#which make me worried that the stress will make him have a crisis but I’m sure he will be fine better than if he was alone for sure

[yoohyeon]

My aunt can babysit Puppy Saturday, you don’t know how relieve I am 😭

[kinnporsche]

what is this? another kinn & porsche rec list by tumblr user kinnporsche? it’s more likely than you think! it seems that i literally can’t stop—it’s been an entire year since the finale and i’m still stuck in my self-imposed 24/7 kinnporsche lockdown. so, here’s a bunch more fics that are currently making life worth living for me. once again, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to spread the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because they’re doing the lord’s work! god fucking bless. [part 6/?]

— self-fulfilling prophecy by lazulialekto – explicit / 119.4k words

Porsche stepped forward, dragging his eyes from Kinn’s chest, immediately concerned, “will things go sideways?”

Kinn grimaced, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. “They often do, especially lately.” His glass clinked as he set it back down, then his hand was running down his face, stressed.

Porsche moved closer, sitting beside him, ignoring protocol completely. “If it’s that dangerous for you to go, can’t you just… not, or change the venue, or something?”

“And let them know I’m worried?” Kinn laughed bitterly as he let his hand drop down to his thigh, the Theerapanyakul family ring glinting in the light of the lamp in the corner. “I can’t do that. In this business a great deal rides on appearances. If I look weak to them, I won’t be the only target.”

— the situationship by verses – explicit / 105k words (wip)

“What about kissing?” Porsche asked, and his heart did a weird thing where it twisted all the way around his lungs and then plunged to his stomach.

Kinn raised a brow at that. “What about kissing? I feel like as the resident straight boy here, you should take the lead on this conversation.”

Porsche swallowed. “Well, do you kiss your boyfriends? In front of your friends and family?”

Kinn shrugged, and for once, the movement didn’t seem entirely effortless. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, then,” Porsche said, licking his suddenly dry lips. With tingly fingers, he added to the contract: ‘Non-sexual kissing allowed to fool participant K’s brother.’

(Or: Kinn, under pressure from the patriarch of the Theerapanyakul family, entices Porsche to enter a fake, contractual relationship with him. In return, Porsche gets money, a sexuality crisis, and a headache.)

— be the best you ever tasted by martynax – explicit / 90.9k words

“What’s your name, darling?” he questions.

“Jom,” Porsche replies after a moment, it makes a snort pass through Kinn’s lips.

“You don’t look like a Jom. Forgive me for repeating myself but you’re a shit liar,” he says once more. He still looks amused, like Porsche is telling jokes. Porsche presses his lips together stubbornly, which makes a small smirk appear on Kinn’s lips; he looks delighted for some reason. “Tell you what, darling, you tell me your name and I will end the session now. How about it?”

(Or: AU where Porsche’s life is shit so he shakes his perky little butt for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show.)

— tiger bite by verbana – explicit / 54.7k words

Kinn leaned in, raking him over with his eyes. It felt like hovering over turbulent waters, daring a wave to come and sweep him down. “What are you gonna do to make me remember?”

Porsche reached up and slid a hand through the gap in Kinn’s shirt. Two fingers traced under his left collarbone. “I’ll tattoo my name here. Then all your hookups will have to stop and ask, who’s this?”

“And what should I tell them?” Their faces were too close. Porsche’s fingertips felt like they were plugged directly into his nervous system, lighting up every cell in his body. Red warning lights started flashing in the back of Kinn’s brain but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

— twelve, twenty, almost thirty by just2wings – explicit / 34.2k words

Kinn is twelve when he falls for the boy with the bubbly laugh and fiery brown eyes, the only one who’s ever been able to pin him to the ground during taekwondo practice.

Kinn is twenty when he runs into him in the school gym, and then again in some shady alley. He falls in love all over again on a golden-lit pier, and then remembers all the reasons he shouldn’t.

Kinn is pushing thirty when he falls into a familiar, handsome bartender’s orbit again, and finally learns to ask for what he wants.

— insatiable by thewayside – explicit / 22k words (wip)

He squints to get a closer look at it and the faintest aroma hits his nose; soft and delicate like cherry blossom petals and cloying like simple syrup they keep in the bar.

(Or: Porsche steals a watch and gets kidnapped by a stinky alpha who maybe isn’t an alpha at all. What should be a one-time thing becomes bigger than either of them realizes.)

— the shape of you fitting me by nuwildcat – explicit / 18.5k words

They say that a person’s scent is a mark of compatibility. The better someone else smells to you, the stronger a bond between you will be. Porsche has smelled a lot of people working as a bartender, and many more intimately in his free time. But he’s never smelt something like this before. The scent of this omega calls to him, tempting and consuming. It’s the kind of scent that makes him inclined to think the aunties were right about destined mates.

And then he meets the omega tied to that scent, and everything just fits.

— he wants more than a tip, i’m not talking about guidance by haeseolar – explicit / 18.1k words

“Everyone, get out.”

The temperature in the room suddenly drops, everything turning still at the sound of Kinn’s voice ringing out, stopping everyone dead in their tracks and slicing right through to them. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop, nobody daring to make a move just yet.

“Didn’t you all hear me? Out!” Kinn shouts, nostrils flaring and voice devoid of any of the previous calm he had.

Everyone goes into motion then, even Chan who takes the hint and goes to join the crowd in leaving the gym. Porsche straightens himself up, still clutching over the left side of his chest as he joins the rest in filing out through the doors.

“Not you, Porsche. You stay here.”

— off to the races by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 17k words (wip)

“So, what is it that you do?” Porsche asks. “Have you always been attending the swanky events I bartend at, and I just never noticed?”

Kinn chuckles, the deep timbre of it going straight down Porsche’s spine. “Trust me, if I had ever seen you before, I would have introduced myself earlier.”

— like a serpent coiling around your throat by darkknight – explicit / 9.8k words

“Will I have to beat you into submission?” Porsche said, his voice raspy as he pinned Kinn under him.

Kinn spat at him, specks of blood coating Porsche’s face. “You can try,” he said, turning on his side to take Porsche with him as he kicked out his leg, hitting Porsche in the thigh.

The other man groaned, but quickly punched Kinn in the throat, making the breath leave him as he stood up and pressed a foot down in the middle of Kinn’s chest. The hard leather of Porsche’s shoes digging uncomfortably against his bare skin.

“Khun Kinn, always needing to be in control, but wouldn’t it be such a relief if you. Just. Let. Go?” he said, stressing the last three words by pressing his foot down harder against Kinn’s chest, making his breath come out in a harsh wheeze.

“Fuck. You."

(Or: AU where Porsche is a Yakuza boss and Kinn hates his guts.)

— consider the hairpin turn by concernedlily – explicit / 9k words

“I’m starting to think you like being punished,” Kinn says, sitting primly on his pristine couch, legs crossed.

— i always know by reason_to_write – mature / 8.3k words

His words stuck in his throat. He barely forced it out.

“Kinn…”

Immediately, even with the terrible reception quality, he could sense the shift in atmosphere on the other end of the line. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fearsome mafia leader stop mid-stride and heard the sharp intake of breath. When the voice spoke again, it couldn’t have been gentler.

“Tell me where you are.”

(Or: Porsche gets kidnapped, but Kinn is coming.)

— on the nature of trust by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 6.1k words

They don’t stop clutching at each other right away.

Even if Porsche had tried, Kinn doesn’t think that he would allow it. He needs to be pressed up against as much of Porsche as he can.

If Porsche is holding on, he stills loves Kinn.

(Or: The aftermath of the iconic bathroom scene—set between episodes 7 and 8.)

— i’ll never surrender (my control over you) by luckydragon – explicit / 5.9k words

Bottoming doesn’t come naturally to Kinn, but he knows how to get what he needs.

— second skin by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 3k words

By the time they make it back to the house, accompanied by Pete and Arm, Porsche should be exhausted. All the alcohol burned off in his system from the adrenaline of Kinn blowing into the bathroom with a gun and backup, leaving him with a crystalline sort of clarity. That, more than anything, makes him feel wide awake.

[rubykgrant]

I made a couple minor adjustments (because I can never just leave things alone), so here they are again; Vanessa Kimball, Donald Doyle, Dr Emily Grey, the Mercs (Samuel Ortez, AKA Locus. Isaac Gates, AKA Felix. Mason Wu, AKA Siris) and the Lieutenants of Chorus (Charles Palomo, Katie Jensen, an OC Molly Dahl/Volleyball, Antoine Bitters, Duri Matthews, John Elizabeth Andersmith). All finished! On the left are the signature/armor colors, and the right are their individual colors

I had designs for the Lieutenants already, but I made some adjustments/edits, so here they are again. Grey and Doyle gave me SO MUCH TROUBLE, but I’m finally satisfied with them. Al though we saw the faces for Locus, Felix, and Mason, I wanted to translate that into my pixel style, and also do versions of them later on (this is Locus when he’s done with Chorus, and moving on. this is Felix in the middle of Chorus, when he was actually thriving in his element. This is Mason after he’s had some down time, way after Felix literally stabbed him in the back). I do all of these in MS Paint with a mouse, which started because it was the quickest way to scribble something up and share it… but after practicing for a couple years now, my style has improved (at least a little). My favorite thing to do with character designs is give everybody different features with the shapes of their eyes/noses/chins/mouths, and hairstyles~

Design notes for the characters below-

For Kimball, I’m imagining her as Canadian First Nations (Kainai). During the most stressful parts of Chorus, she had to constantly worry about everybody just surviving, but now that things have settled down, they all have a chance to LIVE, and be themselves (she’s wearing jewelry for the first time in a few years, earrings with ammolite gemstones). She has dark hair parted and pulled back in two braids. She’s in her late 20s, and has defined features, not harsh or striking, but still strong.

I tried a few different hair colors with Doyle, and finally settled on him being a carrot-top, and a little curly. He’s got a mustache, and I REALLY tried to make sure it doesn’t look like “ginger Wyoming” haha. I ecided to give him a little cleft in his chin (he also has exactly ONE scar; he doesn’t like people to see it, because it gives the false impression he was injured while fighting, and they start thinking he’s “brave” or something. he got it from falling off his bike and getting scrapped by a tree branch when he was a kid)

With Grey, I like to imagine that she’s been giving her hair vibrant colors for years, a little splash of happiness in a weary world. Her hair is parted in the middle, a longer length falling to one side, the other pinned back with two hair clips. The rest of her hair is wound up in a bun. The hair in her bun is a pale yellow, most of her hair is a very light pink, and the longer length is a gradient of pastel purple-blue. She has a small, heart-shaped mouth with a little bit of color (bright cherry-punch lip balm), and smile lines around her mouth. I really wanted her to have unique and distinct shapes in her face. Across her back and left shoulder is an old scar from an explosion

Locus actually wasn’t doing so great Chorus, not eating or sleeping enough, what with the whole crisis involved; thinking of himself as a murder-machine unable to see the worth of kindness or mercy, and THEN recovering enough humanity to be horrified by his actions thus considering himself a monster without a purpose… y'know, that whole deal. Anyway, the Reds and Blues force him to be a person again, so he gained some weight back. While he has a very strong jaw, it’s kind of low where the angle is (so he doesn’t have a “long” chin, but a wide one). He also has pretty defined cheek bones, and other features as well. He’s letting his hair recover some of the naturally curly texture as well

Felix, on the other hand, was doing just fine and dandy on Chorus (and probably sneaking off planet to get some Charon’s Fried Chicken while everybody else almost starved). He's a little older that the first look at him, with deeper lines in his face. He still has an undercut, the upper parts of his are is a little longer than before, parted in the middle. He has a way of looking very relaxed, even when he’s ready to snap and kill somebody… which is partially natural talent, but also very practiced, because he KNOWS how to use his charm to manipulate people. Once people know who he really is, he just looks like an a-hole. For those who meet him for the first time; he’s seems like a dude who is really chill and likes to laugh

After things fell apart with Locus and Felix (mainly, Felix trying to kill him), Mason took some time to recover and stayed under the radar for a few years. Eventually, both he and Megan work together with their own private detective agency (similar skills, but less of a bounty-hunter, more locating missing/kid-napped people, and helping others escape dangerous situations). He has clear, sharp angles to his face (I wanted to try and emphasize that the features aren’t “scary”, but beautiful). He has a nick in his left ear, and over his left eyebrow. He’s grown a beard, and let his hair get longer (it was probably even more so while he was hiding, but he’s recently trimmed it a little). He has some salt-and-pepper going on, very distinguished~

Palomo is a kid who has recently gone through both an emotional groth-spurt and a physical growth-spurt, so he’s still sort of getting used to himself. He thought he was done with the awkward teen years, but now comes the awkward 20s! He’s a little bit of a string-bean, with striking features that still show his softer side. He keeps his hair short, and it just kind of spikes up (he’s a natural anime kid haha). I decided he wears glasses (clear frames). I’m imagining him as mixed Italian and Mexican.

