meet Tyler’s family. A drive that should’ve been two or three days took nearly a week because you kept making random stops to see the silliest monuments advertised on the highways. You’d nearly killed him driving through Illinois, convinced this was the end of the relationship and you’d have to pull the trigger on the divorce, and then he had surprised you by stopping at a corn maze and getting lost in it with you almost immediately. Your stomach had hurt from laughing with him and making out like teenagers.

The trip to his hometown had been beyond fun, getting Tyler to show you his childhood haunts and seeing all the baby pictures of him with his mom telling you stories too.

On the drive back to Dallas, halfway through Oklahoma and in the middle of the night, while you’re pulled over on the side of the road to look at the stars, Tyler asked you to marry him. Again.

This time you had the moment committed to memory, the way Tyler’s hands had been shaking slightly with the black velvet box popped open in his fingers. The way Tyler’s speech rambled, like he hadn’t prepared anything or had forgotten his words just as he started talking, explaining how your relationship had started in an unconventional manner, but he couldn’t picture his life without you now. The way you’d started crying almost the second he had turned to you on the hood of the car with that gorgeous ring glinting at you in the moonlight and how you hadn’t stopped until he’d slid the ring home on your finger and kissed you like he’d never kissed you before.

Over the months, the wedding plan shifts and changes, from a summer wedding so you can have a real ceremony and party, the whole nine yards, to what it actually ends up becoming - a quiet inside joke with the two of you in order to keep your anniversary date, a New Year’s Eve party for your closest family and friends to be surprised at midnight when you and Tyler recite your vows.

It’s much easier to plan a party in six months than it would’ve been to plan a wedding.

Jamie Benn, Tyler’s best friend and the dark haired man in Vegas you had initially thought was just you seeing double, is tapped as the officiant, getting ordained online and getting really into his role, not knowing it’s basically all just a front. He just loves that he’s the only one in on the secret, constantly wearing a shit eating grin any time any of your other friends discuss wedding plans for a summer wedding that’s not going to happen.

“I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces,” you admit, hooking your hand in the crook of Tyler’s elbow and letting him lead you out to the car. He does a double take when he notices your hand.

“What’s that?” He taps on the ring nestled on your ring finger. Your original wedding ring from a year ago had been replaced with a real diamond, still an oval, but smaller and more tasteful. But that’s not what you’re wearing right now.

Your lips twist up in a sly smile. The huge, gaudy cubic zirconia is back on your finger, your second engagement ring tucked safely in its box in your drawer. “It didn’t feel right to get married without it,” you admit, flexing your fingers against his arm so the fake gem will sparkle.

Tyler’s laugh is contagious. “Everyone’s going to ask about it,” he warns you.

“Let them,” you shrug. “I want to wear my original ring on my anniversary.”

Hours later, when the surprise has been pulled off and Jamie announces that Tyler may kiss his bride, you fall into your husband’s arms, kissing him with all that you’ve got.

Fireworks go off outside the venue, the countdown to midnight at less than a minute.

“Happy anniversary, wife,” Tyler grins against your lips, quiet enough that only you can hear him.

Around you, the countdown continues, seconds ticking away until it’s January first.

“Happy New Year, husband,” you whisper back, laughing when he dips you back dramatically.

The party continues well into the early hours of January first, you and Tyler having had the foresight to rent out the venue for twice as long as a normal party. You spend the night flitting between dancing with your friends and cuddling up against Tyler’s side, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your cheek is pressed against Tyler’s side, the wrinkled fabric of his button down soft under your skin. Your fingers play with the buttons, slipping them from their holes one by one until his shirt is more unbuttoned than not.

Tyler smirks down at you, his hand rubbing an arc over your hip, rucking up the fabric with each upward stroke of his hand, exposing your thigh inch my inch. “Undressing me already, wife? Can’t wait for the wedding night?” He winks at you and you laugh into his chest.

“I think that ship has sailed,” you murmur, sliding your hand under the unbuttoned shirt and over the smooth skin of his stomach, ridged muscles dancing under your touch. You yawn a little, the weird combination of overtired and wide awake making your brain buzz.

Tyler holds you close and leans down a little to whisper in your ear, “want your anniversary gift?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “I thought I already got my gift this morning?”

“That was a wedding gift,” Tyler teases. “This is an anniversary gift, and no, it’s not in my pants.”

You giggle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “Shame, I like what’s in your pants.”

“I’ll give you that later,” he promises, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, I stashed it in the coat closet.”

He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you off, getting stopped every few feet by someone else who wants to gush about what a great surprise the party was. “Just couldn’t wait another minute to marry her,” Tyler grins in response every time, making you laugh at his side, the inside secret of your Vegas marriage a warm fizz in your chest.

When you finally escape off to the coat closet, you try to loop your arms around Tyler’s neck and lift up on your toes to kiss him. He obliges you happily, cupping the back of your head and giving you a searing kiss before pulling away. You whine, “I thought we were sneaking off for a wedding night quickie?”

“I literally told you that your gift wasn’t in my pants,” Tyler laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would you think I wasn’t being serious?”

Your hands find their way underneath his shirt again, fingertips digging into the muscles of his back, and drawing yourself closer to him. “Because I wanted you to be kidding,” you reply. “A little coat closet quickie would be a fun way to start the year.”

“And normally, I’d agree, baby. But I think you’re gonna like this gift,” he leans forward and reaches behind you, giving you the opportunity to press your nose against his collarbone. When he pulls back, he has a fairly large, flat wrapped package in his hand.

“What’s that?” You ask, taking the gift from Tyler as he leans back a little, shoulders resting against the wall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The package is lighter than you thought it would be.

He nudges your foot with his, “open it.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you chew at your lower lip. Neither of you had really discussed the fact that it’s your anniversary or gift giving and now you’re a little embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. You sway a little on your feet, fingers ripping a little at the corners of the paper until it crumples under your touch and the corner of the gift pokes through.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t care. It’s kind of something for both of us anyway,” he says and you wait for the little joke, the tease that you can let him unwrap you later, but it never comes and that’s how you know your husband is about to make you cry with whatever this gift is.

You can feel Tyler watching you as you pull back the paper - leftover Christmas wrapping that’s so clearly been wrapped by a man, too much tape and messy folds. God, you love him - and expose a frame. It takes you a second to process what’s behind the glass, but when you do, you hiccup a little gasp and tears well at your lash line.

Behind the glass is your marriage license with last year’s date and your pair of wobbly signatures. The Polaroids you’d taken that night surround the license and you trace trembling fingertips over the image of you kissing Tyler on the cheek.

“Tyler…” your voice cracks on his name and he gives you a soft little smile.

“This year his been batshit insane, baby,” he leans into your personal space and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “But I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married.”

Tears are sliding down your cheeks and you nod, “I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married, too.”

His laugh is muffled by all the coats surrounding you, but it’s warm and it feels like home. He pulls you into a hug, the frame smushed between your bodies and digging into your stomach, but you don’t care. Tyler’s hand curls around the back of your neck and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your wrist, black mascara smudges streaking across your skin. You giggle a little wetly, “I’m such a mess, oh my god.”

“Everyone will just think you dragged me off so you could have your wicked way with me,” Tyler teases, smirking at you.

“Coat closet quickie for the newlyweds,” you reply, grinning. You settle the frame on the floor, the back of it leaning against your leg, and really wrap your arms around Tyler’s neck, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. The spice of his cologne invades your nostrils and you press your nose harder against his throat, enveloped in his warmth.

Tyler rests his chin on the top of your head and hums, rolling his hips against yours lazily so you can feel the bulge behind his fly. “I could give you a real quick one, just to make sure you don’t have to lie,” he ducks his head to whisper in your ear, kissing at the hinge of your jaw. His hand slides down to graze your ass and you’re nearly ready to say yes, suddenly desperate for him, when a loud bang on the door has you jumping back, heart pounding from the shock, nearly cracking Tyler’s chin with your head. The frame bounces off your leg with your movement, falling to the floor with a little clatter that you hope isn’t broken glass.

“Fuck!” He yelps and you clap your hands over your heart, gasping. “Jesus, who is it?”

Jamie’s voice is choked with laughter as it comes through the door. There’s a slight slur to his words too, as he shouts, “stop fucking on everyone’s coats, we’re doing body shots.”

Your jaw drops open and Tyler rolls his eyes at the interruption. He bangs on the door with a hand and shouts back, “fuck off! I’m trying to spend some time with my wife.”

“Actually,” you say slowly, a little smirk forming on your face, “body shots could be fun…”

“Yeah?” Tyler lifts an eyebrow at you, palm flat on the door.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a wicked grin, “you know I like the way champagne tastes on your skin.”

Tyler’s eyes shut like he’s in pain and your gaze slides down to see the bulge in his pants grow. “You’re a fucking menace and I’m so fucking glad you’re my wife,” he mutters, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you out of the coat closet, nearly knocking Jamie over in his hurry, your shrieked giggles drowned out by the music from the party.

The next morning, afternoon really by the time you finally open your eyes, you wake up with half of your body draped over Tyler’s completely naked one. His hip and thigh is securely wedged between your legs, his morning wood hot against the outside of your thigh. One of your arms is in the sleeve of Tyler’s button down, the rest of the fabric draped over your back like a blanket. The hangover pounds at your temples and the sunlight blinds you and it’s such a deja vu moment you almost think you’re back in Vegas, right until the moment Tyler’s hand twitches against your lower back and he rubs his bearded chin against the top of your head. You melt against him, sighing happily.

“Anniversary party slash vow renewal every New Year’s Eve?” Tyler rasps against your hair, sliding his hand up your spine.

You hum into his skin, “as long as you get me electrolytes and a greasy breakfast on January first, I’m in.”

“How about a headache relieving orgasm first?” Tyler rolls you gently onto your back, already kissing a path down your body. You shiver with each brush of his lips and your legs fall open for him to slot himself between them. He rests his chin on your hip bone and looks up at you with a soft look in his eyes that doesn’t match the hungry smirk that curves his lips.

“What?” You ask, angling your neck to look at him, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. There’s a little streak of glitter against his temple and you brush your thumb over it, wiping the smudge away.

He shakes his head a little. “Just thinking about this past year,” he lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “How fun it’s been, how glad I am that we did the surprise last night.”

“Getting soft on me, Seguin?” you tease, poking at his side with your foot. He wiggles away a little from your touch, ticklish even though he won’t admit it.

