#was fighting for my life in a grocery store bathroom today

[dmitribobitri]

it would be very sexy if my body's reaction to being Too Warm was not aggressive nausea

[mountainsandmayhem]

God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

[strawberrystepmom]

old flame, same glow

pairing: sex worker toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: old feelings spur you on a wild journey of paying for sex with your high school crush but you find out in the process that maybe those feelings aren't as long forgotten as you thought.

contents: nsfw - mdni. no curses au, reader and toji are similar in age (i imagine reader to be late 20s/early 30s and toji to be early/mid 30s), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots and lots of pining from reader, reader is very pathetic it's very sad but she's my most special meow meow.

notes: this is a repost of the sex worker toji au on my old blog - full and final, with pretty extensive edits to make it flow better. i was personally asked to repost and who am i to say no? be warned tho, for being a fic about sex work this is surprisingly sexless and for that i apologize but i wanted to focus more on the feelings rather than the smut.

thank you for your support and for reading and i hope you enjoy it!!!

dividers are thanks to @/saradika

“Is it because I’ll never be him?” 

The words your now ex-fiance spit at you during that fateful last fight echo in your mind as you splash cool water over your face, the strap of your purse sagging over your shoulder. A sigh escapes as the droplets run down your nose and lips. 

Him. Toji. The man became a constant issue in your relationship that never seemed to reach resolution the moment you admitted to a one-sided crush you had on him years and years ago, long before your fiance entered the picture. You hadn’t spoken to him since before his first marriage and only knew about his life through social media and occasionally running into each other at the grocery store but your ex took exception after a single cursory glance through Fushiguro’s photo sharing app feed, each picture one of him with his shirt either lifted at the bottom or so tight you can make out each and every divot of his defined core.

Exhaling out of your mouth, droplets go flying against the surface of the bathroom mirror and you fight the urge to scream or cry or maybe both looking at your soggy reflection. You’ve never felt more pathetic in your life and now the outside matches the inside.

The memory couldn’t have surfaced at a worse time and it forced you to excuse yourself from the polite man sitting across from you in a crowded restaurant, shifting through the too small gaps between tables and refusing to make eye contact with anyone else currently sitting in the restaurant as he watched you retreat. 

He was introduced to you by a coworker who spent most of the week wondering why you haven’t put yourself back out there after a year of single life, but you regret saying yes. Not because you don’t enjoy his company - he’s smart, quick witted, and handsome which are all things regularly you’d be enchanted by. 

Truthfully, you know it’s because he isn’t him either.

Digging your phone out of the pocket of your dress, you sigh and open your most recent conversation thread. The bold letters of his name stare back at you, an F in a circle above his last name. Fushiguro.

Free later?

Toji texted you earlier today, while you were still at work, and you opted to ignore him in preparation for tonight. The intention was to clear your mind of distractions or any entanglements you may have lingering, even those with almost unimaginably broad shoulders and green eyes that twinkle mischievously with every salacious wink and smirk he tosses your direction but you didn’t realize you’d fail your mission before 9 pm. 

The sun has only barely set and here you stand in the bathroom of one of the nicest restaurants on this side of the city planning to meet up with your high school crush to pay him for sex. 

Perhaps pathetic is too light of a word for how you feel but you don’t make eye contact with yourself in the mirror for long enough to think about it, gaze darting back down to the backlit screen in your palms.

Your thumbs begin to work before your mind can catch them and you stop yourself, brows furrowed as you press down to highlight the text and delete it altogether. Rubbing your free hand over your face, you sigh and glance down at the text bubble indicating he’s typing on the screen.

You know I can see you typing and deleting?

A knock on the bathroom door makes you yelp as you look over the message, dropping your phone in the still damp porcelain sink with a clatter while uttering low curses under your breath. You hear your name from the other side of the door and in your rush to grab and dry off your phone, you slip the droplet covered device back into your pocket and rush toward the door to see the waitress assigned to your table standing there.

“Uh, he asked me to come let you know that he paid the tab and you can go.”

Panic rises in your chest and your stomach turns as you gaze around her shoulder and look around the restaurant, spotting the table you were just sitting at with its unoccupied chairs.

“Fuck,” you spit before gnawing on your lower lip and the waitress watches you as one would witness a slow motion car crash - incredulously, as if this is something she has never seen before. Part of you wonders if she hasn’t ever seen a woman struggling this close to her, the youthful round of her cheeks convincing you she can’t be old enough to have a lot of life under her belt. 

You shoot her an apologetic glance and she nods curtly.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” your voice is muffled by your own shoulder while you dig through the purse and pinch out a banknote with enough zeroes to make her happy. You think it’s a 10,000 yen note but you can’t be certain and the embarrassment of the evening is carrying your feet toward the door too quickly to verify.

The door spits you out into a balmy evening but you don’t notice, filling your lungs to the brim with fresh air that feels restorative despite the heat. Patting around your body, you ground yourself with the knowledge that your phone is in your pocket. Pulling it out, you click your tongue at the new notification alert on the left side of your screen and exit your conversation with Toji to look at it.

The number isn’t saved in your phone but the words make you hiss as you look over them, shame making your face heat in a way that a warm summer night cannot even begin to replicate.

Hope dating gets simpler for you. Have a good night.

Sighing, you dawdle for a moment wondering how to respond, shifting your weight from foot to foot. People pass you on the street and you worry they’re going to start to wonder why you’ve been standing in front of the restaurant door for so long, dejectedly staring at the glowing screen in your palms.

Taking a few steps, you begin to walk in the direction of the train station and exit out of the conversation with your date, opening Toji’s contact info and holding down on his number until you hear your phone dialing him.

“Was wondering when you’d get back to me,” he doesn’t hesitate to speak as soon as he picks up the phone and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut the moment you hear him. This is so bad, you contemplate with the click of each of your steps. So so bad. “Where you at?”

Humiliated, you dare to feel almost a little comforted by how happy he sounds to hear from you. You’re certain that this is how he sounds with all of his clients, everyone who hires him for a good time, but you want to believe so badly it’s just for you. The lilt at the end of his sentences that you know mean he’s smirking, one corner of his mouth turned up. 

“Do you want to hear the truth or to hear a carefully made up lie?”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone and you wish you could listen to no other sound for the rest of your life.

“Tell me the truth. You’ve never been a great liar.”

A deep exhale deflates your posture and your gaze snaps to your feet as you make your way off to the farthest part of the sidewalk, your voice lowering to keep some shred of your dignity intact. It’s bad enough you’re venting your frustration to the man you pay for sex, you don’t want to think about how mortifying it would be to have a stranger overhear your woes.

“Well, I was on a date and got walked out on so now I’m heading toward the train station.”

A sympathetic hum and shuffling come from the other end of the line, Toji absentmindedly flicking the lighter he keeps in his pocket while you speak. The silence, no matter how momentary, makes you feel awkward and your brain leaps to overcompensate.

“Did you still want to meet? I don’t have a ton of cash but I do have time.”

Another chuckle. You hate that you feel like it’s directed at you rather than to be shared with you and the hot flush of embarrassment makes you reach for your sleeve with your free hand uncomfortably. It was too hot to wear this dress. It was a stupid idea to even come out but his voice keeps your rapt attention, his next words making you genuinely smile for the first time in hours.

“I can’t make you pay full price after getting walked out on. Come over, we’ll work it out.”

Thanking your lucky stars, you shut your eyes tightly and use every ounce of willpower inside of you to keep yourself from crying. Moisture pools at your lashline and you choose to ignore it, relaxing your jaw as you respond.

“You mean it?”

He hums affirmatively and you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel further south at the sound.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t. See you in thirty.”

The call drops from the other end, your phone beeping to signify the ending but you can’t keep a giddy smile from creeping across your face as you press your phone against your chest and open your eyes. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, embarrassment gives way to something you haven’t felt in so long outside of these meetings with Toji that you wonder if you’re about to have a heart attack or something equally disturbing - the familiar flush of affectionate love. 

The unimpressed gaze of your coworker follows you all the way to your desk as you make your way through the rows of desktops on Monday morning. You shrink beneath the weight of it, the wool of your pencil skirt suddenly itching more than it ever has while brushing against your legs with each step. 

She must have heard about how well your date went.

The text message sent from the man still sits, unanswered, in your phone. Shame sits like a brick in your stomach and you keep your head down, even as you sit and the hydraulics of your chair squish beneath you with a “whoosh”. Bouncing back up, you refuse to make eye contact as you get settled, logging in.

“I am never setting you up again,” she spits in a hushed whisper as soon as you sit down next to her, pulling her can of coffee away from you and setting it on the opposite side of her keyboard. 

“If you weren’t ready you should have just said so.”

It’s not like you can defend yourself. You weren’t and remain unready to see anyone else yet it didn’t stop you from immediately stuffing bills in Toji’s hand, legs still shaking while he helped you button your pants and sealed your goodbye with a wink and a kiss on the forehead.

This time, though, was the first time the two of you kissed outside of sex and you’re still reeling. Head fuzzy as you recall the way his scar felt brushing against you for more than immediate sexual gratification. Soft lips, firm flesh, warmth. You swear you feel a ghost of the kiss itself as you sit, surrounded by buzzing overhead fluorescent lights.

The two of you have had sex a dozen times now, once a month your usual schedule, but this time felt different. Maybe it’s the fact that you paid less than usual, maybe it’s the tender way he placed kisses from the underside of your breast clear down to your mound, watching your every move with those glimmering peridot eyes. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

The accusatory voice of your coworker interrupts your reverie and you blink before turning in your direction with your head bowed. Words stick in your throat and you aren’t able to swallow so you mumble a simple “sorry” with nothing further. She scoffs and turns back toward her computer, typing loudly to indicate her annoyance as you click around your desktop.

“He walked out on me, to be fair,” you finally come up with after falling short on a near infinite amount of apologies in your head and she turns once again to stare at you. Her gaze burns and you shift in your seat, the same shame you felt at the restaurant weighing your limbs and keeping you pinned in place.

“He left because you were in the bathroom for 15 minutes with no explanation.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, typing away for a moment before turning toward you again, still unfinished with her thorough lecture about the wrongs you’ve committed. Your body still feels heavy, frozen with embarrassment of your own making, but you manage to sigh and fold your arms over your chest unenthusiastically.

“I was hoping you’d at least tell me you had an accident or something.”

Without thinking, you laugh the hardest you have in awhile and several heads peek above their desktops to glance at your unusual display. They probably think you’re losing your mind and if you were to be frank with yourself, you aren’t convinced that isn’t exactly what’s happening.

You are fantasizing during work about a man you pay to have sex with, pretending you’re anything more than a client with a little cash to blow and he’s a man with a lot of free time and a natural gift for cunnilingus.

Hiccuping, your laughter subsides and your unimpressed coworkers return to their tasks, the one sitting next to you still eyeing in a way that is borderline venomous at this point. You don't blame her, though. You fucked up and can't bring yourself to own up to it when your head is too wrapped up in remembering every peak of Toji's arms wrapped around you.

How the fuck did this happen?

She says nothing further, instead turning to her computer and leaving you to sit staring at the blinking cursor on the screen in front of you. You can unpack every single choice you've made since 16 right now and it still wouldn't lend any clarity as to why you are willing to fuck up every relationship around you for the sake of sleeping with a man who you mean nothing to.

Of course, you don't know that, but it's a safe enough assumption given the dynamic itself.

You swallow thickly, pride sliding down your throat like something you may choke on, and turn your chair toward your coworker.

"I handled it poorly and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

She scoffs, dipping her head low.

"The only person who should be embarrassed here is you."

Accepting the criticism, the truth, you plaster a smile across your face and nod once. Any argument you may have tied together at another point in your life dies and you instead turn back to your work, looking at the little clock on the bottom corner of your screen.

9:15 am.

So many hours left for shame to simmer between your ribs, a molten pool of your own failure to swim around in until you drown.

The lewd pop of Toji releasing your clit from between his lips and your panting are the soundtrack playing through his otherwise quiet apartment. Darkness envelopes both of you, so insatiable by the time you made it back here there wasn’t time to turn on the overhead lights. 

I need to stop, you think in the afterglow of another orgasm delivered by the impressively skilled mouth of the man whose green eyes are fixed on your face. You take in the sight of him, chin and lips soaked from your last release that drenched him. 

“Never seen ya do that before,” Toji remarks from between your thighs. Your muscles twitch on either side of his face and you giggle weakly, tired from being thoroughly fucked and devoured. He places a kiss on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he does so. 

You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, softening with every ounce of care he gives; the way his thumbs assuredly massage the outside of your thighs. It’s all so…tender. It feels like it's meant for a lover, someone you wanna fall asleep beside and rise with in the morning.

Something meant for you and someone else.

If you weren’t so tired you’d already be gone. Instead you groan softly as he rubs a final pair of circles on your skin and sits up, wiping his face across his bicep. He stands and he feels you looking at him, scoping out every nude sculpted inch of him. How is it fair that he not only fucks like a god but looks like one too?

Truly, some people get all the luck.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Shrugging flippantly, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his bedding, getting too used to feeling it beneath you at this point. You've increased your visits from once a month to once a week, twice if you're particularly stressed, and he certainly will never turn down a chance to make some good money.

"How many clients do you have?"

The question leaves your lips before you can really think about the implication of what you're asking but he chuckles, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else over his softening cock. You can still make out the print of it clear as day and it makes your face heat, looking away and feigning interest in the peeling skin around your unkempt cuticles.

"I'm sorry, that was intrusive," you clarify, gaze flicking up from your nail beds to where he fills two glasses of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. You dare to indulge yourself by continuing to look at him rather than away, his hair falling in his face.

For the briefest moment, you think you'd like to be the person to brush it off his forehead forever but he turns to you with a smirk and holds out a glass of water before you can go any further into the delusional fantasies your mind keeps providing to you without asking.

"Why are you asking?" He drinks after asking, finishing his glass in one gulp and setting it back down next to the pitcher. You take the glass extended in your direction, sipping to try and wash down the lump in your throat before it can fully form. "You like me or something?"

Immediately you shoot up, hauling the blanket over your naked form ready to explain away your questioning and he sits down on the edge of the bed with a smile, reaching out and grabbing your covered thigh with one of his hands.

"I was just kidding, don't get jumpy."

Fighting the urge to fidget, you stay sitting up and sip from the water cautiously again, small mouthfuls at a time to keep from feeling overwhelmed. You're so anxious despite having cum so many times you truly lost track and Toji wishes he didn't find it so amusing that after all these years you still manage to be as neurotic as he remembers.

