#it's completely normal to go home after a night football game

[fazcinatingblog]

It's weird to think it's almost been a year since I met @jlawbenn (not including that time after a Trent helped destroy Essendon) it was an Easter Thursday and we were at fazzy's pub in Johnston Street and some idiot thought it was a good idea to go home after work then go to the pub and ended up getting to the game during the second quarter and the tables were full so Mark let us sit at his table but then that was the Irish table and

And we met fazzy

And we met Asian tram boyfriend after the game who was begging us to go out partying with him and kept saying it was too early to go home (it was like 10pm, he was so dumb and had Charlotte concept of time) anyway we've never seen that guy since or the Irish or

And since then, we've gone from annoying Irish people to annoying people at almost every Fasolo pizza, Sydney, Brisbane, Collingwood games, Collingwood game with g flip, Carlton games, Taylor concerts, Paul concert, Robbie concert, La Porchetta, ikon Park, a Collingwood game where a Trent was playing, a Collingwood vs pesto final, Taylor movie in Nick miller's Rd, Barbie movie in Glenn Maxwell Huntly road, numerous Macca's, several KFC's and

[barcaatthemoon]

turned on || alexia putellas x reader ||

a night out forces you and alexia to finally do something about your obvious attraction to one another.

alexia was awkward. you had known that long before you'd ever met the woman. the two of you were respective superstars for your countries, both the faces of your women's leagues. the news of the famed (y/n) (y/l/n) going from bayern to barcelona had shaken up the european football world. however, the events that would follow would do so once again, perhaps to a bigger magnitude.

you had been at bayern since their youth academy. there had never been another club for you, not even for a loan. however, when your contract with bayern ended, you had decided to look elsewhere. you loved the team, and the things that everybody was doing together, but you wanted a change.

barcelona had come knocking on your door the loudest. they were willing to shell out a lot of money, nearly three times as much as your old club. it wasn't just about the money, but you had to admit that it had a nice ring to it. there were things that you could do with this money that you felt would benefit your community much more than you just scoring a few goals during your games.

your first few months in spain had been difficult. you weren't exactly conversational in spanish, nor were you all that great with english. your teammates were patient with you, especially frido, ingrid, and caro. they were like your lifelines, none of them ever leaving you completely alone at training. unfortunately for you, they were all around enough to notice the way that you and alexia stared at each other.

"hmm, that's a very interesting shirt choice. it looks oddly familiar," frido teased as she grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt. you didn't give her little comment the decency of a response. yes, you had picked this outfit out because the last couple of times that you had worn it, alexia hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

"i think that our captain will like it. although, i'm not sure she'll appreciate the attention you'll get from it," ingrid said. you blushed a little as you turned away from them to finish getting ready. you had done your makeup a little bit edgier than normal. alexia seemed to like the darker look on you, at least that was what mapi had told you.

you checked over your outfit one more time before you followed your friends out of ingrid's room. mapi was flexing in the mirror, something that had both you and ingrid laughing at her. mapi ignored the two of you and continued, much to aitana's annoyace.

"let's go." frido wrangled everybody into her car, letting you have the passenger's seat. you were still getting used to things like the famous spanish affection and lack of personal space. befriending mapi through ingrid was a big help, but you were still even more awkward than caro in most situations.

at the club, you were immediately whisked away to the bar with pina, cata, and patri. they fed you shot after shot, which you enjoyed until alexia, irene, marta, and sandra pulled your group back from the bar. irene had been the one to grab you, but you didn't let that last for long. with some difficulty, you put yourself in alexia's grasp, allowing for pina to scurry off towards the dance floor.

"hi, oh wait, hola!" your accent was normally bad, but tonight, it was atrocious. alexia cracked a small smile at your accent. you returned it tenfold, absolutely beaming at her. "you are so beautiful. do you like my outfit? i wore it just for you."

"o-oh?" alexia questioned. her voice had cracked, something that you didn't miss, but chose to ignore. "you look very nice, but you shouldn't dress for other people. dress for you, i'd like any outfit you wore."

"that's not the point. i want you to take me home. i need to impress if you're gonna do that." you were slurring your words pretty badly, and alexia wondered how long you had been feeling like that. she wasn't going to get her answer though, not when you were whisked off towards the dance floor.

alexia didn't see you for nearly the entire night after that. you had been moving around enough to sober up quite a bit. alexia noticed that you didn't sway on your feet when you came over to where she was sitting. however, there was still just enough liquid courage for you to let alexia know that you wanted to dance with her.

"i think we should dance. you've been sitting here all night. even irene got up at least once." if it had been anybody else, alexia never would have even really considered moving. however, it was you, and unbeknownst to you, alexia had developed quite the soft spot for you.

at first, she told herself that she wanted to take care of you because you were younger than her and in a new country. however, much to alexia's annoyance, mapi pointed out several times that alexia's gazes towards you were never friendly. alexia thought that she was good at masking her feelings, but mapi was one of the few people in the world who could see right through her. it took a while, but alexia had finally admitted to herself, and an eerily excited mapi, her feelings for you.

"i'm not much of a dancer," alexia warned you. she had never been a good dancer, especially not sober. you weren't a professional or anything, but you were fairly decent in the scheme of things.

"it's fine, i'll take the lead." your words didn't exactly make alexia feel much better, but once the two of you were on the dance floor, she didn't do much thinking. you were just sober enough to know that this wasn't something that alexia normally would have agreed to so easily. you'd been around the team long enough to know that alexia rarely ever left the booth or table whenever the team went out.

"a-are you sure that this is okay?" alexia asked as you placed her hands on your waist. normally whenever you'd dance with the other girls, their hands were glued to your hips. it was a far less intimate hold, but your body craved a bit of intimacy, specifically from alexia.

"shh, don't think about it. just feel the music and move with me," you told her. it was fine for the first couple of songs, but then things slowed down dramatically. alexia's hands stayed right where you had placed them, but you weren't prepared to feel the press of her body against yours.

for someone who wasn't spanish, you were teased a lot for being touchy. it was always in good jest, and because of that, you often forgot how handsy your teammates could get. alexia was no exception, despite being the most reserved with her affections. you realized in that moment that alexia wasn't unaffectionate at all, she was just picky. tonight, it seemed that she had picked you.

"can i have one more dance?" alexia asked as she rested her chin against your shoulder. her face was partially buried in the side of your neck. alexia's breath tickled against your skin, something she couldn't have known would have you turning red in the face like it was. "please, i'm having fun with you. i don't want it to end just yet."

"i think i can handle one more." it was a total lie, but you didn't know it yet. the next song was more upbeat than the last, but alexia didn't move any further away from her. you could feel her hips press against your ass with each movement that she made. alexia was dancing with you like before, only closer now. it was reminscent of something that you hadn't experienced in quite some time.

alexia kept her hands around you even after the song had ended. the two of you made your way towards the booth, where several of your teammates were not sitting as well. alexia sat down first, and without hesitation, pulled you into her lap. they all quieted down at the sight of you, but neither you nor alexia missed the looks on their faces.

"problem?" alexia asked. her arm was snaked protectively around your waist, and as patri moved in closer, alexia's arm tightened. she had already been holding you tightly, but the addition of force managed to pull a squeak from you that unfortunately did not go unheard by anybody.

"the free show was nice, even if this isn't that kind of club," patri teased as she tapped on the tip of your nose. you swatted her hand away as you cursed at her in german. frido and ingrid's faces went red at your words, but they didn't let patri in on what you had said.

"what is that supposed to mean?" alexia asked.

"are you so oblivious that you don't see how turned on (y/n) is with her on your lap, capi? i mean, look at her. it's a shock that she's not squirming," cata pointed out. you grumbled as you tried to hide your hands. alexia looked at you questioningly, and when you refused to meet her gaze, she realized that there was a lot of truth to their words.

"you, uh… you… i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you… i mean…" alexia stumbled through her words unlike anything you had ever seen before. the girls at the table laughed at her, which made a bit of anger flare up inside of you.

"hey, it's okay. you didn't know," you said sweetly. alexia bit her lip as you turned in her lap and cupped her cheeks. "i asked you to dance with me. besides this isn't anything that won't pass eventually."

"aren't you embarrassed?" alexia asked. she looked really guilty, and you wanted to kiss the pout off of her lip.

"it's fine, ale. if you really feel bad, you can buy me breakfast or something tomorrow morning," you told her. alexia looked confused for a moment before the cheering and hollering of your teammates clued her in. with that, she quickly stood up and walked you out of the club and away from them. you both knew alexia wouldn't just sleep with you, but you were surprised when she let you come over and stay the night with her anyway.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone VI

Pernille Harder x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe:

Summary: Your first night alone in London

You don't go with your mothers back to the airport.

Their flight is late in the evening and they don't want to interrupt your sleep schedule.

So, after dinner, they say their goodbyes and leave.

Your apartment, which was once welcoming and warm, goes cold in an instant, like Magda and Pernille leaving has sucked all the warmth and sun out with them.

You just sit on your sofa in silence, unsure of what to do with yourself now.

You try to watch a bit of tv but it's all in English and makes you miss the familiar Swedish back home. You try to play a few games on your phone but you've been stuck on this one level for a few weeks now and get frustrated easily, throwing your phone down on the cushions next to you.

You think about reorganising everything but it's only recently been unpacked and you don't want to ruin all of Momma and Morsa's hard work.

You sigh, trying to relax back against the sofa but you just can't get comfortable, shifting around anxiously whenever you feel a hint of comfort. You back is ramrod straight and you keep glancing around like you expect someone to be in the room with you.

You get up, sighing. You don't know why you're suddenly so restless but you pace the length of the room before dipping into the kitchen. You've already eaten dinner and you're not actually that hungry but you still poke around in your now full stocked cupboards and fridge for something even mildly interesting.

In the end, you end up right back on the sofa, knee bouncing.

You reach for your phone again, just as in incoming call comes in.

"Hi, Momma."

Pernille's face fills the screen, happy and smiling. You can hear the hustle and bustle of the airport around her but you don't really care either way, even if you have to lean closer to the phone to fully hear what she's saying.

"We just got through security and everything," She says," Magda's around here somewhere trying to get some food. I told her that it's all overpriced but, you know her, she'll do what she thinks is best."

It's completely normal, the words she's saying, the almost teasing bite to her voice but it still makes your throat close up a little.

It makes you want to cry.

It makes you want to sob down the phone and beg her to come back. it makes you want to bow out of your contract with Arsenal and go home and quit football all together so you can stay with Momma and Morsa forever and never leave their sides.

But you don't do that because, deep down, you know you don't want to quit football and you know you want to play for Arsenal.

So, you force yourself to just look at Pernille's face, to memorise every line and angle and the shape of her features because you know that it'll be a while until you see her in person again.

