#this is not an ad I’m just fucking tired of being verbally abused by people who wait til the last second for everything

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

Americans who file for tax refunds: if you haven’t already,

🚨MAKE A NEW IRS ACCOUNT 🚨

you need a verified ID.me account to file your taxes, even if you “have a guy” or “use the software” you still need to be verified first.

this coming tax season is the first year that it will be mandatory, and if you wait til everyone has their W-2s and gets blindsided by this newfangled technology, you will experience wait queues in excess of twenty hours for a video verification. That’s how it was last year, and it wasn’t even mandatory yet.

For non-video verification, a selfie is required and biometric data is stored for 36 months. If you don’t like that, opt for video verification, no biometric data will be stored.

Again, wait queues are unbelievable during tax season.

Get it done NOW.

[unoriginalmess]

Untitled Feralnette Fic Ch. 1

Hiya there anyone who happens upon this first chapter of this fic. I would like to start out by saying that this is my first fanfic ever. I've been wanting to write a fic for the miraculous fandom for a while but I haven't had any inspiration until I stumbled upon this glorious AU created by @bigfatbreak. I highly suggest checking out all of their posts about this au because they are hilarious and genius and about 100 other amazing adjectives that could be used to describe them and their posts. Anyways enough with my rant and let's get on with the fic. ⚠️Slight angst⚠️ ⚠️Swearing⚠️

--------

When Marinette got home after her and Luka's breakup, all she could do was cry. She wanted to be with him, but her Ladybug duties came first. If lying is a deal breaker for him, then maybe it was best that they ended it now while their relationship was still in its early stages. Still, she couldn't help but feel the loss of her first relationship. She ended up crying for a whole entire day. She just hoped that Hawkmoth(or Shadowmoth or whatever the fuck he wanted to be referred to as this week) wasn't feeling particularly akuma-y today, because she didn't know if she could bottle up all these feelings, even though the world is relying on her ability to do so.

Ugggghhh!! It has been exhausting having to be "happy and perfect Marinette" and "happy and perfect Ladybug" All. The. Time. She's also pretty sure that Hawkmoth had discovered the similarities in her personality as Marinette to Ladybug, and that's why she's been targeted by multiple akumas lately. She has had to have her emotions under control even more than usual. If only there was a way to get Hawkmoth to stop targeting her. Maybe she should just not give a fuck anymore. Haha as if! It couldn't be that easy! Could it?

The more she thinks about it the more it starts to make sense. If she just let herself go completely crazy as Marinette, she would be killing like 10 birds with one stone. She would get hawkmoth off of her trail, she wouldn't have to deal with having to hide her emotions all of the time, she wouldn't have to deal with the added stress of maintaining her perfect persona, she wouldn't have to deal with the stress of Lila's lies taking her friends away if she didn't have friends in the first place, and so much more stress would be taken off of her plate! It was perfect! It might hurt a little at first, but it's for the best in the end. She spent that night planning out her outfit for tomorrow, doing her homework, and going to sleep knowing that, in the morning, François Dupont isn't gonna know what hit them.

....

Adrien Agreste had been having a rough week. He had been abandoned on patrol by ladybug, been broken up with by his girlfriend, and was feeling completely and utterly alone. He knows that his lady has been feeling overwhelmed by her guardian duties lately, and that he 100% deserved that verbal lasting that kagami had given him but he couldn't help but feel this way. He was also feeling guilty about lying to kagami and leading her on for so long. After she broke up with him he took some time to assess his feelings for her and realized that he had more of an admiration for her than an infatuation. He definitely didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him. She told him that she LOVED HIM, and he was so distracted (blinded) by ladybug that he didn't even process her confession. So, he was looking forward to Sunday morning. He cleared his schedule and on that beautiful Sunday morning, he did what he is only allowed to do on very rare occasions: sleep in. Or at least... thats what he had planned on doing.

When Nathalie had knocked on his door that morning Adrien was not in a good mood. He vaguely heard her say something about father wanting him downstairs in some amount of time for something involving a business partners child and some other robotic sounding words that his half asleep brain couldn't process completely.

"I have a cleared schedule this morning, Nathalie. What could father possibly want me for that is more important than my precious sleep?" He asked snappily.

"Your father wants you downstairs to welcome the new guest that will be living in the house for the rest of the school year. You have 15 minutes to make yourself look presentable and I suggest leaving the attitude upstairs," she half informed/half reprimanded him. As she walked away, Adrien reluctantly rose from his nice warm bed and went to go get ready with only one thought racing through his mind: Who could possibly be staying with them?

....

Felix Culpa was not looking forward to living at the Agreste mansion for the rest of the school year, but for their parents' sake they would do what they had to. It wasn't all for their parents either, they were also concerned about the strange "dissapearance" of Emilie (who was his aunt in all ways except blood relation) and about the treatment of Adrien since said "disappearance".

You see, Felix Culpa is the heir to the Culpa Fabric Empire. The Culpas have been the sole fabric supplier of the Agreste brand since the very beginning. Felix's mom Diana was best friends with Emilie since their college days. Diana and Emilie made the deal with the two brands because as best friends who are both involved in the same industry, it just made sense to have a business relationship with each other. Diana never really cared for Gabriel as a person, but she could tell that he loved Emilie more than anyone else in the world so she could tolerate him for the sake of her best friend.

When Emilie went missing, Diana was absolutely devastated and tried anything she could to find her. She invested in missing person ads as large as billboards, organized search teams, tried to aid the police in their search for her in any way she could, but there was no leads, no legitimate calls to the number on the billboards, and the search team came up empty handed. While she was doing all of this to try to find her, she couldn't help but be furious over the fact that Gabriel was doing nothing to help in the search. All he did was hole himself up in his oversized mansion and call it a day.

The last straw for Diana was when Gabriel tried to use the "grieving my wife" excuse to try to abuse their business arrangement. That day, she told him that the Culpa brand would no longer be associated with the Agreste brand and that after the new collection is released, he would need to find a new fabric supplier. She knew that the Agreste brand would take a huge hit from having sub-par fabric, but she never thought that Gabriel would try to make up for that fact by using Adrien as a walking mannequin and locking him up in the desolate prison that he calls a home. As soon as she realized that he was doing this she scrambled to find a solution.

That is how Felix ended up here, standing in front of the mansion they would be living in for the next 9 months in exchange for Gabriel getting back into the Culpa brand's good graces. Don't get them wrong, they were excited about being able to be in Paris, home of the most innovative fashion pieces in the world, and about being able to see their honorary cousin Adrien (who wasn't half bad to be around despite him having no backbone whatsoever when it came to anything involving his father) but dealing with Mr. Agreste was definitely one of the low points of this arrangement.

They decided to just get it over with and knocked on the door. It was opened by the man that their cousin affectionately referred to as Gorilla. They nodded a thank you to the man, remembering that he was a man of few words, and proceeded to the bottom of the staircase. Mr. Agreste stood at the top with a very tired looking Adrien a few steps down. Felix wasn't even slightly surprised that this is where he chooses to welcome his guests, looking down on people must give him some sort of power trip or something. It's almost as if he heard the phrase "It's over, Anakin, I have the high ground," and made that his own personal motto. Whatever, let him have the feeling of false power if he wanted it, Felix knows that they have all the power in this situation and they're sure that Gabriel knows it as well.

"Hello Felix," Mr. Agreste greeted them with the same amount of warmth in his voice as liquid nitrogen, "while you are staying in this house you will abide by my rules. Adrien will inform you of them and show you to your room. You will attend school with him in the morning and I'm sure that you already know that you must represent not only the Culpa brand, but also the Agreste as well. I will be in my office working, do not disturb me. Contact Nathalie with any questions that cannot be answered by Adrien." He finished his spiel and left to what Felix assumed was his office space.

"Hello Felix!" Adrien greeted him with as much enthusiasm as he could muster in his sleepy state. "Come with me and I'll show you to your room."

Adrien led Felix to their room and listed all of the rules of the household that they were expected to follow. And... wow. Felix could not believe that their cousin had to live like this. The only social interaction this kid gets is at school and fencing? Pre-approved outings only with people determined socially acceptable by Gabriel? And if he gets even one "B" he isn't even going to be allowed to go to school at all? Felix knew that the living situation was bad for Adrien but know the only question running through their head was: What did they get themselves into??

--------

And... thats it for chapter 1! Mostly background info at this point, but next chapter will be the class' reaction to feralnette and felinette meeting for the first time. I just want to say thanks again to @bigfatbreak for giving me the inspiration to write a fic for the first time ever. Feel free to leave constructive criticism, I'm always looking to improve, especially at writing since this is my first time posting anything I've written online, so I want to get better so that I can make better content for you guys, gals, and non-binary pals. If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know and I'll make a tag list for ya. :)

[musicforactivitiesfreaks]

Anyway time for more nonsense from me I was thinking about the stories from TH’s last show and how fucking clueless NTs can be 

You take a guy who at that point was obviously cagey about being in the band at all, what with having to share all his time with people who thought he was a head case, and how much of a toll it takes on a neurodivergent person to be understimulated/not able to follow their current hyperfixation. It really does a number on the length of your fuse and your ability to deal with added stress and sensory input. It’s a build-up of things that might lead to a meltdown; to outsiders it might look sudden and without explanation but in reality it makes a lot of sense, it’s like a pressure cooker. Sometimes there’s a trigger, sometimes not, but in the case of the Melbourne show there’s a really clear trigger.

(side note, how many of these “tantrums” do you think weren’t diva stuff and just sensory overload/autistic meltdowns due to changed plans or unexpected events; all the while already overstretched and having no knowledge on how to handle it because you don’t know you’re autistic? I’m going for “pretty much all of them”)

I don’t understand how they don’t make a direct connection from the Maori girls getting abuse from the crowd and David running off (also, wow, I can’t believe David didn’t tell you guys he would be bringing those activists onstage... I don’t suppose it’s got anything to do with you calling Indigenous women “crazy” for wanting their people to be free.)

I can totally see this pushing an already stretched-thin autistic person over the edge. Hyperempathy in autism can seem selective to NTs but it’s very real, and here’s what this must have looked like to David: he brings these women onstage in an effort to do the right thing, to use his literal platform for good, and as a direct consequence these two marginalised people were subjected to racist abuse. It was an accident but you still feel that it’s your fault. You feel horrible. 

And now you know you’re about to have to play for a crowd of literal racists. It’s revolting. Autistic people often have a really, really strong sense of justice and are very concerned with finding what’s right and what’s wrong, something that is usually upset by the fact the neurotypical world sends very confusing signals on the matter. What autistics perceive to be steadfast values taken deep to heart, the allistic common has less trouble seeing as guidelines — it’s part of autistic rigidity and difficulty to adapt. This is a pattern in David’s writing, too, the concept of true/false, right/wrong, bad/good. 

The rest of TH were able to be pragmatic about the situation. They had a job to do and they were going to do it. For David it’s likely that it was just too much. Combined with all the extra stress that comes with being an autistic person and that was generated by the toxic environment that was the band at that point, the meltdown must have been pretty much inevitable. 

The whole “people with their feet in the mud” thing is also pretty transparent. It doesn’t matter that there was no mud, it’s obviously not what David was taking issue with. He already had trouble putting words on his feelings and organising his thoughts into speech, and meltdowns often make it even harder to express yourself. Sometimes I’ll go completely non-verbal during bad enough ones. He managed to utter one thing with the words that he could gather and he wasn’t able to express the complexity of the problem correctly. But it’s obvious what he meant: I can’t play for these people who behave like scum, I’m tired of travelling with you.

Like, I don’t understand how this isn’t clear cut to them, especially in hindsight. That reaction made complete sense. I can’t imagine being in that situation and not having to remove myself from it. 

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Two

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 2 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Warnings in this chapter: brief reference/hint to past sexual assault. 

Word Count: 7,500+

A/N: Thank you so much for your excitement about this series! I always smile when I read your comments. Sorry for such a long chapter, but it’s only ten parts and I gotta fit all somewhere lol

~

Unknown Location, 2015, 10:46pm

     The tightness of the rope wrapped around your wrists was excruciating, each movement causing it to rub against the already damaged skin, leaving more angry, red marks. You whipped your head back and forth, anger and fear coursing through your veins as you stared your father down. You watched as he carefully maneuvered his way around the room, every back straightening as he walked past them, every gun cocked and pointed right at you. Your nose twitched up as he walked closer, inspecting the ropes tying your feet to the chair and so on. You accumulated all the spit you could and aimed it for his face, pride washing over you as it hit him perfectly. But as quickly as that pride built, it shattered, a stinging sensation on your cheek now overpowering any other sense. 

“You cost me ten million.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to let it slip as you did not want another beating. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same!”

“Don’t tell me what I would have done!”

You flinched inwardly, your face still blushing with growing madness. If only you could loosen these bonds… 

“You will know to not mess up again.”

And as your father left the room, the men lined up against the wall finally let their shoulders fall forward, their once blank faces now donning sadistic smiles.

The Compound, 2018, 2:07am 

You sat up from your mound of pillows, kicking them to the side as well as the heavy blanket. Your ears rang impossibly loud, and it wasn’t until your feet touched your bedroom floor that you could hear yourself screaming. Your body was drenched in sweat, sliding easily on your wood floor as you kicked to escape the blanket. 

Sharp knocks against your door startled you, sudden ‘please, don’t!’’s escaping your mouth. Hyperventilating was always tiring, you thought, and the air was now super cold as you sucked it into your lungs.

“Doll, please? I’m coming in.”

The light from the hallway blinded you so you lifted your arm up as a temporary shield. 

“No, no! I’m good… I didn’t lose it. Please, trust me!”

“Y/N…”

You lowered your arm and stared at your nighttime intruder, instincts kicking in upon settling your teary eyes on him and causing you to groan in displeasure. 

“Don’t look at me.”

“Y/N.”

“I said don’t look at me.”

Steve sighed in defeat and walked back to your door. You thought he was going to simply leave you be, letting you ride out this panic attack alone like all the others. But he shut the door and made his way over to your couch on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and leaning his sleepy head in his right hand. It had been six months since the world literally fell apart, an unknown feeling of terror that simply sat at the pit of stomachs eating away at whatever sanity its host still had, plaguing the world. Tiredness was second nature, never actually reducing its power no matter how much sleep one got. But leaving you here to suffer each individual thread being pulled from your remaining sanity, alone, wasn’t an option. 

“Why are you staying?”

“I have nightmares, too. You aren’t that special.”

You rolled your eyes, hands now massaging your aching chest. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Y/N, you were screaming for help.”

“I scream for a lot of things.”

You figured Steve would succumb to his growing annoyance, but he stayed patient. 

“Was it about…?”

You sighed and pulled yourself up to your feet, knees wobbly and thighs alerting you of the droplets of sweat that beaded down your legs. “No. I don’t dream about the snap.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You let out a rather angry sigh. You were now rubbing your eyes, cleaning them of the accumulation of hard mucus. “I seriously don’t want to talk about this particular incident.”

Steve huffed through his nose and you were ready to pounce on him to tear that beard from his face, but stopped when you saw his small smile and genuine empathy in his eyes. “Okay, I won’t push you.”

You just stared at him, eyes wide and confused. But you nodded slowly, eyes now diverting to the blanket below you. 

“I’m just so fucking happy the snap took my father.”

Steve’s lifted his head quickly by your abrupt confession, eyebrows furrowed and lips frozen, as if wrapped around a lost word he couldn’t verbally address. He understood, but it shocked him nonetheless.

He ignored it, or at least chose to avoid an immediate discussion about it, and stood from your couch. 

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wanted to throw him out. Him being across the room and near the wall was starting to trigger more flashbacks. 

It’s Steve. It’s just Steve.

“Can you stay?”

Steve stumbled slightly in his step, clearly uncomfortable with your request. But he was a good man and when one of his teammates needed help, he would do whatever he could. And you were one of the only teammates he had left. 

“Okay,” he said. But as he made his way back to the couch and away from you, sudden racks of itchiness stretched from your wrists to the middle of your chest. You stumbled from the bed, arms extended outward as if you were still shielding yourself from some incoming attack. 

“No, no! Just…”

Steve watched your movements carefully, trying to discern between fear or awkwardness. He sighed and let you see his hands, turning them over in the air.

“It’s me. Tell me where you want me.”

You were in control. Just tell him where you want him. 

“I’ll lay here,” you started, getting back into the right side of the bed and pulling the covers up to your hips. “You there, but upside down.”

Steve chuckled and followed your commands. You watched him walk, feeling the dip of your mattress as his heavy body lay down. You were grateful when his sock-covered feet touched your left side pillow, his chuckles gaining volume as he tried to get comfortable. 

“Do I at least get a blanket?”

“Oh!” you leapt from the bed and to the closet.  He listened to your soft pitter-patter as you shuffled across the cold floor, shutting his eyes to relish in the childish melody. You passed Steve two heavy blankets, mindful of the cold weather outside. Then you climbed back into bed, passing Steve a few pillows, and snuggling back into your own. 

A few shifts of the blankets made you open your eyes again. Steve was not as stiff as you expected him to be - almost like he wanted to help you - and you mentally slapped yourself remembering that he would do this for Bucky. 

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny grin on your face. “Thank you.”

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, thankful that he could still help others even when he himself was falling apart. “You’re welcome.”

Present Day, 2025, 9:45am

     If anyone were to truly study Steve, they would see he was starting to act his age. He enjoyed fluffy socks, tea instead of coffee, sketching in the secluded garden of the new compound - anything a man pushing a hundred would truly enjoy. And he found himself shaving less, watching every new movie released regardless of genre, and eating much more oatmeal than usual. He remembers how whenever Bucky had saved up just enough for them to splurge on items they never usually indulged in, oatmeal would always be his go to. It was still a common ‘peasant’ meal for the two young bachelors, but Bucky would heat it up with fresh milk he had bought that morning, added the fresh strawberries and dates that were in season, and sprinkled brown sugar - damn, Steve loved brown sugar - on top. Bucky would place the bowl in front of Steve, ignoring Steve’s constant blabbering about ‘Buck, we can’t afford this’, or ‘you don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on me, you jerk’. But he would quickly shut up once Bucky’s perfected oatmeal recipe landed on his eager tongue and filled his happy stomach. Regardless of those past memories of young roommates searching for loose change in their couch and more recent ones of two reunited best friends sharing looks of awe whenever they saw how much milk and brown sugar now costs, Steve was certain the old man in him was just barely emerging. 

He definitely didn’t skip the irritated attitude phase every old man seemed to develop as the years passed, his resting facial expressions and movements starting to match those of his best friend. Grumpy, tired all the time regardless of the serum, and asking each other instead of the modern people around them how to work their phones. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, or go on a jog, or watch a movie - anything - rather than having to give a briefing about something he hadn’t had to think about for seven years. And although he had the chance to use the stones before and didn’t, Steve couldn’t quite help wishing that he was transported back to his and Bucky’s old and crumbling apartment, fighting over that one knitted blanket Bucky had bought for the both of them with his last dime.

You seemed happier with your whole family situation after the snap, but he never wanted to ask. Whether you were putting on a brave face for him, he was rid of it momentarily only to be pushed into the chaos all over again. But this time was different because you were finally going to end it all. Finish what you had started all those years ago - then maybe Steve could take that afternoon nap he wanted.     

“Talk to me. How are we doing this?”

Fury pulled up a screen with all the photos and biographies, essentially a powerpoint prepared by both you and Steve. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, sir. But I know my family and their schemes better than anyone,” you said. Fury knew this was true and the plan would ultimately be mapped out by you. His input was always welcome, but you knew the small details - their personalities, their weaknesses, their strengths, even the way they took their coffee. You even knew which of them sampled their product before sending it off on a cross-country road trip. 

Steve stood beside the monitor, using this finger to change the screen. “So, we’re looking for our physical proof. A paper trail detailing land and their product, contacts, storage units, aliases - the works.”

You nodded at Fury and your teammates. “Exactly. The hardest things to obtain will most definitely be evidence about my father’s involvement. Proof he gave the orders and profited from them.”

“Your word isn’t enough?” Sam asked.

“No, not unless I throw myself under the bus as well. It’s his word against mine unless I can prove these things were all his doing,” you responded, taking a sip from your water. 

The only other people in the briefing room besides Steve and Fury were Sam, Bucky and Scott. Everyone else would get a brief overview later on this week, but these three were specifically chosen by Fury to help aid you in the actual physical fight. 

“The wedding is the perfect distraction,” Scott spoke. “Almost like this was made for a heist.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Not a heist.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugged, gaining a grin from you across the table. He smiled at your reaction and sent you a wink. 

“Agent, we have to go over the basics and any new information you can provide,” Fury encouraged.

You motioned toward Steve to bring up the photos on the monitor, “Let’s start with the basics.”

Steve took over for the first portion of your presentation. You didn’t mind - in fact, the more control he had in this would certainly help ease his mind and you definitely did not want a stressed out Steve Rogers accompanying you on a twelve hour road trip. 

“Ernesto Vega, father of Y/N Y/L/N, born 1950 in Guadalajara, Mexico, but because of the snap, the 80 year old is still only 75.”

“Damn, your father is old!”

You laughed at Sam’s outburst, “Yup, and I got like ten half-siblings.”

Sam sat up straighter, “No way?”

“Way.”

“Daniel Seda,” Steve continued, his voice louder. “Vega’s second in command, born 1970, currently 55 years old. Took over as top commander after the snap, and according to Y/N he didn’t take it well when everyone was brought back.”

“Hmm, threatened to put another bullet in me,” you teased, pointing at your stomach where the scar underneath your shirt had already long healed. You could have sworn you heard Steve’s breath hitch, but even if it did, he had quickly covered it by swiping the monitor. 

“But her father saw this as proof of loyalty. Because no matter how much he knows Y/N hates him, she still brought him back.”

You lifted your shoulders, arms in the air as if imitating the nonverbal form of ‘oh, well!’, and your thin smile caused your cheeks to pop out comically.

