#suck my bawbag

[hellpuppetswithfleshymembers]

🤣😂🤣🙄🤣😂🤣 Yeah, No. Suck the juice out of a burlap sack of rotting, diseased kangaroo dicks, you delusional pricks.

[elexaria]

I have an idea for part 2 of mean!ghost in poly ghoap x reader fic where reader breaks things off and moves out, leaving only a note on the counter. Some time later, maybe a few months, she gets into another relationship with gaz or price (or both)

If both, the two men are patient with reader, and make her feel apart of the relationship, rather than a one-sided thing. They shower her with love, and never exclude her (except maybe with military stuff bc of legality things)

A year since reader left, ghoap sees reader at the park getting kisses on each cheek from the two men, telling her they love her

this has been itching my brain because i could totally see gaz swooping you off of your feet.

you two were introduced to one another when at the pub for johnny’s birthday. though gaz was familiar with the unusual polyamorous nature of the living situation, you had absolutely no idea he knew. he’s a charming guy, absolutely handsome and he knows how to schmooze you ‘til you’re nothing but a giggling puddle. it irks johnny, gets under his skin how much you’re glowing and babbling around kyle. still, he tries to enjoy his night— coddled up to simon with a sour pout.

the aggressive from simon towards you begins to grow, especially now that johnny’s absolutely pissing him off whenever he rants about how close you’ve become to gaz. “i don’t get it, i mean?? whit does she see in kyle? he’s a bawbag sometimes. disnae even have cool hair like me.” he huffs out, thick eyebrows scrunched as simon grunts from underneath the covers, sucking johnny off to try and get his mind off of you. simon towers over you every chance he gets, intimidating you. and it only gets worse when you stop hanging out with johnny in favour of seeing gaz every once in a while.

and then kyle finally convinces you to move out. you confide in him about the living situation, how it was great at first but now johnny is emotionally dependent on you and simon looks ready to pounce on you anytime johnny gets jealous. it breaks his heart seeing how you’re not being treated right, and so gaz asks you a question that changes the trajectory of your life. “fancy moving into my flat? i promise to keep it tidy, just for you.” he teases, winking as you giggle. with a nod, you smile and lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. it’s different to the times you’ve kissed johnny and simon— it’s not rushed, it’s not hedonistic. it’s… sweet. it’s honest. gaz kisses you gently, as if one kiss too harsh in nature will break you.

the note left on the kitchen counter is simple. “i’ve moved out, don’t contact me please.”

and it absolutely destroys johnny. he can’t comprehend why you’ve left, what could have possibly been wrong? he turns to simon with teary eyes, note in his hands as he frowns. “i don’t get it.” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. simon sighs, burly arms instinctively wrapping around his boyfriend to bring some comfort to him. “fuck her, yeah? we only need each other.” he murmurs quietly into the crook of johnny’s neck, simon’s hands resting on the small of his back. all the while a small smile twitches at the corner of simon’s lips.

because now he finally has johnny all to himself again.

[oniraki]

Broken into fractures

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

TW : Mental health, Psych ward, mentions of : self harm, suicide wishes/attempts , severe trauma (both Simon and reader), dark themes , angst, hurt/comfort , swearing , nicotine and psychiatric medication/sedation use - maybe too much tagging but it's better safe than sorry I guess?

AN : inspired by all the fantastic artists and writers here I gathered the courage to try and write something up myself. Hope I don't mess shit up .. please have patience with me for I really don't know what I am doing right now (and English is not my first language..)

"you're in time out Mr.Riley.." his psychiatrist says in a hushed tone, making Simon's head throb painfully. He does not like that bawbag of a man with his silly round glasses and his pathetic attempts to comb his hair in a way, that would hide his growing baldness. Simon tries to focus on Doc.Hershal's words but instead his eyes are glued to a coffee stain on the man's button down.

"Mr.Riley do you even pay attention?" A grunt is the only response that so called doctor gets out of him. The man sighs. "You hurt another patient, Mr.Riley.." he tries again and Simon chuckles hoarsely. "I'm well aware of that. He had it coming for some time .." - "You broke his nose." The doctor states more urgently, observing Simon's features as far as possible, since half of his face is hidden behind a black scarf.

"Fucking hell..should've broken his neck instead." Dr.Hershal shakes his head. "We have talked about this plenty of times, didn't we, Mr.Riley? This is no healthy way of coping with your feelings. This is unacceptable behavior above all of it. Every patient has a right to be here, to heal and to be safe while doing so"

Simon could feel his blood boil, hear it rushing through his whole body. Safety? He was talking about safety after all, that happened earlier that day? "Where was her right of safety when that fucker had his hands all over her...?!" The psychiatrist nods "I have heard about the incident. But that does not justify your aggressive behavior. That was something to be dealt with by the hospitals staff, Mr.Riley."

Incident. The nurses should've handled this. "And still nobody showed up fast enough to put her out of her misery, for fucks sake!"

His heart was beating way too fast, his bruised hands shaking in his lap. Knuckles cut open from that other man's broken teeth. He felt no shame, no regret. He'd do it all over again. Do anything to keep you safe, to protect you from harm. Even if it ment that he had to be locked up here longer than he had anticipated.

He'd do it for you.

Anything..

_______

The light was nearly blinding you as you crossed the threshold of the door, leading to the cage on the hospitals rooftop. You've never been entitled to garden privileges, going out alone and wandering around the paths between old trees and decorative bushes. You couldn't be trusted, the nurses always explained with that sorry, kinda pittying smile on their faces. You'd be a danger to yourself, they'd argue. Couldn't risk you hurting yourself, fulfilling your death wish..

The cage was just a sorry excuse of a garden. An area with fake grass and plants, some benches, secured by a Chain-link fence.. but it was your only escape from the sterile and sad gray walls of the ward, crushing you between them until you couldn't breathe. Closing you in, never letting you go. The flickering of the neon lights, the squeaking of the linoleum floor. Cold,blood sucking fingers that had a hold of you. Everything designed to torture and torment you furthermore.

The only way for you to leave that place was in a body bag. That much you were sure of.

"Hey scare-bear.." you whispered as you let yourself slump down on the fake grass next to Simon. He didn't even flinch or look at you at your sudden intrusion of his space. Not even when your head was leaning against his biceps. No words or sounds left his lips as he fetched a cigarette out of the box, lighting it up on the one he was smoking and then offering it to you. You stayed in comfortable silence for a smoke or two. Simon could feel the tension leaving his body, how his shoulders relaxed more and more with every passing minute. You were here. With him. Not in the observation room with that big window, directly connected to the nurses office. Not sedated and fixated. Not alone.. never alone, as long as he could impede it.

