#so now both get an email with the old one attached

[penvisions]

services requested {chapter seven}

Pairing: Kept Man! Joel Miller x Sugar Momma! Reader

Summary: Fall bleeds into winter, even if the temperature doesn't change much in Austin. Everyday is packed in anticipation of the Ellie's graduation, the holidays fast approaching, and the opening of the shop. You and Joel find both common and rocky ground through it all, three different visitors throwing everything up in the air the moment you both think things are about to calm down...

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, underlying power dynamics, sexual undertones, masturbation (f), mutual pining, flirting, casual intimacy, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mentions of past trauma, minor injuries (not described), miscommunication (my beloved), public disagreement, lot of joel POV, hefty cliffhanger cause it's me lol (pls let me know if i missed any!)

A/N: gonna drop this and bounce cause i'm super sleepy, happy reading y'all! ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

Joel likes to think of himself as a simple man.

Just your average fifty-year-old, except he’s just turned fifty-three. His birthday this year…was better than the last few and certainly better than the ones he ignored in favor of doting on Sarah as she grew up and then Ellie as she became a part of the family.

The family he has around him, the life he’s made for himself. All the tough decisions of his teens and early twenties finally allowing him some peace. And you.

Captivating, alluring, so god damn beautiful and sweet he’s half convinced he’s going to startle awake on the couch from where he dozed off taking his shoes off after another long day of work in a never-ending cycle of long days of work.

You didn’t have to entertain him when he showed up at the airport, let alone allow him into your room, your space, your thoughts during the entire handful of days he spent out in a different city with you. But you did and did so happily. His trip out to see Sarah lifting his spirits even more. Then your return to Austin was all such a blur of anticipation and excitement. He’s a little overwhelmed- but in a good way in a new way.

It’s well into the end of the year now, with the holidays on the horizon and he’s pulling long hours on only one job – to get your shop ready for opening day on the first of the new year. Well, for the party he knows you’re planning for New Year’s in order to set off the opening the next day.

It’s in the calendar on his phone, attached to his email.

Among other things.

Like the photographer you hired for that party, the article interviews you’ve got to get done beforehand, the appointments that keep you just as busy as him building up and up, keeping you both occupied but he hopes that you think of him too, in the middle of it all.

He’s still…hesitant to use the card provided for non-work related things, though his own card now is a very taunting portal to a large sum in his personal account. Some of which he’s transferred to both Ellie’s and Sarah’s just because he can- because he wants them to know that he’ll take care of them no matter what. They haven’t said anything about the large deposits on each pay day, nor does he think they will.

But it’s enough paired with the proposition of gifting Ellie a car for her graduation come the middle of December that you’ve been kind enough to offer. She’s getting her associates, while Sarah went on to get something beyond her bachelors and is working through internships to make it happen during the last year. A few years between them and different paths that they’re taking in life, but he’s proud of them both all the same. Loves them both all the same.

He’d even thought about transferring some over to Tommy’s account. But the man would send it right back. Claiming Joel’s always done what he can but now that he’s in a financial situation the younger man doesn’t agree with, he can’t accept the money. Or some shit excuse along the lines Joel knows he would come up with. They’ve only sent brief texts to each other in the time since they sat down in that coffee shop all those months ago at the beginning of summer.

He misses the meals they would share, even when Tommy was being weird about the jobs he would take over the ones he wouldn’t. Fresh from his extremely close call of serious prison time due to his record of repeated offenses finally catching up with him. Both of them under the impression that the therapy was helping until it wasn’t. The beginning of the year starting off with a call from a jail cell and Joel being torn from the tv dinner he had just loaded into the oven and the shitty b action movie he waited too long to see loaded up on the living room tv.

That’s when they met Maria, assigned to his case and in charge of his future from that point on. But Joel saw it all unfold between them, the heated arguments over details, the nonstop meetings and days in court, all of it was their beginning. Tommy officially asked her out after they won his case with nothing but volunteer hours and a guarantee that he would pick therapy back up at Camp Mambry- one of the Austin military bases.

It's all so much, that’s happened this year so far.

He’s trying not to think too hard about things, to just let things happen the way they will. To take it day by day with the world and with you. To not overthink and let the easy-going connection and attraction be what it is. But now he’s here in the trailer at the job site between your legs and his brother has just walked in.

Two of the most important people in his world besides his girls coming face to face was not on his list of things to tackle today.

You clock the similarities between the two men immediately. The curls in their thick hair, though his is darker. The wide shoulders, though Joel is taller. The deep brown eyes, though this stranger’s hold contempt and watch the way you collect yourself a little too closely for comfort. But you take it in stride, knowing that this man holds space in your parents and Joel’s lives. Stepping forward, you hold your hand out in greeting.

“Hi there, you must be the elusive Tommy. I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” You look up to take in the tightness of his lips and the clench of his jaw, face littered with moles and freckles heavier than Joel. But he’s a handsome man all the same. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Manny and Lydia’s daughter.”

“Know you who you are.” He ignores your hand, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes bounce from you to his brother behind you.

“I had hoped we would meet that day of the inspection for the work on their place, but I get juggling a few too many things at a time.” You know you’re prattling on, but it’s to help bridge the gap and deflate the tension that seems to only rise within the confines of the small space. “I hope you’ve been doing well, though? They said you’ve been tending to your wife, Maria- was it? I hope she’s not too uncomfortable, but I’m more than happy to take her for a spa day to relax or to make a registry for the baby shower if y’all need the help?”

Joel steps closer to you, brushing the round of your shoulder in a soothing motion when you take your hand back and wipe a sweaty palm on your leg. Your gaze turns to him, confusion swirling in your eyes at the rather stiff way Tommy is just standing there. Eyes narrowed and shoulders tense. The firm line of Joel’s lips and the tension in his own body tells you that you’re missing something pivotal.

Joel mentioned that the talk with his brother hadn’t gone bad nor good, it was simply done. Tommy’s name is still on the payroll, though he hadn’t clocked in any hours since the shift from public to private operations. But you can recognize the need for space, the two brothers clearly have something to work out and you excuse yourself before disappearing through the door outside.

Tommy blinks, brows relaxing and jaw unclenching just slightly.

“She’s pretty, I’ll give her that.” Tommy breaks the silence, walking around Joel’s stiff form to plop down in one of the two chairs that face the desk. His eyes linger on the spot you were seated on before jumping up when he came in. “Polite too, though I can wager a guess you haven’t told her about our last conversation.”

“Watch it.” Joel’s voice holds a warning, his urge to protect you flaring.

“Just thought you would share with her that you and I ain’t exactly on good terms,”

“Been dealin’ with a lot, working to get the-“

“Oh save it, haven’t been dealin’ with too much to nail her on your desk.”

“I said watch it, Tommy.” He barks, not in the mood for the accusations and insinuations. Even if…this thing between you two escalated that far- he would make sure you got everything you deserved. Not some quick fuck in his office at a job site, even if his mind filed away the scene for potential later time.

“You should be the one watching it, big brother. She’s gonna hurt you and I’m not sayin’ I won’t be there but it’s not gonna be without a few things to say.”

“Good thing I have no interest in what you have to say then, isn’t it?”

Silence settles, both of them watching each other. Tommy’s eyes flicker and his face softens for the barest second before hardening back into an angry mask.

“Why are you here, Tommy?” Exasperation, a little argumentative but justified all the same.

“My hours at the base got cut, too few recruits and too many deployed,” The younger man deflates under the watchful eye of his brother. The space is safe, despite the tension in the air and the way they left things. He knows Joel will always help, do what he can to help. They’ve had no one but each other for most of their lives.

“And your benefits?”

“Still applicable. We-we’re fine on that front.”

“So you need work.”

“…yes.”

“Tommy, if you were anyone else with your track record-“

“I know,” He agrees, knowing that the situation isn’t ideal. He’d been treating Joel and the work like something of an inconvenience when it didn’t suit him and yet here is his asking for more hours even after Joel’s cut him loose completely. “If you have to talk to her about it and she disagrees, then…I’ll accept that.”

“She ain’t gonna turn you away and neither am I.”

“I’ll be better this time around, Joel, I promise.”

“Watch yourself, brother.” Joel pats a hand over Tommy’s shoulder before he pulls him into a brief embrace.

Tommy does watch. From the top of the little set of stairs leading up to the trailer door.

He watches the way Joel’s shoulders relax and his hands stop clenching the moment he’s back in your orbit. The way his face takes on a softer quality, his eyes never straying from you for too long. The easy way you two talk, the hand on his arm as you give him your full attention head on and undoubtedly ask the man if he’s okay. The dip of your foreheads, the way you linger around him even if his mouth doesn’t lift at the corner more than a fraction.

The attention you both dot on each other even as Joel guides you around the completed framework of the building, explaining with big sweeping arms where walls are due to go up and the next steps of the job. How you take the time to ask questions and Joel does his best to explain in ways for you to understand and soothe the little furrow of confusion in your brow or the downward pull of your lips.

He can see the woman that your parents have described to him, told him stories of. But he also sees someone who can hurt his brother, professionally and personally. Because Joel? Joel’s never acted like this with another client in their entire working history. There’s more between you two than the friendly rapport of someone with money swooping in to help a man privatize his business to keep it afloat in a more manageable way.

He watches the way you interact with the crew, that they like you and joke with you as much as they do Joel and did Tommy when he was steadily working alongside them. He watches the way Joel’s eyes flit back and forth between you and the crew as you make your way back to a modest vehicle.

He watches when your parents invite him and Maria over for dinner, claiming they miss him and to thank him for the work he helped get done on their house. Seems like you nor Joel told them that he had nothing to do with it, protecting them from his pettiness of just straight up telling Joel he won’t do the job because of needing to pull overtime with training at Camp Mabry. 

And of course, he watches the way his brother’s truck pulls up into the driveway across the street once Maria is settled in his own. The way his brother rounds the back of it and opens the door for you. The way he dips down to capture your lips in a soft kiss before guiding you into the house.

“Leave them be.” Maria says the moment he settles in the driver’s seat. “We didn’t have the most traditional meet cute and neither did they. It happens when it happens.”

Tommy watches, the energy Joel has and contains different from the beginning of the year.

Joel’s voice swirls around you, filling the space in a comforting and easy way as he rambles on about the things he’s got half done around the garage. The tools he’s got and the ones he’s looked into getting for the shop once he has the room for them, the things he’s excited to try and make.

You’ve got a content smile on your face as you watch him move confidently about the makeshift workshop, the guitars lining the walls that are in various shades of completion, the boards of wood he has stocked and organized on one wall leftover from the renovation he did on your house. He’s talking you through the guitar in his hand, the details of how he made it and stained it, the bone he hunted down around town in order to make it the most authentic he could.

He's adorable. He’s insanely attractive and yeah, he’s definitely info dumping but it’s entertaining to hear him speak so much. The passion he has for the whole set up he has and the things he devotes his free time to.

He pauses then, a hand coming up to the back of his neck as he realizes you haven’t said anything in nearly ten minutes. He opens his mouth to apologize but you walk up into his personal space and wrap your hands around his ribs. You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, pulling back a bit to whisper the words ‘show me’ and nod over to the guitar he set back down on the work table.

He dips his head kiss you deeply, one hand palming the small of your back while the other tilts your chin up.

“You’re too good to me, lettin’ me ramble on.” His eyes find yours and they’re so soft. You feel your stomach swoop, and you twirl your freshly done nails into the hair just beginning to curl at his neck.

“I could listen to you talk all day long, Mr. Miller.” His fingers pinch your chin a little tighter, his nose brushing against yours as he hovers so, impossibly close.

“Too good to be true.” His voice vibrates in your chest, lips ghosting yours before they press firmly once again.

“Jo-el! You sing song, walking into the trailer with a tray of to go coffee cups. But you stop dead in your tracks when you see Tommy sitting at the desk instead of your favored Miller brother. Your entire body breaks out in a sweat, nerves and anxiety brewing together in a nauseating way. He doesn’t like you and he isn’t safe, your mind repeats like a warning siren. You feel it heavy in your middle, face falling and you go to walk right back out. “Sorry, I-I…I didn’t know you were in here, he said he would be here already. I’ll just go wait in my car.”

“You don’t have to-“ Tommy stands quickly from the chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum of the trailer’s floor. You startle, the tray in your hand jerking and coffee stains the outside of the cups where it bubbles over. When he rounds the desk and goes to reach for it with a steady hand, the whole tray drops before his fingers can even skim it.

The door is slamming as he looks up from the mess of cream and coffee that leaks from the crumpled tray and popped open cups. It bounces off the frame, flying back open from the momentum for him to have a view of the job site. Your loose hair bounces as you practically sprint to your car, scrambling to get back inside. The engine turns over and you’re gone in the blink of an eye.

“Well shit.” He looks back down at the expanding puddle of coffee to see three separate cups before he looks for something to clean it up with.

Joel walks in just as he’s tossing the last bit of sopping paper towels into the trash bin. The stinging scent of coffee turned acidic, and disinfectants permeate the air despite the propped open door.

“Grey’s not here yet? She texted just a bit ago, was askin’ after your coffee order.” He takes a shiny key ring out of his back pocket and hands it

“She uh- I think I spooked her.”

“What?” He yanks his hand back just before Tommy can slip his ringers around the offering.

“She, well…she came in here all happy and singin’ after you but then she saw me and just froze.”

“What did you say to her?” His tone boasts the seriousness of his question, not that he thinks Tommy would lie to him.

“Nothin’, I swear to you. I’m being open minded here, just like I said.”

“She don’t do too well with hostility. Tore me a new one when I approached her that way a while back, a misunderstanding that…doesn’t matter now. But with her past, she avoids confrontations. If someone outwardly dislikes her, she avoids them, self-preservation.”

“I wasn’t bein’ hostile. I was trying to talk to her.”

“Did you reach for her?”

“For the coffee tray in her hand.” Joel rubs a palm over his face, covering his eyes and over his pinched brow.

“She doesn’t like people touchin’ her.” It’s all he has to say for Tommy to understand. Shared trauma making for sympathy and empathy where others would see weirdness. He's quiet as Joel busies himself with his phone to check on you while he fills out the paperwork drawn up for him to begin working underneath the new business head that is Miller Construction.

Once it's all said and done, Joel assures the younger man that you're okay. They both move in flawless tandem as they set about installing the electrical and power lines throughout the inner walls of the shop.

Ending the day at a diner and laughing over stupid events from past jobs.

“So my friend who I was in LA to help,” You break the easy morning from your spot at the stove. You pause to stir in a handful of herbs, salt and pepper into the pan you’ve got over the fire. Joel stills where he inspects space where your dishwasher normally sit snug underneath the counter. You feel his eyes on your back, taking in the way your muscles move as you expertly flip the content of the pan with a smooth jerk of your arm. “He’s gonna be coming in a few days to help paint and get the art all up on the walls before the opening, Beau.”

“The crew don’t mind pulling some overtime to get it done.”

“No, no, it’s okay, really.” You shut off the burner and serve up the contents of the pan between two plates waiting on the counter. When you turn around, he’s putting the wrench in his hand back into the toolbox and begins to wipe off his hands with the rag hanging from his back pocket. “He wants to help and my hands can get a little dirty.”

You move to the stools on the other side of the island, leaning back into it as you set the plates down with a pair of forks. Pulling the wooden cady that houses the collection of hot sauces and condiments closer to put a few dashes of one of them over your scramble.

“Whatever you want, just wanted to make sure.”

“Besides, I want the guys to enjoy their time off until work starts on the shopfront.” You smile over at Joel as he glances over the manual for the dishwasher on the floor, pulling out the tools he’ll need for the next bit of work it requires. Once he’s done that, he wipes his hands again before standing up straight.

“I’ve got an eye on a couple used cars,” He says after he refills his designated owl mug, reaching to top off the one in your loose grasp. You’re about to get up when your nose crinkles at a small spasm in your back, but Joel is there with a soothing hand up and down it as he pours your preferred creamer into the mug as well. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Just sat weird yesterday, long session on someone’s calves.” You lean into him a bit more, his other hand reaching underneath the hem of your baggy band shirt to gently prod around the scar on your side. You sigh at the warmth stemming from him, like a personal heating pad.

“Can help out some tiger balm or somethin’ on, if you need to me.”

“I gotta shower after this, especially if we’re gonna go to a dealership.” You recall the last time his hands were on you, recall the way you touched yourself just an hour ago to the memory of panting bodies and reverent hands exploring each other to find a slow, drawn out release underneath your sheets. Tension slowly builds in the room as you both seem to be consumed by the same memories of that hotel room. A shared experience that hasn’t happened since- both of you so busy, so committed to taking it slow and not pushing the other. But you hope, you wish, that you’re not the only one with it on your mind.

The easy intimacy and domesticity you both share heady and comforting in its own way, but…you hope that he too, is thinking about the other things you share. The attraction, the wanting, the desire, the arousal that courses dully through your body now. You reach for his other hand and bring it up to place a kiss on his palm and you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“Was gonna ask you, yeah. Noticed there’s nothing on the calendar for today but wasn’t sure if you were up to personal stuff or gonna have a lazy day.” He swallows hard, his words a little breathless as slowly entangles from you to return the creamer to the fridge. He takes the stool beside you and gives you a crooked smile as he begins to dig into the breakfast in front of him. “No pressure though, I know we agreed on Christmas.”

“I still think it’s the best time. That way we can enjoy the day and still have her graduation party without her wanting to rush off and enjoy her new wheels.”