“So, Seda hates you?” Bucky asked, chuckles still vibrating in his chest from your previous childish movements.

You brushed your hand through the air, “Not the first man to hate me and not the last.”

Steve snickered. You could say that again.

“The wedding will be held at Vega’s personal and private ten-acre ranch in Northern California-”

“A lovely fall wedding!”

Steve bit his tongue, eyes never leaving the monitor. “Sure… and it’s perfect. He’s wanted and he’s going to be on U.S soil.”

You stood from your chair and grabbed the electronic marker from the desk. You circled the main points of entry plus the directions of secret exits hoping to emphasize the ‘private’ part of Steve’s statement. “And since it’s his most private getaway and no one would suspect he would hide important shit on said U.S soil, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure our proof is there.”

You pulled up the blueprints and marked a giant ‘X’ on the farthest corner room in the west end. It was your father’s office. 

“Ninety-eight?” Sam asked, reviewing the printed blueprints himself.

You twirled the marker between your fingers, “My dad is clever. My other two percent is telling me there’s no evidence at all.”

Scott clutched his chest in relief, “Okay, at least one outweighs the other.”

You shared another laugh with the ‘regular-sized man’.

Steve continued listing the basics, all while Fury sat toward the edge of the long table reviewing the screen. “The other two big names in the drug game are Omar Ramirez and Marcus White. Ramirez runs most things from Mexico City to San Antonio, Texas and he’s probably the least evil of them all. White runs Europe, specifically Germany and England.”

You interjected, “Ramirez focuses on the product. He orders his men to focus on the business instead of the outside world - meaning, no unnecessary kills, no violence toward women and children, no killing cops or citizens. Just producing and transporting.”

Almost forgetting he was there, Fury’s voice somewhat startled you. “Vega has lost men to Ramirez, men who wanted a change in scenery.”

You nodded in confirmation, “They aren’t necessarily enemies but they’re no besties either.”

Sam rolled the blueprints back up and handed them to Bucky. “So, we’re taking them all down?”

“The big three. Plus Seda,” Steve declared, finally taking his first sip of water in what felt like forever. If he didn’t want anyone to know he was nervous about this mission, he was for sure failing. 

You hummed, “Vega and Seda are also the only ones who know of Steve’s involvement.”

“How’d that happen?” Bucky asked.

“Because Steve only ‘transports’ my father’s product. Not the others. Steve’s role is essentially to green light the passages and is my main pull,” you clarified. 

It was true - Steve didn’t do or touch anything. And you thought this best considering he was America’s golden boy - you couldn’t possibly bear real involvement from him. This wasn’t his world and never should have been but it was yours. 

You dealt with people directly. You took out the snitches. You handled the product during inspections. You did it all - and not because you thought Steve was some fragile soul who couldn’t achieve the same results - but because you brought him into that mess during a time in his life when he definitely didn’t need it.

“But how did it happen?”

You shrugged, hoping your answer would suffice for the rest of the group as it never does for Steve. “When I first started out as a field agent, my father didn’t trust I was doing it for him. The more I promoted, the more suspicious he got. It wasn’t until we exposed SHIELD as half-HYDRA that he was done with me.”

Fury interjected once again, “So, Y/L/N here had to pull rank out of her ass.”

You snorted, “Thanks, Fury. That sounded nice.”

“I told them that I had the literal symbol of America by my side. That defeating HYDRA was only to get his friend back, not to save the world. Plus, I told them that HYDRA was targeting all of them. And once I could get proof - a forged recording made by Fury before he went into hiding - well, it was like the greatest example of submission.”

“Why didn’t you say Tony?” 

That certainly was a question Steve always had and wanted answered. God, he really hoped you had said Tony.

“Because I got the literal symbol of America as a partner-in-crime. My father almost told me he loved me... almost.”

You sat back down in your chair, a tiny puff of air escaping your lips. “And that made Seda furious. I may hate my father, but Seda is the main threat to blowing this whole operation.”

If anything, you wanted your father deader than dirt, silenced by the one child he always regretted bringing into the world. He had tortured you in more ways than you thought possible. 

      “Now, I thought my dad was bad.”

You fell back onto the couch before retrieving your cup of coffee you had placed on the table. Nebula gave you a tiny chuckle in return. 

 “Yes, mine has eradicated half the universe. I win ‘worst father’.”

You sipped your coffee, trying and failing to block out the banter between Rocket and Tony as they discussed the location of the space stone. “You know, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Nebula chewed her dinner slowly, listening to you ramble on about anything that popped into your mind. She knew this was your coping mechanism - to just keep talking until someone shut you up. But she enjoyed it, really, because you spoke of topics that she didn’t quite understand or know about. She learned something new everyday simply by listening to you. 

“I should have thanked Thanos for dusting his ass, though.”

Nebula stopped mid-chew, blank expression but the hint of a twitch in her lip visible.

“I’m joking.”

You had asked her once why Thanos had spared her and Tony when he snapped his fingers. But Nebula had no rational answer, only responding that he must have spared her out of last minute pity and Tony to live through the consequences. And the tiny voice inside your head knocked again, reminding you that ‘maybe this snap was overall a good thing - your father can’t hurt you anymore!’, but you shut it up as quickly as it came. 

“So, how many planets are there in the universe, really?”

     Fury began piling files in one folder, making sure to hand out the sheet with names and contact numbers of agents stationed close to the venue and your chosen hotel.  

“We’ll get into mission specifics at a later date once Rogers and Y/L/N are settled and scope out the place. For now, study up on your targets and perfect your acting skills.”

     You assumed you would only need one big suitcase for the trip, only packing essentials and extra shirts just in case. You rolled your clothes tightly, securing your signature perfume and some jewelry inside some sweaters. You hid identifiable items in the small compartments - your passport, journal, old SHIELD tag, driver’s license, etc. It was the paranoid side of you taking over, the possibility of having your cover blown likely and frightening. The amount of times you had ventured into the general vicinity of your father and his crew always proved safer than you expected. But there could always be that day he simply didn’t want you around anymore. 

So, you prepared in the smallest and even cringiest ways possible - resorting to drafting letters for those you wanted to remember you after you had been taken out. You paused your packing to grab your spare journal. You spent a good hour writing. A letter to Wanda, to Bucky, to Peter, to Rhodey, to Sam. Some were shorter than others - others extending to over two pages. But your mind was racing with things you hoped they would never have to read, scattered thoughts and only hints of identifiable wit penned on paper.

You tucked the letters behind the fabric you had recently ripped open. You planned on duct-taping the rip, your eyes drifting back over to your journal. You tapped your foot rapidly for a few seconds, fingers twisting in anticipation, mind still clear enough to draft one more. You quickly picked the pen right back up, sitting on the edge of your bed and starting the letter you might regret later. But at that moment, with the horrible prospect of dying on this mission, you wrote. 

     ‘Steve,

     Believe when I say that I was so sure I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…’

You wrote and wrote until your handwriting grew sloppy at the edge of the paper, and signed it. You tucked the final letter into the hole and taped it shut. You really hoped you would be able to survive and burn those written words later. 

A soft knock sounded from across the room and your bedroom door opened to reveal Steve, light blue dress shirt tucked into his jeans like the old man he truly was. You couldn’t help but grin at that, cursing your involuntary actions for this man. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” you asked, continuing to fold clothing into your suitcase. He leaned against your door, hesitant. Steve often wondered why and how he could go days, weeks - one time even a whole month - without speaking to or seeing you. He was an expert at one word answers by now, opting to always have someone else around whenever he seriously had to carry a conversation with you. But what struck him the most was that you didn’t seem to care anymore. He witnessed the change - hell, he was the one that caused it - but it was a change that he both wanted and didn’t. How was it so easy for you?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded and walked over to your couch to sit. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to make this conversation the least awkward you could. “Because this was literally sprung on both of us after almost ten years of waiting.”

“I’m okay.”

You accepted his answer. He looked comfortable enough, shoulders relaxed and genuinely interested. There was a part of you that wanted to rush over and shake him, yell at him for being so clueless and fake at the same time. There was no possible way he was fully okay with everything - he hadn’t been himself since the snap, and when Natasha and Tony died, he was someone else entirely. You had brought it up with Bucky several times, but he assured you that Steve was just dealing with things his own way. That he was still a man out of time, they both were, and battle after battle could take its toll. And Bucky would hype their therapist up, that they were the reason he and Steve are able to walk in public without that constant voice warning of danger in the back of their heads, and that you should schedule a visit sometime. You always declined, asking him to call you if he truly needed another person to talk to. He would smile, taking you up on your offer whenever a day was particularly triggering.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was sixteen. Ten years really just flew by… considering.”

Steve nodded, “Is there anything I should know?”

You hummed, “If you mean things about my family, then I’ll just tell you on the way there or at the hotel.”

He chuckled and stood to lean against your bedpost. “No, I mean like, what should I pack just in case?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at such an innocent question, “Um, comfy socks. It’s pretty cold in California in the winter. Gas money, it’s pretty fucking expensive, too.”

He smiled, “Good to know.”

The two of you packed in silence for several minutes. Steve helped you roll your clothes and gather your toiletries, even asking you if you wanted to bring your current toothbrush or the new one in your bottom drawer. 

You knew you shouldn’t have spoken about the topic burning in your throat, but you felt like you had to say something. If you mentioned it during the mission, you risked a larger argument than the one you would get now. So you formulated your next sentence carefully, already bracing for impact as it slipped.

“Look, the elephant in the room should be addressed. Once my father’s dealt with, I have no reason to stay here.”

Steve clipped the belt over the top of your clothes, securing the items tightly. He seemed disoriented, your sudden proclamation startling him. “What do you mean? You did the work, you trained, you helped us literally save the world.”

You shrugged and kept your voice light, “Yeah, but I started this gig when I was sixteen. I didn’t join the Avengers until I was freshly in my twenties. I’ve literally known nothing else but fighting.”

Steve sat at the edge of your bed, furrowed eyebrows and all as he chose his next words. He felt both angry and sad, a mixture of feelings that he never quite grew accustomed to whenever he was around you. They ate away at him slowly, creeping into his brain to wrap around his common sense, his sense of self, the man he was before the snap. 

“Are you saying you just need a break?”

“I think,” you shrugged, zipping the suitcase and tugging its weight off your bed and onto the floor. 

“What about Wanda and Bucky?”

You scrunched your face in amused confusion, a playful smile resting on your lips, “I’m not falling off the face of the Earth, Steve. I’ll visit or something.”

“Or something.”

He stood and walked back to your couch, restless and even more stressed than he was before he entered your room. 

“Steve, we lost so much. It’s been two years since we brought everyone back, but… it took its toll.”

He snapped his head up, “You don’t need to tell me about shit taking its toll.”

You felt like you stared at him for several minutes, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach and traveling up your throat. That familiar lump constricting your airway as you forced yourself to swallow it and the forming tears. And once again, your mouth spoke before your mind could approve.      

“Why didn’t you use the stones for yourself?”

Steve sat, shocked into silence temporarily. “What?”

“When you and Carol put the stones back - why didn’t you stay somewhere you really wanted to be?”

You remember watching him step onto the platform holding the briefcase of infinity stones and holding Mjollnir, - because of fucking course he could wield Mjollnir, he was a good man even if you were on his bad side - simply minding his own business and waiting for Carol to join him. You remember thinking he would return with a different story, only after he got some of that life Tony had always encouraged him to find, that he would go back to Peggy and live the life he always wanted. But as quickly as they disappeared into thousands of timelines did they reappear, Carol joyful and content while Steve trailed behind her. Your heart had pounded erratically, Bucky looking at you with wide eyes because yes, I thought he would do exactly what you were thinking, too. 

“None of your business.”

“I’m not trying to pry-” you reasoned, but Steve stepped toward you with flushed cheeks and a cracked voice. 

“But all you do is pry, pry, pry. God, do you ever just shut up?”

All you could hear behind the ringing of your ears were Steve’s quick breaths, slowing as each second passed and he realized what he had said. A moment of weakness, in his opinion, but still uncalled for. 

“Pack some snacks for the road and get out of my room.”

Steve straightened his back, eyes practically yelling for you to look at him again, pleading for you to see the remorse swimming in them. But you just tugged your suitcase to the corner of your room, ignoring him completely. “Gladly.”

     You and Steve were mature enough to keep your arguments at least a hundred miles away from any mission you were conducting or when around your friends. A quick quarrel in the morning was basically nonexistent a few hours later when the whole group suggested a board game or movie night. Although this impromptu road trip would be the slightest bit awkward, you two were smart enough to not compromise the mission. 

And you had to drive as flying and airport security was too risky, especially with the amount of weapons attached to your body and in the trunk of that rented car. 

“Call us when you hit the first checkpoint. After that, we’ll be monitoring your hotel check-in and any new ones, police reports filed throughout that week, anything that directly involves your stay,” Bucky said, handing you a burner phone. 

You stepped forward to hug him. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight squeeze, releasing you slightly to whisper in your ear. “Try not to kill him for the next twelve hours, will ya?”

You pulled away and gave him your best grin, bumping your bracelet with his. “You know I can’t promise that, Bucky.”

He rolled his eyes, “You kill him, I kill you.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me.” Bucky almost burst out laughing from the fake, pornographic moan you let out because of his threat. 

“No, but seriously - just… lay low, trust each other, and we’ll be there in the next few days.”

You slid the burner into your sweater pocket and patted it, checking if it was secure. You waved goodbye to Bucky and pulled the passenger door open. You blew him a kiss, red lipstick now on your fingers. “Can’t wait to see you!”

Bucky stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, an embarrassed but happy smile on his face. He caught the floating kiss mid-air. “Already miss you!”

“Stop, I’m blushing!” you teased, your left hand resting palm up on your forehead in an exaggerated manner. 

“Go!”

You obliged, falling into the passenger seat and clicking your seatbelt. 

Twenty minutes into the drive and Steve finally decided to speak. 

“So, you and Bucky?”

You giggled, thumbs currently flying over your phone screen as you tried to beat your high score in some awful video game you discovered last week. “Yup, I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Steve’s hand fidgeted on the steering wheel, “Seriously?”

You closed out your video game, “No, Steve. It’s mindless flirting. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahh…” he nodded in understanding, a lazy smile resting on his face. He focused on both the road and you, your head leaning against the foggy window. “About earlier-”

“Don’t mention it,” you interrupted. The second you peaked through your heavy eyelids did you lock eyes with Steve, regret visible in them. 

He continued, “I blew up at you and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Cool, you’re forgiven.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned quietly, but you weren’t getting angry. You were just tired from the day already and having to sit for twelve hours straight wasn’t going to help. So, you took the high road. “Look, it’s a twelve hour drive until our first stop. Let’s forget about it or else I promise you, I will jump out of this car when you push eighty.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in his chest due to your absurd promise, but he accepted your answer. 

“...Okay.” 

     By hour two, there was a restlessness between the both of you. No matter how much you extended your leg, the cramping wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times Steve would twist his neck to the side to get it to crack, it would just tighten again. So, against protocol but still on your best behavior, you and Steve made a couple stops along the way.      

The first was a burger joint in the middle of buttfuck Ohio, you had commented, earning a choking sound from Steve as he tried to contain his laughter. It was a hole in the wall type of place, perfect for lying low and out of sight, and you had enjoyed your meal in the car. You listened to Steve’s playlist on low volume, stealing each other’s fries to simply piss the other off, and hit the road after your meal.      

The second stop was around hour eight, and the sun was already starting to set. You desperately needed to use the bathroom and once you saw a tiny town that ‘looks so much like the town in Gilmore Girls!’, Steve pulled over and parked in a diner parking lot. Donning caps and ordering a coffee and a tea to go to seem less suspicious, you hurried from the diner and back to your car. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyeing a gazebo with a black miniature fence around it. You begged Steve to snap a photo, promising that this would be the only favor you ask of him for the next few hours, and went to hitch one leg over the metal fence. You settled yourself on top, hands gripping the railing and trying not to fall. You started to laugh uncontrollably as the fence started hurting your bottom, begging Steve to snap the photo quicker.      

‘Take the damn picture, you big oaf!’     

‘Well, then hold still!’     

‘It’s hurting my ass!’     

‘Smile!’    

The third stop was the final one, somewhere in Iowa and deep in the forest. You complained about how Fury warned you of motels, that you would have to seek shelter elsewhere to avoid being recognized. You could easily blend in, but the mountain of muscle beside you would blow your cover. And you wanted to arrive in California undetected by the media.       

Steve drove the car into a dark and secluded part of the forest, ground that seemed used by campers often and had an emergency phone and landline nearby. It was secret enough, so you parked the car and retrieved the blankets from the trunk.      

“You taking the back?” Steve asked, jumping back into the car and rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather. His face was flushed from just a few seconds out in the cool breeze, nose frozen and the tip red. He looked younger, you thought, somewhat resembling those renditions of Greeks in renaissance art.      

“You’ve been driving all day. You should stretch your legs,” you answered, already wrapping the blanket up to your shoulders and securing it around your neck.      

“You sure? We can alternate.”     

You smiled, already feeling the effects of the warmth on your tired body, “I’m sure, Steve. Get some rest and I’ll drive in the morning.”     

Steve exited the car after turning it off - sucks that you had to save the gas - and hopped into the backseat. He kicked off his shoes and lay across the connected seat, facing you. He could see the outline of your nose as you tilted your head slightly to the side, the blanket wrapped around your neck and hiding the real length of your hair. It resembled a bob cut by how half of it was hidden, and Steve thought that hairstyle would suit you.      

Your personal phone rang, cutting through the comfortable silence and startling the both of you. You fumbled it in your hand and looked back at Steve, face falling as you showed him the name.      

Seda.      

“Answer it on the third ring.”     

You did as Steve told you, answering the phone on the third ring and preparing your voice. He scrambled for the tape recorder, pressing ‘play’ as soon as he could.      

“You rarely call me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you answered.      

His voice sounded hoarse over the phone, almost like he had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. “Are you attending?”    

“My dear sister is getting married, Seda. Of course I’m going to embarrass her.”     

He paused for a few moments, sounding like he was directing the people around him to finish something. But he responded to your answer in a serious tone. “I hope you’re being your usual sarcastic self and aren’t serious.”     

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the phone, and Steve’s lips spread into a smile. “You’ve known me long enough to know, I hope.”     

“Sadly.”     

“I’m hurt,” you joked, voice still light and cheerful. Seda paused on the line again, the sound of papers rustling letting you know the line was still active.      

“I need to know if the Captain is attending too.”     

“He was invited,” you responded, laughing a little at the fact that Seda hadn’t known this information you were sure the rest of your family knew.      

He chuckled, a slight whistle sound letting you know he was smoking another cigarette. “Mm, guess your family is finally meeting your lover, huh?”     

The air in your mouth didn’t make it down to your lungs and you looked at Steve with equally wide eyes. But you didn’t stay fazed for long, responding to such an accusation with ease. “My lover, yes. I’m so damn giddy about that.”     

Seda hummed in satisfaction, “Your father always told you to not get involved with the product. Scrambles your brains from thinking straight. But he applauds you on this one.”     

You put a finger in your mouth and mimicked gagging, causing Steve to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh. “I’ve never mentioned the Captain as my lover before. Why is my father always right?”     

You knew exactly what to say. The more backhanded praise you gave your father only fed into the truth and lies everyone knew - truth being you hated your father because of his power and the lie being that you were just as power hungry as him. As long everyone assumed you wanted this power, the more you had to act like you hated your father’s.      

“He knows more than he lets on. You know that.”     

“I know a lot of things.”     

Seda continued, “No friends allowed, anyway. So, if the Captain isn’t your lover then… we may have problems. Is there a problem?”     

You kept your voice at a steady volume, “I said I was with him, didn’t I? Have you seen the man?”          

“Seen him, heard him speak. So righteous and dull. Not really your type.” Seda was growing impatient with the conversation, clearly angry that he hadn’t caught a slip or lie from you.      

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Ew, don’t think you know my type.”     

     “Buck, ‘my type’ is back home with a warm chicken noodle soup in my lap and a couple of loose papers at my disposal,” Steve whined, trying to keep the same pace as his overly enthusiastic friend as he hurried down the sidewalk.      

“She’s such a knockout, Steve! I’m sure she’ll love you.”     

Steve couldn’t help but blush at Bucky’s kind words, the hype always repairing some parts of Steve’s broken self-esteem and reminding him of his worth. But it was his third date this month and rejection was starting to seem like his favorite sport. No matter what he did - offering a girl some peanuts, accidentally stepping on her (once!) feet while dancing, or simply not living up to Bucky’s gracious advertising - women just weren’t interested.      

“You know that’s not true, Buck. Can’t we just have a quiet night in?”     

Bucky stopped and guided them into the nearby alley, both to knock some sense into his friend and to give Steve a break from the tiny jog.      

“Listen here, Steve. Any girl would be lucky to be with you-”     

“Buck, we’ve been through this-”     

“Let me finish,” Bucky shushed him, hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady both him and himself. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you. If this one doesn’t see you how I see you, then she’s just insane.”     

Steve smirked, “Don’t insult the girl before I’ve even met her, jerk.”     

Bucky smiled, his high cheeks pushing up to create crinkles by his eyes. “Trust me, pal. You just need to find a woman with as big of a mouth as you.”     

Steve swatted his friend across his chest, laughs rumbling in both their chests and down the once quiet alleyway.      

     “What hotel are you staying at?” Seda quickly asked, ignoring your quip. You were done with this conversation as it was leading nowhere.      

“Staying at one where no one can hear the Captain scramble my brains. Goodbye,” you replied, an annoyance in your tone that even Seda would believe as natural.      

“See you soon.”     

You let Seda end the call, a little power play you allowed him to have. God, it was gonna feel good to take him down.     

Steve shifted in his seat, stopping the recorder in time for his question. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why did your dad assume we were a couple?”     