You were a good girl back then, scared of getting caught running around with the delinquent, but you still puffed each time he'd hold the cigarette to your lips. You still tagged along when he would skip class.

He wondered what happened to you when the two of you lost touch. Figured you'd ended up married with a kid or two like him, waiting for the next day and getting through it to the best of your ability.

He was shocked when you messaged him from your social media profile, the photos displayed on your page less than interesting. You standing in front of a shrine on vacation, you smiling next to your family on your grandma's birthday, you looking lonely with a smile that never reached your eyes in photo after photo.

The rest is history, as they say, and you rush to fill the silence.

"Curiosity got the best of me, that's all."

"Five."

You look up, reaching across the bed to slide the water onto the table beside it and he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"Four occasionals, one regular."

Eyes widening at his words, you point to yourself.

"I'm your regular?"

He hums and nods and you take a moment to process the information for what it is. A surprise, certainly, and you can't quite figure out how you feel about knowing he sees four other women even if it is just occasionally. Logic smacks you in the face as you realize you hardly have the right to feel jealous over him doing his job but you let that feeling turn in your head for a moment, wondering what he'd do if you admitted how you felt to him.

Would he stop seeing his other clients? Would he let you take their occasional spots, making sure he's making the same amount of money regardless if it's all coming from you?

"My occasionals don't live in the city so we only meet up when they're in town."

Why he feels the need to explain himself is as lost on him as it is you, your head tilted to the side in confusion. Can he tell this is what you need to hear to quell your own wandering mind or is he simply indulging you to ensure that his regular stays a regular? You hate to think the worst of him, knowing he's a good man beneath the antics he has always managed to get wrapped up in, but the ever shifting boundaries between the two of you get less and less comfortable with every session.

"How about you?" He asks while you slide your knees up and tuck them into your chest, his hand falling to the side in the process. "You paying anyone else for sex?"

Giggling, you shake your head. It's embarrassing to even be asked, your desperation as apparent as your skin itself, but you feel like if there's anyone you can joke about it with it's the man whose face is still sticky with your release.

"Nope, one is plenty. I'm not rich, you know."

He quirks a brow and crawls onto the bed, making his way to hover above you with a smirk and that same hair hanging over his eyes the way you always seem to see it in your daydreams.

Without thinking, you reach up and brush it off of his forehead, your fingers gliding across the sweat slicked skin of his face. You look at him for a moment, the way he looms above you, and your stomach turns.

This is too much. Your fingers tremble gently as you trace them over the bridge of his nose while dragging them off of his face, hand flopping down at your side while you struggle to shift from beneath him to get out of the bed.

"You alright?"

You nod and he backs away, sitting across the bed rather than lingering over the top of you. Sliding your legs off of the bed, you stand and feel him looking at your back as you bend and scramble to grab your clothes.

"Yeah, just realized it's super late."

Hurriedly pulling your pants up over your legs, you stop when you realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you left his bed. His gaze burns and you wither beneath it, burning out like a shooting star as you stand still as a statue.

“Just stay,” he offers as if it isn’t the most self destructive option you could possibly choose. Stay and what? Chew on your nails the entire night until the sun finally rises and you can blissfully leave? Watch morning cast a warm glow over his sleeping body while birds chirp outside?

A persistent echo of the word idiot dances through your head as you briefly consider his suggestion, wondering if it would truly be so terrible to bury your head against his side and sleep soundly for the first time in months.

You can’t do this. The night feels suffocating, like it’s smothering you rather than enveloping you gently, and you pull your pants all the way up and fasten them while throwing your shirt over your head and pulling it on in a surprisingly fluid motion.

“I gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

Bustling out of his apartment, Toji watches your back head toward the door and can’t help but feel as if that was your final goodbye, gone in a flash the same way you returned to him.

Hey stranger, what's up?

The latest in a series of ignored messages pops onto your screen before you can close out the notification, today marking 21 days since the fateful night you cried in the back of an overpriced car the entire way back to your apartment leaving Toji’s behind you.

The messages are all the same - nonchalant and non committal, unspoken business proposals - but you scroll up through them anyway with a broken sniffle. How you’re still managing to cry over this three weeks later is beyond your own understanding but your fingers reach out to brush the screen of your phone regardless, just as they did the smooth skin of his forehead that fateful night.

Life has been normal without him, you reason. You go to work, keep your head down, come home and fall asleep in front of the TV. You’ve been too depressed to even masturbate but you’ve tried, crying through the measly two orgasms you’ve managed to pull out of yourself halfheartedly.

Part of you wishes you’d just die and end this misery once and for all, the other wants to die thinking of how someone would feel looking at your browser history. “Green eyed guy big dick”, “big dick DILF” , “toji big dick”, the terms thay would haunt you enough you worry they’d emblazon them on your headstone if you were to perish.

It’s dramatic, sure, your world has imploded in on itself more than once already but this hurts with the intensity of three broken engagements. Your heart feels like it could give out at any moment and it nearly does when your phone begins to vibrate and ring. Dropping it to the floor below, you sniffle again and feel another round of sobs bubble up in your throat at the name on the screen.

Toji Fushiguro. Clear as day.

You let it ring and ring until you know your voicemail will pick up and you’ll delete it. Fuck, you should really delete his number as a whole but even that feels too permanent.

How did it hurt less when you left your old apartment with an empty ring finger and a few boxes full of your meager belongings than it does to ignore a man you paid for sex?

Truthfully, you know it was never about the sex and you were treading in deep dangerous waters from the start.

You love him.

You loved him back in high school when he was a bad influence, you loved him when you’d open your hidden photos folder to stare at pictures you screen captured from his social media as soon as your fiancé rolled over to fall asleep, you loved him hovering above you with moonlight illuminating every shadow of his face.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you and through a flood of hot tears, you close out the open adult website on your phone and pull up a search tab, typing the words that will lead you to listings for apartments for rent as far away from here as you can possibly get.

Your time here is done and you know it, the ding echoing from your phone letting you know you have a voicemail almost sounding exactly like a timer would but you look at the notification anyway.

It's curious he left you a voicemail but you watch as your screen loads from the browser to the one unopened message in your mailbox. Taking a deep breath, you press play and hear his voice drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, uhh...I dunno what I did to piss you off but maybe we should talk about it. I'll be at the usual spot tonight if you wanna meet. Hope to see ya."

It ends as unceremoniously as it started and you cry harder, rewinding to start it over again. Listening to his voice, you trace your fingers along the screen of your phone a final time before deciding to take him up on his offer.

Closure will only help this process, you think, ending it all and closing this chapter for good.

“Look who it is.”

You recognize the voice coming from behind you but refuse to turn in your chair to greet its owner, instead sipping from your cocktail before tossing your napkin down unceremoniously. 

This isn’t your first time at this less than reputable establishment but you hope it will be your last, ready to get away from the shit in this city you wished you would’ve left behind a long time ago. Him included.

“Toji,” you toss from over your shoulder and the man himself enters your peripheral vision. Refusing to give him the smug satisfaction of turning to look at him, you simply nod and begin to tear the napkin you tossed down into little pieces. You’ve always loved how easy it is to transform things with your hands, from whole to broken and back again. It reminds you of yourself in a strange way.

“I could make some time for you,” Toji sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes at the sound. “If you want.”

A shake of your head is all you offer as you continue to throw bits of paper in front of you, a small pile of bits, all that remains of what once was whole. The metaphor dies as you think about it and you sit quietly as he settles in beside you.

“What would it cost me this time?”

Toji shrugs, the already clinging fabric of his short sleeved shirt gripping him tighter with the motion. You swallow thickly seeing the muscles move from the corner of your eye. He’s gorgeous and you hate it, reminding yourself that loneliness is what led you in his direction in the first place. Or at least you’re still trying to convince yourself of that.

You wish you could have stuck to your guns when you promised yourself you’d stop seeing him.

“I can make a deal for my favorite even if she has been avoiding me lately.”

A laugh escapes before you can stop it and you turn to look at him, taking in the deep jade color of his eyes and the dark lashes that frame them.

What point did you start looking for the mischievous little sparkle that lives inside of those irises? What point did this become more than transactional?

You always have and it never was.

You sigh, tipping your head back to look at the dim modern-attempt-at-vintage overhead lighting and he sweeps his large hand across the bartop to sweep your bits of napkin into his palm. 

“No charge, actually.” 

Making a show of considering his offer, you squirm uncomfortably at the boundary that has been firmly broken by it. He has given you discounts, sure, but to offer a completely free no strings attached session is almost more than you can reasonably deny. You have been suffering in his absence, self imposed exile keeping you locked inside of your apartment when you aren’t at work. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, you’re just trying to exist as simply as possible.

Even the most upright girl needs to have a little fun sometimes, though, you think. Especially since this will be the last time before you go and leave him to his life. You have no place in his world and he no place in yours, two paths that intersected briefly but have to diverge eventually the most the two of you will ever be.

Despite your better judgment, you look at him with a bittersweet smile and he finds the look puzzling. There’s still the ever present softness you hold for him deep in that gaze but there’s something else he hasn’t seen before. 

His heavy stare makes you interrupt with a question. 

“What did I do to deserve a free one?” 

He shrugs, dropping your bits of napkin into your drained lowball glass where they soak up what’s left of the water. The cycle into something new begins again. 

“Feelin’ generous. You in or not?”

Dragging it out for a moment longer, you wonder if you should tell him this will be the last time. You’ve known him for such a long time there’s an element of obligation but you shrug it off and rise from the barstool, smoothing down the fabric of your pants.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Toji doesn’t bother to hide his smug half smile, tossing down a few bills to cover your drink. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you start and he cuts you off as the two of you walk so close your shoulders brush. “Told you I’m feelin’ generous, quit making me regret it.”

He’s teasing but you flinch a bit at his words despite yourself. 

What if he regrets this? What if it hasn’t been as mutually beneficial as you originally thought, you’re just another face with disposable income that wants to see what it feels like to fuck a man with reckless abandon? Isn’t this why you walked away in the first place?

The what ifs will drive you crazy if you keep it up so you let the cool night air clear your mind, gasping as he pushes you against the driver side door of your car.

“Toji,” you warn but his hands glide up your sides and you lift your chin to expose your neck, his lips and teeth easily finding the column of your throat. The vibrations of your voice feel good against his mouth and you yelp as he scrapes at your skin using his front teeth. “Someone could see us.”

He scoffs and lifts his face away from your neck, lips mere inches away from yours. 

“Would that be so bad?” You nod emphatically and he rolls his eyes, dark brows knit together as he considers what you’re saying. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” Your shoulders slump and he presses his lips against yours so quickly you wonder if you imagined it and you sigh.  “No, I’m not. Just would rather people not know I’m paying some dude I used to go to high school with to fuck me.” 

There’s too much truth to your words for him to argue so he simply leans in against, pressing his lips against yours for a moment longer than he previously did. You feel the corner of his lip rise, a little smirk, and you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Don’t seem so ashamed when you’re screamin’ about how you can feel me in your….” he feigns thought for a moment and you feel your face heat, knowing what he’s about to say next. “What is it you always say? Ah, yeah…tummy.” His lips press against yours again and you kiss him back this time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his dark hair around your fingers. The two of you separate before the dry humping starts, catching your breath as you wipe remnants of chapstick and saliva from your lips.

“Get your ass in the car before I change my mind, Fushiguro.” 

He smiles at the sound of his name on your pretty lips. There’s no going back now and he knows it as he squeezes your ass once before rounding your car to enter the passenger side. A glance up at the night sky allows you a moment to clear your mind before you enter the vehicle yourself, shutting the door behind you as you fire up the engine. 

Something new begins again, the night revealing thing you know to be true.

You love him too much for this to be the last time.

[f1stargirll]

Conversation friends • Lando Norris

Chapter One

Word count : 2.150k

Hi guys this is my first time ever writing fanfic. I’ve had this idea for a while now and decided write it! So if any of y’all has feedback/ requests or constructive criticism I’ll be more than happy to listen! (or if u just wanna talk i’m here too <3)

Btw English isn’t my first language so don’t be too harsh on me pls🧚🏼‍♀️

Description : slow burn, college!au (enemies to lovers) and more to come.

I’m gonna make it work. I am going to make this work.

Looking around the tiny apartment I had just collected the keys to, the realization that I was finally here, alone, started sinking in slowly. This was going to be my home for the next year, a tiny apartment in a huge city I barely knew anything about, let alone knew anyone in.

It actually looks cozy, and at least it’s conveniently close to the University.

I really am going to make it work. I started unpacking and realized the need for groceries was imminent so I grabbed my keys and headed for the nearest store GoogleMaps indicated to me.

Strolling around the different isles didn’t feel as unfamiliar as I thought it would, I guess Lidl stores are always a relatively universal experience. But after a few minutes in the store, the bright neon lights and the exhaustion from the flight were seeping into my brain and making me slightly overstimulated.

Okay, got the pasta. Now I need pads and tampons and we’ll be good to go.

Mindlessly putting the cardboard box in my cart, I’m suddenly forced to look up from the huge list I had written on my phone when I feel a finger tapping my left shoulder. I quickly remove one of my headphones and turn around to face the person in front of me.

“Do you mind ?”a boy, around my age but slightly taller than I am, faces me and stares at me with an icy expression.

What’s his deal ? Wait he’s kinda…

“You’re in my way”, he spats.

He’s wearing a simple gray hoodie and sweatpants combo and a black cap hiding what seemed to be loose curls, some of them still peeking from underneath it. His baby blue eyes were piercing through me. He kept his airpods in his ears.

“I’m sorry ?” I responded slightly confused, not really hearing him well above Hozier’s new album playing in my ear.

“Do you not understand English?” He removes one of his hands from the pockets of his sweatpants to point at the box of pasta positioned right behind me, “I said you’re in my fucking way, I’ve repeated it 5 times and you’re still standing there like an idiot,” he mutters through gritted teeth, “unlike you, I don’t have all night.”

Oh, he did not just talk to me like this.

“Well there you go, almighty king of Lidl!” I exclaim while handing him the precious item, "your all powerful box of Linguini” I add, fake bowing down in irony, my face burning in anger. The exhaustion from the flight and the move had already made me easily irritable, but this was just the icing on the cake.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asks, snatching the box away from my grasp, “You just have to make a scene, huh? You’re hysterical” he huffs exiting the aisle, a baffled expression on his face.