“You know I’m anything but soft for you,” he laughs, nipping at your skin. “Let me prove it.” He presses a kiss against your hip bone and then lower and then there’s no more thoughts, just you and Tyler and the rest of forever stretching out in front of you.

[tuiccim]

Though I Have Never Read It (Part 6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2434

Warnings: Angst, Eva being adorable.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

Though I Have Never Read It Masterlist

When you had dropped off Eva at school, you were reminded that today was a half day for her. You decided to get your favorite drink and go shopping rather than returning to the compound just to turn back around a short time later. As you were browsing, you came across the most adorable bathing suit for Eva. It would make her feel like a mermaid and you decided that some time in the pool would be a great way to spend the afternoon. It would tire Eva out enough that she would sleep well for Mark when you dropped her off to him that evening. He was sure to be worn out from his trip. His job was a good one but demanding at times. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing. Looking down, Mark’s name appears on the screen. You answer with a smile, “Hey. Were your ears burning? I was just thinking about you.”

“Hey. Really? What were you thinking?” Mark asks.

“I was going to take Eva swimming this afternoon. She’ll be good and worn out when I bring her home, so she’ll sleep well for you. What time do you think you’ll be home?”

“Around 4:30. Does that work? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick her up?”

“No, I don’t mind. I’ll pick up some dinner on the way to you and you can tell us about your trip. We’ll be there around 5:30 to give you some time to settle down,” you reassure him.

“You’re the best,” Mark says quietly. 

Hearing something in his voice, you’re compelled to ask, “Is everything okay?” 

“You know that woman I told you about? That I was thinking of introducing Eva to?”

“Yeah.”

“She broke things off. When I brought it up, she seemed put off but I chalked it up to nerves but she called last night and ended it. Said she didn’t want to be a stepmom,” Mark says dejectedly. 

“She couldn’t figure that out before she started dating you?” You ask, annoyed at the woman.

“She said she didn’t think we were that serious. I guess I misread things,” he lets out a deep sigh, “I’m so out of practice.”

“Or she led you on. Either way, I’m sorry, Mark. I know it was hard to step out like that again,” you say kindly. 

“Thanks. Anyway, how about you? Getting any practice in?” Mark’s usual jovial voice comes across the line as he tries to shake off the emotions.

You laugh, “No. I’ve got too much going on right now to go out looking. Someone will have to fall in my lap.”

“Or sweep you off your feet,” Mark chuckles. 

“Right. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. Safe travels.”

“Thanks. Later,” Mark signs off. 

You feel bad for Mark but a part of you is also a little relieved. Another woman in Eva’s life wasn’t an easy thing to swallow and part of you had hoped his relationship wouldn’t work out. It wasn’t fair or right but sometimes emotions are irrational. You knew you couldn’t expect Mark to stay single forever but you hoped whoever came around in the future could be a friend who would respect your relationship with Mark and Eva. 

Shaking yourself out of the depressing thoughts, you check the time and finish making your purchases. It was time to pick up Eva and, for some reason, you couldn’t wait to see her.

–

“I don’t know what to do,” Bucky looks between Sam and Steve. 

“That’s a lot. I wonder why she never said anything,” Steve looks to Sam as if he has the answer.

“Do you think Tony knows?” Sam questions. 

“She’s closest to him but I don’t know. She keeps things pretty close to the vest,” Steve says. 

“There’s more,” Bucky says weakly. He had told them about that night at the cabin but he hadn’t told them about the next morning. Haltingly, he mumbles out the rest, eyes red rimmed and unable to look either of them in the face. 

“You remembered that or that was a nightmare?” Steve asks to clarify.

“Both. It was so real, it had to happen,” Bucky glances up but his gaze falls back to the floor. 

“Buck…” Steve shakes his head and looks at Sam for help. 

“You can’t trust the nightmares, man. You remembered the night when you heard her voice but you remembered the next morning during a bad dream? You can’t trust that. It might have happened that way but it might have been different than you remember. Or it didn’t happen at all,” Sam reassures.

“That’s true. It could all be jumbled with other memories. Are you even sure that it was her at the cabin? I mean, maybe your mind is trying to fill in details it can't remember and using her because you like her,” Steve conjectures. 

“You… you know about that?” Bucky asks.

“I guessed,” Steve shrugs.

“Man, everybody guessed. You practically stare a hole through her. You have that staring problem, remember?” Sam tries to lighten the mood. 

“She’ll never want to come near me now,” Bucky says. 

“Only one way to know, man. You gotta talk to her,” Sam says matter-of-factly. 

“I can’t,” Bucky blanches. 

“Sam’s right, Buck. That’s the only way you’re going to know for sure. She’s a good person. She’ll tell you the truth,” Steve encourages.

“She has Eva right now. She won’t want to talk about this with her around,” Bucky demures.

“Buck, it doesn’t have to be right now, but you need this. You need to know for sure what happened,” Steve says firmly. 

“Uhhhh, I hate to be that guy but…” Sam looks at the two. 

“What?” Bucky huffs.

“This happened seven years ago?” Sam confirms.

“Yeah.”

“And Eva is six…” Sam trails off with a look at Steve and Bucky, waiting for them to fill in the blanks. 

Bucky’s face turns white as he stares at Sam and then turns to look into Steve’s shocked face. Regaining his voice, he stutters, “Eva… she… no, she can’t. She can’t be mine. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, swallowing hard as his mind runs through the possibilities. 

“Do you think that’s why she didn’t want to tell me? Do… Do you think she lied to Mark about Eva? No, she wouldn’t… No, there were other options. That would be crazy,” Bucky mumbles to himself, lost in thought. 

“Crazier things have happened, man. I mean, who ever thought we’d be fighting against aliens, androids, and wizards,” Sam tries to pull them out of their stupors with a bit of humor. 

“One way to know for sure,” Steve says, giving Bucky the look. 

“Damnit,” Bucky growls.

–

“Jump to me, Eva Diva!” You hold your arms out to her from the shallow end of the compound’s pool. 

“You’ll catch me?” Eva asks. 

“Of course! Come on. You can do it!” You encourage her. 

Eva contemplates for a second but then that glimmer comes to her eye and you know she’s ready. Taking off running, she flies through the air and into your arms with a large splash. Laughing together, you spin her around in the water. She was a good swimmer at only 6 but she still had some apprehension about jumping in at times. 

“You did great. Wanna try again?” You ask. 

“Yeah!” Eva swims to the edge and you help her up to the side. Her bravery grew with each jump and you had retired to sit on the pool stairs while you watched her play. You turned your head to the sound of the door sliding open to see Bucky coming through with a strange look on his face. You felt your stomach knot. 

“Hi Mr. Bucky,” Eva calls. 

“Hi Eva,” Bucky smiles at her, staring for a few seconds with head tilted as if studying her. 

“Do you sink because of your arm?” Eva asks.

“Eva! That’s not a nice thing to ask!” You admonish gently. 

Bucky chuckles lightly, “It’s okay. I can swim with my metal arm but if you get crazy and knock me out, yeah, I’d sink.”

You bite your lip to keep in your laugh but can’t help smiling. 

He crouches down near Eva on the side of the pool, “But you wouldn’t get crazy around the pool, right? We gotta be safe.”

“Right! Watch me jump in! I can do it all by myself,” Eva hefts herself over the side of the pool and does a cannonball that splashes over the side. Your laugh escapes you at Bucky’s surprised face as he shakes off the water. 

“Nice jump, kid,” Bucky stands and makes his way over to you, “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” you exit the pool and grab a towel while keeping one eye on Eva. 

Bucky tried not to stare at you as you emerged from the water. He had never seen you in a bathing suit and didn’t want to seem like a creep. Especially, knowing what he’d done to you. You turn to him with an expectant look but apprehension curls in your belly. 

“I… Did… I-” Bucky falters. 

“You remember,” you say quietly. 

Bucky stares at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, “So, it did happen?”

You nod, slightly embarrassed, “Yes. Look, I promise we can talk about it and I’ll answer any of your questions but tonight after Eva is gone, okay? This isn’t a 5 minute by the pool discussion.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Bucky starts to turn away but his eye catches Eva. “But there is one thing I have to know now.”

“What’s that?” You look at him clearly confused. 

“Eva…” Bucky looks at you expectantly. 

“Eva? What- oh my God,” you gape at him as realization hits you. “She’s not yours. Oh my God, she’s not mine!”

“What?” Bucky exclaims. His head swivels between you and the little girl. 

“She’s not mine. She’s not my child. She’s my best friend’s daughter. Oh my God! You thought… I’m not her mother,” you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, realizing you are babbling. 

“You’re not?” Bucky asks. 

“No, I-” you scoff in frustration, “It’s a long story. I love Eva as if she’s my own. I’m her godmother and, to help Mark out, I take her every other weekend or so.”

“Your best friend?” Bucky asks. 

You shake your head and look over at Eva, “Brain aneurysm. Eva was four days old.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Look, I’m taking Eva home and having dinner with Mark tonight. I should be back around 8. I’ll come find you,” you reassure him. 

“I’ll be in my room. I mean, you can find me there. Not that we have to talk there. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Bucky trips over his words. 

You look at him askew, “Um, no, that’s fine.”

“Watch me!” Eva’s squeals as she leaps off the side of the pool and does a twist in the air. 

“That was great! Show me again,” you grin at her. Before heading back to the pool, you look back at Bucky, “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Yeah. Tonight,” Bucky leaves, forcing himself not to look back. 

–

You might have tired Eva out a little too much. She was droopy eyed as you drove to her dad’s apartment but you kept her talking so she’d stay awake. She was already washed up and in PJs. All she needed was some dinner and to brush her teeth to be ready for bed. Plus, she’d get her second wind as soon as she saw Mark. 

“Hey, hey!” You call out as you let yourself into the apartment. 

“Hey! There’s my girl!” Mark grins as Eva runs into his arms. He lifts her for a big hug and holds her as he leans to kiss your cheek. “How is it going?”

“It’s good. Eva and I went swimming and then we picked up your favorite for dinner,” you smile.

“Thai! You guys are too good to me,” Mark enthuses. 

“We wanted to make you happy, Daddy!” Eva hugs his neck again. 

“You’d make me happy even if you brought me dog food,” Mark jokes. 

“Ewww!” Eva giggles as Mark sets her at the table. 

“You really are the best,” he affirms as he gives you a quick side hug before sitting. 