"Well," You say, forcing your voice to remain unchanged, to not give away just how close you are to bursting into tears," You know Morsa. She'll try and swindle a discount somehow."

Pernille laughs, a fond eye roll appearing on her face that you memorise too. "I keep telling her if we just go to the lounge then we get complimentary food but she says that stuff is just fancy for no reason." She shakes her head. "Honestly, sometimes I think she likes spending money for the sake of spending money."

"She's got you to keep her in line though," You say and Pernille smiles.

"I suppose so." There's silence for a moment and then," Well, I just called to let you know that we're all checked in. Boarding won't be for another few hours and you should be in bed by that point."

"Are you giving me a bedtime?" You tease. You have to force yourself to tease because the thought of your mothers getting on that plane and leaving you in England by yourself is enough to rip your heart to shreds.

"Well," Pernille says," If that's what you think then I can't stop you."

You smile at her. "That's exactly what you're doing."

She smiles back. "I love you and we'll come and visit soon, okay?"

"I love you too, Momma."

You go through the motions of getting ready for bed. You shower. You change. You pull back the covers and slip in. You put your phone on charge.

Then...

You just kind of lay there, unmoving as you stare up at your dark ceiling. There's no other sounds in your apartment.

At home, there was always some kind of sound. Sometimes Momma clearing stuff away or Morsa talking on the phone. There was always something but now there's nothing.

You've never felt so alone in your life.

Some sort of foreign wounded sound spills out from your throat as the tears finally roll down your cheeks.

You don't think you can do this.

[flemingology]

finals over feelings ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: lessie disregards you and your relationship while studying for her finals

warnings: like very slightly angsty? r feeling disregarded in the relationship but it ends fluffy :)

wc: 4k

a/n: as much as I feel like Jessie would be a very caring partner, I see this could be something that happens irl lol. little nerd

Canada had failed to qualify for any tournaments over the summer this year. Jessie was gutted, she felt like she let her country down, especially as she had recently been made captain. Sinc's shoes were big ones to fill, and to fall short in the first summer under her leadership weighed on her.

Despite the cons about the football-free summer, there were obviously positives too. Jessie finally had a proper summer break, having two months off in which she could do what she wanted. Of course, Portland sent her training schemes that she had to follow. They included cardio, lots of mobility sessions and some light weight and strength training. Jessie still had to watch her food and just be mindful about anything she did, like she had to on a day-to-day basis throughout the season, but it gave you and her a bit more time and space to work with.

You'd gone back to Canada, accompanying Jessie on her two-week holiday back home. Her parents had welcomed the both of you with open arms and you could tell that your girlfriend really enjoyed a little getaway surrounded by home comforts. You slept in her childhood bedroom, visited all the places she used to hang out at as a kid and spent lots of time with her family. Almost every night was filled with board games and laughter, Jessie finally letting go and decompressing a little after a very stressful and tough season of football.

It was her first in Portland. She'd had a hard time settling in to her new surroundings initially, missing London and missing the familiarity of a club she had been at for a couple years. Everything was new for Jessie, and it overwhelmed her. New club, new country, new teammates, new apartment. You had moved with her – striking a deal with your boss that allowed you to work from America –, and as much as she appreciated having you by her side from the beginning it hadn't entirely settled her. A couple months in, when she also started to find her footing in the football and started playing more regular minutes, is when you finally saw she was growing back to her own self. She presented herself with more confidence on the pitch, and finally found her fun again in the sport rather than having a head hung low every time she came back from a training or match, claiming that she wasn't feeling good about the move and that she wanted nothing more than to go back.

Portland ended the season with a mid-table finish, nothing to bask about but the team and her were quite pleased with the performances they put on throughout the year. Now that Jessie was feeling more comfortable with her surroundings she was excited to get back going, but was also very eager to enjoy her two month break away from the pitch.

The two weeks in Canada flew by and before you knew it the both of you found yourselves back in your apartment in Portland. With 6 weeks left, Jessie decided she wanted to devote some of that time to the two courses of her degree she was yet to complete. She was nearly there, but hadn't found the time yet to study for two finals. It was normally busy all-year long and she would never really have the time to study for a final, but her free summer this year allowed her to pick it back up.

You knew how much finishing this degree meant to Jessie, school had always been a big priority of hers. Even though she loved the fact that she was able to make football her full time job, she often told you she found it unfortunate that she never really got to wrap up her degree like she should've, back in college. She wouldn't have traded her situation for the world, but you were happy for her that she would finally be able to wrap it up this summer. Jessie prided herself on her achievements in school, so you knew it would mean a lot to your Canadian to have an official degree in her bag.

So it begun. Jessie took up your spot in your home office to avoid any possible distractions, you moved your work to the dinner table. The house got very quiet throughout the days. Normally you'd have Jessie chewing your ear off about everything and nothing, talking about anything she'd come across in a book she was reading, on social media, on tv, etc. This time, though, it was eerily silent. Nothing could be heard in your apartment apart from the clicking of your keyboard and the occasional deep sigh that creeped through the door of your office, where Jessie was situated to study for her finals.

It was a new situation for the both of you, and it added a new layer of uncertainty on your relationship. You'd met Jessie when she played football in London, so you never knew what she was like when she studied. You weren't sure if she wanted you to be more or less present for her, whether she wanted you to do extra stuff for her or not, so it was a bit of a tricky situation.

It went by quick though, and before you knew, the final couple days of the three-week period were coming around. To say it had been easy would be a lie. Jessie retreated herself into your office for more than 8 hours a day, not coming out of there unless she had to pee or to go to bed. You knew it was gonna be hard to manage this new situation, but you didn't expect Jessie to be that detached from you and your relationship. As much as you understood that this was important for her, you couldn't help but feel the way you did.

You'd tried a couple things to connect with Jessie during the past weeks.

On most nights, Jessie only came to bed when the clock was nearing 12. You had your back turned to the door but you would hear when she came in, usually not able to sleep anyway when she wasn't in bed next to you. She would tiredly shrug off her clothes and put on some old football stuff and get in bed next to you, not bothering to check if you were still awake. By the time you turned back around and faced her in the hopes of getting a cuddles and kisses in, she'd be fast asleep. The early mornings and late nights were taking a toll on her, so she needed to get all the sleep she could get, rightfully. But to go to sleep without her goodnight kiss, wasn't something she would do.

By the time you woke up and were ready to start your day, Jessie had already gotten up. The first couple times you were taken aback by the way your hand was met with cold sheets when you rolled over, but you got used to it after a couple days. You got up and went about your morning routine trying your hardest not to disrupt Jessie from her studying. The first couple days you made her breakfast, but when you noticed she couldn't even spare a simple thank you or a kiss, you refrained from that too – lunch time was usually similar.

When you finished work around 4, you went for a walk. It's a habit you had picked up in your early days of living on Portland, when Jessie was usually at the club until 5 or 6. Especially now, you could use the time outside. It wasn't particularly because you needed to be alone – you practically were alone for 3 weeks –, but it helped you in clearing your mind. It was in those moments, when you could unwind yourself from the situation, that you could look at it with a more level-headed approach and could put into perspective the way Jessie was acting.

As the days rolled on, you noticed that Jessie was growing more and more tired. She came to bed later, alarms were set earlier and she didn't even eat the breakfasts or lunches you brought her. You knew she was dedicated and you certainly knew that she really wanted to do well on these finals, but Jessie was burning herself out and you wanted to find a way to stop that.

One night, while Jessie was out for a run – despite the studying, she still found time to stick to the training schedules as good as possible – and you were rotting away on the couch, you decided you could do something nice for her. You got up and made your way over to the kitchen, retrieving all the ingredients that you needed to make the soup that Jessie's mum always made for her when she was little. You figured a bit of home comforts would settle her down a little, and maybe you could even try and get through to her about how she was making matters worse for herself by barely sleeping and eating.

You played some soft tunes on the speaker in the kitchen and busied yourself with making the soup, time passing quite quickly while you were working on dinner.

You were just applying some finishing touches to the soup, adding a bit more spices here and there based on how it tasted, as you heard the front door opening. Jessie had made it back from her run and took off her shoes by the door, putting them neatly on the shoe rack. You heard footsteps padding down the hallway and moving towards the living room, deciding not to call her in just yet as she probably wanted to sit down for a couple minutes.

When you deemed the soup as just right, you retrieved two bowls from the cupboards and filled them with fresh soup. You'd made sure it was steaming hot, just the way Jessie liked it. You put the bowls on two trays paired with a couple slices of bread, before making your way over to the living room, where Jessie was still catching her breath from her run. She was scrolling on her phone and didn't hear you coming in until you sat down next to her, placing the trays down on the coffee table by the couch.

She looked at you with a grateful smile and you sat next to her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her ponytail. You pressed a soft kiss against her rosy cheeks, that were slightly cold at the touch. "I made you your favorite, figured you could use some veggies and a bit of home comforts," you said as you placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Jessie offered you a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she frowned. "This is nice, but I'm quickly gonna take a shower first. I'm sweaty and I'm getting cold", Jessie started. You had a hard time concealing the disappointment you felt upon hearing her words, trying your best to keep your shoulders straight when they dared to slouch.

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the rings on your hand before you replied. "It's warm now, you should eat Jess. You can shower after, it won't take long."

Your reply clearly fell on deaf ears, before you could even finish your sentence she had already gotten up and started making her way over upstairs and to the bathroom. "I won't be long. Thanks for dinner," she said before turning the corner and closing the bathroom door behind her.

You clasped your hands together in front of you and placed your elbows on your thighs, leaning on your hands and letting a couple minutes pass before you finally decided that you shouldn't let your bowl of soup go cold. As much as you were disappointed – and angry, probably – at Jessie, you knew you shouldn't let her demeanor ruin your night. You finished it all rather quickly, enjoying the food that reminded you of Jessie's home. You'd always felt really welcomed in her family and it was nice that you could do things like this that could remind you both of her childhood. On another day Jessie would've loved the fact that you made that soup, catering to her mum's recipe. Tonight though, it seemed like she couldn't care less.

You decided not to dwell on it too much and tried to take it in your stride, thinking she did appreciate it but really wanted a shower after her run. She didn't say she needed space, though, so when you had put your bowl in the dishwasher and put hers in the microwave for her to warm it up later, you went upstairs and made your way over to the bathroom, to see if you could potentially join your girlfriend in the shower.

You knocked on the door and heard a faint "come in," being said over the sound of the running water. You slowly opened the door and made your way inside, being met with the warm air of the shower. "Care if I join you," you tried.

Jessie turned off the water before she spoke. "I was just getting out, actually. I wanted to do a bit more work for school tonight and as it's already late, I should make it quick," Jessie replied. You nodded, but eventually gave her a verbal okay when you realized she couldn't see your face from behind the shower curtains. "Mhm, okay," you started, your voice a little shaky. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me."