So now I’m the crazy one? Unbelievable.

God this was the last thing I needed right now.

I sigh in exasperation, not having the strength to run after him and put up a fight.

This is going to be a long year.

Brushing my bangs slightly away from my eyes, I take a step back in my small bathroom to look for any flaws like unblended makeup or toothpaste stains on my outfit. I tend to have those a lot.

Today is my first day of class and an introduction to the daily life I was about to embark on, so looking and feeling good was quite important.

Taking the small commute to the campus, I sit next to Lola, a girl I met at the bus station earlier this morning. She instantly was very kind and helped me find my way, which turned out to be convenient for the both of us since we were heading towards the same classes. I told her about my trip from Paris and how I was here for a year abroad and she told me all about her dreams of visiting my hometown. We talked for the whole ride and exchanged Instagrams. Lola was a ray of sunshine, a gleam of light in this anxiety-inducing morning.

She also looked like the perfect representation of the sunshine; her hair a polar blond color, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean sea and a porcelain skin adorned with beautiful yet irregular freckles.

Having her by my side for the first classes felt really comforting and I was relieved to find out we shared most of our semester’s classes together. We were both English majors, and since she was here last year she had promised to help me with anything I wouldn’t understand; as I said, a ray of sunshine. We spent the day learning all about this year’s curriculum and all the work we were about to achieve.

Heading towards my last class of the day, the first meeting of what was called “Conversation Friends”. It was a program I had applied to while enrolling here, international students meeting local students once a week to exchange in English or the student’s native language. A program created to help international students better their English and make new connections.

Not knowing anyone here, I thought it would be a great opportunity to make a friend, share a nice moment and discover the city better.

But Lola warned me not to get too excited since most students in the university only did it to gain extra credit or even get a quick hookup out of it. Fine with me, people can do whatever they want, I believe I’ll still get to meet someone nice.

I like to think of myself as a pretty open person so it shouldn’t be too hard to connect with whoever it’ll turn out to be.

Walking into the amphitheater, I decide to choose a seat in the middle row and take out my notebook to write down some notes. Looking around, I can see a lot of different students from every corner of the earth and I suddenly feel a wave of comfort knowing I’m not the only one who left home for this new adventure.

“Is this seat taken?”a boy with a thick Australian accent asks while pointing to the seat on my left.

“Not at all, it’s all yours”I responded with a smile which he returned. And boy did he return it. That man was all teeth, and nose. I extended my hand to introduce myself, “my name is y/n, I’m guessing you’re Australian right?”.

He took my hand and shook it earnestly, “You’re good! I’m Daniel, nice to meet you”.

He sat next to me and we started getting to know each other quickly. Daniel seemed really kind and was really funny. I learned that he was majoring in geography (didn’t even realize that was a thing) and lives in the complex right in front of mine. He also has a passion for karting (didn’t know that was a thing either).

He’s cute. Daniel is really cute. With his little brown curls, sparkly eyes, and his smile, so big it could resuscitate a dying dentist.

He told me a little more about the program too since he had been part of it last year in a university in Montreal. He informed me that our partners were going to be chosen randomly and that we’re not allowed to change if we don’t get along.

That sucks. I hope my partner’s gonna be nice or funny, or both like Daniel. Well not just like Daniel but at least a little like Daniel, why do I keep talking about Daniel ? Daniel’s just really cute.

“So, how do you like it here so far?”he asks, crossing his long legs in front of him.

“Well, I’ve only been here for two days so I really couldn’t tell you much. I yelled at this very rude guy when I went shopping yesterday, all for some Linguini.” He questions my answer with an amused expression in his eyes.”I also met this really nice girl, Lola, she reminds me of you a little bit actually, must be the golden retriever energy.” I smile as I answer his question, feeling grateful for my encounter with the blonde this morning. At least.

“So you’re calling me a dog, after I’ve been nothing but kind, that’s what you’re doing? Wow y/n, wow.” He replies with a dramatic hand on his chest and a goofy smile on his face. “Can’t believe you fought over pasta.”

On the main stage, a professor clears his throat into the mic, telling us that the meeting is about to start. He then takes the first ten minutes to inform us on all the details of the program, like how partners have to meet at least once a week, on campus or in cultural instances like museums, cinemas or parks, some of which will be organized by the university and thus mandatory.

As if you have to ask me twice to go out for a movie, whoever it’s with and whatever the movie is, oh baby I am going to be in that seat eating my sweet popcorn. Except for horror movies, can’t watch those. I’m scared of everything horror or creepy, I can't even watch children’s movies like The Nightmare Before Christmas or Caroline.

The clanking of two fish bowls on the professor’s desks takes me out of my thoughts and I realize that he’s really about to pull out our names and assign us to partners like it’s the sunday lottery.

This is going to be very entertaining.

“Please stand up when I call out your name so your partner can see you as well,“ the professor instructs us.

His hand mixes around the first bowl of tiny pieces of paper and pulls out the first name “Daniel Ricciardo” he says into the mic, looking around for the Australian boy sitting next to me.

Daniel stands up proudly, waving at everyone in the audience like he’s on stage at a beauty pageant. His partner is next, a charming Asian boy called Alex, who was sitting front row and turned around to find Daniel and waved at him aggressively.

These two look like they’re about to have a lot of fun. Lucky Daniel.

Of course my name came up last, because why wouldn’t it ? I stand up as I hear my name being called out and let my eyes investigate the remaining students in the room, until I see him.

Fucking Linguini.

“Lando Norris” I simultaneously hear over the speakers as I see the boy who disrespected me in the middle of shopping yesterday stand up from his seat.

This can’t be real, this is a practical joke.

As his eyes meet mine I can see the smile he previously wore on his face disappear and make way for disgust as his brain processed how I looked so familiar.

The audacity of that man.

“Perfect! Apparently now everybody is paired with their partners,” the professor smiles in contentment, “now if every pair could please make its way to the front of the room to sign the register.”

As I make my way over to the front of the room, I see my so-called partner bolting towards the professor and hear him babbling about how he can’t be my partner and begs to trade with someone else.

“Norris, we both know you can’t afford to miss out on the extra credit, and the pairs have already been established, there’s no negotiation” the professor answers him sternly.

I can’t believe it. He was the one who was bad-mannered and almost verbally assaulted me in the middle of the store for nothing! I was actually considering putting this behind us to start the program on a good note and give him a chance but apparently that would be in vain. If he wants to be petty, I can beat him at his own game, that’s for sure.

Standing in front of him, I tilt my head to the side to meet his gaze “You are just unbelievable! I barely know your name and you’re already making me regret enrolling in this program.”

Looking right at me, he hands me the paper I have to sign without a word.

“You’re actually not going to talk to me? We barely know each other, this is ridiculous!” I exclaim in irritation, snatching the paper from his hands the way he snatched the box of pasta from my hands the day before.

“Can you not be annoying ? Or is that impossible for you?”he blurts out in resentment, “I’m just trying to do this thing and go home, you’ll find my email on the thing or whatever” he says without even giving you the time to respond.

This is definitely going to be a very long year.

[jessjad]

Unexpected

Chapter 4

Summary: After a Halloweenparty Y/N actually didn't want to got to, her life seems to be turned around. The reason is a very stubborn Supe that seems to have her in his visier. Is it just a coincidance or more?

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Word Count: 1939

Warnings: none really, some language (duh)

A/N: Not me over here, who deleted the whole chapter and didn't have a backup of it. 🤦🏼‍♀️ Well, that's what my mind remembered. Hope, you still like it. All mistakes are mine.

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

When Y/N woke up the next morning she felt incredibly warm. It took her a couple of moments to fully awake but then she shot her eyes open upon realizing why. A heavy arm was draped over her middle and Ben's bare chest was pressing against her back. Y/N smiled a little for a few seconds but then she sat up in shock.

Yesterday after she stormned into her bedroom she didn't come out again. All of this was so ridiculous and she just wanted to be alone. Some time later Ben had knocked on her door a couple of time complaning that he was hungry, but she ignored him. There were a lot of groceries in her kitchen. If he was really hungry, he could make himself something to eat. She had already made it very clear that she was not his servant.

The talk she had with her mom on the phone was still present in her mind. She never wanted to hurt her like that. Tears started to build in her eyes again. It had been a tough time for all of them and this was not a situation she had seen herself in. Trying to get rid of these thoughts she fell asleep at one point. And the whole time, Ben was still outside in her livingroom and not here. With her. In her bed.

Ben started to groan slowly. "What'r doin'?"

"What are you doing?" she pointed out.

Now, he opened one eye, wrinkled his nose and looked at her appraisingly. "I'm sleeping."

"IN my bed! You're sleeping... in my bed!"

To that Ben propped himself up on one arm and looked over to her.

"Where else am I supposed to sleep? On your little couch out there on which only my legs fit? I don't think so." Ben laid down again on his pillow and was already drifting back to sleep.

"Great... not just my life, my bed too." Y/N grumpled to herself as she left the bedroom.

On her way over to the bathroom she drew a quick glanze to the couch. Ben had no idea what he was talking about. The couch was big enough to sleep on it, she had had enough of good afternoon naps to prove it. And even he would fit on it without a problem, if he would not be such a big, whining baby.

After she freshened up, Y/N went back to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. At the same time she called the store. Stacey picked up and told her how the people had reacted after she left with Ben. They were asking if this really was Soldier Boy and why he left with that woman. They started to fight and argue with eachother, so that Stacey had to ask all of them out of the store. Y/N sighed at that and told her that she was coming in to work today.

"You gonna make breakfast today?" The bedroom door was open and Ben looked over, rubbing his eyes. "I had to order something yesterday 'cause you didn't cook anything."

"There is so much food in this kitchen. You're a grown ass man, make it yourself."

Ben groand. "Even Faye Dunaway was not in such a fucking bad mood as you are right now when I suddenly assfucked her."

'Oh, you're not gonna get into MY ass. That's for sure!' Y/N thought and drank a sip of her deliciously warm coffee.

"Well, you'll never know. Maybe you'll like it." Ben smiled sleazy.

"Huh, I can promise you right know, that..." she started to answer, but stopped and frowned. "Wait a second... I... I did not say that out loud!"

Now, the supe frowned too, but didn't give an answer. He stopped beside her, took out a mug of the cabinet and pured himself some coffee. Y/N looked up to him with angry eyes.

"Can you read minds?"

After he swollowed a mouthful of his own coffee he looked at the woman next to him hesitantly.

"It's not like that..." he responded. "It's more like... I can hear thoughts."

Oh great! That's not what she wanted to hear. It'll make things even more complicated and in a way it made her feel vulnerable. She turned away from him, placed her half full mug into the sink and left the kitchen.

"I have to go to work." She grabed her jacket and purse.

Ben followed her. "You think that's a good idea?"

"We'll see. I have to go back anyway to discuss the situation for the future. See you later."

And with that she left an almost worried supe behind.

"The Cameron Coleman hour" was about to air and Homelander tried to look at ease. Coleman made some smalltalk with him, but he didn't really respond to that. They got counted in and he displayed a big smile on his faces. The questions were discussed beforehand and so the blonde man was confident to be able to handle this interview.

"Today on the show we have Homelander, who will give us his intake on the recent events in downtown New York. There have been some videos and pictures that have gone viral."

In the backround on the big screen they showed various sightings of Soldier Boy and the woman he picked up out of different perspectives. Coleman turned to Homelander who did the same.

"So, Homelander. I'm sure you've already seen all of these." he pointed to the screen and Homelander nodded his head. "What do you think about this? Is this real... or fake?"

"Well, Cam, what can I say? It definitly lookes pretty real."

"He really seems to be back, right? Which brings up the question where he had been since the last time we've seen him in New York. It was confirmed that he blew up the house by which 10 people died. He didn't seem that stabile back then. You think that changed now?"

"Look. The last time he was back in New York he didn't stop by the Vought Tower. We had no official testing getting done on him. He disappeared and reapeared now. It is impossible to say how he's feeling and what's going on with him. But..."

"Is that not something that Vought should care about the most right now? That he's not a risk anymore?"

"BUT..." Homelander continuted firmly without answering Cameron's question. "... Soldier Boy is not what we need right now. He is not america's hero anymore. He is NOT better than me or any other supe of the Seven. We have men out there who will lookout for him and when we get him, he will be gone forever."

"Is... is that not a little... excessive?"

"I will promise you all out there, on my name, that I personaly will take care of him." Homelander said directly into the camera, ignoring Cameron completly.

And the underlaying anger in Homelander's eyes left no room for doubt on his words.

"Well, we... know, that we can rely on Homelander. He's our hero after all." Cameron brought the camera and attention back to himself.

"Another thing I heared is that you're now a active part on the board of Vought. Is that right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right. After all, I am now the rightfully face of Vought." Homelander smiled.

"That’s true." Cameron agreed and turned to look at the camera again. "And after the break we will talk about how Homelander affects the flow of Vought's shares on the stock market and whether they will achieve this year's percentage or whether our 'all american hero' will have to change the marketing strategy. All this right after the commercials."

And while Cameron talked, the smile disappeared from Homelander's face and he seemed more and more distracted. As if he had to consider whether Cameron was intentionally embarrassing him or just wanted to clarify the facts in this way. However, the high pitched noise in his ears was only audible to himself.

The way down to the store went rather uneventful. The hoddie Y/N had draped over her head probably did his part to it. She tried not to make any eyecontact with poeple that passed her and kept her eyes down. By the time she went through the door, she released a sigh of relief. The noise from the streets outside went silend and calmed her racing pulse down a little.

"Y/N?" Stacey brought the attention over to her.

Y/N looked up and hurried to her co-worker behind the desk. In the back of her mind she still heared Ben's question and it made her uneasy. The escape out of her apartment felt better than staying in there with the supe. But now, being out in public, seemed not to be such a good idea anymore. If something were to happen to her, the best protection she could get would be from Soldier Boy himself. So, the faster she got done with this, the faster she would be back in her apartment... with Ben. Either of these solutions seemed not asspiaring, but that was all she got now.

"How bad was it yesterday? I know you said that the customers were... lively, but..."

"That's one way to put it. That they didn't rip the store apart was all. But what's more important is... you're together with a supe? I mean... Soldier Boy himself???" Stacey asked excited.

"Shh. Not so loud!" Y/N took a look around but the few customers didn't seem to overhear them. "C'mon."

They went a little further in the back. "It's not like I planed it. I... I met him on a halloweenparty and he... kept sticking around."