“She’s gonna be a menace, finally havin’ a car to get around in.”

“Is…is there a reason why you’ve both waited this long? She hasn’t exactly been begging for one from what I’ve seen.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, the both of you taking bites of the meal and sipping the cooling coffee. Its not uncomfortable, but you know his mind is working overtime as he thinks over your question. You’re about to reassure him it’s none of your business and you were merely curious when he lowers his fork and turns to you with an open expression.

“We, uh…we’ve talked it through before but she doesn’t push this. The last time she had the freedom of a car, well…you’ve seen the scar on her arm.”

“Accident?”

“Yes and no.” Joel brings a hand to caress gently over your back again, staying politely over the fabric of your shirt. “She didn’t have the easiest upbringing, momma got sick when she was young. Friend of her mom’s took her in but wasn’t the best caretaker, then she was in the system for a long while.”

“She’s excited to cover it up, but she hasn’t really talked about it.”

“Doesn’t like to. Which I get.” He spins his fork in the food, thinking over his next words. You wait patiently, knowing that he doesn’t want to betray the young girl but still wants to share with you details of their past. “Hydroplaned after a summer storm right out of high school, wrapped around a tree. She confessed to me after everythin’ that she deliberately dragged her arm over the smoking engine to cover up the scar she had there from her last foster home.”

“Foster parents?”

“Fight between her and another kid the family took in. Too many of them and too little space, wasn’t a good environment for anyone. Said she didn’t want to see it anymore and be reminded of that part of her life.”

“She’s so lucky to have you, Joel.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you stand, pressing a kiss to his temple before taking the empty plate from him and stacking it with your own.

“Lucky to have her, sweetheart.”

The invitation to Ellie’s graduation is hand delivered by her one evening, driven over to your house by Joel just as you’re removing dinner from the oven. He texted to let you know that they would be by this evening and you planned to have something ready for them. It’s a lively evening, going over the plans for what would be best for everyone. A simple backyard barbeque is agreed upon.

It’s a blur of graduation caps and robes, of balloons and cheers as her class walks one by one across the stage. When her name is called, all three of your little group jump up and shout out for her. Her big, toothy smile one of the best sights you’ve seen in your entire life as she raises her diploma in one hand high into the air and proceeds to stick her tongue out and raise the other in a ‘rock and role’ gesture.

Everyone is animated as you wind through the crowd back to Joel’s truck and then through traffic back to their house.

Your parents, Tommy and Maria, and Beau along with his boyfriend have transformed the backyard into the perfect party set up.

It’s chaotic, but in a good way. Music playing and the grill sizzling. Splashes of the pool being enjoyed and the hum of conversations fill the backyard. Ellie nearly lost her head when she saw the dinosaur pinata that you and your mom hunted down for her. Her small group of friends and Sarah enthusiastically taking turns pummeling it with a bat while Joel carefully watched the scene play out. None of them argued it was too childish and the surprise of it was accepted just as she is, bringing a warm feeling in your chest.

You reach into the fridge for another case of beer when you hear footsteps and then the sliding of the screen door that leads into the yard. Tommy’s voice calls out as he enters the kitchen and you do your best to still your racing heart.

“Grey, you got a minute?” He clears his throat, voice a little low. The younger Miller brother looks a little nervous, but there’s a determined glint in his eyes and you only hope it guides the conversation in a positive direction rather than a bad one. You know he’s been working alongside Joel, tacking on hours nearly every day. You’ve approved two or three checks now to deposit into an account with his name alongside the others of the crew.  

“Oh, of course. What’s on your mind?” You wonder for a brief moment if there was something wrong with the latest one, but you truly didn’t expect the next words that leave his lips as he crosses his arms and holds your gaze over the counter.

“I wanted to apologize.” Just as your mouth opens to protest, he continues on.

“I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, me bein’ protective of Joel and then the whole…coffee incident. But you’re…you’re a really amazin’ person, you’ve done a lot for your parents and my own family.”

“Tommy, you don’t have to thank me, really.” You toy with the flaps of carboard that keep the case of beer sealed, the undivided attention making you a little nervous even if it turns out it was with good intentions.

“I do, because…I ain’t ever seen Joel so happy. He deserves to be happy. You both do, no matter how it happens.”

“He makes me happy too,” You confess with a small smile, allowing yourself to take the moment for what it is and not read anything into it. Because it’s true and you shouldn’t feel any shame for finding good in the things you’ve surrounded yourself with.

“I was thinking of a deep green here, black and gold accents. Maybe a few couches here? The desk should be big enough for Alice to have a good system of a desktop, printer…whatever else she wants too.” You turn with your arms wide and wrists flicking this way and that as you work out your thoughts for the space. “I would like to put in a little coffee bar here even though I know that caffeine is technically ‘bad’ right before a tattoo but for after or those just stopping by to look or for consultations. One of those vintage mini fridges for other drinks and cold snacks.”

The walls have just gone up, after the electrical and the subfloor ready for the hardwood flooring you poured over countless catalogues to pick out.

The sound of a car pulling up outside has you and Joel both turning to face the large windows on both sides of the door. Before he can even register you’ve moved, you’re out through it and launching yourself at the man who’s just shut the driver’s side door. Joel recognizes him from the photos you showed him of your time in LA after he left, chest tightening at the easy way you wrap your arms around the man’s neck and give him a chaste peck on the lips.

Your laughter is like music in the warm air, projected far as you’re spun around in the man’s tight hold.

“Baby, you look amazing,” He laughs along with you, setting you back down from where he lifted you but not releasing his hands from around your waist. Green eyes catching the light as he glances up and behind you toward Joel approaching the opening where a door will eventually go. “Oh, hello there, you must be the one and only Joel Miller!”

“Joel!” You turn to dazzle him with a bright smile and his stomach flutters as you bounce back to him and wrap both your arms around his left one. “This is Beau, he’s here to help in anyway you can put him to work with the painting.”

“Nice to meet you, how was your flight?”

“Good god, your voice is like honey with that drawl. Baby, why didn’t you tell me his accent is as gorgeous as he is?”

Joel feels heat flare behind his cheeks, free hand moving to the back of his neck in his tell tale sign of nerves. When he glances down at you, he’s got all of your attention. Eyes roving over his face and catching on the plush of his lips as he rolls them, not quite sure what to say in response to the compliment.

“Oh, stop it, he’s just you’re regular ole Texan. Kinda comes with the environment.”

“You know,” Beau narrows his eyes and points a finger directly at you. It stirs something in Joel and the arm in your grasp tenses, the other coming to wrist over one of your hands wrapped around him. “You got a little of that twang now that I’m hearing you.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You press closer to Joel, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with an almost pleading expression. “I don’t have an accent, do I?”

“Dunno, darlin’. You tend to slur the end of your words when you’re tired. Vowels are kinda stretched too sometimes.”

“See, Joel agrees with me. You’re turning into a regular ole Texan, yourself, baby.”

“Okay, Mr. West Coast who doesn’t pronounce the ‘t’s in anything.”

He gasps dramatically, holding up a hand to his chest in mock affront.

“I thought we were friends, why you gotta do me like that?” Sticking your tongue out at him, you revel in how light you feel, how normal this all feels. This is your life, the one you created out of nothing, out of an abrupt new beginning and you couldn’t be more happy.

“Cause you started it, and if I know one thing about this one here,” Joel jostles you, settling into the dynamic now that his shock has worn off. “You give her an inch and she takes the whole damn mile.”

“Yeah, but she deserves whatever she decides to take.”  Beau’s look softens a little as he watches the way you dip your head and Joel’s hand tightens around yours as he murmurs his agreement.

A few hours go by, both men listening to you explain where you want what colors and then all three of you get to work. The primer goes on and Tommy brings by lunch from a local pizza place about halfway through. You greet him with a shy smile and a little wave as he pulls up outside, where you took a moment to retrieve something from your car’s trunk.

“Well, hey there.” He smiles back at you, a little hesitant himself. “How’s it all lookin’ so far? Everything you wanted it to be.”

“It’s amazing, honestly. Everyone has been so gracious and the attention to detail is really appreciated.”

You walk alongside him back to the propped open door, everyone greeting him easily as the boxes are opened and the beer is popped open. Ever since the party, you’ve both been able to engage with each other on friendlier terms. Both of you trying to overcome the weird beginnings and moving forward. A friendship is slowly developing between you two, similar music tastes, the conversation of a memorial tattoo that you’ve begun to sketch out for when he’s ready to commit to it fully.

It's proven as much now as all four of you toss banter back and forth as the primer gives way testing the colors on each wall in small squares to determine where each one looks best. Splotches land on clothes and clump in tied up hair. Tommy has a handprint on his shoulder from where you got him back for sprinkling some across your face when he loaded too much on a roller brush.

It isn’t until later that Joel realizes just how unprofessional it was to be so physical with you in front of your friend. He thinks over the moment, again and again. Startled to realize that he hadn’t overthought any of the interactions, everything had been so natural. From the easy, teasing banter, to not tensing as you wrapped your arms around him or worrying about how it might look when he did the same.

Your friend has an easy-going energy, likable and friendly. Interaction like breathing for you and as an extension for him as well, because you’re so comfortable around the man. But he knows that the man must see what others do, what outsiders do. You doting on him, helping him in a way he didn’t know he needed and he’s just- he’s just an old man taking the attention like it’s something he deserves, like its something he hasn’t had in a long time.

The dynamic still weighs on him, even if you assure him time and time again that you don’t care what others think. The hotel room, the other day in your bedroom, all of it flashes behind his closed eyes when he’s lying down for bed or just walking up in the morning and he wants more of it, more of that, more of you. But he also sees the way your first interaction with Tommy went, can picture clearly the second one he wasn’t a direct witness to- you have trouble sometimes. And he suspects that you’re worried about upsetting his brother more than you let on, though you  try to mend the bridge of a bad first impression.

Maria likes you, flocked to you as you help her to make lists and organize doctor appointments that are increasing. The two of you frequenting lunch and movie theatres to spend time with each other, a connection that brings out your friendly and caring side. Another thing that could catch fire if either of you overstep or move too fast, another thing that could fall apart should you both become too obvious in your affections with each other and it doesn’t turn out to be a lasting connection.

His thoughts consume him, the ones that tell him he’s not good enough, attractive enough, just not enough in general to keep your attention much beyond a the flawless working relationship you two have cultivated since the summer. His friends can sense the shift in him, the two men who’s bar he frequents and his family senses it all the same- even if no one voices it. He doesn’t want to feel the way he did after his marriage ended, ever again. He voices all of his concerns in therapy, the twice monthly appointment he’s been unwilling to put down in the shared calendar.

The ultimate truth of the matter is that you consume his thoughts, and he worries he doesn’t hold as much space in yours. Even if you’ve integrated into a lot of aspects of his life willingly and carefully.

Joels’ been a little on edge lately, most likely due to the time constraints that are bearing down on him to get things finished for the grand opening of the shop. He’s been at the location more and more, signing for delivers, helping Alice to set up the lobby the way she wants, helping to get things hung up and fixtures installed for the bathroom and required sinks within the actual studio space required by law.

But today, the day before Christmas Eve, you two are braving the local outdoor outlet. The shops crowded and everyone is in a frenzy for last minute shopping. He hadn’t wanted to go particularly and neither did you. Thankfully the higher end shops are less so, the sales associates more accommodating and present.

Joel’s got a handful of nice jeans and slacks in his hand when he announced that he’s about ready to start trying things on.

“Okay, Plato.” You roll your eyes as your guide him by the shoulders toward the dressing room. “Let’s go see how these ones look before we pick up anything else.”

“I ain’t no philosopher, don’t call me that.” He gripes good naturally, no heat behind his words despite the way he tenses slightly under your palms. You look around and you get the sense that he’s a little nervous about being so plainly in public. Of touching so plainly in public. With you.

“I’m not makin’ fun of you, Joel. I’m complimenting you.” You lean up on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. “Plato mean’s ‘broad shouldered’.”

He jolts, the tips of his hears tinge pink and the column of his neck flushes as he steps from away from you. A figure breezes by, going back toward the sales floor just as you two cross over into the dressing rooms at the back of the store. Your hands slide down and trail over his shoulder blades at the action, but he’s completely tense now, no more playfulness about him.

“What?” You ask with a tilt of your head, hands held up and away from him. Confusion flares, concern fills your face. Guilt consumes you, you shouldn’t have been so forward. “I was only teasing, I’m sorry.”

“I think-“ He doesn’t look up from where he puts the items in his hands down on the return rack, though he does pivot on his feet and his profile comes into view. His eyes are pinched, mouth a firm line that makes your stomach clench and your chest hurt. “I think I’m just gonna go, don’t feel much like playin’ right now.”

“O-oh, okay.” Your words are quiet, voice strained as you try to muster up a smile that you know looks more like a grimace. But he doesn’t look at you, not even over his shoulder in a quick glance.

“Sorry for draggin’ you out of the house, darlin’.” And then he’s gone, his steps thudding on the tile as he weaves his way through the racks and displays throughout the store.

You just stand there, feeling thoroughly lectured and told to go stand in the corner, ears hot and hands tingling. You apologize to the sales associates on your way out, thanking them for their help and wish them a good day. You drive home in complete silence, completely spaced out and on autopilot.

Your mind focuses once you stop at the intersection that leads into your neighborhood, your light turns green and you accelerate. All of a sudden, your head is fuzzy once again as your car lurches, glass shatters and metal screeches.

Do you want us to call anyone?

No.

Are you sure? We called 911, they’re on the way.

I’m…sure…

Family, a partner, kids, a friend? You sure?

No calls.

Someone to meet you at the hospital?

No.

It’s warped, the memory, but you know it happened. The beep of the monitor beside you and the stick of the IV port in your arm tell you as much even as you slowly come to. Your phone lies beside you where the tray for you bed is pushed off to the side. The screen is cracked underneath the splintered screen protector. Sighing, you slump back into the pillows keeping you propped up.

You know your parents’ numbers by heart, but you don’t want to worry them even now. Instead, you hit the call button for the nurse set atop the covers over your lap. You’re a little groggy and your body feels so sore from even that small movement.

“Hello, hello, welcome back to the land of the living!” The nurse is younger than you but something about her makes you feel at ease. There’s no judgment or banality in her expression, she enjoys her job- helping people. You can feel it in the way she’s trying to lighten your mood as you watch her with tired eyes.

“I dunno, hospitals are kinda like small scale hells.” She laughs at the deadpan tone of your voice.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, how are you feeling, honey? Do you need another shot for the pain?” Her hands are light but sure as she goes about taking your vitals.

“I think I’m okay right now, is anything broken? It’s a little hard to move.” Your back twinges as you hold up your arm for her to slip the blood pressure cuff over it.

“No, no, just your muscles being strained from the impact. Took a pretty hard hit, I hear?” She doesn’t make you raise your arm to remove the cuff, instead sliding it carefully from around your arm, she must’ve noticed the wince in your face.

“Someone ran a light.” You say, trying to keep your breathing as even as normal for her as she now presses the stethoscope to your front and then your back as she carefully urges you forward. The hospital gown in thin and you shiver a little as it pairs with the metal. She smiles kindly at you as she helps you lay back against the pillows.

“Probably rushing around to get ready for the holiday. All sense goes out the window this time of the year, but you’re gonna be okay. The doctors will be in soon to go over everything and get you discharged.” She signs off on the chart hanging off the foot of your bed and then she’s gone. She leaves the door open a bit behind her.

Closing your eyes, you take a moment to just be. The worries of finding your car, potentially getting a new one, the items you had stored in it, the registration, how you’re going to get home, if you’re going to tell anyone after everything is all cleared for you to leave, all of it hovers in the back of your head. But you don’t let it bother you at the moment, you just take mental stock of your body and how it feels. It’s nowhere near as detrimental as the last time you laid in a hospital bed…and for that you’re grateful.

“Guess who forgot to change their emergency contact?”

Your head flies up, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. Your ex-husband is standing in the doorway with a sickening smirk.

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[lookingfts]

Enjoy media again

This is a bit of a long one, but if you want to change your relationship to technology in a manageable but effective way, you might find this interesting.

Over the past year or so, I’ve realized how exhausting technology has become. I’m a Millennial, so I grew up with CDs and VHS/DVDs. I was attached to the hip with my iPod and I have fond memories of browsing video stores to pick something for family movie night.

Then came smartphones, and streaming. And I was happy with both for years, until I realized:

I hate my phone. And I hate streaming. And I hate, more generally, what modern technology has evolved into.

Everything is designed to die quickly, to hoard your attention, to screw creators and suck your energy and joy dry.

I’m not alone in this, of course. At the end of this post, I’ll link to some great videos that helped motivate me in making changes.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide, but I wanted to share a bit of the journey I’ve been on and the changes I’ve made to fix my screwed-up relationship with technology.

First up: my phone is a black hole.

If you asked me, I would say I’m not addicted to my phone. I rarely use any social media except for Tumblr. I don’t need to use my phone much for work. And yet, somehow, my screen time was consistently seven hours or more.

How? Where was that time even going?

So I started taking suggestions from other people and applying them to my smartphone. Here are the big ones, and how well they worked for me.

1. Deleting games

This is pretty self-explanatory. If there’s a game on my phone, I’ll blink and suddenly be on level 400. It’s what I do while I watch TV. And I never feel like I have anything to show for it. Games are not inherently the problem; but without any kind of tangibility, it just all washes over me with no impact.