You gave him a tiny chuckle, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders and settling back into your seat. “I don’t know why that man says anything anymore. I guess they just expected it.”     

“Why?”     

No matter how many years passed, both awake or frozen, Steve never did quite understand the sexual appeal that lingered around his name. No matter how many times Bucky joked about it, no matter the amount of social media posts, no matter anything - he just didn’t seem to understand why people thought he was a ladies man. 

You snuggled deeper into your blanket, scanning the outside woods one last time just in case. “You wouldn’t risk your reputation and status for me unless you were fucking me, I guess.”

“Crude.”

You turned your head to him and sighed, “They think I’m the whore of the family. It’s just too funny sometimes.”

Steve’s face fell, “I’m sorry about that.”

You shuffled in your blanket to pull your arm out and wave it in the air.  “Used to it.” 

Steve didn’t press further, deciding to lay back finally to find a cozier position. It was quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and slight motion disturbing the silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the moonlight hitting the steering wheel. By the sound of Steve’s breathing, you knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet. So you allowed yourself the smallest confession, a crack in the door Steve was figuratively standing outside of.

“My sister is his prized possession, though.”

Steve didn’t respond, but from the sound of the blanket moving you could tell he had turned to face you. 

“Never knew why.”

Steve pondered your words for a long time, long after your breathing became slower and tiny snores left your mouth. He didn’t exactly know what to say or what to do. It wasn’t like you dropped top secret information on him or anything, but it made him wonder just why in the world your father hated you so much. 

You had done everything asked of you. You were controlled, tortured mentally everyday, having to endure and make decisions that Steve knew you didn’t want any part of. Your father should be thanking you for keeping his business afloat, for expanding it, for roping Steve’s own name into that life. As he contemplated any rational reason for such hate, he heard your soft snore turn into an innocent purr, and he felt himself leaning more into a mutual understanding. It frightened him, gripping his reality by the throat, because Steve actually knew why. That innocence he saw with you, no doubt had presented itself to your father involuntarily and your father knew. 

He knew you were good at heart. 

~

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​

[dhrdrabbles]

Their Quidditch practice round on Thursday evenings had six core members – Potter (the Undying), Potter (the Actual Harpy Professional Who Somehow Had the Time on Thursdays), Weasley (the Clown Turned Successful Businessman), Weasley (the Annoying), Weasley (the Eldest), and Draco. Other players joined them on an irregular basis and they usually were enough to play full games, but Double Potter, Triple Weasley, and, well, Draco, had become the staple.

Spouses and friends – and yes, even offspring by now – would be around to watch. As the weekly game had turned into something a little larger, someone (Draco’s Galleons were on Weasley the Clown) had installed a butterbeer tab next to their pitch. Small ranks had been built shortly after.

The practice round had gotten so infamous, it had even finally broken the ice for Draco in the Ministry. He had spent two years as an intern – an intern –and had then been promoted to a clerk. Draco’s skin still crawled when he thought about the day of his ‘promotion’ – being called into Fawley’s office, expecting some form of recognition at last, only to be greeted with a sneer and the contract for the position as a paper pusher with a negligibly higher salary compared to the longest internship in the history of internships.

He had been the newest regular on the Quidditch pitch then, only recently acquired by Potter (the Undying) in an act of Gryffindor gallantry, but on the night of his promotion, Draco had played the worst game of his life and when Potter had called him out on it, he had snapped. This was the night they had become friends over a ridiculous amount of Firewhiskey (and some unholy verbal abuse towards the Ministry’s ongoing corrupt behaviour which had benefitted Draco for the larger part of his life as Potter pointed out after the fourth whiskey).

The night was, alas, the turning point for Draco. When it became apparent that he was indeed on the pitch to play Quidditch, not kill the Chosen One, and when he sometimes cheered with Weasley and Weasley (whichever) after winning together, he gradually found himself in a more favourable light off-pitch as well.

Six weeks after he and Potter had hit the bottle, Draco received his first ever commendation at work.

Six months after that, Fawley acknowledged (reluctantly) that it was a waste of talent to have Draco sit on a clerk position.

The affiliation with ‘good people’ had done that for Draco. It often left him with a seething feeling, somewhere in the middle of jealousy, anger, mistrust and resignation. He was, however, also humbled by the experience, maybe as much as he had been when Potter and Granger had testified during his trial.

And Potter knew. He would sometimes smile to himself when he stepped by Draco’s office and read the nametag which now identified him as an International Officer for the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

However, despite all the redemption bullshit and the mere presence of two Potters and a minimum of three Weasleys, not to speak of the immense popularity of Thursday practice games and drinks afterwards, one person was conspicuously absent every Thursday without fail.

She was here today.

Draco saw her brunette mane fifteen minutes into the game and almost came to a complete halt.

A bludger spurred past his cheek and Inglebee followed shortly after, shouting at Draco.

Blinking, he set off again, looking for the snitch.

Draco lowered his broom – keeping his watch for the little gold ball. Yes, this was definitely Hermione Granger, gracing the ranks of the Quidditch pitch for the first time in five years. Her hair, usually a little tamer when at work, now fell without constraints. He wondered if he could see her cast the trademark blow on the infamous flick of hair that always found its way into her face.

A hissing noise distracted Draco and he dove to the left to dodge another bludger. A cursing Inglebee followed right after, he saw Bole laughing from a distance. Cursing himself now, Draco looked out for Potter and found him hovering at the other end of the pitch, looking rather confused.

‘Get it together’, Draco told himself, shaking his head.

So what if she was here? Everyone knew Granger was usually still at work when their games started and didn’t care much for Quidditch anyway. Everyone knew she didn’t really like crowded places, so she avoided coming to the Leaky afterwards as well.

Draco frowned. He half-heartedly followed Potter now, who circled above the other players. The snitch was nowhere near, however, and Draco dove down to look among the other players. It was pure coincidence that he came to a halt just below Granger’s seat. He only observed her Muggle summer dress for a few milliseconds, always one the lookout for the snitch or another –

‘Malfoy, what the fuck!’ Inglebee shouted, again beating the bludger away from Draco. He grimaced.

‘Sorry, thought I saw the snitch down there!’

‘You didn’t move shit, you smarmy flobberworm!’

Always one for words, Inglebee flew off, still swinging his bat angrily. Draco grimaced again, again looking out for a little gold something. Was that a gold necklace around Granger’s neck or –

Cheering interrupted Draco’s contemplation and he whirled around, seeing Potter with the snitch. He was barely ten feet away from Draco and – again – looked at him in confusion, before Weasley (the Elder) and Wood tackled him for a victory hug.

When Draco landed, Weasley (the Clown) patted him on the shoulder.

‘Got a little confused there, Malfoy? See something you like?’

‘What? No! Get lost, Weasley.’

George only laughed and congratulated his wife on the win. Angelina smiled at Draco but seemed almost as confused as Potter.

Avoiding his other teammates after this embarrassing performance, Draco strode straight to the bench where the players usually kept their belongings during games.

‘Accio water bottle’, he murmured, then gulped down some water first and poured the rest over his neck. It was hot today, even in the evening.

‘Frigidus’, a prim voice behind him called. The cooling charm was cast exceptionally, or it would have been useless on Draco at this point. His neck was burning and for once he was glad his cheeks turned red as tomatoes when playing Quidditch, otherwise they surely would have done so now.

Hermione Granger stood next to the bench and looked down blithely.

‘Harry keeps telling me you’re one of the best players on the pitch, Malfoy. Yet this was rather …’, she chuckled and Draco groaned in frustration. Was she here to mock him?

When he didn’t respond, Granger strolled to the other side of the bench and sat down beside him, her slender, tanned legs crossed. Draco was acutely aware of his post-Quidditch smell and squirmed a little. This was not how he had imagined –

‘I must say, however, the statistics are on your side. I’m willing to give you another chance to impress me next week.’

He couldn’t help it. ‘Are you sure it won’t be another five years until you find the time?’

Her eyebrow was raised as she looked at him. Before Draco had the chance to regret what he had said, she blew the infamous flick of hair out of her face. He was so done for.

‘It’s in my calendar, Malfoy. I keep my word. Make sure you don’t encounter any … confounding variables next week.’

‘Gryffindor pinkie promise’, he mumbled and she laughed. ‘Indeed. Here.’

Granger held out her pinkie to him and Draco smiled involuntarily. Her hand lingered on his and his heart rate shot up.

‘Are you coming to the Leaky tonight, then?’

She hesitated. Potter had once told him that Granger didn’t handle crowds well since the Battle of Hogwarts. Cursing inwardly, he added, ‘We can sit at the table all night if you want.’

Granger’s smile returned softly. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Really?’

She now laughed again. Draco kept scolding himself inwardly for sounding like an overly excited teenager. Another, much more agreeable teenager than he had been, granted, but also a much more cringeworthy one.

‘Sure’, she seemed to hide a smile as she stood and patted down her dress. ‘See you later, then.’

Draco couldn’t believe his luck. His eyes followed her slender frame surrounded by the most impossible hair out there as she walked towards Potter, who now stared at the two of them with suspicion. Halfway between them, Granger turned towards Draco again. ‘Can I bring a book?’

He groaned but couldn’t hide his amusement. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way, Granger!’

 Author’s notes:

I have come to the conclusion that I am unable to actually write in drabble format. Have another fluffy short one shot during these tiring times.

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Childhood friends-part 2

 Summary: Negan and y/n spend the day together talking of their history which makes things become complicated for y/n along with the toll of her friends demise.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, signs of depression

Notes: jesus sorry this is kinda meh and sorry it took so long to get out I procrastinate a lot and life's been chaotic anyways I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Waking up in negans arms felt strange for y/n. She was laying curled up next to him their legs tangled together and y/n head on negans chest. She didn't want to move but at the same time she felt wrong not doing so.

After a few minutes of this internal battle going on in her head she eventually decided to move. Slowly moving away she slid off the bed and into the guest bathroom. throwing water on her face she recapped the events of the day before. Negan had broken her promise and made her feel a sense of fear she had pushed away for so long. She more so didn't understand how negan was so casual with arguments with the history they both had memories of.

Pulling herself out of the bathroom y/n was greeted with negan sitting up in the bed on his phone. “wont Lucille wonder why your in here?” y/n asked confused why he was so casual and calm. “You mean the same fucking Lucille who practically pushed you onto me? She stayed at her moms house last night after the fucking fight anyways.” negan replied with a semi annoyed tone. sighing, y/n walked over and sat next to negan on the bed. 

“negan.....we both know why i hate yelling.....how are you so calm around it.” y/n had to know. if someone even raised their voice at her shed feel her heart drop. “I know what he fucking did to me....to us and it took me a while but i eventually fucking realized if someone's yelling at me it's not the same way he did it. It's not to fucking make me feel like some small ass child but as a way of showing their upset.” negan said gulping. He never liked talking of his father. neither did y/n her memories with him made her feel like a piece of shit. she nodded slightly. “Hey wanna go get some breakfast?” negan asked her. “yea of course” y/n replied. 

Negan left to get changed leaving y/n alone. she changed into a simple tshirt and jeans. Putting on her tennis shoes. she fixed her hair and walked downstairs. she sat on the couch and waited for negan. The house was so silent. she hated when Lucille and negan fought it always felt so tense and awkward.

a few minuets later negan came down stairs. He smiled at y/n and grabbed his leather jacket. y/n followed after as they walked outside. Negan got into his car y/n following after. Negan put on Led zeppelin as they headed to the diner they usually ate at. So often in fact that the owners and them were on a first name basis. They had spent practically their whole life there. pulling up to the small place with big red glowing lights they got out the car.

y/n wasn't sure if it was the events of last night or the new of Lucille or a mix of both but something about being at the diner just made everything feel so surreal like reality wasn't actually real. they walking into the diner and suddenly y/n felt like she was 15 again. walking to their usual table the chefs immediately got to work. “shit feels weird as hell being here” negan said. “Very. i don’t get why not like we weren't here only last week.” y/n replied. “Things have all changed in a week made us feel....” negan drifted off. Something y/n had only seen happen at most 10 times. negan was never one to not have the words for something. Though she knew he had the words he just didn't want to say them. “Small” y/n finished for negan. He nodded. 

Negan wasn't one for being silent. Hell all through school teachers constantly harped on him for his obnoxiously loud and social behavior. When negan was silent y/n knew it was serious. Between the fight and Lucille's diagnosis everything has felt like a huge 180. Like the world would never be the same again. They had both known Lucille they're entire high school and adult lives they went through life together. They grew up together and now shed be gone. They wanted to hope of course everyone wants to hope that someone they love and care for won't pass but they knew the inevitable. Lucille's resulted weren't looking up and in the end they all knew what's going to happen. They sat in silence which was unusual to say the least.

“here you two. seem like you could use something a little more than your usual.” mark, their usual waiter,said. “Thanks” negan said. Mark nodded and walked off. Negan and y/n looked to see what he brought. seemed like their usual shakes. negan took a sip and his eyes widened. confused, y/n took a sip too. Feeling the taste of not only the strawberry shake but the taste of liquor filling her mouth she pulled away. “ah...you know Jim is going to ask what's up if its this bad” y/n said. negan sighed “i know....only other time they gave us this was the first time we came here after our fucking major fight” negan said.

That was probably the worst day of y/n’s life. Negans dad had banned him from seeing her but she didn't know that. they ended up having a huge fight when she got tired of being ignored. When negan yelled back about his father y/n felt her heart shatter. That same night they ended up here but didn't speak. Jim knew and told mark to give us something extra. Mark was their age and he didn't know that meant an extra desert or something so instead he added some liquor that was stored there. Jim came and placed two burgers and fries on the table and then pulled a chair to the edge of the table and sat down. “alright what is it. Yall fighting again?” he asked. “no it's not that” y/n said. “Lucille fucking has cancer” negan said and immediately sighed and placed his head into his hands. “shit...” Jim said. “i'm so sorry you two....” jim said. He poured more of the alcohol into their drinks. “think you need that.” jim said. “look I can't begin to imagine the pain you two are going through but i can say i have never met two people who care for someone so much and she cares for you two a lot too. She's lived a great life and now you two just need to spend as much time as you can with her”

They knew jim was right but there was a pain in seeing lucille. So many memories which only lead to pain because they could no longer create anymore memories. It felt like the end of a book. Jim stood up and walked off. they ate in silence only a few words spoken of small talk. once they were done negan started to place down a bill. “on the house” Jim said through the serving hatch. negan put the money back into his pocket. once back in the car negan placed his head on the steering wheel. “What the fuck do I do?” he asked mostly to the world. “Honestly....I have no clue....Think just do what jim said  y'know. take what time we have and use it as much as we can.” she replied. negan nodded. “I’m glad your here. I’ll never fucking know why you stayed after all the shit.” negan sighed. y/n reached for his hand” “because its shit we went through together. Just as we will deal with this together” she replied. she knew he didnt mean in general. He was speaking of the night that changed their relationship forever. The night she and him lost their virginity to each other. That wasn't something that needed to be talked about though not then.

Negan started up the car and drove to a secluded forest the place they went after negan had explained his situation at home getting worse. parking on the hill they got out. Sitting on the edge of the cliff looking down at the water. “I really am sorry. For everything. All the times I snapped at you, for bringing you to my house even after my dad was getting worse, for ignoring you and being too much of a fucking pussy to stand up to that asshole, and for messing with your feelings....for sleeping with you and then just leaving...” negan said. He was clearly drunk he never was sentimental and the smell of alcohol was prominent on his breath. He looked over at her and saw her face. “I mean it I may be tipsy but i know what i'm saying and its all true” he said. “thank you” she replied. She didn't know what to say.

She was never mad at negan for all that even when it happened only when he ignored her did she truly get pissed. Everything else is just a thing. She never blamed him. When his father beat her she never blamed negan. When negan ignored her she never blamed him she was mad but never blamed him. She always blamed his father. Even when they slept together she never blamed him because it was mutual. She never blamed negan so him apologizing was odd and left her confused.

They spent most the day at the cliff just thinking and being together. Negans phone rang pulling him away. “Hey” he said into his phone. “oh yea of course” he said “yep ok” he said and hung up. “um she wants to talk so...I guess i'll drop you off at your house” he said. They got back into the car and drove to her house. “I’ll see you monday” negan said. “Hey...it'll be ok negan. we’ll do this together” y/n said getting out the car. He smiled and nodded. For the first time today he smiled. She walked inside and flopped onto the couch. This was taking more of a toll on her than she originally anticipated.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 16

Title: Bruised, Not Broken

Warnings:  mental illness, memory and talk of near death experience, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“He’s struggling,” Esme says the following morning, as she leans stomach first against the kitchen island, cell phone pressed to her ear and an oversized mug of steaming tea staring invitingly up at her. “Badly.”

It’s eight thirty in the morning and she’s exhausted; a night full of broken sleep and attempting to fend off the monsters that accompany the reality of mental illness. It hadn’t been that bad in a long time; inconsolable, body wracking sobs that quickly transition into feelings of frustration and embarrassment, followed by a period of self loathing and disgust, finished off by intense rage directed at the mental illness itself and the people and experiences that directly caused it. It’s a hell of a thing to go through. Holding your six foot three, two hundred pound husband while he desperately clings to you and weeps like a terrified and wounded child. Able to do little more than offer verbal reassurance and attempt to comfort by running your fingers through his hair or rubbing his back. THAT isn’t the difficult part; the soothing comes easily and naturally and he normally responds quickly. Even the shame he feels afterwards is relatively easy to cope with. She can fend that off by staying calm and explaining why he doesn’t need to feel that way; somewhat convincing him that there’s no need for embarrassment just because he had a moment of vulnerability and weakness. Reminding him that he IS human; he’s allowed to feel hurt and pain and be frustrated and confused. But it’s the anger that takes over; all consuming and powerful and making it impossible to get through to him. She’d long ago learned that it’s best to just sit back and not say anything; let him rant and rave and vigorously pace the floor. Redirecting doesn’t work; he becomes defensive and accusatory and every little suggestion is taken as a personal attack or judgement. Silence IS golden when he goes off the deep end. Relegating herself to just listening and acknowledging what's happening to him and conveying understanding through body language and actions as opposed to words.

It always ends the same way. With pure physical and emotional exhaustion taking over. All the rage and tears expended and leaving him feeling empty and worn out; crawling back into bed and turning his back towards her in a silent request to just leave him alone. And she gives him that; a hand resting on the top of his head or upon his shoulder, yet no words ever exchanged. Staring up at the ceiling with tears of her own streaming down her face; a mixture of her own frustration and anger and pure and profound heartache. Not only hating to see the person she loves more than anything in the world hurting so badly, but detesting the fact she can’t do anything to take it all away.

“He always struggles at Christmas,” Ovi reminds her, and over the line she can hear the babbling of the littlest and the various voices belonging to characters on Sesame Street. It’s surreal at times; acknowledging just who he is now and how far he’s come. Easily remembering him as that scared and traumatized teenager and then having to remind herself that he’s a grown man; a wife and children of his own and well on his way to becoming a pediatrician.

“It’s different this year. It’s not just sadness. It’s frustration and it’s rage and it’s so much self loathing. I know we were told that this would happen; he’d go through these kinds of ups and downs. But he’s been doing so well and he’s been coping and hasn’t had a downward spiral like this in so long.”

“What is it he’s actually getting worked up over? What’s setting him off?”

“He’s been thinking a lot about Austin. He mentioned how it was bothering him how much Millie and TJ look like him. I mean, he’s always sad at Christmas. It’s always difficult for him. But it’s not like THIS.”

“Maybe he’s wondering what Austin would be like now. Or what he would have been like when he was Millie and TJ’s ages. And if he’s already down and out because of the holiday, adding that into the mix COULD make it worse.”

“It’s been years since he was THIS bad. You know how well he’s been doing. Everything’s been under control. He’s been managing it. Extremely well.”

“And he’s still going to therapy?”

“Religiously. By himself AND with me. And you know what a miracle THAT is. Him even agreeing to getting help in the first place.”

“Is he taking his meds? If he’s been off them or been skipping them…”

“I’ve checked. I went and counted them myself. There’s no extra. He’s been taking them. And I fucking hate that I even have to do that. Check up on him like that. He’s a grown man. He’s forty-seven years old and I’m treating him like he’s a child. I hate that I have to do that. I hate this whole fucking thing. This whole illness.”

“Unfortunately, he’s shown that he can’t be trusted. When it comes to meds. It’s a horrible thing to say, but…”

“This is just so unfair,” she laments, and lifts the mug of tea to her lips. “ That he’s suffering like this. He’s paid his dues, Ovi. And then some. Why does he have to KEEP paying? Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t what happened twelve and half years ago a big enough price to pay? He doesn’t deserve this. This kind of pain. I’d rather see him physically struggling than this. Because at least I know that pain will subside. But this? I fucking hate this. And I can’t see Christmas being the only thing causing this. He’s never this bad.”

“How’d he seem when he got back? From Cambodia?”

“Tired. A little sore. But he seemed fine. He was glad to be home and in great spirits. He’s been...I don’t know...he’s been Tyler. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, it seemed like there was some underlying sadness, but I just chalked it up to it being Christmas and him always have a hard time.”

“Could something have happened while he was away? Could something have triggered it?”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just that the guys he took out were pretty much the biggest pieces of garbage he’s ever encountered. And that’s saying a lot; considering how many years he’s been doing the job and how many assholes he’s taken out. I guess they didn’t stop at just drug running and weapons trafficking. Apparently they abused women. And children. In the worst ways possible.”

“That could do it. Probably hit close to home. Hearing about someone taking advantage of kids like that.”

“He did seem rather vengeful about it. Satisfied, even. That he got the chance to take out people like that. And I don’t blame him; those people are scum and they deserve to put down in the most painful way possible. And he did say that it made him think about his kids. He kind of started dwelling on it; what would happen and how he’d react if anyone touched his kids like that.”