You didn't await Jessie's reply before you made your way back downstairs and slouched down on the couch. You couldn't hold back the stray tear that made its way over your cheek as you started running through this evening's events in your head. You knew Jessie loved you. She loved you a ton, but she'd made it really hard recently for you to be aware of that. Tonight had been the worst it's been in over the past two weeks. She'd been distant, yes, but she had never turned down lunch or dinner before. Especially not when you'd make her something like you did tonight. As much as she'd spend most of her days away from you, if there was an opportunity to get some affection and be close to you, she'd grab it with both hands – which was the reason you found it weird she denied the opportunity to shower with you.

You heard Jessie emerge from the bathroom and pad her way over to your home office which was just across the hallway. You heard the door close and settled back down, deciding on watching some crappy reality tv to keep your thoughts at bay – not wanting to be an emotional wreck all evening because of how your girlfriend was acting.

A couple hours later, you felt yourself yawn and decided to call it a night. Your eyes widened when you checked your phone and the clock read quarter to 1. You hadn't realized it was already that late, you got caught up in your show and lost track of time. What worried you, though, is that Jessie hadn't left your office yet. This was the latest she'd ever worked and you were sure this wasn't a good move. Knowing her, she'd be up bright and early again tomorrow and if she wanted a couple hours of sleep, she really shouldn't be working this late.

You turned off the tv and made sure all the lights were out downstairs before you made your way upstairs. You tried your luck one final time with her, and while you were making your way over to the bedroom you took a quick stop at your office first. You didn't knock, just slowly opened the door and were met with the sight of your girlfriend's back, cladded in one of your old hoodies. You fully opened the door and leaned your body against the doorframe. "Come to bed, baby. It's late," you tried, in a soft voice. You heard a faint hum coming from your Canadian but she gave you nothing more than that, her eyes trained on the computer screen in front of her. Her final was coming up in a few days, she was cramming as much as she could but you were insistent that this wasn't the way she should be going about things. You approached her and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Jess, baby, it's almost 1," you rubbed her shoulder affectionately. "You really should get some sleep, you and I both know you and your brain will function better after a bit of rest," Jessie let out a deep exhale at your words.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm quite certain I know myself what's best for me. I just wanna finish this bit, I'll be in bed soon," you didn't miss the hint of annoyance that seeped through her voice. She didn't snap at you, but it certainly didn't feel good. You nodded wordlessly and let go of her shoulder, silently making your way out of the room before heading back to your bedroom.

A little over 30 minutes later, Jessie was finally done for the day. She had wrapped up the chapter she wanted to finish and turned off her computer, leaving the room and going downstairs for a drink.

She noticed the bowl of soup that was still in the microwave and silently cursed herself for having forgotten about it. She knew you'd put your work into it and felt bad about how she had just left it to go cold, leaving you to your own devices for dinner. She heated it up and sat down to eat it, making sure your work didn't go to waste. She made sure to leave her empty bowl in the dishwasher and not in the sink, being mindful of the way she left the kitchen so you wouldn't wake up to any dishes. It doomed on her that she didn't treat you right tonight and felt bad about it.

She quietly made her way upstairs, not wanting to wake you, had you already fallen asleep. The bedroom door creaked when she opened it, Jessie narrowing her eyes while they adjusted to the dark room. She could make out your figure under the covers, back facing the door, a sight she'd grown used to the last two weeks when she entered the bedroom. It was only now that Jessie was slowly realizing how unreasonable she'd been towards you these last couple days. You had gone out of your way and beyond to make sure she could study in the best circumstances possible, and she'd disregarded that completely – not just that, she'd disregarded you.

She wanted to make it right and as much as she knew that 1am wasn't the time, she couldn't let it linger on. Jessie quickly changed into something more comfortable and made her way under the covers as silently as possible. You had indeed fallen asleep, soft snores coming from you as you stirred when Jessie's side of the bed dipped when she joined you.

Jessie pressed a couple soft kisses on your bare back, one of her arms coming to lay across your waist as she pulled your body into you. You stirred, slowly waking up as your girlfriend kept on pressing kisses against your body. You slowly opened your eyes and let them accustom to the dark room. Your gaze fell on the alarm clock that was on the nightstand, the time now reading 1:42am. You figured Jessie had only just joined you. You wanted to give in to her touch and turn around in her arms, wanting nothing more than to revel in the affection she was finally giving you – but decided you should give her a hard time. She had disregarded you lately, and you should let her know that you weren't pleased with how she acted the last two weeks.

"Baby, I know you're awake," she mumbled against her back. You hummed in response, unwrapping her arm from around your waist and scooting a bit further away from your Canadian. The silence that fell hurt you, but you didn't want to give in just yet. "I'm sorry, love. I know I've not been the best girlfriend the past couple weeks," she started. Her words were the only thing that could be heard in the room now, no noise coming from traffic outside or anything inside the house.

She tried her luck again and pulled you back against her, breathing out a soft sigh of relief when you didn't push her arm away this time. "I'm sorry, really. I've been super caught up with my work and didn't notice how hard I've been disregarding you, disregarding us."

You sighed and turned in Jessie's arms, snuggling your face in the crook of her neck and waiting for her to continue. You wanted to be annoyed at her but couldn't turn away from the warmth of her embrace. "I'll do better, I promise," she pressed a soft kiss to your crown. "Thank you for the soup, I really enjoyed it."

You lifted your head from your neck and looked at her, her eyes noticeably watery despite the darkness in the room. "You had some?"

She nodded, sporting a small smile. "Yeah, it was nice. Thank you, really. For everything you do. I don't think I've really noticed how much you do for me until now. You've really kept me standing this past period and I've not thanked you enough for it."

You cast your eyes down, a sad feeling washing over you upon hearing Jessie's words. She gently lifted your chin with her index and middle finger and pushed your head back up, her eyes locking with yours. "I appreciate you, baby. So much. I'm sorry I haven't shown you that lately."

Jessie's eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and you saw how she tentatively started leaning closer. She left a little space between the both of you and left it for you to close, not wanting to cross any boundaries and kiss you if you weren't feeling like it.

You crossed the final bit of space that was left between the two of you and pressed your lips against hers. Jessie poured every ounce of love and adoration she had for you into the kiss, placing both of her hands on your cheeks and pulling you even closer. "I love you so much", she mumbled against your lips without breaking the kiss. You responded by kissing her harder, getting lost in the feeling of her lips against yours.

You only broke the kiss when you had to get some air, reluctantly letting go of Jessie's lips. "I love you too. I really do. And thank you for speaking to me about this," you started and took Jessie's hands in yours. "I have been feeling quite disregarded. I tried to put it down to just you being busy but tonight was a little too much."

Jessie nodded and acknowledged what you said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears that had fallen in front of your face. "I know that I've been going about this the wrong way and I acknowledge that. I promise I'll do better."

You couldn't help a small smile creeping onto your face. You were happy with how tonight turned out, eventually. "I love you, Jess. Thank you."

"How about we get some sleep, hmm? I'll stay with you in bed tomorrow morning for as long as you want me to, I promise."

Your eyes lit up at the prospect of morning cuddles with Jessie, eagerly nodding and agreeing with her proposal. Your girlfriend chuckled at how excited you were at the simple idea of cuddling with her.

You pressed a final, tender kiss against Jessie's lips before you turned back around and wrapped her arm around your waist. Your Canadian pulled you tight against her, your back flush against her chest and she pressed a couple soft kisses against the nape of your neck before settling her head down on the pillow next to you.

"Goodnight baby, I love you." "Goodnight Jess, I love you too."

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

[rewh0re]

━PROMISES ARE BUT FUTILE WORDS ; MIKAGE REO

- angst, 1.1k, yelling and cursing, crying, fed up reader, crying reo (sorry!), Give it a read maybe and I'll give you a cookie! Reblogs + feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

It was a highly extravagant restaurant with bright blinding lights and fancy customers murmuring amongst themselves. The sound of cutlery hitting the plates as people enjoyed their meal became more and more evident as time passed by.

You could see her. Your waitress. She was trying her hardest to subtly look at you after every 2 seconds, maybe waiting to approach you again. You took a sip of your water as you sighed and rubbed your neck, fidgeting with the beautiful pearl necklace that you wore. The one saved only for special occasions. You looked down at your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in an hour. Maybe they weren't really even looking at you necessarily but all you felt were pairs of eyes burning holes into your frame as you kept checking for at least one text. It never came.

"Miss?" Your waitress finally came up to you, a sheepish look on her face. You gave her a small understanding smile.

"Miss I am really sorry but you might have to give up this table. You have not ordered anything in an hour and the other customers are patiently waiting outside. So if you could please order something?" She gave you a smile that screamed the amount of pity she held for you.

"Uh no I'm fine, I'll be leaving. So sorry for keeping up the line," you blinked twice as you tried to keep the little tears at bay. You got up from your chair, smiled at her one last time and quickly walked out of the very expensive, very beautiful restaurant. You saved up for this.

You checked your phone one last time. No text or call from Reo.

"Fuck that jerk. Fucking shithead," you muttered more to yourself. You wiped the few stray tears that slipped and headed straight towards home.

All you wanted at this very moment was to change out of the clothes you were wearing and maybe just try to sleep. You couldn't sleep without Reo, but you have to today.

You opened the front door, ready to freshen up as soon as possible but you froze on the doorway.

There he was, sitting on the sofa, your cat on his lap as he was watching some football match you honestly didn't care about at the moment. You were angry, seething, all you felt was rage because what the fuck was Mikage Reo doing at home just chilling when you humiliated yourself at a restaurant where he was supposed to be on a date with you?

"Oh hey honey! You're back!" He gave you his million dollar smile and normally that would make your insides flutter but you clenched your jaw as you constricted yourself from screaming at him. Not so soon.

"What do you mean by that? What are you doing at home?" You asked in a flat voice.

"Oh well, practice ended early so I went over to Nagi's and we played some games. Then I came home and thought that we'd cuddle but you weren't here," he smiled at you from the sofa, softly petting your cat. "But you were not here. I assumed you went out with your friends so I didn't bother you by calling and all. Hey? Are you feeling okay"

You saw his face morph into one of concern and he probably saw yours covered in pure vexation.

"Am I okay? Am I okay?! REO! do you really not remember what today was supposed to be," you paced towards him, your footsteps quick and voice rising, slowly but surely.

Reo's eyes widened in horror as the realization finally dawned upon him. It was your 1 year anniversary. You both had decided on a date night at the restaurant for which he knew you saved up. You had mentioned this being extremely special for you.

"Shit," reo hissed as he shut his eyes, opening them to see tears almost streaming out of your own.

"Shit indeed," you turned to go towards your bedroom but he was quick to hold your wrist.