“Well, it’s my favorite, too. So, win-win,” you laugh as you set drinks at the table. 

“You didn’t happen to get-”

“An order of fried wontons and steamed dumplings, no. I would never… forget those,” you mug a face at him as you set them on the table. 

“You shouldn’t make faces like that, it might freeze in place,” Mark winks at Eva as he teases you. 

“No, it won’t, Daddy! That’s silly,” Eva giggles. 

Dinner goes by quickly with Mark carrying most of the conversation with funny stories about his trip. Somewhere between the last dumpling and the sticky rice dessert, Eva’s fatigue starts to show. She starts whining and, eventually, Mark carried her to the bathroom to brush her teeth before he laid her in bed. He didn’t make it to the end of the story before she was out cold. You smiled as you watched them from the door. He bent down to kiss her forehead before heading out and softly closing the door. 

“Thanks for keeping her,” he says softly. 

“Anytime. I love having her,” you reply. 

“Can you stay for a little while?” He asks. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Hot date?” Mark cracks.

“I wish. Awkward conversation I have to have,” you explain. 

“What about?” 

“The past,” you give him a look. He knew about most of your past. Although, you hadn’t mentioned Bucky to him or anyone. You weren’t sure why, but it had been something you kept for yourself. 

“Ugh,” Mark groans, “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Can I call you tomorrow?” Mark asks.

“Of course. You know you can always call me. Is everything okay?” You search his face. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Mark smiles softly. 

“Okay. Night, Mark.”

“Good night.”

Making your way to your car, you wonder what that was about. Mark wasn’t usually enigmatic but tonight he seemed off. Different somehow. Or maybe he was just tired and you were reading things into it. Either way, you need  to save your energy. It was time to have that talk, time for James and Bucky to be reconciled, and time for you to finally have some closure about the night that changed you more than you wanted to admit. 

Part Seven

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[juhaknyeonies]

wonwoo who loves you with all his heart

genre: angst

a/n: idk i js had thoughts ab how wonu would be the perfect husband, hes so sweet

j.ww | masterlist

jeon wonwoo who loves you with all his heart

wonwoo who was your closest friend you could always go to when you were stressed out of your mind during school

wonwoo who cheered you on believing you could get into your dream university and when you didn’t he comforted you

wonwoo who helped you move out to an apartment in a different city and made sure that the apartment was safe and wasn’t bad quality so you would live without worries

wonwoo who looked out for you when you occasionally went partying but you ended up just hanging out with him the entire night

wonwoo who would follow you around to make sure your safe when the both of you go to new places since you were in a city you’ve never been in

wonwoo who finally confessed to you when you graduated university and you kissed him when he felt all flustered during the confession and tripped on his words

wonwoo who promised to be by your side forever and hasn’t broken that promise since

wonwoo who truly believe your the love of his life and so did you

wonwoo who owned a nice house and asked you to move in with him

wonwoo who helped you get a high paying job because you didn’t want him to feel like he had to do all the work

wonwoo who you married 2 years into your relationship and had the blessing of your parent because they liked him alot and always hoped you ended up with him

wonwoo who started working harder than ever when you got pregnant and celebrated when you ended up with twins

wonwoo who was by your side holding you hand when you gave birth

wonwoo who loves his two girls with his whole heart

wonwoo who made sure his girls were always fed and made sure you always got enough rest since he understood how hard parenting was

wonwoo who was the most perfect partner

wonwoo who cried for his daughter when she got sick and told her that she would get through it

wonwoo who was devastated when she died during surgery and everything was tough

wonwoo who stayed by your side when you felt distant after the death of your daughter

wonwoo who tried his best to fix the distant relationship between you and your other daughter after the passing

wonwoo who helped you through your depression even though he couldn’t even look you in the eye when it got so bad

wonwoo who was now fully taking care of you while your other daughter studied her life away at the university of her dreams to take her mind of off what happened years ago

wonwoo who forgave you when you did the unforgivable and held your limp body in his arms

jeon wonwoo who loves you with all his heart even after death

[carrie-organa]

Here’s How I Would’ve Ended Ted Lasso

My version includes:

actually acknowledging Keeley’s importance and making Roy not a creep.

actually calling Ted out for his weird ass behavior. This guy is depressed and no one ever asks him about his horrible self esteem issues.

Here, take it before I go insane.

Ted’s Storyline

The team would talk about Ted’s decision and there would be a debate about it. Sam and Jamie agree that he should go home to his son (for different but obvious reasons). Colin and Isaac believe strongly in found family and don’t understand why Ted choosing his son has to mean him abandoning them. Jamie’s perspective is changed. They have a good point.

Rebecca’s storyline in general was odd this episode. Her constantly reaching out to Ted and him shutting her down is so stupid and at odds with their relationship.

I would’ve had Ted explain his decision when she’s giving him her “You go, I’ll go” speech. Talk about his dad and bring up the 9/13 connection. WHY WAS THIS NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED.

Ted saying that not only does Henry miss him, no one here needs him anymore. He’s given them every tool he can think of and there’s nothing left for him to do. There’s nothing else he can give them.

side note: I think this is really at the root of Ted’s issues and I’m flabbergasted that no one calls him on it. He only feels like he should stay in situations where he’s needed. He never stays somewhere because he wants to be there. He’s the traveling salesman of optimism.

Rebecca: You’re right Ted, maybe we don’t need you to remind us to have hope or to believe in ourselves. To reach for happiness. But just because we no longer need you does not mean you are not wanted. Are you happy here? Ted: It’s not that simple. Henry— Rebecca: Yes, I know about Henry, and I completely understand your concerns. I’m asking you if you’re happy here. You, Ted Lasso, the man, not the coach or the father. Are. You. Happy. Ted (bursting with it): Yes. Of course I am. I never thought I’d have an experience like this in my life. It doesn’t seem real. It feels like I fell asleep and I’m going to wake up in exactly the same place I started when I woke up. But I can’t leave Henry. I can’t abandon my son because I like my job. That’s not fair to him.

Ted’s weird detachment would’ve been addressed during the game. The team’s first half wasn’t effected by them crying over Beard’s video but rather by Ted’s refusal to coach them anymore.

Ted: I’m not gonna give y’all a pep talk. Jamie: why the FUCK not? why are you checking out? (puppy dog eyes) what did we do wrong? Ted: deer in the headlights. Turns to Beard and Roy for help. They don’t offer any. They’re wondering the same thing.

No one is disputing that there’s an issue with Ted’s situation. It hurts to be away from his son, it hurts Henry to be away from his dad. HOWEVER — the only solution isn’t to go home and leave everyone behind.

Ted makes some kind of analogy to ties in football games. Sometimes there are no-win scenarios and you just have to accept it. Roy: that’s bullshit.

The episode is about Ted losing sight of his own philosophy and the people who love him reminding him of it. Restoring his sense of belief and optimism. Telling him not to accept a no-win scenario.

The RoyKeeleyJamie of it all

Roy’s obsession with getting Keeley back when she keeps pushing him away is cringey. Someone needs to ask him why he’s being so insistent. I choose Rebecca.

Rebecca: if you don’t explain yourself right now I’m sending you to HR. I’ve never seen you act like this.

After Jamie/Keeley hug

Roy: what were you talking to Keeley about? Jamie: none of your business, mate. Roy (still an insecure bean): Are you guys…getting back together? Jamie (furrowed brows): No? I just asked if she would go on a business trip to New Zealand with me. Make sure I don’t get thrown out of the entire country hitting on the Prime Minister. Roy (unable to help himself): She’s not PM anymore. Jamie: Hm. Shame. Well, she’s still fit. Jamie makes it clear he’s not interested in starting anything with Keeley, after Mom City he knows he really needs to work on himself before he can date anybody. The perspective is very much side-eying Roy, who has decided to ignore all of his issues.

WHY HAS NO ONE ASKED KEELEY WHAT SHE WANTS.

Roy and Jamie still go to a bar. Still end up at Keeley’s door. But this time not because they were fighting over her (because cringe. even though both of them have feelings for her, they respect her autonomy). No, this time, Roy got fucking pissed and he’s being a sad sack and refuses to go home so Jamie followed him to Keeley’s to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.

Jamie: Roy, mate, let’s go home. We’ll get a kebab on the way. Roy: No, I just…I just need to know what I’m doing wrong. Please. Keeley: Roy… Roy: If you just tell me then I can fix it! Keeley: It isn’t you! (off Roy) It’s not. I promise. I just…I keep ending up in these intense, whirlwind relationships, and I can’t jump into another one again. Not yet. Not until I know it’s going to end up differently. Because I swear to god, Roy, if I lose you again (tearing up) I will not survive it. I barely survived it the first time. Roy: me too… Jamie (cannot handle uncomfortable situations): Yeah me neither, if I’m honest. (off looks from them both) WHAT? You were both so sad and quiet. Well, this one’s always quiet (gesture to Roy) but it was different. It was weird. I saw him crying in his car once. Roy: I was not crying in the car… Jamie: Yes you were! I saw you wipe a tear! Keeley: BOYS! (they’re exhausting. it’s late. she wants to stop being ambushed into these emotional conversations). something about how her type is clearly smoking hot, intense brunettes (check the math — Jamie, Roy, Jack). Preferably by a cheeky Jamie as he leads a quiet Roy to an uber.

The season has not set up Roy and Keeley to get back together. It just hasn’t. But I think it has set up Keeley to acknowledge how much Roy means to her and to explain why she’s skittish about getting back together with him right now. I think she wants to give him a chance, it’s just going to take some time.

I’d like to see a scene with just the two of them where Keeley asks him not to give up, please. Because that’s Roy’s issue, he quits while he’s ahead and he gives up because it’s easier than getting really hurt. He’s putting himself out there, and I love that because growth, but I think there needs to be an acknowledgment that he’s gone about it wrong.

Roy: I know that I’ve been a right fucking twat with all this badgering and I apologize. I know it’s all too little, too late and you’ve moved on. I do want to be friends, if you’ll let me. I just can’t handle another year where you’re not a part of my life. It’s unbearable. Keeley: It really was. Roy: If you want to get coffee sometime, or something (call back to when he asked her out in S1), just let me know. It won’t be a date. Just as friends. Keeley (nodding, equal parts relieved and disappointed): Okay. Roy walks away, they’re in the car park. Keeley calls his name and runs up to him. Kisses his cheek. Obviously there’s still something there, but they’re just gonna have a different start this time. A slow build, rather than an intense start.