“That’s probably what did it,” Ovi concludes. “It’s probably been just eating away at him. It’s probably all he’s been thinking about; his own kids getting victimized like that. And you know Tyler. Once something is in his head, it lives there rent free. For a long time.”

“I try to get him to focus on other things; cut him off at the pass before he even gets down that rabbit hole. Usually it works; I can distract him and get him thinking about other things. And I thought it DID work. Guess I’m not as good at all of this as I think.”

“I think you need to cut yourself some slack. If anything, you do TOO much. You take too much on. You’ve got seven kids you’re taking care of. You’re dealing with Tyler’s issues. Are you taking care of yourself? Has anyone asked you how YOU’RE doing? Because that’s just as important.”

“I’m doing okay,” she lies, and swallows a mouthful of tea. “I’m fine.”

She feels anything but; weary to her bones and longing to be home. Six years ago, Australia had become her happy place; a beautiful home backing out onto the beach and the ocean in such short walking distance. There’s a bliss that comes with being there. The feel of the sand beneath your feet and between your toes, the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the smell of salt that hangs heavily in the air. It represents everything that is beautiful and good in her life; incredible little human beings she’d had a hand in making and a man that loves her more than anything in the world and practically worships the ground she walks on. Everyone seems happier there; content with the sunshine and the warm temperatures and the close relationship with nature. The pace of life seems slower; more laid back and relaxing and not possessing the amount of stress and tension that being in the States in the middle of winter seems to bring. And while she loves it in New York -the convenience that comes with a big city and the amount of activities to keep yourself busy that are available- she’d willingly give it all up if meant it would alleviate some of the suffering that Tyler’s mental illness brings upon him.

“You realize I know you’re lying, right?" Ovi says. "That I lived with you for years and I know exactly how you get; taking on the world’s problems and not paying attention to your own. You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep ignoring yourself because you’re so busy trying to solve everyone else’s issues. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You burn yourself out and you’ll be no good to anyone. Especially the kids.”

“I don’t have time to worry about myself. Or the energy. There are far more important things going on than what I’m going through.”

“So you’re NOT fine.”

“It’s stressful. It’s Christmas. I always get like this at Christmas. It’s all those ridiculous standards my mother put on us when we were young. Everything had to look and be perfect on the surface so no one really knew just how messy it all was underneath. I can’t get out of that; that line of thinking. And yes, I DO know that’s unhealthy, Doctor Mahajan.”

Ovi chuckles. “Let’s not go tossing that title around just yet. I’ve got a few more years to go. Especially when I’m going into a speciality.”

“Listen, if I want to call my kid a doctor, I will. I’m proud of you. I know how far you’ve come. Everything you’ve gone up against and battled through. I still remember fourteen year old you. Keeping you occupied in that factory; talking about movies and girls and school.”

“I still remember when you showed up. Wondering who the hell you were and thinking ‘how the hell is someone THAT small going to help us?’. Talk about not being able to judge a book by it’s cover. Tyler was right; it is the tiny ones you have to watch out for.”

Smiling, she takes a sip of tea and then perches herself on the edge of the counter. “Do you remember when we used to go into town and get ice cream? In Telluride? When you had your last period off in high school and you’d come home early and it would just be the two of us?”

“I LOVED that place. That was like a childhood dream come true! Walls of candy and thirty flavours of ice cream and these enormous banana splits and massive sundaes. Remember that time we shared that really huge hot fudge one? With the whipped cream and the peanuts on it? I think it was called the Beast or something like that.”

“The Behemoth,” she laughs. “I DO remember that. We sat outside and shared it. We even flipped a coin to see who got to eat the cherry that was on the top.”

“I am still mad at you for winning that. I really wanted that cherry. Those are some of my best memories, you know. The things we’d do together. When Tyler was away and Millie and the twins were at school. We used to have some fun. I used to love when we went bowling. And we’d eat french fries soaked in vinegar.”

“And those really horrible hamburgers. With the flat patties. And no taste. That seems so long ago. You were what? Eighteen? If that?”

“Just turned seventeen. And that IS a long time ago. I AM twenty seven now.”

“And you have your own wife and your own kids. And you’re a doctor.”

“Not yet,” he laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Let’s not pretend it won’t happen. We both know it will. And I am; proud of you. So proud. You have come so far, Ovi. To do as well as you have after everything you went through. You would have had every right to have issues.”

“I had two people that loved me and believed in me. That made me realize I could do whatever I wanted. BE who I wanted. If I hadn’t had you guys? I wouldn’t be where I am now. I probably would have followed in his footsteps. I would have felt obligated to. Scared and pressured into it. And it would have just kept that whole vicious and toxic cycle going.”

“I know we weren’t perfect. I know Tyler and I went through some shit that you had to listen to and witness. But all we’ve ever wanted is the best for you. For you to realize how amazing you are. How much potential you have. And all we wanted to do was give you a good life. Even if at the time we didn’t have the money you once had and sometimes it seemed we didn’t have much to offer you. All we wanted was to give you a family.”

“You did. And it never mattered what you could and couldn’t give me. Materialistically speaking. All that mattered was that you loved me. And I felt that. I ALWAYS felt that.”

“It’s strange, huh? How something so crazy and scary brought us together? How complete strangers can become family? It’s surreal.”

“It wasn’t the most conventional of meetings, but it certainly turned out pretty amazing. You know what I remember the most? About back then? When we did meet? I remember being on that bridge with you. And how you refused to separate from me. You said you wouldn’t leave me. And you didn’t. Even I was slowing you down, you never abandoned me. And you didn't treat me like you were doing a job or I was some kind of package. There was no money, but you still stuck by me.”

“We were in it together. I wasn’t going to sacrifice you to save myself. That’s just not who I am. I wasn’t going to leave you. In the same way I wasn’t going to leave Tyler there. There was no way I was doing that; taking off and leaving him there to die. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. My conscience couldn’t handle it. And selfishly, I wanted him alive. I wanted to get to know him and be with him.”

“Hell of a way to profess your love for someone. Willingly sacrifice your life to try and save them. Stick your fingers in their neck to keep them alive. Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like that.”

“It was quite the ordeal,” Esme agrees, and finishes off the remains of her tea. “You know, sometimes it feels like just yesterday. Other times it feels like forty years. But if I close my eyes and I try hard enough, I can actually remember what it felt like to be there. How scared I actually was. I can hear the gunshots and the explosions and my own heart pounding in my chest. I can even still smell things; blood and gasoline and gunpowder.”

“I believe that’s something referred to as PTSD.”

“Listen buddy, you’re trying to become a pediatrician, NOT a shrink. Don’t go psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m just saying maybe it’s time you worked on what’s going on in YOUR head. Instead of worrying so much about what’s going on in Tyler’s. I know you love him. I know you’d do anything for him. You go hard core Mother Hen when he gets like this. And I know you can’t help it and I know he appreciates everything you do for him. But you know what else I know? I know he doesn’t expect you to forget about yourself while constantly taking care of him. He’s a grown man. And he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“It’s easier said than done. I can’t just let him fend for himself. I can’t just let him spiral out of control and do nothing more than hope for the best. He’s my husband. The father of my kids. And it kills me to see him like this. To know he’s in so much pain. To hear him talk about himself like he does.”

“When he gets like this, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or saying. He just lashes out. He doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes he had died five years ago. Or twelve and a half years ago. That’s just his brain telling him this shit. Do you think he’s in crisis? Do you think he’d hurt himself? Try something stupid?”

“No. I don’t think he WANTS to die. I think he just wants this over. The pain he’s in. He just wants it to stop.”

“He’s going through a depressive stage. It’s to be expected. I mean, it sucks it’s happening right now. At Christmas. What’s he doing right now?”

“Sleeping.” She looks out towards the living room; Tyler fast asleep on the couch, on his stomach with the comforter from TJ’s bed tossed over him and an arm and a leg dangling over the side. The night hadn’t gotten any better after he’d fallen asleep. Tossing and turning and having nightmares; finally coming downstairs to take up residence on the sofa and give her the chance to get a peaceful, undisturbed rest. But she hadn’t been able to. Too worried about him and wanting nothing more than to go downstairs and join him on the couch, yet knowing his current mood, her actions wouldn’t be well received. “He’s on the couch right now. It was a rough night. Nightmares.”

“About?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Which means they were about Dhaka. Most likely about the bridge. He’ll talk to me about Nathan, but not about the bridge. He avoids that like the plague. More for me than for him.”

“Have you called his therapist? Told him what’s going on? Maybe he has some suggestions; things that can alleviate some of the anxiety and the panic. Help him sleep better.”

“If it gets worse, I’ll call. This could have been a one off. It might have just been a delayed reaction to being away.”

“If it wasn’t and he DOES get any worse? Call. Don’t hesitate. Or take him to the emergency. Or call me and I’ll take him.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. He’s resting now. Which is a good sign. Last time he went into a depressive state, he didn’t sleep for a week. I’ll give it a couple days. At least get past Christmas. Once it’s over, he might perk up.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me. If he gets worse or you sense he’s spiralling out of control. I’ll be there. As soon as I can.”

“You have your own life. Riya and the kids. I can’t…”

“That’s my dad. I want to help. LET me help. It’s the least I can do. I’ve to go for now though; promised Mykayla we’d go see Santa in Central Park. She has some last minute gift ideas to drop in his lap.”

“Give her and Tabbi a kiss from Grandma Me. Tell them I love them. Riya too. I love you, Ovi. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll give them tons and hugs and kisses from you,” he promises. “And I love you too, mom.”

****

She’s sitting in the sunroom when he wakes an hour later; listening to him shuffle through the living room and into the guest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Minutes later he’s heading towards her; yawning noisily and his eyes heavy lidded. And she glances up from the laptop resting upon her thighs when he pads into the room; clad in a pair of tattered and faded plaid pyjama bottoms and no shirt. And she can’t help but think about how adorable he looks; a giant of man boasting his fair share of tattoos and scars, his hair mussed from sleep and a sporting pout of both sleepiness and annoyance.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” she cheerfully greets, and tilts her head back to smile at him. “How you feeling?”

“Alright I guess.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and then rakes his fingers through his hair. “Can you stand up for a second?”

She cocks her head to the side, a quizzical look on her face.

He manages a small smile, then runs a gentle palm over her hair and adds, “Please?”

Obliging, she places the laptop on the seat cushion next to her and then joins him at the side of the couch; immediately gathered into his embrace and pulled tightly into his chest. And she climbs onto the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order for her arms to reach their final destination; wrapped tightly around his neck. For several minutes neither of them speak; eyes closed and their warm bodies pressed together, a forearm holding her in place and a palm cradling the back of her head. He feels so good; his body hard and strong and never failing to make her feel safe. It’s never been a worry of hers; whether or not he’d be able to defend her if someone hell bent on revenge was determined to hurt his family. And she rests easy at night knowing what he’s capable of and that he’d do whatever it takes -even giving up his own life if need be- to protect her.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he gently tugs on the short, soft tresses, forcing her to pull back and look at him. She hates what she sees in his eyes; that darkness that betrays just how lost and confused and scared he actually is. A man that always has always been so strong and so fearless; fighting other peoples battles while refusing to address his own. And it breaks her heart. Knowing that the things he’s capable of -the fierceness and the tenacity and the sheer brutality he’s reined down on people- are some of the many reasons he’s now feeling so weak and vulnerable. So good at the job, yet suffering so badly because of it.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She reaches up to push limp bangs away from his forehead. Trying desperately to keep her own fears and worries from betraying her. He doesn’t need that right now; her coming undone and weeping in HIS arms. It’s time for her to be the strong one; holding him up and supporting him and never making him feel like a burden. “For what? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“The way I acted. Going off the deep end like I did. I hate that you have to see that. Hear the shit I say. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Tyler, you’re sick. It's a legitimate illness. And you know what? You’ve had an amazing five years. Barely any depressive or manic episodes. Things have been pretty stable and pretty smooth sailing. But we were told this could happen. That you could crash like you did. It’s just part of it. And you can’t help it. You don’t know what you’re doing or what you’re saying and…”

“I DO know what I’m doing. And what I’m saying. I’m not blacking out when it happens. I know exactly what’s going on when it’s happening.”

“It doesn’t mean you have control over it. Because you DON’T. It’s your brain. And when things go haywire, you can’t stop the things you do and the things you say. And you’re not to blame for that. You can’t control what is going on. And I know that’s what scares you the most; the loss of control.”

“I just hate that you have to be there. When it happens. That you have to see that shit and hear the things that come out of my mouth. I hate that it hurts you. That I hurt you.”

“You don’t hurt me. I hurt for you. That’s two entirely different things. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I know things were great and it seemed like it was completely under control. But baby, this is going to happen. Whether we want it to or not. We can’t stop it. It’s just the nature of the beast, unfortunately.”

“If I’d died five years ago...twelve and a half years ago…”

“Listen to me,” she pleads and takes his face in her hands. “DON’T go there. That is a very dark place and if you go there, you may never get back out. You are here for a reason. You’re here because you deserve to be. Because there’s people that love you. That NEED you. You helped me make seven beautiful little humans. None of them would exist if you weren’t here. Isn’t that enough? Knowing they’re alive because you are?”

“Of course it’s enough. But they shouldn’t have to live with this. YOU shouldn’t have to.”

“You are not the burden you think you are. It’s an illness. You can’t help what’s going on and you didn't do anything to cause it. It’s not your fault. Your brain didn’t do this to you because of something you did. It’s so many things. And you know what? It sucks. Huge. And I hate that this is happening to you. I hate that you are at war with your own mind every second of every goddamn day. But I won’t let you talk like that. I won’t let you say that you should have died. I won’t let you completely discount the life that you have now. Because I didn’t stick around on that fucking bridge and put my ass on the line so you could turn around and totally disregard that you were given a second chance for a reason.”

“I never asked you to stay. On that bridge. I never…”

“I stayed because you deserved to live. Because you’d paid your dues and you got your absolution. And you know what? Maybe part of it was selfish. Because I knew we could have something amazing if you stopped hating yourself long enough to let me love you. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you really wanted to die that day? That you would go back and change that if you could? Even knowing you wouldn’t have what you have now. Someone that loves you more than they love themselves. Seven kids that think the sun rises and sets on you. Would you really go back and change everything? Would you really choose to die?”

“No,” he blinks back the tears that threaten to escape. “I wouldn’t. I would choose you. And my kids. Every day.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry you’re hurting as much as you are. And I would give anything to take that all away and make you healthy. But you are not broken and I won’t let you destroy what you have. I won’t let your brain destroy YOU.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this. Take care of me like this. Do you know what this is like? How fucking embarrassing it is? That you have to take care of ME?”

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your kids. I have you seen at your absolute worst. I’ve seen you inches from death. This? This is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen and heard. You should never be embarrassed around me. I’m not going to judge you. And it's okay to be weak. To have vulnerable moments. You’re a goddamn human being.”

“I hate it. Being like that. Being weak.”

“Because you were told that it makes you less of a man. You had that drilled into your head from the time you were a little boy. And you know what? Nothing could be further from the truth. It takes a strong man to break down and admit they need help. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You do battle every second of every day with your own mind. And you always keep going. THAT’S brave.”

“I don’t feel it. I feel weak and pathetic and…”

“You are not any of those things. Look at everything you’ve been through. From the time you were a little boy until now. A weaker man would have given up a long time ago. But you? You fight back and you never give up and get back on your feet time and time again. That is strength, Tyler. The fact you suffer like you do but you get up every day and you smile when all you want to do is cry and you love your family with everything you have and bust your ass to make them happy even though you feel like you’re drowning. THAT? That is so far from being weak and pathetic.”

Sighing heavily, he glances away; swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his throat.

Pressing her fingers into his cheek, she turns his face back towards her. “I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And I fell in love with you knowing how messed up things were and what kind of torment and pain you were carrying. None of that matters to me. Because I know who you are outside of all of that. I know that you’re loving and you’re caring and you have a heart that’s even bigger than your body. I know how deep and powerfully you love DESPITE everything you’ve been through. I didn’t back away then, and I’m sure as hell not backing away now. So you can try as hard as you want to push me away, but you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

“That’s not so bad,” he chides through threatening tears. “I mean, I can think of way worse fates.”

“I will love you and take care of you until your last breath. And you know what? I’ll love you even after that.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“That’s your brain trying to convince you of that. And I know its voice is deafening and it seems impossible to ignore it, but you’ve got to try and shut it out. Concentrate on what I’m saying to you. Because what I’m telling you? It’s the truth. I’d never lie to you. So you need to pay attention to me, okay? And the things I say. I am way stronger and more tenacious than that voice inside of your head. Can you do that? Listen to me? Because I would never….ever...steer you wrong. You know that, right?”

“I do. I do know that. And I trust you. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t trust my own brain anymore.”

“Then just rely on mine. Rely on ME. To give you the truth. Can you do that?”

“I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. Now…” she lays her hands on his chest and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “...you hungry? What do you want for breakfast? I know I’m not actually the top chef YOU are, but I do make a mean veggie omelette. And you do like my french toast.”

“I thought maybe we could go out. To that little diner a few blocks over. The one that makes those Belgian waffles you like so much.”

“With the strawberries and the homemade whipped cream? I definitely could go for that. Are you sure though? That you’re up to it? It was a pretty rough night and…”

“I’m fine. Or I will be. It’s sunny out. The fresh air would do me some good I think. And we only have so much time without the kids left and I really do like our alone time. Outside of the bedroom.”

“So you don’t like the alone time in the bedroom?” she teases.

“I never said that. I LOVE that time.”

“A breakfast date with my favourite human sounds perfect.” Reaching up, she combs her fingers through his hair, pushing the longer strands off his forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know that? How hard you fight. A lesser man would have given up a long time ago.”

“I’ve got way too much to live for. Besides, I can’t go offing myself and then have to bear witness to you dating another guy. Or worse, marrying one.”

“Never going to happen. You’re it for me. There won’t be anyone after you. You’re stuck with me until the bitter end, Mister.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he takes her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

*****

“I talked to Ovi earlier,” Esme says, as they sit in the back corner of the diner. Sipping steaming mugs of tea; joined hands resting on the table top; fingers laced together and his thumb repeatedly brushing against hers.

The booth is a safe distance away from the main hub of activity; crowds of people and excessive noise caused by the rattle of dishes and numerous conversations and boisterous laughter taking place at the same time. It’s important to avoid any and all triggers, or to at least find ways to lessen the effects of something that could bring on ‘an episode’. On the short walk she’d noticed the tell tale signs that depression isn’t the only concern; the hyper-vigilance associated with his PTSD quickly creeping in. Exhibiting anxiety if he felt pedestrians were crowding around him on sidewalks or when waiting to cross the street. Glaring at anyone he felt was staring at him or in somehow posing even the slightest bit of a threat towards her; jaw clenching as he tightly brought her into his side or put a hand on the back of her neck while drawing him in front of her. And the glances cast over his shoulder; eyes constantly scanning for anything and everything that could be considered suspicious or threatening, visibly tensing at every slam of a car door.

It’s both disheartening and worrisome; to see him regressing back to old behaviours after years of coping so well. Being off the street has helped; his shoulders not as tense, jaw no longer clenched, eyes not surveying the crowd with so much apprehension and simmering anger. But he still insists on being the one to sit facing the door; able to physically handle a threat if one came in their direction. And while she knows those chances are rare and his brain is far from thinking rationally, she doesn’t argue or try to change his mind; squeezing his arm and giving him a reassuring smile before switching seats.

Tyler doesn’t look up from the menu open in front of him. “About me?”

“Yes,” she admits, and refuses to allow him to pull his hand away from hers. “I told him what happened last night. About how you’re struggling.”

“Why? Why would you tell him? He’s got his own shit to deal with. He doesn’t need to hear about what’s going on with me.”

“I told him because he loves you. Because you’re his dad. And he worries about you. We both do.”

“He’s got his own life. His own wife, his own kids. Don’t bother him with that bullshit.”

“You and your issues are NOT bullshit. And you’re part of his life. You have been since he was fourteen years old. We took him in and we raised him and we gave him a family. And he loves you. He has every right to know what’s going on with you. And you know what? I have the right to have someone I can turn to. When I’m struggling.”

“I don’t mean to be such a burden on you. Make you struggle so much.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. I need someone I trust to help me, help you. And honestly, I need someone I can talk to. About all of this. Because it kills me inside that you’re struggling and you’re in so much pain. And I don’t want to put that on you, Tyler. Can you just accept that you’re surrounded by people who love you? That we’re trying to help? Let us love you, okay?”

Sighing, he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

“We’re just worried about you. We just want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine in a couple days. Once Christmas is over. I’ll act like everything is okay around the kids. So it doesn’t ruin things for them. I just need the holiday over with. I’ll be okay once it is.”

“I’m sure you will.” She hopes she sounds more confident than she feels. “It’s always a hard time. The holidays. And you know, seeing the kids so happy Christmas morning will help too. You know how cute that is; how excited they are, their faces all lit up when they see all the presents. It’s kind of hard NOT to smile when you see all of that. So that gives you something to look forward to, right?”

“You know what I’m NOT looking forward to? How many times they wake us up between midnight and five am.”

“It felt like every half hour last year.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been up until two in the morning putting together that stupid dollhouse we got for Addie and Brooklyn. Having to decorate every damn room and put out all those little forks and knives and plates and shit.”

“You were a pro. I was quite impressed how those huge hands of yours dealt with teeny tiny cutlery. And I have to say, you have quite the eye when it comes to interior design. Maybe you should be in charge of picking out decor for the house from here on out.”

“That’s not the deal. You pick shit out and I live with it. Or you tell me what needs to be painted and what colour you want and I do it. Or I carry heavy shit. I’m happy with that; our arrangement. What else did he say? Ovi?”

“He said that Tabbi is up on her feet and starting to cruise the furniture. Finally sleeping through the night. Remember those days? The relief that comes with THAT?”