"Listen. Y/n. I am so sorry it completely slipped my mind. I-"

You laughed at his pointless explanation, "of course it slipped your mind Reo. It always fucking does! Last time, I asked you to hang out at my place and you forgot. Before that I asked you if you could check out the cafe near my office and guess what? You couldn't make it. Everytime I try to do something special for us, you ruin it by blowing up on me. So don't give me that bullshit that it slipped your mind because if you wanted to come with me in the first place, that wouldn't have happened."

You snatched your wrist away from him. You were panting from all the yelling you did and it was so evident that you were trying your hardest not to break down then and there. Reo had understood that his relationship was hanging on by a thread at this point and he was unable to do anything to save it.

"Baby listen. I'm sorry I've done this to you. I love you. I do, really and I can try to come up with an explanation as to why I stood you up but there won't be any. So I won't try. All I can say right now is that I'm sorry and I promise y/n. I promise that next time, I will not repeat this mistake. Won't you give me another chance?" By now even Reo was trying his hardest to keep his tears at bay. His lips quivered and voice broke with every sentence that he spoke but he stood his ground. He realized he might lose you very soon. Very very soon. But he would beat himself up over it if he at least didn't try to keep you with him.

You scoffed at his words, meaningless as they were to you, "Promise? Ha! Your promises have proved to be useless time and time again Reo. Your promises are nothing but a string of futile words attached by some lanky thread that grows more precarious every passing second. I cannot trust your words anymore."

You looked away to hide your tears. He tried to gently hold your face, look into your eyes but the way you smacked his hand away revealed how this relationship had already broken.

"This was my last straw Reo. I want you out of my house by morning," his eyes widened in pain and tears kept flowing but he knew you wouldn't change your mind. He knew you. Once you made a decision, you stuck to it, not being easily swayed.

"If that is what you want, what you truly, really want, then I will respect your decision y/n. But I need you to know that you look gorgeous today and everyday and I will love you. Always. You gave me the world and if you ever want to try again or if you ever find it in yourself to forgive me, I will be just one call away." He kissed your forehead, a kiss that lingered longer than expected because this was the last.

Reo was gone the next morning when you woke up.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hi love 💕 can you please write reader x damian where she has like a chronic illness \ pain and she has some of those days where all she wants is to be taken care of? thank you 💗💗💗

wrote this with high fever so probably not the best :(

damian priest x reader

one of those days

being in that car accident when you were seven really fucked up your life. you were lucky to even be still alive, only getting out of it with bad injuries but nothing worse. expect your dream of being a wrestler fading away.

you grew up watching wrestling with your family. your dad was a fan. your mom was a fan too and you grew being a fan too. you remember asking wrestlemania tickets every year for christmas, nothing more.

but you knew that after being stuck in bed for over a year did nothing but more damage to your body.

it was a really bad accident, leaving you with the worst back pain you’ve ever felt. you thought it was going to go away but it never did. growing up the pain became stronger to the point you had to stay weeks away from school because you couldn’t even move. your dream of being a wrestler completely faded away but your lucky star made your wish come true anyway.

you were a sport journalist and even if you worked for hockey, baseball, football and basketball somehow you ended up hosting a wwe post game show. and that was everything you ever dreamed of.

you had the chance to meet amazing people, new friends and even the love of your life.

at first it was scary having to host interviews with the judgment day but in the end you found out they were the most caring and loving people you’ve ever met. you and rhea bonded immediately. she was the first to know about your pain and about the accident that happened and she made you promise to always call her in case you needed anything. same thing happened with finn and dom. with damian things were a little different. he fell in love with you the moment he saw you and he wanted everyone to know that he was in love. he started from giving you coffee in the morning to offering you lunches and dinners. he loved picking you up in the morning and taking you back home at night. he just loved being in your presence.

and you ended up falling for him too.

he always took care of you in a way no one ever did. not only about the physical pain. he knew you. he knew how to listen to you. he knew how to read you and that was all that mattered to you.

it was one of those morning where you were lucky you didn’t have to leave the house for work that day because you just spent the worst sleepless night ever.

your back was hurting once again and you couldn’t even move your legs to go to the bathroom.

“is everything okay princesa?” damian asked when he saw you trying to move your position in bed.

“just one of those days…”

“here let me help you” he smiled at you, moving his arms under your back, making sure to not hit the spot that hurts you. he helped you sitting more comfortably in bed, positioning some pillows under your back and under your head.

“thank you” you smiled at him.

“it’s my pleasure, do you need anything else? water? something to eat?” he asked softly, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you.

“i’m okay, thanks” you whispered “can you just hug me?” you shyly asked him.

his heart melted at the sound of your soft and sweet voice “of course love” he said, helping you moving towards his body so now you were laying on his chest while his hands went to your back, gently massaging it.

“does it hurt?” he asked.

“today more than yesterday…it’s normal tho…i just have bad days too”

“i know…i just wish you didn’t have those days…whatever you need i’m here, food, water, a hot bath, just say it and i’ll make everything possible” he smiled at you.

“can we just stay like this forever?”

“as you wish my queen” he laughed making you laugh too.

“i just love you so much damian…thank you for always being here for me”

“te amo mi amor…so much” he whispered when he saw you relaxing against his chest and closing your eyes once again.

he never thought he would find love but you came and proved him wrong.

[applejuicefruit]

hey, can you do one where kylian is kind of down because of this massive (unnecessary) hate he's been getting lately? but he always tries to pretend he's fine, but the reader notices how downcast he's been lately, and comforts him, please? if you can...

yes please ⭐️⭐️ he doesn’t deserve all the hate he’s receiving 😭

thank you for requesting this ❤️

kylian mbappe x reader

Not everyone’s favourite

After France lost the world cup something in Kylian changed. You saw it. His family saw it. His friends saw it. Even his fans saw it. He was more determined now. Determined to win every single PSG match. Determined to be the best football player of all time. He was just determined. But this thing was stressing him out a lot and even if he never said anything you knew it was getting worse. After he missed the two penalty during the last PSG match and after he got injured only 20 minutes into the game you knew something was completely off with Kylian, you just wished he talked to you but he never talked about emotions with anyone, not even you, it didn’t matter if you were dating for more than a year.

He got home the day after the game, he was beating himself up even if PSG won that match. But things got worse when you saw all the hateful comments people were writing about his two missed penalties. Not everyone can always have a perfect day and in that match Kylian wasn’t there mentally. But still people were writing awful things and you couldn’t believe how fans were easy to turn side, one time they are fans when he scores, the second time they hate him because he missed a penalty, what hypocrisy!

You just wished Kylian didn’t see the comments. But in the same moment you were in the living room checking twitter, he was in your shared bedroom doing the exact same thing.

You decided to go check on him because you knew he hated being alone, even if he didn’t feel like talking, you knew he needed comfort.

“Hey babe, what you doing?” you asked sitting on the bed next to him

“Just checking twitter…” he said and you knew he was reading the comments

“Babe” you said grabbing his phone and tossing it over on the other side of the bed “I think you need to rest a bit”

“I was reading what people are saying about me, about the two missed penalties…I’ve disappointed them and they are completely right” he said not even looking at you. In that moment your heart broke a little, looking at Kylian’s face you knew he wanted to cry and to let his emotions out, he just didn’t want to do it in front of you

“Kylian, listen to me…you didn’t disappoint anyone okay? Not everyone can be perfect all the time…” you said grabbing his hands and kissing them, he smiled at your kind gesture

“But I want to be perfect, all the time…” he said

“Kyky, you’re just human, it’s okay…you had a bad day last night and it’s completely fine…” you tried to reassure him

“I can’t believe that the people writing this things are the same people who cheered when I score 5 goals in the last game” he said, a tear falling from his eye but he quickly wiped it

“Babe…I need you to listen to me…people’s gonna hate when you do something wrong and they’re gonna love you when you do something right…those are just hypocrites, not fans…and they mean nothing okay? You know your worth and you know your value…you also know you’re just human and it’s normal to have bad days or make mistakes, that’s part of us…” you said, Kylian completely breaking down in tears letting all of the stress of the past days out “you’re just human Kylian and you need to remember it before you hurt yourself…and I’m not talking physically…” you said kissing his forehead “you know you can always talk to me…about anything”

“I know baby it’s just…after the world cup everything got better and worse at the same time…” he said now opening up to you “and now it’s hard trying to keep up this imagine I create at the world cup”

“You do you Kylian…you are the man who can play for more than ninety minutes and score a hat trick but you also are the man who can miss a penalty and get injured…you’re human Kylian but that doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of doing great things again…” you said wrapping your arms around his body and keeping him close to you.

It was your time to comfort him, remembering all the times he did it for you. You held him while he let a few tears fall, letting all the stress and the adrenaline go out. You gently stroke his back and arms and let him cry in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you mon amour” he said “you know how I hate talking about emotions…but with you everything is easier, I love you” he said wiping his tears and kissing you on the lips. You smiled back at him and let him rest on your shoulder.

These are the moments you are most thankful for, the moments you remind him that he’s just human and not iron man, that he can’t be perfect all the time and that’s okay to make mistakes sometimes.

[chiosblog]

Shootout (Starsky and Hutch, 1x14) vs Without Reservations (The A-Team, 5x13)

They are the same episode but in different parallel universes, here is why lol

It's a (rainy) dark night... both Starky and Hutch and the A-Team finally get a opportunity to get off work and lay off some stress in a italian restaurant.

It's football night on tv: B.A. insists he wants to stay home to watch the game while in S&H the young hunchman Joy is whining about wanting to stay in to watch the game before moving on with the plan.

When we move to the reastaurant the evil guys are already there planning their moves: the killers are just two in S&H meanwhile in the A-team they are three (one wil remain for the most part in the back of the restaurant watching over Face's suffering).

In S&H the escalation is subtle with no gun fire. One of the killers make his move quite soon after S&H enter the place, approaching Hutch while Starsky is in the bathroom. Starsky then get shot right after he come out of the restroom. While in AT, Face's shoothing happens abruptly and it's what make everything worse for Murdock and the others. Murdock senses something was off with the two (evil) guys so ask Face and Frankie to discract them to take their guns but something don't go as planned so Face get shot.

Obviously after that both Murdock and Hutch rush to their side to take care of the wound but one of killers don't let them. They both try to argue over that and finally get to move their wounded man in a room in the back. But the evil guys don't let them attend their man for too long.

In S&H the target is Vic Monte, a mafia boss. The young girl who works there, Teresa, is also part of the killers' plan, she informs them about the target arrival cause she wants revenge for the death of her young brother. The girl then changes her mind thanks to Hutch and help him out the best she can. In AT, Gina is the daughter of the restaurant owner and spends most of the time attending to Face. In both cases, Hutch and Murdock give them precise orders to try keeping Face / Starsky alive.

