#turn negative thoughts into thanksgiving

[dwuerch-blog]

What Do Your Little Eyes See?

I saw this online quiz – and took the test. The results of the quiz would tell whether I am an Idealist, Realist or Surrealist, based on the color selections I made throughout the quiz. I’m not validating the merits of this quiz, but I think it “nailed it” for who I feel I am and always desire to be. I’m sure I didn’t start out with those qualities, but I obviously developed them and have BECOME…

[kirameliaoustern]

Boston Chris - part two

Summary: After Chris and Y/n broke up she is miserable, she didn’t wanted to face reality, a reality without Chris. When she finally gets better is when Chris slowly starts to realise his mistake… will they make up or leave their romance in the past?

Read to find out

Angst & fluff

Not prof read!

[Part one below]

The day after Thanksgiving

Walking down the stairs after seeing their car gone y/n wanted to break down and cry but weirdly she couldn’t.

She just felt empty.

Chris was so long a part of her life. Going to high school - Chris was there, her parents divorce - Chris was there, finishing school - Chris was there, starting her career - Chris was there, losing friends - Chris was there.

He was the only constant in her life. To what should she hold in to now?

Sitting down with her fluffy blanket around her and the bowl of cereals, she pulls her phone out and goes straight to tiktok.

That was a mistake. Chris edits were everywhere.

There was and edit that said ‚I miss Boston Chris‘ a slideshow with photos of Chris from 2020 to 2022 and photos from 2022 to 2024.

Yeah she missed Boston Chris to.

Her Boston Chris.

Even his fans noticed how he changed, it wasn’t a negative change but a change nonetheless.

That’s just life right? People grow up and change. She just never thought her and Chris would become one of those people, who grow up and grow apart.

Closing tiktok she unfollowed Chris on every platform. If she wanted to move on, she couldn’t stand seeing his face everywhere and how easy it is for him to just go on with life without her while she is barely holding on without him.

She noticed that he hadn’t deleted their pictures yet, she deleted theirs of them on her account.

Chris was her first love she can’t imagine ever loving someone that way again.

She got up back in her bed and stayed there for the next few days, her phone shut off.

4 days after the break up

She turned her phone on for the first time since the day after thanksgiving.

A few of her friends messaged her asking what happened but one message stuck out the most.

Vinnie Hacker: hey are u alright with all those things going on?

Delivered 3 days ago

Vinnie Hacker: hey snoopy let me know that you’re alive, getting worried

Delivered: 1 hours ago

Y/n smiled at that. Her and Vinnie texted a few times after they met at the party in April, not a lot maybe a handful of times.

They met once so she could give him his jacket back and he invited her to eat ice cream because he insisted that this Ice cream shop in LA was the best one in the world.

Y/n couldn’t say no to free ice cream, obviously.

As they were there y/n took 5 scrapes of the so called “snoopy spoon” sort. Y/n said it was the best one and Vinnie laughed at how excited she was for the ice cream so he began to call er snoopy.

It helped y/n to take her mind off things. It was 2 days after Chris and her had this big fight after the party, her last day in LA.

Chris said he didn’t had time to drive her to the airport so she had to ask Vinnie even tho she barely knew him at the time. He was the only other person she knew in LA.

Vinnie saw the faded hand print on y/n’s wrist. He didn’t comment on it and for that she was thankful. After that day Vinnie checked in on her every now and then.

He didn’t had any Intentions behind this. She was his friend and he was simply just worried.

That’s it right?

Y/n: I’m feeling weird but I’ll survive I guess.

Y/n: thanks for asking tho :)

Delivered: now

His messages were different from the others, they all wanted to know WHAT had happened and HOW.

Vinnie just wanted to know HOW she is doing. He didn’t care what everyone else said.

Vinnie Hacker: I’m in Boston next week. Wanna go for a little ice cream snoops?

Vinnie Hacker: it’s one me ;)

Y/n: yeah sure, ring me up when you’re here

Meanwhile

The triplets were back in LA since a few days.

Chris felt weird seeing all the media having an opinions on HIS relationship, well his ex relationship.

It left a bitter taste on his tongue, he didn’t know why.

He felt sad seeing that she deleted all their photos together and unfollowed him as if she was wanted to erase him from her life like he was nothing more than a stranger to her all this time. Like they didn’t had existed.

Chris didn’t wanted to delete their pictures on his account. It was proof that they DID happened. There was a time were they were real.

The boy was happy in these pictures, in those times. He wanted to keep them and reminisce them, appreciate them.

So he didn’t delete them. He didn’t unfollow her. He wanted to keep track on her. Seeing if she would be okay.

She was still important to him.

A week later

It was around 6 pm and Y/n and Vinnie were walking along the beach with their ice cream in hand, the sun is slowly setting, casting an comfortable orange around them.

“You would be fine living like that?” Y/n asked him curiously.

Vinnie just told her that he would like to live in a small house in the mountains and his beloved ones.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He asked in return looking down at her with a smile on his lips.

“It’s just I would never expect a guy like you to have this as his dream life”

“A guy like me?” He lets out a chuckle “okay what do you thought would it be according to ‘a guy like me’ ?

“Probably living in a big fancy house, partying everyday and living his best life with his friends and hundred of girls” Y/n finishes as she puts a spoon of ice cream into her mouth a smile also gracing her lips.

At that the boy let’s out a loud laugh almost dubling over.

“What” he spits out still trying to calm down

“If you think like that then you have the wrong image of me snoops” he said smiling.

“Okay you know I just thought-“ the girl was cut off as a group of girls around their age startet to surround them and asking Vinod for pictures.

Her smile fell. She knew what was coming. Had all this with Chris.

Flashback

Chris and Y/n were holding hands walking around the mall as girls came up to them and wanted Chris attention.

Chris let go off Y/n’s hands and began to fully concentrate on the beautiful girls.

She didn’t had any issues with Chris interacting with his friends, not at all she just didn’t liked how Chris just put her aside and ignored her as soon as he got attention from someone else.

As if she wasn’t important

It never was like that

It didn’t help that girls looked her up and down as if she wasn’t worth his time

Chris noticed this but acted like he didn’t

“Sorry Baby I just talk with them for a few minutes you can’t wait over there” he apologizes, pushing her away as if he was embarrassed of her

“It’s okay”

She sat down on a bench aside as Chris was swarmed with girls

It also didn’t help that the girls were super skinny and super beautiful.

Y/n wasn’t over weight but it still made her a little insecure.

She sat there for 30 minutes, alone.

This wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time this would have happened

End of flashback

“Hey can we take a picture?” One of the girls says.

He turns to y/n “is it okay for you?” He asks

“Yeah of course.” She was dreading the wait ahead of her.

“Sure we can” Vinnie said to the girls.

What Y/n didn’t expected was that he included her in the picture and the conversations.

He didn’t wanted her to feel left out.

The interaction only lasted for about five minutes because Vinny cut them off.

“Hey guys so I would really love talking more with you but we kinda have plans so..” he trails off pointing between him and Y/n.

She felt important, she liked that.

A smile began to form on her lips.

After that day Y/n and Vinnie began to spend more time together.

Vinnie started become some what of a best friend to her.

February 2024

“What’s got you in a sour mood?” Nick asked Chris as he had an attitude the whole day and well the last few days.

“Nothing” his brother answered with an annoying voice.

“No nicks right, you’ve been in a mood since days now Chris, what’s up?” Matt chimes in.

“Oh my god it’s nothing guys, get off my back.” Now he really was annoyed at them.

He opens his phone and his brothers saw Y/n instagram story was opened. Chris must have gone through it before they came to him.

He quickly closes instagram and opens tiktok.

But it’s too late now Nick and Matt saw it. In y/n story was a photo posted if Vinnie as they were in Boston in the Ice cream shop.

In the picture Vinnie said in front of y/n with a big smile on his lips as he scraped all the ice cream from the bowl.

The caption was:

he ate all my snoopy ice cream guess he has to buy me twice as much the next time 🤧

Next time

They will met again. This bothered Chris even tho he would never admit it.

Not to mention it was the ice cream shop y/n and Chris used to walk to on late summer evenings back when they were together.

The shop was only a twenty minute walk away from their street and both of them always appreciated the time together. It was one of the few times they were alone.

He noticed they spend a lot of time together after he and Y/n broke things off.

He saw her on his and him on hers story at least three times a week.

He hated it.

His brothers ,of course, saw the story’s too because they also followed them on instagram and instantly knew Chris was in a bad mood because of this.

“It this because of Y/n and Vinnie?” Nick asks slowly with hesitation in his voice.

The brothers knew that Y/n was still as sensitive subject for the boy.

Chris didn’t say anything but shut his of and ran his hands over his face.

“Bro if you want to get over her you have to stop stalking her alright.”

“I still keep track on her because I wanted to make sure that she would be okay not to watch her fall in love with another dude.” Chris says.

“What did you expect? That she would come running after you after you treated her like that?” Nick said.

“I just never imagined her with another guy.” Chris admits in a sad voice.

“After all the shit you pulled I’m surprised she didn’t dumbed your earlier.” Nick scoffs

“Hey it wasn’t that bad alright” Chris said defensively.

“We heard all those screaming Chris.” Matt adds to the conversation.

“I broke things off with her because I saw what it did to her and I couldn’t stand her getting hurt because of me.” Said the boy

“Why did you waited so long if you knew what it did to her?”

“Because I didn’t wanted to lose her. She’s was always there for me I thought I couldn’t live without her. It was selfish but knowing that she was in was still mine gave me security even tho our relationship wasn’t good at those times.” Chris admits.

“And you couldn’t just I don’t know talk to her?” Nick explains sarcastic.

“It wasn’t that easy. There were so many times I wanted to but there was already this… wall between us that I hoped it would just solve themselves.” Chris began.

“These months we barely talked I was scared that when we finally talked, she would tell me she wants to break up with me. I ignored her because I didn’t wanted to face the truth that I was losing her.” He finishes.

“Were you still in with her when you broke up with her?” Matt again.

Silence

“It doesn’t matter she’s clearly doing fine with Vinnie.” Chris said Vinnies name with disgust in his voice.

“Chris do you regret breaking up with Y/n?” Matt asked again.

Silence

Chris stood up from the couch and made his way outside.

“Where are you going?” Nick yells after him.

“Need to clear my head.” Chris response going for a walk.

March 2024

5 months after the break up.

“Wow you finally took down the pictures.” Vinnie commented as he came into Y/n room and saw all her photos with Chris were taken down.

“Yeah it feels like it was time.” She responds.

“I’m glad you did.” He smiled as he flopped down beside her in her bed. “Proud of ya snoops” he finished ruffling her hair.

She lets out a giggle at his actions.

“Sooo what are we doing now?” He asks.

Y/n gives him the look.

Thirty minutes later Vinnie and Y/n both had a cup full of ice cream and were walking back to her house.

“We really need to find something else to snack, I’m gonna gain a lot of weight when we eat Ice cream every time I see you.” Y/n said with a Chuckle leaving her lips.

“You’re gonna be beautiful either way.” Vinnie let out.

Y/n blushed slightly. It has been so long since someone had called her beautiful. It didn’t just came from anyone, it came from Vinnie Hacker.

“Ice cream is our thing y/n. We can’t change that.” Vinnie jokes as he bumbs his shoulder with hers.

“When you say so I guess I can’t do anything about it.” The girl plays along while rolling her eyes.

Vinnie chuckles as that.

They chatted for a while til they got to her house.

“You know I’ll always enjoy our ice cream stops.” Y/n said friendly.

“I’ll enjoy spending my time with you no matter what we’re doing. But I’ll admit it’s cute how you always got ice cream on your nose while you lick your cup clean.” The boys responds.

Y/n gets a warm feeling inside her at his words.

“I have Ice cream in my nose?!” She exclaims.

“Yeah.” He whispers as he watches her trying to rub the ice cream off of her nose with a smile on his lips.

She doesn’t notice the way he looks at her.

“Is it gone?” She asks looking up at him. She notices now how tall he is in comparison to her.

“Almost.” He says quietly while walking closer to her.

She notices how close he is as he’s lifting his hand to hold her cheek while taking his pointer finger to wipe the ice cream away.

He’s still holding her cheek as takes his finger in his mouth to lick the ice cream away.

“No it’s gone.” He whispers looking deep into her eyes.

His smile slowly falls as he begins to lean closer to her.

She also leans in and closes her eyes.

She feels her lips touch his and it feels different.

As he begins to move his lips against hers she starts to move hers to.

It feels so good to know someone wants to kiss her so much she feels it in his body language.

She steps closer, her hands move from his waist ob his stomach, over his chest and cups his cheeks. All while never parting her lips from his.

His arms move to grip her hips and pull her closer to him.

His lips are soft, softer than Chris’s. Chris lips were soft but always a little chapped not like - wait

Why is she thinking about Chris now?

She hasn’t thought about Chris in so long. Of his lips in so long.

It’s the first time she is kissing someone other than Chris.

Chris was her first kiss. Her first everything.

Now he isn’t the only boy she has kissed.

She realizes her lips have stopped moving a few second ago.

Probably as she realizes she was thinking of Chris.

Vinnie begans to pull away as he notices her lips won’t start moving again.

So they just stand there now looking at each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Vinnie apologizes quickly as panic begins to set in thinking he has done something wrong and ruined his chances with her.

“No no please you didn’t.” She pull his arms back around her. “I was just in my head for a moment.” She admits.

“If you’re not ready and still need time to -“ he starts but she cut him off. “No Vinnie, I enjoyed this really. It’s just you’re the first boy since.. you know. But I want to do this with you. I think I’m ready now.”

“Yeah?” He asks shyly.

“Yeah.” She reassures.

“Good cause I really like you.” He admits letting out a little breathless laugh.

She smiles up at him and pecks his lips.

“Good night Vinnie.”

“Night snoops”

April 2024

6 months after the break up.

The triplets arrived at their hotel an hour ago.

They were guests at the Ellen show today but Chris seems down.

Nick and Madi were out to get Starbucks across the street so Matt took the opportunity to talk with Chris.

“Hey man what’s up?” The boy begins as he sat down beside his brother.

Chris just looks at him and shakes his head. He knew what he was going to say.

“Save it matt”

“Talk to me”

“No”

“Why not, I could help you.”

Silence

“Chris come on.”

“…. I just uhm… lately I’ve been thinking about y/n… a lot”

“Okay and what about it?”

“I just wish.. really wish that I could call her right now and tell her all of this to hear her reaction.” He lets out a chuckle as he remembers all the time she was more excited than him about his news.

“She was the type of person who was more happy about your accomplishments than you. That was one of the many reasons I loved her.” He smiles at their memory of her as he tells Matt all of this.

“She was the first person I wanted to tell or see when I had good news. Wether it was a win at lacrosse practise, a good grade a new song I learned at the guitar as I was still playing.” He stops and his smile falls. “ I don’t have that anymore. I can’t just call her and tell her this but I want to so… ugh… so god damn bad.”

“I miss talking to her.” Chris continues. “She understood me. It becomes clear now how much I need this, her, y/n”

“There are so many things I want to tell her, tell her that we made it that the things we dreamed of became true. Did you know there was this one time in summer we were walking home this ice cream shop and jokes about us being on the Ellen show? And today we just were and I can’t share that with her.” He finishes.

Matt stays silent for a bit. He knew how much his brother has loved that girl.

“Chris.. uhm I don’t know how to tell you this but when you broke things off with y/n I knew you would regret that. I mean yeah we were suddenly known that you probably thought you wanted more but in the end you only ever wanted her u just lost focus on it for a while.” Matt said.

“And what do I do now?” He asks his brother, looking up at him with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Fantastic” Chris lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“Look were back home in Boston next month how about you just try to apologize?” Matt tries.

“After half a year?”

“Better late than never.” Matt puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a smile that Chris returns.

He will try.

May 2024

“Vinnie stop” y/n is laughing really hard as he tickles her.

“No, say it.” He smiles down at her.

“Never” she says between laughs.

“You wanted it this way.”

He starts tickling her side now.

“Alright alright I’ll eat it. You’re better at valorant than me.”

Vinnie stops tickling her, turns her around in the bed and hovers above her.

“See it wasn’t that hard.” He says with as teasing smile as he looks down at her.

“Mhm” y/n lets out, pulling at his necklace that dingles in front of her face.

Vinnie gets the hint and leans his head down to capture her lips with his.

Their tongues melt and y/n starts to smile as she feels his hand at her sides again m.

As Vinnie feels her smile against his lips he can’t help it but smile to.

He pull away and start to nuzzle his nose against hers.

“You’re smell so good” he sighs against her.

Vinnie knew he was deeply in love with her. Hell he probably fell in love with her after their talk that night at the party.

He just hopes she feels the same. Sometimes he worries she might just is with him as a distraction from Chris.

Last week he asked to be her boyfriend and she agrees. He really hopes she means this serious as it’s serious to him.

A little while later they are ready to go out on a date. He will took her to this new fancy restaurant at the end of the city.

Amelia’s

As y/n put her jacket on Vinnie came down the stairs.

“Are you ready beautiful” he says leaning down to kiss her neck as he opens the door.

“I’m am my handsome boyfriend.” He chuckles at that, leaning down to kiss her as he walks backwards out the door, lips still locked with hers, pulling her with him by her jacket.

As they were outside he finally pulls away. She smiles up at him as he lets go of her and opens his car door for her.

Right as she was about to go in she meets a pair of blue eyes. The blue eyes that she would recognize anywhere.