“We didn’t really get to experience that until Takota and Brookie started sleeping through the night. They’re last so we didn’t have any babies after them to worry about. The rest of them?”

“One started sleeping through the night, another baby was born. We were pretty busy those first seven years.”

“You know, you could have always said ‘no’ a few times. You didn’t always have to put out every time I asked you to.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on the fun? You can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

He grins. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“And Mykayla starts preschool next week. Can you believe that? Our first grand baby is going to be in preschool! It seems like she was just born. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact I have two grandkids.”

“For what it’s worth, I think we’re pretty sexy grandparents. You’re a damn fine grandpa.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I don’t care. You ARE a grandpa. You ARE grandpa Tyler.”

“Makes me feel so fucking old. Way older than I actually am.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you’re the hottest grandpa around. I’d still do ya.”

“Yeah? Well I definitely wouldn’t say no to you. You’re kinda hot yourself. For a grandma.”

“What about when I’m the grandma who can barely see or hear and my hair is snow white and my body a total dumpster fire?”

“You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

Smiling, she squeezes his hand and then smiles at the waitress who returns to refill his coffee and take their orders. For several minutes they sit in silence; his thumb sliding down to the base of her wrist and continuing its slow and methodical caress, eyes flicking back and forth as they constantly survey the surroundings and their fellow diners. She’s seen that look before; cautious and wary, as if expecting a threat to announce its presence any second. And it’s a side that she hasn’t seen in years; since extensive therapy began to help control the hyper-vigilance and paranoia.

“Hey…” she taps the toe of a boot against his shin in order to grab his attention. “...you okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages a smile; that half assed turning up of one corner of his mouth. “I’m good.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like an armed robber is going to come barging and start shooting up the place. Do you want to get our order to go? Eat at home? Where you’re more comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable here. I’m fine, Me. Honest.”

“You are NOT fine. You are far from fine. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. I’m safe, Tyler. Nothing is going to happen. I’m with you. Which means nothing or no one can hurt me. I trust you. I know you can protect me if you have to. I am one hundred percent safe because I am with YOU.”

“What if I can’t? Protect you?”

“You can. You’ve always been able to. Nothing’s changed. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m here with you and everything is right in the world. Just try and relax, okay?”

“I’m not who I was back then. When we met.”

“I don’t expect you to be. And you know what? You’re better than you were. You’re stronger and you’re healthier and I trust you one hundred percent. There’s nothing you can’t handle. Nothing you can’t beat. Everything is fine. I’M fine. You need to just try and relax, alright? Nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I’m with you.”

The tension slightly lifts; the stiffness in his shoulders easing and the frantic bouncing of his leg finally stopping. But she notices the way his hand shakes when he lifts when he lifts the coffee mug to his lips.

“Do you want to go? Do you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack?”

“No. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Here…” reaching into her purse, she briefly rummages through it and pulls out a small vial of pills she’s grabbed from the stash in the lock box in the pantry; snapping off the lid and dropping two in her palm. “...just a couple. It’ll take the edge of. Calm you down. Take them. Please.”

He obliges, plucking the tablets from her palm and placing them under his tongue and allowing them to resolve. The silence that follows is nerve wracking. Feeling her own heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watches him from across the booth; an elbow resting on the table , eyes closed and his palm pressed against his forehead. And she’s unsure how much time has actually passed when he takes a sharp intake of breath; eyes opening and his forearm coming to rest on the formica.

“Good?” she asks, and softly runs her fingers over his. “You alright?”

“Better.”

“You’ll be okay. In a few minutes, you’ll be right as rain. You’re doing good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch as he attempts a smile. “I was thinking that maybe we should go home. Earlier than we were going to. Maybe a couple days into New Years instead of a couple weeks.”

“Is that what you want to do? Go home?”

“Yeah…” he struggles to hold back a flood of tears; uttering a string of profanities and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed. Just pretend that no one else exists but me. That no one else is here. Just listen to my voice. You’re fine. It’s just your brain, Tyler. Ignore what it is telling you and pay attention to what I’m saying. I’m okay. I’m safe. Because I’m with you. Nothing is going to happen. There’s no one following us, there’s no out to get you, there’s no one that’s going to hurt me. There’s no threat. Everything is okay. Alright?”

Nodding, he takes a deep intake of breath and then releases it slow. “I want to go home.”

“Home as in our place here or…?”

“Home, home. Australia. I want to go home. As soon as we can. I NEED to go home.”

“I’ll change our flight plans. When we get back to the townhouse. I’ll call and set everything up. We’ll leave on the second, okay?”

“But the kids might be pissed. They might…”

“I’ll think of something to tell them. They don’t need to know what’s going on. Don’t worry about that, alright? I’ll take care of everything. I mean, if you really wanted to, we could leave earlier. Ovi knows you’re struggling and…”

“I can’t miss his wedding. I’m the best man. That’s my kid.”

“And he’d understand. If you needed to get out, he would totally have your back. Believe me, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t handle it here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and I’ll get through it. We’ll go to the wedding and we’ll have a good time and we’ll have our mommy and daddy only night. Then we can leave. On the second.”

“Okay,” Esme says, and reaches across the table to wipe away an errant tear that slips down his face. “You’re going to be okay.” she promises. “You always are. You’ve fought back against way worse.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his. “Enough for both of us.”

[youngtherestless]

*****TRIGGER WARNING-R*PE*****

If this post gets removed for the r word I will go fucking apeshit

This type of content may be uncomfortable for some people, but if even one person who needs to hear it, hears it, it's worth it to me.

I'm so tired, man. I can't tell you how many times I've surfed through fanfics and gotten halfway through one before I realized it's a coercive rape fic and I have to exit. I don't even have a problem with noncon/dubcon WHEN ITS TAGGED AND ACKNOWLEDGED AS BEING RAPE. I need to be able to actively choose to expose myself to such content, not just have it sprung on me.

The prevalence of unlabeled coercive rape in fanfics and fanarts is not acceptable. At all. I know it's a known issue, and is pretty common across a lot of fandoms and even is canon in some mangas (especially gay ones, or ones in which the female pursues the male, which contributes to the myth that men can't be raped), but I feel like people kind of ignore it and hope it will go away, or think that its not that big of a deal. But it cant be ignored! It is a big deal! It affects both men and women, and it needs to be addressed and fixed! I can't even tell you how many times irl I have been discussing sexual history with someone (both guys and girls) and they would be like "oh, that's happened to me. I didn't realize that was rape I just felt bad about it" which is not a good thing to believe as either a victim or potential abuser!

And I'm not even saying that the writers/artists are to blame! They may even think that the behavior they're describing is normal, which to me, says they could possibly be a victim of this type of abuse or it was normalized to them at some point for other reasons, and they are either trying to work through trauma or just don’t know its wrong.

As a victim of coercive rape myself I can tell you it is incredibly insidious in its ways of convincing the victim that its their fault for not trying harder to get away/telling them they secretly wanted it because of the way their body reacted (which is 100% biologically untrue), and when i see people describing it in that way I really want them to realize the harm they're doing not only to themselves but others as well by encouraging this logic.

Honestly every time I see it happening in fics or fanart from now now on I'm just gonna start pointing it out by either comment or dm no matter how awkward it is because it needs to be labeled and acknowledged as not normal or healthy. It makes me really sad and upset to see it portrayed as "oh they didn't know how much they liked sex until they were forced to experience it and their body reacted so obviously they secretly wanted it". Or even worse “they eventually ‘accepted it’ so it was consensual from then forward”. NO. NO. NO. NO.

Even IF the person actually did "secretly want it", that does not excuse this behavior. People who are coming to terms with their sexuality and/or kinks deserve all the time and patience in the world to help them become comfortable with the idea and able to discuss it with their partner and move forward with it TOGETHER.

Victim blaming and grooming is such a huge part of rape culture and is part of the reason why many people don't report and abusers don't receive justice. This is something that needs to be hammered into the minds of fans, in particular younger ones who use fanfic as a way of exploring sexuality. Write about and read about abuse all you want, just make sure you're aware that its not healthy, and that you do not normalize it! It can make you part of the problem. It helps rapists live free and create more victims.

TO THE VICTIMS: you didn't deserve it. Even if you were standing naked in front of the person, even if you have had consensual sex with that person hundreds of times already, the lack of a distinct "yes" is ALL the "fighting" you should have had to do. Whether the other person even knows what they did was wrong or not, you are absolutely not to blame, and you are not broken or gross for any resulting sexual hangups or even fantasies that can result from this type of trauma.

TO EVERYONE: whether in fiction or real life, whether they're strangers, married, or anywhere in between, if one person has to "convince" the other to have sex - physically, verbally, threateningly - in any way, ITS RAPE. 100%.

***The ONE and ONLY exception is if a couple practices consensual non-consent which NEEDS to be discussed in depth beforehand and carried out in an agreed way with safewords (I also very much do not recommend cnc for anyone under 18, btw. there are far far too many risks involved. I did not age anything else in this post because unfortunately you can be a victim at any age).

Thanks for reading, please feel free to dm me about anything.

Edit: I added some things I felt are important

[jbbuckybarnes]

Human Safe Zone

Description: You’re being harassed at an event in NYC and a group of men help you. Prompt: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.” Pairing: Sebastian x Reader Length: ~2,3k Warnings: verbal abuse, sexual abuse threats

M A S T E R L I S T

You were at a networking event slash after party of yet another big event in New York City. By now you didn’t even know anymore why you got invited to these. Sure, you were in a few little roles in movies and more or less an Instagram model, but being at these parties always was different. You liked it but didn’t feel like you were worthy of being invited. At least you got used to celebrities being normal people with flaws by now and didn’t have to fangirl over everyone that sat or stood near you. Sadly, you also learned about how weird and sometimes disgusting privileged people were.

“Hey doll, can I buy you a drink?” a man you’ve never seen before but was clearly somehow part of the white, rich and disgusting club, approached you. “No thanks, I plan on leaving soon.” you gave a polite smile and looked straight forward again. “Want me to bring you home, darling?” And there was the disgusting part of white, rich and disgusting. “No, I’m meeting some friends after this,” you lied. In moments like this acting classes were the best decision in your life. “Are you here alone?” he started giving you a smirk that made you uncomfortable. “Listen. I’m really not interested. If you wanted to have a nice conversation you wouldn’t ask such creepy questions.” you said with a strong voice. “C’mon princess, no need to get angry.” he tried touching your shoulder and you shoved his hand away. “Aw, you didn’t even give me a chance to be nice to you, doll.” he chuckled. Creep. “Fuck off,” you said in a sharp tone. Now there were a few people slowly starting to notice this development. “C’mon doll, you just need someone to treat you right.” he got pushy. “Does my mood look like you’re doing that right now?” you answered. “No, but it will after I’m finished with you.” he grabbed your wrist.

“Stop touching me or I will start screaming.” you tried to get your hands back to yourself. “Shut up, little bitch.” he wanted to continue but two men were suddenly behind him now. “You heard her, dude. Leave her alone.” one of them said. Buff, tall, frowning at the man. Instead of leaving you alone he tried leaving with you and the two men became four. They were not having it and broke the stranger and you apart. There almost was a fight but the security of the party was there quickly and got the man outside with three of your protectors. The only words you heard from them were the words ‘abuse’ and ‘police’. You didn’t even notice who the group of protectors were and that you were crying. The shock had gotten to you by now and the only man left from the group that protected you came to you.

He was carefully hugging you in the most non-threatening way and you started sobbing. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go,” a voice that you were now recognizing whispered into your ear. “Th-thank you.” came out between sobs. He broke apart the hug a little and looked down on you. “Let’s get you into some fresh air.” His thumbs were wiping away your tears. By now you fully recognized that the person being so careful with you was Sebastian. You had one or two shared friends but you never really spoke to him at these events. You never spoke to many people at any of these events. You both sat down on the stairs in front of the building and you slowly calmed down from the crying. “You’re good at verbally defending yourself.” There was a soft smile forming on his face. “Y/N, right?” he asked and you nodded still a bit too paralyzed for words. His hand was on your back and definitely had a soothing effect on you. “Just breathe for a few minutes.” his voice came through again and you turned his suggestion into practice. With your eyes closed, you took deep breaths and calmed your body down further. Exhaustion slowly washed over you from all the adrenaline you had just experienced. You sleepily set down your head on his shoulder and weakly said, “I don’t wanna be alone right now.” “I’m here. I’ll keep you save. Promise.” his thumb caressed your upper arm.

"Excuse me, you're Miss Y/L/N, right?" a police officer was pulling you out off your heartbeat slowly stabilizing. "Yes," you answered. "I'll have to ask you some questions," he said taking out everything he'd need for that. He went through all the questions, took a picture of your arms where some light red marks were still left and then gave you a card with all the ways to contact the police department through. "Goodnight and stay safe, Miss Y/L/N." You turned around to lean on Seb again who had stayed there the whole time and rubbed your back when you got worked up. "Can you bring me home or something?" you mumbled. "Of course. Do you need to eat or drink something before tho? I'm sure that panic just did some stuff to you." he looked down at you. "I could go for some good pizza right now." you chuckled weakly and got a smile back.

"Seb, Y/N. Everything okay?" the man you now could identify as Chris was walking towards you with Anthony and Scott right behind him. You gave a weak nod while sitting up correctly again. “Let’s bring her home,” Seb said to his friends slowly standing up and got nods back before he and Chris helped you up. Surrounded by men keeping you save you walked block for block. You insisted on not driving since that made you feel unsafe right now. They started talking about the party about half a block in. “It wasn’t even a good party,” Scott muttered. “No flip cup game, not a good party.” Chris chimed in and got a laugh. “I wouldn’t even go to them if there weren’t some nice situations ever now and then,” Anthony added. “I just feel super out of place, to be honest. I’m not a celeb, I post pictures online and did a few side roles. I either get the weird people flirting with me or sometimes a decent girl talking to me.” you explained how this felt for you. “I’d consider you pretty close to celebrity level.” Seb looked down at you. “Nah, thanks. I’d like to keep my privacy how it is. I take only side roles on purpose.” you made a grimace. “You’re good though.” Anthony complimented you. “I guess.” you automatically shrugged your shoulders.

You were walking past the pizza place you always ordered takeout at. “Let’s all get pizzas and eat them at my place. Don’t wanna be alone tonight.” you were back to normal but still insanely exhausted and a bit shaky on your legs. “It’s on me!” Chris almost yelled and you sent a grateful smile his way. A margarita, a funghi, a BBQ and two New York style pizzas were in cartons and your hands a few minutes later and already lifted your mood. “How long is it from here?” Anthony asked. “A bit more than a block.” you smiled at him. “Torture.” was mumbled back with a sad face towards his pizza box. “Sooo…” Seb started and had your attention, “any new roles coming up?” “One. In a romcom. Just a few scenes but a fun character.” you smiled and already fished for your keys inside of your bra. Your slightly shaky hands took two tries to find the keyhole before you opened the door to the high rise building and then your actual apartment door. “Welcome, I haven’t cleaned in a few days. Hope you don’t mind,” you said throwing the keys to the side and went towards the kitchen to get plates. Not without throwing your fancy shoes across the floor. Once you came back the group of men had sat down on the couch and around the coffee table in the living room. You handed out plates, forks, and knives carefully before slowly opening your own pizza box. “Oh, someone is really hungry.” Anthony laughed at your hungry and desiring eyes at your food. “Shut up, I just burned through the pasta from noon because of that dumb asshole,” you said not offended but stern. “I love when you get shut down by girls.” Seb laughed at his friend. “Just wait till you are the victim.” his eyes narrowed and a giggle escaped both of them.

About halfway into the pizza, you could feel your body get back to normal again with the new energy it just got. And about three quarters in you were full and stood up to go to the kitchen and pack the pizza into the fridge. You heard someone come in behind you and turned around to see Sebastian. “Are you okay?” he asked coming to a hold right in front of you. “Tired, a bit unsafe, but yeah. I guess I’m good. Don’t know how that’s going to go when you’re all gone.” you nervously bit your lower lip. “If you want me to stay here, I wouldn’t mind.” his hands landed in his pant pockets. You nodded, “I’ll think about it.”

After another hour of funny conversations and distraction from the boys, the Evans siblings needed to go. “Need to be up early.” they stood up and went to the door and you came with them. “Thank you again.” you hugged them both. “You can always come to us when you feel unsafe, alright?” Chris rubbed your back before a final goodbye was interchanged and they were gone. You turned around again to see the two boys that were left bickering like little boys and a small smile started growing on your face. They reminded you of you and your best friend from high school. Always having a good time and just overall being a good team. Almost a bit intimidated to join and ruin the mood you sat down on your couch beside them. “You alright, babygirl?” Anthony asked in his usual funny way and you sent a small smile and a nod. You’d rather listen to them with your arms around your legs and your head on your knees. Anything keeping you from that weird lonely feeling creeping through your body. Being invaded like that really fucked with how vulnerable you were.

With a look at his watch, Anthony needed to leave a while later and you ended up alone with Seb. “You want me to stay?” his soft expression with his head dipping to the side made you smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. I feel very…” you tried to find words while playing with the seams on your clothes. “Exposed.” you heard him say and he took your hand that was playing with your clothing. “It’s...I don’t like it,” you looked down to escape his eyes. “It’s gonna get better with time, promise.” he now had both your hands in his and tried to look into your eyes. “Can we...maybe watch a movie? I don’t wanna sleep right now.” you were almost whispering. “Of course.” he said with a grin and chuckling, “What kind of movie?” “I have a new documentary about ancient stuff on my Netflix list.” you smiled at him before leaning past him to grab the remote on the table.

About halfway into the documentary exhaustion got you and you fell asleep cuddled up by his side. He continued watching but regularly looked down to check if you were still sleeping. There was a frown on your face and it definitely wasn’t relaxed sleep. That got very clear and obvious when you started moving in your dream, clearly reliving what had happened to you earlier. He gently shook you awake and your innocent eyes filled up with tears. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go,” he said pulling you as close as he could and capturing your whole body with his arms. “What if you wouldn’t have been there?” your small sounding voice said. “But we were. And even if we weren’t...you would’ve yelled loud enough for people to save you. Promise.” a soothing small kiss landed on your forehead. “You promise a lot of things.” you huffed trying to lighten your own mood. “Cause I know there always is a way.” he smiled at your head going up and corrected your hair. “Thank you.” your smile was genuine and open. “For what?” he mirrored the expression. “For being such a gentle soul.” you cuddled yourself closer to him again. There was a pleasant silence in the room, only the paused Netflix screen was still on. “You know...I don’t know if it’s appropriate to ask this,” he interrupted the silence after a while, “but I always thought you were great and although this is the worst circumstances to get to know each other I’m still oddly grateful for it...you know, not in a weird way. I hope you get what I mean.” He was rambling and you looked up, “And?” “I’d really like to, um,” he scratched his neck, “go on a date with you...only if you want. This is probably incredibly bad timing and weird but...yeah.” A nervous lopsided smile and waiting eyes were confronting you. “Uh, I...yeah, I...I think I’d like that,” you said, not really knowing how to handle this situation. The only dates you ever went on were with strangers, all your past relationships formed from friendships, this was an odd in between. With a grin on his face, he pulled you closer into another hug again. “I promised, I won’t let you go.” he caused giggle from both sides. “Dork,” you whispered before slowly dozing off again.

M A S T E R L I S T

[mari-beau]

PSA: IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID & SEEK MEDICAL FOLLOW-UP, KNOW YOUR PATIENT RIGHTS TO REFUSE UNNECESSARY TESTS

ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE SUBJUGATED TO THE AMERICAN HEALTH SYSTEM

IF YOU HAVE CONCERNS ABOUT YOUR COVID RECOVERY, DO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION!! IT IS IMPORTANT. YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUS COMPLICATIONS.

BUT DESPITE ALL THE MOCKERY AND DERISION FROM THE MEDICAL FIELD, DO SOME RESEARCH YOURSELF (FROM LEGIT MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTION’S WEBSITES/SOURCES)

DOCTORS ARE JUST PEOPLE. AND A LOT OF PEOPLE ARE NOT THAT SMART. (AND YOUR DOCTOR IS NOT NECESSARILY SMARTER OR MORE CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE VIROLOGY AND BIOLOGY OF YOUR SITUATION THAN YOU ARE). QUESTION THINGS. MAKE THEM EXPLAIN AND JUSTIFY THEIR ACTIONS.

MAKE THEM LISTEN TO YOU!

MY STORY HAS BEEN PLACED BELOW A BREAK

Because TRIGGER WARNING for people with Hospital/Medical PTSD

I tested positive for COVID-19 well over a month ago. I got moderately sick. I did not need to be hospitalized (thankfully). And was able to manage it with cold medicine. It was in my lungs. I had a high fever that cycled on and off for days, cough, shortness of breath, fatigue. By day 11, I was recovered enough and deemed no longer infectious by Public Health’s certified nurses (who know and understand COVID guidance/pathology).

It still took me awhile to completely bounce back. And surprise-surprise, my work is extremely stressful (I work for a local Public Health Department, the ones tasked with doing all of the non-direct patient care pandemic work, such as case investigations, quarantining, helping the public, inspections, answering every single question of every single member of the public). So it was taking me longer to be at normal levels of health. And I was noticing I’d be fine for days, but when I started to get a little worn down from work, I’d start coughing again.

My coworkers were concerned and had one of our nurses encourage me to seek follow-up in case I had a secondary infection as a result of my COVID infection, such as bronchitis or pneumonia. I tried calling the practice where my doctor used to be (living in rural area, the doctors maybe last a year before leaving), but the receptionist said they had no providers until following Monday (I was calling on a Wednesday). She was also baffled by my spiel:

“I tested positive for COVID-19 on November 24. I was cleared by Public Health on Dec. 4. I feel fine most of the time, but when I get tired, I start coughing again. I would like to be checked out to make sure I don’t have bronchitis or pneumonia or lung damage.”

I’m not so sure what’s so difficult about that. I had to prompt her... Should I call back on Monday then to see if I can get checked out? 