I think a lot of people picture Katie with braids/freckles, and I’m no different. It just looks cute on her. She has a strong chin, with somewhat angular features, a little bit of a squared jawline, but not too defined. She’s sort of in the middle with the kids of Chorus, not very young, but still not part of the older group. She’s tall, just a bit more than Palomo. Her family is Jewish (from Poland and Russia back in the day, but her more recent relatives lived in Canada)

I’m calling the Volleyball Girl Molly Dahl, and her nick-name is Dolly (yes, because it rhymes, haha). She’s very cute, and looks younger than she actually is (older than Jensen by a couple years, so just barely out of her early-20s). Her features are very soft, and sort of “angelic”. She’s also very athletic, and better at unarmed fighting than most of the others. I imagined her being Black (background being Afro-Latina and Caribbean). She has her natural hair kept back in an afro with a pink headband

Bitters is not only older than some of the other kids here, but he even had more memories of life before Chorus (Bitters was LITERALLY bitter about how this was all the others knew, and he wished they could actually have a chance to be KIDS). Despite trying to go for a bored-rebellious attitude all the time, he’s secretly sweet and caring. He’s still young, and has a slightly slender, gentle shape to his face. He’s Black (Creole), and has coiled hair pulled back (a twist and short ponytail). He has his left eyebrow pierced

Matthews didn’t have much time to cut his hair back during the whole war incident, but later on Grif actually did something nice and told him his long hair was cool (now that he’s not actively trying to be a jerk, Grif actually LIKES this kid). Matthews decided to keep it long, coming down around his shoulders, parted off-center. I’m imagining him Korean, and so I gave him a first name to be part of that. He’s one of the younger kids, with a chubby body-type (although he’s the shortest of this group, he’s actually more of a medium-height; the rest of them are all just EXTRA tall)

I feel like Andersmith still cuts his hair like a dude going in for his first professional job interview (he actually looks a bit like a “prince charming” type, very strong features that are a little elegant). He’s one of the older kids, but because he’s tall, a few people assume he’s been around for a lot longer. Despite how serious he presents himself, he’s actually a very emotional person, and will passionately talk about how important hope and friendship is, and loves listening to the interests his friends have. I’m imagining him being mixed European and Southeast Asian (Norwegian and Filipino).

[cariantha]

Drink Had Me

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Category: Fluff Word count: 3.3K Prompt: Ethan has too much to drink and winds up on Sawyer’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Event: I’m participating in the Song Rewrite Challenge hosted by @choicesprompts. This fic is a rewrite of Drink Had Me by Jordan Davis.

🎵Hell, I was up to nothing

🎵Just sittin' home alone

🎵Yeah, I was gonna cash it in

🎵About to put down my phone

🎵And I had a message waitin'

🎵Them boys won't let me sleep

🎵So I told 'em I would meet 'em out

🎵And just have one drink

Ethan was mentally and physically exhausted. He could feel the stress he’d been carrying deep in his bones. His muscles sighed as he sunk into the comfort of his couch and rested his head on the back cushion. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, enjoying the peace and quiet of his empty apartment. 

He tried to push aside the thoughts that had plagued him. The budget crisis. The selfish billionaire. The competition with Tobias. The situation with his mother. But mostly, it was Sawyer that occupied his mind. He worried that the constant push and pull between them was nearing a breaking point.

She had recently gone behind his back and opened Pandora’s box. She compromised the team’s mission. She called him a “goddamn diva” in front of his colleagues. Worst still, it’s what she said when helping him set up his Pictagram profile. “It’s love, Ethan. It doesn’t have to make sense. I guess you just… feel it.” The words nagged at him constantly, and not because she was probably right - like she was right about everything else - but because he felt something. Something unfamiliar. Something scary. Something he hoped was reciprocated. 

DING! That sound used to annoy him, but now it made him eager to check his phone, because there was only one person who insisted on texting him. Quickly reaching for his phone, he sighed disappointedly when he saw the message was not from Sawyer.

Ethan groaned. He had forgotten that this morning, while working out with his gym buddies, he made plans to meet them at Donahue's for drinks and a game of pool. In an attempt to rouse Rafael from his suspension-induced funk, Sawyer proposed the night out. And in all honesty, Ethan only agreed because he saw it as an opportunity to spend time with her. It was only after he committed to attend that Sawyer bothered to mention she had prior plans with Stephanie, their coma patient.   

Ethan arrived at Donohue’s thirty minutes later and swore to himself he would only stay for one drink.

“... and then she said, ‘Oh, would you prefer to be called a spoiled child or an entitled jackass?’ You should have seen your face, man.” Baz, who had wandered over earlier to say hello, couldn’t contain his laughter as he told the story of Sawyer calling Ethan a diva to everyone gathered around the pool table.  

Rolling his eyes, Ethan ordered another drink while the guys racked the pool balls for another game.

“... speaking of workouts... Raf, remember when you asked Sawyer why she liked to work out? And she said because she wants to look good naked. Dude. Best response ever,” Bryce recalled with a laugh as he shared another round of tequila shots.

Ethan gladly accepted, swallowing the cheap liquor in one gulp when the memory of Sawyer standing in front of his bedroom window came to mind. 

Every time Sawyer’s name was mentioned, which was surprisingly often, Ethan put a glass to his mouth. Better that than inadvertently slipping and revealing something he shouldn’t.

“Okay, time for a round of Fuck-Marry-Kill,” Bryce announced, earning a groan from Rafael. “Since you’re so excited to play, Raf, you can go first. JLo, Shakira, Taylor.”

“Easy. Fuck JLo. Marry Shakira. Kill Taylor,” Rafael answered. After taking a sip of beer, he turned to Elijah. “Your turn. Lara Croft, Leeloo from Fifth Element, and umm… Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween.”

“Damn, man. Uhhh…” Elijah twisted up his lips as he pondered his answer. “I guess I’d fuck Croft, marry Leeloo, and go all Michael Myers on JLC.”

Raising his hand excitedly, Baz jumped in. “Oh, oh, I’ve got one for Ethan… Harper, June, and Sawyer.”

The other men snapped their heads to Ethan, bracing for the explosive impact. But to everyone’s surprise, Ethan threw back another shot and answered without hesitation. “Fuck Harper. Marry Sawyer. Kill June.” 

Reggie made the announcement for last call, and at midnight he kicked everyone out, including Ethan. The inebriated men stumbled outside to wait for their rides. Ethan decided to walk for a while, and bid them good night. He strolled down the block until he reached the rose garden near the hospital. Resting on a park bench, he dug his phone from his pocket. But instead of dialing for a ride to take him home, he called Sawyer.

🎵But the drink had me

🎵Callin' you up, talkin' all crazy

🎵Talkin' 'bout us

🎵And catchin' a ride over to your room

🎵And keepin' your roommates up past two

Sawyer’s phone lit up on her nightstand with an incoming call, but she didn’t notice. She had fallen asleep a couple hours ago.

On the other end of the line, Ethan heard her voice. “Hi there, you’ve reached Sawyer. Leave me a message.”

“Sawyer,” he sighed before continuing, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the phone screen. Sawyer’s contact picture smiled back at him. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately. I just… I want you so fucking bad,” he confessed. “I need you to be with me.”

He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat and growled. “But I can’t have you.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head to look at her picture again. “I’ve been losing my goddamn patience with this situation. I don’t want to push you away anymore. It kills me to know that I’m hurting you, but I’m still afraid of what might happen if people find out about us.”

Ethan stood and held the phone at eye level as if trying to look her in the eye. “I feel like I’m on the verge of losing you, Sawyer.”

He began to pace back and forth and rambled on. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said a couple weeks ago. It really fucked me up, because I don’t think I’ve felt like this before.”

“God, Sawyer, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself. “Sawyer, say it back. Please say it back to me. I don’t want to be alone in this feeling.”

There was a long pause while Ethan stared at his phone, hoping for some sort of reply. “Fuck it. I’m coming over.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when there was a knock on the apartment door. Sienna, who was still up baking, checked the peep hole and unlocked the door. “Dr. Ramsey! What are you doing here so late?”

His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled of whiskey and beer. The drink and exhaustion rapidly stripped away what little control of himself he had left. Ethan steadied himself with a hand on the doorframe and answered, “I need to talk to Sawyer. I need to see her. Is she here?”

Sienna invited him in. With her five-foot-nothing frame, she nervously guided the towering and swaying six-foot-four-inch sack of muscles into a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll be right back.”

Gently knocking first, Sienna let herself into Sawyer’s room. “Sawyer? Sawyer, wake up,” she whispered loudly.

Sawyer awoke with a start, finding Sienna crouched at the side of her bed. “What’s wrong?” she panicked.

“Ummmm… Dr. Ramsey is here.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“He said he needs to speak with you,” Sienna explained.

Sawyer threw her covers aside and stumbled out of bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. She quickly checked the time on her phone, noticing the missed call and voicemail notifications from Ethan. “I swear to God, if he’s here to drag me out of bed for another diagnostics case…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think that’s why,” her friend said, leading her down the hallway.

Once her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in the kitchen, Sawyer spotted Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands. His body language reminded her of the times when he had felt pretty hopeless, like when Dolores died and when Naveen was sick. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ethan lifted his head and let out a small sigh of relief recognizing her. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice tired and gravelly.

She followed his eyes to Sienna, who had gone back to her baking. “Let’s go to my room.”

Ethan stood and followed her down the hall. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and he threw himself against the wall to keep from stumbling over. Sawyer grimaced at the loud thump, hoping it didn’t wake her other roommates. She quickly tucked herself under his arm and helped him the rest of the way.

Just as her door clicked closed, Jackie poked her head into the hallway. “What the hell was that?” she called out.

Sienna came into view from the kitchen. “Sorry, Jackie, that was me. Sorry I woke you.”

“Do you ever sleep, Trinh?” Jackie yawned, shutting her door and going back to bed.

🎵The drink had me

🎵Wantin' one more

🎵Wantin' to forget what we broke up for

🎵And doin' that make up, wake up thing

🎵I just went in there to have one drink

🎵But the drink had me

Sawyer sat Ethan down on the side of her bed, then stood in front of him casually crossing her arms. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Is this about your mom?”

His head felt like a sloshing fishbowl when he shook it. Focusing on her bare feet, he attempted to ground himself.

Getting more worried, Sawyer stroked her fingers through his hair. “Hey, talk to me.”

Slowly lifting his head, Ethan’s eyes trailed up her long legs to the oversized Hopkins t-shirt she wore. “Is that my shirt?”

Glancing down at the heather gray tee, she replied with a hint of embarrassment, “Yes.”

Sawyer braced her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance when Ethan tugged her close. Standing between his knees, he hugged her tightly around the waist and rested the side of his face against her stomach.

“I miss you,” he mumbled.

A beat later his hands dropped to the back of her thighs. His fingertips lightly caressed her soft skin, eliciting goosebumps. Lifting his eyes to gauge her reaction, he slowly slid his hands higher, palming her backside and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Ethan,” she warned, gripping his forearms to prevent his hands from wandering any further.

“I want you,” he said, kissing her belly through the t-shirt she had stolen from him.

“Ethan, you’re drunk.”

“Say it back,” he whined.

“Say what back?”

“That you still want me.”

She sighed deeply. “Ethan…” When he looked at her with desperate, pleading eyes, she took a seat on his knee. “I want you too,” she repeated and cupped his cheek, “but not like this. Not a drunken mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” Ethan asserted. “I know what I want.”