Both depictions of the shooting aftermatch are quite well made: both face and Starsky are barely able to move or talk, they are heavy sweating, get tremors and they feel the need to keep calling out their partner name. Hutch is more responsive and affectionate in his actions while Murdock keep his mind completely focused on handling both Face conditions and the killers aggressive behaviour and orders. While face's health seems to worsen every minute making him unable to talk much, Starsky lightens the mood and comfort his partner. In general S&H remain closer to one another throughout the episode (Starsky plays a little part in the plan to get the upper ground over the villains) than what we see in AT.

In both episodes the young hutchman also keep tormenting the random couple who find themselves stuck in this hostage situation. In S&H this sideline plot is more structured and detailed, with some small character development for the both of them, especially for her. In AT this secondary plot play a minimal part and the characters are mainly one dimensional.

The resolution in S&H is quick: Hutch find a way to retrive the gun under the register and, with the help of Teresa, defeat the threat. In AT the resolution is slower and need an external help by B.A and Hannibal who, after being summoned with a trick, they come and help Murdock and Frankie getting rid of the villains with (you guessed it) an explosion.

The final scene is quite different lol but in both episodes we see them return to their normal silly life with their silly friends. Face and Starsky return home where they recover from the injury while some shenanigans occurs (aka the failed magician show vs the cutest pizza I've ever seen).

hope it's clear now that in both cases they are all gay, bye

[landoom]

F1 FANFICS REC LIST - High School/Uni AU's - Part II

Silent conversations (7350 words) by belovedbees Rating: Not Rated Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, Background Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen Summary: Oscar found himself saying, “The sky’s looking nice tonight, isn’t it?” He thought that, maybe, if he started some sort of conversation, it would naturally trickle into them talking about what had happened. “Very pretty,” Lando said, his eyes never leaving Oscar. - Oscar and Lando attend a party, they play truth or dare and everything that ensues from a certain dare.

oOoOoOo

say what you mean (2735 words) by strongestavenger Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Arthur Leclerc/Oscar Piastri (background), Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc (background) Characters: Alexander Albon, George Russell (Formula 1 RPF), Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles Leclerc, Arthur Leclerc Summary: After the rush of opening night, Alex and George finally get their shit together.

oOoOoOo

running home (to your sweet nothings) (2119 words) by lemonadedino Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: But the worst part is that the stranger is so clearly interested in Oscar. Everything about his body language screams "Hello! Please rail me and then I’ll take you to a really nice dinner afterwards at a place where the prices aren’t printed on the menu and maybe you’d like to start a family as well while we’re at it? They will all take after me and be very posh and look like they have a stick up their ass." That bothers Lando a little bit. Because yesterday, Lando finally realized that he’s in love with Oscar. Which is why he's standing here now, bouquet in hand, confession on the tip of his tongue.

oOoOoOo

hits different (11622 words) by piastrism Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Max Verstappen Summary: “I just… found it on my bed. Saturday morning.” Oscar is pretty sure his whole face looks like a tomato. “And I don't even remember taking it! I swear it wasn’t, like, conscious!”   Max finally takes the jersey out of Oscar’s hands. Oscar still can’t look him in the eyes.   “Wait,” Max starts, voice slow. “Did you… steal my jersey to get off?”   Or, after a little administrative mishap, Freshman Oscar gets roomed with Max on accident. It’s all sunshine and rainbows (it’s not, actually) until Oscar, in his rut induced haze, steals Max’s football jersey.

oOoOoOo

a collection of statistical improbabilities (9000 words) by leoleaf Rating: Explicit Relationships: Alexander Albon/Logan Sargeant Summary: Logan’s two month study abroad is thrown into jeopardy when his housing falls through. Looking for new accommodations last minute, he meets Alex, a grad student behind on rent, with a fold out couch.

oOoOoOo

all these little games (4974 words) by theommin Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, background Alex/Logan, background Charles/Max - Relationship Summary: “Is this a thing now?” Lando grins, leans on the counter and tips closer, “maybe. Would you like it to be?” Oscar bites his lip and flushes a little – which is an image Lando is not going to stop thinking about for the next five hours – considering. Lando distantly wonders what pros and cons he’s weighing. After a few agonising seconds, he shrugs. “Sure. Keeps things interesting.” Lando is absolutely going to take that. Lando is completely normal about the cute barista working at his local coffee shop. So normal, in fact, that he creates a points system based on how flustered Oscar gets over his pickup lines.

oOoOoOo

shark bait (12865 words) by miamis Rating: Explicit Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Logan Sargeant Summary: “Why’d you even kiss that other guy?” Oscar can’t keep himself from asking. There’s an implication, somewhere—when it was me you wanted the whole time—but Oscar can’t bring himself to say it; doesn’t think the cocky-leaning words would fit in his mouth right. Logan chuckles softly into his skin. “Liam thought it would be funny,” he says, words imbuing themselves into the thick of Oscar’s veins. “And I was hoping you’d see it.”

oOoOoOo

contact-drunk (4033 words) by miamis Rating: Explicit Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Logan Sargeant Summary: Oscar’s unsure of how he even ended up here, at a frat party, flirting with one of the brothers. But Logan is pretty handsome.

oOoOoOo

Like a spark catching fire it don't happen all the time (But when it does it changes everything) (21053 words) by TheWiseOne12 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Lando Norris Summary: He turned the corner to see George and Alex curled on the couch with a stranger settled in between them. The stranger’s eyes were closed but he didn’t look calm, chest still heaving slightly. He had Charles’ favourite nesting blanket, a thick and fuzzy grey one, wrapped around his legs. Seeing that raised his hackles and he desperately wanted to reach out and rip it out of his grasp. “What is going on here?” he hissed, mostly directing the question at his two flatmates. “This is Lando,” Alex introduced, innocent expression on his face as he stared up at Charles.

MASTERPOST

[footballfanficwriter]

Suprise!

Summary: the reader gets a special suprise from kylian

Kylian has been stressing about the game against Bayern and he's been working and training day and night even here at home, everytime I try spending time with him he's either too tired or getting ready for practice

It feels like we're barely seen eachother in the past 2 weeks, but I completely understand why

It's just that sometimes I wish he was a normal guy with a normal Job, not Kylian Mbappe the footballer, but I know he wouldn't be happy with such a life

This is gonna be the first time we're not celebrating the day and just the thought makes my heart clench

Right now I'm sitting on the bed watching him get ready

"You ready to go?" He asks

"Yeah"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"You sure? "

"Yup, don't worry about me babe"

"It's my job to worry about you"

"Well, don't, c'mon we're gonna be late"

"Ok"

We get into the car and I drive us to the stadium

"Wish me luck"

"Good luck love"

"Thanks, love you"

"Love you more" I say

He heads to the changing room and I make my way to my seat and the match starts

After the match

"Good Job babe, so proud of you"

"Thank you"

We get into the car and drive back home

"Huh, I'm so tired" he says

"Yeah I can imagine"

When we get there, I fish into my bag for the keys and open the door

As I open the door I see red rose petals making a trail to a table set for two

"Kylian what is this"

"You didn't think I'd forget did you?"

I turn around and see him holding my favorite flowers and chocolate

"I did think you forgot"

"Why would I forget our anniversary"

"You were so busy training and working so hard I didn't think you'd remember"

"Well I did remember"

"But I didn't get you anything" I say

"It's fine amour I don't need anything, I just want you"

I go in for a hug and hide my face into his chest as I try not to blush

"Are you blushing"

"No" I say

" you are aren't you"

I stay silent

"Aww you are, c'mon I have something for you"

He drags me to the table and pulls out my chair for me

"Thank you"

"You're welcome amour"

We start making conversation and he starts telling me about the past two week and I do the same

Kylian tries to make jokes but they are so bad I can't help but laugh at them, we spend the rest of the night messing around and goofing around until we finally calm down

"Kylian?"

"Oui, Amour"

"I have a present for you too"

"Yeah?"

"Yup, I'll go get it"

I heard upstairs grab the gift and head back Downstairs

"Here, I was gonna give it to you tomorrow but I figured why not now " I say and hand him the gift

It's a box that's wrapped up and he looks at it weird

"What is it" he asks

"Just open it"

He slides the top up and sees a cup

On the top of the box it says:

"Prompoted to"

Then a cup that says:

"Dad"

"Y/n, is this real"

"Yeah it's real" I say

"Please don't joke with me"

"I'm not Joking Kylian, it's true"

"I need to hear you say it"

"Say what?"

"That it's true"

"It's true Kylian"

"No say the words"

There's a silence

"I'm pregnant "

He let's out a gasp that I don't think was intentional

"Oh mon dieu"

he gets up from his chair and picks me up and twirls us around

"We're gonna be parents" he says with tears in his eyes

"Yeah we are" I say

"I can't believe this"

He starts kissing me and hugging me

"Je t'aime mon amour"

"Je t'aime aussi, mon mari"

"est-ce une fille ou un garçon" he asks

"Je ne sais pas" I say

"But does it matter" I ask

"No it doesn't, I just want our child to be healthy" he says

"Yeah me too" I say

He laughs and kisses me again

I can't wait to see Kylian playing with our baby girl or boy and sharing family moments with eachother

I know for a fact he will be a great father

[sandcobangevent]

💥 SHERLOCK & CO FLASHBANG EVENT!!!1!1 I had such a blast being a part of this and working with my epic teammate @whrys (who’s fic you should totally read btw as it goes with this) (john can never catch a break bless)

by @fleurdelait and @whrys

John Watson thinks himself a very good man. He always takes care of people when he can, but if the cause of that is because he genuinely is a good person, or because he was a doctor in war, he would rather not speculate on. He likes to make himself useful in every situation and dislikes having nothing to do, especially when his best friend and coworker, the reputable Sherlock Holmes, is completely ignoring all the cases they could take on. But even though he spends a lot of his time with Sherlock, on account of them living together, he can get tired of him. So, John is now not in the flat, or with Sherlock on a case. He is on a bus, heading to a football stadium.  

He had finally had some time to himself, because there were no new cases and Mariana, his and Sherlocks secretary, even though she did so much more than that, was done with all their paperwork. It seemed the stars had aligned for John this day, because there was also a football game with his favorite team nearby, or at least in a reasonable bus length. He had bought the tickets a week earlier, but usually when he planned ahead, there would be an unforeseen case that sherlock wanted to take, and John had to cancel whatever plans he had. But just this once he took a chance, because the game was with his favorite team, and it was in his city. He could always get a refund. But no, when he woke up, Sherlock did not bust down his door with a new case, and Mariana had not left a note with something that needed to be done. He was free all morning and thus decided to get out of the house before something did happen.  

