#I'm shitting bricks today people that's all I know

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

#hardcover ship #anger management ship #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #idk which order is 'accurate' here lol #jazz x jason #jason x jazz #rinfic #long post #wip: queen regent jazz and her dead soulmate

[familyvideostevie]

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?" 

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell. 

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says.  "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain. 

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on. 

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch." 

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #just and just as

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 2

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 1

Summary: You help Ethan get revenge on his ex that made his life hell.

Contains: Angst, Mentions of abusive behavior, Fluff-ish? idk, Oral - m and f receiving, rough sex, dom!-ish Ethan (If I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: I SUCK because I've had this almost finished for TWO DAYS and I thought I was going to have the time to finish it. Also, if there are any spelling errors or whatever, I'm sorry😫 If I re-read something I've written too much I start to criticize it and this would've never gotten posted lmao

After your night with Ethan, you woke up determined to right the wrongs that your friends’ narrative created. You felt bad for him, because he was the sweetest, and he didn’t deserve all the hate he got from people that had no idea what the truth was. And the last thing you wanted was for the boy you were starting to fall for to change his mind and decide on transferring to a different school, even after he told you he’d stay.

Your friend kept texting you all night, so much that you finally had to put your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ just so you could get some sleep. Once you clicked on her message thread and had to scroll a few times to read all the stuff she’d sent you, you got an idea when you made it to the last text she’d sent.

‘How could you do that when it’s obvious I still have feelings for him?’

“Oh shit,” you said, rereading the message a couple times. “That’s it!”

You were about to text Ethan when you saw the ‘Good morning’ text he’d sent you, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you messaged him back.

You: Good morning

You: What are you doing today?

Ethan: I’m going to lunch with my friends soon, wanna join?

You: I wouldn’t be imposing?

Ethan: Not at all. Plus, I really want to see you

You: Where am I meeting you guys?

Ethan: You think I’m going to let you walk there by yourself?

Ethan: Meet me in front of your dorm in an hour

You: See you soon

When you walked outside, you saw Ethan leaning against the brick wall of your dorm. You ran up to him, a huge smile on your face as he pulled you close.

“Hey cutie,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “How did you sleep?”

“I wish I slept a lot better,” you sighed, “Your ex was texting me all night.”

“Oh…why?” he asked, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Someone told her I was kissing you at the party last night,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“What did she say?” he asked as he started to walk, leading the way towards the restaurant.

“That I betrayed her, that you’re going to hurt me just like you hurt her, and that she still has feelings for you.”

“Well, she can choke on her feelings,” he bluntly said, as you started to laugh. “I’m serious. She’s made my life hell.”

“I think I might know how to make things better for you, but I don’t know if you’ll like my idea,” you said, as he curiously looked over at you.

“What are you thinking?”

“What if you asked her to hang out? Like, just say that you miss her and you want to see her. Then you call her out on her bullshit, but record the conversation,” you said, as Ethan took a deep breath. “I can think of something else if you don’t want to be around her.”

“No, I think it’s a good idea,” he said, “I’m not sure if I can fake being nice to her, though. What if I see her and I just blow up on her?”

“I think you can do it,” you said, your thumb rubbing against the top of his hand. “Just think, you get her to confess that everything she’s said about you wasn’t true, and your life can go back to normal.”

“Normal sounds nice,” he said, glancing up to notice all the people looking at him. “I felt like I was invisible in high school. Now I can’t get people to stop staring at me.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re so cute,” you said, half-joking as you smiled at him. “I’m finding it hard to stop staring at you.”

“Stop, you’re going to make me blush,” he said, his free hand running across his face as he tried to compose himself from your flirting. “I think they’re staring right now because I’m with someone as beautiful as you.”

“Who’s making who blush now?” you asked, as he opened the restaurant door for you.

He led you over to the table where his friends were, introducing you to them as you sat down. You recognized Chad from the night before, and Ethan was just praying that he wouldn’t say something embarrassing.

“It’s nice to officially met you,” Chad said, “Ethan hasn’t shut up about you all morning.”

Ethan sighed in defeat as he looked over to his friend, “Seriously?”

“What? It’s true,” Chad shrugged, “He told me you convinced him to stay, which I’ve been trying to do for months.”

“I think things are about to get a lot easier for him,” you said, as Ethan smiled.

“She’s a genius,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. “Apparently my ex still has feelings for me. Fuck, I need to text her.” Ethan slid his phone out of his pocket and unblocked her number, before typing. “Does this sound okay?” he asked, showing you the ‘I miss you. can we talk?’ text.

“As long as you don’t actually miss her, then yeah,” you said, as Ethan started to laugh.

“Fuck no,” he said, as he pressed send.

“Wait…if she still has her feelings, why would she spread all those rumors?” Tara asked, as Mindy jumped in the conversation.

“She doesn’t want anyone else to have him.”

“That’s fucked up,” Chad said, as Ethan’s phone vibrated against the table.

Ethan looked over to you before he picked his phone up. You could tell he was nervous, you were, too.

“She asked me what I’m doing tonight,” he sighed, “She wants me to take her to dinner.”

“Do you feel comfortable with that?” you asked, his expression unreadable.

“Do you feel comfortable with that?” he questioned, “You know how she is. She’ll probably try to be affectionate.”

“I’ll kill her,” you said with a straight face as Ethan started to laugh. “I’m serious…if she touches you, she’s dead.”

“Ooh, what if we stake out at the restaurant,” Tara suggested, “We sit far enough away, but we can still see what’s going on.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ethan sighed, “I could only imagine what she’d say once she finds out it’s all bullshit. What if she says I put my hands on her or something?”

“You’ll have witnesses. I’ll come,” Chad said, as Mindy agreed to come along, too.

“Okay, I’m meeting her at 7,” he said, as his hand rubbed against your leg under the table.

Once everyone finished eating, you and Ethan were invited over to Tara’s. Ethan had other plans though, asking you if you wanted to go to his dorm for a little bit first. You agreed, because you wanted to spend alone time with him before he had to meet with his ex.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me going out with her tonight?” Ethan asked, once you’d made it back to his dorm. “I haven’t even taken you on our first date yet, and I’m taking her on one. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m okay with it as long as you don’t get sucked back in,” you said, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you sat down on his bed. “She’s good at convincing.”

“I won’t,” he promised, as he took a seat beside you. “The only one sucking me in is you.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say to her?” you asked, trying to fight the blush that was spreading to your cheeks.

“Well, I thought I’d start the conversation with the ‘I’m happy you wanted to see me’ and go from there. I think I’ll bring up the rumors and stuff after we start eating,” he sighed. “I hope she doesn’t deny it.”

“Just say you won’t give her another chance unless she admits it, because I told you she was the one spreading everything about you,” you suggested, as he shook his head.

“I’m not throwing you under the bus like that.”

“She’s already pissed at me. Why does it matter?” you asked, “Because honestly, she’s not my friend, not if she’s that shitty of a person. I don’t care what she thinks about me.”

“What if she starts shit about you, too?” he questioned, making you scoff.

“What can she say about me? Everyone will know she’s a liar after tonight.”

You talked with Ethan for a while about the right things to say and do, and as the hours started to pass, he was getting really stressed. He laid back on the bed and pulled you close to cuddle.

“We should probably go to Tara’s soon,” he said, as his fingertips rubbed across your back. With the lack of sleep from the night before, you were starting to feel really drowsy with the soothing motions. “Fuck, I’m so worried that I’ll just snap once I see her. I feel myself getting angrier.”

“You have every right to feel that way,” you said, as your hand rubbed across his stomach. “But I might know I way for you to release some of that tension.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already having a hunch with the suggestiveness in your tone. You didn’t say anything as your hand traveled lower, running over the slight bulge in his jeans. You felt him getting harder the longer you rubbed, his hips shifting as he tried to get comfortable.

You sat up to look at him before your hand reached up to the button of his jeans. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night,” you said, your eyes on his as you slid his zipper down. “No one’s ever made me cum as hard as you did.”

You started to tug on his jeans as he lifted his hips, making it a little easier for you to get them down.

“Do you want me to make you cum right now?” he asked, as you laughed and shook your head.

“No, baby. I’m going to take care of you,” you said, sliding his boxers down. He gasped the second his cock sprang free from the confines of his boxers, your hand moving to lazily stroke it as he watched you, his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I’ve been dying to do this.”

With his size, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fit all of it in your mouth, but you were determined to make him feel so good that the only thing he thought about on his fake date with your friend was you. You started with his tip, your tongue swirling around it. You paid extra attention to the underside the head of his cock because he kept gasping every time your tongue brushed against it. Then you slowly started to take him in your mouth, as his hand went to your hair.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as he watched you. He thought you were always beautiful but seeing you like this made him even more attracted to you. Your eagerness to please him just like he took care of you the night before showed him how down for him you really were, and the way that you thought of a plan to help him get his life back to normal had him falling for you harder than he expected to, at least this soon.

Once you started to gag, his hand that was resting loosely in your hair started to pull it a little, the feeling making you moan around him. You just kept going, the drool from all your gagging starting to drip down his cock. You reached your hand up to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, as your cheeks hollowed and how head started to bob.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned once your hand started to twist a little. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His praise motivated you even more, your head moving quicker as he struggled to keep quiet. Not that he needed to be, but he had so many different sounds threatening to slip past his lips. He was fighting to keep his hips still. It was taking everything in him to not thrust into your mouth. You noticed that he was holding back, so you pulled away, your hand still moving as you looked at him. Your eyes were glassy from all the tears that formed, your lips were swollen, and Ethan was just so in awe of you.

“You don’t have to just lay there,” you said, the slight rasp in your voice from all the gagging quickly becoming his new favorite sound. “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, as you mumbled a “Mhm.”

You took him back in your mouth, and it didn’t take long for his hips to thrust. Your hand kept you from taking more than you could handle, but you were still gagging so much. Every time your throat tightened; Ethan felt himself getting closer to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his hand tugging on your hair as his hips stuttered.

You glanced up to see him as his orgasm hit. His eyes were fluttering as the salty liquid coated your taste buds, his head rolling back. The grip he had on your hair loosened as you slowed down, before you slid him out of your mouth.

“How was that?” you asked, as he tore his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. He had a goofy smile on his face as his hands reached out to grab you and pull you close.

“That was perfect, babe,” he said, as he started to get a little curious. “How’d you get so good at that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” you playfully said, as he chuckled. “We really should go to Tara’s.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking if you guys go to the restaurant early, she would be less likely to see you,” he said, as his hands started to rub your back again.

“We better go now, because you’re going to make me fall asleep,” you said, pushing yourself off his chest.

Once you made it to Tara’s, Ethan was way calmer than he was before. You knew the plan would work, but now you had more confidence that he’d be able to keep his cool. When everyone said they were ready to go, Ethan wrapped his hands around your waist from behind you. You turned to face him, a sweet smile on your lips as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Thank you,” he said, as you curiously looked at him.

“For what?”