She shook her head. “I know you, Ethan. You’ll regret it in the morning when you’re clearheaded.”

Ethan began to protest when the nausea hit. “I won’t… I–,” he paused and swallowed, “I’m going to be sick.”

Sawyer jumped off his lap and grabbed her garbage pail just in time. Ethan wretched the contents of his stomach while she soothingly rubbed his back. When he was finished, Sawyer offered him a tissue and a sip from her water bottle. She then knelt before him and removed his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you ready for bed. You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now. You can stay here and sleep it off.” As she stood, she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. “Scoot back and lie down,” she instructed. Ethan complied.

She met his hooded eyes, giving him a look of warning. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said before unbuttoning his pants. “Lift your butt.” After carefully tugging off his jeans, she neatly folded his clothes and set them atop her dresser. Returning to his side, she tucked him under the covers.

“Where are you going?” he murmured when she stepped toward the door.

“I’m just going to clean this up and grab you some aspirin,” she answered, picking up the small waste bin. “Do you need or want anything else?”

Ethan shook his head.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised with an assuring smile.

When Sawyer returned a few minutes later, Ethan’s eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. She turned out the lights and crawled under the covers. Hugging the edge of her full-size bed, she resisted the urge to curl up next to him, and soon dozed off.

🎵Next morning came too early

🎵Heart poundin' in my head

🎵And it took me just a second

🎵To realize I know this bed

🎵And it ain't where I belong

🎵But you got my T-shirt on

🎵I blame the alcohol

🎵No, it ain't my fault

🎵The drink had me

Ethan’s head throbbed. The sound of distant, muffled voices had woken him. He cracked his eyes open, thankful for the dim surroundings. Blinking away the fog in his vision, he focused on the ceiling. There was something familiar about the dangling light fixture overhead. A single lightbulb hung from a rope cord. The gentle breeze that wafted through the window caused it to sway back and forth in a hypnotizing motion. Aware that he was not at home, Ethan’s eyes swept the small bedroom, taking in every detail. As recognition set in, his heart began to race, intensifying the pounding in his head.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, his senses were overwhelmed with the sweet smell of her. Daring to cast a quick look downward, he found Sawyer tucked into his side. Her arm was draped across his torso, her thigh across his waist, with a foot nestled between his legs. Ethan’s right arm was at her back, holding her close. His left hand gripped the back of her bent knee, as if he had been using the leverage to keep her locked in place. She was wearing his t-shirt, and he was only wearing underwear.

He reached into the black box of his mind for any remembrance, but came back empty handed. He didn’t know what to be more upset about. The eventual fallout from this reckless encounter, or the cruel twist of fate of taking Sawyer to bed again and not remembering a damn thing about it.

When her alarm rang out, Ethan silently cursed. “No, not yet.” He needed more time to figure his way out of this mess. More time holding her body against his.

Sawyer groaned in frustration as her phone sang a melodic tune of chirping birds. As she did every morning, she buried the tip of her cold nose into her pillow and inhaled. Only it wasn’t her pillow she smooshed her face into this morning. It was Ethan’s chest. His warmth and scent aroused her senses, and she was instantly awake.

Seeing that he was too, she pushed back from him and tried to cover herself with the forgotten comforter. “Shit, sorry,” she whispered, rolling away to silence her phone.

Her surprise and embarrassment confused him. “Why are you apologizing?”

She turned to face him, making sure to keep a safe distance. “I tried to keep to my side. I must have rolled over in my sleep and snuggled up to you.”

“Keep to your side? Did we not…?”

She shook her head.

Ethan looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath.

Sensing his relief, Sawyer swiftly climbed out of bed. “I’m going to get ready for work. Your clothes are on the dresser and your phone is charging on the desk. My roommates should be leaving soon.”

“Sawyer-”

“It’s fine, Ethan,” she said, rummaging through her dresser drawers. “We can talk about it later when you feel better. Or if you prefer, not at all, because nothing happened.” Ethan rubbed the spot between his eyes. “There's some water and aspirin on the nightstand,” she pointed out before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her.

A while later, they left the apartment and shared a ride to the hospital, successfully avoiding the topic of last night. They limited their conversation to simple questions and one-word answers, merely enough to get out the door and on their way.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sawyer said, and not waiting for reciprocation, she hurried away.

Ethan watched until she disappeared through the sliding doors of the hospital’s main entrance. He cursed at himself the entire walk to Donohue’s to retrieve his car. They may not have slept together, but he still ended up on her doorstep last night and tangled in her bed this morning. He hoped once the hangover cleared, he would remember why, so they could clear the air.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Sawyer was slow to leave the diagnostics office when their team meeting ended the next day. The tension between her and Ethan was so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife. She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned to study him, watching as he stacked case files, doing his best to ignore her. “This feels like the morning after Miami all over again,” she finally spoke.

Ethan stopped what he was doing, took a deep breath, and braced himself for the conversation he had been dreading. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you the other night.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t care about that. Shifting her gaze out the window, she bit the corner of her lip before speaking again. “Do you remember calling me? Leaving a voicemail?”

Ethan swallowed hard. He had checked his phone yesterday and knew that he dialed her number, but didn’t recall leaving a message. “No. I only remember bits and pieces after leaving Donahue’s.” He took a cautious step toward her. “What... what did I say?” he asked, trying to hide his nerves.

“It doesn't matter,” she sighed, still looking out the window, “you probably didn't mean it.” She downplayed her disappointment with a quiet chuckle, “I never pegged you for a sappy drunk.”

Ethan stepped in front of her, cupping her chin to force her to look at him. “I meant it,” he said firmly.

“You just said you don’t remember–”

“I don't,” he interjected, “but if the result was me showing up at your door, and waking up with you in my arms, then whatever I said… I meant it.” Gazes locked on each other, Ethan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He breathed a sigh of relief when Sawyer’s lips finally turned up in a small, forgiving smile.

That smile slowly changed to a mischievous one. Ceasing the opportunity, she started to back away as she spoke. “Well in that case…" She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I want to get married in June. A fancy church wedding and a huge reception. Oh, and let’s honeymoon in Paris! It will be so romantic.”

“Funny–”

“But you should know, I plan to keep my last name,” she continued teasing.

“You’re a brat. Get out of here,” he demanded, playfully tossing a pen in her direction as she scrambled to leave.

“Hey!” she yelped, using the door as a shield.

“Oh, and I want my shirt back!” he hollered.

Poking her head back in, she offered a deal. “If you can get me out of it, Ramsey... it’s yours. See ya!”

A/N: Ethan's drunken confession was also inspired by the song Say It Back by Nicklas Sahl.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose@potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn

[losergames]

natasha telling me that jonno can hump whomever he wants, telling me, his assistant, behind closed doors…yeah i get it..i can read between the lines, don’t worry miss, I’ll make that man have a sexuality crisis don’t you worry🫡🫡 (can’t wait to see more of Natasha and jonno together, evil threesome when?)

Just found your work yesterday and I really enjoyed myself playing it! The start of the story really gets you drawn in immediately and I really enjoy the realism of the MCs life. Originally I thought my character would be a bit more charming and intrigued by the crime aspect, but then when I started playing he became an autistic mess who tried to run away every chance he got and did not want to do this😎 which normally would be a problem because he has to engage in the crime But the way you’ve written being 25+ and stuck in a job that you don’t like, the money stress, the inherent loneliness of seeing your friends thrive and grow while you stay stagnant…(first of very relatable ow) but then it gets easy to go yeah of course he’ll commit to doing crimes. It’s scaring him shitless, but…It would make you feel like you have some control over your life when it feels like your life just happens to you, just based on that its worth it. Seeing a group of people work together and hangout together when you have one friend who you’re growing apart from..again of course you jump into it. Plus money is a very nice bonus.

Idk I just love that the story works no matter how you play it and I love exploring that stuck in life aspect in fiction, since I can’t seem to figure it out in real life atm haha. You’ve truly captured something special and I’m looking forward to further updates! And I can’t wait to get to talk to KJ again because him x the main character dynamic possibilities are just mwah mwah. Thanks for your hard work!

anon it's like u read my mind... like, who wouldn't want to accidentally fall into the world's weirdest threesome with your boss who you hate and his fiancee you also kinda hate

and thank you so much! it's so nice getting messages about the game where the reader really just Gets it y'know. augh!!! genuinely it's really touching knowing there is someone who's on the same wavelength as me haha -- so thank you! you've given me a great boost and i hope i can continue to write more for you <3

[josephquinnswhore]

THIRTEEN DAYS: chapter one - caught in the crosshairs.

Pairing: A Dave York Series x female reader.

Summary: Dave has a loose end to tie up. You get caught in the cross hairs of his secret work affairs.

Word Count: 3.3k

WARNING: reader gets kidnapped, put in a chokehold, slight mention of blood, murder, death of unborn child, guns, violence.

⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

Waking up at 05:00 am on a Sunday morning wasnt how you had expected to start the last day of your and Dave's childless weekend together. Hearing the soft and irritable murmur of Dave's voice lulled your body out of bed, the curiosity gives you strength to get out of the warmth and comfort of your bed that smelt of your and Dave's long night of pure ecstacy.

There’s a dim light coming from the kitchen. Not the kitchen light itself, but the light above the oven has been switched on, which emits a dull yellow hue that barely escapes the perimeter of the kitchen counter. He probably decided that light was best, in his attempt not to wake you. The small television in the kitchen buzzes to life as it finally connects to the news channel.

Dave hangs up the phone angrily, slamming it on the kitchen bench. He doesn’t need to turn to know you’re there, years of military experience have his ears trained to sense your presence. The tension leaves his shoulders as soon as your palms caress them, fingertips digging into his blue cotton dress shirt.

He was well dressed, leather belt and black dress pants accompanied the blue shirt.

“Tell me you’re not going to work Dave.”

Knowing you’re going to be disappointed is a fact that makes it hard to face you. But he has to. He shifts on one foot to rotate his body so he’s facing you, the stress on his face was engraved into the already permanent wrinkles on his forehead and eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby, you know I’d stay if I had a choice.” Calloused fingertips caress your cheeks as he cups your face in his large hands.

“You do have a choice Dave. You’re just not choosing me.”

Before Dave could reply, the news reports voice could be heard on the tv that caught her attention.

“And on this mornings news, the CIA are investigating a string of suspicious murders. Authorities say they’re looking into the cases, trying to see if any are connected.”

“Perhaps the world is just going mad, crisis and chaos seem to render the streets in this day. Police are encouraging everyone to install security measures to protect themselves and their homes. Stay safe out there folks, we’ll see you shortly with more news at 9.”

Dave turns the tv off with a soft groan, already expecting the worried look that’s etched onto your face.

“What the hell? Murders? As in multiple? What’s going on Dave?” Oxygen struggles to fill your lungs as you stand there, almost paralysed at the shock of hearing this for the first time.

Dave was never one to talk about work; he was always strict on keeping his work and home life seperate. That wouldn’t change now. Even if your pleading eyes pulled at his heartstrings, making him feel guilty.

“Please Dave.. something feels wrong about all of this, I don’t want you in the middle of this.” A tender hand on his chest comforts him. He knew he had to deny her the comfort of him staying home, of him not being involved.

He wasn’t just at risk of being caught in the crossfire, he was the one that ignited it all.

“Do you trust me?” He says firmly, searching your eyes. You were a bad liar, he knew if you were lying he would see it dancing in your eyes.

“Of course I trust you! This is just getting scary Dave! God what if they come after you, us? That sets a huge target on the backs of our children.” There was no lie he could detect, you were being truthful, of course you were.

Dave began finding himself wanting to withdraw from the conversation, he sighed in annoyance and checked his watch. Bringing the children into the argument was a line you’d crossed once before and he didn’t react well to it. He danced along the line of snapping at you and shutting you out.

“I’ll have one of my guys come help you do the errands today and pickup the girls. Don’t forget they need to be picked up by 2, sharp.” He snips.

By the time you’d realised what had been said, Dave was already infuriated.