You sneaked your arm around his, your hand engulfing his with featherlight touches. The nurses patched him up properly after his emergency session with Hershal.

"'m sorry, love." You could feel the vibration of Simon's voice. Calming and soothing as a lullaby. He still didn't look at you, instead he kept his gaze on the sundown, throwing another cigarette butt off of the roof. "nothing to be sorry for, Si. It's my fault they relieved you of all of your privileges.." you murmured kinda dejected, petting his hand ever so lovingly.

Simon huffed, shaking his head eagerly, nearly making his hood fall down. "I'd trade every fucking, meaningless privelege if that's what it takes to keep you safe. Stop acting like it was your fault. You didn't ask him to touch you.. should've killed that bastard the second he tried to get close to you the first time."

Your movements stilled for a long moment until you released a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"they all told you to stay away from me, didn't they...?" Your voice was merely anything above a whisper. Simon only grunted in response. "As if that's ever going to happen. Nothing can stop me from being near you, little gremlin."

"but what, if they're right, scare-bear?" You ask, now avoiding his gaze that lingers on your face. "What if.. I'm no good for you? Making your condition worse..?" You thought intensely about it for the last couple of weeks. Simon used to make progress, used to get better.. at least until you came along. Certainly it hast to be your fault. "Is that what they believe or what you believe?" He snapped at you, hating himself for the harshness in his voice immediately.

You heard the night nurses whisper about you and Simon. About you being a liability to him. Stopping his progress, pulling him down into your dark abyss.

Your mind began spiraling again.

"I need words, love. Talk to me.. don't shut me out. Not again.." he demanded softly, freeing his arm out of your grasp. He'd leave you, right ? Because he realized how much of a burden you were.

But instead of getting up and leaving he placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him gently, as if he might break you.

But by now your thoughts and emotions were cutting too deep, pulling you into a kind of headspace where'd you go nonverbal ..

Burden. Threat. Liability. Rotten heart and soul inside a useless, broken body. Not good enough. Not loveable.

Why can't you finally die?

" 'm here, lovie. I got you." He whispered into the crown of your head. "It's okay not to be okay right now. We'll get through it, together."

Oh how you just wanted to believe him..

[captain-mj]

I really love your Selkie!Soap au. Maybe Ghost could discover a bit more about Selkie culture, and the generational trauma that Soap might have?

YES!! Love this! Direct continuation of the previous post

Ghost brought Soap a deer. Soap stared at it for a minute before laughing. "What do we do now?"

Ghost hummed. "I'll clean it and cook it for you." And you'll fall in love with me.

"I see." Soap smiled. "Need any help?"

"No, I got it. It's bloody work but if you want sit with me..."

So they sat together in the little shed, both mostly quiet but the radio was playing. Soap watched him work and Ghost tried not to glance at him too often. He wore a surgical mask but that was more for cleanliness than anything else.

They ate well, both of them sitting next to each other as the sun set.

Soap ended up stealing some of Ghost's off his plate despite there being plenty of food still in the kitchen but it was fine. He glared at Soap who only smiled at him.

A ringtone sounded and Soap froze. It sounded like a personal one.

Ghost didn't move for a moment, waiting for Soap to pick it up. Soap just stared for a minute, picking at the food for a second before remembering himself and answering.

"Hey, dad."

Ghost perked up immediately. He had heard next to nothing about Soap's dad. He wondered if he was a selkie too. Or something else.

"Yes, sir. I am on leave, but my..." There was a pause before Soap swallowed. "My coat holder commanded I come with him."

Ghost frowned a little, but he stayed quiet.

"Yes. It's new. I haven't had... Yes, sir." Soap was visibly wilting. "I am... He's commanding me back. Sorry, sir." He hung up after a second and quietly put his phone down.

"I take it your dad is not... good?"

"No. I hope you two never have to talk, but its best he doesn't know we're close." Soap rubbed his arm, looking tiny and cold. Ghost scooted closer.

"Are you alright?"

"It's how he always is. He was excited someone has my coat again. That I'm at your mercy. He's a fucking prick." Soap looked down. "My mom can't leave him or else I'd never talk to him again."

"He... has her coat?"

"Yeah. I tried to find it. Took a couple slaps for it. But I never could. Swear I tore that place apart looking."

Ghost pulled Soap closer. "I see."

"He's such a bawbag."

"Is she the only selkie you know?"

"No. I know a few. All of them are like her. Trapped in their positions. Either as a spouse or caretaker or worker or..." Soap sighed. "No choice. No control. Stuck until either the coatholder dies or we get lucky."

Ghost was quiet for a while before reaching over and pulling him closer. "You... want this, right?"

"I do. Don't worry. You gave it back. You're a good man." He leaned into him. "My sister got lucky. She's just human. My other sister is a selkie but dad... protects her a little more. I think it's because she's the baby."

"Coatholder. Is that what you guys call them?"

"Not the most creative name, but yeah. Gets the message across. For a while Master was used but... yeah, it felt just a little too degrading." Soap hummed and shoved the plate towards him. "He'll want to meet you. I can try to lie and keep you from him. I don't... I don't want him to know it's my choice. If he knows..." Soap started to breath heavier, holding on to Ghost.

"Johnny, you're okay. He can't do anything to you."

"It's not me I'm worried about." Soap said softly. "If he gets upset he takes it on her and..."

Ghost winced. This entire situation reminding him just a little too much of his own time growing up. "If your mom had left your dad, would you have grown up a seal?"

"No. She likely would've abandoned me." Soap answered honestly. "It sucks but that's reality. I would've been left with him and my sisters. Can't blame her. She didn't choose to have me."

Ghost frowned and gently touched his chin, making him look at him. He smiled awkwardly. "You know when I came back from the military, the first thing I did was wait in my mom's kitchen."

"Why?"

"For my dad to hit her. He did eventually. He always did. It was all the excuse I need. I dragged him outside and beat him to hell for it."

Soap looked surprised. "Damn."

"Mom kicked me out for it. But she didn't let him back in the house either and that's all that mattered to me." Ghost took a deep breath. "I should meet your dad."

"Simon. You can't beat up my dad."

"I could, but I just think I should meet him. I want to meet your mom too."

Soap didn't look convinced but he nodded. "Alright, Si. Alright." He kissed his hand gently, looking tired. "Mind if we go to bed?"

Ghost hummed. "Course not. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be in the spare room, of course." Soap smiled at him, a hint of teasing there.

Ghost followed him like a shadow until he got to his door and then went to his own room.