And now he was on the bus. Sitting by the window and looking at everything going past. He had not forgotten his team scarf, which he made sure to put in his bag before going to bed last night. When he wasn’t looking out the windows, he was fiddling with his pheon. Scrolling various social media, looking at what’s happening in his discord channel. “Jonk” was apparently making it big again. While going through his latest episodes comments, he saw a message pop up from Sherlock. Damn it. And he was almost at the arena too. He expected the usual spam of messages when he took more than a minute to respond. “Watson” “This is important” It usually wasn’t. “Mariana wants me to tell you-” “Watson” “John” “Hello”. Lately Sherlock has been calling John more by his first name. He thought this was because Sherlock was trying to be more familiar with him, to make him focus or listen to what he was saying. But he didn’t mind. He kind of liked it. But there were no more messages. Just the one. Maybe that means it wasn’t that important? Actually not important, this time. John chose to ignore it. But it was weird. Not Sherlocks normal behavior, if he had any. It was bothering John, and he looked out the window once again as the bus drove over a bridge. And as the ride continued, so did the uneasy feeling in his chest. The bus stopped and John eyes rested on a sign that said ‘Stanford's’. He remembered his friend that introduced them and the entire day that they met on. As the bus started moving again, so did his thoughts. With a sigh, finally, he gave in. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text. He knew if he read this, and it was something trivial that Sherlock tricked him back to the apartment with that made him miss yet another game, he would absolutely regret it. He had come back to the apartment every time Sherlock called, and if he did so now as well, Sherlock would not learn that he wouldn’t come every time he was called. But alas, he will. It’s Sherlock after all.  

But instead of seeing a text about a very important case or just a beckon for him to come home with no explanation, he saw “John, this is Mariana, are you with Sherlock? He’s not home, but all his stuff is here. Even his headphones” 

John froze. It wasn’t from Marianas number; it was definitely Sherlocks. Probably because he left his phone at home. Honestly, this shouldn’t be that worrying, Sherlock can sometimes disappear for a day, he could have found a very interesting animal or just calming down from interacting with people for a while. But not bringing headphones is out of character.  John: Mariana, why are you messaging from Sherlocks phone? Sherlock: I knew you’d answer if it was him. If I sent it from mine, you would ignore it because you thought it was about paperwork or having to talk with clients. John: That’s fair.  John: Have you seen anything Sherlock may have left behind? Sherlock: Not immediately, but he wasn’t kidnapped if that’s what you’re thinking. His shoes are gone. Kidnappers don’t put on their victims’ shoes.  John: Yeah, that makes sense. But I’ll come home right now anyway.  

He had chosen what he cared about. Sherlock.  

After getting home, and trying to get the right bus back, John bursts through the door, looking around for Mariana or Sherlock. “Mariana? Are you here?” “In here John! Sherlock is here too.” John follows her voice to the kitchen, where she and Sherlock are sitting at the table. She seems to be patching him up as he has wounds all over.  “Oh my god Sherlock, who did this to you?”  “It’s fine Watson, Ms. Hudson is a qualified enough doctor to prescribe a few band-aids.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from Sherlocks voice. And he was still using the wrong name for Mariana.  “Yes John, he’s going to be fine. I just need to get him to sit still long enough to put on this elastic bandage- Sherlock stop picking at it.” “You’re putting it on wrong, the compression doesn’t work that way.” “Here, Mariana, I’ll do it.” John very kindly shushed Mariana out of her chair and took Sherlocks arm in his hands. She took the hint and went to get something from her room.  John undid the bandage and started over. Not because he wanted to hold Sherlocks hand more, but because it was easier that way. Obviously.  “Where would I be without my doctor.” Sherlock broke the silence. John looked up to look at his detective.  “You would be wherever you were that made you get like this. Oh, speaking of, where were you that could make you get like this?” “Way to ruin the moment, Watson. I was simply out walking, and someone attacked me. Judging by the amount of preparation they had for me, I presume they already knew who I am, and hold some sort of grudge. I might’ve caught one of their friends in a case, or they just don’t like me, which I have been told is not unusual.” “I like you.” John realized after uttering it what exactly he had said. He chose to continue with his thoughts. “You mean a lot to me. You have no idea how worried I was when Mariana said you had gone.” “John.” Sherlock’s tone caught John’s attention, and he looked up. The eye contact felt like it lasted for an eternity. He finished wrapping Sherlocks arm with the bandage and took his hand.  “You should know I skipped yet another football game for this.” “I know. You still have the scarf on you.” As he mentioned the team scarf that was still around John’s neck, he grabbed it and pulled it closer, making their foreheads touch.  John didn’t need to be a good person to know that Sherlock would always be here, at 221B Baker Street.  John was happy. 

[bastardtrait]

huge get to know me post

hi friendsies. I feel like sharing today. some of these are from a really long time ago because I've been hoarding them like the sewer-dwelling critter I am. thank you to everyone who tagged! if you also feel like sharing today then please by all means, use this post as an excuse.

last and current things tag! for this one I was tagged by @moonfromearth @newvegastrait and @airbussy-a330.

last song: water colour by Wheein

last show: I watched an episode of From with my brother & SIL which was pretty intriguing

currently watching: I do not...watch shows...I can't stick to shows if it'd save my life tbh

currently reading: Love Hate & Clickbait by Liz Bowery. it's fine so far. a solid 3/5 read. could I recommend it? if you're bored maybe.

current obsession: God of War Ragnarök. in fact I'm so obsessed I'm hellbent on 100%ing this game and I might even go back for NG+. please send help.

15 questions for 15 mutuals! for this one I was tagged by @autonomousllama and @thelastairsimblr.

Are you named after anyone? Yes, I've got my parents' names in my full legal name.

When was the last time you cried? you're gonna make me say it huh. fine. I cried during the middle part of God of War Ragnarök omg bye

Do you have kids? No...but it'd be nice someday...

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I don't know if I'm sarcastic. not really my form of humour. but I could be wrong.

What sorts of sports do you/have you played? I like swimming and diving, and football/soccer.

What's the first thing you notice about other people? okay this is gonna sound completely fucking unhinged so bear with me but...smell. like yeah that's a really normal answer right. but it's true. don't sue me.

Eye colour: brown

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings because I watched the ever-loving shit out of horror movies between 11-21 and now I don't care about them anymore.

Any special talents? I hate this question goodbye

Where were you born? the Philippines

What are your hobbies? cooking, video games, making and playing music, tabletop rpg's, painting. normal tweecore shit I guess.

Do you have any pets? yes, one overgrown rat the shelter tried to pass off as a dog but I know better. and I love him dearly.

How tall are you? driver's license says 173 cm which is around 5'8".

Favourite subject in school? god idk I haven't been in school in years. I guess history? maybe?

Dream job? I do not dream of having a job.

shuffle your playlist tag! I was tagged by @beebeesiims a while ago. in which I must shuffle my on repeat playlist and share the first 10 tracks GOD HERE WE GO...

Set Me Free - Twice

夜に駆ける Racing into the night - YOASOBI

きらり Flash - Fujii Kaze

真夜中のドア/Stay With Me - Matsubara Miki

Umaasa - Skusta Klee

Burning Friday Night - Lucky Kilimanjaro

Supernova - Ellegarden

Gunshot - KARD

Perfect World - Twice

Wonderland - iri

get to know the blogger tag! I was tagged by @lynxsimago aaages ago. some of these questions are the same as the ones above so those, I will skip.

show your wallpaper:

yes I use windoze 7. sorry my slay is so gigantic.

last movie: Mambo Italiano from 2003. one of those so bad it's good movies.

craving: some ice cold aiyu jelly on bright, blistering summer day!

what are you wearing right now? shorts...and a bandage on my torso bc I burned myself last night lol

piercings? earlobes and left nostril. I want an eyebrow one too though.

tattoos? a bow and arrow design on my right forearm and the word "انتظار" on my left wrist.

glasses/contacts? I wear glasses

last thing I ate: a panino I made. it slapped.

favourite colour? yellow!

favourite fictional character? Samwise Gamgee probably.

last place I travelled: if driving an hour+ away from home counts, then it was to Brockville. if it should be longer than that, then it'd be Vancouver.

[hollandsfavbabe]

That’s The Tea

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: in which tom finds out his girlfriend has no idea how to make tea

warnings: angsty-ish (not really), bad tea, england’s world cup loss

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

Freezing cold snow from outside littered the ground surrounding your house, coating everything in a sheet of white while warmth spread through your body as you snuggled into Tom’s side, only half paying attention to the screen in front of you. With the World Cup going on and the England team still in the running, Tom made it a point to watch it every night it was on, both as an avid football fan and as an extreme British patriot. As his girlfriend and house mate that meant you were also subjected to the sport you knew as soccer and though you cared little for the game, you enjoyed seeing Tom so passionate about it and had fun defending the USA team (up until they inevitably lost).

On this particular Saturday morning during a rousing game between England and France, Tom was unusually more tired than talkative and instead of giving you a play by play of the game, he kept a comforting arm around your waist and stroked your hair, planting soft kisses on your crown as he watched the game. The night previous he had been late coming home, his work keeping him longer than normal to finish an especially difficult scene. Though you both were perfectly content snuggled up on the sofa, you wished there was something you could do to make him more energetic while routing for his team, help him regain some of his normal vigor as England’s best played for their lives.

That’s when it hit you, Tom hadn’t completed an essential step in his daily routine yet, one that sometimes meant the difference between whether he was in a friendly mood or just wanted to be around you for the day. He hadn’t had his morning tea yet.

As the only American in the house, you’d never had the chance to make tea as you didn’t drink it as much as the others and you didn’t exactly know how to do it ‘the proper way’. As you understood it, there was a huge difference between English tea and American tea as they diverged somewhere in the brewing process, but both were tea in their own respects which prompted you to wonder how contrasting they really were. After living in England for so many years, you considered yourself most qualified to make Tom’s tea and with that goal set in mind, you were off.

You rotated around in Tom’s arms until you  were facing him, grinned and pecking his cheek as he beamed at you in return.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured groggily, his smile quickly flipping upside down as you started to move out of his hold. “No wait, c’mere.” he protested, grabbing onto your hand in hopes that you would tuck back into him.

“It’s okay, I’m coming back.” You laughed as you crouched over him to move some of the fallen curls out of his face. “I know how tired you are and I know you need your tea to function in the morning so I’ve decided to make it for you today.”

Tom’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly thinking the same as you.

“You don’t have to love, you’ve never made it before.”

You dismissed his concerns with a quiet pshh.

“Oh sure I have. I’ve made plenty of tea back in the US. It’ll be great, you’ll see. Do you take one sugar or two?”

Tom giggled.

“Two please and with just a splash of milk.”

“One British tea coming right up.” you promised, kissing his forehead as you left to make his tea, Tom’s gaze following you as you crossed the room.

“I love you!” Tom shouted from behind you as you disappeared into the kitchen. “Don’t be very long! I’m getting cold.”

Your laugh echoed from the other room as you shouted back, “You won’t be after my amazing tea!”

Thirty minutes and two sugars later, you returned with not just a cup of tea for Tom, but a tumbler of steaming hot coffee for yourself both in a small tray that you set down on the coffee table.