A hopeful hand latches onto his forearm, guilt radiating off you like heat waves. “I shouldn’t have said that—“

Dave cuts you off, by checking his watch. “I’m late. We’ll talk about this mess later. Don’t forget to make sure those things I ordered for you are in your bag. Before you leave.”

Silently, you watch your fiancé leave the house, slamming the door in a trail of his annoyance.

That was not how you wanted things to go. Damn.

-

As soon as Dave stepped foot out of the house, the argument was forgotten, he had pushed it, and you to the back of his mind.

He needed a clear head for his the stupid shit he was having to deal with today. Loose ends.

They didn’t leave loose fucking ends. They were professionals.

“Guess that’s what happens when I leave it to someone fucking else to do the job.” He mutters angrily to himself.

He drives through the interstate, his fingers grasp his burner phone and texts his two accomplices and sends them the address of their next hit.

Traffic was light, he knew it would be. He knew this road like the back of his hand, every afternoon he would take this route, driving down every street, each lane way. Taking notes of people’s routines in the street so he knew when an appropriate time would be to approach the job; and how long he had.

He pulls up to the house, a small apartment; two large windows and an immaculate front garden.

05:20am.

He flicks through the files he has on the woman that had information on his last hit; two people that could identify two of his men involved in blowing up an apartment block two weeks ago.

She was pretty, in her thirties and had no children, a short term boyfriend and no other family.

He taps his watch irritably as he waits for the man to leave the house, he had left at 05:20am every morning, what was the hold up?

Finally. Seven minutes pass. 05:27am.

He sees someone exit the house, he hurriedly gets into his car, Dave knew the man was late as he pulls his car out of the driveway, the tyres of his sedan screech along the tar pavement as he takes off in a hurry.

“Fucked my time up, god knows how long I have now.” Dave huffs, sliding on a black hoodie and beanie, the material of the beanie warms his ears against the bitter morning breeze.

He checks his watch as he makes it to the front door, two minutes to sneak a hundred meters? He had to get back into shape.

Could he stop eating those damn muffins of yours—of course not. They were intoxicating. Like you.

“Fucking focus.” He whispers to himself, pulling out his gun from the back of his pants. Turning off the safety and cocking the gun was like second nature to him.

The front door is locked; an obstacle he expected but found annoying. There’s a side gate on the right side to the property, he picks up a stick and throws it into the backyard, waiting to see if any guard animals occupied the property.

Nothing.

He taps the gate softly enough for anything outside to hear. Moments pass and again, nothing.

His hands open the gate, preying it gently. It doesn’t squeal, thank fuck. The back door, luckily enough wasn’t locked. Unfortunate for the person inside, though.

Dave opens the glass sliding door, it rattles a little but he slides his way through the gap, the TV is on; a cooking show with two women demonstrate how to make the perfect curry with minimal ingredients.

He stops for a second, slightly amused that someone could be watching this as the crack of dawn. A loud yawn comes from the recliner in front of him.

The TV turns off. Dave’s reflection can be seen in the television and the woman sees him, Dave’s looking right back at her.

Before she can scream he grabs her from the back of the lounge, his hand tightly grips her mouth, holding her neck firm to the back of the headrest on the creamy leather of the recliner.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll shoot.” He warns cooly. He was calm, too calm.

“I need you to stand, hand up where I can see ‘em. No funny business.” He removes his hand slowly, she doesn’t scream.

He kicks the back of the recliner and the woman lets out a small noise of fear.

“Now!” He growls.

She gets up, holding her hands in the air, he needed confirmation this was the woman; that could destroy his life with one police statement, one witness count. One positive identification that would lead the investigation right to his doorstep. Where you were, his family, his girls.

It was her.

“Lacey. That’s you, right?” He keeps the gun pointed at her, steady.

“Y-yes that’s me.. I don’t know what you think I’ve done but—“ She caresses her stomach, her rounded swollen stomach, full of life, unborn life.

For the first time in his career, Dave hesitates. The gun drops an inch, his heart aches in his chest, deeply.

It was him, or her. His family or hers.

He lifts the gun to her head and shoots her, the silencer makes for little noise in the small house.

Bile rises up his esophagus. It burns as it rises hot and fast, he has to swallow it back down. A second round of burning sensation.

“Fuck.. fucking Christ!” He bellows, heaving shakily, he runs out of the house and out of the yard, slamming the gate shut, not bothering with the latch.

It was a sloppy job, he knew it. He had fucked up. Big time.

He texts the unknown number; the man who pays.

>”Comp.”

He received a new notification;

>”You’ve been paid $150,000 into your selected bank account.”

“Payments are getting low again. Gonna have to pickup some more work.” He sighs irritably and rings his most trusted companion.

“Hey, I need a favour today…”

-

You’re showering when there’s a knock on the door, halfway through conditioning your hair too, real convenient. Rushing through rinsing it out, you’re hesitant to even answer the door.

A robe is thrown on quickly, feet patting down the stairs furiously as you storm towards the front door; ready to give hell to whomever interrupts your shower. Your serenity. A place where every negative thought and ounce of anxiety is rinsed from your body and mind.

The anger and annoyance is drained from your body when you come face to face with Dave’s friend.

“Resnik, you’re early.” Checking your clock on the wall, it’s only 11:02am. “You’re not supposed to be here until 11:30?”

The man laughs, “I like to be punctual.” He looks at you in your robe and raises an eyebrow. “I can wait outside if you’d like until you’re.. decent?”

The heat in your ears warm with embarrassment as you step aside to let him into your house. “Oh.. oh no come in, make yourself at home, I’ll get dressed and we can go.”

The shame was overwhelming, Dave’s closest friend showing up and you’re in your robe, god what next. A distant chuckle can be heard from downstairs.

-

“Ready to go?” He perks up at your voice, a smile on his weary lips, cracked and dry. There’s a stale look in his eyes, as much as you want to ask, it’s not your business.

“Yes ma’am. Where’s our first destination?” You lock your front door and he leads you to his car, a black Range Rover, brand new and incredibly nice. The interior is a pale crème, the seats are fitted with leather and the car starts with a button.

“They must be paying you well.” It slips your mind, but looking at Resnik he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Some of us don’t have much to show for it. People like Dave are the lucky ones; family and a nice woman to go home to. That’s the goal isn’t it? Every man’s dream.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice that you don’t pick up on.

“I guess I never thought of it that way.” You mutter quietly, phone clutched in hand, starring at your screensaver. An image of Dave and the two girls; your whole world.

The ride wasn’t long; but most of it was spent in silence, until you pull up to the grocery store parking lot and Resnik turns to you, putting the car in park.

“Dave’s a good man. He’s faced some dark shit with the job he’s doing. You—he’s doing it for you and the girls, so you can have a good life.” He implores.

You knew, you know. Resnik could see it on your face, the regret, the anguish, the need.

Why’d you have to question everything? Dave was a good man. A great husband, and a wonderful father.

“Cheer up, we’re gonna have a good day.” Resnik chuckles, coming around to open up your door.

He helps you out of the car and takes your things to carry them, his arm is outstretched, gesturing to lead the way.

“After you, Mrs York.”

You roll your eyes. “Not yet I’m not, although you can’t deny how nice it sounds.”

-

A few hours had passed and shopping with Resnik was a breeze, he was helpful, had some good advise worth listening to and he listened intently without judgement, maybe he could’ve been a therapist in another life.

His phone had been buzzing in his pocket as they walk along the park pathway, a peaceful area where they’d ended up at the public bathroom, because you’d needed to use the loo.

“Answer it Resnik, I’ll hang by the pond. I think I’ll be okay without you for a few minutes.” You joke with him.

He hesitantly nods but answers the phone; muffled voices drown out as he walks a distance away to take the call. The ducks approach you, swimming in the man made lake that had a poxy chicken-wire fence around it. “I’m sorry buddy, I don’t have any food. See.” You hold out your bare hands, showing the duck an absence of food it begged for.

Scuffling on the cement path behind you scared the duck, furiously quacking as it flapped away, skimming the water, splashing your shoes as it flies away.

“Jesus Resnik, really?” You turn to see a man that’s not Reanik, fear grips you. Acting quickly with your fight reflexes, you quickly reach for your bag that had the pepper spray, you’re clutching your jeans as you remember Resnik had offered to hold it while you’d gone to the toilet.

Fuck.

“Aim for the liver.”

“The balls, the throat. Any cheap shot you can get. Scratch them. Anything you do makes a difference.”

“Just don’t fucking freeze.”

Dave had always said to you. Repeated it, made you swear to him you’d be vigilant.

Here you were, clawing and kicking and thrashing, landing only one decent elbow to his nose, blood trickles down his chin and he grunts angrily.

“You’ll pay for that! Fucking bitch.” The man spits at you, wrapping his thick bicep around your neck.. you fought, to stay conscious.

It took less than a minute for you to loose consciousness, the man drags you through the grassy area to his car and speeds off.

-

When Resnik returns it’s already been minutes since you’ve been kidnapped. The only trace of anything is the few large drops of blood, he kneels down to inspect them, they’re fresh. Still sitting on top of the cement, right where you were standing.

He looks around, he starts running frantically, out of breath when he lets out a small exhale, running a hand through his greying hair.

He texts Dave, again and again, trying to ring him with no answer.

“Fuck Dave! Pick up the phone!” He yells as his phone reaches Dave’s voicemail again.

-

Dave’s phone rings.

He’s in his car, driving along the interstate, coming back from a job. He and his colleges decided to drive in different cars, the less attention they got the better—four burly men wearing all black in a car full of weapons and suspicious items; tape, disposable gloves, military coding on their phones.

They’d been doing this for years and knew better than to be so stupid. The last thing he needed was someone fucking ringing him. Pinging his location close to the crime.

The adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel, letting out a growl of frustration, letting the second call ring out; this time he saw it was his mother, and she’d left a voicemail.

“Dave pick up the damn phone. Your daughters mother hasn’t picked the girls up or contacted, and they’ve been waiting an hour. Call me back.” The annoyance in her voice is evident, frustration wearing thin. She snaps the last sentence and hangs up the phone.

His mother had never liked you; for some reason your absence only fuelled the distain she held for you.

Dave nearly rear ends a pick-up truck, the instinctive foot presses down hard on the break, barely preventing a collision.

The seatbelt tightens around his collarbone, car lurching as it comes to an abrupt stop. Barely two inches between the front bumper of his suv, and the towball of the pickup.

The light turns green and he puts his foot to the floor, in a panic, he begins racing to your shared home.

You were meant to pickup the girls, you’d never done anything like this; you wouldn’t. Dave knew deep in his aching bones that something was wrong.

He swerves through traffic manically, accelerating through yellow lights and taking corners above the suggested speed. He frantically fumbles with his phone, trying to dial your contact, when the phone slips through his fingers and onto the floor well at his feet.

He lets out a primal grunt; fingertips searching the rubber mat for his phone and he grasps it after a few seconds of searching.

Your phone rings, and he hears your voice. Your sweet tender, velvety voice on your Voicemail. “I’m sorry I couldn’t answer, please leave a message and contact number and I’ll get back to you.”

He dials it again.

Voicemail. He tries once more and this time is left with a message that makes his blood pressure rise, anxiety bubbling inside of him.

“This phone has been disconnected.”

He tears the black beanie off his head, hands slamming against the steering wheel in a fury. A few moments pass and he lets himself feel it; fear.

“Where the fuck are you baby?” He whispers to himself, his breath fogging up the inside of his windscreen. At this point he’s unsure if it’s the fog or his watering eyes that makes his vision unclear, probably a mix of both.

All of that nonsense was put into the back of his head as his thick fingers curl back around the steering wheel, a darkening gaze finding its place into his darkening brown eyes. Finding you was the only thing that mattered. You.

His phone buzzes, again and again.

Dave’s heart drops when he sees Resnik’s desperate texts, hearing the voicemail of his breathless voice, like he’d been running for miles.

“She’s fucking gone Dave—I took a call and she’s just gone.. there’s a few drops of blood but.. she’s just vanished. Call me back. Fuck dave pick up the phone!”

No. No. No.

Not you.

“You had one fucking job Resnik! Fuck!” He throws his phone to the passenger footwell and clutches his deeply aching chest with one of his trembling hands.