Once he was in bed, he stared up at the ceiling quietly. He thought of Soap's mom, the gentle voice on the phone and how Soap shrank back.

It must be hard. Trusting Ghost of all people with so much. Even now, the thought occurred to him that it wouldn't be very hard for him to take the coat back. Or even just hurt him. They were alone in the middle of the woods.

And Soap still trusted him.

If it was anyone else, he'd call them an idiot for trusting the Ghost, but he knew as well as Johnny did that Ghost was harmless to him.

Did those other selkies think their human was harmless? Was their first meeting them taking the coat? Demanding so much from them?

Someone had done this before. Soap had mentioned someone had taken it before. On purpose. Had they hurt him? Forced him to do anything?

The idea of a younger Soap being controlled the way Ghost had read about in those stories made him feel sick.

He got up at some point and like the needle on a compass, he pointed towards his north star.

Soap was probably asleep. He also used the spare for a reason. Ghost shouldn't bother him. There were boundaries for a reason.

Soap's sad eyes popped back into his head. The distant look when he talked about the past or the others he knew.

He didn't knock in case he was asleep.

Soap jerked up immediately. "Jesus, Ghost you scared me. Something wrong?"

"Scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over." Ghost repeated, staring at him. Both their eyes reflected the light, both finding each other easily.

Once Soap did move over, Ghost climbed in with him. He pulled him safely to his chest and held him.

"No one is ever going to touch you again." Ghost mumbled into his hair. "I'm never going to let something like that happen to you again."

"You don't even know what they did." Soap knew exactly what Ghost was talking about, like always.

"Doesn't matter." Ghost squeezed him. "Never again."

Soap let Ghost hold him, putting his head on Ghost's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Simon. I know you must be tired."

Ghost slept better knowing Soap was safe with him.

[mcklunkers]

Welcome to day 6 of random Star Wars shitposty headcanons!

I’m so sorry btw, some of these ended up kinda angst 😬

-Mandalorians have Flannel shirt energy. Like they just wear flannels in their down time. Always. Their pyjamas? Flannel. First date? Flannel. If they’re not on the battle field, they’re wearing flannel. Jango Fett wore flannel boxers for good luck. The one day he didn’t wear them Windu cut his head off. Boba now wears flannel boxers for good luck.

-Obi-Wan Kenobi gets more and more Scottish the more emotional he gets. Sometimes in council meetings they legitimately cannot understand him so they just smile and nod. It did however lead to a 13 year old Anakin learning some creative insults over the years. Everyone remembers the time Yoda caught the kids arm with a practice saber and the teen yelled “yer da sells Avon ya wrinkly green bawbag”.

-The clones drink an insane amount of caf. The problem is they all have very specific orders. The space starbucks employees hate them. One will come in and suddenly they have to make like 50 drinks. Some are fine - like Wolffe and Cody just take it black, and Echo will just get a tea. Tup just gets a hot chocolate. But then someone (looking at Fives because mans is DRaMATIC) will turn up in sunglasses and order a Venti Iced Skinny Hazlenut Macchiato, Sugar-Free syrup, extra shot, lite ice, no whip or some shit and hold everything up. That’s not even getting into Kix and the other medics (and probably Rex too tbf, my guy is tired) who order drinks with more espresso shots than should be legally allowed. Fox is banned for life or has a lifelong loyalty card and there’s no in between.

-Clones like camping. Just vibing under the stars together with crappy food and cheap tents. It’s good for team building, but also counts as training so they don’t feel guilty for it.

-After leaving the empire, Kallus really doesn’t like wearing a helmet because it reminds him of who he used to be, and he’s trying very hard to move past that point of his life. The ghost crew are super reluctant to let him on the frontline in case he gets hurt. Eventually Rex just makes him wear Gregor’s old chest plate and vambraces because his brother didn’t wear them and died, and he wouldn’t let that happen to another member of his family, regardless of who they used to be.

-Thrawn does yoga in the mornings and evenings so he can maintain his fight training schedule without pulling a muscle. He’s mad flexible. It’s very stressful on the ship cos officers will go to deliver messages and just find him in weird positions thinking. One new transfer once had to tell him about a rebel insurrection whilst the grand admiral was in the crab position. It was awkward.

-On a definitely unrelated note, Eli Vanto sucks at yoga and finds Thrawn being good at it infuriating.

-Dooku does all of his own gardening because a droid stepped on his carnations and he was not having that. (He also did not approve of Ventress’s snide “what in carnation?!” Comment when he informed her). Dooku is actually where Qui-Gon got his love for plants. He likes the way they feel in the force.

-Fenn Rau and Bo-Katan were actually pretty good friends. They’d fly around and chat shit about once a week just to relax when they were younger.

-Pre-Grogu Din Djarin always wanted a pet, but never had a way to look after them properly. So every time he was on a planet he’d go to shelters and play with the animals there to make sure they had fun at least once in their lives.

-At any given moment at least one room on a 501st ship is blasting cheese room music so that the troopers can unwind together for a bit before their next mission. It’s surprisingly effective given that they’re just dancing together.

-As a way to understand other cultures and find harmony with the force all of the Jedi learn an instrument. Yoda played the piccolo, Dooku played the flute. Qui-Gon played the bongos, Obi-Wan plays the violin. Anakin learnt the guitar, and one of the reasons he wears the glove over his prosthetic is so he can still play. But little Ahsoka? She got a wholeass drumset. She’s pretty good too, but she likes 3am to be her practice time. Quinlan is super proud that she took his advice. Anakin and Obi want to kill the kiffar on principle.

As usual, hope you enjoy my shitpost. Any thought, criticism or idea is welcome. Have a goodun lads!