So I don’t keep games on my phone. If I’m really itching to play something, the Google browser has some free games without ads, like Solitaire. But even that I have to tread carefully with – it’s too easy to keep shuffling. I have a hunch that if I broke out a card deck and played Solitaire the old-fashioned way, I’d get a lot more out of the experience.

2. Hiding apps from the home screen

Some apps just stare at you. If you hold down until the app wiggles, and press Remove App, you have the option to remove it from the home screen but keep it in your app menu. I find this extremely helpful for apps that often distract me. For me, that’s email and Tumblr. Those are my “slot machine” apps – the ones that I refresh to get the hit of dopamine from something new. The point is for me to have to work slightly harder to get to them. To create friction between me and my time wasters.

The first day after you move something, you will compulsively click on that slot 100 times. And then you'll realize how much you were reaching for it.

3. Setting time limits for apps

The first night that I set a 45-minute time limit for email, Tumblr, and Instagram (which I rarely used to use, but had recently found myself checking mindlessly, even though I can barely see the actual posts from my friends anymore) – I was already over the limit for the day. That felt like a wake-up call. Why was I on my email for 45 minutes? There’s nothing critically important in my email. Ever.

I find myself with a different mindset when I open these apps now. The ticking clock in my head makes me view each moment I spend on there as precious. The goal is to see everything I want to see before I’m blocked. This artificial scarcity makes it more interesting and less compulsive.

4. Changing my phone to black and white

This. THIS. This is the single thing that brought my screen time from 7 hours a day to about 1 hour a day.

Putting my phone into black and white did something to my brain. Almost immediately, I could feel that my eyes were less strained and my mind was quieter. I did not expect that.

It’s an accessibility setting, and it’s not easy to get to, for obvious reasons (Apple doesn't want you to). For iPhone, you can go to Settings > Accessibility > Display & Text Size > Color Filters. I used the Grayscale and there’s an option to control the intensity of the filter. I have mine at about 85%, since the full 100% grayscale is a little hard for me to see.

I’m not kidding. This is game-changing. It takes away 90% of the temptation of your phone. I can still do everything I need to do – and for the things I want to do, like looking at pictures in color or watching videos, I use my iPad or my laptop or my TV. Those devices have never had the same issue of overuse for me; I think phones tend to be the easiest to abuse. But whatever device causes you problems, you can probably use some variation of these tips to help.

Second: streaming sucks now.

Not just the cost, or the ads, or the fact that you need 7 different services to watch everything you want.

For me, it was the decision paralysis. Every time I booted up Netflix, I felt overwhelmed by choice. How do you wade through all the low-quality filler to find something interesting? Nope, nothing here. Move to Amazon Prime. Move to YouTube movies. Move to Disney+.

I not only found it exhausting…I felt as though the endless choice was making media meaningless. Movies, TV shows, and music were all blurring together in my brain. Once in a blue moon did I actually get excited about something I saw on a streaming platform.

There are other issues: streaming movies and shows can be altered. They can be deleted without warning; even for things you bought. Algorithms control what you see, and you lose the feeling of choosing for yourself.

Now, I kept Netflix, mostly for its original shows. I’m on the lowest ad-supported plan, which is about $9 a month. I may cancel it and only keep it for a few months out of the year, to catch up on everything at once. It’s not hard, with seasons being like 8 episodes.

But I canceled everything else. I canceled Sirius, I canceled YouTube Premium, I let it all go.

Here’s what I did instead:

1. I got a library card.

I’m privileged to have a lovely library very close to me, and I was embarrassed that after 13 years of living in this town, I didn’t have a card. I recently started getting back into reading physical books as well. So I got my library card and checked out some books.

I had no idea how much libraries offer now. With my library card came completely free access to Freegal Music, Hoopla, and Libby. Those will probably vary depending on your library.

Freegal Music is basically like any streaming music services, only you’re limited to five downloads a week. But you can stream almost anything, and I find that the curated playlists take me out of the "sameness" that I felt with my YouTube Music playlists.

Libby and Hoopla have e-books, movies, TV shows, audiobooks, music, and binge passes that you can check out to binge content on other streaming services.

I’ve barely scratched the service of what’s available. Of course, the selection is slightly more limited, and you have to “borrow” things electronically before you can use them. But that only works in favor of my quest to feel more connected to the media I experience. There’s a time limit on it, and that creates some kind of urgency.

If you’re lucky enough to have access to a library, please use it. I wish I hadn’t waited so long. Even if you go literally one time, just to get a card, you can enjoy so many of their digital offerings. (Though my library does also offer fun in-person events, like reading clubs and craft classes. And you can check out 50 things at a time. 50!!!! For a month!!!!)

2. I bought DVDs.

Recently, I went down a rabbit hole about physical media. Like everyone else, I tossed all my DVDs and CDs years ago. Waste of space. It’s old tech.

But it’s true: you can’t own digital media. It’s not yours – you’re only renting it, even when you buy it.

I’m a pretty avid thrifter, and I had always seen the tons of DVDs and CDs and vinyls at thrift stores, but I never bothered to look.

So that was my first stop. I went to my favorite thrift store and found a Blu-ray player for about $9 and a DVD player for $7 (in case one of them didn’t work). Let me tell you – I had a BLAST picking out DVDs. It was so much more fun than clicking through a streaming menu. Right now I have a little over 30 DVDs (at a couple of bucks each – each one was literally cheaper than me renting a digital copy), including tons of my all-time favorite movies. I was shocked that I found so many of my A-list faves on my very first trip – Sunshine, Pride & Prejudice, the whole LOTR trilogy.

Feel free to judge my taste...I don't mind.

(You can also rent DVDs at the library.)

I made sure to buy players that came with the cords so I didn’t have to buy any (I’m only moderately tech literate) and it works great.

Beyond the fact that DVDs and Blu-rays aren’t compressed like streaming and so might actually look and sound better – I was just excited about media, for the first time in a long time. These are my favorites. I own them. I get to look through this collection and decide what I’m in the mood for. I get to keep hunting and find even more of my favorites.

I also got a handful of CDs. I love the way they look. I love interacting with media again. Fortunately, I have the space to display them, but you can also remove them from the cases and put them into a CD sleeve.

A huge used physical media store opened down the street. I’m so excited to see what they have. It might become my new favorite place.

I can still stream on Netflix. I can still buy a movie on Vudu or whatever if it’s something I’m really in the mood to watch. That option isn’t going anywhere. And if you like streaming certain things, go for it. I am not against streaming as a concept. I just felt like streaming had become this draining, chaotic maze that I was lost in, instead of something that made my life better and more convenient.

Maybe we need a little inconvenience. Maybe having everything in the palm of our hand only devalues those experiences and lessens the impact.

Maybe some of these things that I did aren’t available to you – but hopefully some are. I hope this is helpful to anyone who feels like I do. This is just part of my journey, and I want to continue finding a way to live more actively and intentionally in this world that is trying so hard to make us isolated, tired, and passive.

A big shoutout to all these creators who inspired me. Here are a few videos that really helped me:

Only Consuming Media from the Library

The Importance of Inconvenience

Using This iPod for 30 Days Changed My Life (a series)

Replace all of your subscriptions with a library card

[witchygagirlwrites]

Mistake

Jay Halstead x Reader (Nicknamed Jinx)

You're only back a week before your resolve fades when it comes to him. How the hell can you manage this with your heart intact?

Smut? Angst?

You were raised by your uncle Russ, a marine who’d done four tours before being handed a baby girl and being told “Congratulations you’re the only one there is that’s there to raise her” the man had done a pretty decent job if you said so yourself. He gave you a good sense of right and wrong, of who you were as a person and of what lines to draw in the sand. You knew what you could take and what you couldn’t.

You never thought you’d end up falling for Jay when you got partnered with him. He was gorgeous, yeah but damn you had eyes. He was also coming off a serious relationship. He loved Erin, he had lived with her, you’d heard Adam talking to Kim about how Jay had once considered proposing to Erin. You really wouldn’t want to be the act to go on after that and yet you found yourself falling for him within about two months of being his partner.

You’d gotten hurt, not bad mind you but you’d ended up getting tossed through a fence underneath a six foot five perp. The chainlink had bit into your side and dug in to the point you had to pry it out of your flesh. Jay went to Med with you, stayed in the room while Connor sewed you up and had given you his extra shirt to wear back considering yours was shredded.

He’d asked you out around the six month mark. You’d ended up in his bed around the seven month mark and your heart was his. Unfortunately that was also the same time you started hearing the word “rebound” being tossed around with your name attached to it. “Poor thing doesn’t see he’s using her to get over Erin” “She doesn’t see she’s not even his usual type?” “Jay has a type and Jinx is not it” “She’s a rebound to get him back into the game, that’s it”

You tried so hard to not let it get to you, you really did but Jay had photos of Erin on his wall. He’d been with her a while. You wouldn’t be one of those girlfriends but you couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach every time you thought too hard about it. You knew you loved Jay, you were in love with him but you were not telling him that. A part of you knew he still loved Erin, things like that didn’t burn out over night but maybe he could love you too if you just tried hard enough? 

You were at his place one night, one of his buddies called. Jay said he hadn’t spoken to him in a while. You knew he hadn’t. Yet when he asked Jay how Erin was it made your stomach churn. What the fuck were you doing? 

That was the night you decided you couldn’t be a rebound. You loved Jay, you truly did but it was best for you both for you to be the one to do a break.  Sergeant Benson had already contacted you once about the prospect of a temp position in New York so you sent her an email to accept and told Voight as well.  

The only problem was you couldn’t leave Chicago without being in Jay’s arms one last time because you knew when you left he’d find someone new.  You sought him out and let yourself pretend, just for a few hours, that it meant to him what it meant to you then when he fell asleep you left a kiss on his lips and slipped your clothes on before leaving.

Now, being home in Chicago? It felt so damn strange. “So, Voight put you right back with Halstead?” you cut your eyes up over the rim of your coffee mug “You don’t have to seem so damn smug about it uncle Russ” 

He shrugged “Like I told you before I aint telling you how to live your life, I’ve never tried to but baby girl that man looked whipped when he came here looking for you. You didn’t even tell him you were leaving” you sighed “Jay’s a good man. I never said he wasn’t but he came here looking for his missing partner. Not as a man looking for a woman” your uncle Russ raised an eyebrow “Do you think I’m an idiot because I’m a man or because I’m old?”

You laughed and shook your head “I gotta get to work” he grinned “And that is what we call problem avoidance Jinxy” you shook your head “See ya later old man” and blew him a kiss before walking out of the door.

___________________

You parked your suv next to Jay’s truck and took a deep breath before getting out. You grabbed your stuff and headed inside. When you walked past the front desk you smiled at Trudy “Morning” she nodded “Morning Jinx. Good to have you home”

You walked up the stairs and stopped at the palm scanner before heading up. You knew Jay would be there, those eyes boring into you. A part of you wished he had moved on while the other part died inside at thinking of it. You walked up the stairs into the bullpen and your eyes met Jay’s first thing. “Morning” Adam spoke and you tore your eyes from Jay to tell him “Morning”

You walked over to put your stuff away as Voight came out of his office “Gear up, we roll in five. Bank robbery on the north end” everyone stood to head down to roll up and you could feel Jay’s presence at your back without even looking. 

____________________

When you slipped your vest over your head Jay reached to double check it. You swallowed hard and moved your hair out the way as he tugged one of the straps “There ya go” you nodded “Thanks” and finished gearing up before grabbing your long gun to follow him out to his truck.  

You double checked everything as he pulled out on the road between Voight and Adam. “We good?” he asked and you nodded “Perfect” he nodded slowly “Ok” and focused his eyes on the road.  “Can we talk later?” he asked and you laughed lightly “Bank robbery Jay” he nodded “Right” and turned his eyes back to the road again “Right”

“I got it!” you hollered, chasing one of the men who’d ran out of the safe house and hearing Adam’s footsteps fall in next to you “On your left Jinx” he called out as you and him split the alley to catch up on the perp.

Your boots slammed against the concrete as you hollered “CPD FREEZE” and the man spun to fire on you. You hit the ground and rolled behind a dumpster.  Fuck. You scrambled to hit your com “Adam?” “I’m good” he called across the coms, the back feed squealing from how close you were but it wasn’t like you could get up and look.

You scooted to the edge of the dumpster and aimed for the perp’s knee. He went down hard “Offender down. I repeat offender down” you called over the com. You slowly moved out from cover, Adam doing the same. You both had your guns at ready as you approached the man. You kicked his gun away as Adam cuffed him. 

“Son of a bitch, you took us for a run” you muttered then hit your radio “We need an ambulance for a gsw to the left knee” and heard the dispatcher repeat it. You nodded to Adam “You got him? I need to grab the first aid kit out of one of the cars to get the bleeding stopped” he nodded “Yeah I got it”

By then Hailey and Kevin had caught up and luckily Hailey already had one of the first aid kits with her “Jinx” she held it out and you took it with a smile “Thanks”

___________________

You were standing to the side as the perp was loaded onto the ambulance. Adam was going with him and Kim was following. “Good shot Jinx” Voight commended and you nodded “Thank you sir”  Jay was standing about three feet from you “You must have been up to a lot in New York” you laughed “If only you knew Halstead” and turned back to a conversation with Hailey.  You spent one too many days chasing offenders down in way too tight of spaces and avoiding gunfire. 

You cut your eyes at Jay and saw him watching you. God your heart ached when he looked at you like that.

_________________

Jay watched you as you put your gear away in roll up. Fuck he’d missed you. He’d wanted nothing more than to have you home and now here you were. You’d been back a week and had yet to speak to him over a few words. He clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to touch you. You weren’t his, no matter how bad he wanted you. You weren’t his. You leaned up to put your vest away and Kevin who was standing next to you let out a low whistle “Damn Jinx, the hell happened?”

Jay’s feet were moving before he thought of himself. Kevin was holding your shirt up and he could see a long jagged scar running up from your hip across to just above your naval. You glanced down at it then up at Kevin and shrugged “Knife. Some asshole sliced the shit out of me in close quarters but I got the eight year old he had hostage back so, a win’s a win”

“A win’s a win? That had to have been over twenty stitches” Jay blurted out, making Kevin and Hailey’s eyes widened. You nodded “Was twenty eight as a matter of fact and yeah, I didn’t die and I got the kid back” 

You were mentally kicking yourself for not paying better attention, especially when Jay walked over and his fingers reached out to brush across the still pink scar. Your body automatically reacted to his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingers. “Honey” he breathed out and

you tensed at the name “Don’t call me that” before you snatched  your shirt down. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked and you shrugged “Didn’t really seem right to only call to say I was in the hospital” he nodded slowly “I would’ve taken what I could get” you swallowed hard, eye flickering towards Hailey and Kevin, “Yeah, not doing this” then turned and walked away.

Jay caught you when you were going out to your suv. “Can we talk?” you sighed “Fine. I’ll follow you to your place, it’s closer and if Russ sees your truck he’s gonna annoy the hell out of me”

He smirked slightly “Ok” and walked to his truck. This was a bad idea but you couldn’t take any more of the little looks, the touches, the concern. It was time to bury it.

_____________________

You parked behind Jay’s truck and walked up to his door. When you knocked he opened it with a smile “Hey” and stepped back to let you in. You walked into his living room and stopped. God everything looked just like it had the last time you’d stepped foot in it. You turned to face him “Ok, I’m here. Talk so I can go home” 

He took a step towards you, pushing your hair back from your face “This is the first time you’ve been alone around me since getting back. Can I just look at you for a second?” you looked up at him and felt your eyes tear up “I’d rather not” “Honey, what did I do?” he whispered and you shook your head “I said don’t call me that” his eyes teared up slightly then “But you are my honey, remember?”

It was just a stupid joke. You’d asked Jay to grab you something out of the bakery for breakfast so he grabbed a fresh honeybun. When he’d brought it out to you he’d grinned as he handed it to you “A Honey for my honey” and brushed a gentle kiss against your lips. That was your first kiss.

“No, I’m not Jay” you breathed and he shook his head “Why did you leave me? You were here that night, you let me touch you, taste you, fuck you then you left me. I don’t understand. I called, I texted, baby I went to Russ” he shrugged, his hand cupping your chin “I tried so damn hard to treat you good and you still left me” you closed your eyes, swallowing hard “It doesn’t matter Jay” 

“Ok now open your eyes and tell me that” he ordered and you managed to open your eyes and stare into his and this time you phrased it “I don’t matter Jay” and he shook his head “Don’t you dare say that Jinx” you shrugged “Can I go please?” he shook his head “No” you stared him down “I’m just a stand in Jay. Even on the task force, I was a stand in for Rollins to finish her pregnancy” 

_____________________

You weren’t sure what happened next or how but when his lips crashed against yours, every other thought was chased out of your head. His hands slid down your side then back up, bringing your shirt off with them. You lifted your arms to let him pull it over your head, breaking from his lips just long enough to toss the shirt. 

He stared at you once you were down to your bra then leaned down to grab behind your thighs “Come here” he muttered picking you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He groaned when you ground your hips down against his. “I need you Jay” you breathed and he grinned “You got me” he carried you to his bedroom and laid you on the edge of the bed before pulling his shirt over his head. 