Miscellaneous Complaints:

I would’ve added at least another 20 minutes to the finale. How the team reacts to Ted leaving. And I think he should leave, I think he should go back to Kansas and there should be a little time jump. Michelle tells him she knows he’s unfulfilled, Henry saying he misses visiting him in Richmond. This decision is good for literally no one when you actually see it through. It’s a nice gesture but ultimately it’s meaningless.

The way Nate is just there is so unsatisfying to me. He’s such an important character in the show and the finale paid him dust.

What happened with Bex and the other girl when they spoke to Rebecca? There was no resolution there.

BEARD AND JANE ARE NOT COUPLE GOALS. Why does the narrative simultaneously acknowledge that she straight up sucks but never give Beard the push to leave her???? I just straight up do not get it.

In conclusion, I see the vision but the execution was horrible and I don't understand how this is supposed to stick the landing. I genuinely believe they'll announce a Richmond spinoff, especially given Ted's note on Trent's manuscript. Although I do not think that the team's future is anything like the one Ted dreamt about on the plane. Those were the wishes he had for them. I look forward to reading the fics where he's dead wrong and Rebecca drags him back by his moustache hair

[kywaslost]

A Dangerous Moment - Newt Scamander

A/N: I’m writing this for @newtscamanderimagines because they asked for someone to write this and I absolutely love this idea! Hope it turned out alright!

Request: Reader is female (15) and she absolutely loves all of the creatures he owns. However, one day something happens. One dangerous creature attacked her making her depressed and way too sad and scared to go back in his case. Cried all month etc. Tickles for cheer up?

Newt Scamander would tell his brother that he was at first afraid to let his little sister, you, to stay with him at first. You were only a teenager, 15 years old. He didn’t know how you’d feel benign around his creatures all the time, feeding them and interacting with them. But he gave you a chance, letting you move in with him and traveling with him as long as the trip wasn’t too far.

You surprised Newt, however, during your first night at his home. After you had gone to bed, Newt placed his suitcase down on the floor in his bedroom and climbed down into the zoo that was his suitcase. But after a few hours of sleep, you felt something climb on top of you and sit on your legs. You stirred, trying to move your legs but the weight was too heavy. When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see a creature sitting on your legs.

“Hi,” you said gently, sitting upright slowly. “You’re a Demiguise, aren’t you?” The creature looked at you with wide blue eyes, then reached its long arms out to you. You let the creature wrap its arms around your neck and legs around your waist, then you stood. Slowly you made your way to Newt’s room. “Are you Dougal?” You asked the Demiguise and it nodded softly.

Newt wasn’t in his room, but you spotted his suitcase and opened it slowly. Making your way down the ladder, you felt the Demiguise grip you a bit tighter. You reached the bottom and your eyes widened in aw. There were magical creatures everywhere. You could see an occamy nest in the distance, and a thunderbird, too.

“This is awesome!” you exclaimed.

Dougal unwrapped himself from you and fell to the ground, taking your hand in his as he dragged you through the case. You followed, looking around at all the creatures as you were making your way through the case. Soon enough, you could see your older brother feeding mooncalves, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The wizard caught a glimpse of you through the corner of his eye, and did a double take, “Y/N? Why are you down here? You shouldn’t be here!” He abandoned the mooncalves as Dougal let go of your hand and climbed onto Newt’s back. “You could get hurt!”

Your eyes dimmed slightly, and you lost some of your smile. “I’m sorry. Dougal woke me up. I brought him back here and he led me to you.” You looked away from your brother. “I’m sorry, I’ll go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.”

You turned to walk away, but said one thing before you left. “Oh, and the Nifflers are sniffling. I noticed while Dougal brought me back here. You might want to check that out.”

“Wait.” You turned back to your brother, hair falling in your face and hiding Newt slightly. “You know what some of my creatures are?”

You moved the hair from your eyes and nodded. “I read your book, Newt. And sometimes I read articles about them.” You shrugged, turning away again. “But it’s no big deal. Just let me know if you need any help. I know a few things.”

From that night on, Newt let you work with him and his creatures. He had rules, though. He had to be with you whenever you were working with a dangerous creature, or one you didn’t know how to handle. Over time you were allowed to work with almost all of the creatures in Newt’s case, though.

You loved your new ‘job’ so much. You got to work with creatures as well as spend quality time with your brother. Everything was perfect until one night. You were feeding the nifflers before turning in for the night, having already fed the other creatures that Newt allowed you to tend to. As you were scooping handfuls of weeds and shrubs into the nifflers’ feeding bowls, your wand fell out of your pocket and rolled a few feet away. Thinking nothing of it, you got up from your kneeled position at the bucket of plants and walked over to your wand.

You noticed a hole in the ground near where your wand landed. You spared it a quick thought, noting how you didn’t remember seeing that hole there earlier. Then you kneeled down to pick up your wand.

You felt it before you saw it. A stinging pain coursing through your body, radiating from your hand. You cried out in pain, falling back on your butt as you gripped your hand to your chest. You could see a creature scurrying away out of the corner of your eye. You hadn’t ever seen it before, and you were sure you knew every creature in Newt’s case by now.

The pain quickly became too much to bear and your screaming was getting louder. You couldn’t sit up, tilting to the side and collapsing on your back. Your vision was fading, but you could hear something off in the distance. Through your faded gaze you could see Newt running towards you, then he was beside you.

You couldn’t remember much after that.

You wouldn’t go back into Newt’s case after that night. Even now, two weeks later, you haven’t even been able to look at a creature without bursting into tears and going into a panic. The only one you could stand to see was Picket, but only because you had been around him for years.

Newt was on edge, he’d admit. He wasn’t sure how to help you. He was so petrified when he heard you screaming that night. He thought you were being attacked by Grindlewald and his followers. But then, as he was running to you, he saw one of his venomous creatures running away from where he could hear you screaming.

You were pretty much out of it by the time he got to you. You were still conscious but Newt knew what creature had bit you, judging by the wound on your hand and said creature running past him earlier. There was no one attacking you, which was somewhat of a plus. But that didn’t change the fact that Newt was scared out of his mind. He knew how dangerous that creature was, and he wasn’t even sure how it had escaped its enclosure, but that was another problem for another time.

Newt had to pick you up and carry you back to the shed at the entrance of his case, quickly digging through all of his remedies and medicines to find what would help ease the pain and fight of the venom from the creature that bit you.

Once you recovered, you wouldn’t step foot anywhere near Newt’s case. To be honest, it saddened him that you no longer wanted to help him care for his creatures, but he understood why you were so afraid. The one thing he didn’t know how to handle, however, was the fact that you rarely left your room nowadays. He’d come in, bringing meals for the both of you and eating with you., but that was all he really could do. You spent a lot of time crying, he could hear it through the walls. You didn’t speak much anymore, either. Newt wasn’t sure if your actions were out of pure fear or if they were unknown side-effects from the treated venom.

He tried talking to Thesius, but his brother wasn’t much help. In fact, Thesius wasn’t happy with Newt for letting you around his creatures. In fact, he said, “Newt. This is your problem. Now you fix it.” What a beautiful brotherly support.

Eventually Newt had had enough. You needed to at least go outside and see some sunlight. You were looking worse and worse every day and he couldn’t stand seeing you like this. So one afternoon he gently knocked on your door and entered your room.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted quietly. “Can you please come outside with me? You need to see some sunlight.”

Your red puffy eyes glanced up to him. You had been crying again. “No thank you.” Newt sighed, lowering himself to sit beside you on your bed. He looked upset, and you couldn’t help but think that it was because of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you,” Newt admitted. “I know you’re afraid of my creatures now, and that’s ok. But please, you need to take care of yourself and I’d like you to at least see some sunlight.”

You shook your head slowly. “No. There could be creatures out there.”

Newt took a moment to think, then grinned slightly. As he turned to face you, you tilted your head in confusion. “What?” His movements were too fast for you and you had no time to defend yourself. Newt pushed himself forward, forcing you to lay down on the bed as he pinned you down. Then his fingers glided over your sides, causing a loud laugh to burst out of you. You tried to push Newt off of you and he continued ‘torturing’ you but it was no use. He was much bigger and stronger than you, and you didn’t stand a chance against him.

Newt continued to tickle you until you couldn’t breathe and he was concerned you’d begin to hyperventilate. Your brother finally leaned back, giving you room to move away from him, still giggling. “Why’d you do that?” you asked through gasping breaths.

Newt smiled softly. “Because I’m tired of seeing you so upset. If you won’t go outside then maybe at least I can get you to smile here inside.”

You scooted over to sit next to your brother, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Newt. Hopefully I’ll get comfortable enough again to work with your creatures soon.”

[rune-tisms]

I NEED TO KNOW THE BACKSTORY OF REESE PLEASE

NO WAY OMG SOMEONE CARES ABT MY STUPID INSERT OC IM SO HAPPYYYY

i literally wrote a whole google doc about him i’ll just paste it here lmao

cw for a suicide attempt (not detailed though)

reese has lived in gotham for his whole life, but when his parents died in a car crash when he was 12 years old, he was promptly moved to the gotham city orphanage. it was there that he met edward nashton. they didn’t immediately become friends, as reese had become quite the trouble maker and frequently got into fights with the other children, but edward warmed up to him eventually. reese was the only one who actually spoke kindly to edward, which caused edward to get somewhat attached to him. once they became friends, reese quickly got very attached to edward and they were practically inseparable. reese even stopped getting into fights and found himself able to better cope with his loss due to having edward around. they would remain friends until reese was 16; their friendship would end with a nasty argument that removed both of them from speaking terms. it would begin with edward wishing for some space from reese, and reese feeling hurt by this and lashing out by accusing edward of being the reason he has no other friends at the orphanage, and from there it would just get worse and worse until it ended with both of them storming away from each other and never speaking or even being within 5 feet of each other ever again.