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch6 it’s go time

excitable bby carson is so cute I love that kid

Dani uuuhhh being so in tune w Jamie always is so lovely. and Jamie almost being a bit scared of accepting her kindness when she’s truly hurting is so interesting like I think Dani really is her person but she still can’t fully let down all her walls around her. or tbh probably doesn’t have the emotional capacity to understand how she’s feeling and communicate that properly gah someone pls give her unending emotional support she makes my heart hurt so much

“There was an odd expression on her face that Dani couldn’t place” that’s love babey (i feel like there are a lot of moments like this lol I love seeing this all from Dani’s POV)

oof Dani trying to figure out where she’d ‘misstepped’ bc of a look Karen gave her god she doesn’t deserve this

the way she can make Dani have a fucking panic attack just by being near her ummmmmm I hate her. like i can’t even comment on this bit bc I’m mostly just trying to read it really fast and not reflect too hard

ah sweet Jamie

hmmmm is this the moment Dani falls in love with Jamie please it’s so sweet and casual and literally just Jamie being herself and caring about Dani with her whole heart. no wonder. also the contrast of this with her realising as an adult is beautiful. Dani u poor  little confused gay angel

the dirty paperback a staple of all good plotlines

dsfjhdfkjghkjfh when Dani straddles her and Jamie just fucking freezes oh my god this part makes me laugh so much you poor little lesbian

““As you wish,” Jamie said softly.” oh god oh no not the princess bride rn this whole bit is too soft

“Twenty-four hours alone with Jamie in her house, and it was like Dani had suddenly forgotten what the emptiness of it felt like.” oof just. Jamie is her home I can’t even think about that concept too hard it is too beautiful and all-encompassing

Milkshake Monday is so cute I’m gonna make a milkshake on Monday in honour of the O’Mara/Clayton/Taylor gang

Eddie’s “he rested his hand oddly on the ground between them, his palm up and hands loose“ is giving me flashbacks to the only date I ever went on with a man  please not this move

aww poor Jamie is jealous (and probably very sadly realising she will never get to be where Eddie is with the handholding and blossoming relationship ouch) (this is also giving me flashbacks stop living inside my brain)

oh my god Jamie sprinting away from David w the paperback i’m dying

aww lil D&D bebes

dfgdjfh “I cast: slap you in the face.” i think he has some points

Eddie and his endless sheets of notes and plans is actually super cute.

Carson wanting to be evil there is somethin to be said abt queer-coded villians and that is that I love them and the gravitational forces they apply to baby gays

god the sibling banter in this is so perfect this is exactly how this wld have gone down w me n my siblings

lmao eddie really is in his element this is so good

god Jamie just... so anxiously awaiting for the only source of stability she’s ever had in her life to return I am emotional

teeny baby mikey. Jamie’s parents are the fucking worst for the ways they treated their kids but I’m so glad Nan can be here for them

why is... jamie so upset?? is this like. it kinda puts the nail in the coffin of the idea of her family being whole again?? is it just because Jamie wasn’t told what’s happening and she feels out of control?? let me see inside ur brain jamie u poor confused angry little bird

ugh now I am thinking about the idea of family and building ur own and getting to choose the people that mean the most to you and it sucks that for some people the families they were born into can’t be that and this is too much for a Sunday afternoon

oh she’s upset by the change of it all (tho like... that’s probably just the easiest part to talk about rn I’m sure it’s a lot of complicated emotions)

the foreshadowing of “I’ll be the one to take care of him”

"She isn't going to just up and leave you alone with a baby, Jamie." genuinely too fragile for this rn

fuck i can just picture extremely sullen teenage Jamie with feelings too big to process properly trying to just survive and sweet understanding Dani giving her a really gentle place to kind of... reflect a bit and work through them. I am. also having feelings too big to process properly. i love that Nan knows Dani is this for her too and probably sent her after her for that exact reason

hhhmnngfhgh washing her hands for her the intricate rituals of it all

“Can just call him ‘Bawbag’ and be done with it.” jesus christ Jamie sdkjfhdkjdghk I am wheezing

Dani giving Mikey the nickname literally means everything to meeeeeeee

Dani picking up pamphlets for Ed and Jamie too is so cute

lmao Dani is like. a boy??? asking me to homecoming???? panic time

Roger’s lil crush on Jamie is so funny bro ur barking up the wrong tree... in the wrong forest... in the wrong hemisphere... lost in space somewhere

Jamie getting to grow her own flowers is so wonderful and Dani recognising this is where she’s the most fulfilled is so lovely (and I finally know where the pressed morning glory from the box is yus)

god Karen is so relentlessly mean to Dani why are u like this

Jesus christ the thought of Dani asking Nan what sodomy is. the heartattack she wld have

woof this like subtle ‘you’ll never be accepted bc it’s just not right’ vibe from Karen in this whole conversation w Judy this is tooooo familiar. no wonder she just keeps repressing it all (should i be using this fic to process my own life probably not)

Jamie taking them to an outdoor picture theatre because Dani mentioned wanting to go one time ow my heart. this is basically their first date no?? flip that’s cute. oh god a horror movie tho sdkjfhdjf Jamie

i think there’s such an interesting thing of Dani and Jamie just... falling into each other in this really uneventful way and their whole relationship being this really full thing without a big realisation of ‘this is what love/romance is’ and is probably half the reason Dani isn’t really able to name it as that?? like i love it and i think it’s so sweet but I wonder if Jamie was ever able to actually say something if that would have finally tipped her tiny lil repressed brain over into realisation???

this whole bit is so sweetly innocent I love it

another day 3 days another emotional rollercoaster of a chapter gbless

[scapegrace74-blog]

Combat Baby

A/N  If I’m going to post a Jamie POV chapter, it’s only fair that I post a Claire POV chapter as well, right?  This is a pre-quel to the Metric Universe, set shortly before The Beginning.  All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

The emotional whiplash made her ears buzz with static.  This morning, she had been Claire Beauchamp, A&E nurse and girlfriend of Frank Randall.  Tonight, she was Claire Beauchamp, unemployed homewrecker.

More than the violent fracture that sundered her relationship into two (or was it three?) crippled pieces, more than the indignity of having her personal drama exposed to the hospital administrators, even more than finding herself suddenly homeless with a cheque for four weeks’ severance lying wrinkled in the pocket of her purse, the cut that stung the most was her utter lack of judgment.  How could she have been so blindly misled?

She’d met Frank at work.  He was a gifted surgeon at University College Hospital, urbane and grounded in a way that promised to anchor her in an adulthood that still fit like a borrowed shoe.  His pursuit felt like a badge of merit and an easy detour around the chaotic dating scene her fellow twenty-somethings frequented.  Within three weeks they were sleeping together, and only two months later she was moving the three boxes and two suitcases that represented the entirety of her worldly possessions into his Fitzrovia flat.  It had been easy.  It had been comfortable.  It had been an utter sham.

Sleeping off a series of night shifts in the skim milk light flooding their king-sized bed, she’d woken to the sound of a key in the door.  Frank was away, attending one of the medical symposiums at which he was frequently asked to present.  She barely had time to sit up in the luxurious linens before a small, dark-haired woman flew into the room.

“Where is he?” the intruder yelled.

“I beg your pardon?” Claire replied, pulling the duvet towards her neck defensively.  “I don’t... get out of my flat!  At once!”

“Your flat?”  The woman cackled like this was the best joke she’d ever heard, all while opening the doors to the closet, peering into the ensuite bathroom.  “Your flat?!  This flat than doesn’t belong to you any more than that bastard does.  You’ve got a nerve, you fucking whore!”