This couldn’t be nothing. This—this was a sign, you’d voice your concerns to him this morning and now.. you were gone.

Whatever it took, whoever he’d have to eliminate. Nothing stood in the way of him finding you.

—

taglist;

@cool-iguana @staywildflowahchild @quicheislife @untamedheart81 @movievillainess721 @heareball @bbyanarchist @mellymbee

[gillianthecat]

My favorite thing about The New Employee so far is the way Jong Chan looks at Seung Hyun. And grabs his wrist or takes his hand. Or leans his head on Seung Hyun’s shoulder. Or can’t stop touching him as he shows him off to their advertising clients. Plus I love his soft morning casual look with his hair down. Overall, I don’t think the show is quite for me, for a variety of reasons, but WOW can Kwon Hyuk convey desire. The pure want dripping off of him when he allows himself to let his mask drop. (And there are no dead fish kisses here, no sirree! I think we were worried suspicious last week because it looked like they were using fancy camera angles to hide bad kisses, but, uh, they do not need to do that.)

I am excited about the new complications introduced at the end though! Was the logo on the pen a connection to Seung Hyun’s college crush, Yoo Seong? (Would I recognize it if I’d been paying more attention?) What is Jong Chan’s relationship with Yoo Seung’s anyway? And who is the mysterious person Yoo Seung is in love with? (You can see I have a bit of second lead syndrome going on. He’s just so pretty.)

Needless to say, I’m going to keep watching despite my reservations, because I want to find out all the answers! And because I suspect that Seung Hyun and Jong Chan will change quite a bit over the course of the story, and I’m curious to see who they become.

My other favorite thing is continues to be how explicitly queer this show is, as @heretherebedork says here (and other places).

I had decided to keep this post positive, but I can’t resist complaining. Or at least talking about the parts that aren’t working for me. Besides my general struggles with the ad agency office setting, which I’ve complained about anytime anything like it comes up, I’m just not that into a smiley eager puppy of a protagonist. It’s why I didn’t connect as much with Choco/Jungwoo in Choco Milk Shake, it’s probably part of the reason PayuRain never worked for me. And Seung Hyun is more complex than just an eager intern, but I’m still not really connecting with him. And part of that is that it feels like his eagerness and shyness compounds the already sizable power difference between the two. Which, given the ending, I suspect that dynamic will be upended soon, but it did make watching this episode less interesting to me because I wasn’t really feeling their connection. Which I realize is a me thing, and other people enjoy that kind of power dynamic much more. I felt Jong Chan’s physical attraction for sure, and Seung Hyun’s admiration (hero worship perhaps?) but I’m not really sure what they like about each other. I guess it just feels like they don’t actually know each other yet. Which I suppose might be the point, at this moment of their arc. Lee Boem even said basically as much, that this awkward getting to know each other stage is fun. So I think I’ve talked myself around to appreciating how their courtship is being depicted, at least intellectually. If this is just the calm before the storm, if it’s actually setting them up for a crisis that deepens their relationship, then it works.

Perhaps the problem is that everything about their date seemed stressful to me. Watching them sitting alone in a dark, cold (it looked like the kind of place that would be over air conditioned) fancy restaurant, too nervous to have a real conversation, made me want to walk out of there on Seung Hyun’s behalf. Not that he wanted to leave, I was just projecting. And if we count the ad pitch as a second date, which I think we can since it was clearly part of their courting, well, that seems even more miserable. But again, very much a me thing, the characters were clearly thrilled by it.

The other thing I struggle with is the interjections in of the manwha comic that’s telling Seung Hyun’s story as he’s living it? I don’t understand the purpose of these fourth wall breaks, or fantasy elements, or whatever it’s supposed to be, and so I just find them annoying. Like, it doesn’t feel so far like it’s connected to anything else in the story, or helping Seung Hyun learn something, or otherwise is meaningful, just like they’re trying to be cute. It doesn’t help that I don’t like most manwha/comic/manga drawing styles, including thus one, and I’d rather spend the time on the actors’ faces.

And, like many Korean BL, the run time is just too short for the story they’re trying to tell, so it leaves things feeling rushed and unfinished. Alas.

Despite all my criticisms, I am very curious to see where this goes, so I will keep watching. And, as I said above, there are many things I like, I just needed to get my complaints off my chest.

(oh, and the sound effects! (one last complaint and then I'll stop for real.) I continue to not be a fan of comedic sound effects, although these at least are well matched and timed. I think its part of the same issue as the vaguely supernatural manwha; the show is going for a comedic slapstick one when I want a bit more seriousness from it. I'm very particular about slapstick, I love it when well executed, but it annoys me when not, and I have a high threshold for well executed. Kabe Koji is the only thing I can remember recently succeeding for me in that regard.)

[winderlylandchime]

Hello. We are now officially in the cheating phase. And a lot happened over few days: 1/2 2x18: ‘oh look, Blondie is back..are we finally done with the dramatics? Brian..i mean it’s not like this isn’t a new thing but damn this isn’t gonna help, is it? Boys, come on just kiss and make up.’ He just sighed and flopped back on the couch because Ben and Mikey came up but he is a little worried about Ben. ‘YOU HOPED HE WOULD SURPRISE YOU BUT YOU DIDNT EVEN TELL HIM YOURE GOING?! JUSTIN COME ON COMMON SENSE!!! Daphne knock some sense into him! WHY IS THERE VIOLIN MUSIC WHY?!?! NO NO NO NO NOOOO. GET FUCKED MY DUDE! Justin come on!! This is pure bullshit, wipe that fucking smile off your face, this shit isn’t even impressive, blah blah blah blah how do you not puke when you say these things’ Ethan says his “pretty good, I’m a genius” line to which my brother scoffed and went ‘my man, your IQ wouldn’t even register as an earthquake so humble yourself..oh they’ve been telling you that since you were 6? WELL GET FUCKED because I am here to deliver some news for you, you ain’t shit!’ He just paused the tv and is hysterically laughing ‘First off my man, back the fuck up, nobody needs to feel your breath while you talk and second of all *in a mocking voice* it comes through you? Justin come the fuck on, you can’t seriously fall for this bullshit. (Ethan points to the garbage truck) oh look, your ride is here, now hop on and fuck off.’ He is currently livid about George and Emmett but he is also angry at Ethan and he can’t decide which one to focus on. ‘Ben, no offense but I don’t have the time for you. I gotta knock some sense into Justin…He has a tummy ach- oh there goes Ben, fuck!’ ‘HE MADE HIM CARRY A GARBAGE COUCH TO THE TOP FLOOR? Justin, push him down the stairs. Where the fuck is Brian because i am sick of this shit. Justin, i know a way cooler place..one that doesn’t have a couch infested by bugs..i hate his accent when he pronounces fancy shit. Like we get it dude you jerk off to your violin, NOW GET OFF MY TV!..Justin stop talking shit about Brian. This isn’t cute, he NEVER speaks badly about you. That’s right fucker! They LIVE TOGETHER!…oh this goatee fucker is jealous of Brian’s job and loft and everything else. Good. Eat shit. *mocks Ethan again* how about you practice practice practice fucking off because I’m tired tired tired *pauses the tv and looks at me* just so you know, i wanted to tell him to jump off a bridge but decided not to cause that might be a bit much for now. NO JUSTIN YOU WILL NOT SEE HIM AROUND BECAUSE WE HAVE RULES AND BRIAN AND RULES THAT YOU MADE. Did he invite Brian to that art thingy? He better! I need Brian to see him and laugh in his face!’ ‘AHHH BRIAN AND JUSTIN! Justin, baby, clearly his work is stressful right now and you can tell. Stop being insulted cause your grown man with a job has a job to worry about. Also your day was full of that fucker so maybe shush! Justin…did you think about Brian when you were carrying that ugly couch? *another pause* What’s with the moping? I get that he was sad cause of Vermont which btw, he acted dumb on that one so that is fully his own fault. But this *waves his hand at Justin on tv* is bullshit. I raised you better than that. OH I WONDER WHY YOUR TRIP WASNT FUN WITHOUT HIM? You are so dumb, i love you so much Blondie but you’re so dumb. SO YOU DIDNT THINK HED CARE THAT YOU LEFT BUT YOU TOLD DAPHNE THAT YOU WAITED FOR HIM?! HOW ABOUT TALKING? You are running in circles and I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND. Of course he missed you, stop being a little bitch. OH DAMN..WHILE THEY STAND?! OH COME ON BEN WHAT A FUCKING COCKBLOCK’ He now paused the tv and went outside for a cigarette. This man is about to hit midlife crisis and we aren’t even 20 minutes in. ‘Okay Michael, what are we measuring here? Everyone needs someone. Oh look its the art thingy!! Where is Brian? OH FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?! I take it back, go jump off a bridge IM EXHAUSTED-Daphne, my girl! Please, I am begging you, please don’t like him! Pleaseeeee!’

Oh dear sweet anon, we're really in it now. Thoughts and prayers to you and your brother.

(Ethan points to the garbage truck) oh look, your ride is here, now hop on and fuck off. HA! Your brother is right.

how about you practice practice practice fucking off because I’m tired tired tired *pauses the tv and looks at me* just so you know, i wanted to tell him to jump off a bridge but decided not to cause that might be a bit much for now I LOVE how careful your brother is with his insults.

HOW ABOUT TALKING? <- every fan of this show ever

Oh boy oh boy. I know it only goes downhill from here...

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s CMA-

I’m already planning to yell at you and I haven’t even started the chapter yet. in preparation: DREAM WHAT THE FUCK. Okay now that that’s out of the way, im going to go read it.

Ugh I hate her dad so much.

Aw sister bonding! And their aunt and uncle being protective; you love to see it.

I don’t love the idea that Josie thinks that part of the reason clover got married is to protect herself from their parents because I’m worried she’ll say that to Benedict and crush him. I mean he already thinks that she’s only with him to avoid angering the ton but still.

FUCK CLOVER DONT LIE TO HIM. YOU NEED TO TALK TO HIM!!!!!!!!!! DONT TRY TO PROTECT HIS FEELINGS PROTECT YOURSELF. Ugh Ben is going to be so upset when he finds out.

Going from holding her own wrist out of fear to squeezing his for reassurance (for his or hers, I couldn’t really say). I love the thought that instead of squeezing hands or whatever they squeeze each other’s wrists. The entire concept is so poetic I just-

SCREAMING FUCK CLOVER NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO FUCK NO NO NO NO DONT SELF DESTRUCT FUCK FUCK FUCK

(I am hoping and praying that she has more of the seeds somewhere but I am so scared. This is going to crush Ben and her when she realizes what she’s done)

I wonder if instead of a party, it was a nice dinner for the two of them because he noticed she was sad….

Fuckkkk Ben didn’t come home?????? This is so devastating dream fuck no. I’m not even done reading and I’m already screaming for the next chapter

Shit she’s tearing him apart. Holy fuck clover I get that you’re stressed but for the love of god shut the fuck up.

Look I love to commend you for your ability to write drama and emotional scenes without making it a soap opera which is still definitely the case, but this is so much worse than a soap opera. This feels like being personally stabbed in the gut over and over and over again.

This is painful and raw and personal and emotional and tragic. My heart is absolutely aching for them right now. And the absolute whiplash that Ben went through………. He’s going to be a wreck

I actually think that contrary to what clover thinks that he will actually stop creating art because he’ll be too upset, which I think would be a really interesting twist. Instead of the pain she causes being the reason for her art, she’ll have to realize that it’s because of the joy she brings to his life.

And it’s true that by any measure he’s had an easier life than her, but to say that his pain and suffering isn’t just as valid is so cruel and invalidating; suffering is not a competition.

Also Ben has been through a lot. Besides the obvious part of his dad dying, he’s constantly being told how he’s the spare, how he’s second string and not as important.

He’s being told that how he loves his life doesn’t really matter compared to Anthony. He’s like the personification of the ‘nothing matters (/pos) vs nothing matters (/neg)’. I’m sure he’s struggled with the latter at some points as well. Even when he’s come to terms with it, there are still moments like when Anthony went to the duel where he has a crisis of faith.