You watched him strip his shirt off then pulled him back down to you, eyes rolling back slightly when he moved from your lips across your jaw then down your neck. Your hands fumbled for his belt as his went for the buckle of your jeans. What was once a synchronised dance the two of you could do without a thought was now struggle.  You laughed against his lips when you finally got his zipper down and he helped you to get your jeans tugged down your hips.

His hand dipped between your thighs and a shaking gasp left him “There’s no fucking way you’re that wet from me kissing you” you moaned when his fingers teased at your slit “Try me and find out” you replied and he grinned “There’s my girl” you pushed at his jeans and he took the hint, pushing them off his hips. 

His body weight on top of you was so achingly familiar as he kissed you. You knew you should stop this, you knew it but good fucking god. You missed him. You felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance and slipped a hand between you to line him up. You didn’t want emotion, you didn’t want anything but him to make you feel good. You needed it.

He pushed into you and pressed his forehead over onto your collarbone, breathing heavily “Fuck baby” you closed your eyes against every emotion besides pleasure that was trying to nip at you. He gave a slow roll of his hips and your head fell back against the pillows. This was too much, too close, too intimate. You pushed at his chest and he raised an eyebrow but pulled back regardless of course “I’m sorry” you shook your head “Different position” he nodded and grabbed a pillow before helping you turn over, tucking it under your hips. When he slid in you cried out from how it felt when he stretched you around him, your hands balling into his comforter “Jinx?” he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to your tattoo “Fuck me Jay” you whispered and he chuckled “Ok then”

His hips rolled into yours, one hand pressing your shoulders down into the mattresses as you moaned out his name. “Did you miss me” he asked, cockily and you nodded “So much Jay” what were you doing? He snapped his hips into yours and your head fell over onto the mattress. 

He found a pace that had you unable to do anything but lay there and take it. “Fuck Fuck fuck” you gasped, him pushing you closer and closer to that edge. He folded himself over you, one hand on your waist and the other around your neck to pull you up off the bed as he brought your body back to meet every snap of his hips. You felt your orgasm slam into you as you shook and sobbed in his grasp. 

“Can I still cum inside” he asked and you nodded “Please Jay, let me feel you please” his hips snapped into yours, twice more before he pulled your hips back against his tight enough you grunted from the force, imagining you’d probably have bruises from his fingertips but didn’t care as you felt him cum, it spurting deep inside of you as your walls clamped down onto him. He stilled, pulling you up to where your back was flush against his chest, his lips trailing down your neck “I missed you honey, god I missed you” he breathed as he kissed your skin.

Jay was asleep, turned on his side. You laid staring at his back for too long. You wanted to believe him but the photo on the wall told you everything you needed to know. The old unit. The one before you stared back at you. You slowly slid out of his bed, gathering your clothes as you went. How could you have let this happen? Dammit you’d fallen right back into this. You were so damn weak when it came to Jay.

You quickly got dressed then looked back to make sure he was still asleep before heading for the door. You could not possibly risk falling asleep here. Nope.

Jay woke up and turned over to pull you into him and found an empty bed. He felt his heart drop. He reached for his phone and sent you a text Please tell me you’re at least still in Chicago then laid the phone down and groaned. He thought last night meant something. He thought he was getting you back. “FUCK” he threw the pillow against the wall, not caring that it knocked a picture down. 

He wanted his girl back, not just to get his dick wet. He dragged his hands down his face as a text came through and he checked it That was a mistake. It can’t happen again Why. why was it a mistake??

That’s what he wanted to ask. Why couldn’t he have you back? What did he do to begin with? Why couldn’t you just talk to him? How do we handle work?  He texted and you replied act like you did before we ever dated. Just pretend you’ve never touched me like that 

@desimarie12

He scoffed “Easier said than done there Jinx” he muttered to the empty room. Looking at you like he’d never wanted you? Might as well tell him to not breathe. Hell it would probably be easier to forgo breathing than you. Honey, I’m not a begging man yet I’m begging you yet again to talk to me he waited to see the bubbles pop up that meant you were replying but they never came. He sighed and tossed the phone. He had to get ready for work. He had to be shoulder to shoulder with you like his heart wasn’t aching for you. If only he knew what he did, he could fix it.

Last Time

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

[mawofthemagnetar]

No Mister Slab, I Expect You(r Keyboard) To Die!

Inspired by THIS tumblr post!

Etho woke up staring at his lap.

He blinked a few times, and lifted his head. Something was bound tight around his wrists, and the chair he’d been tied to was kind of painful.

He blinked, uncomprehending, as he stared into the massive eyes and smug smile of Keralis.

Etho opened his mouth.

And closed it.

Keralis was sitting in a high-backed spiky-looking chair, like something out of a movie. And of course, he was wearing a white suit with a blue flower for a corsage. For some reason, Jellie was sprawled contentedly across his lap. As if that wasn’t enough, behind him, a wall of lava was flowing down. Etho looked around the rest of the (modern and tasteful, natch) room, to see it dominated by suits of armour and other lovely decorations.  

Keralis’ massive desk sat between them, with a shiny new gaming PC and all the trimmings off to the side. Keralis gently stroked Jellie, and locked eyes with Etho.

“Ah, Etho! You’re awake!” he said brightly, and his left eye twitched.

“…Keralis? You okay, buddy? Something wrong?”

Etho would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous.

“Hm? No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m very, very fine.” Keralis leaned in, grinning nastily.

“So…uh…why am I tied to a chair?” Etho asked, tilting his head, “’Cause, like, I was kind of sending some e-mails to Pause when Doc dropped that bag over my head, and-“

Keralis’ eye twitched.

“I suppose we don’t waste time, then. Etho!” Keralis said grandly, steepling his fingers together on the desk, “I am replacing your entire setup.”

Etho froze.

“NO-!“

“OH, YES!” Keralis cackled, “YES, ETHO, YES! A NEW KEYBOARD! A NEW MOUSE! NEW MONITORS! A NEW MIC STAND!”

“…Actually, can I keep my old monitor, I only had, like, the one-“

Keralis’ eye twitched.

“You get two monitors now,” he said grandly, scratching Jellie behind the ears. She hissed and hopped off Keralis’ lap, wandering away.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Etho shouted, “I- man, I have like, emotional attachment to-“

Keralis twitched again.

He pressed a button on his desk.

A massive flying machine flew up at the top of the lava wall, Etho momentarily spellbound by the build that had Doc’s thumbprints all over it. And speaking of Doc, the man himself was standing at the top of the lava wall on a catwalk, wearing a black suit and an evil smile.

The flames danced in his eye as he placed down a shulkerbox containing…something.

“What…what are you going to do?” Etho asked nervously, “What do you want from me?”

“You? Nothing!” Keralis laughed, “your setup, though, sweetface…”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MY SETUP!”

“DOC!” Keralis called, snapping his fingers, “BURN IT!”

And Doc threw the shulker into the lava.

Etho gasped as it broke, as his broken keyboard, his sticky mouse, and his monitor with a flickery line going through the middle of it all fell into the flames. His tissue box, though-

Etho shed a tear as the empty Kleenex box hit the lava and instantly burst into flames.

“You’re a monster!” he sniffled.

Both Keralis and Doc burst out laughing. Grand, evil cackles, that eventually petered out.

“Why? Why would you do this to me!?” Etho protested.

Keralis scowled, clicked a few things on his own terminal, and spun the monitor around to see.

“THIS IS WHY.” He shouted.

Etho’s eyes fell on an email he’d sent out to all of the Hermits the previous week.

“I fail to see how that’s a problem. Or worthy of being on your Bond Villain arc.” Etho huffed.

“ETHO. THERE ARE NO SPACES BETWEEN ANY OF THE WORDS!” Keralis shouted.  

[drsbutmakeitspicy]

A bit in the future of the Single Dad!Carlos CarCar au:

Carlos was on a video call with other members of the team on a Friday afternoon of a rather cold day, a boring meeting that could have been an email, a meeting that he didn't even need to be part of. He could be relaxing analyzing some data he has been given early this morning while sitting on the bean bag by the baby mattress on the floor, where Catalina slept. Or he could be home by now, making dinner and washing clothes as she slept. His thoughts get interrupted by a knock at his door, before he can say anything Lando makes his way inside with Oscar right behind.

During non-race weeks the drivers had meetings with race engineer and strategists, sim work and marketing duties. 

“I'M DONE WITH TODAY, WHERE IS SHE?” Lando announced as he goes in, Carlos was glad he was muted.

”Lando! shh” Oscar says in a loud whisper, pointing to the toddler who now got her big brow eyes open and her faint eyebrows narrowed looking at Lando while still laying down. One of the many rules at the Sainz office was: Never wake up the baby, but if you do, you deal with her wrath.

She makes small whimpering noises as the first tears leave her eyes. “Oh baby girl, I'm so sorry.” he tells her in a sweet voice, crouching down with Oscar by his side watching the Brit try his best. Carlos keeps his eyes both on the call and the boys, watching the disaster he knows is about to happen.

As Lando picks her up she lets out a wail and cries loudly.  “No no no baby, Uncle Lando didn't mean to scare you!”

She is shoving his chest looking around searching for her father, still a bit confused from sleep. It was the worst choice Lando could make, he forgot that in situations like this Carlos lay down by her side and caress her hair until she falls asleep again.

He is also starting to panic as swaying her is not helping. Oscar sigh “Lina, baby.” He puts both hands in front of her, grabbing her attention. 

A gesture that she learned by the time she was 7 months old, he is asking if she wants him to hold her.

“Hey, it's not fair! She always wants you” and sure enough she extends her arms, small hiccups still leaving her mouth as she babbles nonsense for him. 

“You're okay baby, see? Uncle Lando didn't mean to scare you.” She is grabbing his shirt as he cuddles her close, swaying slightly.

Oscar makes eye contact with Carlos, who is up from his seat, ready to do something about the whole scene and watches his daughter rub her face on Oscar's hoodie - there's a chance she will fall asleep again, good. - he thinks as he sits down.

“In the kitchen fridge, inside the pink bag.” is all he says to the Aussie who already knows what to do. “Lan, let's give her a bottle and see if she will go back to sleep, maybe she will forgive you after.”

Lando just scoff with a disgusted expression “She absolutely love me Mr. Piastri! If you give me her right now you will see Uncle Lando is the best, aren't I, Catalina?”

“She will cry again, Lando. Just go to the kitchen while I deal with this meeting.” Carlos hands Lando a baby blanket and shoos them away, mouthing a ‘thanks’ to Oscar.

Before closing the door they can hear Carlos apologizing and asking someone to repeat the question. As it closes with a click they turn right on the corridor.

Lando has the baby blanket around his neck, walking a bit behind Oscar, faking that it's a fancy scarf, throwing it back and making silly faces which has earned him some giggles from the little girl that is laying her head on Oscar's shoulder.

“You cannot tell me she loves you more because you have sisters, mate.”

Oscar turns his face to look back at Lando, confused.

“Well, good. Cause I never told you that. I said I know what to do because I have 3 sisters and helped my mother with them growing up.” 

The small kitchen is not far from Carlos office as he is one of the few people that uses it.

“Then why is she so attached to you?”

Lando puts the tiny blanket on Oscar's shoulder as he goes to open the fridge, grabbing the pink bag and setting it on the table.

Oscar uses the corner of the blanket to wipe her tears. “I don't know.” She giggles when he nuzzles his nose on her hair, tiny hands grabbing the yellow blanket.“She just chose me, mate.” The beeping of the microwave grabs Lando’s attention. “See if it's the right temperature, I'll try to set her on the high chair.” Before Oscar can turn around-

“No high chairs.” He is surprised to see Carlos walk in. “Maybe if she agrees Lando can hold her as she drinks, no?” 

“Why no high chairs?”

“I'll explain later.”

Carlos ask Lando to pass the bottle checks it's temperature, he points for Lando to sit down on the big bean bag on the corner and turns to Catalina in Oscar's arms.

“C'mon princesa, you're probably hungry.” she goes with him easily babbling ‘papapapapa’.

“Be good Cariño” he tells her as he hands her to Lando who is distracting her with the warm bottle, pretending it's a plane.

The Brit sticks his tongue out in Oscar’s direction as if saying I won as she accepted the bottle from him. Drinking happily while looking around, trying to grab Lando's curls.

Carlos steps back to where the Aussie is, his fingers touching Oscar's in a light caress barely noticeable to others, repeating the motion enough times to make it known as not an accident. They stand there watching how Lina smiles with her eyes as Lando baby talks to her.

Oscar feels bad lying to Lando, but he also knows the Brit is horrible at keeping secrets, he doesn't know how Catalina is still a secret for the media.

He knows why Lina is attached to him, he just couldn't mention how many nights he spent at the Spanish man's house reading her stories, helping her with her dinner. He couldn't mention how he was there for them when she got the scary high fever Carlos always talks about. He couldn't tell Lando that he ended up falling for the man and god forbid he finds out they kissed for the first time last night. 

“You're drinking too fast Miss Lina, this is almost empty. Can she have another one ?” he looks at Carlos who takes a step creating a gap between him and the blushing Aussie.

“Only one is fine, try to burp her Lando, you remember how, no?”

“Pff, yea” As Lando gets in his own world talking to the toddler and patting her back Oscar takes his place back close to Carlos and laces their fingers, squeezing it twice.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 7

You just have to trust him one last time.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst, minor injury, emotional kook, some lore [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Back home, he’s pacing.

He’s broken a plate in the sink while doing the dishes, cut his hand a little because of it, and he doesn’t know where you’ve put the first aid kit. And he also doesn’t want to text you and ask you because if he’s annoying you then he’s only gonna make it worse for himself to get on your good side again, and you’ll also scold him for being clumsy again.

So he just puts a random bandaid on his hand, and moves to vacuum the floors.

His plan is to have all the chores done by the time you get home, so that your mood will be good and he can work on falling into your favor again. He hopes that you’ll just stay over at your friend's for one night, that you’ll text him soon to ask him to pick you up- so that he can show you that the time of torture is over now, all of his work sent out and work email and phone now on vacation mode. He’s all yours again-

And he’s just waiting for you to be his again as well.

You’ve not really talked to him besides a morning game of battleships while he was eating bland cereal (because the milk tasted weird and he didn’t know if it was bad or not- and you weren’t there to ask), and that’s fine. Well it’s not really fine, but he accepts it as maybe your way to get back at him. And it’s a relatively small price to pay, considering the shit he’s pulled you through- just as long as you return to him.

He’s tripping over the cable of the old vacuum and almost falls face first onto the floor, just to catch himself on the edge of a table, causing the cable to tighten and pull the plug out of the socket. And in an odd way, the sudden silence makes him feel like he’s drowning. Usually, especially on a day like this, you’d both be running around the house to see who can get their shoes on first just to not be the one who’s gonna pay for the food you’re about to get. Or you’d both be still tangled in the sheets in bed, still drowsy from sleep and the exhaustion from your usual indulgence in love prior to falling asleep. Or you’d have some music on while folding laundry, jumping around in nothing but panties and another stolen shirt of his.

But you’re not here. What if that’s how it’s going to be from now on? Forever?

He’s biting his lip to prevent himself from becoming emotional again as he sits down in his office, opening the drawer underneath. Your present is still in there, safely tucked away in a fancy little box, and he just hopes that you can understand why he went through this with you the way he did. Growing up, he’s always been fed with this obsession of success, that if he’s not the one doing the sole work himself, then he’s not allowed to call his success his own. With a father in a law firm, a brother running a multi-million worth business, and a mother that owns several restaurants, he’s basically always been the black sheep.

Tattooed, pierced, designing his stupid games all day, and with no very impressive wealth to show for himself, he doesn’t have the best relationship with his family, if any at all. So he just became a husk, and accepted any form of love he could get- fucking around until he met you-

Someone who didn’t care. Someone who liked him just the way he was, with all his flaws and odd habits and frustrating traits. You challenge him, you’re not treating him like a stupid failure, you make sure he knows his worth despite the big gap between him and his brother for example. And maybe that’s what made him so attached to you over the course of time- he just can’t imagine a life without you anymore, because especially now, he notices how much he needs you.

And it’s not about the chores, or about the fact that you constantly save him from food poisoning- it’s your presence.

“Urgh!” He yells out, hands on his face as he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“What’re you yelling for?” Your voice rings out, and he immediately slams the drawer shut, movement of his body stiffening up so quit that he crashes his knee into the underside of the desk, shaking everything on it, as he hisses but gets up anyways, limping towards you to pull you close. “Kook-“ you mumble muffled against his shoulder, but he just sways you around from left to right, head buried in the crook of your neck.

“Welcome home-“ he rambles, moving to kiss your cheeks before he freezes, wide eyed. “-fuck I should’ve asked if I could kiss you right? Shit babe I’m sorry-“ he rants, and you roll your eyes, running your hand through his slightly greasy hair.

“Its fine. Why’s the vacuum thrown around like a murder victim though?” You ask, detaching yourself from him as you move to pick it up and roll up the cord of it.

“I..wanted to do the chores before you came home. Which by the way-“ he says, following you around like a lost puppy. “-why didn’t you ask me to pick you up? It’s cold outside..” he whines, and you shrug.

“Gave me some time to think.” You say, and at that, he tenses up. “Jungkook.. I..” you sigh, before you turn around to face him. “I still don’t know why you’ve been like this and it really hurt me-“

“I can tell you now!” He rushes out. “Like, not all of it but most of it- enough of it, I promise!” He presses.

“I don’t want you to make up shit. If you don’t like me like that anymore-“ you begin, but he shakes his head, frantically pulls you closer to hug you.