“I... there’s been some mistake.  You need to leave.  I don’t know who you think I am, but I can assure you this is my home.  I live here with my boyfriend...”

“Frank Randall,” the woman interrupted with a cruel twist of her lips. “You selfish, stupid girl, you have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

Claire could feel her body start to shake, an earthquake of realization spreading from her limbs to her brain.  She’d never met this woman before, but she had one thing right: she was a very selfish, stupid girl.

The story that emerged had the sordid intricacy of a soap opera.  The woman, Amelia Randall, had been married to Frank for nearly ten years.  They’d met at Oxford.  When his job took him to London, she’d stayed behind in Oxfordshire, where Frank visited as often as his brilliant career allowed.   Amelia had known he was unfaithful, of course, and had chosen to remain married to him, dishonourable man that he was.  But when word reached her that he was actually living with one of his young mistresses, an invisible line had been crossed.  

“I don’t care for my own sake.  He can fuck whoever he wants.  But I have children to think of, and I’ll be damned if you get your claws on their inheritance...”

Children.  Frank had children.  Small people who looked forward to his visits, briefcase stuffed with toys or special treats.  Little rosebud lips that called him Daddy.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked into the duvet, now twisted tightly in her fists as she rocked senseless back and forth.  “I didn’t know.  I’m so sorry.”

***

She had no recollection of how she came to be at the hospital.  There was a swirling black fog that threatened to pull her down into a hellscape that lived in the corners of her memory.  It sucked the air from her throat and replaced it with burning acid, the taste of bile painting the back of her tongue.

She had one coherent thought - she wasn’t going quietly.  If the perfect world she had assembled turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors, then she was laying waste to it with her own hands.

Frank’s car, a vintage burgundy Aston Martin, was parked in his reserved space in the doctor’s lot.  Popping open the boot, she grabbed the tyre iron, and then she began to swing.  She didn’t stop until two security guards dragged her away, her feet scuffing and kicking the floor and every vulgar word in her extensive vocabulary echoing off the concrete ceiling of the car-park.

***

It took the head nurse less than thirty minutes to obtain and print her letter of severance.  In that same time Claire slowly drifted back into herself.  She was appalled at her actions, but the damage was done.  There was a small kernel of satisfaction in imagining Frank’s face when he caught sight of his beloved car.

Leaving the hospital, she wandered aimlessly amidst the bright bustle of London in springtime.  She found herself at the London Zoo.  Sitting on a bench watching the lions pace relentlessly in their fabricated environment, she finally broke down.  She sobbed bitterly until her brow felt like iron and her guts like sand.  

Eventually, she opened her phone and scrolled through her contacts.  She had a small circle of acquaintance in London, but they all knew Frank.  Her family was all dead.  Childhood friends were scattered about the globe.  She hesitated over one name: Geillis Duncan.  They had been good friends in nursing school, but hadn’t kept in touch over the past two years.  Geillis had never met Frank.  She was a feisty and outspoken Scot with a personality as large as her carefully disguised generous heart.  Claire closed her eyes and dialed.

***

“Ye ken ye can stay as long as ye need, Claire.  The spare room is yers.”

She’d returned to Frank’s flat only long enough to stuff her clothes and a few precious objects into her suitcases, then taken the Tube to Spittalfields, a gritty neighbourhood as far from Fitzrovia as the moon.  Geillis had welcomed her with open arms and a full bottle of whisky, which they were steadily emptying as Claire spilled her story all over the well-worn pine floors.

“Thanks, Geil, but it’s just for a few days.  Just until I figure out what to do with myself.”  She was already slurring her words, the combination of lack of sleep, no food and strong liquor hitting her square between her golden eyes.

“Nae rush.  I cannae believe ye took an iron tae that bawbag’s car, ye wee fierce thing.  I wouldna want tae fight you.”

They lapsed into silence.  Claire’s mind was a rushing torrent, with images and thoughts slipping from view before she could grasp onto them.  She kept hearing Amelia Randall’s voice, laced with pity.  You selfish, stupid girl.  She’d been so certain she knew who she was, but now everything was tainted with doubt.  It would take time and distance to find herself again; to excavate down to her bones, where everything was true.  She would throw her youthful self on the pyre of redemption, and stand by while it burned.  It was what she deserved.

“I know what I’m going to do,” she announced out loud, half-forgetting Geillis sat nearby.

“Wha’s that, hen?” her friend asked.

“I’m going to volunteer.  As a combat nurse.  In Afghanistan.”

[ciaomichaella]

Last night at @curlsandiego curling league I got to channel my inner @evemuirhead of @team_muirhead Not only did I wear my @bawbagsunderwear I’m also wearing my #ContCup2019 jersey. It was neat to see #EveMuirhead be the hero of Vegas, clinching the win for Team World especially after hip surgery. I knew I had to get #Bawbags underwear after seeing #TeamMuirhead post about it and finding out they support the fight against #cancer Not gonna lie, I had to put on my @teamniklasedin @dynastycurling hoodie on after this pic was taken though. It’s cold and my Team Edin hoodie has been my Saturday uniform since I got it. I wish I could order the new Team Edin hoodies, but it seems they’ll never be sold. . . I also got to channel my inner @saramcmanus vice of @teamhasselborg last night. It was my first time playing vice for the entire game and we won! Michael, the youngest member of the club and a chatty old soul, started noticing and commenting that if I scream or yelp while delivering a rock, it’s gonna be a good shot and was making calls like a TSN/Sportsnet commentator 😂 The funny thing was, he was actually mostly right especially towards the later ends. The ice was kinda wonky and kept falling a certain way so it was mostly luck that I was managing to pull off the good shots I was making, but I’ll take it. I look forward to the day when I can consistently do takeouts, those are fun when I nail them. One day I hope to actually have a draw game too haha. I suck at drawing and totally better at making granite fly. . . Too bad I pulled my left quad muscle getting out of the car while complaining about how much my right butt cheeks hurt from curling 😂😭 That reminds me, I need to continue doing my PT exercises. . . 🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪 #fangirlcurling #growththegame #growthesport #wintersports #sports #curling #sweep #curlsandiego #curlingrocks #sandiego #hurryhard #ilovecurling #itsalotharderthanitlooks #HardlineNation #isweptwithyourwife 🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪🥌💙💛🇸🇪 (at Curl San Diego) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4tA-TbHVRf/?igshid=3hvzvfd7q8mb

[pagesoflauren]

A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack x reader AU) - Part 6

tagging: @albionscastle

Part 5 Masterlist

On Saturday, Y/N’s friends come in in a cacophony of college students, startling both Jack and Socks when Y/N lets them in. They’re all excited to meet him, commenting on how cold his hands are and how pale he is. They wait for her as she says goodbye to Jack in the house.