Even tho everything about him has changed, he got a new a hair cut a new style his eyes a still the same ones she fell in love with so long ago.

Chris stand there with an devastating look on his face. He looks like he’s about to cry.

The triplets just got out of the car. They come probably from the airport to visit their family.

Great timing y/n thought.

“Y/n” Vinnie says pulling her out of her staring/ trance contest with Chris.

She turns around and looks at him.

She gets in the car and Vinnie closes her door.

She didn’t see the lion Vinnie and Chris gave each other as Vinnie gets in the driver side and drives off towards the restaurant.

Y/n tries not to think about Chris and enjoys her time with Vinnie but Chris is still in the back of her mind.

3 hours later

Vinnie stops his car in front of y/n house and turns his head towards her.

“I had fun today” he says.

“Me too.” She responds and she means it.

He leans in and kisses her passionately.

As he pulls away they look deep in each other eyes.

“I love you” Vinnie says suddenly.

This is the first time either of them has said the L word.

Y/n’s eyes widen.

“You don’t have to say it back I just wanted you to know it.” Vinnie says quickly in a soft voice.

Y/n kisses him again, gives him a smile and gets out of the car.

“Good night Vinnie” she says

“Dream of me snoopy.” He says with a smile.

“Always.” Her smile is so big.

She watches his car drive off and as she can’t see it anymore she turns around and starts walking towards her front door.

“You’re moved on.” Her smiles drops as she hears his voice.

The voice she hadn’t heard in six months.

The girls stand still. She doesn’t want to turn around and face him.

“I knew you would be okay.” He continues as he steps closer now crossing the road.

“Did you?” Y/n asks still not turning around.

“Of course I did. I always knew you deserved better than what I gave you. That’s why I let you go.”

“Stop it.” Her was is calm and soft. No anger. She was never the type to hold grudges against people. She turns around. “I never wanted you let me go.”

“I had too. I saw what I did to you.”

“When you knew what you did to me all those months why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you talked to me?” She isn’t mad just curious.

“I don’t know.” She closes her eyes at his answer. “But I know that I regret everyday how I treated you. And I know that I’m so incredibly sorry.” She turns around and starts making her way to her door. She knows this isn’t nice but she couldn’t hear him talking anymore.

But he wasn’t finished. “And most importantly I know that I miss you more than anything.” She stops again and turns around to face him as she hears how desperate his voice has gotten.

“I miss taking to you, I muss telling you what’s going on in my life and I miss hearing what’s going on in yours. I muss hearing your laugh and kissing you, holding and.. and,” he stops for a short moment to take in a deep breath and calm his nerves. “ I miss being with you y/n.” He finishes his speech.

Y/n stays silent as they both just look at each other in the dark night.

The only lights are the moon and the street lamps a little away.

They never thought they would find themselves in this situation.

“Do you miss me?” He asks stepping closer to her.

“Chris..” she turns her head away

“Answer me please.” He sounds so desperate as he grabs her hand.

“Don’t you remember us? How good we were? Why are you wasting you’re time with him?”

She pulls away suddenly as she hears his words.

What they were.

The were he was talking about didn’t exist anymore and it never could. They were different people now.

She remembers all the times she felt not important to him. She never felt that way with Vinnie. And hearing how he talked about him made her angry for the first time that night.

Vinnie was the person who was there for her after he left.

He helped her repairing the things he broke.

If anything she was wasting her time waiting for him to show her love again.

“The us youre talking about does not exist anymore.” She said calmy looking into his eyes. “And my time with Vinnie is anything but a waste.” She turns around, for the last time she hopes.

“Are you happy with him?” Chris got mad. He was and at himself that he had let her go and he couldn’t unmake that mistake now.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes”

That broke him. She loved someone.. that wasn’t him.

He wanted to break down and cry, beg on his knees for her forgiveness.

“Wonder how longer that lasts.” Instead he only made it worse.

“What.” She turns around.

“I mean you see how it was with us. What made you think it will be any different with him? He’s also an influencer”

“He isn’t you.”

That shut him up

“He makes time for me, he doesn’t makes me feel useless, he won’t leave me.”

“Yeah alright” he lets out a sarcastic laugh. “ I see you when you’re come clawing back to me after he leaves you.”

“Fuck you Chris.” She finally tunes around and gets inside her.

As she slams the door shut she leans against it and slides down.

She starts so cry again. Again because of Chris.

The next morning

Y/n woke up to a headache.

She felt like shit, she honestly just wanted Vinnie.

Ding dong

Could Vinnie read her mind?

She made her way downstairs to open the door.

On the other side of the door was the last person she wanted to see.

Chris.

She bag an to close the door again.

“Wait” he calls out. “ I wanted to say sorry.”

“I have this feeling we were at this point before.” She responds.

“I wanted to say sorry for last night.”

She opens her door again.

“Come in”

“I over stepped. I should have never commented on your relationship with Vinnie.” It was hard for him to say what he’s about to say but it’s for y/n so he would do it. Because he would do anything for her.

“I’m happy if you’re happy. I really wanted to apologize last night but as I saw you with him.. y/n I just lost it. I never thought I would see you with another man.”

“It’s okay Chris” she tries.

“No it’s not. I admit I regret breaking up with you. But that was my mistake. I can’t blame you or him for that only myself. I mean I understand why he likes you.” Chris chuckles.

“You’re an amazing girl y/n i’m sorry if I ever made you feel like your weren’t.” She could see the honesty in his eyes.”if I’m completely honest I had hope that after our visit, we both Cousy start over -“

“Chris-“ she tries to cut him off.

“No let me finish. As I saw how he looks at you and how you look at him I knew that was it. I really wished we had a different ending. I mean for a very long time I thought I was going to marry you.” Letting out a soft laugh.

It was silent for a few seconds.

“I want to remember us as something I was happy about. I don’t want this us, the memory of us to be ruined. I want to remember the innocent us, the one who dreamed of the future and our biggest worriers were if we’re gonna have a ride to the arcade.” She said

They bitch chuckled at that.

“Chris I want to remember you as the boy I fell in love with in Highschool who would do everything to make sure I was happy. Not as someone who couldn’t care less if he saw me or no” the girl finishes.

“Y/n-“

“I know you didn’t mean too and I’m proud of everything you guys accomplished.”

“We were each others first loves. Let’s leave it at that.” She sends him a smile which he returns.

By now they were standing outside again.

“You will always mean something to me and you will always have a special place in my heart” he said to her

“You will always have a special place in my heart too.” She wispers in his ear as they hug each other.

As they pull sways she finishes with.”and you will always mean something to me too.”

After that Chris turns around and heads to his home.

“Say hi to Matt and Nick for me.” She yelled after him.

“Will do!”

As she turns back she sees Vinnie standing by her door. With flowers in his hands.

“You will always mean something to me?” Vinnie repeats her words as jealousy is written over his face.

“Vinnie let me-“ she starts

“Is this the reason you didn’t said that you love me back? Because of him?” He upset but more so sad.

“No Vinnie listen to me.”

He scoffs and gets in his car

She follows him and gets in the driver side.

“No stop, you listen to me now.” She said snatching the keys from his hands. “Me and Chris, we were together for over four years of course he still means something to me, he’ll probably always will have speical place in my heart but he is not the person I want to be with for the rest of my life anymore, thats you Vinnie. Because I love you.” The girl told him.

“Really”

“Yeah”

He leans over, cups her cheek and kisses her deep.

They both smile as he repeats “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Over and over again as he kisses over her cheek, nose, eyes, chin, neck. Everywhere he can reach.

“Say it again.” He says

“I love you”

“Again”

“I love you Vinnie”

Thanksgiving 2024

This year Vinnie celebrated thanksgiving with the y/l/n and the Sturniolo’s. It was great that they were all together again.

The triplets told them about their upcoming tour and new 8 million merch they’re about to drop.

Y/n and Vinnie told about how they going to move in together in London.

Who would have thought that a year ago?

As y/n and Chris sat opposite each other and smiled at one another they knew, they were always going to be alright and they would be beside each other when they would need the other.

I guess who ever said ‘it all works out in the end’ was right.

But he could have warned us about the hard way there…

-

A/n: heyyy loves I hope you guys enjoyed part two and are okay with who became endgame. I was thinking about making Chris and y/n endgame but I really liked the relationship with Vinnie.

Okay and maybe I have a slight crush on Vinnie at the moment.

Anyways let me know if you liked this part and want me to write more fics about different celebrities.

Also sorry again for spelling mistakes like I said English isn’t my first language.

Til next time, xoxo

[itsrlymine]

hi again it's 🧷!

the last 24 hours have been a whirlwind. i laughed. i cried. i peed myself. but im a person who likes a little journey. i've been affirming my ass off bc that's what works for me and i'm already feeling so much more control and better about myself. so thank u for the reality check.

also i have some successes....

yesterday, i thought i had a uti bc a girl keeps drinking apple cider cocktails i fear. it's just too good and it’s the holidays. 😫😭 but i kept telling myself i don't have one bc no way am i dealing with antibiotics (and no me time) for 2 weeks. and when i went to urgent care bc i still was a bit anxious in the 3D yk how it is. but guess WHAT. I WAS NEGATIVE 🤩. so that was cool. and they gave me stickers even though im like 20 which was very sweet LOL.

also today, i manifested that the type of pasta i needed for thanksgiving wasn't gone. bc if ur on tiktok and you've seen tini's mac and cheese recipe. the stores r sold OUT of cellentani shaped pasta... and i live in a big city.... so i made my sister go out and get 2 boxes on her way home from her rural ass college and she texts me like "hey you'll never believe this there were 2 boxes left all the way at the back of the shelf where no one would see them" and i was like😮‼️

but omg i'm like. wow!!! yay!!! all it took was a decision!!! i'm still learning to trust myself but i'm never turning back again. i'm embracing my title as queen god boss bitch of reality, and that even when i have off days it doesn’t mean bad things bc shit always works in my favor no matter what!!

All it takes is a decision!!!!! Yes babe like wtf lke this is so easy for you bc it is you!!! I love these successes of yours babe. You better keep drinking them apple cider cocktails. Lemme get one rq actually.

Health, appearance, food, getting people to do what you want.... All these "types" of manifestations are easy bc they are all the same!! There is only one way to get what you want and that is by accepting you have it. period.

This is amazing and I'm so proud of you babe!!!

[astxrwar]

ties that bind [3/8]

SUMMARY: Quentin Beck-- your old college biology professor-- is still a bastard. Apparently, you’re kind of in to that.

RATING: Explicit

WORD COUNT: 7k+

CONTENT WARNINGS: extremely under-negotiated kink, character-typical behavior (negging, being manipulative and an asshole, etc), me bestowing upon reader!character my own shameless oral fixation/pathological lack of a gag reflex, gratuitous sex, overstimulation, me pretending that condoms are optional (they are not irl!) the most FUBAR relationship ever etc.

PART 1 | PART 2 | [PART 3] | PART 4

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, there are many things that you are immeasurably grateful for in the aftermath.

One of the most immediate ones– which might have been surprising in the moment, if there were any parts of your brain capable of engaging in conscious thought at the time– is Beck’s ability to be completely unmoved by anything . The knock on the door had made your blood run cold, sent a shock of nervous adrenaline lancing through your body that had cut clean through the not-unpleasant haze of whatever the fuck you had been feeling before that–

Beyond cursing under his breath, his eyes flashing dark with some unidentifiable emotion, Beck didn’t react– didn’t panic– at all. He had fixed you with a pointed stare and pressed a finger to his lips– be quiet – and then, apparently otherwise unfazed, he had reached for his belt from the desk and began working it back through the loops of his dress pants. 

The knocking– a student, presumably, because it was office hours, after all– stopped after a few minutes, and then there was silence, and when that silence had dragged on for what you deemed to be an appropriately safe amount of time, you slipped out the door of his office, not looking back once. Beck didn’t say anything to you, and didn’t make any attempt to stop you from leaving – your brain had been buzzing, overstimulated and racing with frantic, scattered thoughts that you couldn’t hold onto long enough to complete before they would disappear from you and others would take their place, and because of that none of it had actually felt real then. It would have, probably, if you’d been forced to focus on him again for even a moment– but he didn’t say a word, and so you didn’t have to, and you were glad for that, too.

You don’t remember getting back home, only that you must have. It had been a Friday, another thing you’re grateful for, because looking at yourself in the mirror of your apartment bathroom after having mechanically directed yourself through the process of a too-hot shower, there was a rapidly-darkening bruise at the base of your throat, another right over your jugular– something you knew, instinctively, in a distant and far-away part of your brain, would be there for a while. The sight of it triggered a twinge of something, like an echo, the flutter of your slightly-uneven pulse quickening in response– but it was still too recent to really register, then, still felt like a fantasy, or some strange hallucination existing in the realm somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.

It’s not until probably about eleven at night that everything slots into place and the memory fully realizes itself, integrates into the collection of all the other facts and realities that you know to be true. You’re laying sprawled out on your bed, motionless, staring up at the slowly-turning blades of the ceiling fan in the dark; these moments trickle back in reverse-order, in broad strokes, mostly. And maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re tired and you’re not thinking straight or really thinking much at all, but also maybe for other reasons that you refuse to acknowledge or elaborate on– but the very first thing you recall in its’ entirety, in brilliant, blinding detail, is what he’d said to you, his mouth low over your ear and his breath coming fast and hot–

Come on, honey. It plays back in your head, the edge to it, biting and cruel, not really urging you on as much as just telling you, like he knew that he was going to make you cum and he knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him if you’d even wanted to–

The surge of heat that flushes through you at the memory is so immediate and overpowering that it shocks you to your core. Your breath catches and then escapes in a totally involuntary, inarticulate sound, and you cover your mouth with your hand and screw your eyes shut as tight as you can— because after that it’s like the floodgates have opened or the dam has been breached and whatever wall you’d constructed between yourself and what had happened is gone, destroyed, swept away in the rush of everything you’d repressed rearing up to the forefront of your mind again, drowning out any other thought in a sea of white noise.

The mess of emotions that surges up with it is thorny and unfathomable and entirely too complicated for you to even begin to extricate, but you can recognize immediate, surface sensations, and wanting is one of them, the strongest one, probably, followed by fury and frustration and shame, none of which, you realize– alone or together– even come close to the intensity of your desire. Which is fucking embarrassing, honestly, what the fuck had he done to you? What the fuck had you let him do? And more importantly why and how do you already know with such a crushing and steadfast and terrible certainty that you’d let him do it again?

Your mind brings to the forefront, completely unbidden, the thought of what Beck might be doing, right now– you wonder if he’s thinking about it, like you are, but your instinct tells you that he’s probably not. He’s probably doing whatever the fuck it is he normally does at this time, collected and generally unfazed; you imagine that if he had any idea of you, the state you’re in, he’d smile one of those infuriatingly condescending smiles like every other time he’s managed to burrow his way under your skin, and your cheeks and your chest burn with an all-too-familiar embarrassment.

It’s not fair.

There’s an ache between your thighs again, a need, pulsing and trembling and wearing incessantly on the foundations of your fucking psyche, and you really, really, really want nothing more than to ignore it, to just roll over and go to sleep and not give him another inch of your resolve or the fucking satisfaction, but–

But the look he had fixed on you, before he kissed you, it plays behind your eyes; the feeling when he did kiss you, finally, how it had sated that frustration inside in a way that the confrontation hadn’t, better than anything else ever had to a degree that it was fucking frightening. 

You don’t push the thoughts away. 

So. Yeah. You’re grateful for a lot of stuff, in the immediate aftermath. Most of all, you’re grateful that it’s Thanksgiving break– that there are a whole ten days before you have to see Beck again, if only because it’s reason enough to justify that touching yourself to the thought of him later that night isn’t going to just make this whole thing that much fucking worse.

Ten days, it turns out, is not actually long enough for any of what you’re feeling to fade.

Come Monday morning you’re so high-strung that your anxiety is palpable– you drop your backpack on the floor twice just trying to hang it on the hooks on the wall outside of the lab, which is apparently out of character enough to warrant a concerned Hey, everything all right? from Dr. Banner, which absolutely does not help. Somehow, you manage to spin something about underestimating what a ten-day-break from XL coffees does to a person’s overall tolerance for caffeine, a spur-of-the-moment excuse that you’re quite proud of, especially considering it gets a laugh out of both him and your fellow grad students. 

You don’t actually see him at all that day. There are moments where you can almost completely forget about it, absorbed in lab busywork or chatting with labmates or grading assignments for Dr. Banner’s undergraduate microbiology class, but then there are also the moments where you’re alone and unoccupied and the thoughts are unavoidable, that same turmoil of emotions leeching up to the surface like a fresh bruise that you just can’t stop yourself from pressing down on.

Tuesday, too, is much of the same, and then Wednesday and Thursday after that; you’d have thought it would get easier with time, but it actually doesn’t– the longer it’s been since that day the fuzzier and more distant the memory, sure, but that frustration starts to build again in its’ absence. It’s kind of ironic, in a grating, infuriating way, the fact that you’re pissed off this time– for the first time– because he’s avoiding you, instead of the opposite. But it’s also so just like him– of course he’s unaffected, immune to this, and of course you aren’t, and of course he doesn’t give a shit. None of this is new, not really, it’s just different.