Ugh idk why you said we might be mad at Ben…. Maybe in future chapters but def not this one. I can exactly blame clover but I’m kind of going to blame clover….

CMA hi darliiiing! ❤️

Lolll oh I knew you would be yelling at me for sure 😂

Josie and Clover will always be there for each other❤️ So will their aunt and uncle ❤️

Oh I don't think Josie thinks that or will tell Benedict that, no worries🥰 She thinks Clover married for love, but still thinks it's also an advantage that she married especially now that her parents can't drag her back to their home 😏

Squeezing wrist thing yeeees! ❤️ It's their way of holding hands and it'll be adorable 🥰

I think she planted all the seeds in the vase actually 😏 Buuut will the gardener throw the vase away? 😏 Or will he keep it?😁

Nopeeee, he was too busy partying so he didn't come home 😈

Clover did NOT hold back 💔

Omg darliiiing this is so sweet of you! ❤️ I really enjoy angst and it's wonderful to hear that I could reflect those emotions ❤️😍

That would definitely be an interesting twist and it would shock Clover! 😱

And it’s true that by any measure he’s had an easier life than her, but to say that his pain and suffering isn’t just as valid is so cruel and invalidating; suffering is not a competition. This is so true!

But Clover thinks it is 😏 That's what she told Benedict about her and Josie's childhood, how Josie had it worse than her 💔 So I think she made herself believe it, and now that she snapped, she ended up saying all that to Benedict 💔

And that's another thing Clover needs to realize, that Benedict's life wasn't "perfect" even if it looked like it was ❤️

They will both be so so heartbroken in the next chapter 😏😈

Thank you so so much for this! ❤️❤️❤️

[untitled-smp]

Broadcast #07 - Progress - WZRD Verdigris Radio

In the heart of the Corroded faction, an enigmatic man, better known as the Wizard, releases his first radio broadcast to the world. We hope you’ll become a listener.

This week’s song is “Sun Moth” by Fever the Ghost

< =o= >

"So sorry! The tapes of the most recent broadcasts from the past few months have just been sitting on my desk, instead of being mailed to you to be digitized. I'll be sending them all over to you right now, I'm so so sorry." -- WZRD's Audio Archivist

< =o= >

WZRD Verdigris Radio is written, produced, and edited by @theecryptiid.

The Wizard is voiced by Cass theecryptiid.

< =o= >

[Previous | Next]

[Transcript below the cut]

Good afternoon listeners! It’s the first of many hot days here in Verdigris, which I’m happy to say I haven’t had to deal with much as I’ve been hard at work getting a special project together. We’ve been putting together a group of gazebos to represent the three different factions that have emerged in the past year, and it is my hope that it means we will be able to work together as a group to achieve some semblance of peace.

I don’t entirely know why we ended up splintering off into these three different groups, I think it’s mostly because of the stress we were under in the inbetween of the old world to this one. Those of us who grouped up to keep ourselves sane during that process seemed to keep the same allegiances when we emerged into safety. 

Corroded, Malfunction, and Wisteria, what a group of folks. Could not be more different, and are yet, still very much the same. I feel like we forget, being so close to one another, why we are the same, what we have in common. What we are, every day, hiding from. [sighs], I’m sorry listeners, it’s just this time of year reminds me where we were last year, and all of the trials and tribulations we went through. [laughs sadly], This time…uh this time last year we were trying to make peace with an Unknown, and look where that got us. For those of you who don’t remember or weren’t around…well it got my home blown to smithereens, and irradiated with all manner of dark corruption.

I digress. All of this is to say, I worry about that, about it happening again and the fact that we could do very little to stop it last time. I’ve got some plans, been talking to some members of other factions who I’m friendly with, and they agree we’ve gotta make some sort of agreement between us, make sure that there’s no infighting that might distract us from the things that wish us harm. 

[pause, chuckle], as you can probably tell I’ve had a lot of time to think while chopping down and stripping birch and oak for this building. I’ve missed the hard work somewhat, but my old body definitely does not, my back and arms were aching yesterday!

Oh, hey! Was that? Oh yes it was, just saw Flick flying in, probably to pick up some stuff from Verde Drug. Speaking of him actually, he brought me the results of the election just yesterday! Seems Doc is the new president of Wisteria, so congratulations to him. In my opinion he will make a strong, firm leader who will work well under the happenstance of a crisis.

Alright, well, before I head off to go bring Joco some dinner where they’re hard at work on the pit under the gazebos, I’ll leave you with one last tune before my audio archivist takes over spinning the discs for the evening. 

[houkagokappa]

It’s Monday and I’m exhausted. I didn’t get to rest on the weekend, because I had uni work and chores to keep me busy for most of it. I also celebrated my sister’s birthday with my family, which I have mixed feeling on, since my sister was late for it by two hours. I could’ve used those two hours to wind down and just exist as myself, but instead I spent them annoyed at her being late, worried something might’ve happened, anxious not knowing what was going on and irritated because I hadn’t eaten anything since the morning and had gotten incredibly hungry. My sister’s habitually late, but she usually lets us know how late she’ll be and this time around we got radio silence. When she finally picked up (an hour later) it turned out that she overslept because she spent the entire night (until 8 am) helping a friend who was dealing with “a crisis”, and once she went to sleep she forgot to set an alarm. I can’t even be mad at her for being late because she did the right thing helping a friend in need (8 am might seem excessive, but sometimes that’s life and I’m not about to question the validity of someone's crisis).

I had a good time once she got to my parents place, but it is really frustrating how she continues to show no respect for us and our time, especially this week and last week when I’ve had to push myself to make the schedules work. One of the things that annoy me the most is how she’s never cared to put the effort in for us, “that’s just how she is and we should plan around it”, even though she’s entered an industry where the working hours are strict and she doesn’t seem to have any problems following those or going above and beyond to help her friends. I guess this stems from/adds to the bigger issue where I feel like I’m not important enough to be worth that extra effort (although I’m super close to my sister so it’s not like she doesn’t appreciate me).

It also really sucks how I’ve gotten a lot of great news lately, and I’m currently doing an internship that I’ve dreamed about for ages, but I’m still stressed and exhausted. My life is supposed to be “good” right now, so why don’t I feel that way? The answer is because I overwork myself, which is frustrating, since I’m too much of a perfectionist to spend less time on tasks (double, triple, quadruple checking everything before I turn in any assignments) and I have been working less weekly hours than what’s intended for the internship, so it feels like I should be able to deal with this much, if not more.

I mentioned being exhausted to my dad and his response was “welcome to the working life”, which was irritating since 1) this is not my first job/it’s not even a job, so it’s not like this is my first experience with working life, and 2) he doesn’t have a bunch of extra uni work and a single person household to run at the same time. I pointed that out to him, but he claimed to still think about work during his weekends (which is probably true to some degree, but it’s still not the same). My parents are lovely people and they do help me out a lot with different things, but they’ve never understood my mental health struggles (which, to be fair, I hide for the most part). They probably don’t think I have any anymore, since I’m doing all these things now, so it feels like I get very little sympathy for my troubles. I’m also worried that my life’s always going to be this way, with me not having as much energy as I used to have/ want to have/ feel like I’m expected to have. Like I’ve come a long way, but life’s still kinda shit :/

...

I have to remember to be kinder towards myself. I’ll schedule in time for my uni assignments and I’ll take it away from the hours I’d spend on my internship (since they allow me to come and go as I please), so that I’ll have the evenings off. I’ll attend events only if I feel like I’m up for it, I’m not going to force myself to attend just because something’s organized and it sounds fun. I’ve been doing better, but I still need to remind myself to take it easy.

[toehwa6]

Here’s a memory that popped into my head

This is speech, so sorry this is annoying

But anyway

So my little brother died from a heart attack when I was 17 and I was the one that found him and my mom started doing CPR and I called the police or 911

And this thing that sticks with me from that along with a few other things is that the 911 operator was so rude to me in that moment

I remember just begging for somebody to show up and help and you know I’m a little freaked out at that moment because you know what’s going on lol

But I’m like begging for help begging I mean, I over and over if somebody’s coming

This fucking guy gives me a smart comment like he says they’re on their way and then I ask like two more times and he basically told me to shut the fuck up

Like bro, that sucked and if I was in a better state of mind, I probably would’ve filed a complaint or something, but the thing that bothers me the most that whenever I hear somebody’s experience with one of these people it’s always horrible

I could imagine your job is pretty stressful, but I also imagine that you have to have some sort of training on how to deal with people who are in crisis no matter what honestly look at the job you’re doing

But yeah, I think about that sometimes

I recently spoke to my psychiatrist about that moment, and I feel like it was the first time I was ever able to get upset about it, which was odd

But I talked about it with him, and I told him that I don’t think I ever really got to process anything because my main concern was how the person I was talking to was going to handle the information

Like all these problems like when back pain or dead or you know shit shit like that people immediately just like freak out or make that face

But yeah, it seems like I was too focused on others to even attempt to say how I really felt

So that was nice I psychiatrist

Just wanted to say that bunch of things have been going on

Was very odd to get compliments and not have this thought in my mind of OK cool but I’m still a piece of shit though right

So that’s a pretty crazy experience

I also noticed now that I hear song lyrics and sketch jokes in my mind casually instead of worrying and wanting to kill myself all the time

Very weird experience

I don’t know. I’m just trying to enjoy it.

Thanks I’m gonna try and write more

Who am I writing to lol

Me, me, me, me, me, Mimi

Yeah, that was speech to text how that makes you feel

[chasing-rabbits]

After meeting with my psychiatrist my new one I’ve managed to take my meds every single day for I think I’m at like over a week now that���s for sure I’d have to go get my med packet to check and I’m being lazy but the point is I’ve not missed a single dose for over a week I haven’t been able to go a single week without missing a dose since well since the pandemic really probably before that tbh. I’m not 100% sure because the year before the pandemic started I was discharged from my MH unit and had to start a PAL’s complaint and it was all a bit ajslkajdl and they left me on medication that caused a major manic relapse so my recall of that time isn’t exactly brilliant and the medication they left me on was only making me worse.

Giving a Bipolar patient anti depressants and nothing else is going to guarantee they have a manic relapse so yeah and then mid summer they eventually took me back and got me on the medication I’m on now but it took awhile to kick in because it doesn’t actually stop manic episodes so I had just wait til I’d transitioned out of my mania before they actually did anything it’s a preventative as I understand it but from what I was told at the time at least because I was mid mania that it’s not gonna like stop that particular manic cycle now idk if that’s because the meds don’t work like that or maybe it’s because a lot of these meds often take at least a month or more to even kick in and well I’d already been manic for many months at that point and as someone who doesn’t usually have mania for more than 3months I’d already gone past the point so idk if they were assuming I’d be coming out of it soon anyways before the meds could be in my system enough to actually work idk I’m pretty sure its the former and not the latter but hey ho. So yeah that was a long winded way of saying holy shit it’s been 2 years since I’ve managed to consistently take my meds and I’m pretty proud of myself right now this is a big achievement for me I also realised I think I struggled so much because of my old psychiatrist. I always put it down to depression because over the pandemic I lost two grandparents and had a lot of other family health issues going on amongst some other rather horrific events so it was a LOT of stress on me at the time but the thing is it’s still been pretty stressful lately and whilst I’m in a better home environment as I am now no longer living with my abusive dad I’ve had other worries because I’m now no longer living with my abusive dad in the middle of a cost of living crisis trying to figure out how to afford everything on benefits. Plus I spent an entire week in Spain last month dealing with all the responsibility of trying to find my granddad a care home so the hospital would release him as his condition has deteriorated quite a bit - he’s been on dialysis a while he’s had ongoing health issues so it’s not anything new but he is getting a lot worse but he lost his wife/my grandma last year very suddenly to cancer so it’s understandable he’s not coping so great rn.