“For being amazing,” he said, stealing one more kiss as Mindy fake-gagged in the background.

“Okay, if we’re going to make it to the restaurant before them, we need to go now,” she said, as you hesitantly pulled away from Ethan.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, following Ethan’s friends out the door.

Once Ethan and his ex made it to the restaurant, you could feel the jealousy building. You saw the simple touches against his arm, the flirty smile on her lips. You felt your blood start to boil as you huffed and turned your attention to his friends.

“You okay?” Tara asked, noticing the pissed expression on your face.

“She was touching him,” you said, glancing back over to see them seated at the table.

“You really like him, huh?” Chad asked, as you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“Yeah,” you said, your angry expression turning into a smile as you thought about Ethan.

“He really likes you too,” Tara said, as Chad nodded.

“Yeah, I told you, he wouldn’t shut up about you this morning.”

Everyone kept glancing towards Ethan’s table, but you were trying so hard not to. You just wanted to focus on eating the food in front of you, even though you didn’t have much of an appetite. You didn’t want to see him doing what he could to get the confession out of her, but once Mindy mumbled “Oh shit.” you finally looked up.

“Are they arguing?” Tara asked, as Chad nodded.

“He looks pissed.”

You watched your friend try to grab Ethan’s hand on the top of the table, but he pulled it away before he stood up. He searched the restaurant for the table that you were at before he walked over.

“I got her confession. Let’s go, babe,” he said, as you stood up. He took your hand in his before he turned to Chad. “I’ll send you money for her food. Is that cool?”

“Yeah, we’ll leave soon. You want to come back to Tara’s?” Chad said, as Ethan shrugged.

“Not right now, I need to blow off some steam.”

Your heart started to pound, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach as he walked with you. You weren’t sure how he wanted to let out his aggression, but you really hoped that it’d be in his bed. He led you out of the restaurant, your hand in his. Once your friend saw, she jumped up from the table and followed you outside.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing your shoulder after she caught up to you.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, turning to face her.

“What the fuck was all of this?” she asked, as Ethan tried to pull you away. “Honey, he doesn’t want you if he asked me out tonight.”

“Honey, he asked you out tonight so you’d confess to all the fucked up things you’ve said about him,” you yelled, your words full of venom as she started to laugh.

“Aww, are you trying to get people to believe that he isn’t some asshole?” she asked, and your hands involuntarily clenched at your sides. You were furious with the smug look on her face and the snarky tone. “Good luck trying to prove it.”

“I’ll prove it,” Ethan said, as he started to play back the video so she could hear it. Her face dropped, before she tried to grab his phone from his hands.

“Aww, are you worried everyone’s going to find out how much of a lying bitch you are?” you asked, your tone matching hers as she started to get mad. “You can’t just fuck up someone’s life and get away with it.”

Your conversation with her wasn’t quiet, and people started to gather around. They were probably anticipating the altercation to get physical, but you refused to give everyone that satisfaction.

“You really are a shitty friend,” she said, making you scoff.

“You’re a shitty person! You spread so much shit about Ethan that wasn’t true. How the fuck do you sleep at night knowing you’ve been ruining his life all year?”

“He shouldn’t have broken up with me,” she snapped, “But it’s okay. You aren’t what he really wants. It’s cute that you think you’ll ever compare to me.”

“That’s the reason I am interested in her!” Ethan yelled, “She’s nothing like you! You told everyone I was controlling, that I was mentally and emotionally abusive. That’s what YOU were!”

She was about to say something, when she glanced around and noticed all the people with their phones out, pointed at her. You noticed some of the girls that you’d heard talk about Ethan staring at the ground, disappointed in themselves that they helped spread the rumors. Some of the guys that had gathered around shook their heads at her.

“That’s fucked up,” one of the guys said, before one of the girls jumped in.

“Yeah, you’re going to make all of us seem like we’re lying if something happens to us. That really is fucked up.”

You looked over to Ethan, your eyes wide as he tried to fight a smile from forming on his lips. He saw her little reign of terror crumbling, and it was so satisfying to watch.

She suddenly felt the urge to save face, walking over to Ethan. He backed away from her as she sighed in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said, as he started to laugh.

“You’re only sorry because people know who you really are now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t care that you fucked this whole year up for me. All you cared about was making sure no one else wanted me, but how funny is it that one of your friends does?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” you said, looking over at her. “Good luck finding someone here that wants to be with you after what you did to him.”

Ethan grabbed your hand to lead you away from her, as she stood there in the awkward tension. Once you and Ethan made it a block away, you both started to laugh.

“Maybe I didn’t need to record the conversation with her,” he said, “Almost everyone recorded that shit just now.”

“I’m happy for you, babe,” you said, as he leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t a quick peck like you expected, your mouths moving together as you made out on the sidewalk.

“It was so hot watching you stand up to her like that,” he said against your lips once you pulled away to catch your breath. “Let’s go to my dorm. Chad’s going to Tara’s.”

“And what would we do?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips as he smiled.

“I think celebratory sex is the perfect way to end tonight, followed by you staying over once I tell Chad he can’t come home.”

Once Ethan got you back to his dorm, he unbuttoned the jeans you were wearing the second you slid your shoes off your feet.

“Someone’s eager,” you giggled, as he led you to the bed.

“You have no idea,” he said, pushing you back.

Your legs were hanging off the side of the bed as he pulled your jeans and panties down your legs, the aggressiveness of it making you more wet than you already were. He dropped to the floor, sitting on his knees as he moved your legs to rest on his shoulders. He started with small licks to your clit, teasing you a little just so he could make you squirm. Your legs resting on him pulled him closer once he wasn’t giving you what you needed. He chuckled against you before he started to swirl his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, just like that,” you said, your hand moving to rest in his curls.

His hands grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to his mouth, a squeal slipping past your lips once you felt your ass hanging off the bed.

“I won’t let you fall, baby,” he said, before his tongue went back to your clit.

You felt two of his fingers brushing against your entrance, a low moan falling out of your mouth once he slid them inside of you. You glanced down to look at him and saw his eyes on you. He couldn’t stop watching the way your chest started to rise and fall quicker and all the cute little faces you were making.

He started to angle his fingers just right, pressing them against the spongy spot inside of you as he suckled on your clit. Your hand pulled his hair, the other one gripping at the sheets as your moans got louder.

You felt that feeling starting to build, your body getting hotter as he pressed his fingers even harder.

“Oh shit,” you whimpered, as he sucked harder on your clit. “Cumming.”

Your back arched off the bed as the legs around Ethan’s shoulders clenched around him, holding him in place as he kept fucking you with his fingers. He slowed down a little once your pussy started to spasm, the loud whines falling from your lips echoing off the walls as he worked you through it.

Once your body relaxed, he slid his fingers out of you, and gave your clit a few more gentle licks before he rolled you over, your wobbly legs trying to stabilize themselves as your feet rested against the floor. You were still so blissed out, your senses still on overdrive as you heard the sound of his zipper getting slid down. After he took off his jeans and boxers, you waited in anticipation as he walked over to his nightstand to grab a condom. Once he came back over to you, he ran his hands over your ass that was proudly sticking up in the air for him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckled as he rolled the condom on.

He inched himself inside of you, soft moans slipping past your lips as he filled you up. When he stilled inside of you, he ran his hands over your hips as his cock stretched you out.

“You can move now,” you said, your voice muffled by his bed sheets.

He started off with slow, deep thrusts. He slid his cock out of you every time, his breathing getting heavier every time the tip went in and out of your entrance. Your hips started to move back to meet his slow thrusts, but he pulled back even further.

“Please, baby,” you begged, as you heard him chuckle from behind you.

“How bad do you want it?” he asked, as his hands moved from your ass to grip your hips. You huffed in response, as he slowed down even more. “If you want me to give you what you want, you better tell me.”

“I want it so fucking bad,” you pouted, as he smirked at how needy you were.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Before you could say anything else, he started to pound into you. He was pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, your legs tingling as you struggled to hold yourself up. You were clinging to his sheets, whimpers flooding out of your mouth as he slammed into that spot every single time.

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, as you moaned in response.

Ethan had gone absolutely feral, one of his hands snaking under you to pull you back against him as he fucked up into you. He was squeezing at one of your breasts over your shirt as his other hand kept pulling your hips down.

“Are you mine?” he growled in your ear, this new side of Ethan turning you on more than you already were. You were trying so hard to form words, but they wouldn’t come out. The sounds of your wet pussy and skin slapping were filling the room as you felt the coil in the pit of your stomach getting tighter. “Are you too cock drunk to answer me?”

You nodded your head as he laid you back on the bed, your hands grasping at the sheets again as he fucked you even harder. Your whimpers were turning to cries as your legs started to shake, your orgasm taking over your body so strong that you swore you were going to black out from how good it felt.

“Almost there, baby,” he said, your pussy squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could bust at that feeling alone. After a few more deep thrusts, he moaned out, his cum filling the tip of the condom. He caught his breath for a minute before he slid out of you, smiling at the way your body was relaxed on his bed.

“I am,” you said, after he got rid of the condom and helped you get the rest of your body up on the bed.

“You’re what?” he questioned, as he laid down and pulled you close.

“I’m yours.”

After that night, your former friend only lasted a couple weeks at the university once everyone realized how she really was. She switched to online classes until she transferred to a college closer to her and Ethan’s home town. Your relationship with Ethan got more serious that he was bringing you home for the holidays. You were taking all these cute little photos in front of one of the light displays when you saw her with someone you assumed to be her new boyfriend, but she quickly walked away with him the second she saw you and Ethan.

“You think she’s going to do the same shit to him that she did to me?” he asked, wrapping his arm around you as you walked along the path of lights.

“No, I think she learned her lesson.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

[maximumkillshot]

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Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[qxldnya]

Enemies to lovers

Part 1 Part 2

Jude Bellingham x baller!reader

(ongoing series)

Wc: 800

Warnings: swearing, insults

A/n: thank you for the love since the first part this one will have a lot more jude in it though;)

"What?"

Is the only conceivable answer you're finally able to squeak out, hands beginning tp tremble at your sides.

"I- People are saying what?"

Oh no no no no....

Someone. Had fucking heard you. But how????

Jude's eyes flash annoyed, shoulders stiffening.

"People," he grits out from between his clenched teeth, like you're too stupid to properly comprehend what he's saying.

And to be fair, maybe you are.

"are saying that we are dating. And I sure as fuck didn't go around saying bullshit like that."

You can't help but cower against the wall under his scrutinizing gaze, wishing that someone, anyone, would come by and help you out of this shitty situation.

This shitty situation that you might've somehow made for yourself, yes, but dammit, you deserve to be rescued from someone like Jude.

"I-"

"Don't play dumb, cause apparently Rice heard you saying some shit like that. And now it's spreading like fucking wildfire across camp."

He leans in even closer. The close proximity has you flushing despite the tense atmosphere, and you blanch, fumbling with your gym bag as it nearly slips from your grasp. Him being all up in your personal space is seriously messing with your concentration.