On Friday you end up having to stay late because one of your labmates fucks up a chemical extraction procedure that you were meant to be handling for the undergrads, meaning somebody has to remain in the lab for an extra three hours to run the dry ice bath and then transfer and separate the extract– it can’t be the person who actually fucked up, because they have work, apparently. But it could be you, of course, with nothing better to do, and you readily volunteer, because doing something is actually leagues better than sitting at home and wallowing in your myriad of unresolved issues– anger, mostly, but also other less appropriate things that you don’t want to think about.

So.

It’s five-thirty when the extraction is finally finished. You’ve run through the motions of locking up, putting all of the supplies back in their respective places, shutting off the overhead lights, kicking the door jamb out from where it’s wedged, the door itself having already been locked when Dr. Banner left at three. It’s November– December, now, actually– and so it’s dark and near-freezing outside by the time you’re done; the other end of the chemistry building is nearest to the parking lot, and so you decide that, in the interest of retaining feeling in your fingers, you’ll go down through the building and exit on the other side, thereby limiting the amount of time you actually have to spend out in the cold. 10/10, all-around solid plan.

Except Beck’s office is on this end of the building. You know that, and the knowledge prickles somewhere at the base of your spine as you sling your backpack over your shoulder and head in that direction, but you also know that it’s late, and that he doesn’t really ever try to hang around past four– much less past four on a Friday– so you’re comfortably certain he’ll have already gone.

(You’re wrong, because of course you are.)

You’d been thinking about what you were going to make for dinner, staring down at the faded tiling pattern on the floor and not really paying attention, until the sound of a door closing echoes down the hallway. You glance up, instinctively, drawn towards the noise, and–

Oh, fuck.

You see him before he sees you, and your brain kind of– short-circuits , freezes and stalls and shuts down like a glitchy computer. He’s turned with his back facing you, probably locking up. If you were thinking more clearly, maybe you would have turned back before he finished, but you don’t, can’t, frozen to the spot and unblinking.

Beck turns from the door, stowing the key ring in his pants pocket, and when he sees you his expression shifts from a kind of neutral ambivalence to one of those too-knowing smiles that had always struck you as just a little bit wrong in ways you hadn’t been able to figure out, not until he’d pinned you against his desk and–

You swallow, screw your eyes shut tight for a moment, and try your best to rid your mind of the thought. 

“Hey,” Beck calls out to you, “Heard you might be here late, honey.”

His tone is deceptively mild, conversational, but even so the nickname still kindles that heat again, brings all those thoughts you were trying so hard to suppress flooding right back to the surface, the echo of come on, honey that had played back endlessly any time you’d so much as closed your eyes ringing in your ears, somehow even louder than your thundering heartbeat. It takes an embarrassingly long second before the rest of what he’d said starts to filter in, drowned out at first by the immediate surge of heat that had flooded you; he knew you were here, you realize, and he’d probably been waiting for you. Waiting to get you alone.

Three weeks ago that thought would have made you furious. Now, though–

“Yeah,” you say, still moving towards him– towards the door, fuck; even the way you phrase the thought in the privacy of your own head feels like you’ve betrayed yourself. You’re aiming for nonchalance in your reply but you miss that mark terribly, breathless with anticipation and unable to fight off the impulse to shiver.  “Somebody fucked up an extraction that we needed to have ready for Monday, so I said I would stay—Dr. Banner’s gone to New York City for a conference, or I would have just come in over the weekend.”

You’re talking a lot, you realize, the words tumbling out of your mouth with a far greater ease than you’re used to when it comes to him; you know he’s able to tell, that he’s aware of the difference, he must be. But he doesn’t react or respond to it at all, just watches you, eyes dark and warm and expression infuriatingly unreadable.

“You’re a good student, to help out like that,” he says, after a long, unbearable pause, “Bruce is lucky to have you.”

A part of you has trouble comprehending the sentence as complete, still waiting for the other shoe to drop; the inevitable backhanded insult you’ve learned to expect whenever he says something even remotely positive, but it doesn’t come. That’s-- actually worse, somehow.

Beck tips his head towards the door. “Leaving? I’ll walk with you.”

That hum that had started in your body at the sight of him, the one that felt like it reached every part of you, even down to your bones; it ramps up higher. “Yeah, okay.”

He doesn’t smile, but his mouth quirks up at the corners, like he wants to.

You walk in silence, your heart in your throat, a rush of energy flooding through your body, suffusing your cheeks with warmth and filling your ears with the thunderous echo of your pulse and driving a reflexive, arrhythmic twitch in your fingers that you try to hide in the bulky sleeves of your coat. This is probably the longest amount of time you’ve spent in each other’s company without him trying to upset you on purpose or you barely restraining yourself from ending up at his throat since– the last time. The thought of it– what had happened the last time, even as abstract and ill-defined as the notion was– still makes things worse, heightens your awareness of the space between your bodies; closer than you ever would have allowed him to be, before all of this. Still not close enough.

Beck trails to a stop at the end of the hall where the staircase to the upper floors sits across from the double doors that lead to the parking lot outside, having ended up a few steps ahead of you. You mean to just keep going; the door is within your line of sight, barely ten feet away, but it’s like as soon as you’re faced with having to move past him your feet are rooted to the ground, frozen, immobilized.

He’s staring at you again. You fold your arms over your chest, glad for the shapeless mass of your oversized winter coat that hides your reflexive, miniscule shiver.

“Ah–Y’know what, I forgot, there’s some things I need to grab for my lab,” he says after a moment, as if it had only just occurred to him,  jerking his head towards the door to the supply closet that’s tucked underneath the adjacent staircase and offering you an apologetic grimace that feels— exaggerated. Pre-planned. Performative. “This’ll probably take a minute. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

You have a response already half-formulated in the pause that follows before he adds, somehow still casual, “Unless you think you could stay a little longer and help me out.”

The implication isn’t even really an implication at all, evident in the way that he’s looking at you, obvious and unrepentant, and the tremble that it elicits from somewhere near the base of your spine, that knot of anticipation in your belly twisting and turning and coiling tighter– you already want it, him, and you’re certain he must be able to tell, the way your pupils, which are probably dilated already, must blow out even wider, like planets, like deep, endless oceans of black–

“It’s late, though, and I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing.” That edge is back, mocking, sly, manipulative like he’s trying to trick the words out of you– no, actually, nothing. He turns to the door underneath the staircase and reaches for the key ring he’d shoved in his pocket earlier; you’re jealous, somewhere deep down, at how steady his hands are, firm and methodical, as he flips through a set of near-identical keys until he finds the one to the closet.The click of the lock is nearly drowned out by the sound of your own pulse thundering inside your head, every inch as unsteady and as volatile as you feel. 

The door swings outwards on creaking hinges. Beck fixes you with this look; like he’s already won, just by virtue of the fact that you haven’t moved. Maybe he’s right. He’s always been capable of deciphering exactly what you were feeling at any given moment in time, regardless of whether or not you wanted him to, always been better at getting you to rise to his bullshit than you ever were at getting him to rise to yours. He knows you, knows what you’ll do oftentimes much sooner than even you do. And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising— he’s a tenured professor, he taught you for four years, and he’s got nearly two decades on you. He was always going to be better at this.

Whatever. You don’t really care if you’re proving him right. You’re tired of fighting it, and you were never all that good at it anyway.

The inside of the supply closet is dim and dusty and cluttered and probably covered in cobwebs, but you don’t care. He’s touching you before the door has even closed all the way, stripping your coat from your shoulders and pulling you towards him by the waist, the press of his hand wide and firm and so fucking warm even through the fabric of your sweater; and fuck yes, god, even that, that one point of contact, it soothes that burning restless ache that had built inside of you for the past two weeks better than any of your own attempts at doing so ever did—

You’re the one who closes that last sliver of space, this time– and it should probably be surprising, how eager you are to do it, to drag him down by his shirt collar and push yourself up on your toes and kiss him, that nameless thing inside that’s followed you for the last two fucking weeks finally going quiet. He makes this noise against your mouth in the very first few moments, a rough and low and surprised sound, like he’s taken aback for a second. But it’s only a second, and then your back collides with the sharp plastic edges of the overstuffed rows of shelving that line the walls of the room hard enough that it forces the breath right out of your lungs, and in the moments where that gasp has your mouth opened up he licks into it, his tongue curling over your teeth and sliding against your own and wringing out a sound from you that you don’t even really try to stop this time. 

Beck hasn’t even taken his coat off, you realize dimly. It doesn’t fucking matter. His thigh is pressed up between your legs, the pressure obliging the warmth there, and you can feel his cock already hard against the jut of your hip– you wonder, hazy and far-away, if he was hard before this, before you’d even kissed him, if he had been thinking about it the whole time he was walking you to the door. He works a hand up under your sweater, and you lean into it– rough, large, warm, god, he must just run hot, because you can feel him even in the spaces where your bodies aren’t touching, his presence, like the air around you is made a few degrees warmer for it. 

When that hand under your sweater smooths down your abdomen to thumb over the button of your jeans there’s this frantic swell of panic at the immediate and overwhelming flush of heat that accompanies it, the trembling pulse between your legs— he hasn’t even touched you yet. He’s going to take you apart, again, and it’s not even going to be fucking hard. You want him to, shivering at the thought, but it’s your pride that stops you– for all that bullshit about being done fighting him, you’re not, really. 

A four-year habit is hard to break. Go figure.

It doesn’t take all that much force to push him the grand total of two feet backwards until his back is to the opposite row of shelves in the closet; he lets you, or more accurately, he doesn’t resist, if only because you don’t think he’s expecting it. With the door closed the little room is dark, the shape of him just a darker outline against a field of murky, shapeless gray, the only light the sliver of it from outside that spills out at your feet. It works out, though, because you can see everything that clutters the floor– old paint cans and ancient long-retired confocal microscopes and unlabeled industrial-sized plastic buckets of god-knows-what– and you can see right where there’s the space for you to kneel.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Beck says when you do; the question is clearly rhetorical, amused and a little patronizing, like he thinks you’re out of your depth again. You hate that it gets to you, but it does, brings that familiar annoyance searing back, bright and vicious and spiteful in the pit of your stomach. It’s the way that he’s looking at you that really does it– like he thinks that this is beyond you, or maybe just that he thinks he’s somehow uniquely fucking special, impossible to satisfy, and all of that– every possibility, every interpretation– it all pisses you off. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you reply, irritated, stubbornness ticking at the muscle of your jaw. “Do you want me to or not?”

Beck laughs at that, loud and sharp and something that might have even been pleased. He reaches to run his fingers through your hair and pulls, just a little, the pinpricks of pain rippling across your scalp as he forces your head back so that you’re looking at him, really looking at him, not just sneaking glances like you had been before. He has one of those bared-teeth smiles, something that base and instinctive part of you interprets as a challenge, even though it doesn’t really feel like it’s meant to be one. It feels like it’s meant to be a warning, maybe. Or a threat.

“Go ahead, honey,” he says, grinning wider. 

Beck doesn’t react at all when your hands find his belt, his breathing steady and his expression even and his posture annoyingly fucking relaxed; doesn’t move to help you with it, either, satisfied to just watch as you work it open and tug his jeans and his boxers down his thighs. He’s still unaffected even when your palm slides over the hard outline of his dick through his boxer briefs, and, god, if that doesn’t just piss you off more– the way that he’s just so effortlessly immune to this, the same way he’s always been immune to any of your retaliatory attempts to incite him. The painfully obvious way that you’re not; the way the sight of his cock, hard, twitching lazily, makes this unbearable warmth pool somewhere inside of you, your breath catching somewhere, hesitating enough that you know he must notice. No, you– you’re whatever the complete opposite of immune is. Vulnerable. Hyperreactive. Exposed. 

Except– 

When you reach out to touch him, several things happen at once; the muscles in his thighs twitch and his posture stiffens and his breathing goes still, all just for a fraction of a second before he’s relaxed again. That  tension is gone so quickly that you might have thought you’d imagined it, if it didn’t happen again when you lick a long wet stripe all the way up from the base of his cock and then again when you curl your tongue in a slow circle around the tip–

Maybe, you think, maybe he’s not really immune to any of it. Maybe he just hides it better.

It becomes more obvious when you put your mouth on him, not even really halfway; in the near-dark of the room you can see the shadow of him as he drags his hand down the lower half of his face, can hear, as wound-up and hyper-aware you are, the trembling breath as it leaves him, hitching when your tongue presses up against the underside of his cock as you pull back and move down again, further each time–

“Fuck,” Beck groans under his breath, the sound rough and low. “Oh, fuck, honey.” 

Yes, you think, the rush of satisfaction so immediate that it takes you by surprise; whatever flicker of shame that inspires in you is ridiculously easy to silence. Beck makes another noise, wordless and low, pretense of invulnerability abandoned-- his other hand has wrapped around one of the supporting beams of the shelf, like he’s trying to steady himself, and when you finally reach all the way down to the base and stay there, just for a moment, unmoving, his grip tightens around it so hard that the flimsy plastic cracks in his fist. Your answering laugh when you pull back is more of a hum than anything, muffled by him, cheeky and pleased– but that ruins it, whatever small amount of control he’d granted to you, something bordering on growl vibrating out of him that you would probably call touchy if you were able to speak, and then his other hand fists in your hair and he pulls, hard, drags your head back down until his cock is buried in your throat and your nose is pressed right up against his stomach. 

It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does— your tongue pressed flat against the base of his dick, your mouth flooding with saliva and your throat working around him and his hand on the back of your head, holding you there, the tremble that shudders through the solid muscles of his abdomen so close you can feel it — but your body is betraying you, again, again, just like before, your thighs pressing together with your hand squeezed between them, and even the insignificant pressure of your own palm through your jeans is enough that you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself from making some embarrassing involuntary sound if it wasn’t for him, the way he’s compressing your fucking voice box–

There’s the snap of plastic again, that same beam from earlier; he needs to let go of it, you think, the thought fuzzy as he pulls his cock out and saliva trails down your chin and then fuzzier still as he rocks it back in again, or he’s going to break it clean in half. 

He moves like that for a while and you just let him, or worse, you fucking enjoy it; until eventually the pressure of his hand at the base of your skull lessens and his grip goes slack and you can move again, your tongue curling up around the tip of his cock and then pressing firm to the underside of it when you take him back into your mouth– 

“God, honey, you’re such— such a terminal fucking overachiever, aren’t you,” Beck says, that edge in his voice, biting and mean, and you would roll your eyes at him if you could trust yourself enough to even open them, terrified that whatever way he must be looking at you right now would simply cause you to evaporate on the spot. The words alone are rough and cruel and dripping with condescension, but there’s still, contained within them, that begrudging admission that it’s good, that compliment hidden inside an insult or maybe the other way around, and it pleases you in a way that you know it really shouldn’t. He makes another sound, slurred and inarticulate, fist tightening in your hair— that control, it’s slipping through his fingers, that immaculate and insufferable level of self-constraint shattered and crumbling, and you’re dizzy with the thought of it; that you might be able to finally do something–even just once– that might actually get to him.

It doesn’t take long, after that. He wavers between letting you move, as willing and embarrassingly fucking eager as you are to do it, and moving for you, hand firm on the back of your head as he fucks your open, waiting mouth. You can tell when he starts to get close, passes the point of being able to fight it off just by slowing down, the muscles in his thighs twitching and his breathing turning rough and irregular, hitching and catching and forced out of his chest–

“Fuck,” He grits out, his palm suddenly flat against your forehead, pushing you back, away, muscles gone rigid and still. “Don’t.”

“Why,” you reply, breathless, aiming for something like teasing or taunting but ending up so shot through with desire that it doesn’t matter what you were even trying for anyways. 

He doesn’t even warrant that with a response, just looks at you, eyes dark and pupils blown out so wide that you can’t even tell where the sliver of his irises even begins– he looks at you like you must be fucking stupid, like the answer is obvious, and—

You shiver.

Yeah. It is, actually, obvious.

He drags you up from the ground by the collar, pulls so hard that you stumble to your feet, off-balance, and nearly come crashing into him. He only looks at you— at your mouth, swollen and bruised and spit-slick and red— for a moment, and then he kisses you again and you melt for it without so much as a single fucking thought. 

Beck forces you back against the other set of shelves; it’s not hard, with only about four feet of space spanning the whole room and with you swaying and unsteady and caught up in chasing his tongue as it roves through your mouth, for him to push you until the hard plastic corners are digging into your spine and the backs of your thighs again. He doesn’t let you touch him, grabs your wrist and pins it to the edge of the highest shelf up above your head when you try, fingers squeezing so hard that it hurts a little bit– that sends a sharp thrill of self-satisfaction flickering through you, the thought that he can’t take it, that you got him that close–and then he tears at the button of your jeans, the zipper, yanks them and your underwear only halfway down your thighs, just far enough to be able to–

The noise you make when he touches you is drawn from you so abruptly that you can’t soften it or even really try to make it sound less desperate; not that it would matter anyways, with the way that your body arches up, into him, how wet you know you already are despite having spent the last fifteen fucking minutes with his dick in your mouth and without him even really touching you at all–

“You fucking liked that– you were getting off on it, weren’t you, honey,” His mouth breaks from yours just to say it, like he knows what you’re thinking or maybe just like he’d been thinking the same thing, not even really asking as much as just stating a fucking fact,  that stupid smug smile spreading wide across his face again.