reese would go on to immediately join the workforce, never keeping jobs for long but making enough money to afford a shitty apartment in the slums of gotham. his mental health declined significantly and he even attempted suicide when he was 23, but was unsuccessful. the trip to the hospital caused him to become even less financially stable, so he had to take up multiple jobs at the same time, and this in turn worsened his mental health even more. he scraped by every day, barely a shell of a person, until one day he stumbled across one of the riddler’s online clues and managed to get into his community. reese found hope in the riddler’s promise of a real change, and found himself obsessing over who the person behind the mask really was. riddler had practically saved his life by pulling him out of his depressive stupor, so naturally his damaged brain latched onto him and pulled him into a parasocial relationship with this strange online figure. however, he was far too anxious to try and form an actual connection with the man or even make himself a prominent figure in his community. he settled for snippets of the riddler from his livestreams and posts, all the while wishing they could meet in person. it’s likely that, subconsciously, reese picked up on similarities between his childhood friend edward and the riddler, though he never was able to make that connection outright until edward was caught and detained and his identity was revealed on the news. as riddler enacted his plan, reese was unable to find it within himself to care that riddler was a murderer; he was in too deep already. he was simply another follower. it’s not as though reese wasn’t inclined to violence himself, anyway.

regarding the batman, reese isn’t very interested in him, and is, in fact, more jealous of him than anything. he wishes that he was doing something that could cause the riddler to be as interested in him as he was in the batman. in fact, reese often fantasized about being the batman himself, simply because he wants to be noticed and loved by the riddler.

during the flooding of gotham, luckily reese’s apartment complex was far enough away from the sea wall to suffer minimal damage. it was, however, at this point that reese began to question his loyalty to the riddler, but by this time it’d already been revealed to him that the riddler was edward nashton. he was able to sympathize with edward and his cause even more due to knowing him personally, and so mentally excused all of his actions. besides, it would be immensely painful for reese to discard his obsession since it was practically the only thing keeping him alive; edward/the riddler was the only thing that mattered anymore.

he begins to daydream about freeing riddler from arkham, but he knows he’s not smart enough to actually achieve such a feat. he hopes edward can free himself, and since edward has always been smarter than him, has hope that he can actually do it. this is where reese is at currently; waiting for edward to escape so he can finally reunite with him after all this time.

i hope you find it interesting anon thank you so much for asking :D

also, this is only one possible backstory for him, i have too many ideas 😭 if you wanna know more you can totally dm me :3 or just send another ask ofc!

[nerdynatreads]

 ☆☆YouTube | Tumblr | Instagram | Storygraph ☆☆

book review || The Haunting of Alejandra by V. Castro

video review || ARC Reading Vlog — The Haunting of Alejandra and Yours Truly

~Thanks to Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of The Haunting of Alejandra in exchange for an honest review. ~

Oh, wow, this doesn’t shy away from the heaviness this book is going to be covering as we open our meeting with Alejandra and see how much she’s struggling with everyday tasks. Her depression has become so debilitating that she has a hard time taking care of her children and her shitty husband who guilt trips her for struggling. She’s come to resent her relationship with him and is now beginning to have visions of a woman in white. I deeply want to give this woman a hug and encourage her to get help— which thank god, she does. The therapist she finds is also Mexican American and they connect over the stories of La Llorona and La Catrina, which gave some depth to both pieces of folklore I wasn’t aware of.

Prior to moving for her husband’s job, she’d been trying to reconnect with her birth mother and her culture that she wasn’t able to experience while growing up in the foster care system. I really love that she’s also trying to share the things she’s learned with her oldest daughter, Catrina, and am hopeful to see more of their relationship as Alejandra heals. The showcasing of generational trauma was exquisite. Each of the women in this family line’s perspectives felt similar and yet different enough to keep them distinct. We start with the first woman in the family line to interact with the demon. Her voice is just as somber and bitter but still stands apart from Alejandra’s. In all perspectives, though, La Llorona’s visits are so eerie and unsettling.

The plot itself is character focused as we watch Alejandra’s journey to learn more about her family line, and the troubles that have followed them, and work to heal from her own struggles so that she can save her children from suffering similar fates. I really adored the discussions around motherhood and identity in this story, the way these women took hold of their fates and made what they wanted up them. I felt just as empowered by their stories as Alejandra. The horror we see is in the visceral and gory descriptions of our character’s experiences and are amped up most when we see La Llorona, but I wanted more. There were a few moments that had me making disgusted faces, but nothing particularly memorable about the horror. I did, however, really like the final perspective and how it twisted the usual tale of La Llorona, showcasing her in a more sympathetic light.

My biggest complaint throughout this was the dialogue didn’t really seem authentic or flow naturally. Conversations feel long-winded or just unusual to how someone would speak. I also would have liked a bit more explanation of the demon in the end, it felt unresolved in the end and like a cop-out wrap-up.

4 / 5 stars

[justkeepdancing-nemo]

Finding Nemo: How To Land

“I’ve said several times that I’m afraid of falling but not landing. And the difference between falling and landing is that landing means that you can take off again...So, no matter how desperate the situation is, if we choose landing instead of falling, choose not to give up, and just land, we’re ready to fly again.” -Min Yoongi 

**

Summary: Robbie rats out Nemo to Marlin. They go on a road trip to bring Nemo home. Takes place December 14. tw: anxiety, depression

Part One: Failing Nemo Part Two: Something Else 

@robbie-ryeo 

@moon-yeongtae 

@baenxietydad 

Marlin x Robbie Texts

Marlin: [deleted] idk why I’m bother—

Marlin: have you heard from Nam-min

Marlin: Olaf called and said he skipped his exams and isn’t in the dorms. He hasn’t answered me

Marlin: what do you know?

Robbie: Im going to assume this is Marlin.

Robbie: Hello to you too

Robbie: Ugh, he left, though and he told me about it. I know where he is but I was hoping he would be back by now :(

Marlin: And nobody thought to tell me my son disappeared aiya this is great, I bet Tae knows too, eo?

Marlin: Tell me where he is. 

Robbie: he's actually with Tae I could take you there. 

Robbie: to be honest I want to go get him too

Marlin: of course he’s wife Tae, who else would encourage him to run away at least you’re more responsible 🙄

Marlin: So it’s far away, mm 

Robbie: yeah they went camping. Where are you I can come pick you up.

Marlin: In town, near the market

Robbie: I'll be right there

ROBBIE:

Spending the last what felt like 17 hours in the car with Marlin Bae had not been ideal. It wasn’t terrible, but the offhand comments about his driving were…annoying to say the least. Was it really so bad to obey traffic laws? Yes, he understood that perhaps they were in a rush because seeing Nemo and making sure he was okay, those things were important, but if they died on the way to the campsite who did that benefit? 

Anyway, they were here now and Robbie pulled into the nearest parking space and shut off the engine. The guilt bubbled inside of him as he wondered how furious Nemo would be with him when he saw him approaching with his father of all people. Maybe Robbie should’ve kept his mouth shut, but he was worried same as Marlin and well, anxiety did things to a person. Nemo would eventually understand. 

Maybe. 

“I think that’s Tae’s truck over there,” Robbie said, pointing to the familiar farm truck. “They can’t be that far–” 

Robbie abruptly stopped talking as he spotted Nemo. Nemo hadn’t seen him yet, but suddenly this felt like a much worse idea than it had two minutes ago. Nemo was clearly fine and smiling and—fuck he was going to hate Robbie.

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol was angry but it was less about Nemo skipping exams and running away than it was about…Nemo not talking to him. What was all that bullshit about how they were a team and in it together, huh? He let Nemo work instead of him handling it all with a second human job because Nemo insisted. But school, work, his Hollow duties, his social life…maybe something or multiple something’s had to give. He worried about as much. But always thought Nam-min would come to him and talk about it. 

He buried that anger because it was right to feel but wrong to express, and simply said. “Nam-min ah. Did you not think I should know my son is skipping town?”

Because look. The real root of his anger wasn’t that Nam-min must not be taking to school well, because he didn’t expect his son to be his mother. It was a little that Nemo didn’t tell him and a little that Nemo ran off and let Olaf tell him his son was missing. He was an adult and could make these choices. But an “Appa I’m dropping out and need a few days camping with Tae to clear my head” would have sufficed. Maybe he’d try to talk him out of it but he wouldn’t force Nemo to take his exams if he didn’t want to. 

Was he worried he would?

“You really should make your escape plans a little more logically.” He gently, sarcastically chastised him, moving to sit down next to him. 

He looked around at Tae and Robbie and sighed. “Both of you, forget how to speak Korean.”

NEMO: The first few hours into escape, Nemo felt amazing. Weightless. Free. For the first time in moons, there wasn’t something that he was going to have to rush to, or come from, or do. He was just going to curl up with Tae in the back of the truck and become a stranger in the middle of nowhere. He even turned off his phone, after fixing things with Robbie (kind of.)

And things really were good. That first night, they nicked into a gas station for snacks and cheap coffee. They listened to albums and talked and then went for a walk ‘round the campsite, just a short one, before falling asleep in the truck just like they talked about.

When the next morning came though, the pit in Nemo’s stomach had returned. His brain kept buzzing, telling him he was making a huge mistake. He was trying to ignore it though, because what was the alternative?

He and Tae were gonna go make smores– yeah, this early in the morning, why not?-- when Nemo’s choices caught up to him.

He spun around, eyes going wide. At first, his brain shortcircuited. How was Appa–? That didn’t make sense! There was no way he would even know that Nemo was gone!

Then, he saw Robbie lingering over his shoulder and everything clicked into place.

Nemo, at first, ignored Appa entirely as anger twisted his features. “You told him?!” Nemo shouted past Appa, staring at Robbie. “What the fuck, Robbie?!” 

ROBBIE: 

Robbie’s first instinct was to duck behind a tree as Marlin started casually strolling up to Nemo without a care in the world. Nemo wasn’t scary, obviously–Robbie loved him very much and he was so sweet and cute–but also he was a little scary and Robbie was actually sort of…impressed? Terrified? Of what Marlin was doing. It was probably all of the gnawing guilt making Robbie feel this way, honestly, and it was warranted. 

Nemo proved this when he immediately turned toward Robbie with rage in his eyes and yelled. 

And yes, there were definitely situations where Robbie would never betray Nemo like this, but this situation was a little bit different. Nemo was doing a very big thing right now–a very big thing that could potentially have very real consequences or spiral out of had very quickly if Nemo was left alone to overthink things–and telling Marlin was the right thing to do. 

Unfortunately. 

So, when Nemo yelled at him, Robbie didn’t cower or make himself smaller or let himself succumb to his guilt. Instead, with a sad look in his eyes (because hurting Nemo was never good or easy or something he was proud of), he just nodded. “I’m sorry Nemo, but he was so worried about you. We are both worried about you.” 

NEMO: 

Nemo wanted to shove Robbie. 

He wanted to kick Robbie.