“Be safe,” he says, “Make sure they’re driving in the speed limit.” “Jack, you don’t drive within the speed limit.” “I know, but I’ve had years of experience. Humans suck at driving.” “Hey!” “It’s just a fact of life, my love,” he says, chuckling at her offended expression, “Message me when you get there.” “I will. I love you,” she says. “I love you, too,” he replies, leaning down to kiss her. They’re holding each other tightly when there’s something trying to squeeze between their feet. They look down and find Socks curling himself in and out, refusing to be forgotten. “I love you, too, Socks,” she says, leaning down to scratch his head before making a fist. He bumps his head against it. “You behave for Jack okay?” “Yeah, right,” Jack scoffs. Y/N pulls him in for another kiss and grabs her bag, “I’ll see you both tonight.”

The car ride to Y/N’s town is loud and fun, the four friends belting out lyrics and Y/N sending videos of them to Jack. George is driving, while Y/N sits in the passenger’s side and Lily and Maeve sit in the back.

Is he driving in the speed limit?

He is, hypocrite.

I resent that statement

Resent it all you want, it’s true.

Oh hush, you.

They stop by Y/N’s parents’ house, greeting them before dropping Y/N off at Mrs. Hollingberry’s house down the street. “We’ll be at the boulevard when you’re done. Text us when you’re ready, love.” They all wish her luck before they drive away and leave her at the front door.

Y/N lifts her fist to knock, when the door opens before she can.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Hollingberry smiles. She’s a older woman, maybe around her forties that used to watch after Y/N when her parents went out some evenings. She’d always give her sweets before she left and read her bedtime stories. “You’ve grown so much,” she cries, holding her hand over her chest, “I still remember that little girl I used to look after.” “Hi, Mrs. Hollingberry,” Y/N smiles, feeling sentimental as well. They hug each other tightly before pulling away. “What brings you over here?” “I wanted to ask you some questions.” “Of course,” she says, stepping aside to let her in. Y/N walks into the house. She sees an old couch that looks like it’s from the 50s and dark curtains that shield the sun from coming in. They sit together and Y/N declines the cup of tea she’s offered. “Is this about the boy you came with a few months ago?” “Huh?” “Your boyfriend.” “You…you saw?” “Yes, dear. I saw you two walking at night. The vampire.” “Well, that’s not why I’m here. Mrs. Hollingberry, I think you might have some information that might be useful to me.” “About...?” “His friend. Thomas? Well, what I’m trying to ask is, do you know a Poppy? Poppy Hollingberry.” “Yes. She lived with me for a few decades before your Jack and Thomas came along.” “You know Jack?” “She told me about him when she left to live with them. We used to write all the time.” “Do you still talk to her?” Y/N asks eagerly. “I don’t, unfortunately. I…” she pauses, her eyes glistening with tears, “I was so heartbroken when she left. She was like a daughter to me. And, you know, when your children want to move out you let them. I just never thought she’d go so far and stop talking.” “Jack says Thomas stopped talking to him too. I’m trying to find them, maybe reunite Jack with him. And you can come too, if you’d like.” “Oh, no love, I couldn’t. You both enjoy your vacation when you do go. I’ll go on my own time.” “Oh, okay. But, is there any information you can tell me about Poppy?” “I’ve got the last letter she sent me,” Mrs. Hollingberry says, standing up and disappearing into another room. Y/N hears shuffling before she’s back in front of her. “Here’s the return address,” she says, pointing to the address in the top left corner of the envelope.

It’s to an apartment in Liechtenstein, and Y/N deflates a bit. The last time Jack talked to Thomas, they were already in Brussels. She decides it’s a good lead, though. They’re bound of have records of previous tenants from the last thirty years at the very least. She takes a picture of the address on her phone.

“Thank you,” Y/N smiles, “It was so great to see you.” “You too, dear. Oh,” Mrs. Hollingberry says, disappearing and returning almost within the same second. She’s smiling nostalgically as she presses something into Y/N’s hand. When she looks down, it’s her favorite candy. “For old times’ sake.” “Thank you,” Y/N smiles. “Take care, I hope you find them,” she says, kissing Y/N’s forehead. “I hope so too. I’ll let you know if I find anything!”

They exchange another hug and Y/N is on her way, walking down the street to meet her friends. She pulls at the wrapper of the candy and eats on her way there.

Jack sat on the couch as Socks perched himself on the coffee table. Y/N was right; having a green wall did bring a lot of brightness and personality into the room, but now that she wasn’t there it wasn’t the same. He figured he could turn off the lights since neither he nor Socks really needs the lights, but when he flips the switch he flips it right back, not liking how dark it is.

Somehow he ends up on the floor next to Socks who was playing with a ball with a bell in it. “What should we do today, mate?” Jack asks the feline. The jingling of the bell stops suddenly and Jack tilts his head back, making his view of Socks upside down. They blink at each other for a moment before Socks gets up and walks away.

“Wait come back, where ya going?” he says, sitting up and watching as Socks goes up the stairs. He groans as he gets up to follow him, finding him meowing outside the closed door of Y/N’s office. He begins scratching at the door and Jack deflates a little. He misses her.

“Aye, mate, she’s not in there,” Jack explains, opening the door to show the empty room. They had furnished it with a desk and couch. When it was night time, Jack had taken out the wood on the window and left the curtains so that Y/N could let natural light in if she wanted. He feels an ache in his chest at how empty and boring the house feels without her. Socks inspects the room, walking about the couch and even circling the leg space under the desk before coming out.

“Told ya,” he sighs, “C’mon, let’s go downstairs.”

Jack fills Socks’ water and food bowls before sitting on the couch again. He checks his phone and sees a few pictures that Y/N (his only contact besides his boss and a few coworkers) sent him of her lunch and herself walking with her friends. It’s almost embarrassing how much he misses her when she’s out, but he can’t help it. He sighs, shaking the thoughts from his head and turning on the TV. The only thing that peaks his interest is the Jeremy Kyle show, so he watches that.

Y/N hears shouting as she approaches the front door in the evening after she and her friends left her hometown. She’s carrying a bag of McDonald’s, her face twisting up in confusion. Why is he yelling? she thinks, What could Socks possibly have done this time?

When she opens the door, the words become more clear, “AYE, YE FUCKIN’ ZOUNDERKITE, YA AHR THE FUCKIN’ FATHER DON’T BE DAFT!”