“Fuck you,” you manage to reply, not even really succeeding in saying it with any amount of vitriol, voice breaking at the last syllable; all he has to do is touch you again and everything inside of you goes hot and white and blank , your free hand flying out to grab a fistful of his shirt, so tight that your knuckles are drawn and bloodless, squirming uselessly against the solid unyielding hold he has on your other wrist as he works two fingers inside of you and curls them and finds some horribly sensitive something that you hadn’t even known was there, rubs the rough pad of his thumb against your clit as he works them deeper and no, no, fuck, it’s not fair–

He doesn’t make you come like that, even though it probably would have been so easy, and maybe later tonight or tomorrow or sometime next week you’ll remember to be ashamed of how absurdly fucking easy it always is for him to get anything from you, even this, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. He fucks you open on his fingers until you’re whining and rocking back against him and begging for it in all but actual words, and as soon as the muscles in your abdomen start to tense and the pitch of your moans shifts up higher he stops short and tells you to turn around. You don’t bother to suppress the sound that elicits from you, petulant, frustrated and wavering, but you still do what he says; when he tells you to bend, to put your hands out flat on the shelf, you do that, too, without even really thinking about it. There’s something in the back of your mind that’s absolutely indignant at your immediate compliance– add it to the fucking long list of things you’ll think about later– but it falls silent as soon as he takes the space behind you.

His hand skims your hip and you take in a shaky, shuddering breath– you can’t see him, what he’s doing, and everything in your body is still wound so tight, the combination driving such a vicious surge of anticipation that it feels for a second like you’re going to come apart at the seams, or that you might have already and just failed to notice.

Beck notches the head of his dick right between your thighs, presses forward a little, urges you up on your toes until he’s aligned just right– there, right there, you think, trembling, yes, fuck, come on, please— and then he leans over you, his arms caging yours, his much bigger hands covering your smaller ones so completely, pushing them harder into the gridded plastic lattice of the shelf. You can feel his breath against your neck, warm, the heat of his body bleeding right through his clothes, soothing the prickle of goosebumps that had spread across the exposed skin of your lower back where the edge of your sweater has ridden up, bunched around your waist. It’s cold, here, much colder than it had been in the hall– presumably because there’s no heat to the storage closet, because why would there be– and that just makes it better, honestly, how much larger he is, how fucking warm. 

Please, you want to say, only remembering your pride at the last second, but then he moves closer and pushes into you anyways like he already knows what you want, and that’s fucking gone, too.

This time— balanced up on your toes, your hands braced against the shelf, the latticed plastic surface biting into your palms and his hands over them, keeping them there, your legs only spread as wide as the jeans pulled half down your thighs will even allow— you know it will take even less to break you than it did the day in his office. Beck is barely moving, short shallow motions as he works you open, but even still he’s already nudging something sensitive and electric inside of you that has your head dropping down against your outstretched arms, against his, too, where they overlay your own. It’s the angle, probably, you manage to think,  flushed and shivery and barely breathing; or maybe it’s just him, and he’s just too good at this. He finally bottoms out and the noise you make– stretched out and filled up and satisfied, that stupid needy thing inside of you gone completely fucking silent at last-– is so unlike you that for a second you don’t even really register it as your own, even muffled as it is by the fabric of his shirt where your face is pressed to the inside of his arm. There’s a twitch in your fingers, like you’re searching for something to hold onto, and Beck obliges that with a mocking chuckle that rumbles out low in his chest and vibrates against your back– he threads his fingers through yours, his palms over the tops of your hands. There you go, honey, he murmurs against your neck, saccharine, patronizing, like you’re this poor pathetic helpless thing, and any other time you probably would have hated him for it. Maybe you still do, even now, and maybe that just makes it even better.

There is something– probably something significant– that is just deeply wrong with you both, you realize, and then he starts to fuck you in earnest and the thought vanishes. 

This isn’t anything like the last time– every inch of you goes soft and pliant like you’re melting beneath him, not fighting it or fighting him or even trying to. Every time he rocks into you it wrings out this desperate hiccupping keen that might have just been the same continuous sound, stretched out, fading and then brought back to life again before it can ever really end. He releases one of your hands to reach down to touch you, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across your clit, and that involuntary noise he’s pulling out of you pitches up higher in response, taking on this breathless shivering quality that you recognize– you’re still fucking wound up from before, vibrating with it.

You realize far far too late that he fucking did this to you on purpose, made sure to keep you from touching him, make sure to get you close before he’d even started. The thought of him fucking you past your rapidly-approaching orgasm triggers something panicky and nervous inside of you; anticipation and apprehension and the sinking realization that you had missed something like you always do, and he had gotten the better of you, again. But there’s nothing you can do about it, really, not now, its’ approach inevitable no matter how hard you try to force your breathing to steady or your muscles to relax–

You know he must be able to feel it, just like last time, the way that you tighten around his cock, the shivering pulse of your muscles and the tremble that runs the length of your whole body. He still hasn’t stopped touching you, and he hasn’t stopped moving, either, the shelf and all its’ contents shaking with the rhythm of it, and you can’t silence the sounds or even try to mute them, the wordless inarticulate whine that pitches up higher each time his cock sinks back inside— 

“Be quiet,” he pants against your shoulder. His hand– the one that had still been covering yours and pressing it harder against the latticed surface of the shelf– it moves up to your throat and then higher still, curling around your jaw, and you should remember to be embarrassed about how quick you are to just let him when he pushes his fingers into your mouth, should be fucking ashamed the way your tongue roves around them, instinctive, obedient, but you can’t think , can barely even remember to breathe. It’s somehow even worse, more overwhelming, now that he’s not bracing his weight on the shelf, the bulk of it resting against you, makes it so that his cock reaches somewhere even deeper inside, his other hand still splayed flat below your stomach, his fingers still against your clit, firm, not really even moving, the friction generated just from the force of him fucking you enough to make something drop out of the pit of your stomach like you’re free-falling because you know with a startling and crystal-clear certainty that you’re going to— that he’s going to make you— again—

Beck must know it too (of course he does, of course) because he presses the fingers in your mouth further in and down firm against your tongue to quiet the noise that breaks out of you when you come for a second time, something that probably would have been closer to a sob than anything, but stifled as it is it just comes out as another incoherent sound. You’re shivering, muscles in your calves and your thighs strung taut, sore and burning like they might give out under you, and when he starts to really touch you again you almost bite down on his fingers, hypersensitive and overstimulated and unable to even move to escape it, with the shelf in front of you and the weight of him pressed to your back–

Maybe he makes you come again, or maybe he doesn’t— it doesn’t really matter, anyways,  the usually-clear delineation between your orgasm and the build to it has been erased, your body so high-strung you can’t even tell the difference anymore. It all just bleeds together, like trying to stay standing and upright in the ocean, in water that’s chest-deep, knocked down by a wave and only barely able to regain your footing before there’s another, and another, and another, rhythmic and relentless and entirely without respite. Beck chuckles, breathless, the sound low and mocking and warm against the shell of your ear,  laughing at you, at the state of you, presumably, and it just drives that tide even higher, until you can’t keep your head above water even in the spaces between the waves.

You should have expected this, you think, with whatever part of your brain that’s still even capable of it— just like any other time you’d ever tried to get the better of him. He always pays you back tenfold.

It could be forever or it could be ten seconds before his own breathing starts to catch and turn ragged, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway, each of his thrusts making something bloom hot and bright across the backs of your eyelids, closed as they are– actual physical evidence of your brain short-circuiting, of everything falling apart; your thoughts, your sense of time, your tenuous, tattered hold on fucking reality. He moves both hands to your waist to pull you back against him, pace growing rougher, more erratic, and without his fingers in your mouth to mute the sound you have to bury your face in the crook of your arm to stifle it as best you can, fingers twitching uselessly, catching in the grids of the shelf and curling there even though it makes the tendons burn, holding tight like you’re trying to anchor yourself to it, to something , anything at all—

“God, fuck, yes,” Beck groans into the crook of your neck, one arm wrapped all the way around your waist and holding you there, flush against him, finishing so fucking deep inside that you think you can feel it in every inch of you, the steady, slowing pulse of his cock, the warmth of it, his trembling, indistinguishable from your own.

It takes a while for everything to settle, after that; for his breathing to steady and for your body to stop shaking and your brain to return to some approximation of functioning . You notice the details in pieces; the crisscrossed marks on your palms and forearms, bitten into the skin there from the latticed grid of the shelf, the ache in the muscles and tendons in your thighs and your calves , the feeling more pleasant than painful.

Eventually, Beck pulls out and his weight shifts away and a shiver runs right through you at the immediate chill of the air in the space he had occupied, the absence of that warmth; you try to straighten up, to stand, but make the fundamental mistake of letting go of the shelf before thinking to check if your numb, trembling legs can even support your weight–

The warmth is back, and you don’t fall.  “Careful, honey,” he says, mocking, mouth pressed against your hair, steadying you in his arms; you don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s grinning wide again.

“You be careful, asshole, you’re gonna stain my sweater,” you reply, unthinking, only fuzzily aware of how it’s slid back down from where it was rucked up around your waist and the solid pressure of his dick against the small of your back, still mostly hard.

He huffs out a laugh.

“Oh, right , of course, my mistake. I’ll be sure to just let you fall next time,” he replies, languid and amused and still a little breathless— and something inside of you trembles, somehow, even fucked-out and shivery and already sated as you are, going a little more lightheaded just at the thought.

Next time.

You don’t even bother to argue or to even act affronted at the presumption, the ability to even shape the words, much less deliver them convincingly, beyond anything you’re capable of right then.

His grip tightens around you for a split second before he lets go, and you’re sure that, like everything, Beck must have noticed that, too.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3176 (chapter 49)

a quick update to break yet another writer's block * sighs *

49. Another night in Hell's Kitchen

"Who's this fancy looking fella?" Foggy asks, taking in Matt's appearance when you two come to the office minutes before the work day begins.

"You like it?" Matt slowly spins around, showing off his new navy blue suit, paired with a dark red tie with small black dots.

"Did you sell your kidney or something to buy this? Jesus, you're making me look like a subway worker." Foggy laughs, coming to touch Matt's suit to feel the material.

"Nah, got a good deal." Matt smiles, adding, "all the glory should go to y/n, she managed to bargain a smaller price."

Your cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and you quickly turn around from Foggy and Karen to hang your coat. "The owner is a friend of my mom and well, your blindness really soothed his character."

"Wait, wait. I think I'm missing something." Foggy stands, one hand on his hips, and intently looks at the two of you. "I think I need an explanation."

"Y/n invited me for Thanksgiving dinner and we raided the shops later." Matt shrugs as if it wasn't a big deal to hang out with an employee... On a holiday. At her parent's house.

"I just couldn't let him be sullen the whole weekend while we're all away." Making way towards the kitchen for coffee, you also escape curious glances, and soon, clients start coming, pilling up in the lobby with Karen. You don't get a chance to talk with Matt until noon, as he spends most of the time with Foggy, talking to clients and running around the lobby to print documents. You, however, continue to work alone in the office until the lunch break, and just when you thought you were all going to grab a bite, and you could have a chance to smoke a cigarette or two, three loud bangs on your office door, ruin all of your plans.

*** 

"I'm sorry... But your son has been involved in..." you raise your eyebrows at the short-haired black woman and her 16-year-old son, "an armed robbery?" 

"Yes, I've already mentioned it four times."

"Sorry, I'm a bit... Not well today. So, Paxton, could you please tell me what exactly happened? If you want to stay out of jail, I need to hear every single detail." 

Paxton's mother crosses her arms, clearly unhappy with the treatment she was receiving, while Paxton was sitting on one of the armchairs, not particularly bothered by the whole situation. "Nothing. My mother is exaggerating." He shrugs, looking out through the window.

"I'm sorry, he's joking, right sweetheart?" His mother tries to gently touch his arm, but Paxton slides away as far as he can. "He told me everything last night. That's why I came here without an appointment. I noticed how many people are here, I am so glad you could take us in during your break."

"Mrs Harris..." You begin, tapping your pen on your notebook, "enough with the pleasantries. I need the details so I could tell you if I'm able to help you and Paxton. Now, please, talk."

"Remember that article a couple of weeks ago about how five men robbed a jewelry store?" She asks, casting her eyes to the ground; you give her a negative answer and wait for a more detailed explanation. "Well, Paxton was involved in it."

"What did you steal?"

"Rings, necklaces, earrings. I found a box of them in his room." She answers for Paxton.

You look at the boy, noticing a small smirk he just bit away. "What were you planning to do with them, Paxton?"

"Sell. It's all gold." He rolls his eyes.

"Why?"

"I need money." Paxton says in a hurtful tone, sending a glare towards you.

"What for?" Your question hangs in the air heavily. "Why is a teenage boy so in need of money that he must go rob a jewelry store? Tell me, do you work somewhere?"

"No, the money that I bring home is enough." Mrs Harris answers for her son once more, and you look at him in thought.

"Is it drugs, Paxton? You need more money for a dose, don't you?" He stares back at you, visibly irritated. "Is it cocaine? Or marijuana? Do you smoke with your criminal friends after school? Where'd you get the guns from?"

"Excuse me, but these are false accusations, Miss y/l/n, I-"

You hold your hand up, and continue to look right at the boy. "It is drugs. Bloodshot eyes, runny nose. You keep buying those eye drops in hopes of concealing it, but they don't work, do they?"

"Miss-"

"How do you know?" He finally asks after failing the staring contest.

"I had my fair share of experience with drug addicts. Now, if we cleared this one up, where'd you get the guns and who were your accomplices?"

"I can't tell you. I made a promise." He protests in vain.

"Addict's promise is nothing more than an empty talk. Did they threaten you?" You're met with silence and uneasiness from Mrs Harris. "Paxton, we're bound by an attorney-client privilege. Whatever you say, stays in this room. I can only advise what's best for you in court."

"No."

"I think you're lying to me."

"Yes, okay? I had to keep my mouth shut so they would give me my share." You rub your forehead in thought, when Paxton speaks up again, "we found some guns in an abandoned place, it was like a warehouse or something. We only came there to threaten the owner, but then Joey fired a shot and... We didn't want to hurt anyone."

"Did you hurt someone?"

"No, the bullet went through the display glass, but we got scared and ran away." Paxton was still restricted, but after you assured that it stays between you three, he opened up. 

"Did anyone see you?"

"No, we wore masks."

"Can you tell other names? Besides Joey?"

He hesitates, cracking his fingers, afraid to meet his mother's eyes. 

***  

"He's agreed to help us, in exchange for a full immunity." 

"Did he give any names?" Mahoney asks, flipping over the papers.

"All of them." You answer, looking over at Mrs Harris and her son, still in your office. Matt and the rest of the office returned from their lunch break, and Matt was awkwardly hanging around Karen's desk, listening to you and Mahoney talking on the phone from time to time. Karen was pushing him to get a grip and finally start taking money from the clients, rather than doing everything for free; yet he kept pushing back with the same old arguments. 

"Well, I need you to come to the station, so we could take the statement, only then I can guarantee a full immunity."

"Alright, we'll see you soon, Sergeant."

*** 

You enter Josie's before seven, pushing through the thick crowd to the pool tables, old rock music is blaring through the speakers on full volume. Some guy almost spills his drink and starts apologizing profusely, so you quicken your step until you finally see familiar faces of Nelson and Murdock. "Apologies for the delay, Mahoney held us up." You sigh, stopping in front of the pool table to watch how Foggy misses a perfect shot.

"He likes to do that a lot." Foggy comments, trying to cover up his incredible failure.

"What happened? You were gone the whole afternoon." Matt fixes his glasses, directing his movements elsewhere, although he wanted to at least put a comforting hand on your shoulder... But not in public. 

"Uh... Whiskey neat?" You ask him, snatching his drink without waiting for an answer, and when the alcohol burns your throat, finally reply, "so basically, the warehouse where the kids found guns belong to the irish, yes, yet another gang in Hell's Kitchen. And the police are on the lookout for them, but it seems that they went into hiding." You put an empty glass on the table next to you, and touch Matt's shoulder, "Next one's on me."

"Wait, so what happened to the kids?" Karen asks, sipping her own drink, which you notice to be the same brand of  beer that Matt keeps buying for himself.

"We all talked, but of course, their parents weren't happy with the charges, so none of them confessed, but Paxton's on tape, and he still has the full immunity on the table." 

"And the store owner?"

"He didn't recognize any of them, but he did recognize the stolen jewelry that Paxton brought with him. At least they were smart enough to wear masks, but if Mahoney pulls out a search warrant, it's over for them." You sigh, plopping on the chair nearby. "I'm dog tired and I can't believe I've walked all the way from the station here."

"Hey, it's time to relax now, we've got all gang here!" Foggy puts his hands on your shoulders and shakes, a bit too strong for your liking.

"Nelson and Murdock are finally back!" Karen lifts her bottle and cheers when Matt's shot goes right into the hole. 

"That's a pretty damn good shot there, Murdock." You comment, and Matt's cheeks slightly blush. You quickly check him out, relaxed and laid back, his jacket ditched somewhere on the chair, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his strong arms exposed. If you could, you'd take him right here in the filthy bathroom of Josie's bar; but you can only bite your lip and wait for Josie to bring you a drink.

Matt laughs, "I only got lucky this time."

"He's been riding on that luck the whole evening, don't trust his words." Foggy comments and goes around the table to find the best position for himself again.

***  The evening goes by quickly, you've already lost the count on how many drinks you have consumed in those couple of hours, the bar is nowhere near empty, on the contrary, it only became fuller. Foggy has won two out of six rounds against Matt and has been glued to his beer ever since, apart from an occasional bathroom break, and now it was Karen v Matt in the 'grand pool battle', as Foggy called it. 