"Rice?" You finally stutter, like the oblivious idiot you are. "Like, Declan Rice?"

"Who else, dipshit?"

A thousand thoughts are racing through your mind because holy shit, out of all your teamates, Rice would've been one of the last people you'd ever want to overhear that particular conversation. The main reason being that anything gossipy that anyone tells him or anything he happens to bear apparently - will be broadcasted to the entirety of the team in a matter of hours.

So if he was the one to overhear your stupid blunder of words... It's no wonder you're fucked right now. But you'd checked the room, you're positive you did, and he wasn't there. So how...? And then it hits you, like a brick in the face. You forgot to look behind you. Like an actual idiot, too hurried to properly survey your surroundings.

"No," you laugh nervously, trying to wave him off in earnest and hoping that your internal panic doesn't manifest itself onto your face.

"no that can't be true. He probably... overheard something stupid I said and, y'know, just took off running with it."

Forcing another laugh, you trail off when you realize your words have had zero effect on him. In fact, he looks even more pissed off now, which you weren't aware was even possible at this point.

"So you said something?" A sharp question, and you realize your mistake far too late. Implying that Declan could've overheard something is only bound to incriminate you further.

You should've just denied it all from the beginning. "I definitely didn't!"

Comes the feeble protest from your lips. You both are aware that it's a truly pathetic attempt to dissuade him.

"Bullshit," he snarls, and you realize you've dug yourself into an even deeper trench. "I know Declan. He's a fucking gossip, but not a liar."

Trying to backtrack, because now he's thinking you're insulting his friend, you search for another escape route from this conversation. Anything at all to end it, so you can go and put yourself six feet under the second you get back to your room.

"No! No, I'm not saying he's a liar, I just-"

"You just! what?." He's even closer now, jaw locked in. Positive that if you press any farther into the wall, you'll fuse with it, you instead try to dodge to the side again. He doesn't let you, shifting his weight to the side, and you're unable to fight back the blush that spreads across your cheeks when you realize his lips are only inches from yours.

The day you kiss Jude is the day the world splits in half and rains fire and lava across every nation on the Earth.

Today is not about to be that day.

"Jude, training's is going to start-" He positions himself to block your way again, forearm completely pressed against the wall next to your head.

"You don't get to fucking run away right now, alright? So tell me what the fuck is going on."

"Nothing!"

"Then the rumors?"

"I don't know-!"

"No, I want the fucking truth."

"It was an accident!"

You finally hiss, squeezing your eyes shut in utter mortification, because holy SHIT this could not possibly get any worse right now. The sound of footsteps from farther down the hall squeaking to a stop alert both of you to the presence of an uninvited onlooker.

Both you and jude whip your heads around to face them, and you both stand stock still as a petite girl from the media team stands awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, clutching her bag tightly in her arms.

The universe is just full of surprises: it CAN get worse! It's very possible that you might go into cardiac arrest within the next few minutes.

Jude's still boxing you into the wall his chest nearly touching yours as you both flush bright red at the sudden intrusion.

To anyone not aware of the very hostile context of the situation at hand, you've both become hyperaware of the fact that your positions probably look... far from innocent.

Eventually she just giggles bashfully and passes by the both of you to enter the pitch, but not before she could take a picture of you both in the compromised position. She then proceeded to hurriedly say something along the lines of-

"youtwomakeacutecouple!"

"hey!" Jude tried to get her attention but she had scurried away out of sight. He knew it was too late and that the picture probably already been posted on all the gossip accounts on twitter by now.

You're legitimately too scared to look back at Jude. And for good reason, because you can hear how hard he's breathing right now.

If he was pissed before, you don't want to imagine how angry he must be right now.

"What the fuck did you say," he growls, still not moving from his current position. In turn, you choose not to respond, busying yourself with the scuffed floor beneath your sneakers as your heart pounds wildly from within your chest. Ah, yes. Linoleum. Your favorite.

"What the FUCK did you-" he starts again, pushing himself off the wall to stare at you in utter disgust, and you snap.

You're not sure if it's from the adrenaline of this whole situation, or if you've just lost almost all of your braincells in the past 24 hours, but you immediately step forwards after him and hold out a finger to press it firmly against his lips, silencing him in his tracks.

A ballsy move, that's for sure. "Shut up!" You whisper-shriek, your entire body vibrating with energy. "Just- shut the fuck up! I'll explain all of this after training, but I am... NOT going to be counted tardy because.. because of this!" The floor beneath your cleats klick as you turn on your heel towards the pitch, clutching your gym bag firmly and casting one last scathing look over your shoulder.

"Next time, ask me shit like a normal human being without just- trapping me against a wall, you fucking asshole! I can have ur ass in jail for that Bellingham. It's called harassment at workplace" you shouted.

And then you walk into the pitch, as if he's not about to eventually follow you and stand right fucking next to you and listen to coaches instructions.

But damn, did that feel good. Your victory is short lived however, because instead of waiting an appropriate amount of time to enter the room, Jude instead chooses to saunter into the pitch right after you. Like. Directly behind you.

The looks that you're getting from your fellow teammates are overtly obvious at this point, and you can only imagine what they all must be thinking.

You want to turn around and reprimand the shit out of him for not realizing the awkward position he's just put both of you in, for the second time in the past five minutes, but there's already been far too much attention on you today.

Jude surprisingly says nothing, choosing instead to turn away from you and stare off into space.

He seems lost in thought, you think. And for a brief moment, you wonder if you've finally put him in his place. Your phone buzzes, and you see mason from the other side of the pitch trying to catch your eye by "discreetly" waving his phone around like a traffic flagger.

Rolling your eyes, you slide your phone out of your pocket to face the inevitable. You immediately open your phone to see the three unread messages from earlier this morning, as well as a new one from a minute ago.

From: money mase

8:12 AM

YOU'RE DATING JUDE????

8:14 AM

swear down you do!!

8:20 AM

wtf is going on? I'm hearing about it all over camp, I didn't even know that people knew ur name ;P

Ouch.

9:14

UR WALKING IN TOGETHER????? IS IT TRUE???????? How big is it.

Gritting your teeth, you type out a response, fingers tapping the screen a bit harsher than necessary.

You can feel his expectant gaze focused on your form as you answer her.

From: You

9:15 AM

It's all a big shitty misunderstanding

His next text is immediate. And at this point you had no idea how no one had clocked you two being on your phones.

From: money mase

9:16 AM

So ur not dating?

From: You

9:16

AM Ok what exactly are people saying????

From: money mase

9:17 AM

Ok so Idk how it got spread but Rice's been saying something about you two dating and finally becoming official? And that was according to you??? I didn't hear the details but everyone's kinda curious since Jude is like Y'know famous for being him and there's a lot of angry fangirls ngl but he's a good looking boy, so I'm not surprised this blew tf up.

Groaning quietly,

You'd known Jude Bellingham to be a popular figure throughout the country, but his reputation had spiked considerably after that game, with people going as far as to making thirsty edits of him

Whatever.

You had still disliked him.

From: You

9:18 AM

I forgot about the fangirls. Idk how he even has any they don't know what he really is like...

From: money mase

9:20 AM

hahaha they like the bad boy vibe But yeah since some people knew you two were uh really cold with each other like in training and team bonding activities.

It came as a big surprise and Rice took off and made it into a whole hidden romance thing so it's got people weirdly intrigued. But main thing is he's claiming you were the one who said you and Jude were dating and idk he's a gossip but a reputable source soooo what's goin on?? >_>

Your coach begins to explain session course and you tuck your phone back into your pocket, mentally cursing every god in existence. Of course Declan just had to take one out of context conversation and turn it into a whole... real life fan fiction plot. Or something stupid like that.

What on earth are you supposed to do now.

You wind up pondering over that question for almost the entire rest of training, halfheartedly dribbling the ball past the dummies as you desperately search for a way out of this mess.

On one hand, you could try and ignore it all. Go about your life like nothing's wrong. But that would probably raise questions from people that you, quite frankly, wouldn't care to answer.

The other option is just telling Rice the truth, or at least saying you and Jude definitely AREN'T involved. So maybe he can spread that around instead. But you have a feeling that somehow, the whole thing might spin around on you, and you'll be branded as a liar, or worse: a creepy fangirl. You might even get kicked out.

The imaginary accusation makes you shudder. Dragging your hands down your face in exasperation, you snag a glance at Jude through the gaps between your fingers. He appears... less angry than you'd expected him to be. Considering everything that's happened in the past 24 hours.

brown eyes snap to meet yours. You panic and look away. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you stand in stunned silence as the guy in front of you just stares apathetically back at you. "I'm sorry-" you begin, but he scrunches his nose in disgust before you can finish.

You try to apologize again, stumbling over every word that comes out of your mouth, but he just turns away from you with a glare.

"Learn to speak properly you, prick," he mutters. Walking past you to greet James.

"keep ur mouth shut. Wouldn't want your fangirls hearing their little judy using such words, now do we?" you question with a lingering smirk playing on your lips. Only to be greeted by him simply turning his head glaring at you and mouthing bitch.

Nice going.

--

You've got half a mind to run like hell when training is finally over. But you did promise Jude that you'd explain, well, everything. And he's definitely holding you to that promise.

He stands up seemingly prepared to follow you out of the pitch again and it takes everything in you to not turn around and bap him on the head for not realizing that him tailing you so closely is bound to solidify the rumors in your fellow peers' minds. "Follow me," he grunts, slipping past you and into the aisle walkway.

Never mind.

Now you're the one following like a lovesick puppy. The thought of being that enamored with Jude grosses you out, so you discard it. It feels like everyone's looking now, though.

But the stares don't seem to bother him as much as they bother you, because he doesn't so much as bat an eye when a few of your teammates begin to whisper to themselves as they look at him, then at you, then back to him.

You scamper along behind him, willing yourself to become as small as physically possible so you can shrink away from the curious gazes that surround you. Leaving the classroom feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air, but you still notice a few students lingering around.

Jude leads you down the hallway and to the right, and from then on takes multiple turns and twists across the building until you find yourselves in front of the doorway to an empty room. The people have completely thinned out, and this wing of the facility seems completely abandoned.

You peer around his broad shoulders to get a good look inside. It seems like it's been abandoned for years now, with thin layers of dust coating nearly every surface and with thin layers of dust coating nearly every surface and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

He explains stiffly. "Used to chill here with Trent and James "

And then he's walking inside without so much as a glance backwards to ensure that you're following. He probably assumes you'll go after him anyways, the cocky bastard.

But you actually do, much to your own displeasure, so maybe it's not totally unjustifiable. It still pisses you off though. He stops in the middle of the room, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm sorry about earlier." You nearly pinch yourself to ensure that, no, this isn't a dream, and the Jude Bellingham is actually apologizing to you for something.

"I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he admits, his voice low. "Shitty move on my part."

"I- You're fine," you manage to stammer out, still dumbfounded at this recent development. The tension seems to visibly lift from his body.

Then, with a glance over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes.