“Don’t ever think like that. I love you, I really do..” he mumbles against the top of your head. “And I’ll prove it to you, promise.” He urges.

“How?” You meekly ask, unable to resist snaking your arms around his torso as well.

“Just trust me one last time.” He whispers, and it sends a chill down your spine just how serious he sounds.

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

[tvlandofficiall]

As one of the Tenna CEOs on Tumblr.com I thought it'd be fitting to share here how funny I find his character subversion. I remember when his cute border design leaked and people on Twitter were like "noo guys don't fall for the facade!! remember what spamton said about not trusting anything you see on tv!!" and eveyone was fully convinced of him being a mafia boss or irredeemable scum (as if Toby has ever written a pure evil character)

Then it turned out he is the nicest antagonist so far who IS masking stuff to the public as a TV host, but what he's masking isn't some evil intentions, just self-worth issues 😭

Can't believe he embodiment of malicious spam email is not a reliable source of information about his ex partner! What a surprise!

oh i've been on team sympathetic tenna from way back – though that's never to diss anyone else's interpretations, of course. (i've a soft spot for a few cutthroat tennas myself!) but one of the big concepts that i was working with when writing tvlandofficial tenna was 1. as you said, that spamton is an unreliable narrator, and 2. that it was inevitable that tenna would be based on one of kris' family members, likely toriel (though i was slightly off on guessing toriel specifically). tvlandofficial tenna was a big, tough mafia boss, with a dog-eat-dog world view on life, but she also grew to become fiercely protective of ralsei, and her initial outlook on life stemmed not from being malicious for malice's sake but from the very same thing we see canon tenna's issues stem from – that all darkners will be abandoned one day, being objects and all. and while she did end up unplugged, she still had people she could lean on, becoming truly attached to her guy's and, of course, to ralsei.

when it comes to the darkners as a whole, they're all defined by that struggle against fate – against what it means to be an object. (this led to another part of the mixed feelings i had – i wish we saw more of this with the old man – but i digress, and again, i can see what the aim was.) even characters like spades king and spamton have sympathetic qualities in how the cycle of being used and tossed away defines them. and as we know now, canon tenna's defined by it too – someone who knows his kind aren't built to last and wants to last forever. (he's honestly a lot like queen, too, in the way he relates to kris like she does to noelle – wanting badly to make them smile but being out of touch with how to do so. there's some dreemurr and holiday food for thought.) it breaks your heart a little when you see well-meaning susie, who similarly measures her worth by her own fate as a hero of the prophecy, offer to let mettaton have him. he wants someone to look at him and say they want him around, and although he's still ultimately the sort of person who'll trap you in an endless round of miserable minigames to get that to happen, he's got this sense of naïveté about him that matches with his kids'-show-mascot personality. but both susie and tenna are worth more than what they can give to a prophecy or to a god, and i'm sure that someday, they'll figure that out.

as an aside, though, i'm really enjoying spamton's scummy side getting some more time in the spotlight after these chapters dropped. it's a huge factor in the way i write him both when it comes to my die-hard swatch/spamton enjoyment and in general. i feel as though a part of the reason it fell off the map is that fans began to fear swatch's acerbic side meant they one-sidedly treated spamton like garbage, but i don't think that's true at all. they're garbage4garbage. i could write a whole essay dissecting spamton's garbageness because it's so compelling to me. he's character.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

[calliecwrites]

Download

Posted anonymously, 12th of February.

You know that feeling, when you meet someone interesting, and you want to know more? You know there’s more behind what they’re saying – so much knowledge, so much insight? When you can’t get enough, and wish you could connect to their brain and download everything, all at once?

You do know that feeling, right? I’m not the only one who gets that?

I met a girl online, let’s call her Amy. We were into the same things, and hung around on the same servers. I got that feeling. We were on the same wavelength. We sat up all night talking, for months. That was still too slow. The feeling got stronger.

Then, 5th of January: I dreamed that we were both robots. She had a port in her head. I had a cable attached to mine. I connected the cable and started the download.

She wasn’t online the next day or the day after. That was the longest we hadn’t spoken in months. I messaged her every day, but she didn’t reply. A month later, I still hadn’t heard from her.

But every night I dreamed about her. In the dreams, she had moved into town. We had the conversations we would have had online. The dream version of her felt just as real as the real version I was pining for. I knew I was dreaming – unusual for me – but didn’t mention it.

During the day, I found myself thinking about her, and… knowing things. I knew her sister’s address and her mum’s birthday. I remembered her first day at school. She hadn’t told me any of this. I was convinced my mind was making it up, inventing details to use in the dreams.

Sometimes, in the dreams, she said she missed her old town. But, 2nd of February: she sighed in relief and said she was finally free from that. This was her home now.

Three days later, I got a message from her mum. She had gone into Amy’s phone, seen my name and our messages, realised I was someone important to Amy – and now she was breaking the news to me. On the 5th of January, Amy had gone into a coma. On the 2nd of February, her condition had worsened suddenly, and they had switched off the life support. Amy was dead.

I was devastated. I couldn’t tell her that just last night, Amy had told me how glad she was she’d moved to where I lived.

You could say this is when I first broke with reality. But I know better.

My mind went back to the first dream. The download was supposed to be ‘copy’, not ‘move’. Who ever heard of ‘download’ being a destructive operation? That was the fantasy, not this.

You can see how I was already thinking.

I confirmed it when I logged into Amy’s email with the password I knew – that she would never have told anyone – and the password was correct.

The robots were metaphors, but somehow the act was real. I’ve stolen my best friend’s mind, and she doesn’t even realise.

The dream version is the real version now, I’m sure of that. She’s a whole other person inside of me. I can choose when to run her. When she isn’t running, every part of her is accessible to me – all her knowledge, all her memories, all her experience. Just as I wished. I could imitate her words or actions perfectly. And when she’s running, she has no idea that everything there is fake. She has no idea that she’s dead.

How do I tell her? Should I tell her? Should I run her at all?

Probably you don’t believe me. You haven’t seen the proof, after all. Maybe you think I’m making it up to cover something more mundane. Well, humour me. Pretend. I ran away from my home, my life. I’m hiding now. I can’t talk to anyone I know, not about this. I don’t know if I’m safe to be around, or safe to be online. What if I meet someone else, and it happens again? What if I decide I like it, and make it happen again?

I don’t know what to do.

What should I do?

Please help me.

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added):

@ask-de-writer @avery-victoria-winterlight @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie @lunadook

@mint-and-authoress @reliableslimegal @sandyca5tle @scrubbinn @theriomythic-lesbian

@void-botanist @wuwojiti @zzzestyy

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Four

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: IT'S TAKEN A WHILE BUT IT'S HAPPENING, MATTY AND MOUSE ARE SO CLOSE. Hi:) Hope you enjoy this part, finally throwing them into the same building!! Lot's happening in this one!

Warnings: Mentions of rehab, struggles around body image

Masterlist

🐭 @/petitesouris 13m Early start, hoping it's a good session today!

The next week rolled around slowly and it had been one of the most agonising waits of my life. 

I’d constantly been emailing with the Primary Talent Team for the last few days, back and forth, just trying to work out which date and time would best fit both our schedules. It’d been gruelling. And the entire exchange would have gone a whole lot easier if it hadn't been for the fact that it had all been centred around them and based on their terms and conditions. Not forgetting the mile long list of Do’s and Don'ts they had also attached to their most recent email, which had been oh so fucking thrilling.

To be honest, I might not have minded it if my whole life had only revolved around the radio show. But as proud of it as I was, and as incredibly hard as both Adi and I constantly worked, I had other priorities that took precedence. I loved the show with all my heart but it could never be my entire life. Not with Teddy waiting for me back home at the end of each day, relying on me alone to raise and feed and clothe him.

Not that Healy’s management could comprehend that, or the fact that I had a schedule and a set routine. They didn't know when to stop and pushed and pushed to get what they wanted. And I could only fight back so much. Which meant that I’d ended up dropping Teddy off at Finn’s place a whole two hours earlier than usual just so that Adi and I could prep for the dated interview.

So, with that in mind, it was safe to say that I wasn't in the perkiest of moods when Adi bounded breathlessly into the studio that morning, a lot later than expected.

"I know, I know, I'm late!" Adi immediately squawked as she hurried on over, the door behind her slamming shut in her wake. "But I have good reason! I hardly slept last night, too excited for all of this!" She added as she threw her knitted tote bag down in its customary corner, the one I’d brought her the birthday last, and tossed her phone and throng of keys down with a clatter onto her paper-filled desk.

I rolled my eyes, but was unable to negotiate with the amused smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Still had time to post a quick photo though. Don't think I didn't see it, Adeline- you tagged the show."

Adi’s smile was blinding when she spun around to meet me, brown eyes wild and full of mirth.

“Figured since you still haven't a clue about how Instagram works that you just wouldn't see it, my love!" She retorted whilst throwing herself down into my desk chair and kicking her Doc clad feet up onto the table. She shot me a smug smirk. 

“Cow. And oi, I’ll have you know I’ve caught on since Circa ‘18!” I defended, but relented upon seeing Adi’s arched brow. “Fine, I had Finn explain it all to me one night after a bottle of wine. But the point still stands.”

Adi’s raucous laughter bounced around the loft and I could only roll my eyes once more before huffing. 2018 had been a rough year for many, but mostly me, seeing as I’d accidentally posted a quick shot of me in the tub for the group chat to my story, exposing a little more than I’d like to our show’s following.

Adi stared back at me in disbelief, loosening the bun of unruly curls that had been strung together by a silk bandana, which also seemed to match the colour of the very short shorts she was wearing.

"He'd had to have been a saint in another life to have dealt with an indisposed you for that long."

I scoffed at that, but couldn't help my own trickle of laughter. “I sent Teddy round to his the next day with a box of chocolates- you know, those fancy ones he’s always banging on about?” Adi hummed her assent. “Felt proper bad about it all. Took him ages to teach me how to stop going Live.”

We both laughed.

“Waste of time that was, should’ve just brought the chocolates here! Knowing Finn, he only helped ‘cause he found the entire sodding thing hilarious.” Adi supplied, pulling a pack of chewing gum free from her jacket pocket.

Snorting faintly, I denied her offering of a piece with a wave of my hand, and went back to fidgeting with my phone, distracting myself again from my plume of thoughts. I spun the device round and round, slowly enough so that each edge made contact with the wooden desktop. 

“You alright there, babe?” Adi queried after a while, and I glanced over to see her eyes now trailing the movement. “Ted doing alright?” 

I stilled and then hummed, watching as she turned and went about fumbling her way through an array of wires that sat on my desk, most of which were already hooked up to the monitors. It was a task Adi did most mornings, even when I’d already ticked it off the list, ever the perfectionist, wanting to double check that nothing would go wrong with the day's show.

“Oh yeah, all’s fine. Teds is already obsessing over Halloween, ranting about what costume he wants to get this year. But August has only just passed, Ads.” I groaned, thinking back to the previous evening when Teddy had spent a good portion of his bath time rambling on about what every other kid in his class was going to be.

Adi peered back at me, the extremity of the grin she wore wrinkling the corners of her eyes. “Just kids, ain't it? We were the same, you'll miss it in a couple of years.”

I supposed she was right, but only because I didn’t have much of an experience to look back on. Halloween had just been me and mum in the woods up by the creek, collecting flowers and eucalyptus for the wreaths we’d make, then reading old stories by the fire.

“Don't remind me, please. I don't want him getting any bigger!” I sighed all too dramatically before standing to head on over towards the printer, picking up everything I’d sent off earlier from out the tray.

“It's the way of life, babe. So, when do you reckon Teds will end up towering over you?”

Adi simply chuckled when I stuck a finger up at her from over my shoulder, not even wanting to pay that idea any thought at all. Teddy was my baby, I couldn’t picture him all grown up.

“I should mention that I saw your tweet, by the way. Guessing you're nervous for today?” Adi added after, her tone a little softer than normal, catching me off guard enough that I actually stilled in place before I turned to face her.

“And you’re not?"

Adi’s mouth quirked upwards when she shook her head, dark ringlets moving with it.

“Why would I be? This is fucking huge for us, M! The exposure that we'll receive alone could really give us the big break we've been searching for- I honestly can't even begin to believe it.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I lingered over her words, then pushed back the thought of me having been the one to deal with the stress that was Healy’s management team to the back of my mind. Adi didn’t deserve that, I’d always been the one to deal with all the crap happening behind the scenes, and besides, Adi had a right to be excited. I only wished that I had the ability to join in on it.

“I just don't want to start up any more unnecessary drama, Ads.”

Drama was the very last thing I wanted, knowing that this whole thing with Healy could easily blow up in our faces if we didn’t go about it the right way. And if shit actually does end up hitting the metaphorical fan, then… I wasn't sure I'd be fit enough to handle it. Handle the backlash that would surely follow and affect the show, the only source of income I had. And without it, both Teddy and I would be royally fucked.

Apparently my lack of response had Adi rolling her eyes, adding an extra flare of dramatics to it by flicking my ear as she passed me by. “Don’t be such a worrier, babe. It’ll all work out, always does with us, don’t it? Besides, how can it not when I have a face as gorgeous as this?”

She winked, flashing me her famous grin.

“Tart.”

“Slag.” Adi easily countered.

A breathy chuckle escaped me and I shook my head before returning to the wad of papers I’d been rifling through. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s the radio, babe. No one will be seeing that gorgeous face of yours, or the way your arse is currently hanging out of those shorts.”

Adi cut her eyes at me from across the room, but they gleamed under the studio’s lights. “Don’t be jealous. We both know you love it.”

“Jealous? I’m a mum!”

“A fit one.”

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat at that and I couldn't find the energy to deny it, so I just shook my head.

“Anyway, you’re wrong.” And at my confused look, Adi continued on, grinning wickedly as she waved around one of the large devices she’d since picked up and cradled in her hand. “We are working with the camera’s today. Sort of why I'm here setting them all up. See?”

“Wait, we’re filming?” I gawked, and my eyes felt like they were just about ready to bulge out of my head as I sat up further to shake my head at her. Mouth already dry. “Non. No, Adi. No one ever mentioned that! I can’t.”

“They called yesterday demanding it. Just as you left to pick up Teds- it must've slipped my mind. I'm so sorry, hun.” Adi revealed sheepishly, her face scrunched up in an apologetic wince as the camera rig dropped to her hip. “But don't worry, yeah? I promise it'll all be sound and then we'll be well on our way to becoming the UK's biggest radio show!”

I reverted back to worrying at my bottom lip, chewing on it as though I hadn't eaten for days whilst I tapped an anxious rhythm into the arm of my chair. I couldn’t do the cameras, not today at least.

“Trust me, Mouse. It’ll be alright. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. No one will say a thing.”

I wished I could fucking believe her.

***

The Sun @/Thesun 16m Matty Healy spotted out in London today! The singer has been relatively quiet for the past few days- somewhat strange for the wayward frontman- but will this all change now that he's been seen? (Link) H @/user1 18m um, what? he’s where?? Adi @/AdelineWells_ 19m Long day ahead but we're very excited for today's show! Big surprises in store for you lot, so who's looking forward to it?? @/petitesouris @/Mouseonamic Indie @/user2 21m @/AdelineWells_ AHHH hope it's another Adi's All-Knowing segment!! Urmymedicine @/user3 23m Did anyone else see Jamie’s ig post?? He says to keep an eye out- AN EYE OUT FOR WHAT?? Talk! @/user4 11m I feel like I've been hit by an unnecessary amount of information

***

Matty’s bleary stare made an attempt to focus on the blurring buildings that passed them by as the car cut through the paved streets of London. Grey just melting into another varied shade of grey.

It was still far too bright for the beginning of September, the remaining weeks of summer only just tittering away now, and Matty couldn't help the scowl that had long since settled into his hollow features. 

One of the very few things he liked about the city was the fact that it was almost sure to be gloomy during the colder months. But it seemed as though the sun was shining a little brighter today, much to his chagrin.

A dull pain throbbed at either side of his temples, it’d been there since he’d been forced awake, and so he'd had to wind the window all the way down as soon as they'd set off to keep the nausea at bay. He silently regretted not turning in early last night, but it couldn't have been helped. It was hard to stay asleep without his usual nightcap, and even then, it was harder to dismiss the memories that plagued his mind without downing half a bottle of something or other.

A frigid wash of air wound its way down his throat as he took a long breath, his mind slowing a tad as the afternoon breeze trickled across his skin. But soon enough Matty’s calm was broken and his attention was then caught by Jamie, who sounded just as thwart as he felt.

“You even listening to me, mate?”

Jamie’s undeterred voice filtered through the back of the car, a short lived sigh following in its wake.

Matty merely rolled his eyes from behind his darkened sunglasses and proceeded to slump further in his seat, lolling his head to the side so that his focus was now within the car instead of on the distractions of the outside world.

His gaze trailed its way across the dark leather seats and blacked out windows before it finally ended up landing on his manager, who was kitted up in one of his many sharp shirts and a pair of formal fitting trousers. A right snazzy twat.

Matty could appreciate their pattern though, Jamie hardly ever ventured too far into the world of fashion, so the burgundy tartan was a sight to behold.

He soon fixed Jamie with an apathetic stare from across the backseat, fingers already itching for a fag, or maybe something stronger. He couldn’t be arsed with the mindless bother he’d been sent to complete today, really didn’t want to be dealing with a roomful of people that were there to assault him with an extensive range of hard-hitting questions, or have any more unwanted cameras shoved in his face in truth. 