Stacey smiled over her whole face and it took everything from Y/N to not let her know the truth. Even with Homelander on live tv killing people the fascination did not die down, but she would not give in to it.

"But I don't wanna talk about it. I don't have much time anyway." and with that they talked about her probably long absence at work.

An half hour later Y/N was ready to leave again, but when they came out of the back, the store was full of people and when they realized, that is was really Y/N, the woman Soldier Boy had left with, the mayhem began anew. People started to get closer to the counter, taking out their phones to take pictures or videos, she had no idea. Stacey tried to break a way through the crowd, but it was not that easy.

"It's her! It's her!" , "She's together with Soldier Boy!" , "How can you do something like that?" , "She's together with a traitor!" , "Homelander is the only hero!"

This was not what Y/N had expected. She kept her head down and tried to make her as small as she could, but it did not really work. She was thankful for Stacey, but she also felt sorry for her to take in the bigger blow of this. They did not get as fast to the front door of the store as she had hoped and some of the people started to try and grab at her arm or her hair just to get her attention. This was getting bad.

But then, all of a sudden, the front door blew open with a bang. Gunshots rang through the air without hitting anyone and people started to gasp. The herd scattered down in shock and everyone looked around in fear. Only Y/N and Stacey stayed where they were, with their eyes to the door.

"Alright, Motherfuckers! Get out of the way!"

A/N: That was a close one. Who has come to help her? 🤔 We'll see next time. 😊

@lyarr24 @leigh70 @k-slla @deadlydivergentgirl @deans-spinster-witch

[an-expected-journey-to-jeju]

Journal entry #14

It's been a full week since I started school again.

Monday and Tuesday were alright but I didn't end up going to school because my stomach hurt. Before I continue, I have to complain about how much I hate my stomach.

So on Monday, I might have eaten too many cocktail sausages because at midnight, was fighting for my life in the bathroom. I had the WORST intestinal gas pain in my whole entire life. I was so nauseous and I felt like i was getting stabbed. I swear, I couldn't find my waist after I was done. It was literally gone, SNATCHED. I though that was the end but on Wednesday I woke up with stomach pain (gas pain). It wasn't super bad, but it was definitely uncomfortable. I ended up staying home that day. I could have gone to school, but who wants to be uncomfortable with gas pains at school? Also I didn't know how I would get to school and I didn't have enough time to figure it out (that's anxious person time, not normal person time).

Oh, you wanna know the reason why I didn't know how to get to school? Well, as you know I only had one week off and I was wondering if it was the same with the regular uni students. Well I found out that their break is different AND longer. So the shuttle bus that I usually take is not running anymore UNTIL March. My semester ends February 20th! So for this whole semester, I have to take the regular public bus to get to school which is totally fine except I'll be moving far away from the school soon.

Anyway, school has been pretty good. I only missed one day cause of my stomach, but I'm liking it! It's still inconvenient to learn in a classroom. I'd rather just learn by myself, but at least I am able to concentrate. We also had class in the different building for the whole week. It was warm, but I hate that the heater doesn't seem to stay on/stay a consistent temperature. I get toasty warm, and then cold again, and then toasty warm, and then cold again. I hate my body temperature, it fluctuates so much.

2024.12.22

If I didn't suddenly remember, Christmas would have gone past and I wouldn't have even known. It's just so different here than back home. I'm so used to seeing houses with Christmas trees and lights, but there is none of that here. It's also weird not being home for Christmas. I miss everyone and the vibes and the food. I really wish I could have gone home for Christmas. I wouldn't care about the cost or flight time. I just wish that I had an actual vacation, then I would have the time to go.

I also went to a grocery store today with one of the sisters that works in the kitchen at LRIS. It was pretty fun! I just like being in grocery stores I think. The organization, the different sections, is just *muah*. Of course I had to do my makeup as well. I have to look better than everyone else in the grocery store LOL. I wish I had my own car, then I would be able to drive to the grocery stores whenever I want and stock up on food. I've really been wanting to cooking these days. I've actually been studying up on how to cook. If only I could actually put into practice the things I've been learning. I really want to cook! I think I am able to cook in the kitchen downstairs, but I don't know where anything is as well as I don't have the ingredients to cook with. I wouldn't mind taking the bus to a mart but even getting to a bus is a bit tedious. It's also very cold outside because of the wind. Apparently near the new school there is a super market? But when I looked at it on kakao maps it does not look like a super market. I'm not sure if it was just labeled wrong, or "super market" is just a very generic term and can be used for anything. (I went to go check again, but now I'm on TikTok LOL)

I also figured out how to get to school! So on Thursday I got dropped off at school because I still didn't know the bus schedule. But Friday, I took the bus! I still didn't have a good idea of when the bus would come because there wasn't exactly a set schedule I could find like I can at home. I woke up later because I thought I would have more time but then I got a message from the brother that drove me saying to leave now. I was still getting ready so I had to pick up the pace. Overall it was pretty straightforward. The bus comes at 8:23~ish and the terminus station is my university so I don't have to worry about when to get off.

It also has been officially three months since I've came here!

[kimhargreeves]

Babysitting Demons-Male! Power x Reader (Chainsaw Man)

Summary: Living with your brother has been peaceful and quiet but soon enough your peaceful life is turned upside down when you both are forced to live with Denji and Power.

(This is a male Power x Reader. I was expecting the one shot to written differently but oh well, maybe I'll try writing another one soon. Hope you all enjoy this Power one shot. Image isn't mine, credit to the artist.)

"She told you to what?!" I let my cool guard down and growl at my brother Aki who seems quite perfect with the situation. We both were currently dining at a diner, he said he was summoned by Makima and she said that it'd be a great idea for the two of us to look after the Chainsaw Man and his friend Power.

I met the boy just once earlier today and he seemed like a creep wanting to be with any girl and I caught sight of his friend Power who's quite to loudmouth as well. It seems like our peaceful home won't be so peaceful after all.

It's always been just the two of us, it'll be strange to all of the sudden live with not only one but two people we barely know.

Aki sighed and took a sip of his coffee, "Sorry to inform you of this, the request also took me by surprise. I also have one more request."

I hummed and looked at my twin brother. "I'll be in charge of cleaning up our apartment, so I'll need you to buy some food once we're home."

"Alright.." i sigh and placed some money on our table. "Let's go home then, how bad can babysitting be?" I ask and I see my brother glance away and almost choke on the cigarette smoke he was exhaling.

***************

The two of us seemed like parents trying to calm both teenage boys but we managed to get to our apartment. I glanced over and ordered both boys to get rid of their shoes before entering, "Hey, don't you know it's rude to enter with shoes on?!" Denji shouted at Power.

The short haired strawberry blonde kid simply stuck his tongue out at Denji. "Take those off!"

"No way I'll do it myself!" Power took his shoes off and laughed when one of his shoes hit Denji's face.

"No more fighting!" Aki said already having a short temper with them.

I took my suit jacket off and placed it aside wandering around the apartment and wanting to get some rest. "Hey human!" I frowned and looked over at Power who was sitting on the floor with a cat on his lap.

"I'm hungry feed me and Meowy." I continue to frown and pointed at the almost sleeping cat.

"That's one big fat cat. I'm surprised a demon like you hasn't eaten it yet."

"That's what I said!" Denji said from the other side of the room and frowned looking away, looking already bored when Aki ordered him to help him clean the place up.

"(Y/N), I'm planning on making some dinner soon. Don't forget to head to the nearest supermarket." I heard my brother remind me.

"I wanna go! Besides, I would never eat my cat!" Power pouted and continued to pet his cat.

I sniffed the air and tried to locate the smell and knew it was coming from Power. "Hey, when was the last time you took a bath?"

Power made a gagging sound and shook his head. "Baths are unnecessary, I don't like em".

This is going to be way harder than I thought. I have a feeling that they'll be living with us for a long ass time.

"If you wanna head to the grocery store with me you'll have to take a bath before we leave-"

"No way! I'm not going then." He hissed and I growled standing on my feet and grabbing him by the sweater.

"You have to clean up anyways so you're having a bath wether you like it or not." I threatened and felt Power fall down to the floor and try to crawl away. Lucky for me I am strong so I easily moved him all the way to the bathroom.

"Hehe I wanna see this." Denji said grinning and laughing at Powers misery.

"Denji help me with Power, I'll be right back."

"I'll gladly help but.." Denji smiled wide and stared at my chest. I frowned and glared at him hard.

"Want me to kick your ass?" I ask fighting back a laughter.

"N-No ma'm." He gulped when. He saw my cold stare.

I nodded my head once and left the bathroom to tie my hair up and take off my black tie. "Is that demon giving you a hard time?" Aki asked untying his hair taking his jacket off.

"It's nothing I can't handle. Though, it's already so tiring.."

"Don't worry they'll be off our backs in no time." I sighed in disapprovement and furrowed my eyebrows together glancing at my brother worried.

"I still don't get why you'll do anything Makima tells you to. She's just playing you."

I felt Aki's eyes on me but I ignored his slight glare. He knows well how I feel about Makima, I sense something odd in her whenever I'm with her.

"Will you just get Power ready so you can bring the groceries?" I decided to not say nothing and simply went back to the bathroom and found it a mess. I haven't been gone for five minutes and this is already a chaos.

"What the hell?!" I said glaring at both males. Denji was drenched from head to toe with Power sat on the toilet fully nude and hissing at Denji, not to mention that he wasn't exactly hiding himself.

I blushed hard from both embarrassment and anger. "Take a picture it'll last longer human." Power said slowly.

"He's such a pain in my ass. I'm leaving this to you." Denji said leaving and closing the door on his way out.

I pointed at the shower tub and glared at Power. "Inside now." Power continued to pout but now did as told and he sat down under the shower head in the tub. I huffed out annoyed as I stepped closer and rolled up the sleeves of my long sleeve and dumped some warm water on his head.

Power said nothing as I began to clean him up, simply holding it in himself to not make another scene and to remain still.

He seemed like a dog trying to stay still while being showered. Power for the time being was acting obedient so I placed the last bit of water on his head and placed a towel on his head beginning to fry his head.

"There all done." I said taking a step back and feeling Power step out of the tub. Power sniffed himself and stuck his tongue out.

"Gross I feel so clean."

"Just get dressed quickly and we'll leave." I said handing him clothes and stepping out of the bathroom. "I'm so tired." I groaned not imagining what the rest of our weeks will be like.

************

"There's so many delicious treats here." I noticed Power drooling he caught sight of a hot dog and burger stand outside the grocery store.

"We're not even inside yet, idiot." I muttered noticing him trying to fetch and grab a burger.

"Huh? Isn't this part of the grocery store? They look so delicious." He said drooling almost on me.

"Nope. Will you behave if you try one-"

"Hey! I want one of those." He demanded from the man selling them. The man nodded preparing a burger for him.

I eyed Power up and down and blushed a little when I saw his eyes light up when he stared at the burger in his hand. He kinda looks adorable when he's not being so noisy and demanding.

I dug out my wallet and paid the man and began entering the grocery store with Power racing after me and staring in awe at all the different food items.

"Can we get this, human?!" I hummed and saw Power hold up one of those lunchables types of meals with smiley face potatoes.

"My name isn't human, demon!" I gritted my teeth but puffed my cheeks and made him place the pack of kids food there.

"If we'll be leaving together you'll have to address me by my name, you know?" I tell Power when we are checking the food out, ready to head back home.

"Ugh! I'll wait outside." Power said ignoring me and heading outside to wait. Pssh he's so weird. I paid for all the food and I started carrying my bags outside and met up with Power who was outside hiding something in his pocket.

The male looked away and dug his hands in his pockets. "Ma'm is he with you?"

"Ehh?" I ask when I felt the man selling the burgers tap my shoulder.

The man smiled to himself when he said, "He ordered five burgers."

I irked and glared at Power who was grinning to himself and holding another burger in his hand. I groaned loudly and took out some more cash to pay the man once more.

"Your boyfriend is one hungry fellow. Thanks for the money."

"He's no such thing!" I growled seeing the man hide behind his stand. I began to walk faster ready to leave Power by himself till I heard him racing after me.

**************

"Broccoli yuck!" Power gagged and threw the vegetable away when I tried to give some for him to taste. I tried grabbing him and forcing him to at least try one piece.

"I refuse to eat such healthy and disgusting thing." Power fought.

The chopsticks I was holding was thrown away away with the single piece of broccoli I was holding. "Quit being such an idiot and eat the damn thing. Ugh why are you so-"

"So full of shit?" Denji said beginning to laugh until Aki punched his shoulder. "Ow what the hell antenna boy?!" Denji said.

Power laughing to my side when our focus was now on Denji and not on him. "Next time I'll leave you two to cook then. See if you'll be able to survive on trash." Aki said eating his food with no trouble.

"(Y/N), how was your trip to the grocery store with Power?" My brother asked, as soon as he saw my tired expression he remained silent and nodded.

"I see. Well they have to learn, we did our job and they'll have to do theirs."

"Huh?" Denji and Power asked when they saw my brother standing up once he was finished eating.

"You'll both do the dishes."

"You both suck!" The demons said trying to fight us.

"We are receiving you at our home, the leats you can do is do the dishes." I calmly told them and saw their upset faces.

Aki went outside the balcony to smoke and I went to my room wanting some quiet time since both Denji and Power were arguing in the kitchen, on who would wet their hands while doing the dishes and who would dry them.

I fell on top of my bed and stared up at the ceiling feeling already so tired. I opened my eyes eyes a bit and noticed Power's cat was inside my room, sleeping on the corner of my bed, deeply asleep and purring.

I sat back up ready to change myself when I sniffed and smelled the scent of meat. I looked over my table and saw a wrapped burger on it, i noticed a crippled paper on it and tried reading what it said.

"To the human, (Y/N)"

Staring back at it I noticed there was a tiny smiley face on it as well. I sighed to myself and smiled a bit, maybe the idiot does think about others than himself.

[tkworks80]

Complex 4

That night was a blur. All you knew was that you stood against the kitchen counter facing him. The hungover fell on your head like a ton of fucks. Most people would just stay in bed and nurse the hangover. But, you got up out of bed feeling nauseated and your head feels as though there is a knife lodged in the back of your head. You dragged yourself to the bathroom almost feeling the vomit in the back of your throat. You rushed to the toilet and quickly vomited, tasting the vodka, and regret drinking the night before. 