So it’s not like the stress of family illness has gone either which made me realise I think some of my issues taking my medications stemmed from a severe lack of trust in my psychiatrist and I say this because I am someone who has had really severe side effects on EVERY mental health medication I’ve EVER been on and had side effects that you shouldn’t even get on such low doses and when I’d brought some concerns up with him about my current meds he went off at me rather aggressively about how I dared to ask him questions or question the meds he was giving me because he’s the professional and im here to see him - irony is I was asking the question because my first psychiatrist was very adamant he’d never put me on an anti seizure medication EVER due to some family history medical stuff so I was asking/concerned about why he was putting me on these meds and clarifying something with regards to risks these meds have based on my family history. I think after that and his lack of ever listening to me like I would report about how I was getting xyz side effects so I didn’t wanna up the meds and his immediate response was ‘How about we up ‘x’ medication’ he obviously was zoned out the entire time i was talking to him this was during the pandemic so it was all phone call appointments at first bcos they’d not set up video calling yet. This created a distrust especially because this came after the events in 2019 where I was discharged whilst manic and honestly that was such a traumatic time for me. So I was already wary of any new psychiatrist I was gonna have after that even and he didn’t help matters at all he was cold showed no empathy and really most of the time didn’t listen to what I had to say. This new psychiatrist took me off a bunch of medications that were not helping my anxiety or bpd which my old psych new because he then prescribed me something else but never removed the old meds which idk why tbh from my prescription so I just got more and more meds piled onto me with more and more side effects that were often already more prominent/severe because I’m so damn sensitive to medications.

Being taken off the anti depressants has made a BIG difference not so much in that they were making my mental health worse (they caused major heartburn issues to the point I was having to take more than the recommended dose of my meds for it and so far I’m not sure that’s changed yet so who knows if that’s permanent because long term use of these heart burn meds can do damage to your stomach anyways so its just circular). But it more so made a big difference to my mindset I guess I was feeling shitty I had so many meds and I had all that shit with the old psych as well I’d lost hope I guess in the system & I was taking meds that did nothing for me so it was hard to be motivated to take any of them at all tbh. But now I got to see that new psych he went over the things I’d been wanting to ask the old one about risks of ‘xyz’ stuff and I felt confident in him and his answers and my ability to trust him. So that made me feel a bit more relaxed and less worried about taking them and because in the end he decided to remove more medications from me than even I’d been asking for and instead decided to just leave me on the one med that has been working for my Bipolar. And I know I talked about that before about how happy I was with him and the way he works but yeah I’m just happy I’ve been able to take my meds for an entire week and more now. Although I’ll be honest I originally opened this post up to vent about how despite being on these meds again I’m still having a super depressed day today which okay these meds aren’t for the bpd although they can help some people with bpd too. Also I’m only just back on them but like as much as I’m happy I’m back on my medication again for my bipolar I’m still suffering with the bpd and I’ve still got some concerns about private therapy more so issues with my dad and stuff as opposed to the therapy itself. Although I heard back from the therapist yesterday and she’s gonna let me know when a spot opens up which will hopefully be soon I imagine not til the new year sometime though but hoping it’s not longer than like Easter time because I’ve been wanting/needing this for awhile now and I’ll obviously wait as long as I need to but yeah I just hope it’s not too long a wait. And hopefully by then my dad will be on board with everything and not create any issues or drama about it all.

[skittlesfics]

name: company ink pairing: Argyle x Reader word count: 3010 summary: During a bad shift at the pizza shop, Argyle offers to smoke you out. contents/warnings: tits, weed usage, vague descriptions of being high, tagged smut for sexual content but no actual sex, mostly fluff author's note: okay I was going to post the request, and then I remembered this idea kicking around and I had to get it out. Something the tiniest bit spicier, may be potential for a part two read part 2 here

- You huffed as you hung up the phone, yet another irate customer yelling about prices that you had zero control over. Some days you had a lot of fun at this job, and others you were this close to throwing in your thematic Hawaiian shirt and visor for something less soul-sucking.

“That’s not the happy face I’m looking for.” Argyle popped into view from around the corner as if to remind you of why you stayed at this place, his empty delivery bag dangling from one shoulder as he returned from the most recent round of deliveries. He was lucky; another driver had just taken the newest stack, leaving him an actual break from driving for once. You wrinkled your nose at him and leaned back against the wall, your head hitting the shitty bulletin board with more force than you had intended.

“Don’t give me that ‘smile’ bullshit today, Argyle, I’ll scream.” You said, closing your eyes against the impending stress headache. The regret set in immediately. You felt gross, snapping at your one work friend like that, but you were just about at your limit, and you didn’t need anyone prodding at you further. Not even your cute coworker who occasionally sold you weed.

“Whoa, man.” You heard Argyle’s footsteps and thought he was leaving, but just as quickly as they receded, they returned, coming towards you behind the counter now.

“Need a smoke? I’m out of purple palm tree delight, but I scored some black triangle kush that’ll get you real mellow.” He sounded about as concerned as Argyle was capable of, which only made you feel more guilty for snapping at him. You pressed your lips together, opening your eyes to see the dark-haired boy looking at you with genuine concern. Fuck.

“It’s just been a rough day, I’m sorry. I’ll be okay. I honestly don’t have the spare cash for weed right now.” You normally used your tips to get enough weed from Argyle to make it through the rough days, but your last few shifts had been pretty stingy and you had your half of an electric bill to worry about this week.

Argyle’s brow knitted together thoughtfully, and you swallowed a thought about how adorable he was when he tried to think, especially when he was already toasted.

“I could smoke you out, if you wanna take your break now. We’re friends, you don’t always have to pay.” He offered. He shifted his delivery bag off his shoulder and dumped it onto the counter like it was a done deal. You chewed your bottom lip, glancing between him and the phone.

“I don’t want to put you out. You can’t give away weed every time a girl is in crisis. I can pay you later, or make it up to you somehow?” You offered guiltily. Argyle simply shrugged and gestured for you to follow him outside.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You hesitated only long enough to yell that someone in the kitchen would have to grab the phone and scurried behind him, eager for any sort of stress relief.

-

You shifted awkwardly in your seat as Argyle rolled a joint in front of you. He was explaining the differences between this strain and his usual one, but you were only half listening, your eyes following the expert movements of his fingers.

“… hybrid, so it might make you a little sleepy, but you’ll definitely be more relaxed. I always get cotton mouth, but I didn’t give the last house their pepsi since they yelled at you on the phone, so you can drink that if you need it.”

You nodded along as if you were listening. He twisted the end of the joint and admired his own rolling job before holding it up to his mouth to light. You had always been attracted to your coworker, but “don’t shit where you eat” had been heavily ingrained in your mind from the drama at your first job. You were doing your best to respect that, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t look. He held the joint between his lips, using one hand to shield it from non-existent wind and the other to light the end with his lighter. He let the twisted paper burn down, taking a few puffs to draw the flame into the weed, and then offered it to you.

You tried not to think about the slight dampness from where he had kept the filter in his mouth for too long as you took a long pull, holding the smoke in your lungs for a few moments before exhaling.

He still hadn't given you a way to repay him, but you didn't bring it up yet as you returned the joint carefully pinched between pointer finger and thumb. He took it with ease, eyes trained on your face as he leaned back to take a hit. He inhaled deeply, holding for a beat before exhaling through his mouth and nose, smoke pouring from him like some sort of fancy incense holder. 

You couldn't help but laugh, grinning as he broke into a smile. 

"That's it. There's my smile. Consider your debt paid in full." He said cheerfully, reaching out to gently pat your cheek. His touch shouldn't have burned the way it did, but then, none of the way you felt around Argyle made any sense. You shouldn't get jealous when he told you stories of customers flirting with him. You shouldn't hang on to his every word. You shouldn't mope around the pizza parlor until he comes in from each delivery with some story or snippet of something that he thought might cheer you up. You really, really shouldn't shit where you eat.

You let him place the joint between your lips, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed gently against your lips as he pulled away. You were sure you imagined the slight intake of breath on his part, the way his eyes lingered on your lips, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed before tearing his eyes away. 

Fuck, the weed was hitting quick if you were already this horny. You took another hit, inhaling slowly and holding the smoke in your mouth for a second before breathing it into your lungs. You exhaled, feeling yourself start to melt into the floor of the van. Argyle took the joint as carefully as he had placed it, dropping it into the ashtray he kept on hand.

"I don't think a smile is enough to pay you for weed, Argyle." You slurred lazily, flicking your eyes up to gaze at him through thick lashes. You didn't remember when you laid down fully, but there he was, sitting upright and towering over you. 

"No?" He asked, still smiling. Argyle was always smiling. That was one of the things you liked so much about him. You reached up and poked his cheek, grinning when it made his smile widen. 

"No." You repeated, shaking your head slightly. He shifted closer, his leg bumping up against yours as he made himself comfortable. There was a brief silence as your brain processed the new input and he just watched you, waiting. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him.

"What would be enough to pay me for weed?" He asked, finally. You hummed. The logical part of your brain was telling you to stop now, that he might reject you and that would be awkward and you couldn't get a new job quickly if this went sour because you got frisky after a little weed.

The less logical side of your brain was telling you that you knew the way he looked at you. How his eyes lingered when you stretched to get the boxes from the top shelf, your shirt slipping up to reveal the slightest bit of skin. How he always looked your way when he made a joke to be sure that you were laughing. How he undercharged you for weed, or slipped extra in the bag when you weren't looking. You liked that side much better. 

You played with the collar of your shirt as you considered the best way to answer, not missing the way his eyes followed your hand and then drifted down before deliberately, dutifully returning to your face. 

"Remember that delivery to the apartments down Oakside last Tuesday, 3A?" You asked. You watched his face as he thought back, trying to count the days backwards to remember what you meant. His lips moved silently as he thought, mouthing the pizza orders of the places he remembered. You couldn't help but smile at his moment of realization, the tips of his ears growing a deep red at the memory. Large white pie, extra sausage.

"You mean the one with the..." he mimed opening a robe, his eyes slightly wide as the implications of your words slammed into him all at once. "No way, dude, you don't have to..." He trailed off. His eyes were already drifting back down, Adam's apple bobbing with the force of his nervous swallowing. 

You smiled and gave him a slight nod, fingers already fiddling with the first button on your work shirt. 

"That's the one. I think you said something about a pizza costing more than just a look." You teased, moving on to the next button when the first finally popped open. "Does that apply to weed, too?"

Argyle's lips parted like he was about to say something, eyebrows knitted together as he grappled over what to say, but no words came out. He blinked hard, shaking his head slightly like he was making sure you were really there, then he looked down at the joint, inspecting it for anything he hadn't added. 

"Argyle?"

"If it's for the weed, you don't have to." He repeated, his voice high with nervousness. You had one button left, and you made quick work of it, letting your shirt rest, partially open, on your chest. You felt incredible. High, powerful, sexy, bold... You could take on the world, if the world were the cute boy sitting with his mouth slightly open across from you. The world around him was hazy, tilting slowly, but that didn't matter when you felt like this.

"I want to." This was stupid. This was brilliant. This was ridiculous. This was... everything. You couldn't decide as he shifted next to you, moving closer like he was waiting for you to take it back. "Aren't you curious?" 

You could tell from the way he looked at you that he was more than curious. Maybe he was hoping for this, or something like this. Maybe this hadn't been the first time he thought about you in the back of his delivery van. Maybe he wanted more than you were even offering him right now. He said none of that out loud, his fingers gingerly finding the edges of your shirt and pushing them apart, inch by inch. 

The fabric was silky against your bare chest, the whisper of friction sending chills across your skin. You wondered if, this close, he could tell your heart was pounding in your chest, leaping at his careful touch. The places his fingers grazed against you were impossibly warm and the sensation of his skin on yours was nearly enough to send you spiraling. His eyes flickered between your face and your chest, searching for any sign of reluctance. Finding none, he finally just pulled your shirt open, a small groan falling from his lips at the sight of your bare tits beneath him.

"You are, like, unreal." He mumbled, his eyes devouring the sight of you like you were going to disappear. You flushed under the intensity of his gaze, fighting the urge to cover yourself or pull your shirt closed again. Your head was spinning in an entirely different way now, the weed paling in comparison to what Argyle was making you feel right now. You watched as he wet his lips with his tongue, goosebumps forming across your skin at the thought of what he might do with that. 