"So... explanation. Now." Sighing, you trod over to an empty desk and plop down. You shouldn't have expected him to truly be any different than normal, you supposed. But, there's no time like the present. Might as well get this all over with.

"Ok, so... this all started because of my aunt Sylvie's wedding."

Fifteen minutes later, you've completely caught him up to date on the truth about what happened - as well as a tiny rant about just how much you desperately hate Tom - and finally finish your story, only to be met with an awkward silence.

He's turned to face you completely by now, having been listening intently with only a few subtle shifts in his expression. None that you could read, though. For all you know, he could be mentally plotting your murder right now. Swallowing your pride, you stare down defeatedly at your hands.

"I'm sorry," you finally whisper when the deafening quiet becomes almost unbearable. Because being honest, this mess is your fault at the end of the day. The least you can do is clean it up.

"I'll tell Rice, and hopefully he can just spread the truth around this time. Or, you can, if you haven't already. I don't know. And I mean, that's fine, I just don't want to put you in an awkward position, so actually if you want me to do it instead-"

"You need a plus-one?" The question catches you off-guard, and you stop mid- ramble.

"Excuse me?"

"The wedding," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "you need a plus-one to go?"

Nodding cautiously, you shift in your seat. "Yeah, my aunt's kind of a micro-manager about that stuff. I don't know why, but now she thinks I RSVPed so... I'll probably have to just pay her back."

He stares at you for a few moments longer, before cursing and roughly running a hand through his hair. You're completely perplexed now, unsure of why he asked such a question in the first place.

Does he feel bad or something? Why would he ever feel bad though? No, it must be something else. Turning to the side, Jude clicks his tongue a few times, foot tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor. He curses once more, then wheels around to face you again with resigned scowl etched onto his features.

You raise an eyebrow.

"I'll do it."

The words are so sudden and out of place that you can't help but bark out an abrupt laugh, quickly moving your hand to cover your mouth.

"What?" He takes a few steps closer, eyes still narrowed. "I said I'll do it."

"Oh my god, you're serious," you breathe, unsure of what emotion you're exactly supposed to be feeling right now. Because elated is definitely not one of them. Why the fuck is Jude, the guy with whom you share a mutual hatred, offering to be your plus-one to a week long wedding vacation?

Your romantic plus-one? Your first thought is that he pities you, but that seems unlikely even for Jude. So is he trying to score reputation brownie points by helping you out in this situation? What is going on??

You're about to flat-out refuse, not wanting to be some asshole's charity case, when he speaks again.

"But I need you to do me a favor in return."

(a/n) - chapter 3 comes out tomorrow

#jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x fotballer reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold smut

[bloodycherry22]

Mistake | Rick Grimes

Genre: smut

Summary: The relationship between both you and Rick is negative, banter that is took too far, like frenemies. When Rick comes home injured, anger sparks and you decide to apologise by cleaning him up, he has another reward in mind ;)

Warnings: Dumbification, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), cussing, blood, mention of injury, fingering, little bit of praise.

Not proofread

It was quiet, too quiet. Too calm and safe, Alexandria, a place full of pussies, as Daryl would say. You should appreciate it, but its hard to..being stuck in a home with a man you hate, being one of the only single people left in the group, you had to fill the gap in the household, it was fine caring for Carl and Judith, but being so close to Rick, no.

His annoying voice, that painfully soothed you and his mannerisms, how he holds himself so well, how he walks with pride, it was like your body didn't know how to respond, pure hatred or pure want due to probable daddy issues..who knows. Either way, living with the man wasn't fun, he hated the way you got on so well with his kids and how well you helped around the house, how skilled you were with walkers. Everyone seemed to grow sick of the constant bickering, seemingly why you now live in a house alone with him and his kids.. and well Carl often takes Judith out during the day.

However, Rick was on a run as of right now, god knows when he would get back, so here you are, alone, reading a book on the plush couch, decorated in carefully crafted pillows and blankets. You could only see the shine of the clean hardwood floors, the fluffy socks on your feet making it impossible to feel discomfort of the hard flooring, yet you did, feel the discomfort that is. In an apocalyptic world, most grew to find comfort in the uncomfortable, everything was too perfect, after a while, an actual prison can begin to feel like home, yet this house just didn't.

You were knocked out of your nihilistic thought, the sound of the front door opening rang through your ears, recognising it to be rick by the sounds of his heavy boots and belt moving with a rhythmic metal sound. He didn’t announce himself but he didn’t need to, his presence was clear to you. "Finally home? Another useless trip or did you actually accomplish something today?" you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the book.

He just muttered something under his breathe in response, he stood somewhere behind you, the sound of him taking his jacket off present. "hey i may as well go pour the gas out into the river, cuz you know..that's basically what your doing with all these drives..or maybe i should go shoot a brick wall-"

"Fucking- just, not now..godamnit y/n, i'm sick of whatever this is"

"anger, rudeness, teasing..there are many words you can use rick, or is your brain decaying from being around all these mindless wimps all day-"

"y/n! god, i said enough!" He snapped and only then did you look up and meet his gaze, his tired gaze. He was a mess, covered in dirt, blood splattered all over his clothes and face, a few cuts on his face and hands. Guilt flew through you as you placed your book down on the coffee table. Tiptoeing over to him, you placed a hand on his bicep as you mumbled apologies, a newfound sympathy. He went to push you away, but held back, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"shit, i just wanted to come home to peace..but i can't, your constant teasing, its like we pick fights with each other, its pathetic!" he raised his voice, it was unclear if he was angry at just you..or both of you, either way, it wasn't nice.

"Rick, look..I'll leave you be tonight, k? Or just for a little while, seems like you need a break" you swiped your thumb over his arm and he looked at you, his blue eyes deep. "I'd say go relax and take a shower but the waters off while they fix something"

"Are y'kidding? Just my fucking luck, I need to clean myself up" He groaned, tipping his head back. Chewing on your lip, you smiled, light bulb moment. You walked around the house, grabbing various items, a water bottle, a cloth and a first aid kit. "I'll help..least i can do" you mumbled, sitting on the kitchen counter before ushering him over.

He raised his brow and strode over, standing in front of you, however he kept a distance, being petty. Sighing, you signaled for him to come closer, he obliged and moved an inch or two forward, grinning mischievously at you as you looked at him, dumbfounded. With a huff, you pulled him closer, in between your legs as they hung off the counter. He accepted the position and awkwardly moved his hands before setting them on your knees nervously.

You carefully poured some water onto the cloth, looking back at him afterwards. "stay still." He nodded in response and watched as you lifted the cloth to his face, slowly wiping some of the more prominent dirt away before brushing it over his skin. His eyes flickered over your features, curiosity shining in his blue orbs. The new intimacy made you appreciate more of him, the way he licked his once dry lips, the short beard, that was streaked lightly with grey. The way his hair fell over his face ever so slightly made you shiver, he looked good. It made you wonder how many times you missed his attractiveness throughout the years, you always knew he was good looking but suddenly you felt heavily attracted to the older man.

Slowly, you brushed some of his hair away revealing a deep gash just above his eyebrow, it made you cringe ever so slightly "fuck, does that not hurt?" You asked, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out some alcohol wipes. He shrugged, seeming zoned out and exhausted. Sighing, you bit down onto your lip and gently swiped the wipe over the cut, he flinched and gripped onto the fabric of your shirt, but you didn't mind, mumbling an apology and carrying on.

You frowned "i need to stitch that up, its super deep" you said, placing your pinky under his chin, forcing eye contact. He just nodded and gave you a look of approval, using his free hand to pat your knee in a reassuring way. You took his approval with a grain of salt and got what you needed, he watched your every move intently before closing his eyes when you got ready.

He was tough, but anyone could admit it was painful, you began to stitch it up, trying to be as gentle and quick as possible, his breathe seemed to hitch and his grip tightened in your shirt. You pursed your lips and persevered, taking great care with him. At a particularly painful part, his hand that once rested on your knee, tightly gripped at the push of your thigh, yet you managed to not react and push any dirty thoughts away.

Not long after, you finished, placing everything down and grabbing the cloth, wiping over his face once more, however his grip on your thigh didn't halt, nor did he show any signs of moving. Smiling, you placed the cloth down and looked at him, to your surprise he was already staring deep at you. You lifted your hand to pat his cheek "all done"

He grinned lightly and looked at you, the air thick and hot all of a sudden. "well thank you" he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your clothed thigh. "why do we fight?"

"i couldn't tell you, maybe its your annoying face" you joked. He scoffed, his face softening as he tipped his head to the side "the face you just took such good care of, i might just get you to do this every day" he joked, seeming to move closer.

"I dunno, i don't ever make the same mistake twice.." you clicked your tongue, finding yourself leaning towards him as if some unknown force was pulling you. He seemed impressed at your snarky remark and looked up from your lips, to your eyes, and back to your lips again.

"hm..well this better not be a mistake" he said, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips against yours, it was shocking, so out of nowhere and sudden, yet you kissed back, and god it was not a mistake. Your hands fell comfortably around his neck and he hummed lightly in satisfaction, pulling back to catch his breathe, lips still dancing over yours.

It was had to breath, everything was so sudden, so much had happened, it had been so long since a man had touched you, it was like your senses were in overdrive. You craved him, wanted more of him, your fingers fumbled with the edge of his hair as you pressed a short, gentle kiss to his lips.

A low noise escaped him as his free hand sat on your lower back, pulling you closer to him as his large frame spread your thighs, the way his hand still gripped so tight onto your thigh made you whimper. You were becoming so needy, so overwhelmed by him.

He let his hand ride up your thigh, thumb rubbing over the hot material that clothed your inner thigh, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He peppered sensual kisses over your neck, his lips warm and soft as they parted on the skin of your neck, sucking a mark into the skin. His warm embrace made your head tilt back and eyes flutter back in pleasure.

His scent was exhilarating, having him so close made your heart skip a beat, you never knew you needed him, but now you feared the idea of not being so close. He pulled back from your neck, gently tugging your skin with his teeth, he stepped back, eyes on your neck. A noise left your mouth, it was pathetic and at any other time would cause you embarrassment, but his absence wasn't what you wanted. You wanted him.

He snickered, stepping back between your thighs, both hands spreading over your thighs, gripping at the skin. "someones had a change of heart" He hummed, looking into your dazed eyes, his own slightly glazed over. You just mumbled in response, one of your hands resting on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.

“You’ve gone quiet darlin..have I really made that much of a mess out of you, that fast?” He smirked, leaning to brush his lips over yours, kissing you multiple times for just seconds. You found yourself desperately leaning into him, unbeknownst to what had happened to you.

“Tell me what you want, y/n” his voice was gruff, quiet, it made your body shake. The way your name rolled of his tongue. Licking your lips, you finally spoke up “I want you to touch me, Rick”

“That’s it, good job” he teased, his tone patronising as he squeezed your thighs gently, leaning in once again yet this time kissing you harshly. His lips moving against yours, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip as his fingers fumbled with your jeans, hands sliding up the material to unbutton them, making sure to drag his fingers as close to your heat as possible.