Socks is playing with the same ball he was playing with in the morning, acting as if this is a normal occurrence. She steps in a little further and sees him standing in front of the TV watching the Jeremy Kyle show of all things. The man who the woman claims to be the father says something else and Jack nearly explodes.

“YER BUM’S OOT THE WINDAE, YE FUCKIN’ BAMPOT!” he says, waving his arm in annoyance. He turns to Socks, “Can ye believe this fuckin’ beardsplitter? Absolute bawbag!”

There’s a moment of tension when the results come in and Jeremy reads over the sheet of paper in his hands.

“Hurry up and bitch the pot, will ya?!” Jack says impatiently.

“Randy…” he says, pausing for effect, “According to these results, you…are the father.”

“OOH SEE YA PROPER WALLAPER, ‘F YE WEREN’T TOO BUSY TOT-HUNTIN’ YA WOULD’VE KNOWN! AWA’ N’ BILE YER HEAD, YOU FUCKIN’ ROASTER.”

He’s waving his arms around like a madman, even going as far as gripping the sides of the TV and shaking it as much as he can while it’s mounted to the wall, and shouting all these words Y/N can’t understand. She can’t hold it in anymore as she snorts with laughter, clutching her stomach and putting down the McDonald’s bag so that she doesn’t drop it. This catches Jack’s attention. When she sees his face, he’s scowling from the TV show before he realizes it’s her and his face suddenly softens.

“Oh, love,” he says, a little embarrassed, “I, uh…”—he clears his throat—“How was your day did you have a good time?”

She’s still laughing, finding herself needing to sit on the floor because she just can’t stand anymore. Socks trots happily to her, fluffy fur bouncing as he approaches her and he purrs happily as he nudges her arm.

“Hi, baby,” she coos to him through her laughter, holding her fist out for him to bump with his head. After he does, she scratches behind his ears as her laughter dies down. “Oh man,” she sighs, wiping away some tears that built up in her eyes from laughing so hard, “and I was so worried you’d be bored without me.” “Well, I was,” he explains bashfully, “Then I just turned on the TV and found this show and…dunno,” he shrugs, “Got too into it I guess.” “That you did, my love,” she laughs, standing up to kiss him. He holds her tightly, as if he hadn’t seen her in days and presses his lips to hers as if it’s all he’s been waiting to do (which speaks to how he felt about today, but he’d never tell her that). “I missed you,” he says. “I miss you, too,” she giggles, “What was all that you were saying earlier?” “What?” “Like…z-zoun-zounder…kite?” she asks, turning to grab her fast food bag before Socks gets into it. “Oh,” he says as he scratches his head, “It’s uh…it’s Victorian slang. S’how we used to talk back in my day.” “‘Back in my day’?” she laughs loudly again. “Hey! S’true!” “What does that even mean?” “Zounderkite?” Y/N nods. “It means idiot.” “Why can’t you just say idiot?” “I dunno, s’just a habit quit comin’ after me, woman!” he says defensively, pouting and crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Okay, okay,” she continues laughing, kissing his cheek, “It’s fine, I like it. It’s…charming.” “You’re just saying that.” “I’m not! S’not everyday I get to hear how people talked in ancient times,” she quips as she walks to the dining table to eat. “Oi!”

Y/N and Jack spent their Sunday organizing the basement, making room for some more of Y/N’s things and setting aside some things Jack could sell to the local museums and collectors.

“What’s this?” Y/N asks, lugging a a large cardboard box onto a nearby table. It’s not labeled, but Jack knows exactly what it is. “Oh,” he says, walking over and pulling the flaps to reveal the contents. Y/N has to get on her toes to see into the box. It’s filled with pictures and some old clothes. Y/N grabs a little cap, something that looks like it can fit a small child. “This is…” Jack tries to find the word, “It’s my childhood.”

Y/N turns the cap in her hands then looks at Jack, suddenly understanding.

“I snuck back into the house after my parents turned me away,” he explains, “It was a few years later, so they had aged a bit. I went into my room and found it as it was when I left. It was messy beyond belief, clothes strewn about, but I just grabbed some things. Here.”

Jack shuffles through the box, finding an old black and white photo of a group of children.

“This was Channelkirk. There’s me,” he points to a boy standing in the front wearing the same cap Y/N is holding, “and there’s Thomas.” He points to the boy on his left. “Can I?” she asks, holding her hand out. He gently places the photo in her hands, and she’s careful to not grip it too tightly. She looks closely at young Jack, squinting her eyes to try and make out his features in the grainy photo. His hair is neatly combed and hidden in the cap, he’s wearing a long sleeve white button down and knee-length trousers with suspenders and long socks. She can just make out his straight nose and slightly downturned eyes. “Your face is so round here,” she says, smiling. “Well, here,” he says, going through the box again, “look at this.”

It’s a photo of baby Jack in a white christening gown. It looks like they perched him on a stool so that the long length of the garment was easy to see in the photo.

“Oh my god, you’re such a cute baby,” she gushes. “What are you talking about you can barely see my face,” he laughs. “Doesn’t matter,” she waves him off. “I grabbed this too,” he says, pulling out a pale yellow knitted blanket, “This was my baby blanket.”

It’s quite big, as if it could’ve been laid out on the floor for him to crawl about in the living room of the house.

“Aww,” she coos, “my blanket was yellow too! We were meant to be,” she says, her voice slightly dripping with sarcasm. They both laugh as they feel the soft material of the blanket, Jack’s eyes welling up with tears.

“We should wash this,” Y/N says, “and we can use it on the bed. Like for keeping your feet warm.”

He feels a light feeling in his chest at the fact that she wants to incorporate something from his very distant past into their new home, one she’s changed in many more ways than just paint and furniture.

“Okay,” he agrees easily.

He watches as she goes through the box again, pulling out a smaller photo of Jack when he was a teenager. He looks very much like the Jack she sees next to her, just without the beard and still some roundness on his face. “How old are you here?” “About 16. I was graduating high school when we took that photo.” “I didn’t know your hair was curly,” she says, reaching up and running her hands through the blonde locks on his head. “It curls when I let it grow out.” “It’s adorable,” she says, smiling.

They put away the photos and the cap, Y/N folding the blanket and carrying it to the laundry machine upstairs. Jack goes into the kitchen to start making dinner for Y/N when he hears the beeping sounds of the laundry machine as she presses the buttons and changes the settings. Since buying the new washer and dryer, Jack has let Y/N put everything in the laundry as he folds and hangs everything when all is done. He’s chopping vegetables when he hears a thud and a quiet, “ow!”