My coworker used to be practice manager for that group of practices. And she was like WTF? and called over to confirm that they had no provider covering the practice through the New Year’s weekend. 

But to be honest, it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d gotten through to them, because come to find out, the whole “Health Systems” conglomerate in our region funnels anyone who has had COVID to the Main Hospital ER. My mother’s doctor, who she asked to follow up because she is older and had concerns about complications, was likewise sent to the “COVID unit” in the hospital, despite the fact that she was no longer infectious and in recovery.

Anyway, the nurse at work encouraged me to get checked out that day. So I called the Urgent Care. Again, the receptionist was baffled by my spiel. As was the nurse she had speak to me. The nurse informed me I had to go to the main hospital.

Fine. I thought. I’d just get my lungs checked out and get it over with. If I had a secondary infection, they could give me a steroid inhaler or stronger cough medicine or something. 

WRONG!

I show up to the Hospital, they funnel you through precautions (which is great). I give my spiel to the receptionist, adding on how I tried my primary care and urgent care, and they told me I had to come here. They give me to intake person, who asks me the standard questions and checks my vitals.

My heartrate is high.

I have panic attacks in hospitals. I can’t even visit people in the hospital. It’s not a conscious issue. And it’s completely outside of my control. I can attempt to manage with anxiety coping mechanisms, but to be honest it doesn’t work. 

I inform the intake nurse/doctor/whoever that my stress levels have been high from work, specifically Monday I was in the call center getting verbally abused by our wonderful community members all day long. And that I have panic attacks in hospitals. And was likely in early stages of panic attack. He replied to me that was on Monday and it’s Wednesday (someone who had no clue how anxiety works). And I of course sounded perfectly calm then, because part of how I cope is trying to keep my shit together and not freak out.

They admit me for having a high heart rate. (BECUASE DOCTORS DON”T LISTEN, ESPECIALLY TO WOMEN).

SO, SUMMARY SO FAR: I HAVE BEEN ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL FOR HAVING PANIC ATTACKS IN THE HOSPITAL WHEN I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO CHECK MY LUNGS.

They stick me in a negative pressure COVID room because I had COVID a month ago (and they don’t seem to understand I am no longer infectious, or how viruses work; yes, some people remain very sick and infectious longer; I meet all the criteria of no longer being infectious). 

I have to change into hospital gown, etc. Doctor checks my lungs. Everything sounds fine. My 02 stats are 100%. 

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN RELEASED AT THIS POINT. I SHOULD HAVE REFUSED ALL FURTHER PROCEDURES AND TESTS. BUT I HAVE HOSPITAL-INDUCED ANXIETY AND AM IN NO STATE OF MIND TO QUESTION ANYTHING BECAUSE I’M BARELY KEEPING MY SHIT TOGETHER. NO WONDER I’M FUCKING TACHYCARDIC.

Next up is the nurses, come to hook me up to the heart monitor and EKG. 

AND DO THE ONE OTHER THING THAT CAN SEND ME INTO A FULL ANXIETY ATTACK. 

They ignore me when I tell them they need to use a pediatric needle on my veins. All of my mom’s family has small, hard to find, fragile veins. THEY BLOW OUT TWO OF MY VEINS IN ONE ARM WHILE A LAB PERSON IS TRYING TO DRAW BLOOD OUT OF MY OTHER ARM. 

I AM FINE WITH VACCINES/SHOTS. AND IF THEY CAN GET A NEEDLE IN AND DRAW BLOOD QUICK, I CAN KEEP MY SHIT TOGETHER. I HAVE NO CONSCIOUS FEAR OF NEEDLES OR BLOOD. BUT IF THEY MESS AROUND WITH MY ARMS TOO LONG, IT SENDS ME INTO FULL HYPERVENTILATING, CRYING HYSTERICALLY, LEG THRASHING PANIC ATTACK.

ALL THE WHILE, I’M APOLOGIZING TO THEM. AND HATING MYSELF FOR MY REACTION. 

The nurse keeps trying to comfort me as she blows out another vein in my arm for an IV I DID NOT NEED. I keep saying “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid I get like this.” As I’m sobbing and hyperventilating. 

The nurse gives up after blowing out several veins in my arm when doing the saline wash. (This does not pardon me, but only buys me a reprieve). 

Lab Guy exits with some blood he managed to get out of one of my arms. 

I have been repeatedly questioned by doctors and nurses so far about having had another COVID test. I tell them no, since I can test positive for up to 3 months afterwards, it’s quite literally pointless.

THEY GIVE ME ANOTHER COVID TEST. 

My first one when I was actually sick, was just mildly uncomfortable. THIS TIME THEY MANAGE TO GIVE A PRETTY SPECTACTULAR BLOODY NOSE. AND PROMPTLY LEAVE THE ROOM AS I CALL ‘MY NOSE IS BLEEDING’ AFTER THEM. 

I HAVE TO USE THE MASK I WORE IN TO TRY TO STAUNCH THE NOSEBLEED. 

I THINK IT WAS HERE I HAD MY FULL ON PANIC ATTACK. IF YOU HAVE THEM, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BY FULL-ON. I WAS ALONE. (WHICH I PREFER BECAUSE THEY EMBARRASS ME).

A different nurse finally comes back for some other reason (I don’t remember now). I ask her from some tissues. She hands me some paper towels. She leaves. She returns, gives me a washcloth to clean all the blood off my face and neck. Another nurse is with her. 

ROUND TWO OF DRAWING BLOOD & IV ATTEMPT

These ones do better. But I am calmer having just had the full-on panic attack. They have to use veins in my biceps to draw the blood. And finally get an IV in. (Mind you, it’s an IV I really didn’t need). They give me a bag of fluids and some anti-anxiety/sedative to try to bring my heart rate down (letting me go home would’ve worked far better).

They’ve already done the EKG. They put me through a CT scan and echocardiogram. And finally a chest x-ray (which would’ve been in the more necessary scope of treatment/evaluation for my complaint/concern about residual lung damage).

There’s a good wait time in between these.

I was already hydrated. I drink a lot of water. And so I had to pee very badly. 

Because, guess what the COVID test came back positive and they’ve stuck the official notice on the negative pressure COVID room door,  I have to use the little commode chair thing in the room. The nurse puts a little bedpan/measuring catch thingy in it. She takes some of my urine to test (so yet another unnecessary test). 

They give me another bag of fluids. Which makes me have to pee very badly again. I try to call a nurse. My bladder’s about explode. But I’m hooked up to machines and not sure if I’m allowed to leave the hospital bed. She glances in at me. Tells me it’s okay to go. 

I fill up the little bedpan. 

I will have to pee very badly again by the end of this ordeal, and have more than half a mind to go pee/overflow the bedpan into the rest of the ‘commode’.

But finally whatever doctor assigned to me comes back, says everything is fine and I can be released.

Mind you, my heartrate has remained low 100s for hours and hours (a little high for me, but I was in a fucking hospital and having panic attacks and my anxiety was still quite high).

I wait another half an hour for a nurse to come and disconnect me from everything and do a ‘verbal’ discharge. 

SO MANY TIMES I HAD WANTED TO YANK EVERYTHING OFF ME AND LEAVE. I NOW WISH I HAD DONE PRECISELY THAT.

My parents showed up and were waiting for me in the parking lot to drive me home and drive my truck home. My mom said it looked like I had been through a war. She’d never seen me look so terrible.

I went into work that morning feeling worn down from work. And I was coughing a little. I came out of the hospital 8 hours later feeling the worst I have in my life. Worse than when I was feverish and struggling to breath from COVID infection.

The public health nurses at my workplace advised me to file a complaint against the hospital. They agreed/informed me that what the hospital did was medically unnecessary.

I HAVE BRUISES ALL UP AND DOWN MY ARMS. I HAVE BURST CAPILLARIES UNDER MY EYES AND ACROSS MY CHEEKS FROM CRYING SO HARD. I HAVE WOKEN UP EVERY MORNING SINCE WITH A TIGHT KNOT OF ANXIETY IN MY CHEST. MY HEART RATE (WHICH I CHECK WITH A PULSE OXIMETER) HAS NOT RETURNED TO ITS NORMAL LOWER LEVELS. IT HAS BEEN FIVE DAYS.

SUMMARY:

 I HAD COVID AND RECOVERD. I WAS CONCERNED ABOUT POSSIBLE COMPLICATIONS SUCH AS BRONCHITIS, PNEUMONIA OR LUNG DAMAGE BECAUSE I HAVE A RECCURRING SLIGHT COUGH. 

NO HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS UNDER THE CONGLOMERATE THAT IS OUR ONLY CHOICE OF MEDICAL CARE IN OUR REGION WILL SEE ANYONE WHO HAS HAD COVID. THEY SEND THEM ALL DIRECTLY TO THE MAIN HOSPITAL ER COVID UNIT TO DO A SLEW OF UNNECESSARY TESTS AND RACK UP THE HOPISTAL BILL. 

I WENT TO GET A SLIGHT COUGH CHECKED OUT. INSTEAD I WAS SUBJECTED TO UNNECESSARY TESTS AND TREATMENT JUST TO BE TOLD I AM IN FACT PERFECTLY FINE. AND NOW I HAVE TEXTBOOK PTSD. 

FUCK YOU, AMERICAN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM.

**EXTRA REMINDER TO SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION AND FOLLOW-UP IF YOU HAVE HAD COVID AND ARE CONCERNED. JUST REMEMBER YOU HAVE RIGHTS AND OUR HEALTH CARE SYSTEM’S MAIN FOCUS IS MAKING MONEY**

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 2

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.5k

"Who are you, Y/N?" The stoic man asked you. He had a porcelain complex to him. His cheekbones were high and defined, with slick black hair that was gelled back. He wore a white lab coat, and his hands were folded on the table as his icy blue eyes bore into you like a snake staring at its prey. The question you had been asked was supposed to be responded with an automatic answer, and you knew better than to try and rebel. You were coaxed into being what they wanted you to be, so you reluctantly spat the words,

"I am Y/N, patient zero, and your loyal subordinate." You boomed emptily, the repeated and hollow words falling from your chapped lips like poison. You looked into the man's eyes again, wanting to test him. At this point, you had nothing to lose.

"Good, now back to sleep." The Doctor ordered, and suddenly everything went black.

The pain was horrendous. The overwhelming force ripped you from the depths of reality, into another painful dimension. Minghao was holding you desperately, constantly asking if you were okay. You didn't know if you could open your eyes, for the ringing in your pain ridden head was too great. Your heavy breathing soon slowed within a few minutes, while Minghao continued to hold you frantically.

You forced your eyes to open, and Minghao's deep brown ones looked at you in a concerned manner. You hadn't been greeted with these irises before, only the cold sarcastic ones, but these orbs were filled with worry. "I'm okay." You managed to mumble, unclasping yourself from his hold while forcing yourself to stand up. Suddenly, the realization of what just happened hit you.

You had remembered something.

The situation seemed somewhat familiar to the one you were in now, being asked questions by a man that demeaned you.

"What the fuck happened?" Minghao asked worriedly, and now it was your turn to laugh.

"Still don't believe me?" You daunted cockily, tilting your head to the side with a smug smirk etched on to your lips.

-

You were forced to go to the community's "clinic" to get checked up on. Their doctor was a young med student, who managed to flee the city when the outbreak first started. He went by the name of Seungkwan, and he was a very sweet and nervous young man.

You had found out that the community you were currently residing in was named "Fort Lockwood". The name came from the street the community was, a mere one way road with a decent amount of houses on both sides. You had also learned that Minghao wasn't the leader, but he was high in command. The leader was Joshua, who appointed several other people to be in charge of certain things. He was just in charge of making sure everything was in shape, that his citizens were safe, and he dealt with the serious problems along with the other leaders. Minghao was in charge of the weaponry, and he trained new citizens on how to fight, use a gun, knife, etc.

You learned that the short-tempered Junhui was in charge of gathering supplies, and often went on escapades for a few days by himself just to come back with a van full of goodies. Hansol, the soft boy you took an immediate liking to, was in charge of defense, and making sure the walls were maintained regularly and that "the infected" were led away from their base.

Seungkwan was in charge of medicine, and the health of the citizens. You kind of scoffed at the mention of how many men were in power, until you heard about Margo and Cleo. Margo was a teacher, in charge of educating the youth of Fort Lockwood. Cleo was apparently "a complete technology wiz" and got the power working in the community again. So, she was in charge of that, along with trying to communicate with the army through the radios she miraculously fixed and walkie-talkies.

Another woman whom you had yet to meet by the name of Sonny was a botanist. She was in charge of the gardens and growing enough food to feed their small community. About five hundred people lived in Fort Lockwood, some families living by themselves, and other people camping together in houses. It was a lot to take in, especially with your limited experience, so you were left to relax in Joshua, Minghao, Junhui, and Seungkwan's house until you were further situated into a better living situation. You pondered the thought of escaping, but the possibilities of you doing so successfully were quite slim.

Not only that, the community was nice. People worked together to help rebuild what was lost, and you appreciated that. You appreciated their will, and their determination. Although you didn't know yourself well enough yet, you knew that you lacked hope for some reason.

Then you found yourself thinking about the man with the icy blue eyes, and the memory that had transpired. You knew it happened, there was a certain clarity in the situation that you relived which led you to believe that it was pure and real. You sighed, the detrimental day kicking in, and soon you felt like you wanted to cry. Humans cry after under a lot of stress, right?

But, your agony was no match to your stubborn side. You refused to let the tears fall, for they symbolized vulnerability. You don't know why you thought that, you just did. And, to put it simply, you were fucking confused. Waking up in a post-apocalyptic world can take quite a toll on somebody, nonetheless somebody with no memories before what had just happened.

So, you just sat on the mattress splattered on the floor of the cold attic you were staying in. You assumed autumn was here, the season fresh and ripe. You then decided to look through your bag, which was stripped of its gun, but nothing else. You had some clothes in there which looked like they'd fit you, along with a lighter, some rope, matches, ammunition, a water bottle, and a blanket. As you got to know yourself throughout the day, you figured out that you were actually quite intelligent, but just kept in the dark. So, the bag filled with all the supplies a girl like you could need was somewhat baffling, which only added to the list of questions you couldn't answer.

You soon heard a knock creaks in the wooden stairs that led up to the attic, which led to a knock on your door. You came face to face with Joshua, the leader of the grand scheme. "Hello." He said somewhat sweetly. His voice was soft, and it contrasted with his rugged looking figure. He had blackish brown hair that fell down his forehead, with his ears poking out slightly. His angled brown eyes were kind of distant, but sage. He was skinny, ragged, yet muscular - similar to Minghao in that sense. He wore a black jacket and brown cargo pants, with an old pair of brown boots aged with experience. His eyebrows were slanted naturally, which gave an intimidating vibe. If you were different, you would've considered yourself intimidated.

But his soft voice contrasted with his scary exterior. His voice was something you could almost drown in, it was rich and thick like honey, but smooth and intoxicating. "Hi." You muttered, returning the intense eye contact he displayed to you.

"Minghao told me what happened...I may seem like an asshole, forcing you to stay here-"

"You don't seem like one - you are one. But continue." You interrupted ripely, your feisty attitude kicking in. Instead of getting pissed, he gave you a lopsided smile which oozed with something you'd consider respect.

"Anyway, I hope you know it's just for the safety of my people. You see, many people want to be a part of our community, or they want to destroy it. But, our location is quite hidden if you haven't noticed, it's a street many miles away from the city, in a town that used to be a peaceful suburb. But, I believe that you're alone and that you have no group. But, I want you to stay here: where it's the closest thing to safe in this world." Joshua explained, inching his way closer to you, which resulted in him sitting on the wooden floor of the dusty attic, directly across from you.

"But why?"

"Because, Y/N, you saved our lives. Usually, lone survivors would let us die as a distraction for the infected, so they could get away safely. What you did was not normal, but highly appreciated. I'm sorry that not everybody showed their gratitude, but they were still processing what had just happened. They're much calmer and more thankful now." Joshua had rasped, and you listened intently.

"Thank you for your kindness. I know my explanation seems like a complete lie, but I promise you it's not. The truth is, when I passed out when talking to Minghao, I believe a memory had came to me. And, that memory scared me." You huffed, finding it odd that you were admitting your fear to a man that you barely knew. "I also take back the thing about you being an asshole, you're actually quite nice." You had joked hoping to lighten the mood.

"I assumed so. But, can you tell me about the memory?" Joshua had requested, a sliver of a smile creeping onto his face.

"I was talking to a man, he looked like a doctor. He asked me a question, and I knew what to say. I had told him I was his subordinate, and that I was 'Patient Zero'. I think I was much younger than I am now in that memory, but he said something along the lines of 'Go back to sleep', and everything went blank. Then, I woke up." You lamented confusedly, your head fuzzy and tired.

"There are many things in this world that we cannot explain, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and trust you, Y/N. Please don't break my trust." Joshua said, his last sentence more longing and desperate than intimidating. You nodded automatically, under his hypnotizing gaze. Soon, he led you downstairs to dinner, where you were face to face with some familiar faces.

The atmosphere was quiet when you walked into the kitchen, where Seungkwan, Minghao, and Junhui were sitting. They were eating what looked like steak, until you realized that it was deer.

You ate it ravenously. You didn't realize how empty your stomach was until you smelled the food, and you downed it within minutes. Minghao was amused at this, and Joshua merely smiled. Hell, even Junhui scoffed a bit.

Soon, everybody laughed, which lightened the mood severely. Then, you were being assaulted with various questions from everybody.

"Where'd you learn how to fight like that?" Junhui had asked, and you merely shrugged. You also had extensive knowledge in the field of medicine, the useful information placed in your head mysteriously.

"I'm better." Minghao deadpanned, and you just scoffed and rolled your eyes.

The conversation drifted on until you revealed the information that you didn't know how to wield a gun. That was Minghao's area of expertise, so you were going to be picked up by Minghao tomorrow, where he'd take you out of Fort Lockwood and teach you how to use one.

Soon, you were the one asking questions. You acquired the information that nobody knew exactly how the outbreak started, but a state of emergency was declared within 3 days, and civilization was reversed back to its old ways within a week. And then the military disappeared after six weeks, and the world truly "went to shit" according to Minghao. The "infected" went by many names, such as "stragglers", "walkers", and "lurkers". You preferred calling them infected.

Soon, dinner was finished, and you decided to take a walk around the fort to take in your surroundings. While you were just about to walk out the door, Joshua stopped you. "I'll join you." He cheekily said, and you smiled weakly.

Joshua showed you around the community, giving you an excellent and lighthearted tour. You let yourself soak in the lightness of your conversations, knowing that your upcoming days were to be filled with nothing but heavy dread. You grew quite fond of Joshua, or Josh (he preferred that nickname) and hoped that you wouldn't break his trust, either.

-

The next morning you awoke at dawn, and you assumed it was six am by the positioning of the sun (another thing you had no idea where you learned it from). You were supplied with clothes and shoes, so you changed into a somewhat heavy slick, gray jacket along with camouflaged pants. You slipped on black leather combat boots and tied your hair up in a low ponytail, due to its shortness.

All the women you had come across had short hair as well, and you assumed it was merely safer to have it. You went downstairs, and everybody was already up making breakfast. You smelled eggs.

"Where did you get eggs from?" You exclaimed, kind of excited over some stupid eggs.

"We have a farm, it's small but it gets the job done." Seungkwan humbly explained, and you nodded and took your eggs gratefully. Minghao ate next to you, going on about the danger of guns. You nodded, trying to soak in the information being rapidly spewed at you.

Soon, you were in a car with Minghao, the vehicle being supplied with various forms of guns, from rifles to pistols. Minghao drove out of Fort Lockwood, and to a very desert land of grass of the highway. It was surrounded by woods, which irked you slightly. You didn't like how anybody could be hiding in those woods, but Minghao insisted that nobody was, and you had no choice but to believe him.

Soon, you were given a breakdown on guns, how to hold them, when to shoot, how to aim, and how to disarm somebody. "I don't want you to be scared of these things. They can end your life, but they can also save it." He had prospered, in which you gulped eagerly.

To put it simply, you were a fast learner. Your aim was impeccable due to your perfect eyesight, but you were not fond of the loudness that boomed from the guns. "Can't the infected hear this?" You asked.

"They can, but we'll be out of here before they can arrive. Plus, we have silencers if it gets out of hand." He explained, and you found yourself not wanting to know what "getting out of hand" meant.

You couldn't disarm Minghao, merely because he flourished in this area, but he had struggled trying to disarm you. You had noticed that Minghao's once playful attitude was replaced with a firm, dominant one when he was teaching you. He commanded respect, and you gave it.

"I think we're done for the day. The infected will be here soon, so let's get back home." Minghao had ordered, and you hopped in the car reviewing every bit of information you had just learned.

After driving for a bit, you two came to a halt when a series of cars blocked the road. Men with guns stood smugly there, and you soon realized that the infected weren't going to be your problem.

[seouledbysisi]

Something New

Chapter 20

Jaehyun

He slid in behind Sasha on the bed. He knew she wasn’t asleep yet but he didn’t say a work or make a sound. He just needed to hold her and let her feel the love that he had always held for her. She was the only woman that he could ever see himself with. He knew kids were a big deal but what they had was even bigger. His life without her would be a train-wreck and he knew from experience. The entire time that he was in Korea without her, he could barely function. His members would constantly ask him what was wrong and the only one who know what the problem was was Johnny and Taeil. Hell, Taeil was in his own turmoil during that time too so he knew from experience as well. 

Sasha turned over and cradled her head into Jaehyun’s chest. “I absolutely shouldn’t have told you that the way i did. I’m sorry.” She whispered without looking at him. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“But I want to. You deserve pure honesty.” She sighed. “I was experiencing heavy bleeding so I got checked out and they did a ultra-sound and my uterus was abnormal.”