He tugged at the jeans, pulling them down your thighs and leaving them halfway down your shins as to not break the kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, the kiss deepening in all the ways you craved as one of his hands played teasingly with the hem of your underwear.

You whined, hands finding his hair to tug gently, earning a groan from him as he began to mess with your panties, agonisingly slow as he began to tug them down your thighs, just like the jeans. He hummed and pulled away from the kiss, lowering himself to fully remove the clothing that rested on your legs, his cold, calloused hands slowly made there way up your legs, landing on your hips and hiking you to the very edge of the counter.

You felt exposed as he spread your thighs with his large hands, his head between them, his breathe hot against your skin as he pressed short kisses along your thighs, one of his hands moving to your heat, his eyes met yours as if he was asking for your permission, you were quick to nod. You were sure you wanted him.

He couldn’t hold back the grin against the plush or your thigh, gently sucking another mark as his thumb found your clit, circling it at a slow pace, the touch sending you insane as your head flew back. He seemed proud of himself, it was clear in the way he sped up the circles to a much nicer pace, his middle finger circling your entrance before carefully pushing inside of you.

He watched your reactions closely, his finger pushing in and out of you, curling into the soft spot you craved. Quiet, desperate moans began to leave your mouth as your hips began to move against his hands, needy. He used his free hand to halt your movements, mumbling a quiet “not yet” he shook his head. It was quick but you felt the knot in your stomach quickly tightening, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as your body tried to, but failed to move against him. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a constant pace, watching you in pleasure as you came undone.

He began to pepper kisses up your thigh, moving closer and closer before he you felt a kiss on your clit, the sensation new and amazing. His tongue circled and played with your sensitive heat, making sure to change often, his finger still inside you. Your hands found his hair, gripping tightly as you tried to keep composure, the evident feeling of him adding another finger into your tight cunt making your eyes squeeze shut. His grin was clear against your skin.

His hand finally loosened on your hips and you were able to move against his face, thighs squeezing around him slightly at the harsh pleasure. His hand wrapped around the back of it, the other still working at your cunt, pushing at the same spot over and over again as he began to suck on your clit, feeling the way your legs began to shake. Your orgasm was building up and it was obvious, the way your quiet moans turned into loud whines and desperate pleas impressed him.

He leaned his head back and used to his thumb to quickly run circles into your clit, mouth pressing kisses into your thigh again as you felt the knot releasing. He kept at his pace for a few moments longer, helping you come down from the high, watching you pant and gasp. He slowly stood up again, carefully removing his fingers and humming. He smirked at your flushed expression, seeming embarrassed. “You taste good sweetheart, we really should do this more often” he teased, kissing you softly, able to taste yourself on his tongue.

Apologies the smut seems so rushed, I wanted to get another fic out so bad and I made this up two or three hours ago lol.

#rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes twd #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick twd #twd rick #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut

[writeroutoftime]

Could you write where you were Carmys high school crush and he sees you again and gets so shy bc he thought you liked his brother brother but you actually had a crush on him ?

words: 0.7k

a/n: okay, this is set somewhere during season 2 before the opening of The Bear…anyway please enjoy!! (and maybe let me know what you think?)

oOoOo

It was a gray and cloudy day in Chicago as Carmy leant against the rough bricks of the building, slowly taking a drag of his cigarette. He was so caught up in menu ideas, dining room setups, and how everything was going to get fucking paid for, he didn’t recognize the figure that had stopped right in front of him.

“Carmen? Carmy Berzatto is that you?” a voice spoke from above him, sweet and melodic.

He squinted up, eyes opening suddenly as his brain put the mental puzzle together. “y-y/n.” he choked out, throwing his cigarette to the ground and quickly stomping it out. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m back in Chicago for a while.” you shrugged half-heartedly. “Can I give you a hug? I’m gonna give you a hug.” you told him before you launched forward and wrapped your arms around his frame.

Carmy found himself melting into your touch, transported back to high school when you had been one of his closest friends. So many afternoons spent in the dining room of The Beef, laughing at each other and dreaming about what you would do when you were finally free from high school. All that time Carmy had the biggest crush on you, but stayed silent, always assuming you had a crush on Mikey instead.

“But enough about me.” you insisted, stepping away to give him his space once more and pulling him from his thoughts. “How are you? What have you been up to, Mr. ‘one of the best chefs in the country’?”   

Carmy felt a blush spread across his face at your praise. “You know, pretty good. Uh, it was definitely hard there after Mikey, but things, things are good. Gonna be opening up a new restaurant soon.” he shrugged, as calmly as if he had told you about going to the dentist.

“What? Carmy that’s amazing!” you shouted, ignoring the stares of the people of Chicago walking by. “I’m so proud of you! And I know that Mikey would be too.”

“Thanks.”

A moment of silence passed, more nostalgic rather than uncomfortable. You couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat over seeing Carmy again. It was easy to tell how worn out he looked, and there was a pang of guilt over your lack of connections the past few years. Resolved to be better, you held your hand out expectantly.

“Give me your phone.” you said followed by an exasperated look when Carmy simply stared back at you. “Fate brought us back together, but I don’t want this to be it, so give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

Realization clicked in his mind, and Carmy fumbled for his phone. “Uh, yeah, sure. Here you go.” A few taps later and the phone was safely back in his hands, and his grip was tight as if it had suddenly become his most prized position.

“I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you later. And I can’t wait to eat at your new restaurant!” you told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before strolling away.

The rest of the day, Carmy fell into a pattern of typing out a text, hovering his finger over the send button, before chickening out. He briefly considered asking for Sydney's or Sugar's help, but he knew Richie or someone would over here and then the entire staff would be giving him shit over it. Finally, as the night carried on, Carmy said fuck it and sent a text.

8:50, carmy: hey, nice seeing you today 8:53, y/n: I'm glad we ran into each other 8:54, y/n: and that you agreed to me giving you my number 8:57, carmy: yeah? 9:01, y/n: yeah, you were one of my best friends, and I want us to be close again 9:01, y/n: plus, I had the biggest crush on you back in high school so 18-year-old me would be freaking out now. I thought it was so obvious lol.

Carmy couldn't stop himself from reading your last message, three times over. You had a crush on him then? Maybe, just maybe you still did. Fuck he thought, how was he gonna respond?

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear imagine #rita writes

[citylawns]

Sometimes I feel such rage and anger that so much of my love and passion for art, film, literature has been squeezed out of me and dried up by needing to work in a job I hate full time. I said recently how I have lost the ability to feel excited in the past 1-2 years but I'm starting to get the passion back and I'm going to try and make a living out of it somehow. I was in the stockroom at work today just staring at the brick wall for a few minutes. I have to remind myself, I have learned from this struggle, I can change my life. I just think I would kill myself if I couldn't enjoy art again, if I lost my love and passion for film and books for too long. And there were times last year in 2023 I felt close to that. At least I know now. And maybe I feel behind now, I feel behind on culture I used to be ahead in because so much time was spent depressed or handing clothes I can't afford to rich people that look at me like dog shit they stepped in and I ride the bus two hours home in the rain to eat dinner and wash and go to bed and do it all again. Of course I would kill myself. And trying to get out for years. Changing 3 jobs and getting money from the government and endless rejections from more interesting roles. What else am I going to do? I either find a way out this year or die. I have to do whatever it takes to keep in touch with art.

#personal

[hannieluvsyou]

Super shy.

Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

description: Wherein the loud boy gets smitten with his seatmate, the shy girl.

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing.

note: I apologize in advance for any typos or grammatical errors.

'This guy keeps staring at me...' I thought as I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to ignore the intense stare that shoots holes through the side of my head.

Who you may ask? Kwon Soonyoung. My seatmate.

Ever since he became my seatmate, he's a bit too uh... Loud for my liking. I don't really pay him any mind but his stares and loud mouth make me sweat literal fucking bullets.

"Hey uh– do you have a spare pen?" I quickly looked at him, surprised at the sudden question. He just stares at me as he waits for my response.

'Shit shit shit what do I say?!' I internally panic as I look for a pen.

Soonyoung patiently waits with sweaty palms. He finally talked to you! Even if you looked scared shitless, he talked to you! All he has to do now is do it every chance he gets. The hard part is well, talking to you.

Talking to people is like taking a walk in the park for him. But when it comes to you, it's a completely different story. His usual loud ass mouth becomes a thin line and his usually relaxed eyes are almost bulging out of it's sockets.

After some time, he saw a pen slide on his side of the desk.

"Here, I hope you don't mind. I don't have any other pen available." I say as I play with the pages of my book.

Soonyoung stares at the unicorn themed pen in his hand.

'Cute.' He fanboyed in his mind, pink dusting his cheeks.

He clutched it and looked at you with sparkly eyes.

"I like it!" He started. "Thank you." He said while sporting a blinding smile.

"No problem..." I whisper lowly. I don't think he heard me but his smile that widened says otherwise.

He knows that you're a shy one, but that does not stop him from feeling these particular emotions. He strongly believes that 'opposites attract'.

A few days have passed since that interaction. I have embarrassed myself once, I'm not letting myself get embarrassed twice. I just have to avoid him for as long as I can. It's not that I don't like the guy, I just don't think that we'll ever get along.

Soonyoung on the other hand, will do anything just to talk to you. Accidentally bumping into you, asking for notes, inviting you for lunch, he has tried everything. Yet what does he get? A scared expression and quick nods. It's not like he's not hurt about it, but he understands that you may be a bit overwhelmed with his advances.

But today may be the day that things will change.

I have a quiz today, and that means that I only got 2 hours of sleep. I might've aced the exam but I am tired as hell.

I can't help the bobbing of my head. 'It feels like I have a fucking brick as a head.' I thought while my eyes are only halfway open.

Soonyoung of course notices, and is about to ask if you're okay. But before he can, your head is immediately met by the hard table resulting in a loud 'bam!' sound. You remained still, already fast asleep. Luckily for you, there was only four other people in the room that don't seem to really care.

'Her position looks really uncomfortable..' he thought. An idea came up, but he ponders for a bit since you might not approve.

Finally he caves in and gently brushes the stray hairs out of your face, admiring your face in the process.

"So cute.." he said quietly as to not wake you up.

He shifts your position and now you're head is laying on his shoulder while his arm is securely wrapped around you. You unconsciously snuggle closer to him.

You stir a bit and notice your change in position. You look up and see Soonyoungs face, but before you can say anything he silently assures you that it's okay.

You ponder for a bit but doze off again, wrapping your arms around his waist slowly.

'I guess he's not that bad..' I thought before fully letting darkness engulf my vision.

He prays that you won't kill him when you fully wake up but for now, he'll enjoy this moment with you.