Tom sat up, his blanket falling on top of his lap as he reached out and picked up the cup from its place on the tray, bringing it to his center as the hot contents inside warmed him up. He sighed in relief and smiled at you as you grabbed your own drink.

“Thank you darling. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” you responded, sipping on your coffee as you took a seat beside him on the sofa, leaning into him.

Tom grinned as he refocused on the game, bringing the cup to his lips and slurping the liquid inside, but instead of the normal taste of tea, he was met with a liquid monstrosity that he immediately spat out onto the surrounding carpet, table, and you. You screamed and jumped up in shock, now sprayed with the hot liquid as you slammed your own drink down to prevent any more spillage.

“Ah Tom!” you shouted, wiping the tea from your now damp pajama shirt. “What the fuck?!”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stood with you, setting the disgusting tea down beside your drink as he jumped to apologize.

“I am so sorry y/n. I didn’t mean spray you with, oh shit, let me help you.” he offered, his game continuing on the screen, now forgotten. Tom grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen when the sight that beheld him stopped him in his tracks.

“Y/n,” he mumbled, in absolute shock. “What did you do?”

In front of him was the most disarray he’s ever seen the kitchen, water splashed on the floor, microwave left wide open, and one of the countertops resembling a summer camp with string and tape splayed across the marble along with a stapler. There was a fucking stapler in the kitchen.

You stepped forward and checked out the mess, stepping over some split coffee grounds powder on the floor as you headed to the sink to wet a rag.

“I swear this is worse than how I left it. I was going to clean it after you finished so I could do the dishes too. Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Oh I think you could kill plenty of birds with that concoction.” Tom retorted, referring to your tea. He shook his head and looked away from the mess, taking your hands in his as he stared at you with concern.

“Y/n, you know I love you more than anything right.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Good. Remember that when I say this next part. Remember that I love you.”

Tom paused to take in a deep breath, the sort of one might take before announcing they’d like to separate, but in this case you were sure he was simply dramatic. He was an actor after all.

“Alright, I get it. Just spit it out.” you demanded, growing inpatient as you pulled your hands out of his and used the wet rag to wipe off the splattered tea on your shirt.

Tom grimaced, remembering whatever he had drunk out of the cup that you disguised as a normal cuppa when in fact, it was not just a cuppa. It was horrible.

“I’m sorry to say this, but that had to be the worst tea I have ever had in my entire life. It’s so bad honey, it’s even worse than Harry’s.”

You looked up at him in shock, the rag slipping from your hands as your expression changed from neutral to saddened.

“No.”

Tom nodded, regretfully.

“Yes, I’m sorry baby. But that’s the thing, I don’t think it’s your fault. You’ve never made this kind of tea before. Could you tell me how you did it?” he asked, hoping to help you by correcting any flaws in your recipe. There were sure to be a few.

“Oh alright.” You gave in. “I made it how I always do, just with milk and sugar this time because that’s how you like it.”

“How exactly did you make it?”

You thought back for a moment and started off at the beginning.

“I started by heating up the water for the tea..”

“With the kettle?” Tom asked, unsure there was any other way to do it. Much to his disappointment, there was.

“No.” you answered as if it was obvious. “With the microwave.”

Tom cringed as he shook his head and turned towards the microwave, closing the opened door as he motioned for you to continue.

“After I warmed it up, I put the tea bag in, but it didn’t have a string like the ones in the States do and it made me wonder why someone would make a tea bag without a string? How are you supposed to get it out? That’s like making a tampon without a string. Imagine how hard it would be to…”

Unable to keep you with your reasoning, Tom directed you back on topic.

“Y/n,” he reminded you gently.

“Right, sorry. Got a little carried away. Well anyways I was just so appalled by the stringless bag that I figured should fix it.”

“What do you mean?” Tom wondered aloud. You shrugged, puzzled by how dumbfounded your boyfriend seemed as you explained your thought process.

“I added a string. I got some string and a stapler and I fixed the tea bag.”

“Y/n, that’s yarn.” Tom corrected, pointing out the thick white ball of it that lie scattered across the marble countertop.

“It was the only one we had.”

Tom bit his lip, looking up to the ceiling as if he was asking for help from above before he met your eyes again and repeated your statement.

“So what you’re telling me is you cut a piece of yarn and you stapled it to the tea bag?”

“Yes. Then I-”

“Wait, hold on. I want to make sure we’re picturing the same thing. You stapled it to the tea bag?”

You nodded, wondering what about the situation was not getting across to him as he remained absolutely bewildered.

“Yeah, the tape didn’t work.” you explained. Tom shook his head as he looked away from the stapler, no longer wishing to accept its presence in the kitchen.

“Oh y/n, please keep going.”

“As I was saying, after I fixed the tea bag, I put it in the water and stirred it up a bit until it all looked nice and mixed. At that point I had finished making my coffee so I added some milk and two sugars just like you said and brought it out to you.”

Tom noticed a gap in your story where a vital step lay that you did not explain completing.

“You took the tea bag out though right?” he questioned. Though he was genuinely asking, somewhere deep inside himself, he already knew the answer.

You laughed.

“What you think I’m stupid? I wouldn’t want the tea to lose its flavor. Of course I didn’t take the tea bag out.”

Tom shook his head, trying his hardest to wipe the taste of the tea from his brain so that he would not gag on its haunting aftertaste.

“Y/n, you’re supposed to take the tea bag out!”

“How was I supposed to know? I drink coffee.”

“I knew you shouldn’t have made the tea. You can’t do it right.”

You scoffed, agreeing with his statement, but refusing to go down as the only bad cook in the house.

“Okay Mr. Ethnocentrism, need I remind you of how badly you screwed up cheeseburgers last week when we invited your family over?”

Tom’s face burned red.

It was true, you had tasked him with something you and everyone else perceived as simple, but instead of delicious classic American cheeseburgers, Tom brought out a platter of what closely resembled eight individual disintegrated panties. His excuse? The cheese wasn’t processed enough.

“Alright, that was worse.” he admitted, wishing he would have asked you for help.

“Thank you.”

He took another look around the kitchen and laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I can’t believe you actually stapled yarn to the bag.”

“They already have the string attached back in the States!” You reasoned, a smile making its way upon your face as you too realized how absurd it all was.

“I know baby it’s okay.” He comforted, bringing you into him as he embraced you, still damp with the tea. “Let’s just clean this up and how about I show you how to make a real cuppa.”

“That sounds alright.” you agreed and together you got to work.

While you changed into dry clothes, Tom cleaned up most of the spilled items, putting away what was never needed and taking out the ingredients for real tea, including the kettle. Once you returned he showed you through the whole process, helping you use the kettle and showing you how to remove tea bags from cups without strings. Once the milk and sugar was added, he stirred it all together and presented it to you, letting you take the first sip.

You inhaled the scent of the tea and took a sip, swallowing it down and faking a grin as the hot drink slid down your throat.

“It’s alright.”

Tom shook his head as he drank his cuppa.

“It’s more than alright, you crazy. It’s fantastic.” he emoted, closing his eyes as if he had emerged from a world of eternal peace with his tea.

“I’m more of a coffee person.” you remarked, shaking your head at his dramatics.

He laughed, walking you back to the living room where your coffee and his game were waiting for you both.

“Thanks for trying babe, I love you.” he praised, kissing your cheek before another sip of his tea.

“Mm, thanks for teaching me.” you answered, enjoying your own coffee until the final score of the game flashed across the screen causing an uproar next to you.

“NOO!” Tom screamed, standing upright.

“Tom, look out! You’re tea-“

It was too late. The cup had fallen to the floor and once again splashed all over the carpet and your sweat pants, staining the white fabric a soft brown.

Tom looked down at his mess, a furious blush marking his face as he realized what he had just done.

“I’ll clean it up.” he said, defeated at the loss of his team and his morning tea as he moved to grab some towels.

“You better.”

[thoughtrefinery]

DEATH

I still struggle to find the right words to describe how I felt when my grandfather died. The memory of events pertaining to his sickness, death and burial are perhaps the most abhorred by my mind. He meant a lot to me, for so many reasons I could fill a thousand blogs going on about him. I lived with him from since I was 8 months old- way before my own consciousness was fully fledged. He, along with the tender care of my grandmother, adopted me from the chaos of a failing affair between my parents.

I developed a very severe asthma in those days and I struggled with it until I was about fourteen. It was clear to me during that time before I completely healed from that agonising ailment that for me to be able to lead a healthy life was my grandfather’s most fundamental purpose. And albeit he was a man of somewhat modest means, he bought several medicines for me ranging from contemporary pharmaceuticals to indigenous herbal concoctions. He seemed determined to go to the end of the world to find a cure for me. Every rumoured remedy for asthma (and there happened to be several of such claimed treatments) he bought for me. Other times he only got recipes and had to prepare the medication at home. Prayers were said for me on nights when I could barely breathe and many suggested to take me to a traditional healer. If it wasn’t for his unwavering Christian faith, I am sure he’d have forayed onto this path as well.

After several years of pain and inestimable doses of various kinds of medications, suddenly-one day, I stopped getting the attacks. The cold seasons came and nothing- no breathlessness, no sleepless nights, no purring from my chest. I could now magically run as fast as every other child. In the subsequent term I registered into both the basketball and football teams at my high school. The truth was that this unanticipated chance to health had bred such ambition within me! I so badly wanted to be normal and to measure up. I pushed myself to the limits and still managed to breathe alright during the games. At first, I was sceptical, but with time it dawned on me that I was finally healed.

To date countless people with ailing family members still come home to inquire about the magical drug that healed me. The answer is always that we do not know- my grandfather bought almost everything that was pitched to him. Whichever of those worked there is no way we’d ever know. Maybe it was his and grandmother’s prayers, or my body becoming tougher as I grew up. I would never know, but lord I was grateful to feel alive.

And then in my first year at university, my grandfather died. He was sixty-two and had just received his pension. I had hoped that he’d see how my life would turn out. If I could make the decision, I would have desired him to die in my arms, under my care when I’d finally found my way in life. But he didn’t wait for that and I didn’t get the chance.

That was my first and thus far the only experience of loss of a dear one. I hope I never chance that feeling again until I die. Sadness or sorrow are not words strong enough for how I felt. Whoever has had the misfortune of this gloomy feeling can bear witness. It’s a feeling of hopelessness, where your tears flow and dry up and still leave you aching inside. Every memory of that person mangles your lungs. It feels like you’ll never be happy again.

In the aftermath of his burial, I found solace in contemplating the essence of death. I wrote about it and read about it. One night I stumbled upon an excerpt on the fear of death and it said ‘it is foolish to fear the inevitable’. It was almost like am imploration to embrace death, to run into his bosom and therein to be at peace. If, no matter how far or how long you ran you could never escape, then maybe it would be wiser to accept your fate and save yourself the brawls of fruitless endeavour.  