Jaehyun rubbed up and down her hip softly as he listened. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that you were having problems? Haven’t I always been here for you?” 

“Yes but I didn’t know how to deal with this so I kept it to myself hoping that it would just go away but it’s not. It’s real and I might not be able to give you the things in life that I know you need.” She began to cry softly into his shirt. 

Jaehyun raised her face off of him and stared deeply at her. “The only thing I’ll ever need is you. We could have a million kids and it wouldn’t change the fact that you are my world.” 

She stared at him with innocent eyes. “You’ll eventually regret saying that.” 

“Stop telling me how I should feel and what I will do. I’m telling you right now and I’ll always feel like this. I want you for the rest of my life.” He rose off the bed and began searching through his suitcase for God knows what. 

She stared at him with her eyebrow risen. “What are you doing?” She giggled a bit. He was so random. 

He kept quiet and focused on the contents of his bag. “Found it!” He exclaimed and walked over to her side of the bed and kneeled down on one knee.

Her body froze as she stared at what was in his hand. 

He cleared his throat. “When I said I wanted you for the rest of my life, I meant it. I don’t care what that contract says. In my eyes you’re already my wife anyway, so let’s make it official while we’re back in your hometown. Marry me?” He flashed her a cocky grin as if he knew she couldn’t resist. 

“How long have you been planning this?” She asked with eyes as wide as a sea. 

He chuckled. “Can I have a answer first?”

“Oh of course!” She fell into his embrace and kissed on his neck. Things began to get heated as she pulled him off the floor and on top of her. 

He pulled back from her as he caught his breath. “Hold on, let me put the ring on you.” He slid it on. “And I’ve had this ring for over a year, contemplating on whether I should just forget about the contract or not. I guess you had more power over me.” 

She smirked as she licked her lips. “As I should, now make love to me!” 

Brianne

“By the way we’re not hanging with those people tonight.” Her boyfriend spoke nonchalantly to her.

She looked over at him as he drove. “Why would you even have a choice in that matter?” 

“Because we already have plans with our friends. Those people are from your past and I’m sorry that it didn’t work out but you’ve moved on and your life is fine without them. You’ve survived!”

She giggled a bit from irritation. “This isn’t working.” 

He stomped on the breaks quickly and swerved to the side of the road and grabbed her arm roughly. “If you think you’re going to break up with me, you’re wrong. You’re mine until I say so.” He stared at her with so much anger built up. 

She snatched her arm away from him. “You asshole! You bruised my arm.” 

“If you don’t watch your tone, you’ll get worse.” He started back driving.

She forced back tears. He had always been verbally abusive but never physically. This was the last straw. She felt like God was punishing her for what she did to Taeil. She would’ve been much happier had she stayed with him. Her life would be so much different and she wouldn’t be staring at that damn bruise on her arm. “Take me home.” 

“Babe, I’m sorry gosh. Don’t ruin this day for us.” He responded with a smile on his face. 

She shook her head. “I said take me home. If you don’t I swear I will call the police on you.” She spoke with a bit more force. She was finally taking her voice back from him. She didn’t know why she felt like she didn’t deserve love but she was making a change and letting this bum go was the start. 

He stopped his car. “Get the fuck out my car. You can walk for all I care since you want to go home so bad.” 

She grabbed her purse and snatched his car door open and slammed it closed. He drove off so fast that she nearly caught whiplash just from watching him zoom off. 

She was right around the corner from her house anyway and she could use some fresh air. She stared at her phone for a moment. She pulled up her contacts and let her finger linger over Taeil’s name. She wondered was his number still the same. What would she even say? The damage was done. He was gone. She was sure he had moved on, but had she? 

She took a deep breath and allowed her finger to press the call button. The phoen rang and rang till she thought he wouldn’t answer. 

“Hello?” He spoke into the phone with an unsure voice. “Brianne?” 

she held the phone, shaken up that he had answered. She didn’t think she could talk. Hearing his voice in all these years seemed so foreign yet so right. 

“Hello?” He spoke again. 

She hung up as she began to freak out in her head. Tear streamed down her face. She sat on the sidewalk in front of her house. 

Her phone began to ring. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t figure out why she had called him just to hang up in his face.  

Taeil. 

She stared at his name.

Johnny

He watched Ivy as she tried to calm Hendrix down. He was a ball of energy, especially at nighttime. She looked exhausted, which was how she looked most of the time but she insisted on not having a nanny. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He grabbed the little boy up and sat him on his leg. “Mommy is tired so can you please settle down?” He smiled as he rubbed the boy’s long wavy hair. 

Henny pouted. “i wanna play.” He spoke in his small voice. 

Johnny shook his head. “No, we’ve been playing all day. You sleep. Now!” 

Hendrix began to cry a little. 

“And if you cry, we won’t be able to buy treats for tomorrow.” Johnny pouted back at the kid. 

The toddler simply laid his head on his dad and eventually fell asleep. 

Johnny quickly took him to Jaehyun’s little brother’s old room and laid him down. He left the door open just in case he woke up. 

When he came back, Ivy was brushing her hair up into a bun. “How does it always work for you?” 

“I guess I just have the magic touch.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and stared at her in the mirror. 

She simply sighed and closed her eyes. His embrace was what she needed because she felt like she was losing touch with herself. She adored being a mother but it was hard not having a lot of help. 

“I think it’s time for you to go back to work. You’re not happy and I know it was your decision to be a stay-at-home-mom but I don’t like seeing you like this.” He admitted. 

She shook her head. “I’m fine, I swear.” 

“You lie. You’re not fine. I miss the old you. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t pursue your own dreams because we have a kid. You’re entitled to a life outside of Hendrix too.” He squeezed her. “We need a nanny.” 

“I just don’t want Hendrix to feel like we’re both deserting him.” She sighed.

Johnny gave her a small smile. “I want him to learn from experience that it’s okay to follow your inhibitions. We’re doing this for him as much as for us.” 

She thought for a moment. She knew he was right but she hate giving him that type of credit cause he would make such a big deal over it. “Whatever you say, babe.” She smiled. 

“Also, me and Jae had a idea and I think you’re going to love it.” He added with a smirk. 

She knew he was up to something. “Oh gosh, I’m scared.” 

“You remember that penthouse that we saw online that was for rent a couple weeks ago?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Mhm?” 

“Well me and Jae were thinking that we could rent it.” 

“Why would Jae need to help you make that type of decision?” She was clearly confused. 

Johnny laughed and turned her around to face him. “No babe, me and Jae are going to get the penthouse for all of us to live in. You’ll be happier and you’ll have more help with Hendrix.” 

“I mean I love the idea but what about Sasha? She’s super attached to Jae’s siblings. That might be a problem.” 

“I’m sure he’ll find a way to get her to say yes.” He kissed her lips softly. “I’m just trying to make you feel better.” 

She smiled. He always had a way of solving all her problems even when she had never even voiced the problems. He was always waiting to save her. “I love you so much.” 

“I know. Who wouldn’t?” He chuckled. 

She slapped his arm. “You always find a way to ruin the moment.” 

[pruebopruebapruebe]

30 days of autism acceptance 2020 part 4

Day 16.  Talk about treatment.  Have you been through any therapies?  What ones did you like?  Which ones didn’t you like?  Do you think autistic people need therapy for their autism?

Treatment? What is there to “treat”? I don’t think we need therapy for the autism. I do think a lot of autistic people need therapy because the system abuse us and that’s a way to keep ourselves mentally healthy. 

I have went to therapy with different professionals before my selfdiagnose. I don’t have a good relationship with professionals from the mental health. I have went to them since I was a child and no one ever told me I was autistic, and sadly you can not say that they could have “missed” it. One of them knew me for about ten years, as a kid and a teen.

I used to have this mixed feelings… that professionals didn’t want to help me, and if they wanted, they didn’t know how to do it but weren’t telling me. Or, alternatively, they didn’t know how to help me, and if they knew, they didn’t want to. I had this feeling that I was being not helped, but studied and observed for their own interests. But I have always thought about it as me being paranoid because I knew I am a case of study [almost for reasons unrelated to autism].

They tried behavior therapy and other cognitive approaches, but I always felt something odd and wrong about it. I wanted to talk about my emotions and feelings and understand them, but they changed the topic always to the behaviour and that made me feel suspicious. Sessions drained me from the remains of energy I had and I didn’t notice big changes in me. They helped me, of course, somehow, but not enough. I went to therapy because of family issues and trauma, keep going because there was something strange in me, and now I’m going to balance my life, at least, after understanding what was really happening to me.

When my hope was disappearing, when I got stuck in my process and therapy wasn’t adding anything to my recovery and was hell, I took the decision to take it in my hands. I knew it was difficult for me to put my thoughts and emotions in words for another person, let alone a professional, in an unfamiliar room. I knew there were things I was keeping for myself that I could not say into the world, nor write. I knew there was something different, something we weren’t working on. I started investigating, reading, analysing myself in a new level. After all, I already had that kind of thoughts, I was just touching the surface, maybe if I dipped in and worked those thoughts to scratch, to the bone, I could take them out of my mind.

At this time I had already made a big part of the journey. For years I knew about unconnected issues that I couldn’t quite name, that worried me. I had worked on them, identifying them and giving them solutions. I felt tired of life, I had worked so much and I didn’t see an end for my existential dilemma. I knew I didn’t have much more energy for keeping on healing and living. So I decided to use that last charge to the maximum, and push farther than I ever did before. My mind was always my last lair, and I was afraid that the last safe space, the only safe space that I could ever count with, was corrupted in it’s roots. If that was the case, I had to discover it by myself because no one else could say it from the outside, or else they would have told me, right?

I used different “techniques” to analyse my cognitive process, response to triggers, feelings and emotions. For example, I knew victims of abuse never recover completely, but I also knew that exposition to triggers was a hard but effective therapy. I needed to recover memories, to control reactions, to normalice concepts and ideas, to understand the biology of trauma, to identify sequels and their mechanisms… And I was totally decided to go hardcore with this. It was my last charge of energy so I was going down with it, I was giving it my 100%.

Now I have a therapist who does put the attention on my feelings and not on how do I have to behave and I appreciate the change, I like this kind of therapy more than the old ones.

Day 17.  Talk about empathy.  Many people think autistics do not have empathy.  What’s your experience with empathy?  Are you hyper empathic or not empathic at all?

Empathy is used differently in different contexts. I think that people that thinks that autistics do not have empathy are conchasdesusmadres [motherfuckers] with no imagination nor empathy themselves. First of all, they are conchasdesusmadres for thinking that the worlds revolves around them so if “we” can not undertand them, is because “we” are incapable of feeling like them, and never cross their mind the idea that this goes both ways so they themselves lack empathy with us. I mean, they talk about us as if we owe them undertanding but they do not owe us shit.

I am hyper empathic, or at least I can put myself in other people position and know what they are feeling by logic and my knowledge of them and feel something from it. I can pick moods by body language, but when I fell in the abyss of extreme burn out I felt like my capacity of “naturally” read people was in the floor.

I don’t want to talk more about this, it makes me sad and gives me suicide thoughts. The first reason my therapist gave me to disregard autism was my empathy. Days after that a teacher told me “you are ASD, aren’t you? [yeah idk uhmm] You don’t have empathy [yes I do]. No you don’t”. I have this shit stuck in my mind in a loop and it’s been half a year.

Day 18.  Talk about functioning labels.  What is your opinion about functioning labels?  Where are you on the spectrum?  If you don’t like functioning labels how would you describe your functioning ability?

Functioning labels are a myth, promote discrimination, are a problem for diagnose and are a fucking lie. I hate them. Me? I was passing. I am “high functional”. And because of that I could have live a miserable life or commited suicide. But I was lucky, because all the mental, emotional and phisical overwork I did last year [for my second career] “lowered” my capacities. I didn’t know what was happening to me, to my body, but at some point I wasn’t high functional anymore. Autistic traits came one by one (or previous traits got out of control or become more intense). That allowed me to self diagnose. That would not have happened if functioning labels were real.

I think that we are more or less functional depending on the context and environment and that funcioning labels are better suited for being used by everyone of us as a personal, daily measurement, under the premise of it constantly changing based on mood, energy, environment, health, stress, etc.

Day 19.  Talk about your struggles and strengths.  What things are difficult for you because you are autistic?  What are the positives of being autistic?  Do you have a special skill or talent?

Being new in places with a status quo is difficult for me. People sometimes think I’m mad when I’m not and that isn’t good for relationships.

The positives of being autistic are all me. All of me. Everything in me. Everything that I am. My soul, my mind, my values, my experiences, my body, my senses, my relation with the world and humanity. And, of course, my skills.

Day 20.  Talk about communication.  Are you verbal? Nonverbal? Partially verbal?  How do you usually communicate?

Communication can be very hard specially if the other part is… like most people: bad at communication. BUT, maybe because of it being difficult, I do communicate when is needed. Anyway at the worst point last year it was extremely difficult for me. Words failed me and my voice was failing too.

This may come as a surprise to people I know irl, but I have came to the conclusion that, while I like to talk and I have a good vocabulary, it can be difficult for me to know what I want to say and then say it. In fact, I can lose speech or have problems remembering the words, so I would say that I am semi-nonverbal. I have even noticed that I do, indeed, use a lot of sounds to talk [onomatopeias]. I have also discovered that I have a lot of stimmings that are, in fact, concepts I want to communicate, and even before knowing about autism I noticed that [all the times? most of the times? sometimes? depending on the times?] it was easier for me to write than to talk. It still is, apparently.

[jeffxwittek]

Face Down (Part 2) | Jeff x Reader x Boyfriend

A/N: i’m mad at myself for not double checking that google docs saved what i added in part one, so i guess i just have to attempt from here to fix the mess part 1 was... hope you enjoy? - oh and the first part doesnt have jeff but JEFF ALL THE WAY IN THE SECOND HALF I PROMISE. not as much fluff as i would like in this. and also heres a link to the song face down since i didn’t put it with part 1 as well -- part 3 is def gonna happen btw

Plot: It’s the day after your friends found out how your boyfriend treats you and they are trying hard to be supportive, especially Jeff. (Under KEEP READING cuz it’s kinda long?) Warnings: Mentions of abuse (physical & verbal), cheating (i’m against it, but it worked with the story)

You’re sleeping on the couch in David’s living room as you hear the quick footsteps of Natalie and David moving around in the kitchen in attempts to not wake you. You open your eyes and don’t move as to not surprise your two friends. You just lay silent and listen to them have their conversation

“I never liked him,” you hear Natalie say in a blunt whisper.

“None of us did. We just didn’t think he was hurting her,” you notice him sigh and hear him put something down on the counter.

“It must have broken Jeff last night to see what went down,” Natalie says.

Jeff? Why would Jeff be broken? Yes, he’s my friend so he cares about me, but broken? You run through the thought process as you continue to silently lay on the couch.

“For a guy who puts up a front of being this bad-ass ex-convict, he’s totally soft when it comes to Y/N. He won’t actually admit it though,” David states.

You know it’s time to let them know you’re awake and raise your arm above the back cushion of the couch. “’Morning,” you greet them with a raspiness in your voice. You slide off the couch and make your way into the kitchen to meet with them.

David and Natalie both look surprised like they were caught doing or saying something they weren’t supposed to. 

You nod your head over to the coffee maker. “May I?”

They both respond in unison, “Yeah.”

You pull a mug from the cabinet above and pour yourself coffee and head over to the fridge for some milk. “So,” you turn around to them and place the coffee and milk on the counter. “I want to say that I’m sorry for last night. Thomas and I had been fighting all day. We really shouldn’t have come last night. I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I feel horrible about putting you all in the middle of that. I just thought that if we were around other people it would stop the bickering for a couple hours, but I guess not. He’s just stressed out at work and I upset him and--.” You quickly get cut off by David.

“Y/N. No. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. You came over here to hang out and have a fun time with your friends and that douchebag ruined it.” David says trying to comfort you.

“He’s really not that bad. I know the past couple times he’s been around it seems that way, but he’s just rough around the edges. He’s not horrible. I promise”

David rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Not horrible? Y/N. Listen to me. I’ve seen plenty of people in my life be in fucked up relationships and I can see that he doesn’t treat you right. We call can. We just never suspected he was hurting you.”

You act taken about. “Hurting me?” You almost yell the question. “He’s not hurting me!”

“Then how’d you get the bruise, Y/N?” Natalie jumps in.

“On my chest? Like I told Corinna last night, I dropped my curling iron! Not a big deal! It slipped!” You walk past David and Natalie towards the front door.

“Where are you going?!” David yells after you. “We’re trying to help you!”

You spin back around to look at the two of them. “If you were trying to help, you would listen. Everything’s fine! We’re just in a rough patch right now.” You slide on your shoes from the night before and grab your purse before looking at them again. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back home to my boyfriend.” You sigh and look at David. “Thank you for the coffee. I’ll see you later.” You walk out of the house and slam the door without another word or looking back.

The moment you step outside though, you realize Thomas drove you here and you have no way back home. You could call him, but he would try to fight with you the whole time. An Uber? Too expensive. You look down at your phone and try to think of who to call. Jeff. You remember the conversation with him last night and he said if you need anything, to tell him. You open your contacts and scroll to his name. You hover your thumb over his name for a second before hitting the screen and putting the phone up to your ear. You feel like it rings forever before it picks up on the other end.

“Hello?” You hear a muffled, tired voice on the other end.

“Oh. Geez. I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ll call someone else. Go back to bed.” You start to pull the phone away from your ear as you hear him say something.

“No, no. It’s okay. I need to get up anyway and feed Nerf. What’s up?” Jeff sounds concerned as the words escape from his mouth.

You’re quiet for a second unsure what to actually say and just breath into the phone.

“Y/N. Are you okay?” Jeff says as you hear him moving things around on his end.

“Um, yeah. I just-- Could you pick me up at David’s? I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’ll be right there. Meet you at the curb?”

“Meet you at the curb. Thank you, Jeff.” You hang up the phone and make your way down David’s driveway and past his gate to wait at the curb for Jeff.

--

It feels like forever before Jeff pulls up and you climb into the passenger seat. “Thank you so much for picking me up. Thomas left with the car last night and so I had no way home.”

“It’s no problem. I would have been here sooner but I had to stop for this.” He picks a coffee cup out of the middle cupholder and hands it to you. “White mocha, extra whip cream.”

“You didn’t have have to get me coffee,” You say as you take the cup from him. “But, thank you.” You take a long sip as the warm liquid fills your body and you instantly feel better after the argument you had with Natalie and David. “How’d you know I like white mocha’s?”

Jeff let’s out a small laugh. “Because that’s the only thing ya order anytime we go anywhere and ya refuse to go to the coffee shop around the corner because they don’t have it on their menu.” He starts to pull away from the curb and drive down the road.

“What kind of coffee place doesn’t have a white mocha?” You almost scream. “It’s essential to have on any coffee menu.” You take another sip of the drink before placing it back in the cupholder. “Thank you again, though.”

Silence fills the car for a minute before Jeff finally speaks up. “So you and Thomas. What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?” You respond acting oblivious to the situation that played out the night before.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, Y/N.” He sighs and you see him fiddle with his fingers on the steering wheel. “But, does he hurt ya? Physically?”

There it is. The one question everyone wanted to ask last night. Your mind thinks and attempts to come up with a lie, yet you come up with nothing.

“I provoke him. It’s really not his fault. I just need to be careful on what I do and say.” You’re silent for a moment. “Plus I need to be careful on what I wear and who I talk to. Those are just some things that upset him.” You hear no response from Jeff, but you see him drive right past your street. “Jeff! Where are you going?”

“I’m taking you to my place,” Jeff says as he continues to drive to his apartment.

“You can’t make me go to your apartment. Pull over and I’ll just get out here,” You say with demand in your tone.

Jeff pulls into a parking lot and stops his car. As you reach for the door handle he locks the car. “What the fuck, Jeff?” You almost yell at him and pound your foot on the floorboard of his car.

He turns to look at you after pulling his keys out of the ignition. “First, stop acting like a child. Second, tell me why ya wanna go back to see him. And third, can’t ya tell I’m tryin’ help ya?” He looks at you with pleading eyes and reaches for your hand and you quickly pull away.

“He’s my boyfriend. Even if we don’t always get along, we’re together and I need to go home and see him.” You let out a heavy sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and whisper to yourself, “I just hope he’s still not mad about last night.

“Damnit, Y/N. Can’t ya see that you deserve so much better? You’re smart and funny and energetic. You light up a room when you walk into it. Find someone who matches that and will help bring those qualities out more.”

“And who’s gonna do that, Jeff? People aren’t really lined up to date me. If you can’t tell, I’m kind of a mess and--.”

Next thing you know Jeff’s lips are crashing into your’s and you find your arms quickly wrapping around his neck. You can suddenly smell the mixture of toothpaste and coffee from his breath and feel how his lips are slightly chapped.

Fuck. What am I doing? I’m with Thomas! But, this feels amazing. You run through your head everything that makes this so wrong and so right at the same time. After what feels like forever, you pull away and see Jeff quickly wipe his bottom lip with his thumb.

“I-- Um-- I’m sorry.” Jeff stutters out the words and fumbles with his keys picking them up from the dashboard. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He nervously puts the keys back in the ignition and starts the car. After backing up and starting his way out of the parking lot, he tells you he’ll take you back to your apartment. “If ya really wanna go back home, I’ll take ya. But I need ya to promise that the moment something happens, ya give me a call.”

“Can we actually just go to your place right now?” You reach for his arm that’s now sitting on the middle console. You suddenly wanted to be with Jeff a little longer. “I think some hanging out away from Thomas a little longer is something I need.”

“Of course. My apartment it is.”

The rest of the drive is silent, yet you feel at peace knowing you don’t have to go back home to your boyfriend just yet.

—

Soon enough Jeff is parking his car in the parking garage and jumps out to run to your side of the car before you can unbuckle. He opens the door for you and helps you out. 