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your purse, confused. 1 new message. You can't help but look around the bar, before opening the message from an unknown number. Maybe Todd has come back to haunt you again?

U/N: hey, just wanted to check in, how are you?

You: sorry, who's this?

You see three dots appear and disappear multiple times, and at last, the person texts back, you quickly sober up.

U/N: It's Poindexter.

U/N: don't mean to appear like a stalker, but got your number from the case documents.

You: Oh

Dex clenches his jaw tightly, and Ray turns to look at him, clutching his phone. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dex answers, briefly looking around where they have parked their car. Dex and Ray were on a lookout mission tonight, and after a long afternoon of contemplating, he finally gathered enough courage to text you. And your response wasn't as warm as he expected it to be.

After two long minutes, which felt like an hour to Dex, you finally started typing something. Ray side-eyed his partner with rising interest, pretty much because he has never seen him staring at his phone like that. Dex's small smirk to your message added more suspicion to the already boiling pot.

You: does this count as a part of your job, agent? 

Dex: not when I'm off duty.

You: are you off duty now?

Dex: well, I guess you caught me this time.

Matt listens to the sudden liveliness of your phone, slightly confused, but then Karen appears next to him and offers to teach how to play pool 'correctly', despite the obvious fact that he's been playing with Foggy the whole evening. You watch them from behind a half empty glass of whiskey, catching the way drunken Karen allowed herself to boldly touch Matt. You shouldn't be mad or jealous... Theoretically... Because you two weren't public or official. But theory aside, you were biting your cheek to refrain from a sarcastic remark. Matt couldn't help himself but smile awkwardly when he felt Karen's fingers sliding along his arm; her closeness was too much for his liking, especially in front of you; but your attention was somewhere else already.

You: didn't think feds worked overtime.  You replied cheekily, but then added, I'm ok. Thanks for asking, Dex.

Dex's response was quick, you don't know a lot about us then. I guess everything that happened was very hard for you. 

You get a fresh glass of whiskey, thinking over his message. It was strange, that when your life has finally settled, weeks after Teneke's murder, Dex decided to text you. Although there was some truth in his words, it was hard, the nightmares weren't the fun part of the whole thing too... But it was all in the past now; with Matt by your side, you allowed yourself to relax and not think of all the bad things that happened in your life since your return to Hell's Kitchen.

You: it was, yeah. If we're already on this subject, how are you?

Dex: I'm good, thanks.

And he was, especially when you texted back. His smile, even though a brief one, didn't go unnoticed by Ray. Dex wanted to text something else, keep the conversation going, but his mind was blank, especially when it came to making small talk; although he was now guarded by his phone and safe from any first-hand awkwardness, Dex still didn't know how to deal with the sudden stress. But his self-pitying session got interrupted by your message, so, what are you up to right now? So, you did care after all. Enough to not let this conversation die.

Dex: on a lookout for a bad guy, pretty boring. And you? Hopefully something more exciting.

You: in a bar, drinking my salary away with the bosses. How bad that bad guy is?

Dex: pretty bad in my opinion. Don't drink too much, you won't feel well tomorrow  :)

You lock your phone and notice that Foggy and Karen were already dressed up.

"Look who's off her phone already, you missed all the fun." Foggy says, buttoning his coat up. 

"You're leaving already?" 

"Yeah, Karen's afraid to go home alone and I-"

"I am not!" Karen giggles, steadying herself against the pool table. Matt laughs, leaning on the pool cue and sips his beer. 

"Huh, maybe I should head home as well... Just want a cigarette so bad, haven't had one the whole day." You sigh, and say your goodbyes to Foggy and Karen. The bar is still full, Josie's been running non-stop, and you think to yourself if it's always like this on a Monday night.

"That leaves just two us now, huh?" Matt says, striking the white ball into the red one. 

"Isn't this just so romantic?" You laugh, walking closer to Matt, and whispering in his ear, "those shouting ones really know how to create an atmosphere...Full of sweaty bodies and that stink of cheap beer." 

"I'd say this is perfect." He laughs, handing you the pool cue. 

"No, I don't play." 

"Come on, let me teach you." 

"Really? And how will you do that?" 

"With your help, of course." Matt laughs into your ear, and puts his hands around your shoulders, positioning the cue in your hands. "Now, turn where the white one is." You do that, noticing that there's a green ball right behind the white one. "And now, you strike that ball into another one, like that." He pushes the cue with quick, powerful movement, still holding your hand. 

"It went in!" 

"See, it's easy." He smiles, forgetting that he was gonna ask you who was texting you this late in the evening. You celebrate for a moment, but then grab Matt's hand, asking to go home. And who was Matt to refuse your ideas, when he knew how tired you were?

As you were waiting for a taxi outside, Matt was standing so close to you that you smelled his perfume mixed with all the smells of the bar even through your burning cigarette. 

"Listen, I wanna ask you something, y/n." He begins, shuffling his feet on the sidewalk. "Do you... Would you like to go on a date tomorrow evening?" 

"A date?" You ask again, averting your attention from the passing cars. "Matt, we've been together for like a month."

"I know, and I haven't asked you on a date once, that's on me." His warm hands found yours and squeezed affectionately, "let's go to some nice place, maybe not too expensive," you laugh and it's like music to his ears, "I would choose it myself, but unfortunately," Matt gestures to his glasses, "I'll put on my best suit, and you could put on that silk dress I helped you choose... What do you say?" 

You wanted to kiss him right now and never let him out of your arms, "I have one place in mind... I just hope that it will be as romantic as Josie's." 

He laughs, throwing his head back, "so, that's a yes?"

"Affirmate, Mr Murdock." You kiss him on the cheek, leaving the biggest smile on his face. 

*** 

"Hey, I told you I'm sorry, I tried to reason with my mother to not go to that lawyer!" Paxton's voice rings in the dark alley, four dark figures hovering above him menacingly.

"So you had to tell our names to save your own ass, didn't you?" Joey asks, kicking Paxton's thigh with enough force to earn a loud cry. 

"I was busted either way. She cracked me about the drugs, I can't be in jail for having drugs in my house, please!"

"You're just a pussy, Paxton. I always knew you were the weakest link." Toby says, pulling the hood off his head. "We could've sold that gold for good money and taken more guns from the warehouse, but it's all busted now. And whose fault is that?"

"Guys, please," Paxton shields his head from another kick, "I beg you, stop, I'll take everything back, I promise-"

"I don't take promises from a snitch. We should just kill you right now." Joey says, picking up a brick from the ground, and gets hit by one of Daredevil's billy clubs, which bounces off to knock out Toby. The rest of the gang look around in panic, until they notice a dark figure on one of the rooftops, and another billy club flies through the air and knocks them out as well. 

"Please, please, don't kill me, Daredevil!" Paxton lies back down, keeping his hands in the air. 

The devil of Hell's Kitchen lands on the ground switfly with little effort and picks up his billy clubs, agonizingly slowly stalking towards Paxton. "Call the police, call your lawyer first thing in the morning, leave no details, you understand? Drop the shady business or I won't be so nice the next time we meet." Matt rasps out, in case Paxton has heard him speaking in the office.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it, please don't hurt me anyone." Paxton cries out, holding his bruised side. 

"Make the call right now, Paxton, I won't ask again."

The boy pulls out his phone, screen almost shattered from the kicks and dials the emergency number, fearfully looking at his knocked out friends and Daredevil himself, standing and looking right at him.

Another typical night in Hell's Kitchen.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 30

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 827

Masterlist

It's not hard to find out where your mother is, (Y/n).

You have her boyfriend’s address in your phone's calendar with the note “niet vergeten kerstkaart te sturen”, which I figure out means don’t forget to send a Christmas card. (I know you never did that, by the way. And good on you.)

The hard part is getting to her. At first, I think I'll go when you're sleeping. But there are no busses out of town after nine pm, and there is absolutely no way for me to get back all the way from Utrecht before you get up, which means I have to make an excuse and go during the day. This is a problem, though, because The Netherlands has two Christmas days, which means we first have to spend another two miserable afternoons and evenings with your grandparents.

Why does this country insist on so many days of forced family time? You guys have something like Christmas on the fifth of December, already. You don't need two days of Christmas on top of Christmas eve, (Y/n). You guys don't even exchange gifts! You just sit around all day and eat and argue, and argue even more the more time you're forced to spend together.

Turns out, Dutch people don't particularly like Christmas.

You've dubbed the twenty-seventh our Christmas morning. We already exchanged gifts on Thanksgiving, but it's still a nice thought. However, it means I can't get away until noon, and even then, you're not very happy about it.

“But where are you going?” you ask, frowning, as I put on my jacket.

“I told you: I can't be in The Netherlands and not visit Amsterdam,” I answer. “I know you said it sucks there, but it kind of feels like a crime.”

“Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go? I could've gone with you,” you complain.

Your aunt asked you to meet her for a late lunch in an hour - you told me she most likely wants to complain about your grandmother - which is perfect. It means you won't insist on coming with me.

“We can do things separately, can't we?” I say.

I don't think I said it in any sort of negative tone, but my words still seem to hurt you. Your expression changes and you press your lips into a thin line.

I want to take what I said back right away, but I can't, because for your own sake I really need to go.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, crossing your arms. “Well, don't go and get high, or something.”

“Of course not,” I say, and kiss your forehead. “I would never.”

“I like the cap, by the way,” you tell me. “Very sporty.”

I smile.

It's hard to extract myself from you, but eventually I leave. Then I get on a bus. Then a train. Then, another train. It's nearly a four hour journey and without you to look at, I hate every second.

It doesn't help that it's so busy today. I'm sitting in a compartment that has a large ‘silence’ sticker on the window, but nobody is being silent. I can't say anything about it, of course, because if I call attention to myself, someone might remember me later.

The ways I suffer for you know no end.

It's a little after four pm when I arrive at Steef's house. I'll have to be quick if I want to be able to make it back. Trains go until pretty late, though, and you think I'm in Amsterdam. If I don't make it back in time for the last bus, maybe you can call me a cab.

I miss New York.

My plan is to wait for your mom to come outside. I don't know if she will, but I get lucky: she does.

I recognize her from a photo you showed me, but she is not like she was when you were a kid. That woman was happy, smiling, slightly chubby with long hair and sparkling eyes.

This woman is thin, thinner than you to a very unhealthy degree. Her hair has been very inexpertly chopped into a pixie cut.

In the states, we would probably refer to her as white trash. She looks like a drug addict. You'll be better off without her.

She's carrying a trash bag, opening the grey bin in the front yard to throw it away. I have to be quick.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?”

“Hmm?”

She turns to me. There is no recognition, even though I know she's seen photos of me. Her eyes are glassy and she doesn't expect me here. Why would she?

“Is Steef home?” I ask.

“No, he is at work.”

She doesn't expect the blow, which means she doesn't have time to scream. And there is nobody outside, either. It's cold, and this is a bad neighborhood. I'm lucky.

“Good,” I say.

And then I drag your mother into the house.

[theboardwalkbody]

Succession 01x05 and 01x06 Roman-Thoughts:

So despite the dominant Roman scene we got at the end of 01x04 we still get a little nugget of the Roman who's not Into It with Grace's "every 6 months" comment.

Absolutely seeing how any time you say anything to Roman that is Absolutely the Truth about himself he doesn't want to hear it and just tells that person to fuck off and walks away. Because God Forbid Roman actually deals with his shit like a mature adult.

---2.5 - I know that coming up(?) is a moment between Roman and Shiv about therapy (because I think everyone goes at one point?) but I really find it hard to believe that Roman and Therapy go well together given his propensity for not talking about anything serious related to his behaviors, especially if those behaviors are "negative" or perceived that way.

Got a little peek into Roman's brain with the "I'm not smart but I'm not dumb" and "I don't have the attention span" and "this is the most important time of my life and I'm thinking about six other things right now" statement. Do we have some ADHD-Roman?

I would have LOVED to see Roman's face in response to Logan hitting Iverson. Obviously I have been spoiled and know that Logan physically abused Roman but from the gif-sets I've seen Roman plays this off as Not A Big Deal and makes excuses for it. So I really would have loved to see how Roman reacted to seeing it happen to his nephew.

Roman absolutely flew into detachment when Grace left. He broke up with her, and they gave each other the cold shoulder the rest of the night (especially Grace's bite at him while saying Thanks), but when she was actually leaving Roman just straight up ignored her. He was physically present in the room but mentally and emotionally he was Not.

I see you Roman-Barely-Eats-Roy. With the picking at his stomach in the earlier episode, declining food when au devours were brought around passing over his plate completely at first during Thanksgiving dinner and only taking food after Grace. Taking small bites. When having dinner with Lawrence he was shown to put a small bite of food in his mouth like, once. During the meeting at the diner about the Vote of Confidence he ordered only a black coffee (which if I remember correctly this is actually the SECOND time on screen he was ordering food / offered food and only ordered/accepted a black coffee).

I know Kieran said that he saw Roman as having some sort of disordered eating but I wasn't sure how much he actually got to work it into the on-screen portrayal or how soon this occurred. So I'm kinda seeing, at the moment, that clearly he worked it in.

ALSO: to some psych diagnosis - I've seen Roman later on makes a "joke" about having borderline personality disorder and I am looking for evidence of it (because maybe I am biased with my own diagnosis) but having seen that I keep looking at him through that lens and I have been perceiving that his dumping Grace was a reaction to seeing her watching the movie. I see it as him feeling betrayed, maybe also embarrassed, and that caused him to split and therefore any love/feelings he had for her turned into hurt and he pushed her away by breaking things off with her. And his ignoring her leaving was absolutely him shutting down to block out any regret he may have been feeling or any further hurt.

And one more thing: As much as Roman talked about voting Logan out I knew the SECOND Logan decided to stay in the room during the vote he was going to buckle. I could also see the nervousness in him when Kendall wasn't there to help act as a buffer/support for him. Roman was absolutely squirming that whole time and when it came to be his time to vote, even though he did make a nervous attempt at sticking with his original vote, when Logan snapped at him he tucked tail. The shame and fear was written all over his face. When his turn came that was no longer an adult sitting in that seat but a child.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

How would the first meeting between Drakken and Shego’s brothers would go?

Good question! First technical meeting was during the episode 'Go team Go' but that was barely anything. Let me try and write down how I think a first meeting would go:

So I suppose after the episode, the next best meeting could be during a family orientated holiday (Thanksgiving or Christmas). It would be very likely that Hego, after finding out where Drakken's Lair is located, would send an invitation for them to visit during the holiday; no hero activities, no villain activities just family stuff + Drakken. Drakken is a sucker for family orientated outings (See the yearly evil family picnic that he organises for his henchmen and the time he celebrated Christmas with first only Ron and then with the Possibles and Shego).

If Drakken gets his hands on the invitation first: Drakken might keep it a secret from Shego and makes her come along with him to GoCity under the guise of "We're going there for evil shopping" or anything and 'coincidentally' bumping into Hego.

If Shego gets get hands on the invitation: Shego will probably burn it and toss it away. However, she won't wait for it to burn out (like the photo strip of her and Kim in 'Stop team Go'). So Drakken might see it and stomp it out, see the address and could potentially read that it's an invite and then do the same as the previous part, go to Go-city.

Alternative: Drakken invites team Go to the lair for a family reunion.

Drakken and Hego would formally introduce themselves to each other and Shego would try and go away but gets stopped by the Wegos who surround her with hugs. Eventually she just gives up and everyone goes to GoTower or Lair.

Drakken + the Go brothers impressions:

Wegos & Drakken: The twins would probably be neutral over Drakken. He looks a tad boring to them compared to the Go villains. They are mischievous though and first pretend to be 1 sibling, making Drakken confused because he thought they were twins, then triplets??? Quintuplets?!? "Oh, just twins with multiplication powers, haha of course--." Drakken would also think they're around the age of Kim's brothers so he got them a pranksters' science kit as present. "How to build an atomic whoopy cushion? Neat!". Drakken is okay in their book.

Mego & Drakken: A looooooooooong silence between them. Mego and Drakken would probably start with having the least common interests, but something they both like to talk about is themselves. One would start talking about some anecdotes connecting to their line of work, then in turns they interrupt each other to tell another 'funny story that I just remembered cause of this story'. The conversation then turns into talking about Shego. Both of them then bond over getting onto Shego's nerves.. until Shego interrupts them "Hahaha, oh that's funny-- hey don't stop talking about me now, you guys seemed to have so much fun!" "Yes, uh, well, we're just--" "Boy! All that socialising sure dried up my throat. I'll get myself a water, would you like some too, Doctor Drakken?" "Why, yes Mego, here let me help you!!" And both of them hurry away into the kitchen before Shego can say anything. They also compliment each other's hairdo but secretly think it looks lame and theirs looks better.

Hego & Drakken: I feel like this is a double edged sword. They both like the Oh Boyz and probably would sing Karaoke during the party (making Shego and Mego cringe in their seats). They could talk about the fastfood industry/horeca in general and maybe Hego likes Snowman Hank as well.

Now the negative aspect. I think at one point during the party, Drakken might ask Hego something along the lines of "So, you are okay with your sister being evil? Running from the law? A super Villain's sidekick?" and Hego laughs it off, replying "Oh, yeah well, I'm not that worried. You see, if she's paired up with the likes of you, it'll be ok." At first Drakken might be flattered but then, "What do you mean, "paired up with the likes of me"?"