He wanted to use his wind to send a blast of damp leaves into his face. 

All these cruel fantasies swirled in him as his fists curled, and the wind picked up and whipped at Nemo’s own hair. But just because Nemo wanted to do these things– punish his boyfriend for ratting him out, for ambushing him, for caring– that didn’t mean that it would make him feel good, or even get him out of the trouble he’d got himself into. No matter the size of the tantrum, he’d been caught.  And so as quickly as the wind picked up, it died, the air stale and flat. 

Nemo’s face flattened out too. He sent a glance toward Tae. “I’ll be back,” he mumbled. 

Then he stalked past Appa. “We can talk over here,” he said. 

He didn’t look at Robbie again. 

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol followed after Nemo, his expression blank save for a concerned furrow of his brow. 

“Nemo,” He began coolly. “Just one question. Can you even explain yourself?”

Or was he well and truly off the deep end, eh?

NEMO: 

As Nemo walked away, he carried his anger with him. It was a hot and comforting thing– bigger and easier to deal with than Nemo’s pain, his guilt, his worry. But it was also as fragile and thin as a balloon. With just one sentence, Appa destroyed it. 

Can you even explain yourself? 

Nemo couldn’t. 

And just like that– his anger collapsed in on itself into all the rest of those things, the things that Nemo had been running from. His face screwed up, and his lip trembled, and he knew that he’d disappointed Appa. He’d wasted the opportunities that Appa worked so hard to give him. He was ungrateful. He was a loser. He was stupid. 

Nemo’s shoulders hunched over, his hands pressing over his face as he began to cry. “N-no,” he admitted. “No, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” 

He was talking about way more than just explaining himself. Right now, it felt like Nemo couldn’t do anything. 

MARLIN:

Rightly or perhaps wrongly, he preferred this version of emotional Nemo to the red hot angry Nemo. Angry Nemo lashed out and left little room for getting to the root of an issue. When Nemo broke down like this he was honest and Marlin could actually figure out how to help him. 

“Okay. Can you tell me anything about why you didn’t take your exams? And why didn’t you tell me uni was hard for you, eh?”

NEMO: 

“I’m sorry,” Nemo said miserably, still crying and hunched, hiding his face from view. Appa standing there, talking to him so calmly, only told Nemo that his thoughts were right. Appa was disappointed in him. He had failed, miserably. This was shameful. He was nothing like– 

 “I’m sorry. Y-you worked so hard to help me afford everything and I didn’t want to disappoint you. I wanted to be like her, but I’m not. I’m not smart. I just– it’s so much– I can’t finish anything. I’m always behind everyone. I should be good at it. Everyone else can do it and isn’t like this.” Nemo rubbed his arm over his red, puffy face. “B-but I can’t and I–I dunno why.” 

Why had Finn and Louie been fine? Why was Mim and Hunter and everyone else in his fellowship programme so smart? Why was it just Nemo who couldn’t finish the reading and who was so stressed and who couldn’t sleep and was in so much pain? 

MARLIN:

“Hey, no, none of that. I don’t care if you finish uni or not, I only care that you do what you want to do regarding the issue. I never expected you to be like your eomma.” Mu-yeol said gently. “You wanted to go to uni so I worked to make it happen for you. It’s okay that you’re struggling to adjust but it’s not okay that you’re handling it by just running away.”

He always did this. Sometimes it was maybe the right decision, but this wasn’t one of those sometimes.

Then again, what had Mu-yeol done when faced with his guilt, his shame, and his fear? He fled Korea and came here. They weren’t so different.

“There’s no such thing as a smart person, Nam-min. There’s people who are very good at certain things, but there’s no smart people. Surgeons and rocket scientists are just as capable of being complete dickheads as anybody else outside of their fields. Your area of skill is in dance and science, maybe not other areas uni is making you tap into and that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a stupid person.”

NEMO:

Appa talked very kindly– kinder than Nemo knew he deserved. 

And it was this kindness that made him cry a little harder. Appa was probably right, because Appa was right about most things. Wasn’t that how kids always felt about their parents? It’s what made standing up to them so hard sometimes. And it made leaving them hard too. For this entire semester, Nemo had tried to do his best, to be an adult without Appa’s help, but the truth was he didn’t think he’d been ready. 

“S-so what am I supposed to do?” Nemo asked– wanting desperately to be told the answer, for once. He’d really tried to figure it out himself, and he’d failed. Couldn’t Appa tell him the answer, just one more time?

MARLIN:

“Right. I think it’s very obvious you have three options. I doubt you’ll be allowed to make up your final exams, so one of these three things is going to happen and it’s up to you which feels right for you.” Mu-yeol said gently, reaching forward to pat Nemo’s hair. 

“One. You retake all your classes next term. Full time student. You stay in the dorms or you can move home and I’ll pay the housing contract severance fee. You might lose your scholarship but it’s okay. I think I can afford it next semester. Two; you drop out and come home. We can try uni again if and when you’re ready. Three; I don’t think they’ll let you stay in the dorms if you stay in school but drop down to part-time, but, maybe they will? If so you can choose to come home or dorm, drop down to part-time hours, and if you lose your scholarship I’ll cover it.”

A beat. 

“Also, you’re nineteen. I don’t expect you to have your life figured out or even know what’s going to be the right decision for you a month, six months, a year from now. But one of those options is the right one for you for the now. You have to pick which one, Nam-minnie, I won’t force you to leave or stay in school one way or the other. I presented you a middle ground of going part-time if neither staying nor leaving feels right. You don’t have to decide immediately either. Sooner is better. But you can think it over some.”

NEMO:

All three options stressed Nemo out.

He’d wanted to quit uni about 24 hours ago. He was just so exhausted, so exhausted that the only thing that appealed to him was what he’d done– gotten the fuck away from the campus, disappeared and become a nobody in some sparse campsite far far away. But of course, deep down, he knew it wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted a break. He wanted help. He wanted a fresh chance. He wanted all of his professors to tell him he didn’t have to take the exams (this was super unrealistic). 

If he dropped out, he’d never be a dancer, though. He knew that. A fairy like him needed the connections uni could bring. So he didn’t want to drop out.

Full time filled his brain with bees all over again, bringing back the panic so big, he could choke on it. Thinking about it made him wanna hop in Tae’s truck and drive even further away.

So– part time. Part time it felt like was the only actual option, even though he didn’t know what that meant or would look like, and if he had to leave the dorms– which was the only part of uni he’d really enjoyed so far– he’d be so disappointed. 

“Okay,” Nemo uttered in a small, defeated voice. “I’ll…think about it, I guess.” For the first time, he glanced back up at Appa, his eyes still puffy, leaking tears. “I really am sorry,” he said one more time. 

MARLIN:

“You have to communicate with me when you’re having a hard time. I can’t help you if I don’t know you need help,” Mu-yeol said gently, resting a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. 

He sighed. 

“Since I know you aren’t missing and are safe. Do you…want to come home? Or no?”

NEMO:

Confusion fluttered across Nemo’s face. The way this usually worked was– Appa took him home. It was that simple. Whether he had run away, gotten lost, or had to escape from his grandparents, Appa appearing always meant that Nemo had to get in a car or on a train and that was it. It could be comforting, in a way. No matter how nutty things got, Appa would arrive, and Nemo knew he’d be safe.

He’d never been given a choice before. Then again, he was 19 now. 

It still, sort of, felt like a trap. He knew what the right answer was. If he went back now, he could maybe take one of his exams– his contemporary dance exam. Which was just a paper, but it was a paper he’d written the most of. Maybe he could finish it, or turn it in unfinished, and explain. It was weird– this had always been an option, Nemo knew that, but only with Appa here did things feel easier to think about. Was it always going to be that way? No matter how old Nemo got? 

He still hesitated. “Home,” he said, after that beat. “..Tae needs to return the truck anyway.” 

MARLIN:

He nodded slowly and held an arm open for Nemo to curl up to his side. 

“Okay. Sounds good— and you tell me when you decide what we’re doing moving forward, okay?” Mu-yeol said, voice even as the calm spot in a river. 

“You’re an adult now, this is the part of life where you make the decisions. I’m just here.”

NEMO: 

But what if I don’t want to be? 

Nemo didn’t say it outloud. He probably didn’t have to, as he accepted Appa’s hug. The entire time they’d been talking, he’d wanted one desperately. He’d wanted one, actually, since he’d gotten injured, but there was a voice in his head scolding him, telling him, You’re too old for that. Too old to ask for help, too old to rely on Appa, too old to miss him. 

“I don’t feel like an adult,” Nemo confessed this, at least. “I dunno how to be one.” 

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol smiled sadly and played with the hair at the nape of Nemo’s neck, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I don’t either, kid.” He admitted. “I’ve been faking this whole adult thing for twenty-three years.”

Some years better than others. 

“You’ll get there too, as you get older.”

NEMO: 

Would he? 

Nemo doubted it. He wasn’t even sure he believed Appa, who was always the biggest and most adult-like person in a room, at least to Nemo. He didn’t think that would ever change. Even when Appa was depressed, didn’t Nemo still expect him to know everything? 

The future just felt like a complex problem that Nemo was never going to be smart enough to solve. That’s why he kept running from it. He had to stop though. If he ever wanted to get smarter – braver – more capable – to be anything like Appa. 

After a few more flits in which Nemo lingered in Appa’s arms and sniffled and wiped at his cheeks, he finally pulled away. It was time to go, he knew that. He trudged back toward Tae and Robbie, and only when he glanced up from the wet grass did he see Robbie looking at him – he’d probably been watching Nemo the whole time. 

Nemo’s face went red and he looked away. He probably should apologize to Robbie too, but he was too ashamed. 

And so he walked past him again and went to Tae. “We gotta head back,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” 

TAE: 

Tae immediately opened his arms and pulled Nemo in, turning so they were sort of hug-shuffling back to the truck. "Hey you didn't drag me anywhere I didn't want to be, okay? I love you." 

[jodilin65]

Another psychic moment. “$30,” I told Tom last night, and he looked at me quizzically. I said I didn’t know what it meant but it just popped into my mind. The next day, it turns out he got an AI training job that’s going to pay him $30. He has a week to do it, but he’ll likely finish it early tomorrow morning before I get up.