“Well, thank you, sir,” you joke as you shift your purse strap onto your shoulder. You follow Jeff up the stairs to his place and walk in to notice bits and pieces that you’ve only ever seen in videos.

You place your purse against the wall by the front door and follow Jeff into his kitchen. “Um, I don’t mean to bother you about this. But do you have anything I could change into?” You look down at your jeans and shirt from the night before. “I’m just a bit uncomfortable.”

“Yea. Be right back.” Jeff disappears for a moment and comes back with a large t-shirt and sweats. “I tried to find the smallest sweats I had, so I hope these work.”

You take the clothes from Jeff and thank him before making your way to the bathroom to change. You look in the bathroom mirror and notice that your makeup is smeared and your hair is a mess. You use some tissues to wipe off your makeup and comb your hair with your fingers before putting it up into a bun. You change into the t-shirt and sweats only to find that the sweats drop straight back down to your ankles. At least the shirt covers my butt, you think to yourself. You walk out of the bathroom and notice Jeff sitting on the couch with the TV on. You put your folded clothes by your bag and walk over to him. 

He notices you walk over and quickly realizes you’re not wearing pants. “Sweats too big?”

“Just a tad. I can throw my jeans back on if you want me to,” you say as you point over towards your stuff.

Jeff shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay. C’mon and sit.” He pats the couch cushion right next to him.

You sit down next to him and plop your feet up on the coffee table. “So, about that kiss--”

“I’m so sorry about that. I shoulda taken the cue you were upset.” He turns to look at you and you can tell he really is sorry.

“It’s okay. It pulled me out of my little panic mode.”

“But, I did notice something.”

“And what’s that?” You look at him and cock your head to the side intrigued with what he’s about to say.

He licks his top lip and adjusts himself to face you, placing his arm on the back of the couch. “You kissed me back,” he says with a smirk.

You close your eyes for a moment and let a long breath out. “That I did.”

Jeff rubs the back of his neck with his and you can tell he’s nervous. “I know this may be inappropriate, but can I kiss ya again? Saying no is okay.”

You squeeze your lips together suddenly very thankful for the lip treatments you’ve been doing at home. You lean in and gently kiss Jeff and can’t help but smile at how warm his lips feel. Next thing you know his hands are on your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You let out a small laugh and pull away from his lips. “Should we be doing this?” You look at him with questioning eyes and hope he gives you the answer you want.

“Only if ya want to,” he says.

You’re silent for a moment. “I want to.” You grab his cheeks in your hands. “I really want to.”

—

Next thing you know an alarm is going off and as you open your eyes Jeff is rolling over to grab his phone. You suddenly remember that you haven’t checked your phone since Jeff picked you up the day before. Fuck. You run to check your phone and have what seems like 100 messages from Thomas.

“Nice job being a bitch last night.”

“Having fun with your idiot friends?”

“Not replying? Fine. Make me angry.”

“Do you like pissing me off?”

“Where the hell are you Y/N? Stop being a baby and come home.”

“You are in for so much shit when I see you.”

Your mind is racing as you read through all the messages of anger and threats sent to you. As your vision is beginning to be impaired by tears filling your eyes, you feel a set of strong hands on your shoulders and you jump while letting out a scream.

“Hey, hey. It’s just me.” Jeff spins you around and lifts your chin so you make eye contact with him. “It’s just me. You’re okay.” He goes to rub your upper arm before he notices your phone and all the messages that Thomas has sent. He grabs the phone from your hand and starts to read them.

“Jeff!” You yell with a crack in your voice and attempt to reach for your phone. “Give that to me! It’s private!”

“Y/N. He’s threatening ya. This isn’t normal. This isn’t healthy!” He places the phone in his pocket. “You’re not getting this back right now. Ya need to separate yourself from him.”

You start hitting his chest with your fists and screaming. “Jeff! Give me my phone! I need my phone! I need to go home! He’s mad!” You can feel your cheeks turning red and notice your limbs going week as you fall into Jeff. You let out a small crying whimper.

Jeff finds his way to the ground and holds you close to him and rubs your arms and back calming you down. “Look what he’s doing do you, Y/N.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You cry into his chest while trying to catch your breath.

Jeff let’s out a heavy sigh. “We’ll figure something out, Y/N. I promise.” He continues to rub your back while your tears fade away and you fall asleep right there in his lap while he sits on the floor.

[onigirishawn]

needy

Hi! I tend to have a very strong connection with the songs I listen to. Thought I’d make it into a series of imagines based on some of my favourite songs

Summary : [Based on the song ‘needy’ by Ariana Grande] “needy” shows how Y/N feels insecure and craves emotional support and attention from Shawn. Though Y/N feels like she’s asking for too much, she at least expects Shawn to appreciate being needed.

Includes ; Triggering topics like bullying and assault

YOUR POV

I nervously walk around the room. Biting onto my already brittle nails. Panicking, unable to think about anything else except the growing anticipation for Shawn’s return. I start to grow uncomfortable, feeling as if I’m suffocating. I rush over to the kitchen counter to pour myself a glass of water. I drink my water shakily and quickly put it down on the counter, still feeling anxious. I’ve been in this distressed state for half an hour already. I wasn’t too sure why I was having this.. I was just looking back on a few photos in my old photo album from a few years back just now and the flashbacks started coming in. I was fragile and easily broken back then... I was only 16 when I faced the bullying, the comments that made me feel so little. Looking back on my high school photos suddenly made me so anxious.

On top of that, social media has been horrible to me. I read through harsh comments about me, ‘Fat cow’ , ‘Unworthy for Shawn’ , ‘Gold digger’ . I knew that this was what I have to go through but today just put me down. How could people be so cruel?

I instantly reminisced on my high school days, where I was going through similar bullying and an abusive relationship with my then-boyfriend who used to make me feel so unworthy. I especially didn’t forget the night he took advantage of me. The night that I still cry myself to sleep about every night.

That was years ago but the pain stains me forever. The comments and actions were still fresh. I told myself so many times , Stop being so dramatic , move on already Y/N! , You’re a disaster but it never stopped. I’ve told Shawn about my horrible past in school but I’ve never told him about my ex-boyfriend who took advantage of me. I felt ashamed of myself. I blamed myself for the night, I should have known better.

Sometimes I feel scared that if I told Shawn... he would leave me.

I jumped to the sound of the door opening. I quickly walked in the hallway where Shawn finds me distraught and red with fresh tears.

“Y/N?” He walked over to me, “Baby.. what happened?” He said as he cupped my face with both hands. I reached out to feel his hands, leaning my head to his hold. “Shawn...” I said tearfully and dropped down to my knees where he quickly held me up to avoid hitting the hard floor. “Baby I’m going to carry you to our room and we’ll talk all about it okay?” He said and I nodded lightly, feeling guilty he had to deal with me being this distraught. Shawn carries my up bridal style and slowly carried me to our shared bedroom.

Why am I doing this to him? I ask myself. I ask so much from him. I know how crazy busy he is as a huge star and here I am crying every night whenever he comes home as he rescues me from my distraught. He never fails to tend me.. but that’s where I grow worried if Shawn might one day get tired and consider me needy and one day.. leave me.

This added more panic to me as I felt my heart race. I fight myself to stop making such a scene but it always gets out. I feel the warmth of the bed, adding a subtle sooth to my worries. Shawn climbs to our bed and slowly wraps the blanket around me. He stays by my side and coos at me to calm down, “Shhh it’s alright baby, I’m here okay?”

I take in big breaths as I look into his deep eyes. I was so scared of losing him one day. “I’m sorry Shawn.. I put you in so much trouble on top of that you have to do so much work and you always come home to me being distraught-“ Shawn kisses my forehead , “Don’t.” He says softly as he brushes a strand from my face. “Baby, don’t ever feel like a burden. You aren’t.” He smiles which soothes me more.

“Baby.. can you tell me what happened?” He continued, back to being worried. I gulp. “It’s just .. it’s just my flashbacks..” I sigh, my usual answer, except there was more to it. “High school?” He nods, understanding quickly. I nod..uncertain.

“Baby.. are there things I don’t know?” He asks. I shot up to his eyes, scared. Does he know? “No-no .. of course not.” I shake my head.

“We’ve been together for 2 years. Please tell me, I won’t judge, you know I love you right?” He begs. Oh Shawn... you probably won’t look at me the same.

I sit myself up, wiping my last remaining tears, trying my best to gain the confidence to tell him. It was time. I had to tell him one day. He wraps his arm around my waist, making me feel better.

“I’ve been feeling this for a while..” I whisper, “You come home to my panic attacks and you deserve to know what really happened.” I sigh. Shawn starts to grow worried. I was too.. I didn’t want to lose him too. “It’s just yes.. it is the high school memories. Those girls who hurt me.. but there was a boy.” I gulp at my last word, Shawn adds more grip on me. “We were 16 and.. he was abusive. I thought he would change. I thought that I could handle it. I thought maybe he did love me and this was just a small part of his flaws.” I cracked through my words,

“But in those 2 years I endured the worst. He would get drunk after parties and pull on my hair and drag me around. At first I thought I should excuse it because he was drunk..but it started getting worse. He verbally abused me whenever I messed up. He would get drunk with his mates and encourage them to ... touch me. In one night... it happened. They touched me.” I choked. I still had a few more words to say, “My parents loved him though. He was rich.. he’d buy them gifts. He’d buy my little siblings gifts. He was so sweet with them.. my family was wrapped around his little finger... which just gave me more reasons why I shouldn’t leave him because my family was expecting a future for us. If my family found out I left him, they’d think I’m a coward. But there was no way I was going to tell them what happened. He would threaten me and tell me how he’d hurt me more if I told them and that I’d be considered a slut. The comments I get on social media just remind me of the past so much.” I cried through my words.

I can’t believe I said it all out. I was scared to look at Shawn’s face. It was just silence between us. “Now you know...you’re probably disgusted with me.” I said while bringing my hands to my face, sobbing.

“Baby.. oh my god baby.” He said as he wrapped me in his arms, allowing me to sob into his shoulder. He wrapped me up so nicely in his arms, adding comfort. Making me feel glad. “Whoever that guy was.. he’s going to hell. And god I hate him so much I just want to break him up. Oh my god I’m so-“ Shawn said in frustration as I felt his hand grip tighten to his frustration. He muffled more curse words as he expressed his anger, it sounded as if he wanted to punch a wall.

“ Babe..can you look at me?” He said after a few moments, I looked up to him and saw his eyes were filled with anger and sadness. “You are the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met in the whole wide world. You’ve been the best friend and girlfriend for me and I can’t express how grateful I am for you in my life. You are a gift from God.” He kisses my forehead many times. “I love you so so so so so much you have no idea.” He was clearly still lost for words. “Please, let me help you go through this. No one deserves this. You don’t deserve this. You’re my baby? How could this happen to such a beautiful soul like you?” He says, tearing up as he rocks our bodies. I feel his tears.

“I will never leave you. I will never ever take advantage of you. I will love you and only you forever. Heck I’ll give up my life for you Y/N.” He whispers into my ear.

I look up to him, “Shawn... I’m sorry.. I’m being so needy.” I cry.

I feel his head shake, disagreeing, “No baby. You make me feel needed. Do you know how good you make me feel? It feels so good to be needed by you.”

I felt so desperate for his touch, I kiss him tearfully. We were both expressing our sadness through a passionate kiss. He kissed my neck and whispered , “You’re so beautiful. I’m so sorry you went through those years baby.”

I rest my forehead on his, “I was worried you’d leave me.. I felt ashamed for my past.” He cupped my face , “Don’t ever. I would never leave you. We can go through this Y/N . Just stay with me and we’ll work this out. I’m going to make sure you feel all my love and appreciation for you every single fucking day.” I nodded and kissed him passionately again.

-

Hoped you guys liked it! I put a lot of heart into it and I hoped it touched your 💓

[ilikeoldchangke]

My boss is an influencer

This is a work of fiction.

..................................................

I met Ning when we were both doing temp jobs at a pharmacy.

She’s doing it as a temp job during her school holidays whereas I’m doing it because I need to make a living.

Armed with only a ‘O’ Level cert with mostly ‘F’ grades, there’s not much for someone like me in Singapore.

The only ‘B’ I got is for English.

At 16, I started working, hoping from temp jobs to temp jobs, I wanted something permanent too but no one wanted me.

Most companies stopped using me after the initial trial period.

The pharmacy job was the one that lasted the longest, 6 months.

So for 6 months, I worked with Ning in the same shop, arranging items, attending to customers, her sweet demeanour made her the customer’s darling.

Everyone wanted to be served by Ning instead of me.

It’s not a gender thing, it’s because I’m stupid.

Yes it’s true.

I’m stupid and clumsy, I make mistakes all the time and despite repeated reminders, I would still make the same mistakes.

I can’t help it. I know I’m stupid, low IQ , I don’t know. Something is wrong with me.

Ning on the other hand, is so much smarter. Let’s not forget she is smoking hot as well.

Her long legs looked so good when she turned up in shorts. I always imagined I was hiding in the store where she changes into her long pants for work. That way I would be able tot steal a glimpse at her panty.

Ning scolds me sometimes when I mess things up but it’s ok with me.

She will always remain the sweet helpful girl in my heart.

You can probably imagine by now I’m that loner hiding in a corner of the room with a book in hand.

The one with no friends.

It’s true, I feel more comfortable spending my time with books that with other people.

Ning knows this, and she gives me quite a few books she no longer wants. I took them all. It didn’t matter if the covers were pink and the titles were girly.

I treasured everyone of them, arranging them neatly in my shelf.

I would even smell the books and imagine I was smelling Ning’s hand.

I masturbated to Ning regularly, I want her but she would never want someone as stupid as me.

She’s a smart university undergraduate, whereas I’m just a lowly stupid guy working in a retail store. It wasn’t long before I started writing poems and love notes to Ning.

She read each one and laughed. She thinks it’s a joke.

I don’t blame her.

It’s like a toad lusting after a swan.

We kept in touch after she went on to study full time in university while I enlisted in the army.

Kept in touch meant sending each other a merry Christmas, or New year message once a year, usually one of those meaningless animated stuff other people forward.

I followed her social media feed, I stalked her postings.

Everytime there is something new for me to masturbate to, I will download and keep it in my computer.

We may be apart but my infatuation with her grows ever stronger.

After my service in the military, I started doing work as a security guard in a condominium.

It was simple work, recording vehicle numbers, and patrolling the grounds and scanning the various checkpoints. I still get scolded though, some residents can be pretty mean, expecting me to do everything from catching a lizard from their unit to changing a light bulb or helping them bring their trash to the recycle bin.

3 months into my work at the condominium, I got a shock when I saw Ning walking towards me at the pool.

Ning : JAMES !!! oh my god !!! what are you doing here !!!

James : Oh…. Ning…. You stay here ??

Ning : are you a security guard ?? hahahaha….

James : Yes…. It’s…. the only thing I can find … after I finish my army….

Ning : It’s been so long since I last saw you !!! my god… years… !!

It may be years since she last saw me but it was only last night when I saw Ning, not in person though.

On a screen, with my hand wrapped around my cock.

We caught up a little and Ning told me she is starting her own branding company slash online ecommerce slash marketing company.

James : wow… that’s impressive….. you’re so smart… I’m sure you will do very well….

Ning laughed as she looked at me in the ill fitting security uniform.

Ning : James…. Cannot la… you… you don’t look like a security guard… hahaha….

I smiled and immediately was a bit conscious of how I look.

I was about to excuse myself to save me the embarrassment when Ning held me on my shoulder.

Ning : JAMES!! James !!! look… I have an idea….there is no future…. In doing this… I mean… come on… security… ??

James : i…. I’m not exactly flooded with choices…. You… you know how I am…with work and all…

Ning patted her chest and gave me that sweet cock sure smile.

Ning : work for me James….

James : what ?

Ning : I have so many engagements, I have no time to edit my articles…. And write my reviews…. This is perfect….. remember you used to write those notes and peoms…. You write so well !!! what do you think ??

James : huh ?? .. i….

Ning : ok… look… I’ll pay you…. There’s CPF, there’s medical benefits…. I have a proper office….. you have your own desk, computer… a real office job….you deserve better….

This is like a fucking dream come true man.

Working for the girl you are masturbating to regularly.

Even if I’m stupid, I will not say no.

I nodded my head and Ning punched a fist in the air.

Ning : You are my first employee James !!! yes !!!... hahaha

She added that together, we will grow the company to great heights.

It all happened so fast, within a month, I was out of my uniform and i find myself standing in front of Ning at her so call office.

It’s a industrial unit in Paya lebar, it’s big, about the side of a 3 room flat.

It’s stacked full of sponsored clothing and samples. There are shoes and heels piled on top of each other on the metal shelves.

Clothes were strewn all over the place like it’s a war zone.

My own table was a cold metal desk and the computer I was given is Ning’s old laptop with 3 hello Kitty stickers.

It’s ok, I don’t mind.

Beggars can’t be choosers right.

I start work at 9 and I usually leave at 7pm.

There is so much to do.

Besides editing Ning’s work, I need to take photos, I need to drive her to engagements and events, I need to buy her meals, I need to wash her clothes.

I’m being worked like a slave.

Within a couple of months, Ning’s true colours started to show.

In front of the customers, the clients, she is the sweet darling of the influencer world. In front of me, she is at her absolute worst.

“ JAMES !!! OH GOD!!! FUCK…. WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID !!!! “

“JAMES !!! DON’T WASH THE COLOURS WITH THE WHITES !!! “

“ JAMES !! DAMM IT… FUCK…..!! WHERE IS THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS SOCK !! “

“ JAMES !!! WHERE ARE THE SCISSORS !! “

“ JAMES ….MY GOD.. CAN YOU FUCKING DON’T BE SO STUPID !!! “

Abuses like this fly on a daily basis.

Ning gets especially angry when the photos I take are not satisfactory.

“ MY LEGS ARE LOOKING FAT YOU STUPID !!.. NOT THIS ANGLE… !! “

“ AGAIN… NOT NICE !”

“ THIS VIEW CANNOT !!! ARE YOU DUMB ??  YOU’VE SHOT ANGLES LIKE THIS BEFORE SO MANY TIMES !!! “

“ NO… NO… NO…. TAKE AGAIN….!!! “

“ I SMILE UNTIL MY JAWS HURT ALREADY… YOU STUPID….FUCK…”

“ CAN YOU DO IT PROPERLY…?  USE YOUR BRAIN FOR ONCE !! “

I continued working quietly and I took the abuse, because I like Ning.

She looks so good in the photos. Especially in her sports attire. She’s pretty big in the sporting scene, doing active style type of clothing and endorsements.

The smile, the slim and tone body, that pair of sexy legs.

In photo, everything is perfect.

What about my pay ? Well, I’m being paid 1200 a month. The same rate I get for being a security guard. At least I get to work with Ning, a pretty and hot babe.

How do I handle the stress then ?

I masturbate of course. Almost on a daily basis.

Ning’s clothes, her worn shoes, socks. Everything her sponsor gives her, she wears them for the shoot then chugs them in the office.

I was tasked to wash and hang all of them up nicely. Before I do, I would indulge in them.

Sports bra ? Yoga tights ? those are my favourite.

Sometimes I wonder myself if I deliberately made the shoot more difficult to see Ning sweat and get all worked up, or maybe for her to stay in the clothes longer.

The longer she wears the clothes, the more of her smell accumulates on them. The greater the satisfaction when I use it to masturbate.

She usually leaves office around 5pm, leaving me with enough time to jerk off with the day’s offerings before heading home.

It’s a good thing for me, I get to see Ning, masturbate to her clothes.

Ning did not know that I have secretly taken pictures of her undressing.

I also have video of her peeing in the toilet.

Yes, I also have plenty of her upskirt.

At the days turn to months, and the months to years, Ning got more popular.

She started to get more busy but I remained her only staff.

My pay went up to 1.4k and I spent many night in the office.

Our office expanded to include a small studio and with 2 sections converted into 2 small bedrooms.

One for me and one for Ning.

There are nights when we are simply too tired to go on and we would just sleep over in the office.

I would touch myself under the blanket, thinking of Ning sleeping next door from me.

I thought maybe one day the shouting, the scolding and the verbal abuse would stop but it never did.

It’s ok.

It’s ok because I like Ning. She is my angel.

Until one day everything changed.

It was a Sunday.

I felt this throbbing need to jerk off and I did not want to do it at home.

I want to do it in the office, surrounding by Ning’s belongings and clothes.

I want to smell the clothes she has worn that week that is still lying in the laundry basket.

I made my way to the office and I was in the midst of picking out a bikini she modelled a few days ago when I heard commotion at the door.

I could hear Ning but she was not alone.

I panicked and I tried to find a place to hide.

I dashed into a large full height wardrobe with held all her long dresses and gowns and I held my breath.

Seconds later, I saw Ning come into office with a guy.

Another man.

They were smiling and giggling, they were holding hands.

I felt the anger rising in my heart but I felt that familiar rise in my cock.

Ning’s giggling stopped when the guy took her in his arms.

My erection throbbed when I watch them kiss and the guys hand started roaming downwards to Ning’s breast.

I find myself shaking and trembling in the wardrobe.

I was angry.

So angry that I felt like charging out and pulling them apart.

I watch Ning pull her own top off as she smiled at the guy.

That slut.

That fucking slut.

She has never smiled in that manner at me before.

I watched her remove her skirt, revealing a cream pair of lacy panty I’ve masturbated to before and before I realised it, I was smiling.

I was smiling as I look at Ning.

I smile not because I’m watching her undress.

I smile not because I know I’m going to get to see Ning have sex.

I smile, because my mind started to get flooded.

Flooded with images of the things I’m going to do to her.

She’s so proud of her body.

She like to show of her flesh and tone abs and humble brag about it.

I should grant her that wish of sharing her body with the world.

And before I do that, I’m going to enjoy her body.

Every

Single

Inch

………………………………………………………..

Get it here

Gumroad

Webstore