You took a breath, watching him as he watched the rise and fall of your chest, memorizing the curves of your torso as you just existed. Argyle had always been cute, but the way he looked at you made you ache for him. The world was hazy and soft, the weed having filed off all the hard edges, and yet Argyle was the only thing in sharp focus. You smiled, reaching for his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he took yours just as easily. You pulled it towards you, dropping it only inches away from the swell of your breast. 

"More than a look, right?" You breathed and the look he gave you would have melted you if you weren't already there. You were playing coy, but you were practically begging for his touch, laid out all pretty beneath him like you belonged there. Even just sitting there, not moving, his touch sent flames across your skin, quickening your breath and making you desperate. 

"You're sure?" Argyle was in just as much of a state, his face a dark red, breath coming heavy and deliberate. He shifted uncomfortably, cock straining against the rough denim of his jeans in a way that neither of you could ignore. If you'd had doubts before they were gone now, replaced only with the desire for him to just touch you already. 

"Don't make me beg." That was enough to get him moving, shifting to his knees like he had only been waiting for you to say the word. His hands were rough, calloused, awkward, but they felt so fucking good as he finally cupped your breasts, fingers pressing in slightly as he experimented with a gentle squeeze. You inhaled sharply, your back arching slightly into his touch and he took the encouragement for what it was.

He touched you carefully, experimenting to find the things that made you gasp, that made you look at him like you wanted more. It was when he leaned in, lips parted, pupils blown wide with desire that you knew you were a fucking goner. "Can I?"

You almost cursed at him for asking, reaching up to thread your fingers into the thick curtain of his hair and pull him closer to your chest. He smoothed one steadying hand across your abdomen and leaned in, his breath fanning across your nipple in a way that already had you shivering. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to press a hot, warm, kiss to the side of your breast. You moaned, the sound floaty and distant to your high mind. If his fingers were warm, his mouth was searing, leaving you needy and breathless as he decorated your chest with open-mouthed kisses, lips and teeth and tongue seeking out all the sensitive places his fingers had mapped out before.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your body arching into him as he came tantalizingly close to one of your nipples and then kissed around it, sucking at the skin just under where you wanted his mouth most. If it were anyone but Argyle, you would've thought it was a deliberate ploy to make you needy, pliant under him. It worked anyway, your brain swimming with want for him, his mouth, his fingers, his everything. 

When he pulled away, he was enraptured, dark eyes trained on your body, lips slightly swollen from kissing your chest. Neither of you spoke for a moment, eyes trading questions about intentions rather than risking words. 

You were ready to speak, to ask when it happened. BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three sharp raps on the side of the van that sent you scrambling away from each other, nearly colliding in your haste. 

"Come on, Argyle, I can smell you in there." It was the other delivery driver, no doubt irate that he had been left to do back to back runs. 

"Uhhh," Argyle's voice came out thick and raspy, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. "Dude, my bad, lost track of time. New strain." He called out, eyes not leaving you as the excuse fell easily from his lips. You envied his composure, still struggling to rebutton your shirt under his scrutiny. 

"Whatever, just go pick up your pies, dude." The annoyance was clear even when muffled and tinny through the doors of the trunk. You bit your lip, casting Argyle a guilty look as you considered what chaos you might be returning to. He was all smiles, though, as he reached over to his ashtray and picked up the blunt, plucking it to place between his lips as if he hadn't missed a beat. He relit it and took a hit before replying.

"Alright. My bad, man. Won't happen again." He assured, passing you the blunt. You took a small hit and passed it back, exhaling for longer than needed in an attempt to calm yourself. Your body still felt like it was on fire with want for him, but you couldn't just say that when he seemed to bounce back to his normal, unbothered self. "Guess we have to get back." he intoned, just for you.

"Guess so." You responded breathlessly. He smiled guiltily and reached out to help you fix the button you had messed up, leaving a gape right at your cleavage. Somehow that's what made you squeeze your thighs together, shifting uncomfortably as he helped fix your clothes. 

"Maybe we could hang out later?" He offered, his eyes promising all the things he wasn't saying out loud. Or maybe that was just the weed and desire talking because right now all the bullshit warnings about getting involved with coworkers were far from thought, lost somewhere on the tip of Argyle's tongue, or perhaps in the palms of his hands, or in the gaze that darkened ever so slightly when his eyes fell on you again, contrasting his easy smile. 

"Yeah, maybe." 

[emmyrosee]

“Do ya ever wish ya never met me?”

His question came suddenly, the weight cutting through the tv show you’d been watching. It was quiet for a Saturday, Osamu had gone shopping with their mother for the day and in the stillness of the air, something must have stirred Atsumu’s brain into conjuring a story that wasn’t true.

Without looking from the documentary, you pop a few more pieces of popcorn into your mouth, “constantly. Why?” To amuse him, you throw a few kernels at his head, grinning to yourself when he grumbles and bats them away in your peripheral.

“I’m being serious.”

“I am, too.”

“Oh my god-“

“What has gotten into you?” You say, chuckling softly to hide your concern. “Neither of us has said a word for 45 minutes, I haven’t even made one joke about your brows- so what gives with the existential crisis and the pouting?”

He says nothing, and when you finally cast him a look, he looks… sad. He’s playing with the callouses adorning his hand, a nervous trait he’s developed, only dropping them in his lap when you swat it away with a “stop picking.”

“Where is this coming from, ‘Tsumu?” You ask finally, not finding enjoyment in his turmoil anymore. You pause the tv and place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, turning to face him and your heart squeezes at the sight.

He’s pouting, literally pouting his bottom lip out like a toddler, his eyes a little glassy and his nose flaring as he tries to keep any tears at bay. “‘Tsumu, you can tell me anything… what’s going on?” You reach out to lay your hand on his hair, fingers gently carding the blond locks soothingly; he’d always found comfort in it, and just by the look on his face, you knew he needed it.

“You know you can tell me anything, yeah?”

Atsumu bites his nail while his head angles into your touch, all before letting out a shaky sigh and casting you a look. “I just… I know ‘m not the most… coddl-y person in the world, so…”

“Well yeah, but it’s what makes you, you. You’re not coddl-y, you laugh when kids fall on their face, you steal my snacks after I tell you no, and I’m convinced you still don’t know my birthday- and it’s you. You’re Atsumu.”

“But don’t you think you deserve… better?”

“We’re not married, miya, if I wanted you gone, I’d be gone.”

He pouts and shuffled closer to you to rest his head on your shoulder, whining softly, “I just… think you should be with friends who make you feel good… like Aran, or… Suna, or Osamu-“

“Oh my god, are you dying?” You snicker, your arms wrapping around him to squeeze him lovingly, relieved it’s not anything too serious. “Atsumu, you really don’t have to worry about these things. I’m friends with ‘Samu, yes, he’s one of my best friends. But that has not much to do with you. You’re two different people, I don’t lump you both together, dude. And you do know I love Rintaro and Aran, sure, but they have their own ways of showing that they appreciate me. Just like you.” You hook a lock of hair behind his ear, “in your own ridiculous, freakish way.”

Still pouting, he curls up in your side and slowly closes his eyes, your fingers still carding his hair. “Don’t call me dude,” he grumbles, and you roll your eyes to try and hide the fact that his newly found affection and dropping of the topic is just one of those ways he shows you his appreciation.

“Youre a mean spirited, self absorbed, disturbed little weirdo,” you hum, giving his side a little squeeze, which he squawks and jerks away from. “But for whatever reason I decide to keep you around, you are still my best friend.”

The air is calmed around you both, the frown on his face finally being turned into a smile as he stays settled into your side. You know better to expect a thank you, but you know for a fact that this is how he shows his appreciation- he trusts you. He knows he can curl into your side and take a nap, or rest his head on your shoulder when he’s sad, he can reach for your hand when he’s stressed, all without fear of judgement. You want to tease him, you do, but for now, you let him indulge in the closeness and relish in your promise to be there for him no matter what.

“You need to take a shower,” he yawns out. “Ya fuckin’ reek.”

“Thanks, fuckface.”

It’s what best friends are for.

[yanderemommabean]

Hay mama can l have a crumb of a bit little random scenario of y0urb0yfriend pls ÓwÒ

“Sir, I don’t want to be rude or anything but it’s closing time” you say with as much irritation held back as possible. You weren’t trying to be seen as bitchy and unapproachable, it’s just these shifts are killing you and this guy. He’s just...you can tell something is off with him.

You’ve avoided talking to him ever since he came into the restaurant, wiping down tables and stocking up the most minute things to seem busy and to not be available for him specifically. His eyes always followed you though, as if he knew you were lying about what you were really up too.

But they held no real malice. If anything they held love and obsession. Which was just as unnerving as if he was angry and ready to murder, at least in your opinion.

“Babe you don’t have to act all professional with me” he said with a chuckle, as if you were acting cute. Babe? Jesus was this guys ego that inflated? Did he think he was some player? Disgusting.

“I’m not your babe” you said sternly, pointing to the clock “it’s time to leave. I have to clean up and you’re kinda preventing that”.

The man gives a soft pout, grabbing your hand as he reaches over the table. “Hey...was work that hard today? You look so angry and tired Y/N...anyway I can help?”. His hands clasped tighter over yours, tugging you down into the booth beside him as he gives a crazed smile “I would love to let you take your stress out on me! Anything you want, I’ll do it!”.

You begin to pull away and scoff, and your manager appears behind you with a skeptical expression. “I sure hope nothing funny is going on here” he said with a warning tone, flexing his fingers as his arms crossed over his chest. “Harassing my staff will get you banned you know?”.

You give a thankful nod as you head to the back, allowing the manager to handle everything as you tidy up and gather your senses. That man must be some junkie on some acid trip, why the fuck would he talk to you like you were his lover? It made your skin crawl.

You didn’t see how his smiley, easy going facade fell when your manager stepped in. His entire aura changed the minute you were out of sight, allowing him to show his darker side. “Leave my restaurant or I’ll use force” you heard your boss say, rolling your eyes at how macho he pretended to be. Even though he’s capable, you don’t think fighting is the best way to show who’s “alpha”.

The building goes silent after that, the jingling of the bell being the only sign that he could have gotten the message and left. Crisis averted you shrugged, and began your nightly duties while being blissfully unaware of the eyes watching you from the pitch black parking lot.

You looked so cute when working. That outfit, that professional tone, the way you acted as if you didn’t know him. You’re precious! There’s no need to be embarrassed though, he’s your boyfriend! He’s supposed to support you and be the one to rub your feet. And a little teasing here and there is healthy! Your cheeks look so cute painted pink!

He glared as your manager talked to you before you reached the doors that lead outside. He couldn’t tell what he was saying, only that you were agreeing and seeming more shaken up as he continued. What the hell was he saying?! Was he coming onto you? Threatening you?! Oh don’t you worry, that man will be long gone by sunrise if he has anything to do with it.

“Y/N. ‘M serious. I’ll take you home and move you to morning shift. That guy...he ain’t right” your manager warns, gaze falling to the windows that lead to the parking lot, as if he knew someone was still out there. “Please, I don’t want you hurt”.

“But what if you get hurt?” You counter, worrying your lip with your teeth as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe...maybe just follow me home and then we can discuss this further. Maybe police need to be involved”.

You both continue chatting, and you make your way to your car with shaking hands. You didn’t notice how he hid behind you, waiting for the tell tale sign of the doors unlocking before sliding in. He’s become a pro at timing, making sure to move in sync with you to get a ride to your house every now and again.

What? A boyfriend can’t give a surprise visit? Oh please! It’s fine! And it’s cute how clueless you are. It makes him so giddy to know how unaware you can be. He hunches in the back, facing the rear window as you drive through the empty streets, being followed by the very man who threatened him earlier.

God that guy is creepy! Your manager is clearly a stalker, and why wouldn’t he be? You’re a rare find that captures the darkest of hearts! But not to worry. Your boyfriend knows what he’s doing. If that creep tries to come inside your home, he’ll strike. Although he’s sure you’ll freak out, so some sleeping drugs might be needed. He’s got a stock of needles ready just for that occasion! He can’t have you fleeing from him as if he’d ever hurt you.

No no he’s protecting you! And if it takes a few drugs or a few days tied up to remember that, then that’s just fine! He’s a patient man.

Only for you of course.

-Mommabean