#kpop #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n #fanfic #au #oneshot #x reader #svt fluff #fluff #svt fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen #seventeen fanfic

[faevibing]

this has been sitting in my drafts for months and i'm finally posting it.

it's adding on from this post about Fantine and sex work in les mis. this post ended up being long and more about sex work than Fantine but it does come around i swear.

the way we discuss Fantine is very important, but why?

the way that we talk about Fantine and sex work in les mis - on tumblr, with our friends, in the brick club chat, in articles and in scholarly analysis - directly correlates with the way we treat modern day sex workers and the struggles we face today. notably, the fight for decriminalisation.

i'd argue that Fantine is the most famous of the "dead sex worker" trope. i'd argue she's one of the most famous fictional sex workers. she was just name dropped in the new mean girls movie. everyone knows the story of Fantine the "Miserable Dead Prostitute".

to many people, the book or musical is their first and often only point of reference for sex work, and informs how they treat real life sex workers. many of us interacting in fandom are or will soon be adults with jobs, you could be a childcare worker or a doctor or therapist or any role that makes you a mandatory reporter. and if you hold biases towards sex workers and your patient or the parent of the kid in your class is one, then what.

(you know i had a therapist tell me once that if i had any kids she would "be forced" to report me to the police for "child abuse" on the grounds of my job. that was discrimination and was illegal as i live in one of the four locations in the world with sex work both decriminalised and a protected attribute under discrimination law, but it still happened.)

how people think informs how they vote, and public opinion in turn impacts legislation that actively damages sex workers and puts them in real danger. (criminalisation, the nordic model, "legalisation" also known as licensing, instead of full decriminalisation).

here is a resource put together by NSWP, the Global Network of Sex Work Projects that covers terminology and legal frameworks. I recommend giving the whole thing a read, but if you just want to learn about the difference between the different legal models I'm talking about read from pages 12-14.

full decriminalisation is the safest best practice option for all sex workers. not the nordic model, not select legalisation, full decriminalisation for all workers including those who aren't "legal" citizens.

bringing this back to Fantine. when i search analysis of sex work/"prostitution" in les mis, this is the shit i find.

link 1 | link 2

i don't even know where to start on rebranding "oldest profession" to "oldest form of oppression" and "trafficked and forced into the industry" - the trafficking conflation is a common one. the majority of labour trafficking occurs in industries completely unrelated to sex work, with sex trafficking numbers being grossly overestimated. there are no true numbers because under criminalisation victim/survivors of sex trafficking can't safely seek help for fear of being criminalised. decriminalisation helps everyone.

I will also say that the trafficking narrative is a racist xenophobic one used to target migrant workers, making them more vulnerable to higher rates of police violence, detention and deportation. if you want to get deeper into this I recommend reading Migrant sex workers and trafficking - Insider research for and by migrant sex workers.

yet here we see the idea that most of (if not all) sex workers are trafficked or forced, a narrative that removes the agency of sex workers and obscures the reality of labour trafficking. in short, lies which serve to sensationalise and erase real lived experiences, provide publicly-sanctioned excuses for the heavy policing of marginalised communities, and helping no one.

i will quickly say here that you'll never meet anyone who fights as hard for sex trafficking survivors than sex workers and sex worker peer led organisations.

and in the second example, you see how even though they're saying sex work, (so they listened enough to know not to say "prostitute" anymore), but they're still sharing anti-sw beliefs like "selling the body/selling yourself", violent phrasing that denies us not only agency but connection to our bodies, autonomy, and consent.

this is something i'll talk about a lot more in the chapter analysis that i'll get around to finishing and posting one day: but fantine doesn't sell her body to sex work any more than she sells it to the textile factory. how is one form of physical labour "selling your body/yourself" and another isn't? at the end of the day, she still owns her body, just like when i leave a booking i still own my body, just like when i clocked out of my past civilian jobs i still owned my body. we sell labour, we sell services. not ourselves.

noting here that even when discussing exploitation and trafficking, phrasing it as "selling your body" is also gross, still removes the survivors agency and connection to their body, and shows that you're not really a safe ally to survivors at all.

these ideas, that i pulled from the first paragraphs of two of the first analyses of fantine i stumbled across, are the same ones that sex workers around the world argue against when lobbying for full decriminalisation. it's the arguments we have with law makers and councils and saviour organisations and our own families and friends.

i'll talk about this more later but look at how anne hathaway finished playing Fantine and then signed off on a letter and petition against full decriminalisation of sex work and advocated for the nordic model - ensuring that sex workers and trafficking victims alike would be more vulnerable to violent clients and policing.

ironically, the same thing Fantine faces.

so my whole roundabout point is it matters. the way we talk about characters like Fantine matter. this directly impacts how real people treat real sex workers. this directly impacts legislation that directly impacts the lives and safety of sex workers AND survivors of sex trafficking.

just in case i haven't said it enough the safest option for both parties is always complete and full decriminalisation btw 🫶🏻

all links in case they break (sorry for making it longer but i don't trust tumblr with links lol)

tumblr post:

NSWP terminology and legal models source:

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#fantine #les mis #les miserables #les mis letters #lm letters #fantine analysis tag #lm letters sw analysis #sw in les mis #lm letters 1.5 #lm letters 1.5.10 #mine #sorry my capitalisation is all over the place #sorry for the wall of text

[pub-lius]

Hey, so recently I saw a post about the misogyny of hamilton, so I wanted to ask you if it was true. Not the part of misogyny (because in that time it was normal, I guess), but rather how much was? (does make sense?), did it affect the relationship with eliza or with her daughters?

Thankyu!!! (Muak)

hm okay so im not completely sure what you mean but i am going to do my darndest

So, in the time period which Hamilton was alive, which is the latter half of the 18th century, there definitely was a profound attitude of misogyny, but it was very different from what we know today. Most of our idea of sexism comes from the religious revivals of the 20th century (and people who know me know how i feel about the godforsaken 20th century when it comes to history). This is yk your typical idea of a housewife being at home, taking on the burdens of homemaking and child rearing and basically keeping everything together at home while the husband worked a stressful 9 to 5 and didn't do shit at home and weaponized incompetence and implicit biases and yadayada

This was not the case in the 18th century! 18th century gender roles are very different from what we're used to, and even more different than what the Victorians and Edwardians considered the norm. This is especially visible in Hamilton's relationship with women, so I'm quite excited to talk about this.

Firstly, I want to talk about the joker to my batman: Ron Chernow. A major theory he supports in his biography of Hamilton is the two sided nature of Hamilton's perception of women. He says that there is a clear distinction between two "types" of women in Hamilton's wife-- the good, Christian mistress of the house and the stupid, mentally unstable skank. These are his terms. I want to hit him in the head with a brick.

"Together, the two eldest [Schuyler] sisters formed a composite portrait of Hamilton's ideal woman, each appealing to a different facet of his personality. Eliza reflected Hamilton's earnest sense of purpose, determination, and moral rectitude, while Angelica exhibited his worldly side- the wit, charm, and vivacity that so delighted people in social intercourse." -Ron Chernow, Alexander Hamilton, page 133

Yeah, this is horseshit. It gets worse when he compares Elizabeth Hamilton and Maria Reynolds on page 367, but I'm not going to get started because I won't stop. And this isn't about him anyway.

Instead, I want to talk about WHY this is horseshit. First of all, even Alexander "thinks with the wrong head" Hamilton didn't have this fucked up mindset, because it is heavily based in 20th century evangelicalism that didn't even exist in Hamilton's world.

Yes, obviously there was religious attitudes that condemned certain actions from women, but this was not as intense as in later periods. In the 18th century, an upperclass woman, such as Elizabeth Hamilton, would be responsible for maintaining the household, but this meant being in charge of the servants rather than doing the work herself. The work she did do would be maintaining the finances and the family's reputation.

Reputation was everything in the 18th century, and this especially applied to women. Not only did they have to maintain their own reputations, but they had to raise their children to have the skills necessary to do the same, and often had to fill in for their husbands in this department if they held public office. It's very difficult to maintain your reputation if you're beating people with walking sticks in the Continental Congress.

When it came to lower and middle class women, their jobs weren't different in that they carried an equally important role in the family. They would be doing household chores just as well as their husband, and these weren't easy chores that made women "feeble". They very often took a lot of physical strength and endurance, and it wasn't considered unladylike for women to do "men's" chores while their husbands were away. This isn't to say that women in later eras didn't do the same, but it wasn't as publicly frowned upon.

Hamilton had a very unique perspective as he was witness to both sides of this coin. His mother, a single, working class mother would be juggling both the man and woman's role. I think it was really this background that allowed him to have a much more informed perspective on womanhood. He was one of the few men in this period that I've seen write from the perspective of a woman, specifically a grieving mother.

"For the sweet babe, my doting heart Did all a mother's fondness feel; Careful to act each tender part And guard from every threatening evil. But what alas! availed my care? The unrelenting hand of death, Regardless of a parent's prayer Has stopped my lovely infant's breath-" -Papers of Alexander Hamilton, volume 1, page 43.

Chernow attributes this to Hamilton's deeply empathetic nature, which is fair, however I think it also shows that he was able to understand a woman's experience specifically.

I say this because Hamilton does tell us a little bit about exactly what was expected of women in the time during Elizabeth's first pregnancy in a letter that is usually used to call him a sexist, but I think it's a little more complex than that. Here's the excerpt:

"You shall engage shortly to present me with a boy. You will ask me if a girl will not answer the purpose. By no means. I fear, with all the mothers charms, she may inherit the caprices of her father and then she will enslave, tantalize and plague one half [the] sex, out of pure regard to which I protest against a daughter. So far from extenuating your offence this would be an aggravation of it." -Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton, October 12, 1781

In this letter, Hamilton isn't telling Elizabeth that he wants a boy to inherit his fortune, to carry on his name, or the other reasons that were given by his contemporaries for preferring sons over daughters. He specifically states that his reasons are his fear that his traits will be passed onto his children, and that if its a daughter, she will be more discriminated against than his son because of her sex. Essentially, it was easier to be a gay son in the 18th century than a thot daughter. In that question, Hamilton would choose gay son because he knew that men were generally less criticized than women.

So, I'm not saying Hamilton wasn't sexist, because, by definition, he was. He was taught that women were fundamentally different than men, but he didn't look down on women for that, because that simply wasn't normal. You wouldn't be a gentleman if you looked down on a woman for being physically and psychologically different from a man, you'd be an asshole. While their interpretations of these differences don't align with what modern medicine has determined, they weren't the same as in the later eras in American history. Women were, most certainly, oppressed because of these perceived differences, but it was a different system of oppression than what typically defines our idea of sexism.

It's hard to say if it affected Hamilton's relationship with his wife and daughters, as there isn't any real written proof, but I imagine Hamilton's attitude specifically towards women did make their relationship different than other fathers, daughters, husbands, and wives of the time. We do know that Hamilton was a very hands on father who dedicated a lot of time and care towards his children, and he did not treat his daughters any differently than his sons. He put the same amount of energy into their education, though they weren't educated in the same thing, and he seemed to be equally close with all his children.