Hego explains that he knows that Drakken is no 'real villain'. After first seeing him, he looked up everything about Drakken in a villain database and concluded that Drakken is no real threat, at least not like the true villains that terrorise GoCity (according to him). Shego probably is the safest with Drakken cause she'll never be in real danger because of his shenanigans. Drakken will get fired up because this definetely hurts his ego. He will start getting real angry and tries picking a fight with Hego, telling him he's probably the reason that Shego left for villainy, because he's such a goodie two shoes that controls everyone like they're tools to get him in the best light and adoration of the city. Hego and Drakken will eventually get closer to actual fighting but Shego steps in, scolding both of them hard. "This is exactly why I didn't want to come." Shego grabs Drakken by his collar and heads out.

It's not the most perfect first meeting, but it's a first meeting nonetheless. I hope you liked my take on it!

[iknow-thisisallinmyhead]

Ahhhhhh! It's heeeeerrrrreeeeeee!!

The Holiday Lie | December 19th

Agreeing to be a fake date for your best friend is all fun and games until you have to lie to his sister’s face. - 12k - read on ao3

After an hour-long drive out of Harrisburg, the rental pulls to a stop in front of a big, yellow Colonial house. Snow covers the roof, adding to the illusion that a reindeer drawn sleigh has landed there. Multicolored string lights wrap around the large picture windows, off for the day, and a herd of white light reindeer sprawl across the lawn, snouts tucked down in the snow or raised high to the sky.

The house sits in the middle of the block, looking festively picturesque among similarly decorated homes, with a warm and welcoming glow inviting us in. A dalmatian shaped mailbox denotes it to be 118 Crow’s Nest Point, a fact that always cracks me up. I’ve been friends with Buck long enough to have heard about the Crow Incident of 2016- the story changes almost every time it's told but one thing always remains the same: a never ending war between Chimney and all crows he comes across. 

Buck clears his throat, bringing my attention back inside the car. He’s wearing a dopey grin while staring up at his sister’s house, soft and serene in the midmorning light. “Home, sweet home,” he murmurs happily. 

Chris’s dry reply floats up from the back seat. “I thought you never lived here.” 

“True, I have not! But it's always been more of a home than the house I actually grew up in.” With a shrug Buck opens his door, nearly falling out of the cab in his haste. A frigid gust of air blows in, sending a shiver down my collar. Before following my best friend into the icy Pennsylvania morning, I shore up my mental walls in an attempt to prepare for the coming week.

I think back to Thanksgiving night; the blond sitting dejectedly at my kitchen table, wringing his hands on the surface, an untouched slice of pie pushed off to the side. He looked so sad and frustrated; another failed relationship, another missed opportunity for happiness, another piece of evidence that he would be alone forever. He was a storm cloud, dark and gloomy and ready to crack open and unleash a hurricane of negative emotions aimed at himself. I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let him turn inwards and close off to start the assault. And I couldn’t say no. 

I never can when it comes to him.

Leaning back against the seat, I run a hand over my eyes. Seven days, I just have to get through the next seven days. Chris opens his door. I can hear the grin in his voice as he calls, “Coming, Dad?” 

“Coming,” I mutter, unbuckling and getting out.

Buck’s already halfway up the walk, practically galloping with no regard to the ice and slush. His hand is raised, waving at the figures standing in front of a bright blue door. Jee-Yun leaps off of the porch, throwing herself into Uncle Buck’s arms. He catches her, scooping his niece up and twirling; little girl a blur of pink tulle and rainbow sparkles, candy cane striped tights and purple snow boots kicking out as Buck spins around and around.

Maddie pulls her eyes off of the excited and endearing reunion and smiles at me in greeting, reaching out to wrap me in a hug. It takes a beat too long for me to unstiffen and reciprocate the embrace but she holds me tight, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. “I’m so happy you and Chris made it this year!” she says pulling back. Her fingers slide to my shoulder where she squeezes once before letting me go. “I’ve been waiting for years for Buck to tell me you two finally got it together and got together! You’ve always made him so happy, Eddie, and I can never thank you enough for that.” 

The words are a sharp lance of guilt to my gut. Her eyes are so sincere as she looks up that I can’t maintain eye contact, dropping my gaze to my boots and the slick step below me. Agreeing to be a fake date for your best friend is all fun and games until you have to lie to his sister’s face. 

“Yeah.” I chuckle awkwardly and step out of her arms, looking over my shoulder at Buck. He’s flat on his back in the snow, lifting his niece up the while making engine noises. Jee’s cackling wildly, arms spread out like a plane. I can’t fight the smile that lifts my lips up at the sight. Turning back to Maddie, I shrug. “He makes me happy, too,” I admit, glad I don’t have to hide this stupid grin that only Buck can pull out of me. It’s all part of the lie I agreed to tell, right? Even if it's not a forced reaction. 

Maybe this week won’t be so bad. For once, I won’t have to pretend that I’m not in love with my best friend. I just have to pretend that he loves me too. And I’ve thought about what it would be like enough, spent far too many hours daydreaming about, that I can probably do it. I think. Maybe. Can I do it without breaking my heart in the process? That’s the real question. Only time will tell.

“Christopher! Look at you!” Maddie squeals.

“Hi, Maddie,” Chris says with a grin. He’s on the step below me, lifting one poison green crutch up as he waves.

“Come here!” Chris happily wraps his arms around her. He’s always been a big hugger, just like his mom and has no problem eagerly reciprocating her embrace. “You’ve gotten so tall!” 

The teen chuckles. “Are you sure you just aren’t getting shorter?” 

Maddie reels back, mouth hanging open in feigned shock. 

“Rude,” she says, wagging a finger at him.

A peal of laughter announces Jee-Yun’s presence as she runs up onto the porch. “Me too, me too!” she calls, skipping around. She’s holding two very wet Hello Kitty mittens in her very pink hands instead of wearing them. “I got tall too! I grew seven inches!” She jumps up, catching a few inches of air before landing back down with a wobble. “I grew seven inches!”

“Close, Sweet Little,” laughs Maddie. “You grew three inches since your last doctor’s visit.” She holds up three fingers, demonstrating how many inches the girl grew. “Now, let’s get you inside so we can warm those poor little hands up.” She reaches for her daughter, but the girl jerks back, stamping a tiny foot on the porch. 

“No, Mama! I grew seven inches!”

Buck snorts, amused by the five year old’s antics. I’m caught off guard by how close he’s gotten without my notice and end up jump a little. He quickly reaches a hand out to steady me, fingers splaying across my lower back and sending a current of electricity up my spine. Even through the thick coat I’m wearing I swear I can feel how warm his hand is, swear I can feel that warmth as it bleeds into me. He turns up the wattage of his smile, a ray of light breaking the clouds on this overcast day. There’s a tight, warm feeling in my chest and I can’t help it. The stupid grin is back. 

“Careful, it’s just me. I’d hate for you to fall and break your neck.” 

“If I fell you’d save me.” I’m sure of it, Buck wouldn’t think twice. He’s built for saving people, he was just born that way. It’s what makes him such a good firefighter. Those bulky arms would be around me before either of us could process what’s happening, before I’d ever be in any danger. That's just who he is. I may or may not have entertained a daydream or two like it over the years since I’ve acknowledged my crush; Buck catching me in his arms, holding me close, eyes darting down to look at my lips… 

He raises an eyebrow at the comment, self-doubt automatically scrolling across his face. The smile falls from his lips, hiding the sun back behind dark clouds. “You would! You’d never let me leave Christopher without a father.” I say dramatically, trying to bring it back, needing it back. But the words aren’t quite true. If I died Chris would still have a-

“You two lovebirds gonna come in or what? I’m not paying to heat the outside, you know?” 

Startling, we rip our gazes away from each other. A blush burns across my face and I have to look away from Maddie too, away from the knowing, amused expression on her face. She’s standing on the threshold with her hands resting on the door jam, pointedly looking around the empty porch. When did Chris go inside? Surely Jee-Yun hadn’t gone quietly. I didn’t even notice as they left us alone. One smile from the taller man and I’m a goner, floating through space with a tether connecting me to Buck and Buck alone, like no one else exists. I sigh internally. 

I’m getting too old for this kind of shit. 

Grinning, Buck pushes past his sister, stepping over the threshold and into the house. So I do what I always do, what I’ve done since we first met; I follow. It’s warm inside, too warm, and I immediately pull off my coat. The Buckely siblings disappear down the hall, but Chimney pops up out of nowhere with a hand outstretched so I pass over the tan, weather proofed material.  He pulls open a closet already over stuffed with colorful winter garb and shoves it in, glancing sheepishly back at me as the coat crumples into a black hole. Sardonically, I wonder if it'll ever be seen again. He slams the door shut, leaning against it like it'll bounce open again if left to its own devices.

“Eddie,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Chimney.” I nod. Overhead, there’s a squeal of delight followed by pounding feet running down the hall. My guess is Jee-Yun has already dragged her uncle up to her room.

“So, how’d you manage to get roped into this?” The shorter man asks with a knowing look in his dark, beady eyes. 

Wait, what? My stomach swoops like it does when you miss a step going downstairs. I didn't even know that could happen when you're standing still. Chimney crosses his arms, waiting for an answer but I’m stunned speechless. He can’t already have figured out that we’re lying, can he? 

“You were better off keeping it a secret, you know.” Shaking his head, he clicks his tongue in disappointment and I can breathe again. “We’re not the kind of family that gives you privacy.” He steps closer. “There’s no privacy, Diaz, you will spill all of your secrets to us.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he adds. “All of them.”

Knowing it’s a lie, I say, “Oh, I don’t really have any secrets.” Buck’s smile flashes in the back of my mind, big, and full of teeth, and just for me but I wave it off. 

Before I’m able to push him away, Chimney’s got a hand fisted in the collar of my flannel. He drags me closer, pushing up onto his toes to level the distance and stare unblinking into my eyes. I’m starting to think he’s drunk, but it’s not even noon yet. He certainly smells like beer. 

“We all have secrets, Diaz.” 

“Howie, get off of him. I cannot believe you’re tipsy at eleven o’clock on a Monday morning.” Maddie comes to my rescue, pulling her partner off of me with an exasperated sigh. 

I adjust my blue and gray plaid shirt, smoothing out the collar. “Tipsy?”

“Mads, you know we have to pick the holiday special brew before we open today! I think I picked my favorite three: The Sam Adams one is okay but really I don’t think it’s what people want to buy for half off the week before Christmas. I really think we’re better off going with Highland Brewing or, oh, the Nutcracker Ale! That one was top notch!”

“Howie, honey, whatever you want! Just don’t break my new brother-in-law!” The title burns my ears as another lance of guilt pierces my belly. She pinches his cheek before shoving him unceremoniously through the doorway to the dining room. There's a cackle as Chimney very loudly trips and falls, moaning and groaning the whole way down. Sighing, Maddie shakes her head fondly. “I don’t know why I ever think pairing Howie and Hen together is a good idea.” She smiles at me and I feel guilty again. I’m not even doing anything right now and I feel guilty. “Jee kidnapped Uncle Buck and brought him upstairs, and Christopher and Albert are putting on Home Alone in the living room. The Lees should be here within the hour and we're planning on having lunch at the pub. Do you know when you have to check in at the Snowflake?” 

“Check in is at noon. Worst case scenario we can meet you at the pub after.”

“Okay, perfect, you can leave Chris here, if you want, and we’ll bring him over.” I nod at the suggestion. “Now, I’m going to tell you this because Howie is currently unreliable and Buck’s gonna be distracted for a while: I have to drop cupcakes off for the school’s Holiday Bake Sale. I will be gone for a half hour, forty-five minutes tops. And if you really want to prove that you deserve my brother you can get Howie to drink some coffee and sober up some before his parents get here.” She steps forward, coming up to press a kiss into my cheek. Before I can respond, she turns around and picks up a tupperware container filled with sparkly red and silver cupcakes, her keys, and a to-go tumbler of coffee. Then she’s gone; shouting a goodbye to her partner as the door swings shut behind her. 

All alone, my fingers reach up to press against a tingling cheek. This lie is going to be the death of me. 

With nothing better to do, I glance around the entryway. There's a mirror hanging across from me with festive silver tinsel wrapped around its edges. Surrounding the frame are dozens of snapshots taped to the wall: candid family photos, old pictures of Chimney and the Lees and of Maddie and Buck, and various group shots throughout the years. My heart beats uncomfortably when I find my own face staring back at me. 

The first- and oldest- photo is from the first Christmas with Buck. Chris is holding his new game console, a huge grin plastered across his face, while Buck and I are positioned on the couch behind him. It's a familiar picture; one that Tia Peppa took, one that hangs on my fridge at home, one that I have spent far too long staring at since I connected the dots on all these inconvenient feelings- how it ended up on a wall in Pennsylvania I don't know.

Next is one from the grand opening of Kevin’s- the pub Maddie and Chimney launched a few years ago. I don't even remember the moment I'm looking at; Buck and I are sitting at the shiny new bartop, grinning at each other over the beer bottles that we’re toasting. Chimney's in the background, arm curled like he's about to whip his bar rag at us. 

The last one is also from the pub opening, a group shot this time. Everyone important to the publicans are there: Hen and her wife, Karen, who own the nearest café, Bobby and Athena from the Christmas tree farm out on the edge of town, Anne and John Lee, the couple who raised Chimney to name a few I recognize. And then there's me and Buck. Taking in the way my face is forever immortalized on their wall, I can't help but sigh disparagingly.

We’re all grouped in front of the pub, a sash of cherry red satin taped across the doors. The owners are holding a pair of comically large scissors about to cut the ribbon and we’re all crowded around them to be in frame. Buck and I are standing at the back, mostly cut out of the shot given the size of the group. Everyone’s looking at the camera, or at the giant scissors- even Buck is, eyes trained up front towards his sister. But I'm staring right at him, seemingly unaware of anything going on around us. 

I remember how anxious I had been that day, surprised Maddie and Chimney wanted me in the photos, but worried Buck would think it was too much, too clingy, too awkward. Who was I to infiltrate his family unit? Our friendship was only a couple years old at the time and my feelings were just reaching a boiling point I couldn’t keep ignoring. I can see them all plain as day, frozen in time in the way only photos can capture. It's there in the way my whole body seems to curve towards him, the way my head tilts back so I can see him, the way my eyes are shining like they're filled with stars. 

It’s fucking embarrassing. I’m honestly amazed that no one’s ever picked up on it. 

“Diaz!” 

Jumping, I turn just as Hen steps out of the dining room, looking intimidating in a black tracksuit and her signature flashy glasses. She’s always seemed way too cool for a small town like Fire Station, but somehow manages to fit right in. Thankfully, she doesn’t try to hug me, just grins over the lip of a winter themed beer bottle. “Karen and I are so happy to hear you finally pulled your head out your ass and told Buckaroo how you feel! It was so obvious from the way you trailed after him like a lost puppy dog. Not that he was any better.” She pats my shoulder gently and then points up to the same photo I was just looking at. “So obvious.” Shaking her head she snorts, heading off down the hall and muttering about the bathroom. Listening to her walk away, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror across from me. Crimson blooms across my cheeks, splotchy and bright.

I sigh. Once upon a time, I bottled my emotions so much that no one could get a read on them. I’m pretty sure the only reason that changed is over six feet tall with curly blond hair and a set of frosty cerulean eyes that make me weak in the knees.

“Edmuuuundoooo!” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The faint call echoes down through the ceiling followed by another loud thump. Sighing, I set off in search of my best friend and his nightmare of a niece. Not that I'd ever call her that within earshot of Buck. He'd never forgive me.

Heading into the living room, I find Albert and Chris set up on the sectional, a bowl of popcorn between them as Catherine O'Hara drags Macauley Caulkin past his siblings and cousins to deposit him on the third floor. Albert looks up, helpfully pointing over to the stairs where the sounds of giggling and thumping, louder than before, are emanating from. 

True to Maddie’s nature, it looks like a holiday bomb exploded in the house, covering the room in festive shrapnel; ribbons and tinsel and tiny villagers galore. Garland and lights twirl through the hand railing and balusters leading to the second floor and wrap around the mantle. Red bows and embroidered stockings dangle above the fireplace, currently cold, and more than one Elf on the Shelf can be spotted perched throughout the room. There’s something off about it all but it doesn't come to me until I'm heading up the steps. There’s no Christmas tree. A week before the holiday and they’ve yet to put one up. Weird, considering the Yuletide vomit covering every surface. 

On the landing, I come face to face with a large, framed photo of a much younger set of Buckley siblings. Buck's no more than sixteen, tall and skinny and gangly with an arm slung proudly around his sister. Maddie’s beaming in a horribly orange graduation gown, clutching a diploma in one hand and a massive bouquet in the other. He looks so young, so innocent and sweet. I wish I'd known him back then, wish I’d been there when all he had in the world was a sister. I wonder how many things would be different and how many things would still be the same. Wonder if more time together would make it easier to give in, to confess, to show him how much I-

“Edmundo saaaaave me!” Buck's call pulls me from my head. A delighted peal of laughter follows it a second later, full of joy and wonder. Trailing after the racket, I find more family photos and pots of poinsettia, fairy lights and holiday cards, and a small fake Christmas tree with a second, smaller village underneath it. Why would there be a tree up here but not one downstairs? They have a fireplace and a five year old, the tree should be by Santa’s preferred entrance, shouldn’t it? 