Yesterday was an easy date to remember since it was Linda Ronstadt’s birthday (she’s 78 now!), so I thought it would be a good day to start my next long trip from Finland to Greece. This way, I’ll remember when I started it. This trip is 2,194 miles long, so not quite as long as the last one. The only thing I have to be wary of is the fact that people are still experiencing crashing issues and losing their progress. So every five minutes or so, I’m going to get out of the app and then relaunch it. It sucks that they can’t solve this problem, but I’m sure they’re working on it. Anyway, I miss the excitement of aiming for borders. With short rides, you just do that ride, and while it may be fun, it’s over when you hit the finish line in just a day or two. I’m about 165 miles from Russia and will be going through 10 different countries: Finland, Russia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, North Macedonia, and Greece.

Yesterday we put the sound-muffling foam in one of the bedroom windows. We’ve got tension rods coming to hold it back because it wants to buckle. You can see it’s kind of bowed out in some places. We won’t really know how much of a difference it makes until we do the other window, plus we’re going to add stuff to the exterior wall. It will be a little while before it’s done. We need to order more foam tiles because we decided to double up in the window we just did.

We went to the store yesterday and I splurged on caramel and Cheetos, and I woke up a little tired this morning. I’m asking myself if it’s because of the junk or the melatonin I took. Getting gum seems to help my combination of TMJ and eustachian tube issues. It’s still not completely better yet, but I’m working on it.

I feel so bad for Maria and her daughter. Her daughter’s ex had her two kids while she was working, and they were in a car accident. The daughter died, and the son is fighting for his life.

As for my own mental health, I’ve been doing extraordinarily well, and I really hope it stays that way! I may worry about the everyday things in life just like everyone else, but I haven’t had any significant anxiety or depression in a while now, and like I said, I really hope it stays that way. After suffering so much for so long, I really appreciate every blissful moment.

I had a dream that we lived in a house with a block wall close to the bedroom just like in Phoenix. There was a door off of the bedroom, and I spotted a bear over the block wall in the next yard. It didn’t look like a bear really looks like, but I knew it was a bear in the dream. I quickly shut the door and was worried it would push through it because it didn’t latch very easily. Then I ran to close another door that was off of some kind of porch in back.

In the next dream, I made some kind of craft and sent it to Mitch and Adonis. Adonis said he loved it. In real life, I sent him a message on the account in his real name, letting him know Facebook won’t let me add him there because I get a pop-up saying it looks like I may not know him, even though there’s a comment from me from 11 years ago that I can see. I guess Facebook’s memory just doesn’t go back that far.

The last dream wasn't very good, although it wasn’t an all-out nightmare. I called Andy, who was thrilled to hear from me just as Tom was leaving to go back to work. Knowing he always hated working, I felt bad for him.

[ladyeloisee]

It was just us. Inside that messed up room. Standing close to each other, feeling only the breath of us. He tucks me towards him. I am wearing that black chiffon textured saree, pairing with a black three fourth handed t-shirt blouse, obviously making me look sexier than ever. He is in his black casual shirt, ironed stiff, with a light blue jean. We look at our lips for some time, and we kiss. We get into that. I wrap my hands around his neck and his hands are around my waist and moving towards my neck and we are into us. Feeling us deep. That longing of being away…

Damn, wake up. Welcoming you all to another set of stories, which I want to make up into something someday. Kahani Suno about my first flight.

It was on a fine June day that I decided to runaway, because I was stuck between my family without a job and found myself falling into depression. There I found that invitation, that woke my brain. My friend had sent his sister’s wedding invitation and has been constantly reminding about it. Well, I did want to go, but I know that I can't leave. God had given me some good souls far away, who is always there for me. Let's put this girl as S. so I texted S. “hey, I am planning to come there, can we hangout for a couple of days? I actually got to attend a wedding and got plans with that.” No wonder why I call her my friend. She was ready to accept my quick decision. She planned for a peaceful Pondicherry trip as well. Well, I always wanted to visit that place when I was living at Chennai, and it did happen. so, I was ready with a fake orientation plans at Chennai, to produce in house. Obviously, my mum wasn’t happy. And I don’t wonder about that either. My dad booked tickets for me. I boarded the train, madras mail from Coimbatore. God, every single time I board I could smell that freedom I am going to experience. That space of just me and my things. So, I boarded early morning, reaching there at Chennai by around afternoon. I was planned about just that day. I knew my dad is getting back to Coimbatore that night I had enough time to decide about the next day. The wedding is suppose to be on 12th of June. So a day more. Dad picked me up. He was packing up his stuff, and had my lunch, rested, he bought me a new handbag hoping I would get that job which I applied for their sake. And which I am currently doing out of little survival interest.

He, left at night, having a peg. Me and dad together had a peg and I ordered my food in his presence. I freshened up. There was a new bathroom inside this time, which made it more comfortable. A shower. Wow. I didn’t know about the means of transport to Pathanamtitta, which is there as the third district of Kerala. Bus, no, lazy to travel and a bit conscious about people recognizing me. Train? No, when would I reach. The last option left was flight. God! I ever got into the plane. I wanted to. I had been to airports. When I was a kid of 5 or 6, I went with my family to pick my uncle, when he used to work at the West. So, as in Malayalam, rendumkalpich, I went to Makemytrip.com and booked a ticket from Chennai to Trivandrum.

Well, that was such a quick decision I took. I had no other option left. I couldn’t miss him. Not this time again. I might get married. I might get trapped. So, I decided to do this.

will be continued....

[wonderingmindofabird]

the last entry was a year ago and i almost feel like the whole mess happened recently... not that this is about the texas trip. it’s not! i don’t believe it to be... i just was like i should journal again. it help get my feelings out and put them in writing in a weird way it was freeing.

i went to mexico a few weeks ago and i haven’t really talked about it because well what is there to say that i have thought about since then? i mean, does voicing it out loud that i didn’t know if i was going make it to this point in my life help? i honestly don’t know.

i went over it once and then everything clicked? idky but it felt like i was walking on eggshells for so long and so much it was waiting for the next thing and the next. making list and all that jazz. giving myself things to do to avoid feeling like i wasn’t sure how much time left.

when i was 16, i used to cut myself.

when i was 18, i didn’t want to live. but when i did survive another year... i made myself promise to make it until i was 21 and 25, just to see what would happen. not a dare. just a promise to keep going.

when i was 19, i was SA. i started to dislike causal touch as a result.

when i was 20-22 i was in a severe depression and debt and felt probably the loneliest i’d feel. i didn’t know if i was going to make it. i really almost didn’t. funny how time passes.

when i was 23 i enrolled back into university on hope and prayer and doubt. i developed an eating disorder. i fell in love and i hated it.

when i was 24-26 i was overworked and exhausted. but i had made it. i promised myself i have to live to see how 30 looked like.

when i was 27 i started my masters and was it became the beginning of the end of my feelings for gerald. he’ll never know how much he hurt me. i developed a different eating disorder. i also started a new job.

when i was 28-29, i finished grad school and a new look on time... but upon one failed interview i grew dismissive until one day in nov... i left home for the first time. i was terrified. i said goodbye to my final friend from hs... one of the longest friendship

when i was 30-33, i started my new job. terrified i’d fail and cried a lot. and my eating disorder got worse. alone and isolated. but now with a renewed sense of self... i was going to make it to 35. the pandemic happened. i bought a house, i got cats... i was diagnosed/misdiagnosed. i was so tired. not for the first time i didn’t know if i would make it. i said goodby to another longterm friendship. i lost myself wont and spent most the year in a depression. 

i am 34 now. at this moment. i am alive. and for the first time since i was 16 have not felt the need to make promises to myself to stay alive. i just live and exist in this world. i have been forcing myself to live in this reality where i need to check in with myself to make it through the next five year. i’ve told no one about it. i have lived in loneliness for so long with only my thought to keep me company...

idk what’s gonna happen. i do know that i don’t need to think about surviving the next years and just live.

[dorefasolsido]

5.

what is the one thing you remember most about January of last year? 

I wasn’t doing particularly great in January last year mentally, so not much really stands out. Maybe just that I went to my first live basketball game around that time because I felt I desperately needed a change of pace.

you look at the clock and it’s 11:11, do you wish?

Sometimes lol, but it’s more common to do that here at 22:22 or 00:00.

how do you think you will look 3 years from now?

Three years from now I’ll be almost 30 so I’d rather not think about that time lol. Buuut I doubt all that much will change. Maybe a new hair colour by that time?

once you graduate (if you haven’t already) are you leaving your hometown?

I did leave my hometown, though I frequently go back to visit my family and etc. But yes, not planning to go back to live there.

what is your dream job?

Writer/translator, which is what I’m doing anyway. But I think my genuine dream job is becoming a fiction writer, and I’m not quite there yet. I am happy that I’m in my dream field though.

what would be number one on your bucket list?

Hmm, probably visiting Japan just one time in my life.

how old do you think you’ll be when you make your will?

No clue, tbh. I’ve never actually given that much thought.

you get a text message. who do you hope it is?

I guess depends on who I feel like talking to at a given moment? Just not my editors, please :)))

are there any songs that you hear that just make you wanna dance?

I like dancing, so yes, plenty. I’m not good at it tho, but it’s fun.

do you get any of your songs from limewire?

No, and idk if I was too young for that or if it just wasn’t a thing here, but I only later found out it’s a universal millennial experience lol.

what’s the oddest thing you are wearing right now?

Not wearing anything particularly odd.

you and your best friend get in a fight. why do you think that is?

Most likely because I suck at communication sometimes, and the things I say may come out too blunt or not the way I want them to. I’ve been working on that, but being tactful is a skill that doesn’t come entirely naturally.

do you use the word “basically” a lot?

Probably, yeah.

do you use proper grammar or use IM talk?

Depends on the context; I try to use proper grammar as much as possible but I think abbreviations and internet slang is pretty fun too.

what is your biggest annoyance at the time?

Hmm, my friends and I are planning a trip together, but organizing everything is a nightmare because we’re all very indecisive. That in itself is something I can deal with, but the fact that no one ever properly communicates in the group chat is driving me crazy.

you see the person you fell hardest for. what do you do?

Nothing much, I’ve last interacted with that person for real 10 years ago, and I have no particular feelings for them. I’d say hi because we still know each other, maybe make small talk if we were in such a setting where that’s necessary, and that’s it.

have/are you depressed?

No, but I experience ups and downs like everyone.

did you grow up in the united states?

Nope

are you dreading tomorrow?

Not really, but I do have to do a presentation for my German class and I despise presentations.

do you call anybody ‘baby’?