At around that same time I remember getting the inspiration to write a poem. Here is what I found myself scribbling down;

Oh, sweet death,

Where is the horror in you?

If you shall unburden my soul,

Why would I dread you?

If I shall feel not the pain of breaking,

The exasperation of losing,

And the anxiety of expectation,

Why would I not love you?

Plunged into an everlasting silence,

The peace of nothingness,

Without standards or classes,

An eternal shelter for everyone,

Sounds like pure fairness.

Oh, Sweet death,

Where is the horror in you?

There are moments when I’d believe every word therein, and those where I’d brush it all off saying that was just me coping with the loss of a loved one. I should be able tell from the grief it caused me that death cannot be sweet. And whereas religion teaches that death is a transition, there are schools of thought that profess the belief in a hereafter as merely a surreal island in the sea of desperation where we have failed to accept that life is fleeting. But death remains no matter what you think of it. And if it is so inescapable, does it matter at all what you think of it? Well, maybe it matters only as a way of coping with how you feel about it, which is maybe why I wrote that poem in the first place.

I have now come to see death in an entirely different way. I am still horrified by it, but I have accepted it. One night, I summarized my feelings about death in simple prose;

Life begins and sets our souls ablaze with the desire to live on. The past is bleak- before birth, but we do not care! We are here now and to live feels good. We revere it. We might just be new here but it already feels like home. We would rather stay than foray into the fabled, uncertain hereafter.

Everything here is vanity, the bible says. Ironical, isn’t it? For it feels different while you live- every breath is more satisfying than vain, considering that death isn’t much of a better idea. We dread death, and the hope of an afterlife doesn’t make it any easier to take.

But could it be inept to fear the inevitable? Could it be that the hereafter is anything but our fears? Why do we even care, for long we have been helpless wisps eddying about in a whirlwind of chance. We never chose to be here, so what makes us think we could choose to leave or stay? Perhaps the hereafter is really as beautiful as optimism would paint it, a grand replica of all our wildest utopias!

It could be foolery to think of death as an endless void of nothingness, perhaps better to think of it as an inevitable transition. Forget the notion that life entails much and death not so much. That is not our part, to worry.

Ours is to live. Make these days count. Mortality is for sure, embrace it, now that you cannot avoid it. This will set you free. For surely, death will knock you someday. Or you will knock it, but knock you must.

The end.

[applejuicefruit]

Hi angel I love your blog❤️ Can you write something similar to the one shot you wrote with Olivier but reader being 18/19 and being Kylian’s neighbour please? It doesn’t have to be romantic ❤️❤️

tw: domestic violence, bad words, blood mention and a lot of angst

Thank you for requesting this! I hope you like it ⭐️❤️

Something better

You were 19, you just started college, you lived in a nice parisian neighbourhood and everyone thought your life was perfect. Except it wasn’t.

You grew up in a very rich family so everyone assumed you had everything you wanted. They were so wrong. You’re family was very messed up. You’re mom, a secretary for a very important business cheated on your dad with her boss and when you dad found out he decided to confront her about it. Instead she decided to leave and go with her boss. Leaving you all alone with your dad only when you were 9. You and your dad had to survive alone.

He was a lawyer, a very good one. Everyone admired his work, his career and his devotion towards his job, but if only knew what was going on between your four walls.

He started to drink after your mum left. He never forgave her for cheating. He became a completely different man.

The first time he raised his hands on you was when you were 11. You asked him for help with your homework and instead of helping you he slapped you in your face, saying he was too busy working a case.

You blamed yourself. But you were only a kid.

That was the first night but not the last.

He liked beating you. When you were a kid you couldn’t put up a fight so you simply let him.

Now it was a bit different. You were a teenager on her first year of college, hardly at home and when you were at home he was already fast asleep. Sometimes you fought. You were sure your neighbours could hear you. Especially the man who lived in front of you.

The famous football player Kylian Mbappè.

The man you had a crush on. But you knew you couldn’t compete with the models he brought home from games so you simply accepted his friendship.

You were sure he knew what was going on between you and your dad but he never said anything.

One night it got really bad.

It was around 8pm and you were doing some work when your dad came into the apartment shutting the front door so loud it almost broke.

“What have you made for dinner?” he asked you not even greeting you

“I already ate” you said not leaving the face from your laptop

“And you didn’t cook anything for me?”

“You know how to cook”

“That’s not a way to talk to your father!” he shouted making you flinch

“I’m tired I’m going to sleep” you said standing up from the chair but in that moment he grabbed your shoulder and threw you on the ground. Your face hitting the floor so hard you were sure your lips were broken.

“Now I’m gonna ask you again, what have you made for dinner? Bitch”

“I said I already ate”

He punched your face

“Try again”

He punched your nose

You were spitting blood.

You thought he would kill you until you heard the door bell ring.

“Is everything okay?”

It was Kylian.

“I’ve heard some loud noises”

Your dad stood up and told you to stay there and to not talk.

“Hi Kylian, yes, everything okay. Y/n accidentally broke a plate” your dad said making everything look normal

“You sure?”

“Yes Kylian, we were about to eat so…”

“Oh okay, I’ll go” Kylian said before going back to his apartment.

When your dad turned you weren’t there anymore, instead you locked yourself in your bedroom trying to escape him.

That night you didn’t fall asleep. You waited till morning until he would leave for work.

When he left you got out of your room and cleaned the mess that was left in the kitchen.

You looked yourself in the mirror and you cried at the sight of your face. Your left eye was purple and your lips were definitely broken.

Your body ached. You hardly could move.

You were so lost in your mind you didn’t hear the doorbell ring.

“Y/n?” Kylian called from the other side of the door

You opened the door and he swore he almost had a heart attack when he saw your face.

“What happened to your face?” he asked, voice full of concern

“I fell…”

“Sure, try again”

“No really, I fell”

“Chère don’t lie to me, what happened?”

“I told you I fell” you said almost closing the door in front of his face but he stopped it

“Y/n…please” and when he looked at you with those puppy eyes you started crying

“We had a big fight last night…hen didn’t mean to hurt me it was my fault I made him angry”

“Absolutely no! That’s not an excuse” he said hugging you. In that moment you stated crying harder “why don’t we go back to my place and I’ll take care of those bruises?” he asked and you simply nodded.

He guided you into his own place and let you sit on the couch while he grabbed the emergency kit. You tried to be strong but every time he touched your cheek it felt like fire. He sensed it and tried to be more careful.

“I’m sorry I’m hurting you” he said putting some ice on your lip

“No it’s fine…”

“It’s really not y/n. Have you talked about this with someone?” he asked a bit concerned

“With who?” you said back in a low tone “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to snap at you”

“Don’t worry…but, what about your mom? You have other relatives…have you talked to them?” he asked trying to being helpful

“It’s all my mom’s fault if he’s like this. She left him. She left us. He tried to be a good father at first but eventually he gave up, he said it was my fault my parents weren’t together anymore…”

“You know it’s not your fault”

“I know it’s not my fault now but I needed that comfort when I was a kid, not now” you said trying to forget your awful childhood “Kylian I was a kid…how can you blame a kid for that?”

Kylian was so mad at your father. No kids should be treated like this.

“You know what? You’ll stay here. I’ll give you the guest bedroom, I’ll give you some spare keys and you’ll stay here”

“No I can’t accept, plus, he lives in front of you…”

“Yes but he can’t get into my place”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here Kylian…I just want a normal life”

“Can you at least think about it? I can’t let you go back knowing he might hurt you again”

“He won’t. I know him. It was just a bad day yesterday” you lied knowing that the moment you would walk back into the apartment things would get worse.

“Y/n…”

“I’ll be fine Kylian, I swear” and with that you left his apartment.

That night you didn’t even left your bedroom. You were too scared he might hurt you again.

Instead you cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning you came out of your bedroom only to see your father fast asleep on the couch with a few empty beer bottles.

You tried to not make any noise but eventually he woke up.

“Is it too complicated for you to be silent? Can’t you even do that? You’re worthless” he said standing from the couch and coming towards you.

“I didn’t want to wake you” you said in a low voice

“But you did”

“I’m sorry…”

“Can you make me some breakfast?”

“I’m late for university…”

“You know I wasn’t really asking” he shouted

“Dad I-“

When you spoke back he got up and started walking towards you.

“You need to lear some good manners” he said throwing an empty bottle on the ground and crashing in it.

You flinched a bit and started to cry.

Before he made more steps you ran out of your apartment.

While you ran out you accidentally bumped into Kylian.

“Y/n?” he said looking at you with a worried face “hey look at me…y/n look at me”

You looked at him and you couldn’t stop crying. He hugged you and said nothing. Instead he got you into his apartment and gave you some water to drink.

“He got mad at me” you said “again…”

“Y/n…”

“I can’t-I can’t stay there anymore…”

“I have an apartment, on the other side of Paris, it’s a bit far but it’s safe, you can live there for a while if you want to” he said looking at you.

You were really thinking about it.

“Are-are you sure?” you asked and he nodded “okay then…”

After that he took you to his house place. The apartment was huge. It had an amazing view on the Eiffel Tower. A huge living room and five bedrooms.

“Why do you live there when you could stay here all the time” you asked referring to your building. Yes it was nice and expensive but nothing compared to this.

“To stay near you…” he said shyly looking away

“What?”

“I know what you’re going through and I didn’t want you to stay alone…”

“Kylian…”

“You deserve better than this. You deserve a great family. Great friends. You deserve more and I-I wished I could give you what you needed”

“What you mean?” you asked not understanding what he meant

“I mean I care for you okay? You’re one of my best friend and I want to protect you”

Best friend.

That hurt.

A lot.

You didn’t say anything but you simply nodded.

He was going to speak but his phone rang.

When he answered you heard a faint voice of a woman on the other side calling him love.

That was when you broke down crying.

For everything.

Your shitty life. Your parents. All the pain you went through all of your life. Your non existent love life. Your crush who didn’t like you back. You didn’t deserved this life but you couldn’t do anything about it.

“Y/n…I have to go now but call me if you need anything okay?” he said looking at you.

You nodded and when he left you laid on the couch and kept crying.

“Do I really deserve this life?” you asked yourself.

You couldn’t stay there.

You went into Kylian’s room and looked for money. He told you he kept some money in his closet so you looked there.

You found 7000€ in cash so you took them.

You looked for a piece of paper and wrote something.

I’m sorry but I have to leave. I can’t stay here. Thank you so much for everything you did for me, I’ll never forget it. I took some money but I promise you I’ll pay you back.

I hope you have a good life.

-your best friend, y/n

You placed the peace of paper on the table, not knowing if he would come back.

And with that you left. You didn’t know where you were going but you left. Leaving Paris behind. Leaving your life behind.