There’s a door cracked open at the end of the hall, a riot of color within but still it's Buck's blond curls that catch my eye first. He’s face down on a cotton candy pink shag carpet while Jee-Yun balances on his back, pigtails bouncing. Her purple boots are long gone, ditched somewhere in the chaos and her red and white striped feet are walking up and down his spine. Toys are scattered all over the place; falling from the overflowing bins under the windows, spilling from underneath the bed, and dangling haphazardly from the net strung up in the corner of the ceiling. The closet doors are thrown wide and a rainbow is escaping in the form of dresses and tutus, tights and shoes, and even more toys.

It’s an absolute disaster and I hope it was like this before Buck came up. It’s been, like, five minutes, is it even possible to make this much mess in that short amount of time? Considering what I know of the little girl and her frenzied energy, yes, it is possible. 

Jee-Yun loses her balance, tiny feet sliding off Buck’s back until she’s got them on the carpet on either side of his ribs, hands pinwheeling until she’s sure she’s not gonna fall any further. She straightens up and lets out a demonic giggle. “Again, again, again,” she squeals, jumping back onto her uncle. He lets out a groan and I can tell from the way his body jerks that it doesn’t feel good to have forty pounds come crashing down on your spine like that. Jee wiggles around, earning a loud crack from underneath her feet. 

Buck finally sees me standing in the doorway. “Edmundo, save me!” He lets out a couple of fake coughs, reaching a hand towards me but pausing halfway through the gesture and letting it drop to the carpet. With a final cough, he goes boneless, melting into the carpet.  

Jee-Yun’s own brown eyes light up as she clocks me. “Uncle Eddie!” She starts clapping, jumping up and down, up and down on Buck’s back. The blond grimaces, air rushing out of his mouth with every bounce. 

“Okay, Jee-Yun.” I step forward, reaching out to pick her up and salvage my friend’s back. She must have other plans, though, as she bends her knees and catapults herself off Buck and into my arms. Giggling, she wraps her legs around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder, squeezing as tight as her five year old’s arms will allow. 

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Eddie.” 

“Merry Christmas, Jee,” I murmur, squeezing back. 

She gives me one minute of stillness, one minute as she hugs me and whispers she's happy I'm here, before wiggling her way to freedom. As always, my heart constricts at how easily she thinks of me as part of her family. From the moment she was born Maddie started calling me Uncle Eddie, despite my insistence it wasn't necessary. Any type of protest was met with a scoff or an eye roll until I gave in and accepted the title. 

“You’re Buck’s best friend right? You’re not going anywhere. She’s gotta call you something so Uncle Eddie it is.” Her tone brokered no argument. To this day, I will deny that it made me choke up more than I ever did with my sisters' kids.

When Jee-Yun’s back on her feet she darts out of the room and disappears down the hall, leaving a trail of sparkles and laughter as she goes. Two minutes with her and I’m already exhausted. I look down at Buck, still lying on the plush carpet. He rolled over at some point and is propping his head up with a hand as he gazes up at me. He looks dumbstruck, all wide eyes and parted lips. 

I arch an eyebrow. “What?” 

Is it my imagination or does Buck blush at the question? There’s a few splotchy raspberry patches cropping up along the apples of his cheeks. He quickly looks away, though, clearing his throat and getting to his feet. 

“Nothing, just uh-” he starts before clearing his throat again. “Just, uh, thanks for doing this, again. Getting teased every year about always being single is so depressing! I know this is awkward and I-I’m so sorry that I involved you in a lie like this, I just- I just-”

“Hey,” I interrupt, not wanting him to spiral already. We just got here. “I got your back, Buck. Always.” I clap a hand on his shoulder, heart somersaulting through something viscous as I gaze up into the expansive blue of his eyes. There’s only two inches difference, why does he always seem so much taller? “No matter how awkward and weird and inappropriate the request is, remember? We made a deal five years ago and I intend to keep it.” 

Buck reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck and looking away again. Why does he always look away? I never can, not really. His face is slowly getting more and more color; a pretty pink that matches his birthmark. No doubt caused by the unbearably high thermostat setting.

“Five years ago fake dating was not on the table.” 

“No, but honestly? Not the weirdest situation we’ve gotten ourselves into.” I grin, wishing he would meet my gaze. It feels like I spend half my life wishing Buck would look at me, this shouldn’t be any different. But there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that’s telling me this week is going to make everything about us, about our friendship, about Buck-and-Eddie different. 

Just not in the way I’ve spent years hoping for.

There’s a thump in the hall, distracting me from the anxiety crawling along my spine. Someone much bigger than Jee-Yun is making their way down to us. Buck’s eyes are still looking everywhere but me, hand running up and down the back of his neck and head. He looks guilty and sad and it feels like my fault, why does it feel like my fault? I let my lips fall, erasing the smile and stepping back. “Come on,” I say, holding out my hand. “Maybe we can snag some of Chimney’s winter ales before we go check in?” 

Finally, he looks back at me with a smile lifting up the corners of his mouth; small enough that I’m still worried but big enough that I can feel my heart do another somersault. He reaches out to grab my hand and I know it’s just for show, I know it’s just to keep up the ruse, I know that it means nothing, not to him, but it still sends a sharp electrical current up my arm.  

One of these days, Evan Buckley will be the death of me.

We bump into Albert in the hall, wearing what looks like a full cup of coffee down his front. “She’s absolutely insane,” he tells us, shaking his head as he steps into his room. 

There is a crash and a squeal from the floor below and Buck and I turn to each other, eyes wide. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to wrangle a kindergartener,” I whisper. 

He jostles our hands between us. “We got this.” 

[terresdebrume]

Fic writer interview

Merci pour le tag, @almost-a-class-act ! :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

372 :D

Most are fics, but I do have a little under 30 fic covers hanging around there 😊

What's your total AO3 word count?

988 968 words! My goal this year is to crack the million xD

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fun fact, this top has not changed in years and my more recent writing habits mean it's unlikely to ever change at this point xD

S.O.S. Ecrits Avec De L’Air (aka SEADLA) an unfinished Tony Stark/Loki fic in which everything starts because Loki stops Tony from commiting suicide.

 We Shall Have Peace, a fic in which Steve Rogers comes out of an 80+ years long captivity to discover Loki turned the earth into a utopia.

Dots: 2-4, 1-2-3, 1-3-6. A fic in which Tony Stark is a university student, and Loki is his blind teacher, and they fall in love.

Wooer Wooed. A fic in which Tony Stark tries to teach Loki how to woo someone and ends up surprised by the results.

Corny Lines For Thanksgiving A fic in which Tony Stark sees Loki iand Thor interact from his office window and mistakes them for a couple.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I like showing my appreciation and it feels more polite :D

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Say it three times and it will be done, in which Loki sends Tony Stark a very sad letter to tell him he's giving up on him and their not-relationship.

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Oh shit, I've written so many of these xD But I guess I'll go with a top 3:

Clark Kent, of Krypton because it's one of the ones where the protagonist's situation changes the most drastically.

Once more, with kissing because the protag ends in what would probably be my dream configuration for any kind of romantic relationship.

All on my own because it's probably one of the more hopeful endings I have.

Honorable mention to A summer evening in Philly. for being the most recent :P

Do you write crossovers?

Rarely. I did write a Battlestar Galactica x The Walking Dead crossover once for a friend, but that's about it. When I mix fandom, I gravitate more towards fusions :P

The fic is called Killing zombies (and other fun activities), if you're curious.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I think I got maybe...three angry comments on AO3 so far? One was pissed because the protag hated his stepmother, another was angry that I'd posted negative meta on a ship, and iirc the last one accused me of making a character stupid because they didn't understand a word as a little kid who was communicating in a language that wasn't his first language.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I try my hand at it on occasion x) It's probably not the greatest but so far no one told me it sucked so we'll see how it goes in the future xD

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

If I rememeber correctly there were projects of translation into Chinese and Russian for some of my fics, but I can't recall if they were completed or not xD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I toyed at the idea but it fizzled out, mostly because of me.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I honestly have never thought of it that way tbh xD

But my two oldest ships are Taichi/Yamato from Digimon Adventure and Hyoga/Shun from Saint Seiya. I've liked those since I was a kid. As in, I first discovered Hyoga/Shun when I was under 10 so.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I'm not going to answer that one, I don't want to jinx it xD

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at dialogue and worldbuilding.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle a little more with description, and also The Doing Of The Sex. Also I sometimes worry that I do the writing equivalent of same-facing my characters, but I guess it might also be because I have A Type.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

More often than not, saying "[x] said in German" or "[x] switched to Italian" is more than enough. It's clear, concise and avoids the two main risks of foreign dialogues: losing the readers who don't understand the target language and (if you're not fluent yourself) making a grammar mistake that takes readers who are more fluent than you out of the story. (Example: I've recently stumbled across a Band of Brothers fic where Liebgott used Sie to address Webster. Sie is a formal form of address, which I guarantee Lieb wouldn't use for his fellow soldiers, especially not Web, and so seeing it made be tick hard even if I didn't spontaneously understand the rest of the sentence.)

That being said! All rules are made to be broken, and I've written a fic that was intentionally in 3 different languages and another where a significant chunk of the dialogue is just em dashes with footnotes. In the first case, I used the script format and the language juxtaposition to mimick the sort of humor you'd get from a more fast-pace, visual medium like a movie or show (and also because I enjoyed the idea of a fic that was a bit of an in-joke with readers who mostly understood all three languages).

In the second case, I used the em-dashes (intersped with the few words the POV character understands) to force the reader into the protagonist' shoes, because the whole plot revolves around her distress and frustration about being unable to understand the language her family speak.

So, you know. Do what you want x)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

It was a very, very intense plagiaristic fic for Lord of the Rings but with Harry Potter style wizards. I don't think it was very good, but I rememeber having fun with it.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

For a long time, that fandom was Digimon Adventure but I've done it now so... non, for now, I think x)

What's your favorite fic you've written?

... I'm gonna cheat and link you to my AO3 porfolio for my top 11 :P

Tagging : @takingoffmyshoes, @kyttwrites, @nemainofthewater, @ghostinthelibrarywrites, @liesmyth and @talysalankil :)

[icedmetaltea]

Ngl I feel kinda somber now that it's Officially November...

(just sad thoughts)

All I have to look forward to is Thanksgiving and Christmas, both of which are family-themed holidays if that makes sense and it just makes me remember I'm now not in contact with my sibling. I may not even be staying with my parents by christmas, I may be back in my old apartment all alone or at a new one, still alone.

It wouldn't have mattered even if my sibling was still staying there, they were going to go on a vacation to Europe through christmas this year so I would've been alone anyways.

And like... due to climate change n all, September and October here were basically still summer. It's only now starting to feel consistently cold. I only have November, December, January and maybe February to look forward to before it starts warming up again and with it my anxiety, which I've only just now gotten under control.

It feels like I'm having shorter and shorter timeframes during the year (cool or cold months) where I'm not having horrific anxiety and ya know feel ok with the whole being alive thing. If I have to wait for just a small fraction of the year to not feel like dying, then like what's the point in living?? It becomes a quality of life problem at that point.

If you spend so much of your time just surviving, it's not really living, now is it?

It's just impending doom hanging over me, nothing new there. Now that my sibling is close to moving I have to worry about where I'll live by the end of the month, about financial aid and getting back into school (online if possible), getting a part time job for the first time, living alone for the first time, if I can get back on ebt... so many fucking things. Which ofc doesn't help with the suicidal thoughts. And ofc my mom had to bring up how all the war with palestine is seeming like The End Times according to the bible and my existential anxiety did not like that.

If god's real (the one my parents believe in anyway) I am of course going to hell. If god's real they're evil, or at least apathetic to the world's suffering, so I have to contend with both a god that hates me and a devil that loves making people suffer. I keep telling myself it's not real but ya know religious trauma and all that shit... Like I want to just turn off my emotions and remind myself if it is real Ok I guess I'll Die and Burn in Hell tm but at the same time it's like why not just make it quicker while I'm having and have so many guns around me.

Don't worry tho this year was the worst my depression or anxiety's ever been and I didn't attempt suicide even during the worst of panic attacks (tho it was tempting, and I couldn't exactly move enough to reach for anything dangerous) so at this point future me prolly won't. And hopefully I can continue speaking to the therapist I'm seeing even when I move.

I just fucking wish my parents would stop reminding me that half this country doesn't believe in climate change and thinks Israel is the victim in the war going on and all this other shit like can you BE ON MY SIDE FOR ONCE PLS. But no I'm just a stupid young person I guess, what do I know, what's my word compared to THE BIBLE or facebook or where ever she gets her info...

And ofc my therapist brought up a good point, aside from my parents and sister I genuinely have nobody irl I can turn to when things go sideways. I don't know if I ever will. When I say I have a resting murder face and an aura that makes people stay away from me I'm not joking and she rlly thinks it's all just a negative view of myself, but it's true. People are scared of me I think, always have been, it's just the vibe I give off.

So I will continue my life without friends and without people who will believe me when I talk about stuff like climate change and that is that. That's not to say I don't cherish online friendships, but I mean just like people I can depend on to really be there, to take me in if I genuinely can't take care of myself, bc it got like that for months and I couldn't so much as wash my own dishes or myself and I don't want to be alone when it happens again, and I know it fucking will.

But yea, I figured i should write this all down while it's fresh on my mind so I can reference it before my next appointment in two weeks...

[aftgficrec]

hi! do you know a fic that talks about robin's addition to the monsters and her relationship with them? tysm for your recs 🙏

From Nora’s extra content (here and here), Robin Cross joins the foxes as a freshman post canon on Andrew’s recommendation, becoming a goalie and part of Andrew’s tight-knit monsters. She is generally headcanoned to be particularly close with Neil and Andrew.

If you’re interested in a deep dive into Robin’s traumatic past of being kidnapped and held captive as a child, check out the true crime podcast au ‘Red Rabbits: Season 2’ here (now complete; accompanying art by @bloodydamnit here and here). -A

Also see

‘The Cartographer and the World’ here

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ here

‘Red-Breasted Fox’ here

‘when i'm falling (i'm at peace)’ here

‘Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian)’ here

‘Watchful Eyes’ and ‘transience’ here

‘don't wanna be lonely (just wanna be yours)’ here

‘the memory of burning’ here

‘cheers to the dead mothers club’ here

‘Runaway Train’ here

‘All I'm sayin' is if you don't love me no more, then lie’ here

‘Sliding Doors’ here

‘Worth the Trouble’ here

‘the name of the game’ here 

Teaching a caged bird to fly series by Charcoalll [Rated T/M, Collection with 5 complete works, Updated Dec 2021]

Part 1: Sunrise over Home [M, 7870 Words] Robin Cross is regretting ever signing with the Foxes more and more every day. But when a disastrous day at court leads to emotions culminating, she has a much needed talk with her coach. Turns out her recrutation wasn't as random as she thought, but why would Andrew Minyard off all people have an interest in her? No matter what, it all ends on that cursed roof at midnight.

tw: violence, tw: negative self talk, tw: bullying, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced csa

Part 2: Guilt, Fault and Blame [T, 9093 Words] Robin begins driving with the monsters from practice and suddenly everything changes.

tw: anxiety, tw: recreational drug use, tw: alcohol, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced murder of a child

Part 3: Never felt Safer [T, 3465 Words] Robin finally earned Andrew's attention. Now she's standing in front of the biggest changes her life has seen, but as it seems it's only for the better.

tw: violence

Part 4: Secret Privacy [M, 15790 Words] 5 times Robin saw the emotions others seemed blind to, and 1 time it was painfully obvious. Or Andrew and Neil through Robin's eyes.

tw: alcohol, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: homophobia

Part 5: You've found your people, haven't you? [G, 5335 Words] Robin takes Neil and Andrew home to her parent's for Thanksgiving

tw: anxiety

Afterthoughts by wesawbears [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2017] 

Chapter 37: Andrew and Wymack- Robin [488 Words]

Chapter 57: Robin- First Season [244 Words]

Soulmarks Bind Ravens And Foxes Alike series by sam_sational [Rated T/M, Collection with 2 complete works, Updated March 2023]

Part 1: Fate Is A Meddling Bitch [T, 39848 Words, Complete, 2023]  Neil doesn't swing, so he has no soulmark. Andrew doesn't touch people, so he doesn't have to worry about his aversion to the concept either. Unfortunately fate is a meddling bitch.

tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: heavily referenced self harm, tw: references to suicide, tw: flashbacks, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity

Part 2: Speak Up, Little Fox [M, 14071 Words, Complete, 2023] Five times Robin defended Andrew. One time Andrew spoke up.

tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity, tw: anxiety, tw: negative self talk

Show me the places where the others gave you scars by wangxian_234 [Rated T, 3369 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew has a past just as fucked up as Robin's, but he seems happy with Neil. Robin has questions.  or: a slightly ooc discussion of how sex is effected by trauma

tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity

Grains by Preludeno3 [Rated G, 993 Words, Complete, 2022]

Don’t say stupid things” Andrew growls back. His arm crawls with the contact and proximity, he’ll have move soon or he’ll have his own meltdown on his hands. “It gets better”

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

pick up all the pieces (and what’s left of my pride) by poika [Rated T, 4637 Words, Complete, 2020]

robin cross is interesting. and andrew doesn’t think that often. an exploration into andrew and robin's relationship, featuring andrew's scathing running commentary, emotional growth and making a friend along the way

tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

my one, my dear by Mercey [Rated T, 18478 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

Five years after graduating from Palmetto State University, Kevin's pro team decides to sign freshly-graduated Robin Cross. According to their friends it simply makes sense for the two ex-foxes to move in together, and while Kevin's intensity and Robin's unflappable nature pair well initially, what will happen when their darker things come to light?

tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity, tw: implied/referenced alcoholism, tw: implied/referenced murder

Neil Fights the Foxes by This_Witch_Writes [Rated T, 24142 Words, Complete, 2022]

Times that Neil got into fights and arguments on Andrew's behalf.

tw: homophobia, tw: transphobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: mania, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: car accident

Stay With Me by Lostintheuniverseslies [Rated E, 21072 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Part 3 of Healing, find part 1 here

They spent the first year after everything healing. Now they have to learn how to navigate being away from each other while Andrew is off playing in the pros and Neil is still at Palmetto finishing his fifth year. Things aren't easy. They never seem to be for them but they're fighters. And they always come out on top.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: homophobia, tw: negative body image

From Dungeons by JuiceGremlin [Rated E, 8561 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2022]

“I haven’t played Exy in years.”