He quickly puts everything down, stopping what he’s doing and rushing over to the stairs. Y/N’s limping and hissing at the pain in her ankle. Socks is standing there, watching her. He surveys the situation before turning his attention to his cat, “You. Explain.” Socks just stares and Y/N reaches out to lean her weight on the banister. “Jack, he’s a cat.” “Well, what happened?” he says, he voice dripping with worry. “I was coming down the stairs,” she stops when she puts a little too much weight on her injured ankle, ”I was coming down the stairs and Socks kinda ran next to me and I just lost my footing. I think I twisted my ankle.” “What?” he asks, still confused and growing more and more concerned. He steps closer to her, reaching his hands out to grab her but not knowing what to do to help, “Wait what does that mean, should I take you to the hospital?” “No, it’s not that serious.” “‘NOT THAT SERIOUS’?” he bursts incredulously, “Y/N you twisted something, that sounds really serious to me!” “Jack, please—“ “You’re human, you’re so fragile! Are you sure it’s not broken? What if it’s broken!?” “It’s not broken, Jack—“ “HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” “Because I’m not screaming in pain. Jack, I really just need to sit down and put some ice on it.”

He immediately scoops her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom and gently setting her down on the blankets. He turns to get her some ice when he stops suddenly. “What are you doing?” he asks, watching her move the pillows around. “I need to prop my foot up,” she explains. “No, no, no, no,” he says, “I’ll do it.” “Jack I can handle it—“ “Shhhh!!!” he says stubbornly, waving his hand in an attempt to silence her. He grabs the pillow from her, gently lifting her ankle up and placing the pillow under it. He sets her foot back down. “Are you comfortable?” “Yes.” “Do you need anything else?” “Ice, please.” “Right.”

He’s gone and back in a few seconds, a large ziplock of crushed ice in his hand. “Do I just…? Do I just put it on?” “Yes. Well, don’t just drop it on my ankle, though.” “No! No, of course not,” he says, slowly lowering the ice onto her ankle. It’s visibly swollen compared to the other one and he almost winces, “My poor lass.” “Jack, I’ll be fine tomorrow—“ “No, no, you’re not walking for a week, lass.” “Jack please, I’ve twisted my ankle before, I’ve usually been fine the next day.” Just then, Socks hops onto the bed, eying the bag of ice curiously. “Oi, you little shit, you’re the reason she’s injured, sod off!”

Socks pays him no mind, sniffing at the ziplock before licking at the condensation. He does this for a few seconds before he suddenly pulls back, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. He’s like that for a moment before going back to normal. “He got a brain freeze,” Y/N giggles. “Quit it,” Jack gripes, scooping him up and putting him on the floor, “Never listen to me, you.” “Jack?” “Yes darling?” he says, his tone immediately softening. “I’m hungry.” “Right, I’ll make you dinner and be right up with that.”

Downstairs, Jack resumes making Y/N’s dinner when he hears a meow. He turns toward the direction of it, finding Socks sitting by his food bowl expectantly. “No,” Jack says, pointing an accusing finger at the feline, “You are not getting food for fifteen minutes. That’ll teach you.” As if cats had a sense of time, though. Socks continues meowing indignantly, even going as far as pawing at Jack’s leg and meowing as if he were apologizing. Jack knows if he looks down he’ll break, feed him and give him all the scratches he wants, so he adverts his eyes to anywhere but the floor.

When Jack is done cooking, he cleans up and brings the food up when it’s cooled down to the perfect temperature for eating. Y/N is on her phone in the dim light of the bedside lamp and Jack turns on the ceiling light when he walks in to bring more brightness into the room. “Here you are, love,” he says, setting a plate of the chicken and rice dish he made with the leftover chicken. He carefully sits on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard and draping his arm over her shoulder. “You’re really stepping up your game, aren’t you?” she laughs. “All I do when you’re out with your friends is watch cooking shows and Jeremy Kyle.” “Ah, yes, your new favorite.” “How can you not like it?! It’s so dramatic and shocking!” “Jack, I’m pretty sure part of it is scripted.” “No way!” he says naively, “That’s like saying reality TV isn’t reality!” “It’s not though!” she laughs, “They script it to ramp up the drama and get more views, dude.” “Hmph. Back in my day they never pulled such bullshit like that.” “Did you watch 90s reality TV?” “Mostly MTV when it was actually MTV and not that 16 and Pregnant shite.”

Y/N opens her mouth to say something when Socks meows at the door. Jack rolls his eyes at him. “Oi what did I tell you?” “What did you tell him?” Y/N asks as Socks trots over and hops onto the bed. He sits down and points his gaze at Y/N. “Jack,” Y/N says accusingly. “What, I just told him I wasn’t gonna feed him for fifteen minutes!” “What in the world—“ “He’s the reason your ankle’s all banged up, I had to punish him!” “Jack, he’s a cat.” Meow. “You need to be disciplined, mate. What you did was wrong.” “Jack, he’s a cat,” Y/N repeats, letting a chuckle escape, “Go feed him, jeez.” “Fine,” he says stubbornly, getting up, “his fifteen minutes was done anyway.” He gets up and heads downstairs, Socks trailing after him happily.

When they come back upstairs, Jack moves the blanket from the washer to the dryer before going back into the bedroom to find Socks on the bed purring at the attention Y/N is giving him. “Y/N!” he gasps offendedly. “What?” she laughs, “what’s wrong?” “He’s the one who injured you!” “Jack, let it go, it’s fine. I told you, I’m gonna be fine tomorrow.”

He rolls his eyes and maneuvers onto the bed, Socks making room for him by climbing into Y/N’s lap. She’s petting him when Jack feels a nudge on his hand. He looks over and meets Socks’ green eyes. “No. You’re not getting any scratches from me.” Meow. “I said no.” “Aww, poor baby,” Y/N coos, cuddling the cat closer to her and scratching his head. Jack’s eyes narrow at Socks and he stares back. It’s as if he’s saying I won. “Jack stop glaring at your cat.” “He’s mocking me!” “Jack, he’s a cat,” she tells him for the fourth time that day. “Fine,” he says, adverting his eyes and staring at the navy blue wall opposite them. “Ungrateful cat. I’m the one who took you in and you’re kissing up to my girlfriend.” “I can’t help it, I’m just so lovable,” Y/N jokes. When Jack doesn’t laugh, she places a hand on his arm, “Hey.” He looks to her immediately, in case she might need something. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He wraps his arms around her, bringing her into his chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always take care of you, love.”

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a bit of a filler, something I wrote to relieve some stress :D I hope you liked it!