Hamilton and women is a very interesting topic, and it gets more complicated when it comes to Rachel Faucette and Maria Reynolds and those parallels, but that is a topic for another time. Good thing its women's history month! Hope this helped :)

#alexander hamilton #history #amrev #american history #elizabeth hamilton #women's history #18th century #founding fathers #founding mothers #women's history month #asks

[kiefbowl]

Do you have some advice for someone starting to date for the first time in their late 20s, completely inexperienced? Is there something you would say to your younger self before you started dating? I don't have any self esteem issues but I'm mostly uninterested in sex and I fear that squaring that into a functional relationship and explaining myself will be near impossible. I'm straight btw.

know what you want out of dating and then don't compromise. it's much better staying single then fucking around and finding out on things you really didn't want in the first place. this doesn't mean have a 180 item list on all the perfect attributes you want out of a partner, but how you want dating, sex, and relationships to function in your life. like, some people would love to date around with interesting people for fun, but remain functionally single. some people want to find their life partner. some people want a serious and monogamous relationship but are comfortable with the fact that it doesn't have to be a "forever" kind of love. what are you trying to gain from dating, what does fulfillment look like to you? You don't want to move in with a guy you only kind of like because you think it's too rude to tell him you were only looking for a fwb situationship 6 months ago and didn't have the heart to tell him. You also don't want to be mooning over a guy who told you straight up he just wanted to have sex a couple times.

if you're uninterested in sex, you have to be candid about that, because that's going to be a deal breaker for a lot of people. Nothing is wrong with either you or them. Your sexual appetite may well and probably will fluctuate throughout your life. It doesn't really matter why you're not that interested now unless it bothers you. But here's the thing about not being honest about this when you're attempting to date: you do not want to put yourself in a situation where you feel compelled to perform sexual favors to maintain a healthy relationship. Do not make yourself miserable in the future because of embarrassment today. There's nothing embarrassing about being an adult living through some low libido, and frankly it's something anyone past the age of, like, 23 should completely understand.

Most important: always ALWAYS prioritize yourself. Yeah yeah, in a deeply committed relationship, you have to compromise and think of your partner sometimes in certain ways...you aren't in a deeply committed relationship, so don't break your back making someone happy when you're not getting what you want out of it in return. If someone is nice but boring, why be bored just because they're nice. If someone is funny but lazy, why work so hard just to have a laugh. If someone is dotting but particular, why live a life you don't want just to have things. You have your own life, your own goals, your own morals, your own beliefs, and the key to happiness in dating, sex, marriage, and relationships is to say no relationship is worth my sense of self. Relationships (of all kinds) should be about your life flourishing, not sacrificing.

And have fun :) if it's shit hit da bricks :)

[itsscromp]

Confidence

Hey hey everyone :), such busyness happened I didn't have time to write something new. Time to change that, me and my bestie @callofdudes came up with this idea a while ago for the story you're about to read. so without further ado. Let's begin. Word count:1K

When you first joined the 141 and met Simon your first thought was "Holy shit he's built like a brick shithouse" Yes Simon probably had muscles on muscles. But nevertheless you continued to build your friendship with him and in due time becoming the best of friends.

Simon had scars and burns all over his upper body from his years in the military, these made him very self-conscious about himself, but when he showed you his scars and told the stories behind them. You didn't judge. This made him happier than you could ever know, But usually he doesn't show them to the others. Opting to wear long sleeve shirts every time, no matter the setting. But you helped boost his confidence to gradually go down to short sleeve shirts.

Today he felt super confident, more than usual. You told him to meet him in the gym for a much-needed workout after a long mission. As you two started your workouts, Simon took off his shirt and began his workout. Revealing the scars and burns.

"Feeling confident today Simon??" you smiled at him.

"I guess you can say that. You helped me feel this" He smiled back under his mask. He was really grateful for the friendship he has made with you. You didn't see him as the ghost that the people are afraid of. You saw him for only Simon. so for that was why you were his best friend.

As you two were going about with your workouts. you heard voices reach the base gym, loud and rowdy recruits entered intending to do their workouts. But from the looks of it, it was like they were their just to talk loudly.

It wasn't until one of them spotted Simon shirtless and saw all his scars and burns.

"Oh Ho man check out the freak show." They pointed to him so their friends can see.

"Oh shit your right look at that, he belongs in the circus"

"Fucking hell no one would ever go near him."

Simon tried to ignore them and go back to his workout but he couldn't help but feel shame and self-conscious again for how they were reacting. He slowly stopped lifting the weight and went to put his shirt back on. But this was when you stepped in.

"Si hang on, can you all shut up and leave him alone. He's just doing his workout."

"Oh come on really look at him, he's a fucking freakshow, no one would ever go near him" They smirked at him.

"Yeah honestly I bet he scared you when you saw those ugly ass scars"

"Oh yeah, the only ugly asses I see here are you all. Judging someone based on their appearance, plus that's your lieutenant your talking too so I suggest you best shut the fuck up."

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do. stand up to your ugly bff"

This struck a nerve with you, stepping off the machine glaring at them as you made your way forth to them.

"I suggest you choose your next few words very very carefully" You warned

"You can't do shit, you're just a sergeant. Even if you did you'll be hearing from my lawyers"

"Ah yes R/N, they warned me about you before. Spoiled brat, Onto the sparring mat."

"Oh, you're gonna regret saying that" They cracked his knuckles and pumped his chest to the group before joining you on the mat, readying your sparring positions you began to battle it out.

But as all meatheads do, they only think with their muscles rather than their head. so you had the upmost advantage of easily taking them down every single time. Time and time again you knocked them to the ground every time.

"Ok Ok, I'm sorry !!!!" They screamed as you pinned him to the ground.

"Let this be a lesson for you, All of you" You got off of him and they left. Huffing you then turned to Simon who just looked sad from the comments replaying in his mind."

"Si ??" you walked over to him and rubbed his back.

"They're right, I'm a fucking freak..." He looked like he was about to cry.

"Simon no, your not a freak. they were the freaks."

"Oh yeah ?? have you ever seen this many scars and burns on a human body before ??, Have you ever been scared of how they'd react if they saw you like this ??"

"Simon...."

You then got him up and brought him to the gym mirror.

"You know what I see ??"

He remained quiet.

"I see an extraordinary person, someone who had gone through so much but still comes out on the other side still standing tall. These scars and burns, help tell the story of what happened. Of how you save millions of people every day, of how you fight for what's right. You, Simon Riley, are an amazing soldier and also my best friend, I see you for you. Not what those freaks saw you." You smiled up at him.

He gave a wobbly smile under his mask and pulled you in for a bear hug. By god was he ever so grateful for you. You helped him since the day you two first met. Whatever happens he hopes this friendship will last forever, he wouldn't know what to do without you.

"Thank you y/n"

"Anytime buddy" You smiled at him as he ruffled your hair

Turning to the mirror, you were right, He wasn't a freak. He was Simon and only Simon, his confidence climbed back as he started flexing in the mirror. You gave him the boost he needed.

"There you go" You smiled wide.

"Check this out." He smirked as he started pumping his chest like the Rock. This made you laugh as it was just a pure funny sight.

"Cool party trick buddy, But I'm hungry now" you laughed as you went back to your gym bag

"You're right, I’ll meet you in the mess hall after I shower and we’ll get something to eat." He smiled brightly.

Whatever happens, He'll always have his BFF to defend him from people who see him differently. You, Y/n were his best battle buddy.

Important message to love the body your in, you are perfect just the way you are 😄😄

#simon ghost riley #platonic #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley platonic #simon ghost riley x reader #reader insert #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 2/5

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Chapter Summary: you begin to feel the affects of the curse.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE

It rained the next day. 

It's so bad that you're forced to braid your hair. The gel wasn't working and the frays of your edges curled underneath the humidity.

Lucky you, but that's not where your bad day ended, of course not. 

The storm had forced you all inside, the rain battering against the very thin walls of the hostel. All plans for exploration were delayed. Quickly, your discomfort turned into irritation and then your period started. Of course it did. Thankfully, there was no blood yet but it was the beginning of it. You could feel it in the twist of your gut, the odd ache in your pelvis. It's so subtle that it could’ve passed a stomach ache

But you've never felt your stomach twist like this before. Like there was a needle in your guts that pulled and twisted.

 So yeah, you were on your period and the weather was shit and you were starving. But you didn’t mind, you really didn't. Until then it rained the next day and the day after that and you never bled. 

“It’s global warming,” your roommate whispered, her face still shoved into her book. 'Art and Society of Mayan culture ' it read, the bind of it worn and dirty. 

You relaxed in your own bed. Your leg splayed off the edge.“-just think about it,”

“I'm thinking about it,” You lied. Because you’ve actually been reading the same  ‘Wikipedia’ page for the last five minutes and you were afraid that if you moved a muscle, something just might burst. 

The other didn’t know this though. How could she? So she rolled her eyes, lips pinched. “Im serious,” 

“I mean it's May—May," she turned a page, "We're supposed to be touring temples but instead we're-" she looked over at you and then winced. "-I actually don't know what you're doing," 

"Waiting for this bootleg ibuprofen to kick in," you muttered, your phone now fallen asleep. You took a strangled breath. 

"I don't think it's working," 

“Are you sure you don't want tea?” she asked cause she was nice and didn’t know that every word she spoke made you want to bite bricks. You shoved your head into the pillow and tried to suffocate yourself. “Nah, rather vomit,” Last night, you only had one cup and instantly spat it out. You’d rather stick to sink water. 

“I think I'm just gonna die here,” you groaned, ‘cause it would just be your luck really. Then you curled into a ball, your arms wrapped around your knees. The position only made it worse.  Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. 

The woman sucked her teeth, “Right, die in a run down hostel, in the middle of nowhere, that's not inconsiderate,”

“Kindly fuck off,”

“To get tea? Yeah I'm suddenly in the mood,” you shot the woman a glare, and suddenly it's her that's ignoring you. The look on her face smug as she jumped into some trousers and walked out the door. 

You took the moment to look out the window. It faced the front streets, above all the pop shops and grocery bags. Below you, people ran to get away from the onslaught. No one wanted to drive today, clearly. People bustled in the streets, business men went home and school children ran with their bags over their heads. Anything to get out of the rain. 

Except one, a lone figure at the edge of the sidewalk, who stood straight, unaffected. He did not wear an umbrella or a raincoat for that matter. Instead, his shelter was the leaves of the sidewalk trees. It flicked and fettered over him, it also did a shit poor job of actually keeping him dry. He looked at your Hostel. Unmoving. In your delusion, he was also blue, he looked very very blue.

Your face pinched and then the needle in your stomach twisted and your intestines curled and you forgot all about it. At least some people didn’t mind the rain. 

—-

It never stopped raining. Not truly. It might've drizzled, or splashed or allowed a pause within the bulging of clouds and the clap of thunder but it never actually stopped. Not for more than a few minutes anyway. 

Time only existed within the ratatat typing of rain. Between the moment where it splashed and melded into the streets. 