But here he was, doing it.

Following orders because that was what it took to be a puppet. He was too tired to be tugging on any strings today though, simply wanted to get the afternoon over and done with, hopefully without any repercussions, so that he could fall back into bed.

“Matty, mate.” Jamie huffed, his face having fallen into a pitiful expression that Matty didn’t quite like looking at, but couldn’t seem to look away from. 

For a while, he'd been fearful that he'd pushed his luck all too far with Jamie, as well as the rest of the band too he supposed. But it seemed as though the guy had a thing for redemption, because he was trying his fucking hardest to annoy Matty into growing the fuck up.

“Look. I know you don't like this anymore than I do, but it's your job, mate. You ain’t got much of a choice here. But think of it this way, right. It's better you being here, doing this, than drowning away in your own fucking sorrows- thought you'd given up drinking since rehab, anyway.”

Matty’s jaw clenched involuntarily at the reminder. Rehab. What was it with everyone and always bringing it up? He’d been too fucking gone on painkillers to have given a second thought to the little amount of alcohol that particular shit show had provided. Could hardly call it a rehabilitation centre either, not when you were constantly surrounded by other abusers who were practically there on a getaway, just finding other means to entertain themselves with.

Jamie broke the silence just as Matty’s mind began to spiral, and Matty couldn’t help but be rather thankful for it.

“You just gonna sit there then?” Jamie snorted, obviously trying to fill the tense quiet now, “Normally you’d have told me to piss off by now.”

“Piss off.” Matty murmured, turning his focus back to the window.

The car seemed to be slowing down now and Matty furrowed his brow when they came to a gentle halt outside a block of buildings.

“Where are we?”

“Outskirts of Islington, I think. Not too far from the studio.”

Matty didn't get much of a chance to reply- not that he'd had one, Islington never did manage to bring up the most fondest of memories with him- because Jamie had all but jumped at the chance to exit the vehicle, opening up the sliding backdoor to escape into the stream of daylight.

With a tired sigh, Matty ran a hand through his mussed hair before he made a move to join his manager, clicking his neck slightly as the bottoms of his leather, heeled boots clacked against the cobbled pavement.

There was the usual musty scent that lingered throughout the city as he took a breath, but the smell of petrol was somewhat stronger here. Hardly anyone was wandering down the backstreet they had pulled into though, and those that did didn't linger too long on either him or the extravagant hired car that he'd been sanctioned with since having been struck with yet another driving ban.

Craning his head up, Matty could tell that there wasn't much to the building they were standing outside of. A commercial unit, three stories or so. Its brick exterior worn and dotted with timber sash windows. It was quaint enough, but not what he was used to when it came to things like this.

"Alright. A quick debrief before we go in." Jamie started, already fixing the faint creases in his otherwise pristine shirt, caused from where he’d been sat working in the backseat. “This is the same show that you had a bit of a spat with earlier this week, alright? So you'll be meeting the same girl that spoke out about your, um… Well, your image and publicity, and all that crap, generally speaking."

Jamie’s eyes flitted around them before he was back to typing away on his phone again. Fucking thing was practically attached to his hand, made Matty wonder how the hell he managed a wank.

But then he caught onto that last bit of his sentence and furrowed his brows, throwing Jamie another quick glance, not quite comprehending.

“Why we even here then? Thought your lot had a right mare dealing with all that.”

Jamie had the decency to look a tad bit sheepish as he started to lead them over towards one of the heavy-duty doors that adorned each of the surrounding units.

“They think that by doing this, it will clear up any allegations. They just want you to right your wrongs, I ‘spose. Make it known that what went down was just a 'misunderstanding' of sorts.”

“Right my? For fucks sake, Jamie! I was shitfaced! And if I remember fucking rightly, this supposed presenter spoke some actual truth. How the fuck am I meant to deny that and clear this whole fucking mess up?"

Matty was quite close to fuming now. It was always the same thing, again and again. The lies were never ending. So much so that he could hardly even recognise them from the truth anymore, everything had seemed to mould into one.

Jamie had since paused, his hand resting on the door's brass handle whilst he gave Matty the best smile he could possibly muster up. "Matty, mate, I'm sorry. Listen, I thought I could-"

Matty cut him off with a throaty scoff.

"Don't make out you're sorry. Not when you're just here ‘to do your job’. The only thing you're sorry for is the fact that you've got to be here at all, to suffer through all this shit with me and put up with the added drama. Just do me a fucking favour and keep your half-arsed apologies to yourself, mate."

Jamie looked genuinely taken back by his vicious rant for once, and somewhat hurt too, but Matty paid it no mind. He knew where to hit where it hurt, and he often didn’t stop until he tasted blood. The band knew that better than most.

"You act like you're here for me, when all you really care about is goin’ by the book and following the rules. Fucking grow a pair and apologise to me when there's an actual ounce of sympathy behind it." He spat back, teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, glowering at the man standing before him. 

Matty shoved past his startled manager before he could linger on his words and pushed his way through the door. Fisted hands already making their way into his pockets as his nails dug crescent shaped moons into his palms in a desperate attempt to take the edge off of his vibrating anger.

"Ah, good, you're already here then! Thought we'd heard voices!" A cheerful lilt called out just as Matty rounded the short hallway, Jamie hot on his tail, and came face to face with a girl, who was leaning heavily against the metal rail lining the steep stairwell. 

Matty winced at the brashness of her greeting, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses at the very force of her presence. She had a mane of thick curls bundled atop her head, lips lined red and lashes winged with a heavy liner. She was definitely younger than him, but not by much, and he could only guess as he approached her, that she stood at a similar height to him too when she wasn't prancing about on metal staircases. 

His fingertips trailed across the paperboard carton he had stowed away in his jacket pocket as Jamie hurried on over to meet the woman- a beaming smile now replacing his previously dejected look. Matty bit into his cheek at the sight of it.

"Yeah, sorry if we're late! Hey, it's great to meet you, I'm Jamie and this is obviously Matty." Jamie greeted with an incessant smile Matty couldn't bring himself to look at, before his manager was gesturing towards him- the disgruntled singer he was always stuck babysitting- and then reaching out a hand.

"Adeline, but my mates call me Adi." The girl, Adi, chirped as she took Jamie’s palm in her own, her eyes flitting towards Matty long enough to get a good once over. A gesture Matty returned. "It's great to have you both here."

She wore a grin so large it practically surpassed the honey brown eyes that brightened her face. Her teeth were white, if not a little crooked, and the force of her smile showed off the metal piercing that sat against her front teeth.

"We're honestly really excited to have you on the show! We'll have a proper laugh and just chill, so there's no pressure or anything. Mouse is upstairs, by the way. Still have to set up the final bits and bobs." Adi added, her enthusiasm somehow never faltering. "You'll love her! She's the main man round here, the one who started up the show and all that. You'll be speaking to her once we begin, but depending on how everything goes I'm hoping to join the two of you at some point."

Matty merely hummed in reply, which earned him a slight jab to the ribs from Jamie, one he tried not to lash out at. And Adi’s eyes slitted a tad as she followed the gesture, though Matty noted she gathered herself rather quickly.

"So, is that all of you then? No one else to meet?" Jamie wondered politely and Adi chuckled in retort as she began to lead them up the shifting staircase, giving them both an eyeful of her long legs.

"Nah, you're in the clear. It's just the two of us running things around here."

Matty worked his jaw at her response, whilst the sound of his boots hitting each metal stair reverberated around them.

"And that works?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

Adi's head snapped back to find him, eyes peering over her shoulder as she rounded the first small landing and started on the next set of stairs.

"Mouse was on her own for a long while before I came along. We cope fine on our own though. We might not be as big as some other radio shows at the moment, but we've got a good relationship that works well within this industry. She can be stubborn, whilst I can be pushy, and even when we butt heads over things, we're able to make up in the end for the sake of the show. I don't know how it would work, throwing someone else into the mix."

Matty gave her a curt nod.

"So, Mouse?" Jamie questioned just as they bypassed the second floor, continuing up the staircase. Matty could hear the curiosity that lined his voice.

Adi flashed them another grin. "Mouse. It's what she goes by."

"Oh?" Jamie prodded, prompting her even further. He had a right thing for nicknames, loved hearing the stories behind them or something. 

"Don't know how it came about, in all honesty. You'll have to ask. But it's been her pseudonym ever since she started as a kid."

Matty’s ears perked up upon hearing that, but it was Jamie who quizzed her.

"She's been doing this since she was a kid?"

"Technically. But no, it started out as a Twitter account, just her venting her thoughts and opinions on the music she loved. And trust me, teenage Mouse was just as cut throat and sarcastic as she is now- maybe even more so- but people loved it, still do. The idea for the radio show came about a couple years later, and that was that."

Adi stopped talking just as they reached the very top. The staircase had led them straight into an open plan room, where a large leather sofa separated the sitting area from the tiny kitchenette in the far back corner, and where half of the living space had been overtaken by a recording booth.

Matty blinked. It wasn't at all what he had been expecting.

"God, this is insane." Jamie suddenly crowed from beside him and Matty followed his manager’s wide eyed gaze to where a skylight had been fitted overhead, giving them a clear view of the bright blue skies they'd just escaped from.

"I know." Adi spoke through a breathy exhale, her eyes twinkling as she grinned up at the oversized window. "It was what sold us on the place, honestly. That, and the access we have to the roof."

She gestured over towards the closest window to the stairs then and Matty found a fire exit hatch sat just on the outside of it.

"Don't think the other tenants renting out the spaces below even know about it. Well that, or we've just been lucky enough to never to catch one another up there." She chuckled and Jamie joined her. 

Matty’s hand tightened around his pack of cigarettes, eyes lingering on the hatch. But before he could ask if he could get a quick look at it, Adi was waltzing her way across the room and over towards the kitchen. 

She waved them closer and gestured towards two sofas and a vintage looking armchair that should have looked somewhat out of place, if it hadn't been for the rest of the mismatched furniture that littered the space. From the mint green fridge shelving a chaotic range of mugs, to the wearing Victorian coffee table, which was hilariously similar to the one Matty’s grandmother had preened over whenever guests had gone to visit.

"Tea, coffee?" Adi asked and Matty dipped his head as he took a perch on the edge of an armchair facing the tele box. It looked well over two decades old and he questioned the last time he'd seen one that'd had a DVD player built into it.

"Coffee. Black."

Adi raised an amused brow but didn't comment, looking towards Jamie. "And you, Glasses?"

Jamie only chuckled at the name referring to the thick rimmed frames he often wore. "Tea, please. Milk, two sugars."

"Be with you in just a sec!" Adi winked in reply and pulled four mugs down from the fridge.

"Cheers." Jamie thanked her, smiling all the while, before a look of remembrance crossed his face. "So where's this famous Mouse of yours then?"

And as though someone had answered him, Matty looked up to find the door to the recording booth opening and watched as someone stepped out to join them.

[myimaginedcorner]

SCALES OF JUSTICE - BETA TESTERS NEEDED

Hi dear readers,

Thank you for your overwhelming trust and support. The opinions that I've collected over the past few days have finally motivated me to put aside my self-criticism and doubt, and to make the next step towards SoJ's release.

Yes, Scales of Justice is now officially in its BETA-test phase!!

If you would like to help me by being a BETA-tester for my book, please, comment under this post, send me a direct message, or message me on CoG's forum. I aim to take around 20 to 30 people, so we can have a big and productive group that nonetheless remains constructive in its feedback.

If you don't have the time or you don't want to be a tester, consider sharing this post, so it can get to as many of you as possible.

I will be working alongside the testers on improving style, grammar, and other minor details that require polishing as the month progresses. Hopefully, by the end of it we'll have an even better version of this book that will be submitted for approval to Hosted Games!

See you all very soon,

Julia xx

BOOK DETAILS:

DEMO DESCRIPTION:

Scales of Justice is a fantasy game situated in another world, far away from Earth. There are plenty of species living together in harmony, but the human race is currently split in two civilisations: the one known as Hero kingdom, which is ruled by ‘heroes’, and the one named Vannais kingdom, controled by ‘villains’. Both nations hate each other and the fight between ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ here is something that happens on a national level. The game is focused on lore, on character development and your own perception of reality: perhaps, your MC just wants to live a peaceful life... or maybe wants to save the world.

Or even rule it, if you’re into such things.

THINGS TO DO IN THIS DEMO:

Set off on a new adventure towards Neutral Lands, to meet a mythic creature of all answers - The Visionary.

Gather up to 3 companions to help you in your quest - befriend, romance or rival them, the choice is yours.

Buy a horse - we know you want one.

Fight, conjure, support, speak or think - choose your way of handling a tricky situation.

Explore the kingdom of Hero up to Menai's shore, in search for someone - or something - to aid you in your journey.

The DEMO version of the book runs up to Chapter 5 and contains 276K words overall. I will be putting up updated versions of the first chapters as I work my way through them, so expect the DEMO version to become a polished reflection of what the final book will look like!

USEFUL LINKS:

If you want to know a little more about this project and read chapters 1-5, I'll leave the link to the game here -> https://dashingdon.com/play/myimaginedcorner/scales-of-justice/mygame/

If you want to discuss anything on CoG's forum, I'll leave the link for SoJ here -> https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-scales-of-justice-new-project-announcement-and-demo-release/101088/16

If you want to send me a more extensive feedback, here's my email -> feedbackscalesofjustice@gmail.com

Any mistakes, concerns or questions you have, feel free to contact me through Tumblr! I am very excited to share this story with all of you, and I want to make it as good as possible with your help!

RO DESCRIPTIONS:

Shoren/Seile -> Heir to the Hero kingdom's throne, right where your journey starts. Also, your old friend who's very attached to you. Likes to read and practices magic, enjoys adventure and heroic deeds. A recognised “hero”, with blonde curly hair, pale skin and a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

Robert/Reina -> Order's Paladin, defender of Hero and Knight of Fate. Brave and honourable, determined to protect the people of the kingdom. Very loyal to friends and very dangerous as an enemy. Has short brown hair, tanned skin and an athletic build.

Valerius/Venis -> An Outworlder, who was caught by cultists from the Wicked Woods. Gracious, elegant and charismatic. Has long dark brown hair with a silver streak, olive skin and golden eyes.

Arion/Aria -> Leader of Vannais, a recognised “villain” who escaped from Hero and now rules the enemy kingdom. Serious, reserved but temperamental. Prefers action over words and so is always present on battlefields and amidst negotiations, even though never in official manner. Has short blonde hair, pale skin and emerald eyes.

Be careful! These characters have their thoughts and opinions on the world and your actions: if you want them to support you, convince them or take their side… or neither. That is your choice after all!

[themarsmaiden]

Accolade

Yuri x Gn!Reader

alternate universe

Summary: [Name] and Yuri have known each other since they were kids. Always competing, and now they prepare for their final year in high school. For their colleges of choice, the science fair, and in love.

Case Study 1: Isami Yuri

August, the start of a new school year.

They’ve never liked Isami Yuri. He was conceited, condescending, and most of all he was bitch. Yuri was a self centered, full grown, 17 year old bitch.

[Name] had known him since the first grade, and nothing about him has changed.

Take exhibit a: the first grade spelling bee

“[Name] spell extraordinary”

“E-x-t-r-a-o-r-d-i-n-a-r-y” they smile, proud of themselves, then hear a whisper from their right, “a baby could’ve spelt that.” A small boy stood there, smug and tall.

“Yuri, spell tenacious.”

“t-e-n-a-c-i-o-u-s” he smiled proudly.

This went back and forth for several more rounds until only those two stood. In the end Yuri was the one to win.

[Name] did not hold a grudge over this anymore, that would be childish. However they would hold a grudge over exhibit b: science fair, junior year.

“Second place?! Who won first??” They look down at their computer in bewilderment. How could they not have won this year? They had made a working liver!

Granted it only worked on pigs so far, but it worked it really did work!

They opened and scrolled through the excel spread of names attached to their ‘congratulations’ email.

Lying right above their name was written, “Yuri Sami: Frankenstein’s Monster”

They gawked silently, appalled. Did he really..?

“No. I did not reanimate dead. That would be stupid.”

The man in question appeared behind them, unpleasantly surprising them. “I did a year long study into the care and treatment of a boy named Jiro, successfully waking him from his coma.”

He bragged then left, leaving [Name] stunned alone in their school’s library.

[Name] could not forgive him for the embarrassment they felt after the librarian came to ask them what was wrong, and then after finding out what happened, insinuated that they might actually like him!

They are unsure how anyone could come to the conclusion. How could anyone enjoy his presence to begin with?

Yet here they find themself, studying him from afar.

First period, the first day of their senior year.

August 13th, a Tuesday.

He was alone in the back of the class, his nose stuck in a book that read “Care for the fragile” upon its cover. Class was soon about to start but he displayed no worry.

Soon after, students filled the seats around him. His demeanor did not change.

Only when the bell rang did he close the book and put his attention towards the class at hand.

English Literature

It was not a subject that either of them had paid particular mind to since elementary school, when they both decided to head down a doctoral path.

The rest of the day created a pattern in his behavior:

Get to class early, read, pay attention. (Of course the two did not share every class, so this observation could have its faults.)

The moment when this changed was eighth period Advanced Biology.

This was a freshman topic, however the advanced version of the course was only available to upperclassmen. This makes it a prime choice for two nerds interested in this exact subject.