Keigo got up to the sound of y/n vomiting and Saturday morning cartoons. He walked towards the bathroom to help y/n. He leaned at the bathroom doorway and sighed. "Babe stay in bed I'll take care of the kids and when you're feeling better I'll get you something to eat," he said while grabbing a glass of water for y/n. 

"I don't need your help Keigo, just leave me alone," you muttered before you dry heaved. You wearily waved Keigo off. "Take care of the kids and leave me alone," you whispered. Keigo shrugged but, before he walked out he heard "you know some people have shame after fucking their spouse's best friend," you mumbled. He looked down feeling guilty and walked out to tend to the kids. How can I divorce this stupid bird? 

You ponder what life would be when you finally break free from this nightmare of a marriage. You already knew that you would be fighting to get custody of your children. Your heart broke a little when you wasted so many years with a perfect man you once thought was yours forever. You were in self-destructive mode on the inside but, in front of your children you still kept up the facade as a doting mother. You sighed and covered your face with your hand and questioned yourself ‘how long can you put up with this idiot?’ you finally got up from the now warm tiled bathroom room and slowly dragged yourself to the shower. What seemed like forever you slowly peeled off your alcohol-smelling clothes and entered the shower, the warm water felt so soothing to you and you wished that all your worries would’ve of wash away like yesterday's dirt and sweat. You slowly slid down the shower wall and rest your head on your knees wishing that he would have never confessed in which popped the beautiful bubble we call marital bliss. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Keigo knocking on the bathroom door wondering if you were okay. “Leave me alone!” you yelled through the door. “The kids just wanted to know if mommy was okay,” he mumbled, but you heard him. “tell them I’m okay,” was all you blurted out. When you finally got out you had a solid plan to leave that cheat, you got dressed and took the keys to the car and asked the kids if they would like to go to the stores with you, knowing they always say ‘yes'. "Hey kids wanna go grocery shopping with me?” you asked and they excitedly said ‘yeah’. You gathered them up and noticed Keigo was putting on his jacket thinking he was going to join you guys but, you put a stop to that. “Keigo, why don't you rest for a bit and clean the grill,” you said with a smile. “It’s okay…we can go together that way I could help you with the bags,” he smiled back. “It’s okay I can manage with the kids,” you retorted back. He looked at the kids “Hey kids let’s wait in the car for mommy,” he said while taking the keys out from your hand. You tried to reach for the keys but, Keigo was a little bit fast and turned to the door escorting the kids to the car. Your heart sunk to your stomach. How could you be so stupid to think that Keigo would trust you with the car and kids after the incident from the other day. Looking from the opened door you saw Keigo putting the kids in the back seat, buckling them up. Just when you were about to walk out the door your home phone rang and you quickly answered the phone “Hello,” you answered. “Hey,” Uraraka answered. Your heart dropped for the second time today and with a shaky voice “I know Ochako, I know all about you and my husband,” you said and then hung up. You went to the doorway and saw Keigo as he was sitting down on the driver's side and knew right away that the shopping trip would not happen. You quickly walked out of the home and took the kids from the car and finally walk passed Keigo. “Wh-where are you going?” Keigo asked in shock. “I’m leaving you Keigo and I am taking the kids with me,” you answered. He quickly walked to you “Where would you go? You don’t know anyone around here,” he said as a matter of fact. “Anywhere as long as it is away from you!” you yelled back. “Come on y/n, not in front of our kids… can you keep your voice down, and you still haven’t answered my question… where would you go? to a homeless shelter? why go to a shelter when you have a perfectly good home here with me?” he tried to reason with you. “Why would I want to stay here with you…you of all people…you the cheater,” you retorted. “Get in the house y/n I’m not playing with you,” Keigo warned you. “No, no I don’t think I will…we are done Keigo…keep that backstabbing hussie…you deserve each other,” you turned and walked away with your kids. He followed you and grabbed your shoulder roughly “You’re not going anywhere your staying here and being a pretty little wife,” he roughly grabbed your wrist and walked you back into the house before anyone noticed that spat between you and Keigo. He flung you into the living room and you quickly got up before the kids could enter and see you in such a state. “I want to leave Keigo, why do you want to keep me? you have Ochako…you don’t need me anymore,” you cried out. “Look y/n, let the kids go to bed tonight and then we could talk because it’s not really healthy for our kids to see this,” he pleaded with you. “Are you keeping me here so that you can have your cake and eat it too? this is ridiculous Keigo and in all honesty I think you lost your fucking mind,” you said while walking back to the bedroom, you looking back at Keigo “Oh, I will be in my room for the remainder of the day and Keigo I will be getting that divorce even if it kills me I am quite determined,” and with that you slammed the door in his face. 

The remainder of the day was like a blur you heard the kids laughing, watching television and keigo cooking for them. How could this asshole be so nonchalant about what he did to this family he literally destroyed this family with his confession. Pacing back and forth, feeling anxious to what is going to come next as soon as they’re in bed and asleep. Your dreaded the moment that the asshole comes back in the room. It was almost the time when you heard the kids gleefully walk past your room and into their rooms to get ready for bed and hearing Keigo kissing them good night, gently closing each door so that they wouldn’t hear anything. Keigo opened the bedroom door to find you on the other side of the room glaring daggers at him and he knew that this might get physical. Looking around the room to see if there might be anything thing to hinder him from catching up to you. After all, he was a hero and he knew how to assess the situation on hand the tension was thick that you could cut it with a knife. You broke the silence “I will be getting the divorce Keigo,” was all you said. He looked up and simply said “No”. “I’m done with you Keigo, don’t even think of coming near me,” you warned as he slowly walked Your way. He was now 5 feet away from you when you slowly backed away. “Look at you shaking like a leaf… do you think I will hurt you?” Keigo questioned you with a glint in his eye. “Stay back Keigo, so help me-” you were interrupted by him “So help you what y/n?” he said while closing the distance between you two. You quickly jumped on the bed and tried to run across the bed to get away from him. He tackled you in bed “Oh baby did you think it was a good idea for you to get on the bed?” he whispered in the back of your ear. Lifting your dress to your waist and pulling down your underwear, trying to kick him off of you he applied pressure of his weight against you. “Stop struggling baby I’m not hurting you I’m trying to calm you down,” he said while reaching around you to open the folds of your pussy. Once he reached in between your folds to your clit he started to rub you gently while trying to quieted you down. The feeling of anger and disdain reached all over your well-being. “Get the fuck off of me and stop doing what your doing to me!” you tried yelling but, your face was against the mattress. “Mmmm baby, your body is telling me otherwise, should I explore the gorgeous pussy of yours with my fingers or do you want my tongue?” he teased.  “Neither you sick son of a bitch, get the fuck off of me, I hate you so fucking much,” you struggled to say. “Awww baby, I thought you wanted some excitement in our bedroom…I’m just giving you what you want,” he hummed out. He felt the wetness of your cunt and smiled “look at you, look at you, you are really enjoying this aren’t you?” he chortled. He flipped you over seeing your tearful eyes and paused for a second only pitying the sight before him just for a second. “Fuck I forgot how gorgeous you look when you are horny,” he smirked. he unzipped his pants in which sent you into over drive and you quick slapped him and kicking off of bed in order to get away from this insane birdman. You quickly ran towards the master bathroom but he grabbed your ankle before you could reach the bathroom. He was paying more attention to your reactions and how loud your guys were making noise so the children wouldn’t wake up. “The more your fighting baby, the more I want you,” he chucked. The tears were blurring your vision and your lungs were burning due to the heavy exertion you were doing in order to get away. “Baby, don’t fucking fight this…this is going to happen rather you like it or not,” he said while crawling up to you and roughly spreading your legs with his knees. He held your arms over your head while he was rubbing his all too familiar cock head on your involuntary wet slit. Groaning your name he dipped into your wet entrance while your hips were trying to dodge his cock but it was a failed attempt. He slowly sunk into your depths and you felt so full, but you were still trying to push him off you. “Damn your pussy grips so good… I need to go faster…ohhhhh we are most definitely making me a baby tonight,” he groaned out. Thrusts became faster and more desperate to the point all you heard were wet slaps. Your eyes stung from the sweat Keigo was dripping onto you while he desperately fucked into you. “I-I don’t want this,” your cries were left unheard while he was ramming your cunt. “Don’t make any sound remember that they’re sleeping and you don't want them to wake up,” he reminded you that the kids we tucked in their beds asleep while he is sexually assaulting you. “FUCK…baby I didn’t know what I was missing… shit, your pussy feels even better than Ochako…fuck” he moaned out. That night you saw him for what he is, he wasn’t a hero at all he was a very selfish, insane villain.

Then morning silently crept in and the sun came shining through the window and tears still streamed down your eyes. You attempted to move but, Keigo held you tightly, causing you to wriggle your way out of bed. “Where are you going, my love?” Keigo said in his sleepy voice. “I have to use the bathroom please let me go,” you whispered. He released his hold so you could get out of bed. You silently crept to the bathroom so as to not wake him up but you paused the moment he spoke. “I’m awake babe, if you think you could just try to sneak off you got another thing coming…besides, I gave you wanted to try new things,” he explained. “But, but…you forced me last night,” you whispered with disgust. “FUCK! what do you fucking want from me!” Keigo yelled out causing the kids to stir in their beds. “Shit y/n they are waking up,” he hissed at you while getting out of bed. “What do I have to do in order to restore order in this fucken house?!” he hissed once more. You came to a realization that you would probably have to stay until he tires of you. That if Ochako wants a relationship with him and if so, then maybe just maybe he will release you from this marriage.

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29, 1992 I am watching A Current Affair and next is Hard Copy. Then at 8:00, I’ll record Unsolved Mysteries while I watch a movie called They Live. I’ll be pissed if Unsolved Mysteries is a repeat, but I know it will be. I swear they only make 10-15 shows of each series these days, then keep repeating them. So far, America’s Most Wanted, Top Cops, Cops and Rescue 911 have been good. They’ve occasionally aired stories I’ve seen on Unsolved Mysteries. I miss Reasonable Doubts and it’s a bummer they canceled it. If I could bring back 3 shows besides that, they’d be Twin Peaks with Sheryl Lee as a blond and not with that tacky black wig. Also, Charlie’s Angels and the Bionic Woman.

Monday evening while I was watching a movie, Ann Marie left a message on my machine. She said she got a second job at another grocery store doing the same thing she does at the other store. Meat wrapping. She said she’d like to come see me but is too busy. She’d call me Tuesday on her day off. Well, she never did. I have no idea what’s going on in her life but perhaps I should be careful and just wait. Like I said, if Ann Marie never returned after our first encounter all would be well. But I’d really like to hang onto her and get together once or twice a month. Or every other month. It’ll take another 5-10 years to find another feminine girl who’s attractive and as nice. Plus, she is a good person who thinks a lot like me and I’d never have reason to feel threatened by her. With her wanting anything serious, I mean. Not even if we were neighbors. She’s far from a Brenda S character.

Perhaps if I don’t see her by July or so, I’ll put out a personal ad.

I haven’t seen Jessie. She’s no doubt very busy with all that’s been going on. I really doubt she wants to ever see me here. To talk on the phone, yes, but I haven’t seen her in over a year. Seems to me if you really miss your friend and want to see them, you’ll do something about it. Current Location: Connecticut

SATURDAY, APRIL 25, 1992 Soon I’m going to bed, so I’ll quickly fill in on other stuff so I’m all caught up. Laurie did return my money as I knew she would. I got Fran’s new phone number. I’ve written several letters and looked at a 4-room apartment today. What is it with the bathrooms in this city? You can’t get both a tub and a shower. It’s either one or the other. It was in an old 3-story house. The living room and one of the bedroom’s huge so it compensates well. In the bathroom, there’s only a toilet and a shower stall which means I’d have to brush my teeth in the kitchen sink. This guy also owns a Laundromat and says he has a nicer and bigger place over the Laundromat but he can’t show it to me till May 11th. This one only has a tub. I’ll wait to see it as well as check out other places. The area was definitely quieter. Both places are $400 with no utilities included.

Later…

I came over to Tammy’s at 3:00 this afternoon. I did two loads of laundry. Tammy and Bill are now at a party. I showed Tammy this makeup kit I got through the mail under a bogus name. She did her hair and her makeup, and when Bill came in he gave me a kiss and took a shower.

Bill had a look in his eyes as if to say, “I love you. Let’s not fight,” which was cool.

Tammy made the girls and me fried chicken and French fries. After they left, the girls and I had a water gun fight and we cleaned their rooms. We had ice cream too, and now we’re watching TV.

FRIDAY, APRIL 24, 1992 Several things have happened since I last wrote and one of them wasn’t so funny. I’ll update all the little stuff first. Laurie’s definitely straight and hung up on her boyfriend.

Lyle moved and stood me up tonight and two nights ago about taking me to practice and a gig. Last Monday night, Lyle and his kids and I went to one other band member’s house. The bass player. I also met the drummer and the other guitarist. They were all nice and the rehearsal went well. I was ticked off about being stood up with Wednesday’s rehearsals. I gave up going to the Sheridan that night to end up doing nothing. That night at the Sheridan there was supposed to be the same modeling and search seminar that Kim and I were going to go to in Springfield till her car got rammed. It ain’t meant to be. Now I know that for sure. Plus, a business like that is a sure way to meet all kinds of rapists and perverts. Even more so than music.

Next time I speak to Rick, I’m gonna demand some facts. Will he transport me instead of Lyle? Is he serious? Does he really want me in his band? Did he speak to Mitch from the country & western band? In plain simple English, I wanna know what’s going on. Over and over he complimented me on my singing, guitar playing and even the keyboards. So what’s wrong? I’ve never stood them up or said or done anything I shouldn’t have. Why do they always back out? Is this my compensation for being hired twice in only 5 auditions total? When will I ever get someone who’s serious?

I just saw a show with people like me who have premonitions, visions and have made predictions. But if it’s so meant to be, as I’ve always felt, when is serious shit gonna start happening? I’m reluctant to mention this to Tammy and Bill cuz they’re only gonna twist shit around or pin the blame on me. They put words in my mouth while they insist they’re not calling me a liar. A major example is last Easter Sunday. On Easter, Bill’s sister and niece were over for a big dinner. That was the day I woke up at 10 AM with a bad attack after only 4 hours of sleep. The previous 4 or 5 days I’d only slept a few hours also. I was unable to sleep at night and was always being woken up by next door. And believe it or not, I was in the living room asleep with the earplug in. I knew I couldn’t control the attack and called 911.