“Brush up. Prove to me that you can be trusted. Miss Malcom will fill The Butcher’s position until a decision can be made about you.”

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: murder, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: gun violence, tw: implied/referenced animal abuse, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced captivity

didn’t know I was lonely (‘til I saw your face) by outofbookshelves [Rated M, 6671 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil hadn’t expected Andrew’s first year in the pros to be easy. But he’d be fine for the next few months, until he saw Andrew again on Thanksgiving. He turned out to be wrong, though – it wasn’t fine. 5 times Neil missed Andrew (and didn't realize it) and 1 time he didn't have to anymore.

tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced torture

Five Years to the Day by emmy (emmy7) [Rated T, 5045 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil's final game as a Fox with some big feelings, sappy thoughts, and a whole lot of hugging.

it's rotten work (not to me; not if it's you) by Awesomenessatrandom [Rated G, 8868 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 1 of when is a monster not a monster? (when you love it)

three times Neil couldn't take care of himself and one where Andrew lets himself get taken care of It begins the summer directly after King's Men and progresses chronologically.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence, tw: anxiety

thumbs up by tropicalblend [Rated G, 5268 Words, Complete, 2021]

Robin's on her period and her cramps are tearing apart her insides. She thinks she can push through practice and knock out in her dorm, but her body said, no lets black out during practice. Kevin, Andrew, and Neil try to help in little ways.

tw: menstruation

All We Ever Knew by OrdinaryVegan [Rated G, 1317 Words, Complete, 2017]

Robin comes to Neil for life advice, and he is surprisingly helpful.

A Quick Stop Before Breakfast by AnniGrace [Rated G, 1163 Words, Complete, 2017]

Blah blah blah Nora says they never get married but...

Some Tumblr Bits

…then you remember baby Robin Cross exists meta by @jostenjorts [Tumblr, 2022]

Neil and Robin on the cover of vogue; a spiel by @chronic-optimistt [Tumblr, 2022]

Robin is Andrew and Niel adopted daughter for me this is a fact hc and  Niel teaching Robin / Niel teaching any of the other foxes fandom fun post by @chacha462 [Tumblr, 2021]

Robin Cross headcanons by @yolkylemon [Tumblr, 2021]

Art

Her fist day at the locker room after her Eden’s Twilight trip comic by @crows-and-crumbs

my new Robin Cross obsession comic by @two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat

When Robin meets Renee and Allison, agents of chaos, and ur hand in marriage pls ma’am art by @yolkylemon

I’ve never smoked before and neil and robin are besties art by @poikas

Robin Cross art by @redskiesandsailboats

Robin brain rot hours and More Robin Cross hours art by rei_ko__ on instagram; also here, @rei-ka-ko

Lil Robin Cross moment art by @truthforatruth

✝️Robin Cross✝️ art by drewthesapphic on instagram, also here on twitter

meet Robin, Foxes’ goalkeeper by shtormlen on instagram

[simplyclary]

A Letter Filled With Love and Appreciation

As some of you might know, I express my thoughts, feelings and emotions through writing and words. In fact, my number one love language is words of affirmation. I just think that little notes, messages and letters filled with love and positivity goes a long way. This is my fan-art (in a way) and nothing but love flows every time I write something about the people and things that I appreciate and love.

This whole post is a letter that is dedicated to one of the best fandoms that I have ever joined this year. That is none other than the TZP Squad. This might be lengthy, might not be, but one thing's for sure, I'm gonna be a little bit sentimental considering what they've got me feeling these past few days.

I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but I think that giving thanks and being grateful knows no time and date. Since it's Thanksgiving season anyway, this will be my Thanksgiving gift to the lovely angels of the fandom who has been nothing but pleasant, accepting, warm and just some of the kindest folks that I have ever encountered online. Other than Taylor himself and some of my other favorite people, these folks are what keep me sticking around in the crazy and ever-evolving realm of social media.

So, without further ado, here's my letter of love and thanks to my dearest fandom, the TZP Squad.

To my dearest TZP Squad,

I would like to start the letter by telling you guys that the found family trope is one of my favorite tropes in books. Just the feeling of finding people outside your own bloodline that loves and appreciates you is a special feeling.

To me, a fandom is like a virtual family, where the members bond and share a mutual love for a specific person or a group of people. Nothing compares to the happiness and pride I feel being a part of one. I have been a part of several fandoms throughout the years, some are still active and some no longer. With every fandom I enter, I always make a promise to stay there for as long as I can unless my heart calls to another or I'm no longer interested in the content or there's too much controversy and negativity that I had to leave and just be a casual supporter instead of a die-hard fan.

The TZP Squad is a special one. What started with me casually replying and liking some posts on Twitter/X and IG turned into something special and meaningful. You guys are just some of the most pleasant, sweetest, kindest and most respectful bunch of people that I have ever encountered on social media. To be able to interact with you and share the mutual love for Taylor Zakhar Perez with you guys have been amazing so far.

The amount of creativity and artistry in this fandom is just overflowing. The edits and the artworks are just amazing and is deserving of so much appreciation. I have a few of my favorite accounts that I interact with on a daily basis but all of you honestly deserves lots of love and appreciation.

Since I live in the Philippines which is in Southeast Asia where it's night when it's day for some, if not most, of you guys, being able to wake up to your TZP-related updates, photos, videos, interview insights and edits is just some of my favorite things to wake up to. Like to be honest, I can't start my day without seeing and interacting a least a couple of posts from you guys.

That's quite the story time, I'll actually now get to the "Thanks-giving part" before I get carried away.

My dearest members of the TZP Squad, first and foremost, thank you for accepting a newbie like me into the fandom. This fandom is new on its own but I know some of you have known Taylor since his "The Kissing Booth" days. Thank you for the warmest and most pleasant welcome into the fandom. Do continue to be your pleasant and accepting souls so our little squad can continue to grow and diversify.

Secondly, thank you for letting me share my thoughts and feelings about Taylor without judgment. I do keep it wholesome and pretty tame most of the time by simply letting the all capital letters and emojis speak for me, but if you can see me behind the screen, I usually go pretty feral. Along with one of my best friends, you guys are the only ones who can fully understand my love for Taylor. Like I can go on and on about him for hours, I'm not kidding.

Thirdly, I thank you guys for simply being my little corner of paradise on the internet. I don't know what it is, but the TZP squad community is my favorite little corner in the messy space of social media. You guys just make my social media experience pleasant. There's no toxicity and negativity, everyone's like helping each other out. Like it's a little space of positivity and inclusivity and I love that so much.

Lastly, I really just want to thank you guys for the happiness and joy you bring to me. I consider Taylor as my sunshine, but you guys are the solar energy. The happiness that I feel increases when I see updates and content of him from you guys. I'm not on my phone 24/7 so I really appreciate it whenever you guys provide like little updates here and there about Taylor. Also, thank you for making me scream and go wild with the insane amount of photos (I don't really care if they're the same ones!) I see on my feed every day! I love you guys so much for that.

Before I end the letter, I would like to give a couple of shoutouts to some folks...

Firstly, shoutout to the folks who run @/InfoTZP and @/tzpsquads. You angels. You have been my go-to pages for TZP updates since the beginning of my TZP fan era. I appreciate the work and effort that you put into providing accurate updates and y'all are just some of the sweetest souls ever! The fandom and Taylor is lucky to have you guys! Extra shoutout to @/InfoTZP for that poster that you made me for my birthday a few days ago. I still cannot get over the cuteness and the sweetness of that gift. That was also the first time that I have ever received a gift from a fandom so I was really touched by it. Thank you for making my birthday extra special.

Secondly, to the folks over here on Tumblr, thank you for letting me express my Taylor-related thoughts on here. Thank you for liking them, reposting them and simply reading them. They can be lengthy (especially those fashion-related ones) but I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read them.

(He's not gonna read this, but who knows, he might!). Lastly, of course, to the person who is the reason this fandom even exists, Taylor Zakhar Perez. Taylor, my comforting sunshine, thank you for being you and for being the reason why I have a lovely fandom to belong in. Thank you for being an inspiration to many people and thank you for being a positive force that we can look up to. I am forever thankful to have discovered you and I promise to forever love and support you.

This is one of my many Taylor-related posts, but this is more about the fandom than Taylor himself. The fandom is just as special as Taylor and I'm excited to spend the future loving and supporting him with you guys. The TZP squad is one of the best fandoms with the sweetest people and I'm just having a pleasant ride with you guys. I'm here for the long run and I promise to stand by you Taylor and you guys until time tells me that it is already time to stop.

Happy Thanksgiving , everyone! Eat some turkey, eat some stuffing and cornbread. Celebrate and always be grateful for everything that you have!

All my love! 🧡

Clarissa

[braindamagedboykisser]

So I'm in therapy for my ADHD and depression/anxiety and my therapist has told me exactly what I see in a lot of posts here, like how happiness is a feeling, not a goal and it's never constant and that if we don't face our fears then we let them control us, but it's never helped me because I already know, but the issue comes when I try and do anything about it. I don't expect everyone to like me or even want everyone to like me, but when there is a near weekly social beatdown because I simply lack the ability to understand social cues, tone of voice or volume control, that leaves me fucked up, and when I try to work on that, it gets to be nearly impossible to ever make any progress, and it never gets better.

Every time someone tells me that I shouldn't expect to be happy all the time and that life just sucks and I need to get used to it it makes me want to put my head through the drywall because I already fucking know that, but clearly it sucks more for me, even if it looks like I'm fine or like I should be happy because the root issue is not material, but psychological, which can't be fixed with a simple "cheer up." The issue has never been me expecting to always be happy, but never being happy. What really makes it suck is that people only see me when I'm having a good time, so maybe in that moment I'm fine, once I'm at home I go into withdrawals from just being normal to the point of suicidal thoughts. I love being with people sometimes and Christmas, birthdays, Thanksgivings and other events like that are almost always a great time *until* the day is done and I lay down at night, because then the good time is over and there's nothing to distract me from the depression which hits hard and all at once right then. What should be me riding the high of having a good time with friends and family is instead me holding myself to my bed to keep myself from either killing myself or finding some substance to dull the pain.

I think what makes the depression so bad is the fact that I don't think I really have anything to be truly depressed about, I'm just depressed because I am. If I had something to actually be this miserable about, at least there's a reason, but I'm just sad about being sad. It just makes me feel like I'm faking it, which only creates a negative spiral of self doubt and self loathing.

So that was all a pretty big downer, and I'll admit that I'm not in a good place, but after all that I feel like I should end on a high note, so here's a few.

I turn 17 in January, which is a checkpoint of sorts for me. On one hand I'm stressed as hell about the fact that I'm almost 17 and about just how much I still have to grow mentally and emotionally in just the next few months because of how early I'm moving out, but on the other hand, holy shit, I'm amazing, I made it, and I get all these opportunities and options. It's a lot and there's a lot of strong and swinging emotions, but as long as I have the friends I have I think I'll make it.

I've also made new friends and cut out cancerous ones, and I've built what I think is a good support group and in general a good friend group.

I got myself out of my high school, which was definitely a toxic and unhealthy environment, and into a dual enrollment program where I do work from home and go to a college class in the evening where I can pretty much just sit in silence. Also since my hyperfixation has been in HVAC, I have been shining in that class.

I know that post went all over the place with little or no cohesion, and if you made it this far you're more dedicated than me, but I honestly needed to put all this out, and doing this has helped in the past.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 11.21.23

Last week, my goal was to finish up Chapter 4, which also represented a sort of turning point of my fanfic, the end of Act I, so to speak. The good news is: I did! I finished it on Friday and sent it to my beta, who regaled me with lovely comments, so not only is it done, but apparently, it has been pronounced good.

I was a little apprehensive about Chapter 5, because I had not really put any thought into it, but once I did, a chapter's worth of content fell into place pretty readily (on the outline, that is, I still need to write it). I realized that most of Chapter 6 is already written. The tricky part is getting from Chapter 7 to the end, which means I have to figure out an end and also how to get there. Sometimes a fanfic is a thing you just need to feel your way through, though, so for now, I'm focusing on the work that's in front of me, and I'll tackle that other problem when I get to it.

So! Part A wound up tipping the scales at 36,873 words. I decided to start a new document for Part B, because Google Docs start acting goofy if they get too big, and it seemed like a natural breaking point. I finished the first two scenes of Chapter 5, weighing in at 3,449. Total word count: 40,322, with a weekly progress of 5,101. That is very good, actually, considering a) that includes a pretty extensive re-write of one scene, which sometimes results in negative words, b) I also a full re-read/edit on what I had at the time and c) I did a bunch of outlining too. Like, even considering all of that, I think it's been my best writing week of 2023?? Anyway, it feels nice to be on my game again, the only time I actually feel human is when I am writing. This is what happens when my children actually go to school for five days in a row!! (lol this week was only 2 days long because of Thanksgiving, and it's already over)

In other news, I said I would do an art and I did. It was just a pumpkin pie tutorial, but I think it was good just to have the pen in my hand again, especially since it's been so long.

(ignore the captain's haori-ass pattern i made on the plate it wasn't on purpose it just happened)

[floofysmallbob]

some old vignettes from an assignment a few years back

Corner

Family is lonely. Family is never quiet. Family means loud children and annoyed adults and me in the corner, reading a book, lonely. But family is a bond. Family is a chain that I cannot break, tying me to it for eternity. Family means I have no choice. Family means I have no choice but to sit in that corner, lonely. I want my family to be chosen. But family has been so engraved into me as this group of people, the people I see at Thanksgiving and Christmas, the people who want me to come and pray, the people who want me to be nice, normal and not so negative. The people who want me to be like they think I am, who want me to come tell them everything, the people who want me to be like them, those people are who I have always called family. But I want family to be found. Family should be the people I choose. I want family to be people that will let me sit in that corner, but I will not be lonely. I want family to be the people who will come and sit with me in silence like a party filled with introverts, the people who can acknowledge I don’t want to be like those I have always called family. I want family to be the people that will make me want to leave that corner when I choose, not when they make me, not like the people who make me want to hide there, where the corner cries when I do. I want family to be loud in a way that is filled with warmth, not loud in the way that everyone is talking in layers over each other, with kids screaming and adults arguing. I want family to be who I choose. I want to choose to be part of that family, and not isolated, alone, only sitting in the corner, lonely. 

Better(Best)

I am not good enough. I need to be better. I’m missing school. I need to be better. I want to be alone. But I can’t. I need to be better. I don’t even have my homework done. Be better, I tell myself. I cannot let myself slip, cannot fail. I strive to thrive in this world where everyone is not good enough. This world that I am in. This broken world, I tell myself that I need to fix. The weight of the world is on my shoulders, I tell myself. Through my window, I can hear the wind screaming at me to be better. I am holding my standards of myself high, even when I am trembling beneath their weight like Atlas holding the sky. I need to be the best. I need to be brilliantly best. I hold myself higher than the world. But when I fail to reach those expectations, I become Icarus falling from above. Why is it so hard to be the best? Why is it that when I reach for the stars, I grab onto nothingness and fall into the abyss of failure and sadness. I chase success in a never ending cycle, never quite reaching it. I should not be sitting here, unsuccessful in all that I try. I need to be better. No, better will never be good enough. I need to be the best.

Black, White and Shades of Gray

What happened? Everything is black and white and shades of gray. Everything is dull and colorless and sad. Everyone has been drained of color, and the world has turned black and white and shades of gray. Sometimes I see little glimpses of color, little bits of hope. But then everything turns back to being black, or white, or shades of gray. The world is ending, and there’s nothing I can do. I am a spider trying to spin a broken web from my one dangling strand of hope. I’ve been taking medication to see color again. But I don’t think these ones are working. It just makes my world look like it’s glitching. I like to read about worlds full of color, full of hope. Those worlds always end up happy and warm and vibrant. I think mine will be depressing and cold and dull. Sometimes my world flashes black or white and I can’t think over the flamboyant fervid flashing and my hearing is glitching like a break in the matrix, too. I can never hear anything over the noise. Other times, my world slowly starts fading to black and my thoughts turn gray too. I usually think in color. But not when the world is crying tears of darkness. When the world is flashing, sometimes my thoughts turn too bright, with too much color. I don’t like those colors. Those colors aren’t warm. Those colors are all in my face. I like my personal space. There are other people like me, too. Some of them see in black and white, some of them have flashes. There are some people who perceive everything in color. Some of them see bright colors a lot more than I do. Lots of people have these things now. It’s becoming more common with people my age, too. I don’t know about everyone else, but to me, I just see in black and white and shades of gray.