Yuri gets to class early, the pattern continues, however contrary to his previous behaviors, he does not take out the text book. Instead, he waits attentively.

“With the way you’ve been staring all day someone might mistake your attention as affection.” Someone sits in front of [Name] blocking their view.

The person was none other than Rui Mizuki. “If I knew any better I’d be wishing for your gaze to be on me instead.”

He snapped them out of it, making them roll their eyes. “Can it, Rui.” He laughs at their reaction. “But no seriously, you’ve been staring at him all day.”

“It’s a case study Rui. I’m trying to get into the inner mind of one Isami Yuri to make sure I ensure a victory this year.”

He sighs, “The science fair? Again?” The student in front of him nods in response. “Can’t you let it go? You take these losses too seriously! You should focus on your victories! The second grade spelling bee, middle school valedictorian, and let’s not forget sophomore science fair.” He lists their victories, which seem to go in one ear at out the other.

“You don’t get it do you? It’s not about the victories, it's about the lack of victories! They should all be victories. Losing to him is embarrassing.”

“Your obsession with this is embarrassing.”

“Just because you’re my best friend does not mean you get to say something that insulting Mizuki Rui!”

Best friend: Rui Mizuki

Relation to the case: an outside spector with less than appropriate comments.

This is best understood in exhibit c: middle school.

To save the redundant amount of details, a brief example explains all the accounts.

Yuri and [Name] compete, yuri wins? [Name] complains to Rui and he comforts them. [Name] wins, Rui listens to them brag for a week straight.

It was straightforward, and simple. Of course there was also the added details of Rui practically saving [Name] every time another student thought they were bigger and tougher and threatened them for ‘being nerdy.’ (Cartoony but middle schoolers will be middle schoolers)

They truly owed him big time, but that does not forgive his stupidity. No matter how smart he truly was underneath all his casanova flirting.

The blond was about to retort, when the teacher walked in from the hall closing the door behind him.

It was a teacher they had before, Professor Dante. He was a presumably tall man, who’s height was visually limited by the wheelchair he found himself attached to.

No one knew what happened to the professor, but rumors had circulated about him being injured by a student. Though his condition could very easily as well be from birth.

This was unimportant, as what he was about to say was much more important.

The science fair.

A mandatory part of every advanced science class. Much to half of the class’ dismay, [Name] was thoroughly interested in this topic.

Unfortunately it was skimmed over, along with a mention of a year long project to start next month.

It was no worries, both of these things were to come in due time. And in due time, [Name] would beat Yuri Isami once and for all, and then never have to deal with him ever again.

Dante discussed the syllabus for the class a little longer before dismissing the class to do a simple back to school project.

“Seriously though, [Name], you need to start focusing on other things for once. Like for example homecoming, and who you’re gonna take, and how it’s going to be me.” Rui started talking again, as he picked up his pen to start writing on the small papers that the teacher was passing out.

They rolled their eyes in response, “I’m not going to homecoming, and I certainly wouldn’t take you.”

“You hate me and you want me to die.”

[Name] does not reply to Rui, simply rolling their eyes and getting to work. “Well if you had to take someone to homecoming, who would you take?” He asks, pointing his pen in their direction as he does so.

The student frowns, “You know the answer to that.”

Rui sighs, “Lucas Errant?” he asks, putting his pencil down. “Ding, finally something logical out of your mouth this period.”

Rui finally starts writing on his paper, they were simple ‘about me’s’, an annoying yet necessary part to the start of every class. “You’ve had a crush on him since freshman year.”

“Can you blame me? He is the perfect man, by all logical reasoning he is the only choice.” They finish up the small ‘about me’, and slide it towards the edge of the lab table they shared with Rui. “You’re done?”

“I was actually doing it, instead of gossiping. Which proves all prior points about my priorities.”

Rui rolls his eyes and finishes up his paper, “It does not, but to each their own, my love.” He slides his paper to be where [Name]’s was.

“Of course vermin like you would spend all the allotted time with drab chatter.” Yuri comes around and grabs the papers on the tall table.

“At least I have friends.” [Name] retorts back.

“I have friends!” He stutters out.

“Jiro doesn’t count, he's a patient.” They refute.

“Well-” Just as Yuri was about to speak, Professor Dante comes around and grabs the papers from his student and interrupts his voice. “It’s the same every year with you two. Would it kill you to just get along?”

Without missing a beat they both respond “Yes.”

He sighs, “You two are seniors now, it’s time you start acting more mature. At least start acting cordially with one another during this period.” They both stay silent. “For me? Or else I’ll force you to work together until you can.”

The two seniors glared at each other, and then the bell rang.

“Let’s go Rui.” [Name] picks up their bag and walks out the class, Rui rushes to join them.

It seems a new challenge approached Case Study: Isami Yuri, acting cordial with him.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Dante has no idea what he’s talking about!”

It had been a week, and nothing has changed in Dante’s favor. [Name] and Yuri were still bickering and competing as always.

Just today, the two competed over who could finish a lab the fastest. A group assignment that was supposed to take a while.

“I’m sure he does.” replied a voice from above the couch that [Name] had slumped themselves upon.

It was a maroon velvet couch with elaborate detailing dyed into it, classic decor of the voice who was speaking to them.

Edward Hart, a stay at home shut in who spends his time doing online school and watching twitch. The entire concept brings a tear to [Name]’s eye, they might keel over if that were them.

Luckily, it wasn’t. Though they couldn’t fault the man either, it was hard to go out due to his condition. They could get on him for slacking off though, but that was a topic for case study: Hart Edward. (a document that has already been made)

“What do you mean by that?” They look up at him as he moves to sit next to them. “Just that, perhaps, it was time you started acting more mature. In the real world you’ll have to work with people you don’t like all the time. I think he wants you two to know that.”

[Name] sighs, “I can work with people I don’t like! It’s just Yuri that I can’t tolerate.” Edward shakes his head, “There’s also the fact that as a teacher, having two intellectuals constantly fighting like children might not be the best thing in the world.”

“You talk like you have experience Ed, may I remind you you have none??” They point this out to the dark haired man next to them.

“I may not have experience, but YouTube does.” His rebuttal wasn’t a strong one, but [Name] wasn’t about to argue with him today on something this trivial when they can turn their attention to Rui who was walking into the living room with a plate of freshly baked pastries.

“You know I think Dante is onto something as well, it’d be nice to hear less about Yuri and more about myself for once.” He jokes, setting the plate down on the dark oak coffee table that sat in front of the couch.

“I don’t talk about Yuri that much!” [Name] raises their voice slightly, shocked and appalled that their friend would say such a thing.

The other two gave them an unconvinced look, “You literally only talk about beating him at science fair.” Rui says, picking up a sweet and popping it into his mouth.

“Do not! I also talk about my grades, and maybe video games, and yeah maybe the science fair but! Not always.” They complain back to him, grabbing a sweet for their own and tasting it.

“Exhibit A: Today, at lunch, I could not talk about my homecoming plans without you mentioning how homecoming was unimportant because you had to start on the science fair, so you can beat Yuri.” Rui retorts, mocking them a little by doing so.

“Or how about exhibit b? Last week’s rant about him from the first day of school.” Added Edward, who had previously been too busy eating a pastry to talk.

“Fine! But can you blame me?” They got a similar uninterested look, “Ok whatever, but you’ll see this will all pay off when I’m accepted into an Ivy League and he isn’t.”

“Whatever you wish to tell yourself, I will not stop you.” Edward dismisses them, to which Rui sighs. “Same here, I know there’s no stopping you when you’re already committed to something. But I do still think you should be a teenager some more! We don’t have long left.”

“I know, I know, I’ll take your suggestions into consideration. But only because it’s you.”

The conversation dropped and the 3 teens began talking about less important things, like what to watch. They ended up putting on Alpharad, by suggestion of Edward until the night got dark.

Edward and Rui lived together with another roommate named Lyca, who had been busy at the moment. This leads to [Name] often staying the night when they needed some space from home, or it got too late when hanging out.

It also helps that they live walking distance, which is how [Name] met Rui to begin with. (Of course when they met, his parents were still living with him and not out traveling the world.)

The rest of the month passed in a flash. School was slow and easy as everyone was getting back into the pace of things. Homecoming came and went. (Which [Name] did not go to, much to Rui’s dismay.) And Case Study: Isami Yuri saw no improvements.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/N: first chapter :3 this will go on ao3 soon!!! I hope you enjoyed this one!! Updates will probably 3-5 days depending on how inspired I am ^^

MasterDoc

Next

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #405

I had a weird dream that I don't remember very well. Something about needing to rehome all of our cats, for reasons I can't recall. I do, however, remember crying a lot.

Weird.

Today I scoured through the website for state jobs, looking for ones that I qualify for. I found a bunch of potential openings that I can maybe fill. But... I hit a roadblock. Apparently, a non-trivial number of them want me to attach a record of my unofficial college transcripts.

In order to get those, I need to access my college email, which I don't remember, because it has been like 13 years since last I've used it. I tried to get that info, but to do that, I need a PIN, which I also don't remember. So I tried to follow the process for that, but the PIN was sent... to the email address of an old high school teacher, because I didn't have my own email address back when I applied.

Sigh.

So I contacted the IT department over there to change the personal email address associated with my data over there (because I'm a big adult human now, with my very own email address and everything). But in order to do that, I need the address of where my mother lived at the time I applied, which I also don't remember.

...Sigh.

So I guess I'll go in person tomorrow; thankfully, the place where I gotta go isn't very far. I suppose I'll get it done after the orthodontist appointment, which is after physical therapy. So... tomorrow is probably gonna be pretty busy.

Aside from that, I... probably spent more time reading the news than I should have. The state of my brain right now... isn't great. Watching one's country descend into fascism in real time is really not good for the blood pressure, lemme tell ya. Still, what can I do aside from trying to keep my chin up and trying to be a source of support for those who need me?

We got burgers today. And I'm staying hydrated. In fact, I'm gonna get more water in like 10 minutes. I should probably eat again soon, too. Though admittedly, everything seems like it's either too much, or kinda gross.

...I wonder if you've experienced this. You wanna eat, but your body has decided that all food is illegal. Or maybe your body wants all the food, and can't choose, so it would rather sit, paralyzed and hungry. I'm in these states with some frequency. And, as insane as this is probably going to sound, sometimes I am in both states simultaneously, and the results are very weird, to say the least.

...Oh well. Maybe I'll ask M and J for suggestions or whatever, when I go down to get water.

I thought about playing Hades, but it feels incorrect. Continuing work on the crafting project also feels incorrect. I'm trying to get my brain to figure out what does feel correct, but it's being... uncooperative. I'm not really sure why.

On the bright side, I did get some pretty good pictures of the sky today. Here, check 'em out. I took one with the lamppost in front of me, and one with the lamppost behind me...

I decided to get pizza with mushrooms on it. I also got garlic naan and tzatziki sauce to dunk it in, and macaroni and cheese bites. They'll arrive soon. If they're pretty, I'll take pictures.

While I waited for the things to arrive, I decided to do some leisure writing, and I got clarity on a thing that has been bothering me for... gosh... a very long time. There's this thing I've been trying to do, and I thought I've been doing it wrong the whole time, but... actually I wasn't doing it wrong at all. I'm just not used to moving within the space, which makes it a little hard to navigate. But... I think I have a slightly better understanding of what I'm supposed to do. I guess time will tell me if I'm right.

Anyhoot. Here are the snacks we got...

This was a pizza with onions, mushrooms, and alfredo sauce:

This was a pizza with sausage, apples, and candied pecans:

These were gouda macaroni and cheese bites with garlic parm sauce:

...And this is tzatziki sauce made with goat milk yogurt, with some garlic naan:

...There are so many delightful things in my world. I wish you'd pop by someday so I can share them with you. Even though it's impossible, think about it anyway, okay?

I think I will sink a little more into some leisure writing; it's been a while since last I've done that, and it might explain why I've felt so disconnected from various things.

Today's letter is short. Sorry about it. With tomorrow being so busy, maybe I'll have a little more to write to you by then.

Please stay safe and healthy out there, Sephiroth. Please do your best to make choices that won't lead to you disappearing. Because I love you, and... I don't want to imagine what my life might have been like if I hadn't had your example to look to when I was struggling the most.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[ad0rechuu]

★ MILKY WAY. ━━ (057) sera watanabe

WORD COUNT. 1282

WARNINGS. angst, an argument: yelling, crying (fighting, bleeding, losing 이젠 지쳤어)

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

SERA WATANABE IS SOMEONE THAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED AROUND. FROM THE MOMENT YOU TWO MET, YOU WERE ATTACHED AT THE HIP.

Both of you became trainees at an exceptionally early age. If being the two youngest wasn’t enough to seal your friendship, she was the first person you could comfortably communicate with as well.

Her being one of the only other trainees that spoke English pulled you into a whirlwind of memories. Some bad, some mundane but when you think of Sera, mostly good memories come up.

From when the two of you snuck out for the first time, trainee evaluations, her teaching you Japanese, hundreds of lessons in singing and dancing to crying together because life isn’t and was never easy.

She was the light in your darkest days and someone you expected to be a constant in your unpredictable life.

And then one day she was just gone, leaving you nothing but a note saying that she quit.

You tried calling, texting, emailing, even going as far to reach out to her family. But she never responded back to you no matter what you did.

While Sera Watanabe is confident, caring, clever, and comfortable to be around, she is also impulsive, unpredictable, explosive and selfish.

Your head lays in her lap as the two of you lounge in your room. She’s looking out the window while you look at her, and it reminds you of old times.

Of course, you've missed this, but your brain is busier mulling over the situation you’re currently in. The heavy feeling on your heart makes you wish it was more black and white. At least, that way, you would know what to do by now. Sure, they might like you back but they also lied to you and that’s not something you can get over so easily. Understanding and forgiving don’t go hand in hand.

The atmosphere is heavy despite the calming music playing through her phone. You finally notice her staring back when her fingers carefully wipe away the unnoticed tears on your cheeks. You close your eyes at the comfort, exhaling.

“Are you still crying about those boys my little otter?” Sera started, now caressing your cheekbone with her thumb, a soft smile on her pretty features. “Don’t cry.. They aren’t worth the headache you’ll get later, hon.”

Her words make you open your eyes and meet her gaze as you reply.

“I don’t know about that,” You shrug. “I still care about them.”

She scoffs at your words but continues her ministrations. “Even after they lied to you?”

“Even after they lied to me.”

She hums response as you return to the heavy silence. You know that she doesn’t agree. You know that as she looks away from you, her nose slightly scrunches, meaning she’s annoyed.

Chewing on your lower lip, you decide that you can’t handle the uncertainty. You sit up to face her, her hands coming up to fix your hair in the process.

“I need to ask you something.” You reach up and stop her actions by taking her wrist gently in your own.

She nods, urging you to continue.

“How did you find out about.. y’know, everything?” As you get the words out, suddenly a wave of nervousness hits you like a bad omen.

Sera looks away at your question, busying herself with the walls of your small room.

“I just stumbled on it when I saw that Swan retweeted something from a fan account with a similar name as one of them.. and they all have an otter emoji in their twitter bio.” She dismisses.

Her words confuse you even more, especially the way she says them.

“But why didn’t you tell me right away?”

She pulls her wrist out your grip and turns away from you. “I don’t know Yn, I wasn’t sure.”

The few words she spoke stung more than it should have, the tone even more so. You scan her face, she hasn’t looked at you once since you asked her that seemingly simple question. As much as you want to avoid it, you know what that means.

“You’re lying to me, aren't you?” You whisper.

For the first time in a while, she actually faces you, tears threatening to fall from the glistening brown eyes that usually shone with so much assurance. You can see her getting worked up as she struggles to find the words to make up another excuse.

“What I said about the way I found out is true.” She says, swallowing down a sob.

You nod, your facial expression and tone of voice never changing as you continue to ask for the truth.

“And what about the reason you didn’t tell me right away?”

She trails off and looks down in shame. “I…”

“How does that make you any different from them?”

Her gaze hardened at the question, like you just swore at her or something. Sera stood up harshly, startling you in the process. Her long cocoa hair swirled as she turned around.

“How can you say that? I-I’m not like them! That’s not fair!” She hissed.

You raise you own voice too. “How is it not fair?”

“It's not fair that you’re comparing me to them when all I did was try to protect you! It's not fair that you’re defending them when they hurt you this much! It’s not fair that they already have your attention, while I didn’t even stand a chance! It’s not fair how much I love you and have loved you for all these years yet you never see me!”

There was no doubt the other girls could hear her rant by now as tears ran violently down her face. Her loud voice resonated off the walls until she reaches the very last sentence, when she speaks the last sentence her crying voice is barley a whisper.

It takes every muscle in your body to keep you from running towards her crying figure even though you’re crying too.

“I did see you, Sera, but you left and I moved on! Did you expect me to wait forever?” The question comes out as pleading as you also stand up. “Don’t I deserve to be happy too?”

Your words must’ve hit her as she freezes. Her arms hug her body while the supposedly ‘calming’ music still continues to play.

“I was.. I’m jealous.”

“I care about you and I don’t want to lose you again.” You move closer to her. “But please stop pretending that this was all for my sake.”

Before you can get any closer she grabs her phone and her bag, avoiding your gaze as you just watch her clumsily move around the room.

“I think I should leave.”

You don’t say anything, silently but begrudgingly agreeing with her. You both know that this conversation is something that had been coming since the two of you met again. But now that it’s actually happening, it doesn’t feel right.