Barbara came over and I rambled on about how hard the complications were to deal with at times. She told the EMTs we’re on two different schedules. Suddenly I became worried about how to get back home. I knew there were no buses and that Tammy was tied up. Tammy has had and is having her share of physical and mental anguish. I did not want her or anyone else to know my business and there was nothing she could do. Especially when Barbara came out and said she’d bring me home. I had no idea after they took me away and she locked up that she was gonna call Tammy, but she did.

After I was treated and released, there was a message that Tammy had called the hospital and for me to call her. Although she encourages me saying that if anyone could work things out it was me, she’s siding with Barbara, saying I let myself get stressed out and I should’ve stayed home. First of all, this situation is no one’s fault, although it has been quieter next door and easier to sleep. I also don’t “let” myself get all stressed out and in this situation, it’s pretty hard to avoid it. Lastly, you know when you can’t control an attack and need oxygen and an updraft. There’s no guessing and assuming you can control it at home. I’ve had enough experience with this to know. The EMTs said the same thing. That was really low of her about the stress, partly after her saying she herself had to go to the ER due to Ma’s shit when Ma was there last summer. Ma’s a bitch, but I’d rather one day with her than to live here and deal with this place on a daily basis. I never once came out and blamed her for bringing on her own stress and saying I don’t feel sorry for her, she asked for it, etc.

She asked me why I call Barbara up and cuss her out which is BS, and Barbara can tell her so like she told me she would.

That’s what pissed me off about Tammy. Now here’s what pissed me off about Bill.

Tammy and Barbara misunderstood each other about who’d be picking me up. Eventually, Bill did and Tammy was upset about that which wasn’t my fault. When Bill picked me up I asked him to stop at a gas station. The drugstores and everything else were closed. I told him I had to get a few things. He said cigarettes were what I wanted and I said yes, that was one of the things. I said loud and clear, cigarettes, candy and pads. He said they don’t sell pads there. I said they did cuz I’d seen them before in there. However, they were out of stock with them so I got some cigarettes and a candy bar. When I got in the van, he said, “Don’t fuck with me. I know you got cigarettes.”

I said, “Yes I did and I told you on the way here that I was getting them.” I also told him he’s not my daddy and I’m not a child and I had no reason to lie or feel intimidated by him or anyone else.

Tammy said Bill said I never left the counter. I didn’t need to as the place is so small. You can see everything from the counter. She said, “No one’s calling you a liar, but my husband wouldn’t lie.”

I said, “You guys are my sister and brother-in-law. Not my parents and your husband IS a liar.”

She hung up on me and called back the next day as if nothing ever happened.

SUNDAY, APRIL 12, 1992 Earlier, I spoke with Laurie. I even lent her $10 which is something I never do, but thanks to my sixth sense, I know she’s good for the money. In return, Laurie did me a big favor. She has a washing machine and she let me do two loads.

Last night I spoke to Lyle over at his place. I played him some edits. He still really wants to move as well as Laurie and I do and he hates some of the people here. They gossip, but that’s life no matter where you live.

I hung my clothes all over the place to dry, and Tammy said I can do any laundry at her place Wednesday. She needs to go to the fire department for a blood drive they’re having, so I’ll be babysitting while she’s gone.

We had a few days of fairly nice weather where it was around 60º. Now we’re having a chilly spell again. I really wish more than ever that it’d warm up. I can’t wait to see Andy and go to the beach.

Tomorrow I should be getting a call from a woman named Laurie about an apartment. She’s currently trying to evict the guy living there now due to him not paying rent.

Gee, all the Lauries I’ve been meeting lately!

I went to the state welfare people and I’ll be going back soon for a photo ID for food stamps. They’re only $15 here, but if I get this apartment they’ll go up as the rent’s $425. I will also get the cash assistance I can’t get here. I wanna hurry up and beat the summer as far as moving. It’s a war zone outside in the freezing cold winter until 7 PM, so one can only imagine the summertime when the kids are out of school. Also, cuz of next door’s noise. These walls are so thin that we may as well all live in the same apartment. I hate this apartment with a passion!

Later…

I just got off the phone with Kim who sounds like she’s in a great mood. We went on and on with our lines and stuff like that. She says she’ll write another letter as well as come see me. She said she thought about just showing up here and surprising me. Soon her orientation will be over, so she’s gonna come see me then. Maybe within a month. I wasn’t about to say hello to Mark as he’s at work, but we had a good talk anyway. I really do miss Kim and I sure as hell miss my apartment.

I have tons of letters to write but I’m not gonna start them tonight.

Andy had called Laurie H for 5 minutes about a bogus 963 form. A scene of an accident, supposedly. I wanted to get her taped to be edited. I played Kim part of that. I edited Laurie but I have much more to do as far as other stuff. I edited the CP lady from a few recent calls with her and Fran.

I guess I have rehearsals tomorrow night at Rick’s house. Lyle will have to let me know.

I hope that girl Laurie calls with some good news on the apartment. I have no good vibe but I also have no bad vibe. I must begin getting boxes and prepare myself for if I have to move fast in order to get a place they can only hold for so long.

Not much else has been happening. Last Friday, Tammy, Becky and Sarah were here. Only for a few seconds as Tammy needed to go shopping. She took me and my guitar with her and I played it with the girls while she was in the store.

As for Laurie, I highly doubt anything will happen. Sexually, I mean. I think she’s straight.

I never heard from Ann Marie, but I left her a message on her machine a little while ago.

Why do the people next door need to bang so much? Even at this hour with their kids asleep, 30 seconds don’t pass without a slam, bang or chairs and tables sliding.

I have two shrubs right outside my front door and having 20 kids in them screaming at the top of their lungs was no joy ride. I told them they can play all they want, but not directly under my windows and on my doorstep. With the way they’re always playing and throwing balls, I’m amazed they haven’t smashed a window yet. Not just mine, but anybody’s.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 8, 1992 I tried to sleep but as usual, I can’t. I feel really shitty and can’t wait to see a doctor as much as I hate seeing them and antibiotics. I also need to do a hell of a cleaning job in here.

Damn! Do I need to quit smoking or what? I guess at this point if being able to breathe means always dying for a cigarette and gaining 20-30 pounds then that’s what I’ll need to do.

If Andy doesn’t call by 1:15 then I’m gonna go to bed and I’ll just lay there even if I can’t sleep.

Last night I had a nice talk with Jessie. She called and we spoke for over an hour. She’s very upset with her father and several other people in her family. Her grandfather also died and she fears her grandmother may go any minute too, due to having cancer and other problems.

God, do I ever feel like shit now. My chest is so tight and I’m so tired. I definitely cannot sleep well here. Who could? In MA my schedule was weirder but at least I slept. I seldom lacked sleep like this. The more you lack, the harder it is to catch up. Sounds funny, but it is true.

I hope Lyle has no problem with bringing me to the ER tomorrow. He said he would and he seems pretty reliable. He said he’d knock on my door. Believe it or not, I do have some good news as I mentioned before. Practice was canceled last Monday night as there was a problem with other band members. What, I don’t know. It worked out for the better as Rick was over here that evening. Even he said he was glad it turned out that way as he had no idea about my guitar and keyboard playing. The sooner the better he said so he could alter the sets, songs and work these things in. Since there are 4 of us in the band, he may have me play either guitar or keyboards every now and then as we may have to drop to only 3 of us at times. One of the guys in the band can’t always get out of work, so that’s when I’d fill in. He was so impressed with my guitar and keyboard playing that I was a little shocked. He said, “You’re way beyond basic chords only and you made it sound like you knew very little.” He really really was like, wow! I told him that was flattering and he said, “It’s not flattering. It’s telling it like it is.” So that’s cool and I spoke to dad on his birthday and I’ll write a letter with more details when things get going. Rick said that now that he’s heard me play, he’s gonna change stuff around but that it was worth it.

As far as Laurie goes, I highly doubt she’s ever into women. If so, not me as she’s made no real attempts to talk to me much. Then again, she no doubt assumes I’m straight and doesn’t know me from a can of paint as Tracy used to say. Usually, if you know someone’s gay or not and you like them, you at least try to talk to them, get to know them and find out what you can. This doesn’t change the fact that she’s attractive but I feel she may be one of those who tries to mold a person into what she’d like them to be.

Well, Andy’s late on calling me as he usually is so I’m gonna go to sleep.

Later…

Yes, of course, I’m still up. I took an extra half Theo pill so I do feel better. Less tight. I knew Andy wouldn’t call. Think I’ll go listen to music now.

Later…

I am outside sitting on my back steps as I write this. It’s a beautiful day. More summery rather than spring. After winter there’s hardly any spring before it goes right into summer. Shadow’s taking a nap in a pile of leaves. Jenny, Layne and her sister Jessica are playing jump rope. One of Barb’s sons and his friend are now joining in the game along with playing with their basketball.

I chatted with Barb and Dave and Dave’s gonna look around for a used washer for me. I hope I move soon, though. Barb and Dave and their kids know I like them and I know they like me, but living in a building like this sucks.

On my way back from paying the rent, earlier, I ended up speaking to some guys who asked about the band. They’re friends of Lyle’s.

Also, a black woman (I think her name’s Ronda) and I chatted for a while. I met her son who also knows Lyle and Barbara.

Right after I last wrote and began listening to music, Andy did call. He wanted to wait till after 11:00 his time for the cheaper rates now that he’s 3 hours behind again.

I feel better today but I’m still pretty gunked up with congestion. I’m not sure if I’m going to the ER later. We’ll see what’s up with Lyle. I dusted and vacuumed today, had all the windows open so that should help. Cuz this place is on the ground and is so small, just opening my back and front doors airs the place out well.

I got another letter from Bob which is typical Bob. The man is only happy like twice a year. Both his childhood and his adult life are a million times worse than mine. Knowing how mine was tells me something…that his sucked.

Later…

I am now on the phone with Andy and Fran. They’ve spoken to the CC and with Melissa who was boring, though. Andy’s doing his cactus and palm tree problem. I’m his crazy little sister and Fran’s the crazy visitor from next door. They just hung up but Fran called both me and Andy and we were on the phone for an hour and a half.

I went to the ER and was amazed at how quickly I was in and out of there. Lyle took me, along with his son and daughter Naomi and Kevin. Lyle’s sister had a baby girl so he had wanted to see her, but it was too late. Lyle’s gonna go see her tomorrow when he gets home from work and I’ll be babysitting for the kids. At the ER I got Theo and Amoxicillin. I also got those Lactaid tablets which do help.

Tomorrow I have my appointment at the state welfare office.

I sure hope I get some sleep even if it is only a few hours as I got up at 1:00.

I went over to Barb and Dave’s today telling them they were gonna die laughing at my request, but they know it’ll work. I told them how most of the time I set my alarm, yet even wearing no earplugs I never can wake up to it, so can they wake me up? Therefore, before she leaves for work, she’s gonna bang on my bedroom wall which is her living room wall. Funny, huh?

I have more tapes to edit. I have tons and tons of editing to do.

Lyle says he may be getting a 3-bedroom house on a farm within a week. Either way, he says he’s moving whether or not he gets the house. I said I’d join him in apartment hunting as I’ve got to get the hell out too. The people I’ve met are nice but there’s so much I hate dealing with here. The walls are too thin. The outside is a zoo till 9 PM. This summer it will be a zoo from 8 AM-midnight once school’s out and the weather’s warm. Also, this apartment sucks. It’s way too small and I sure do miss showers as much as I also enjoy baths. I hope that by the time I’ve finished the next journal I’m out of this dive. Hopefully way before, but who really knows? I’ve got to start picking up newspapers and looking for a place that’s no more than $500 a month. Hopefully, a place on a bus line in a decent size place even if it’s not as big as the Woodside Terrace apartment. A fairly quiet place, too. It’s dead quiet here at night compared to Locust St., but the noise in the daytime more than makes up for it.

TUESDAY, APRIL 7, 1992 Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better. They sure started off shitty, though. After barely 3 hours of sleep and wearing my earplug, they fucking woke me up next door.

I called the state supplement people about moving into a private apartment here. Cuz my rent’s already subsidized, I won’t qualify for a cash supplement. I will get food stamps and medical, though. If I got a $400 apartment they’d give me a check for $200 on top of my $442 from SS and SSI. If I got a $500 place, I’d get a check for $300 besides my $442. Also, more food stamps. I was told I can begin looking for an apartment ASAP. Lyle will help along with others he knows. Dave says he can get a truck and will save boxes for me. I’ve got much more to write about as far as Rick and the band and also Jessie, but I want to see Geraldo first.

Andy is to be calling around 1:00 my time. Maybe around midnight. I’m so tired, though, and don’t know if I can stay awake. That’s lucky for me, though, as I really must catch up on my sleep. Plus, I need to be up early to go to the state disability and welfare office Thursday morning. I feel pretty shitty due to the drastic temperature changes. It’s gonna be warming up but that’s ok with me. As you know, 2-3 times a year I need antibiotics when my congestion builds up. It’s been not too cool for a while now and it’s probably infectious by now or well on its way. Tomorrow Lyle said he’d take me to the ER. That’s the only place I can go till I get my cards. Barbara took me to a walk-in clinic but they wouldn’t see me saying they have no federal funding. I at least got my meds refilled.

MONDAY, APRIL 6, 1992 Boy, do I have lots to write about! And good stuff, too! I got in a band!!!!!! So soon too, since I’ve only been here barely two months is amazing. Shockingly it was my first audition.

Early last Friday night, my sister gave me the best lecture ever telling me not to give up. Don’t back out. Gloria never backed out. Follow your dreams, conquer your fears and go out with Lyle to the bar and go for it. So Lyle, who’s not in the band, took me to a bar in Ledyard to meet his friend Rick. Rick’s the leader of the band and has been friends with Lyle for years. Lyle’s job is to help with the equipment and the sound system. It was a small bar, not sleazy and no one bothered me.

This isn’t the band Rick’s normally in and which I’d be in, hopefully. He was filling in for someone who was sick, I guess and was friends with the drummer, Carl. This particular band (I don’t know the name of it) was a country band. The one I’ll be in is geared more toward soft rock. A mix of various types of music but no hard rock or heavy metal. Thank God. Everything happened so fast that night. I was completely blown out of my mind and shocked. Too shocked to feel nervous or much of anything but I had a great time and was glad I went. As the story unfolds, you’ll see why all I kept saying to myself was - oh my God. I sat with Lyle as he operated the sound and controlled the equalizers and all that. He put headphones on me so I could hear what the people on stage could hear. It is very different from being in front of the amps. It was loud but I could bear it and I got used to it. I also handled requests. People would write the songs down they wanted to hear on a napkin, or whatever and I’d hand it to Rick and some other guy (I forgot his name) in between songs.