Nah.

if your school had a winter formal on new years, would you go?

Never had those

where is the fanciest place you have ever visited?

I actually have no idea, not much of a person for fancy places

who is the one person you can completely be yourself around?

Maybe my sister? But to be honest, I don’t think there’s anyone I can be 100% myself around.

are your pop-ups blocked on your computer?

Yes

do you wear earrings on a normal basis?

Yes, I have the ones I’ve worn since I was very young; those are my lucky earrings and I never go anywhere without them.

how old were you when you realized that life goes on?

I can’t really think of a specific age or event

are your parent’s night owls or morning birds?

Definitely morning birds.

do you like to sing?

Yes, but I’m not good at that either lol

are there some songs that you will never understand the lyrics to?

Probably.

do you own a lot of picture frames?

Nope.

who is your favorite author?

Kafka and lately Sayaka Murata.

how many pillows are on your bed?

Just one

how is your hair right now?

In a ponytail because it needs a wash soon.

is your phone fully charged?

Nope, like half charged.

what’s your favorite thing about the holidays?

Food, meeting up family and some relatives I haven’t seen in a while, the general holiday spirit.

are you still in school?

Nope

how many days/months until your next birthday?

A little less than 4 months, omg

what is your favorite type of cake?

Anything with chocolate.

how many rings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?

None.

when will you next laugh until you cry?

Idk but just yesterday I was laughing so much reading some comments with my sister that I not only nearly cried, but nearly died of suffocation. I was in genuine pain lol

[passingdaysthings]

02.19.2023 -Finding Some Peace

Today is Sunday. 

I feel like a lot of things have been bothering me recently, and it really isn’t just my “friendship” with Taylor. I have been worried about my life and career as well. I feel like I just don’t know what I want to do with my life, and as of right now, I just want a job in my current field of interest to see if that is what I want to continue doing. My recent episodes of depression have been much more intense than usual, and my period skipped this month again. This happened to me back in October too because I was stressed about school. I also wonder if this has anything to do with Taylor, but I kind of only have certain moments of sadness when it comes to Taylor. The biggest thing weighing on my mind is money for upcoming trips and events I have planned. 

My current depressive episode has made me super fatigued even though I sleep a decent amount, and I have also been trying not to get too much sleep. I will take naps if I feel too sleepy though. I have also been going to the gym and working out consistently to make sure that I am not alone in my thoughts. I have been trying really hard to focus on school and other activities to make sure that my mental doesn’t get too bad. I did stop playing games though because it wasn’t fun, and it was making me really anxious. I think that time away from gaming has kind of helped since I don’t have to be self-conscious of stuff. I will also have a very event weekend coming up so I will most likely be spending this week playing volleyball and doing homework so that I am scrambling to get things done on the weekend like I usually do. It’s been really hard, but I only have 3 weeks left of this quarter. I just need to focus hard and finish with an A or B. 

Today, I made another step in ending my “friendship” with Taylor, and I deleted and unsaved all the pictures that we had of each other. I think this was the biggest thing weighing on my mind about our friend because it’s not something I do with my friend. We also haven’t talk about sleeping together in about 3 weeks now so that also helps. I hope that it continues that way so that our relationship can become one of normal best friends. This will also make things easier for me because then I don’t have to feel awkward when he says things to Victoria or ask about her. I can’t really tell if he likes her, but if he does, I feel kind of bad for him. Not all that bad because people feel how they feel, but I will still feel something because he is my friend. I think the distance will also help me feel more normal. There are definitely times where I want to pull out my phone and message him because something happens or I see something on Instagram, but I’ve been doing pretty well just letting go of that urge. 

Today has been somewhat decent. I did not feel all that depressed, but I am still fatigued. 

-P

[rametarin]

Woke up. Got angry.

Merry Fucking Christmas do not open unless you want to be depressed but I need to vent or I’m going to brutalize somebody.

Overheard my mom complaining to someone on the phone that because I was asleep and my brother was at work, my paternal grandmother showing up and saying they were no longer hosting big family Christmas get-togethers, “she’d never been so lonely.”

Bitch. Yes, it’s Christmas. However, you are the reason the only people I see in a given MONTH, are you and my younger brother. You outright refused to help me figure out my health problems when I needed them, you threatened me with complete financial and social abandonment to the point of homelessness if I got a job and DIDN’T just hand you every fucking dollar of income every paycheck, and you had absolutely no mercy, NONE, no care or thought, of how your ambitions to turn me into a helpless, friendless paypig would utterly starve and destroy any possibility of a social life as a teenager. I am nearing 40, now. You’ve maintained this social isolation by depriving me of anything on penalty of homelessness for 20 years.

I do not want to hear, “I feel so lonely :c” from you. You’re why my 20s were spent friendless and unmingled with only memories of hanging out on the internet and meaningless struggles you caused, both interpersonal and financial, because you were bored and upset your co-workers robbed you of dignity. You selfish, greedy, self-indulgent, disgusting PIG. You made me struggle solely because you felt powerless and because you felt making me powerless and penniless was the only way to keep me from leaving. You got your wish, and I tolerate you, but I absolutely abhor you for what you’ve done.

Merry fucking Christmas, I’m glad you feel isolated and lonely. After throwing thousands of dollars at your brothers and sisters just to have them spit in your face, LIKE WE KNEW WOULD HAPPEN AND YOU EAGERLY ANTICIPATED, OWING TO THEIR NATURES AS SELFISH PEOPLE, just for a martyr’s high of, “being a better person than them,” you holyer-than-thou shit, I can’t be too full of pity. Fuck around wasting money assuming your sons will cover every void in YOUR funds, this is what you get. You don’t get to make money out of thin air just by spending yours however you want and expecting US to make up the difference from our own blood and sweat. You violated this family’s health and prosperity just to moan in pain as worthless assholes YOU KNEW were worthless assholes, inevitably betrayed you, while you betrayed your sons to do it.

And I could forgive all of this, if only you hadn’t demanded I turn over a decades worth of savings from holiday cards simply because you thought I, “wasn’t contributing enough.” Which directly caused the loss of teeth from being unable to fix them. Simply because you were jealous I had any source of income whatsoever and, “wasn’t sharing.” IE, wasn’t feeding you 100% of any money I had. Just to spend it to spend it, just to spend it so I couldn’t have it.

So I’m glad you’re fucking lonely. I hope you spend your 70s lonely. And if I ever manage to get out of this fucking system you’ve created where I need money to leave but I need to leave to start making money, I’m going to make sure you’re lonely- if only of my presence. You’ve spent 20 years trying to bully, dominate and guilt trip people into obedience and fear and retaliatory volatility, you’ve made a decades cold pile of ashes of my social life or future social life, and you have the audacity to do the , “*giggles and flops next to you* “I’m booooored!” “ routine.

Assure I’ll be ten times more lonely than you at your age than you are now and then pout about how lonely you are TO ME. fucking worthless psychopath.

[crypticcodexcreations]

Reapers: Marcus's Death

This one got pretty heavy fast so! Warnings for: Cheating, Depression, and a death that at least borders on suicide. I hope I didn't miss anything.

“Sweetheart?” Marcus looked across the table at his wife, who looked up from her phone. “Hm? She didn’t put it down though and Marcus could see her glancing back to it, occasionally typing. “You’ve been… Distant recently. Is everything alright?” She nodded, going back to focusing on her phone. “Work’s sending me on another business trip.” He smiled at that. “Oh, that’s good, isn’t it? Do you think you’ll be getting that promotion you wanted, then?” All he got was a small nod as she finished her breakfast and stood, still texting as she headed out the door.

Marcus sighed, sitting on the bench in the park, hesitating to do anything. After a few minutes, he pulled out his phone, texting his wife. “Honey, this is hard to say, but.” He stared as the message sent before he was ready. “I’m not a doctor anymore. I’ve lost my job and my license. You seemed busy with work so I never had much of a chance to talk to you about it.” He bit his lip as read popped up slowly by each message. “I don’t know where those prescriptions in my name came from. I know that I didn’t write them.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure I could’ve ended up in jail over this. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I’ll be home soon. I know you’re about to leave for your trip, but it would be nice to be able to talk to you about this in person when you have the time. I don’t know what to do now, but I’m sure we can figure it out together. I’m sorry, I know I’ve let you down. I love you.” He sighed, waiting a few minutes to see if his wife would text back. Not a single message, but all of his were marked as read.

As Marcus entered the house, he realized that all the lights were off and there was no sign of his wife. “Honey? Are you home?” He checked his phone again. No new texts. He sighed, wondering where she could have gone when she had said she’d be home at this point earlier. Eventually he found himself in their bedroom, an envelope sitting on their bed, the only thing on it his name. He sat down, ripping it open and unfolding the letter inside. His eyes scanned briefly over it.

He didn’t need to read it all, and in fact, he couldn’t make himself. All that mattered was that his wife admitted to having fallen out of love with him quite some time ago. Her business trips were lies. He stared at the words on the page, barely able to comprehend them. All that mattered was that she’d admitted to cheating on him and was now leaving him for the man she’d been having an affair with.

He wanted more than anything that moment to be angry. Anyone else would be, wouldn’t they? But it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. He didn’t know how long he sat there before he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He tried not to let his voice shake as he answered it. “Hello?”

On the other end, he heard his best friend’s voice. “Hey Marc, heard about your job and your wife.” Marcus tensed, feeling a knot tying itself in his stomach.

“How would you-“ He cut off as the man on the other end continued.

“It’s a shame, but you know, I wasn’t gonna put my own name on those phony prescriptions. I’m not stupid you know. Those people paid good money for them though, and that’s the important part. Guess it’s over now though, with you gone. Eh, who cares. I get paid enough as it is and with your wife’s job, it’s not like it’ll matter much not to have the extra income. You got her letter, right? We’ll make sure you get the divorce paperwork soon enough. At this point we both just wanna get on with our lives. Maybe I can give her the kid you couldn’t, Marc. I’d apologize, but I’m honestly not-“

Marcus hung up, feeling the tears starting to leak down his face. He wanted more than anything to be angry, but he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen any of this coming. He found himself moving on autopilot, not really sure where he was going as his feet kept moving, carrying him down the sidewalk. He barely registered his surroundings, the chatter of other pedestrians meaningless to him as he found himself downtown. The letter was still clutched in one hand as he started to cross the street without looking. The last thing he heard was a car horn blaring.