Before she can leave, you call out for her one last time. “Goodbye, Sera. Please.. don’t be a stranger.”

“You were right. You deserve to be happy. Even if that’s not with me.” To your surprise, she turns back in your direction, a sad smile on her beautiful features. “And as much as I hate to admit it.. Seonghwa, San, and Mingi truly care about you, Yn.”

Then she closes the door, taking the noise and the heavy atmosphere with her, leaving you standing in silence, alone.

Sera Watanabe is confident, caring, clever and comfortable to be around, she is also impulsive, unpredictable, explosive and selfish.

And she is right. Despite everything, you know they care about you.

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NOTES. who keeps eating fatous pudding :(( ++ i’m sorry that this chapter is terribly written but it’s necessary and i like it’s contents! yn deserves happiness and so do u and i promise the next chapter isn’t as heavy! anyway love ya let’s kiss :3

TAGLIST. @bunnystrm @seongwin @aestheticsluut @meginthebuilding27 @gaebestie @stopeatread @pr1ncessm1ng1 @persphonesorchid @se0nghwaswife @seonghwasslytherin @leeknowsnothing @alixnsuperstxr @bluehwale-main @miriamxsworld @tocupid @rieuvie @sunoo-bby @jcngh0-hq @dudufodd @nikisbf @mrowwww @end0rchans @qtdenks @mintgki @dear-dreamie @leo-seonghwa @evilsailorsenshi @seonghwaddict @choichaeyiul @iw4milf @yunstarz @cvberidiot @not2daym8 @tubatu-wari-wari @sunshine1438 @jaehunnyy @brrrkdslek @whippedforbeomgyu @amara-mars @crvzy-fujoshi @hyuk4ngel @atinyinateezverse @nickiminajleftasscheek

[zpiderwebs]

(Apologies for this being..SUPER..late.)

Pink bandaids and bloody knuckles

Mullet! Stanley pines x reader

Nights were getting colder. Around the time you start sleeping with another blanket to keep your body warm. The condo you lived in was overpriced, but it was the best place that stayed fairly close to your budget. Your landlord was pretty laid back, although she never really have two shits about complaints and her emails were always blown up by the rest of the residents. Every time you called her about an issue, she would just reply with the same response, her raspy voice in your ear. "I'll get to it when I got the time." And hangs up. Great. So now, you currently had a broken heater. Wasn't no issue when you practically owned more blankets than what you needed as a solo person. You didn't get a lot of snow, probably barley, but it was fun to watch it late at night. Still no snow yet.

It was about six in the morning. You were up and getting ready for work since it usually took you forever to leave the door, always forgetting something, so you always took the last few minutes to look for everything. Once you were finally out the door, you locked up the horribly creaky and cracked door. Your feet crunched against the already frozen grass. The air was painfully cold for your lungs but you managed fine. Walking to your familiar old car who was still surprisingly up and running, (passed down from your mother) you admired her old beauty and how she was a fighter. You grew up riding that car, so, you definitely had an attachment to her.

Again, the cold snapped you back into the present as a big breeze hit you. Quickly unlocking and scrambling into your car, you immediately turned on the engine and started up the heater. You weren't sure to complain about the cold or be happy about it. It fairly got very cold back in New Jersey, snowed heavily too all the time. Here, you barely got that.

The fond memories of playing outside in the snow as a carefree child began to fill your head. You remembered that time you were going to school, you slipped and busted your ass, making you stay home from school that day since you sprained your ankle too. That brought up another memory. The two boys who never really left your side. The Pines twins who lived down the road from your parent's apartment. The two twin boys who were extremely excited when you first moved in to the street, thrown pebbles at your bedroom window to get your attention. And since that day, you three became inseparable. Well, up to high-school. Ford took his education very seriously, never really wanting to slack off. Stan was different, always getting into mischief with you. That's how you both ended up trying your first cigarette together in the back of a deli. Reckless but two peas in a pod. His favorite nick name to call you was always "doll". You still remember the late nights you would sneak out just to cross the street over to the Pines Pawn shop. You would spend the whole night talking with stan while Ford got his beauty sleep, earplugs and everything.

Stan was..something extraordinary, in your words. You loved how fun he was, how carefree. That's why you never really denied having a crush on him. He had such a charming character that you were never really sure why so many girls rejected him. He was funny, a flirt, and genuinely very caring once you got to know him to the bone. That's what brings you back to your sprained ankle you got that one time in high-school. Stanley immediately skipped school that day to stay at your place and take care of you while Ford went since he had a paper due which Stan could care less about. You were more important than some stupid essay. That whole day he stuck next to you, watching movies on your old TV while he made himself comfortable on the couch with you. If you needed something, he would go and get it for you. Well..something about that spark a lot and..ended with him kissing you. You weren't exactly sure how to feel, but for the rest of the night after he left, you felt like exploding. Your "friendship" with stan definitely changed after that. He was more clingy and touchy with you, always wanting to hold your hand. You didn't mind it. Things were never made official, probably because you both were still seeing how and where you wanted this to go. This went on for months until..well..he got kicked out.

It was early summer. It was soon to be Stan and Ford's birthday. You were excited to finally celebrate their 18th birthday. You had gone over to talk about what they should do as a trio, only to be met with Ford a sad and tired look on his face. When he told you what had happened, you felt like your world just came crashing down. He left without even saying goodbye? You would've let him stay with you. You would've...helped him. Your emotions were so messed up that when you graduated high-school, the first thing you did was pack up your things and move away. You didn't hear from Ford either.

Snapping out of your thoughts, the car was hotter than expected. You turned the heat down and glanced at the small clock in your car. 6:56..Shit!! You were super lost in thought. Your shift started at 7. Fuck. You quickly pulled out-- but as you did, you noticed a figure and almost hit them, you yelped and quickly pressed your foot down on your break pedal. You parked the car and stepped out.

"Holy shit, I'm so, so sorry I didn't see you! Sorry sir, please forgive me in a rush." You quickly stammered. You barely caught a glimpse of the man before you realized you really had no time. Your boss would be all over your ass if you arrived later than 7:30. Quickly scrambling back into your car, you backed up and sped off, trying to also be mindful of the icy roads.

The man stood there, his breath hitched as he had quickly recognized your voice and that car. It was like a slap to the face or something. He stood there for a few moments before finally murmuring something underneath his breath...

"Doll..?"

The time read 9:47pm. You barely arrived home awake. Lunch rush today was shit and you nearly lost your shit at a customer who was complaining about there being too much ketchup on his burger. You nearly ripped his head off. You stumbled out of your car, locking her up before walking towards your condo door. Just as about you were to unlock the door...you felt eyes on you. You turned around to see nothing. You sighed.

"I really need some proper sleep." You mumbled, unlocking the door and stepping in, pushing the door shut with your foot. You threw your keys onto the coffee table of your small living room, setting your purse down and removing your coat, not bothering to hang it up as your threw it onto your small couch. Stretching and popping your back, you let out a groan as you headed towards your room, kicking your shoes off in the process. Stripping off your greasy and dirty work clothes, throwing them aside into your bin. Now, standing in your undergarments, you quickly slipped on some loose shorts and a shirt that was way too big on you. Belonged to your dad, but you stole it back in senior year and never gave it back. Crashing onto your bed, you didn't even bother to turn off your lamp, closing your eyes and immediately falling asleep.

You immediately jolted awake to the sound of banging on your front door. You quickly scrambled off of bed, grabbing the bat you kept behind your bedroom door. You quickly glanced at your nightstand clock, it read 2:20am. You swallowed hard as you quickly walked towards the front door, bat in hand. You quickly unlocked the door and flew it open, holding the bat above mid air. A deep voiced yelp immediately reached your ears as the man took a few steps back.

"WAIT, WAIT! IM NOT GONNA HURT YA!" the voice called out, the man put his hands up in defense. He quickly pulled his hood off from his head, revealing an old familiar face, now adored by a messy outgrown mullet. Your heart stopped and the bat now fell from your limp hands, hitting your condo floor with a thud.

"Hey doll..its..been a while, ey?" Stan chuckled, his fists clenching next to his sides. He was nervous. "H-Holy shit..Stanley..!?" You were wide awake now. You reached out for him but the coldness of the late night hit your skin, immortal making you shiver and stepping back into the slight warmth of your home. "Woah, woah, hey. Don't come out, you'll get sick. Can I uh...come in?" You didn't give him an immediate response but you nodded, allowing him in. As he walked past you, respectfully taking off his dirty snow covered boots, you couldn't help but admire his messy mullet. It looked damn good.

After a brief moment of just starring at him, he finally realized your intense gaze on him. "Hey uh..you've been starring for a while." Your cheeks quickly flushed in embarrassment and you coughed, closing the front door. "Oh uh, sorry.." As your eyes slowly trailed up his figure, you noticed the specks of blood on your wooden floors. You quickly looked at what seemed to be his bleeding knuckles. "Holy shit, are you okay!? Your bleeding!" You quickly called out, stepping close to him before he took a step back, hiding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "A-ah, don't worry bout that.." "What do you mean 'don't worry bout that'!? You appear at my condo doorstep after what, a damn decade i haven't seen you, knuckles bleeding?! Seriously Stanley, what the fuck?" you huffed out, clearly in distress. You sighed, trying to keep your cool.

"Okay, wait here. I'm gonna get something to clean your knuckles up." Before he could even mutter out something, you quickly disappeared into the back of your condo. Stan stood there, he could hear you rummaging through your things faintly. All he could do was stand there and just think about everything. You've really haven't changed. You still look very..god..beautiful as he remembered. The years have done you good. Finally, you came back with some rubbing alcohol bottle in your arm, some disinfecting wipes, and a box of pink bandaids. "I don't have much...but, hopefully these can keep your knuckles from getting infected."

As you stepped closer and reached out for his hands-- Stan immideatly took a step back, a bit tense. "Oh, sorry. Can i see your hands so i can clean them up?" You murmured. He simply nodded, extending his caloused hands out to you. You gently took them into your hands, never realizing how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. The thought stayed in the back of your mind as you placed the bottle of alcohol down on a nearby surface along with the bandaids. You opened the wipes and plucked on out. You began to wipe his scraped up knuckles, making sure to clean up any dirt around them. After, you grabbed another wipe, pouring some of the rubbing alcohol on it before gently reaching for his hands again.

"This might sting a little." Stan scoffed and gave you a sly smirk. "Oh, please. Think I can't handle a little disenfecting? Cmon doll, i'm a man- AH! That does sting! what the...?" Stan jolted. He was not as tough as he thought. "Why does this actually sting so much?" Stan murmured. "It's a really good brand. Trust me, i use it more than what i need to. I'm not the smartest when it comes to cutting things." Stan chuckled "ah, really? Guess your still getting hurt without me around."

"what do you mean by that?" Stans smile slightly dropped. "You don't remember? You were always the one getting hurt besides me. Somehow, each time we went back home after playing, you'd end up with brand new bruises and multiple scrapes! Cmon, doll..I thought you would've remembered. Me and six.." Stan suddenly cut himself off, getting quiet. "...Is something wrong, stanley?" "...Nah, don't worry about it. I forgot was i was gonna say." He looked away, ignoring your eyes. You wanted to say something, but instead you kept quiet and continued to tend to his knuckles. Afterwards, his knuckles were now adorned with pretty pink glittery bandaids. "Heh, the pink doesn't suit me but, i guess whatever it takes them from getting infected, right?" You softly giggled. "Yeah. they don't look that bad on you tho..." You murmured, reaching out for his hand with your own. You softly smiled, looking down at your hand comparisons.

"It..feels nice to see you again."

"Yeah, i bet. I..missed ya too, doll."

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours, his rough palm against your softer one. You felt..warm and fuzzy on the inside. He didn't show it but..he did too.

"We've got a lot of catching up to do, toots."

[themculibrary]

Stucky + Samtasha Masterlist

Are You Lost In Paradise? (ao3) - dameronpoetry E, 54k

Summary: The one where Steve and Bucky are both actors who meet on the Evening Show with Clint Barton. They fall for each other hard - as you'd expect - but things get in the way - though no one falls off any trains.

This is a tale involving motorcycles, cuddling, disgustingly cute emails, terrifying Russian actresses, heartbreak, snarky New Yorkers, ridiculously convoluted plots between interested parties, and maybe, just maybe love.

Dude, Where’s My Pants? (ao3) - debwalsh steve/bucky, natasha/sam N/R, 3k

Summary: In which Steve wakes up with the man of his dreams in his bed ... but apparently that’s his crush’s worst nightmare.

What happens in Vegas may spell the end of a beautiful friendship.

It’s a good thing Nat and Sam aren’t going to allow Steve and Bucky to get away with not talking about what happened ...

Family Placement (ao3) - notlucy E, 88k

Summary: Steve Rogers had a train ticket in hand and the chance to begin again after losing everything in Brooklyn - his father, his mother, the comfort and familiarity of home. Going west meant the opportunity to become his own man and stake his claim on the wide, flat prairie.

Then, of course, there was Bucky Barnes.

Fire Alarms (ao3) - starlight_starbright E, 11k

Summary: Something sets the fire alarm of and, thankfully, Steve forgets his room key.

I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. (ao3) - relenafanel M, 6k

Summary: Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror.

He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone.

He got neither.

New text from Steve: What do you want it to say?

Or: Bucky strikes up a flirtation with a stranger over text message in the month leading up to Valentine's Day.

Laughter Lines (ao3) - drmcbones M, 100k

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?

Wrong.

Murder on the Dancefloor (ao3) - 74days T, 3k

Summary: After getting over a bad relationship, Steve is taken out for a night on the town by his best friend Sam. However, when he sees his ex on the dancefloor with a much hotter guy, Steve decides to grab the nearest guy and make out with him. It's actually a really good decision - if you don't count getting thrown out of the club.

Poltergeists (ao3) - enemyofrome T, 17k

Summary: When the helicarriers blow up and the Winter Soldier goes on the run, he takes Steve with him. He's got a name written in Morse code on the inside of his arm, a ton of questions he doesn't know how to ask, and now, a new handler with absolutely zero sense of self-preservation to contend with. Life is hard.

In which Bucky tries to figure out whether he's a human being, Steve does everything he can to keep from losing him again, and there are lots of explosions.

Shoot a Hole into the Sun (ao3) - keire_ke, PR Zed (przed) T, 28k

Summary: It was Nat who'd noticed the pattern. Every afternoon at exactly the same time, Steve and Barnes would share a heart-in-their eyes-hug, and then moon over each other at a table in their favourite coffee shop in the Tower.

Sam and Nat spend their afternoons making fun of the old people in love. Which maybe isn't the smartest thing in the world when they just might be in love themselves.

The Daily Rogers (ao3) - Nonymos E, 32k

Summary: College AU. May contain exchange students, a Starbucks addiction, daddy issues, anger issues, closets and how to get out of them, the ever-ominous influence of social networks, various levels of betrayal, awfully poor life choices, but also, ultimately, real chunks of love.

The Right Way to Fall (ao3) - Taste_is_Sweet T, 41k

Summary: He's just scruffy enough that most people would avoid eye contact in case he asked them for change. But his eyes are startling blue and stark and wild, and he looks at Sam and Sam looks at him, and yeah. Turns out he knows where Bucky is after all.

Except, Sam reminds himself, this isn't Bucky. This is the Winter Soldier, who's gone completely, absolutely still like an animal trying to decide whether to attack or run. And Sam is suddenly, terribly aware of all the people around them: all the tourists and the kids on their field trips; all the families with their babies and toddlers; all the sentimental fools like him come to visit Captain America on an overcast Wednesday afternoon.

But Sam has also seen that expression on the men and women who come to his counseling sessions. He's seen it in the mirror more times than he cares to count. He knows that kind of fear and pain, just like he knows that the man who was once James Buchanan Barnes could have already killed him. Killed as many people as he wanted to, and run.

He could have, but he didn't.

Through a dark night, without a sunrise, love will tell us where to go (ao3) - LunaCanisLupus_22 E, 126k

Summary: “I know you,” he says faintly.

“Yes,” the man agrees without looking up. “I’m Captain America.”

That’s no it. That can’t be it. There’s something more. There’s something-

“No.” The declaration is persistent now. “I know you.”

Or the one where Bucky doesn't remember being Bucky or the Winter Soldier but ends up a little too interested in Captain America anyway.

Welcome to the Jungle (ao3) - neversaydie E, 44k

Summary: "What do you think about guy-guy scenes?"

He was too self-conscious to act, modelling didn't pay enough, and time out of school for the medical trial that fixed his body had left him barely scraping a pass on his GED. He shared an apartment with a burlesque dancer, and she'd talked him into it over a weekend and way too much tequila.

Three pictures and one embarrassingly short amateur jerk-off video later, and here he is.

"Gay scenes?"

His mom can never find out about this.

[Porn Industry AU]

When Life Gives You Lemons (ao3) - starbunny G, 9k

Summary: Steve's idea of a simple life consisted of two things. First, drawing and taking art commissions whenever he pleased, and second, taking care of his wonderful garden. 

What it did NOT include was: Having the local wildlife unanimously decide that his garden was the greatest sanctuary ever, attracting the attention of the mysterious species of humans known as 'The Avengers', or starting a war with a cunning raccoon that destroyed everything in Steve's garden, then learning that the raccoon was not really a raccoon after all and Steve should have really known better. 

What has become of his life?