There were 4 people. Carl on drums and Rick, another guy, and an obvious lesbian named Wendy on guitars. They all took turns singing songs except for Carl. Rick was good and so was the guy whose name I forgot. He was an older guy with slacks, a dress shirt, and suit jacket. He sort of looked like a businessman. Wendy was having some sort of trouble with her voice but her base playing was fine. She was either timid or tired. Her voice was very soft and she kept going flat. Also, an older lady would get up on stage and sing every now and then. She was good. So, due to Rick being busy with the band, I figured we’d never have time to even talk much. However, I did end up singing. During intermission as they have 4 sets, I sang in the back corner of the stage. Some Linda Ronstadt songs. They turn the jukebox on during their breaks and he told me he was amazed at how I could sing a song on key while the jukebox played a totally different song. Then, he looked at me and said, “You have a hell of a voice. You’re in. I’ll talk to the other guys in the band.”

I couldn’t believe it! I was psyched! The name of the band is Power Glide and I have rehearsals at Rick’s house tomorrow night at 7:00. Of course, I’ll be going with Lyle.

I told Tammy, Mom and Dad, whose birthday was Sunday. He’s 61. I told Mom and Dad I’d write all the details in a letter to them.

How often and where I’ll sing, I don’t know yet. Or even about the money, but who cares? What really matters is I’m in the band!

Before I forget, Wendy, who did seem nice, asked for my number cuz she knows an all-female band. That’s nice. I’ve always thought about an all-female band. Maybe I’ll rotate from band to band like Rick does.

I called and told Andy, Bob, and Kim and left a message on Cassandra’s machine. Jessie called me last night and I spoke to her for an hour or so. I’ll have to call Ann Marie if I don’t hear from her soon. She said she’d call me about coming to see me on Tuesday.

It’s funny how it all started, and Laurie, who I met at Price Rite agreed. She said, “It’s neat how you tapped me on the shoulder and I knew a guy who knew a guy in a band.”

And all cuz Laurie was pretty. That’s why I first began chatting with her. If she wasn’t so pretty, I’d have never found out about all this. I wonder if she’s bi or has ever been with a woman or thought about it. Once I get to know her, Lyle and Rick, the subject will eventually come up. They all do seem quite open-minded and as if they have all types of friends. Just in case Laurie’s completely straight and so she doesn’t feel threatened, I’ll let her get to know me first. Plus, I like wondering and guessing. The chase is always more fun than the capture, but I sure would love to capture her for one night. I doubt I will, but who knows? My “feelings” tell me there’s a possibility. Also, due to certain things she’s said and certain ways she’s looked at me, it makes me wonder. I learned from Maliheh, though, not to assume and jump the gun.

Later…

Last Thursday night Fran and I were on the phone for 2 hours and 15 minutes. He called me, of course. Melissa, the CP lady was a great source of entertainment for a while. Therefore, I have more edits to make of her as I taped the entire conversation. Andy and I spoke on his night off and he spoke with Laurie H for a few minutes. All about how to fill out an accident form. She’s been edited.

That’s all the news I have for now. Tomorrow, I must go pay the rent which is now a flat $100. Also, to get refills on my Theo and Alupent.

They’re coming to spray here tomorrow and UPS should be delivering my microwave from mom and dad. With lots of popcorn, dad told me.

I hope I can get a fairly decent amount of sleep as I slept till 2:00 today. Really 3:00 as the clocks went up an hour. Now Andy’s 3 hours behind instead of 2. Their clocks stay the same all the time.

[timeoverload]

I have spent a lot of my weekend sleeping but I keep having horribly vivid nightmares. I woke up at 5 because I had another one.

I've had to cut down on smoking a lot (against my will) since the person that was helping me with that is strung out on coke now or something and I don't feel safe going over there anymore. They have changed a lot and I can't trust someone in that state, especially when they have weapons laying around. I don't want to be around that stuff and I'm not going to put myself in a potentially dangerous position just for that. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now but I will probably have to stop entirely since I don't really talk to anyone anymore. I'm pissed that I can't just go to the store and get it myself and I wish it was legal here. It's so much better than drinking all the time and I haven't really wanted to do that either. I don't handle hangovers very well anymore. It's probably good for me to take a bit of a break but I hate it and I'm grumpy. I think that has contributed to me having more nightmares and definitely isn't helping with my pain, appetite, or my mood. I thought I would be more motivated without it too but now it's worse.

I decided to get up and force myself to go to the grocery store this morning since I couldn't fall back asleep. I bought way more stuff than I normally do so hopefully I can get myself to eat more. I like going to the store really early when there aren't very many people there so I don't get overstimulated and feel like I need to rush out of there. I don't feel like I did that much but I'm worn out again. I also feel like I have a migraine coming on. I need to force myself to get more stuff done today and tomorrow. It feels like any time I make any progress, I have to start over again. I'm tired of it being that way.

I greatly appreciate my family letting me live here for free because I would probably be homeless otherwise but I really wish I had a little more room. I really like my bedroom but with all of the stuff in here it feels small and overwhelming. I really miss having my own bathroom and my washer and dryer. It is nice not having to pay rent since I was spending almost $1000 a month on that since I usually ended up having to cover most of it. I like being able to save some money and also buy myself the things I always wanted when I wasn't allowed to spend money on myself without getting in trouble. I've made quite a bit of progress with paying off my debt too.

I guess I've still been feeling a little bitter though because the person who ruined my life has gotten to live comfortably in a brand new place since I left and I have had to struggle to do everything. I'm still angry with his family for treating me like I'm a bad person and spoiling him when they witnessed how he treated me and they were fine with it but I don't think they ever liked me or understood me anyway. They could tell I was traumatized and I wanted to tell them that he hurt me but I couldn't trust them. I also couldn't sleep at night without worrying that he would do something to me while I was unconscious. He was a creep and lacked self-control. He didn't get my permission. He didn't have respect for my bodily autonomy. I remember him insulting my appearance and then later trying to say he was just joking. Apparently no one ever taught him that it's not ok to hit a woman either until I came along. I remember him responding to my panic attacks by trying to wrestle me and pin me down and I had bruises on my arms from trying to get away from him. Sadly that's not the worst thing he did to me. There is a lot of mental illness and violence in his family too. It got to the point where I had to start fighting back and I'm not that kind of person. I didn't like how he and his dad started buying lots of guns and it made me uncomfortable to know there was one in the closet when we lived in the apartment. I don't miss getting screamed at on a regular basis either and getting in trouble for doing anything. Mental illness isn't an excuse in my opinion and he refused to get on medication until after I broke up with him and tried to use that as leverage to get back together but obviously I said no. He also wrote me a 40 page love letter and forced me to sit on the couch while he read it to me after we broke up even after I begged him to stop and was crying. He also went and got tattoos on his arms that matched the color and theme of the ones I have after we broke up because he wanted to match and I thought that was weird. He was just being obsessive and wouldn't leave me alone for a while even when I would ignore him. His mom always hated me too because I "took her son away from her" when he was the one who pursued me initially and wouldn't back off until I decided to date him. It still grosses me out that his dad also tried to sexually harass me on multiple occasions when he was trashed and I was still expected to be around him despite my complaints. I want to warn his current girlfriend about him because I don't want to see anyone else get hurt but it isn't my place to do so. I'm happy he moved on. I don't miss him and I don't care that he's with someone else but I just hope he treats her better than he treated me. I know I wasn't the perfect girlfriend but I spoiled him and did everything he asked me to do and it still wasn't enough. I let him manipulate and control me for so long and I had to relearn how to make decisions for myself. I'm so happy I never have to see those people again. I would never go back. I can't say they never did anything for me but they definitely didn't treat me with respect a lot of the time. I'm really surprised that our last conversation was amicable considering what a nightmare it was trying to get out of there. Lately I have been thinking about all of the bad things that happened to me during the time I spent with him and I know I made the right decision to leave. I don't think he ever truly loved me because that's not how you treat someone you love. I'm so thankful we never had any children together despite him pressuring me to do so. I couldn't imagine trying to raise a child in that environment. It wasn't healthy at all. I spent so long questioning my reality and wondering if I was as evil as he said I was. Unfortunately those memories have been resurfacing in my nightmares and I feel like I need to talk about it because it has been bothering me. I definitely have PTSD from that situation. I'm glad that I feel safe here with my family because I never want to experience that again.

I know I will always have a home here. I know my dad has tried really hard to be patient with me and make me happy and I'm not sure where I would be without him right now. He stepped up and took care of us when my mom couldn't do it anymore while trying to work full time and take care of the house. I know that being a single parent isn't easy. He has a lot of responsibilities and things to worry about and I don't want him to be super stressed out all the time. He doesn't show it but I know he is. I'm thankful that he has helped me take care of the cats too because it has been difficult for me to do anything. I wish I could do more for him and help him more and maybe I will be in a place soon where I am able to do that because he deserves it. He hasn't had an easy life and has worked really hard and I think he needs to take a vacation soon. I definitely feel like I owe him a lot for helping me get my life back.

I just can't wait to get out of this slump because I don't think I have ever been this bad. I know I'm capable and I'm not giving up on myself. I think I am also getting stir crazy because I have been cooped up in here for a long time now. The weather has been really nice lately and I want to go outside more because my vitamin D is extremely low but I don't really like going for walks by myself because of past experiences. I really hope I can get out and do something fun this summer because I really need it. I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day and try to stop thinking about bad stuff so much.

[hollandsangel]

What about date nights with Tom after having a baby and fans noticing they’re on a certain day because they’re Friday nights or something and people finding it so cute 🥹

im not sure if i executed this the way you wanted, but it was such a sweet concept! hope you enjoy lovie

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

date nights had gotten few and far between after you’d given birth. you and tom had gotten used to late night pizza at the dimly kitchen counter, grocery store flowers in a vase next you. it never bothered you, honestly, you loved getting to spend time with him, and the look on his face when he holds your little baby in his arms, rocking them to sleep.

and although all of that is nice and sweet and domestic, nothing compares to the feeling of getting ready to go out to dinner with your husband.

tom’s standing in his side of the closet, buttoning up his dress shirt, “y/n, babe, can you help with my cufflinks?” he asks, struggling with the dainty gold, stopping short in front of the bathroom vanity where you stand.

you’ve just finished your hair and makeup and are now applying some lip gloss. tom stops behind you, staring a t your reflection with a lopsided smile, “you look so beautiful,” he mumbles, arms wrapping around your waist as he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

you offer him a sweet smile for his compliment, “the dress is doing better for me than the old t-shirt with baby spit up on it, huh?”

tom chuckles, muffling the sound against your neck, “you look beautiful covered in baby spit up too, darling,” he promises, pecking the side of your throat before pulling away, “can you help me with my cufflinks?”

—

date nights remain consistent for a month, you and tom sitting on the patio of your favourite little restaurant on the outskirts of london, sharing wine and laughs.

the fans start to notice, and they gush over the photos you post on your instagram story, or the ones floating around twitter that are taken by paps.

“you know, i think we’re doing good with this whole ‘parents with a social life thing’” tom chuckles, tilting his glass towards you.

you laugh back softly, forking some of your meal, “only because we have 5 babysitters on hand at all times.”

tom shakes his head, fighting his fork with yours to steal some of your mushrooms, “well, i think my mum wants to sit next, she was going on and on the other day how harry gets to see the baby more than she does,” he laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy.

“i really do think harry is our most frequent sitter,” you agree, smiling at the waitress when she refills your water, “our names were trending on twitter today.”

“really?” your husband asks around a mouthful of veal, “why?”

you shrug, deciding to take something from tom’s plate like he had yours, “i guess we’re the cutest couple in hollywood, new parents that still make time for each other? everyone’s dream.” you’re teasing, but tom can’t stop his love sick smile as he stares at you.

“you’re my dream, love.”

you immediately flush, looking down at your folded napkin to avoid his stare, but you still reach out for his hand, tracing his wedding band.

“you’re mine too.”

[leossmoonn]

One Day at A Time

masterlist

pairing - lip gallagher x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - “Hi, I love your Shameless imagines! And I was wondering if you could write something for Lip Gallagher x Reader having a baby and struggling with their new life ❤️” alright so i named the baby fred bc thats lip’s baby’s name already lol also you and lip live in the house that lip wanted to buy for tammy. enjoy!

summary - you and lip struggle to raise a baby and survive 

warning / includes - language, fighting, alcohol, smoking, but fluffy ending

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Lip!” You shouted. 

Your boyfriend ran into the room frantically. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to get me more baby wipes. Freddy took a big shit,” you instructed. 

Lip nodded, going to the table where you kept the baby wipes. He gave you the whole packet only for you to yell at him.

“Hand me them! I have to hold Freddy down so we doesn’t roll off,” you said.

“Sorry, Jesus,” Lip muttered, handing you baby wipes each time you put your hand out. 

You successfully cleaned your baby’s bottom and but on a new, fresh diaper. You picked Freddy and went downstairs with him. You set Freddy down in his high-chair, going over to the cabinet to get Freddy’s baby food. 

“Are you um, are you going into work today?” Lip asked.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” Lip said. 

You frowned, turning around and putting a hand on your hip. “You can’t. Someone has to watch Freddy.”

“Debbie can watch Freddy,” Lip said. 

You scoffed, “She's never here. And before you say V and Kev, they’ve already helped us enough the past few months. They’re busy with their own kids.”

“Well, I need to go into work. We need the money,” Lip said. 

“Yeah, and I need to go to work or I’m gonna get fired!” You exclaimed. You began feeding Freddy, your mood lightening a little once you saw the little guy’s face. 

“What about working tomorrow? I thought that was our schedule,” Lip asked. 

“It was, but one, I’m well overdue on maternity leave and two, my boss doesn’t care about my personal life. She doesn’t care that we are struggling to raise a child,” you explained. 

Lip opened his mouth to suggest something, but nothing came out. He looked at you helplessly. 

“Here, why don’t you work for a few hours and I’ll watch Freddy in the morning, then you come back home at lunch and I’ll go and work for the afternoon,” you said. 

Lip nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

“Alright, good,” you said. You turned your attention back to the baby, feeding him the rest of his breakfast. Meanwhile, Lip went to shower and get ready to go to work. He came downstairs, coming over to bid you and Freddy goodbye. 

“I’ll see you later. I love you,” Lip said, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

Even though you were mad at him earlier, you melted into his arms immediately. You hugged him back tightly, burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Hm, I love you, too,” you said, breathing in his scent. 

Lip couldn’t help but smile at your actions. He pulled away after a few moments, walking over to Freddy. 

“I love you, too, buddy,” Lip cooed, kissing Freddy on the cheek, making the baby giggle. 

You smiled at the scene, enjoying seeing Lip interact with Freddy. 

“Bye,” Lip called out before leaving. 

“Bye!” You exclaimed, watching him leave. 

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the fridge. You looked at Freddy, who was clapping his hands on his high-chair table. You laughed a little.

“You’re so silly,” you said, going over to him and picking him up. 

“Do you want to go to the store with me?” You talked to Freddy, bouncing him up and down while walking across the room. 

Freddy make a little squeak and you smiled. “Yeah, I know you want go to the store with me. I’m gonna shower and get ready, you stay in the crib, okay? I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” you said, going up to the nursery and setting Freddy down  gently. 

You went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth. You went back in your room and got dressed into a pair of mom jeans, a dark-purple, buttoned-up shirt and put a grey sweater over it, taking the collar of your shirt and folding it on the collar of your sweater. You then returned to Freddy’s room. You saw him on his back, sucking in his thumb. You smiled and picked him up, quietly going down the stairs. You set him in his high-chair again, getting your coat, purse, and your shoes. You also got Freddy’s little coat and hat to keep him warm in the cold winter of Chicago. 

You went out to your car, buckling Freddy into his carseat. You then went to the supermarket, putting Freddy in the front of the cart. You picked out fruit, vegetables, and salad mix. You got 2 gallons of milk, new coffee creamer, and cereal. You bought a few warm-up dinner packs and hamburger meat, going to the freezer isle and getting ice cream. You then went to the snack isle. 

“What should we get, Freddy?” You asked, looking at the pop tarts. 

Freddy pointed to the birthday cake-flavoured pop tarts. 

“Good choice, baby,” you smiled, grabbing the pop tarts. You then grabbed a few packs of chips and gum, going over to check out.

“Cute baby,” the girl at the register said. 

You looked up from putting the groceries on the table. You looked at her name tag and smiled. 

“Thank you, Stacy,” you said. “How old is he?” Stacy asked. 

“Almost 2 months,” you said. 

“Awe, so cute. I just found out I’m pregnant,” Stacy said. 

“Oh, really. Congrats,” you smiled. “Yeah, my boyfriend and I are happy,” Stacy smiled, putting her hand on her stomach. 

She rang your groceries up. “It’ll be $103.98.”

You nodded and took your card out and a few coupons you and Lip had collected in the past month. 

“Alright, with these coupons, your total is $80.56,” Stacey said.

“Great,” you smiled. You paid with your card, gathering the grocery bags. 

“Have a good day!” Stacy smiled. 

“Thank you, you too. Congrats again with the baby,” you gave her a kind smile. 

She thanked you as you walked out. You loaded the groceries into the car and put Freddy back in his carseat. You then drove back home, putting away the groceries while Freddy watched you in his high-chair. 

“Are you tired, baby? I’m tired,” you yawned. Freddy yawned right after you, making you chuckle. 

“Why don’t you take a nap and let Mommy clean the house, okay? It’s a fucking mess,” you muttered the curse words, looking around the house. Clothes and toys were everywhere. Plates were stacked in the sink and on the coffee table. The house needed to be vacuumed and wiped down very badly

You put Freddy down in his crib, turning on the baby monitor. You changed into a tank top and shorts and put your hair in a ponytail, going back downstairs to clean. 

You started with the dishes, washing and drying them off, putting them back in their cupboards. You then wiped down the kitchen counter, stove top, kitchen table, and coffee table. Next you decided to clean up all of the baby stuff that was on the floor. You put Freddy’s toys in the play bins you and Lip had bought and put Freddy’s clothes in the washing machine. You then vacuumed the living room carpet and swept the kitchen tiles, making yourself another cup of coffee. You were done in an hour and a half, taking a look at your work, smiling in satisfaction. Your house hadn’t been this clean since you and Lip had bought it. 

It was lunch time and you knew Lip would be coming home soon. You decided to make you and him lunch. You made chilli and salad, knowing that it would last you two for a few days. You changed back into your work uniform before grabbing yourself a bowl and sitting down, eating your lunch quickly before you had to go to work. 

15 minutes later, Lip had walked through the door. You got up to greet him. 

“Hey, babe. This smells good, what did you make?” Lip asked.  “Chilli and salad for lunch. You can have some,” you said. 

“Ah, nice,” Lip said. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, going over to the kitchen.  You frowned. He usually wasn’t this detached.

“How was work?” You asked. 

“Good,” Lip said, grabbing himself a bowl of chilli. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you said. “ I um… I cleaned the house and got groceries.”

“Oh, nice,” Lip said, sitting down. 

"Are you okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” Lip said. 

“Um, okay,” you said. “Well, Freddy is upstairs taking a nap. He’s been asleep for about two hours, so he will probably wake up soon. The baby monitor is here. When he wakes up can you give him a bath? He’s a little stinky.”

“Sure,” Lip nodded. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so off. 

“I gotta go to work. I'll see you later, okay?” You said. 

“Okay. Have fun,” Lip said.

You slammed the front door shut and walked to your car, letting out a long sigh. You wanted to ask why Lip was acting so distant, but you knew you had to go to work. You worked as a waitress at a local diner. You had been working there for the past 3 years. You hoped to be moving jobs to what you really wanted to do, which was cosmetics, but having a baby set you back a little. You were so thankful for Freddy, though, you didn’t regret having him one bit. It just sucked a lot. But you were good at your job. you were friendly to customers and co-workers, got the most tips, and never played around. You were your boss’s best waitress, despite you always having to change your shifts. 

You worked from 1 pm to 9, going back home tired, but happy you at least got a shift in. You drove home, looking forward to seeing Lip and Freddy, but once you got in the door, your excitement immediately diminished. 

Freddy was in his play pen and the person who was watching him wasn’t Lip. It was Carl. 

“Um, hey, Carl,” you frowned, setting your coat in the closet. 

Carl turned to you, a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, Y/n. How’re you?”

“Good, thanks. Where is Lip?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips. 

“He went out,” Carl answered. 

“To where?” You asked, your temper rising. “Um…. to the Alibi,” Carl said nervously. 

Your eyes blew wide. “What?! He went to the Alibi and left you to take care of our baby? No offense, Carl.”

“None taken,” Carl shrugged. 

“I…” you started to say. You put your fingers on your temples, rubbing in circles to try and ease the headache you were beginning to have. You were able to calm down a little. 

“Thank you for taking care of Freddy,” you said to Carl. 

“No problem. I love the little guy,” Carl smiled. 

You smiled back, grabbing your purse. “Here, let me pay you for watching him.”

“I would usually say yes to money, but I’ll say no this time. I like spending time with Freddy, he's my nephew, I like watching him,” Carl shrugged.

“Are you sure?” You asked, holding a 20 dollar bill. 

“Yeah, I am,” Carl smiled kindly. 

“Alright. Thank you. I’m going to find Lip. Do you mind staying until I come back?” You asked. 

“Nope. Can I have some of the chilli?” Carl asked. 

“Yeah, of course. Do you know how to change diapers and feed Freddy?” You asked. 

“Yeah, of course. I took care of Liam and Franny for Debbie sometimes,” Carl said. 

“Right, of course,” you chuckled. “Thanks, again. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Carl waved. 

You didn’t bother grabbing your coat, rushing out of the house to find Lip. You drove to the Alibi, parking haphazardly. You went in, anger surging through you as you saw Lip smoking and drinking his liver and lungs out. He was talking with Kermit and Tommy. 

“Lip!” You screamed, the whole room turning going quiet. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Kev smiled. 

“Hey, Kev. Can I see Lip for a second?” You asked, clenching your jaw. 

Lip looked at you, his eyes dropping. “Hey, baby.” He walked up to you, a stoned smile on his face. 

You grabbed his hand, yanking him out to the alley behind the Alibi. 

“What's up?” Lip asked.

“You! That’s what’s up!” You exclaimed. 

“What do you mean?” Lip asked. 

“You fucking left Freddy alone!” You shouted. “I left him with Carl. He’s fine,” Lip shrugged. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t call me to say you were going to leave Freddy!” 

Lip glared at you. “I don’t need to call you. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too! I’m his mother. I need to know who he is with! What if Carl brought over Kelly and they started having sex on the couch where Freddy could see, huh? I don’t fucking want that!” 

Lip chuckled. “They wouldn’t do that. Carl and Kelly are broken up or whatever.”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! I’m tired and super stressed out. You could have let me know!” 

“I’m tired and stressed out, too!” Lip exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you are. Getting fucking drunk and stoned,” you laughed sourly. 

“I’m not drunk, I had 2 sips of beer, and I worked!” Lip exclaimed. 

“Yeah? Well I worked, too! I worked until 9 at night. I should be home by then! And I was the one who cleaned the house and did the dishes and got the groceries, which by the way, you are fucking welcome!” You shouted. 

“I never asked you to do that,” Lip said. 

“i know, but I did it because we needed it. All I wanted was a thank you!” “Well I was tired and hungry when I got home,” Lip shrugged. 

You glared at him, tears clouding your vision. “You’re so full of shit, Lip. So full of fucking shit!” You screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled backwards and hit the brick wall gently. 

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Lip yelled. 

“Don’t do that! You don’t have the right to question me!” You screamed back. 

Lip opened his mouth to yell back, but Veronica and Kevin came out. 

“Hey, you two stop it!” Veronica yelled. 

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Kevin asked. 

“She is yelling at me!” Lip pointed to you. 

“Yeah, cause you’re a fucking asshole!” You screamed, your voice hoarse and tears running down your face. 

“Oh, no,” Veronica muttered. She went over to you, wrapping her arms around you gently. “Let’s go inside and get you some tea, okay?”

You started to sob, leaning in to Veronica. Lip looked at you, his heart breaking at the sight of you so upset.  

“Kev, you take Lip home and get him cleaned up, okay? Make sure Freddy is fed and changed and put to bed, too,” Veronica instructed. 

Kevin nodded, putting his arm around Lip and went to Lip’s car. Veronica walked you inside, taking you to the back of the bar. She got you a beer and a hot cup of tea, placing them in front of you. 

“T-Thanks,” you sniffled. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Veronica said, sitting down next to you. 

“Lip left Freddy home alone with Carl. I’ve been so busy and tired today. I cleaned the whole house, got the groceries. I worked for fucking 8 hours. I just wanted a little ‘thank you’ from Lip. That’s all I wanted,” you cried. “God, I’m such a fucking crybaby.”

Veronica put her hand on your arm comfortingly. “No, honey, you’re not. I understand, don’t worry, and Lip should, too. Maybe you should calm down a little and then go back home and talk to him. Really talk, no shouting and pushing.”

You took a big sip of your beer and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Veronica smiled. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. 

“You sure? We have some chocolate chip cookies,” Veronica smiled. 

“Hm, okay. I'll have a few,” you smiled. 

“Great!” Veronica squealed. She went away for a few moments, coming back with a container full of cookies. 

You sat and talked with Veronica for two hours. You soon were about to pass out and decided to drive you and Veronica home since Kevin had taken their car. 

“Thanks for the fun night, V,” you smiled at Veronica as you dropped her back to her house. 

“No problem! Drive home safe! Call if you need anything,” Veronica said. 

“Will do,” you said and drove back home, which was thankfully only 5 minutes away. 

You got home, going in and seeing the living room empty. You took off your shoes, groaning in relief as your heels had been aching the whole day. You trudged up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard the shower going but didn’t bother to go and see Lip. 

You changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You put your hair in a messy bun, flinging yourself on your bed. 

Lip came into the room with Freddy a few moments later. You noticed his presence.

“What?” You snapped. 

“I just… do you want Freddy and I to lay down with you?” Lip asked. 

You looked to them, seeing Freddy smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. “Sure.”

You scooted over, Lip setting Freddy down next to you and climbing into bed with you. You gave Freddy a big kiss. 

“Hi, baby. I’ve missed you,” you cooed. 

Freddy chortled, clapping his hands. You giggled with the baby, ignoring Lip until he spoke. 

“So uh… how was your day?” Lip asked nervously. 

“Fine. How was yours?” You asked, not looking at him. 

“Mine was uh… good,” Lip said. 

“Good,” you said shortly. 

There was an awkward silence between you two before Lip spoke again. 

“I wanted to apologise for my actions today,” Lip started to say. 

This was the first time you felt like looking at him. You stared in his blue eyes, waiting for his apology. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring the work you did around the house and I’m sorry for not letting you know I was having Carl take care of Freddy. And I’m sorry for going to the Alibi and getting stoned. I really appreciate you cleaning the house. It really needed to be cleaned and to keep it clean, I promise to try and not leave dishes out and pick up Freddy’s toys,” Lip said. 

You smiled at his apology, scooting up on the bed so you could put your forehead on his without crushing Freddy. 

“Thank you. And the house being messy isn’t totally your fault. I need to learn to clean up after myself more, too,” you said. 

Lip chuckled, “That’s something we can both work on then.”

“Totally,” you smiled. 

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you at the Alibi. I’ve just been so stressed with work and Freddy. I’ve never had to take care of a baby that was my own before. I’ve always had help from Fiona and Ian,” Lip said. 

You put your hand on his cheek. “I know, baby. This is all new for me, too. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, too, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright. I kinda did,” Lip chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile “Well anyways, we’ll get through this together, okay? I love you. So, so, so much. And I love Freddy, probably a little too much,” you joked. “Let’s just take this one day at a time okay?”

Lip nodded and pressed his lips against yours softly. You kissed him back before pulling away, making sure Freddy was okay. 

Lip smiled. “I love you, too, you know.”

You looked back up to Lip with a big smile. “Yeah, I know.”

————

Like and Reblog !

taglist form

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

-----------

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[morganaspendragonss]

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

or

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

*

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

*

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

*

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

*

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

*

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

*

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

*

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

*

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

*

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

*

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

*

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

[creativeashproductions]

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank​’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge. 

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date. 

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection. 

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door. 

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket. 

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room. 

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work. 

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend. 

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses. 

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger. 

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds  @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @thesweetestsinner @merceret​ @imsydneywalker​ @sunsetcurvej @nicoledawson5604