You didn't know what was more irritating, the cramps or that sound. After a few moments, your roommate picked the sound and that was all you needed to hear before you popped another ibuprofen and migrated to the play rooms of the hostel. 

Play room was stretching it though. It was simply a small living room with an ancient boxed tv and folding chairs. It's crowded when the two of you get down there. An odd mix of your classmates and other residents and they’re all watching the news on the weather. 

‘Unexpected’ they said, ‘unlikely to stop anytime soon,'  which in other words meant your earlier sentiment was right. 

You were never leaving this hostel and you were all feeling it. You've never felt so bored, so hungry. And the daily work assignments and sandwiches in the fridge weren't cutting it. You guys were going to have to leave the hostel for food eventually. Maybe that's why you were feeling the way? 

 It was a good hypothesis as the pangs in your belly tightened. You've never felt a hunger like this before. Strong and potent. 

So, a few hours later you're outside now. A few blocks away from the hostel and filled with enough ibuprofen that it might not be the storms that’ll kill you. There's only one grocery store on your street. It's an artificial beacon of fluorescent lights, the door rung when you opened it.  

With wobbly knees, you walked inside and the weather followed. A man with a mop looked up and glared at you. You ducked into one of the aisles.  

You needed something sweet, something heavy. Bread? No. Ice cream? You ran through each aisle. And then you walked and then your just sort of sludged your way around. Each movement made the world curl into itself, your floor tilted beneath your feet. 

By the time you actually got to the front again nothing looked appealing. Tortilla bread suddenly looked too heavy and chorizo looked too much. You looked at your basket, lips downturned. 

Maybe you should just get a drink instead. But even that made you want to curl into yourself. Soda was too much. A lemonade too sweet. What about water? At that your stomach twisted and turned, cold than hot. The cashier looked at you plainly. 

“¿Eso es todo, señora?" you blinked.

He was an older man, with sunken eyes and gray hair that was long but tied into a tight ponytail. He gave off a scent of artificial pine tree, his fingers battered with callouses. He had a gold tooth and his shirt, although clean, was translucent due to the rain that battered through the window every time a customer came in. 

You licked your lips, warmth in your belly overflowed. You wondered if he’d let you get on your knees. If all it would take was a look and sweet words before you led yourself behind the counter-

“señora?” the man's voice boomed you out of your thoughts, you flinched back. “Sorry, I-” you shook your head, “¿Tienes uh agua?” 

His eye twitched. “pasillo 10,”

Your mouth went dry. You looked to the back aisle, at the long tiled floors that seemed to drag on forever. On a back shelf the water sat pretty.  You licked your lips again. Something in you bloomed. It was exactly what you needed. Water.

With a fevered glance back, you battered your fingers against the counter. One gallon would be just as much as the food. It looked more appetizing too, like it would belly over the thirst that ran in your tummy. 

Like a great way to wash the taste of the man off your tongue.  

You shook your head, “Actually-” 

“-¿Te importaría conseguirlo para mí?” the man just looked at you, their mouth downturned. He looked ready to stay no. 

The aisle wasn’t that far away. And anyone with working legs would be able to make it to the back. But something in your face made the man's face relaxed, the corner of his lips pinched. “fine,” then with a glance, “Pero no vomites en mi suelo,” 

Unlikely. In fact vomiting was a very real possibility. You felt it in your throat, in the overtone and queasiness that slobbed in your tummy. 

You looked at him as he left. Watched the skin on his back, the sweat that twinkled down his spine. Your stomach flipped and turned. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your lips dry. What kind of hunger was this?  

What kind, made you want this? Claws in your back, and kisses on your chest. You wanted it bad, like a bird wanted murder and a plant water, it was a need, a cancer that furloughed in your deepest cavities and bloomed. Ricocheting like a bullet before you fell to your knees and vomited it all out. 

—

You don't go out much after that. 

#namor x reader #namor x fem!reader #namor x black reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor smut #namor x black!reader #namor x f!reader #black panther smut #namor fics #black panther fic #namor lemon #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

[thatharringrovehoe]

Thinking of a harringrove childhood friends AU where Billy was originally born in Hawkins. Steve and him meet at the Hawkins community center during baby play group and are immediately inseparable. Steve seems to go through all his growth spurts at once, sprouting up the summer of third grade and towering over all the other kids when they get back to school. Billy goes to Steve's house almost every day that summer to sit with him in Steve's room and watch movies because the growing pains are so bad. Meanwhile Billy barely seems to grow at all, a premature baby and then a sickly kid that all the other boys poke fun at. He gets pushed into lockers and shoulder checked in the hall so often that no one notices all the bruises he's got are from home. They're best friends from diapers all the way up to middle school, Steve at Billy's side like a bull dog, ready to lay into anyone who messes with his best friend.

"You can't protect me all the time, Steve." Billy's words whistle through the gap where his missing baby tooth used to be. Steve puffs up like a peacock.

"I can so!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh!"

And Billy knows that Steve wouldn't, couldn't, win. Going up against Neil Hargrove. But.

"..Promise?"

Steve grabs Billy's face and smooshes his cheeks together, brown eyes big and beautiful and serious. There's a scrape on Steve's chin, raw and pink from where he smacked into the pavement during school today. David McKinney took Billy's dessert from his lunch box, an apple turnover his mom had made special, and chucked it into a puddle. Steve came out of nowhere and tackled the kid like a linebacker. Nine years old and ready to take on the world to keep Billy from hurting.

"I promise Bills. I'm always gunna protect you. Forever and ever."

Billy's heart flutters behind his ribcage, a flock of butterflies beneath bird bones.

"But why?"

His own dad knows he's worthless. Knows Billy is...wrong. And forever is such a long time to waste on a broken thing.

Steve scrunches up his nose, confused and pretty and Billy wants to hold his hand like in the movies. Like the ones his Ma cries over when his father isn't home.

"Because I love you, dummy."

And they're to young to know what it means but old enough to know that it's true. Billy reaches out, knuckles brushing Steve's in a question.

"BILLY!"

They both jump. Neil's truck rumbles ominously in the Harrington's driveway outside. He doesn't want to go home. Billy wonders if Steve would tackle his dad if he asked him to.

The next day Steve finds out that Neil moved him and Billy out of Hawkins that very night. His Ma had skipped town and left behind her little boy to a monster.

Steve cries for a month straight. The world keeps turning, seasons change and years go by. He grows out of his awkward stage and all the girls want to talk to him, but none of them fill the hole in his chest. He throws parties and drinks with all the other kids and wonders every day if Billy thinks of him at all, out there surfing the Pacific with the sun bleaching his curls.

And it's not until senior year during Tina's Halloween party that Steve gets an answer. Because Tommy Hagen comes bounding out of the crowd, smile sharp and mean while the people behind him part like the red sea, the new kid he's heard people talking about making a beeline straight for Steve. Eyes locked, unwavering.

"Got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!"

Steve can't hear him. Can't hear anything over the 'thud thud thud' of his heartbeat in his ears. And it's been seven fucking years and a whole lot of puberty since Steve saw him last, but he would recognize those eyes anywhere. His best friend is built like a brick shit house and covered in leather and cheap beer and spit and Steve doesn't know if he wants to cry or drop to his god damn knees.

Probably both.

Billy's smiling something wicked, tongue caught in his teeth while he gets up real close. Steve wants to bury his face in Billy's neck and hold on to him until the walls fall down around them. His voice is so much deeper than the crackly squeak it was when they were just kids.

"Miss me, pretty boy?"

And Steve feels like he should say something clever. Something cool and suave and more put together than 'I think when you left for California, you took a piece of me with you' or 'I go out of my way to pass by your old house every day after school and it's not even on my route'.

What comes out is a shaky "Yeah. A whole fucking lot, actually"

Billy looks pleased. Relieved almost. Like he didn't think Steve would care. As if Steve could ever forget about someone like Billy.

"Oh yeah? You waiting for me or somethin?"

Steve knows what Billy's looking to hear. The party goes on around them, Tommy looking more confused by the second. Steve couldn't give less of a shit.

"Yeah Bills." He says. "Forever and ever."

#I'm writing a fic for this but i figured I'd post the original discord blurb that inspired it #childhood friends AU #harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #discord blurbs #that hoe writes

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — after two months of radio silence and he suddenly comes back to your life but he's not alone .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.3k

i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit

been saying "yes" instead of "no"

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though

it's been two months since you last saw steven. two whole months of leaving all your texts on read, missed all your calls, two months since he said and promised to go stargazing with you for your birthday. the celebration passed with no sight of him, making you blow your candles out by yourself in the middle of the park you two frequented under the light of the stars. now you and steven aren't dating. you didn't put a label on your relationship, haven't really spoken about it but you know there was something between you, a spark, an unspoken chemistry. now it seems like it's only you who thought so.

the taxi you hailed was a friendly old man, who played some jazz music on low volume while also chatting to you about his granddaughter. you indulge his friendliness, making small talk here and there but throughout the ride you had stayed silent, head leaning against the window as you watched the bleak scenery of london pass you by.

until you pass by a familiar street, a small waiting shed where you and steven would wait with giggles having run there in hopes the bus hasn't arrived yet whenever you stay over. you spy a mop of curly hair. it had you sitting straight in your seat and the car blocking your view made you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of your friend-but-not-really-friend steven. the vehicle passed by after a second, but to your dismay, it wasn't him.

you let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as you sink back to your seat. if the driver had noticed your strange actions, he made no comment about it.

i hit the ground running each night

i hit the sunday matineé

you know the greatest films of all time were never made

today was a cloudy sunday evening. it was half past five and the streets were slowly beginning to fill up with tourists and people wishing to spend a quiet evening out and about london's cobble streets. many, if not most, of them can be seen filling pubs and bars that littered the main street. your cab slowly comes to a halt, stopping in front of a quaint yet lively bar, the faint noise of laughter and a live band playing can be heard through the closed doors, the large windows showcasing patrons enjoying their drinks with their chosen company, talking amongst themselves, enjoying themselves. somehow, you envy them a little.

"this is your stop miss." the old cabbie smiles as he turns his head a little to face you. you hand him a 50 pound note with a smile of your own, "keep the change." you told him as you grabbed the strap of the guitar case next to you. you exit the cab, waving goodbye to the kind cabbie as he drives off.

your fingers tighten their hold to the guitar case as a chilly autumn breeze nips at your nose, other hand holding the lapels of your white denim jacket, the sleeves nearly consuming your fingertips. it was a couple of sizes too big for you but you always insist on wearing it. a little something you stole from steven's wardrobe, not that he minded. you clutch the fabric a little too tight to yourself, one of the few things you kept that reminded you of steven in his absence.

you walk through a dimly lit alleyway, entering the bar through its backdoor hidden within the building's gray bricks. warmth floods you as you step inside the staff/break room, greeting the guard stationed at the corner with a quiet 'good evening' as you walk past him before you slip past the red curtain that separates the small break room from the bar itself.

cozy booths covered most of the floor, the bar on one corner of the building and a stage at the other where a band was casually playing.

your boss, a burly woman with a passion for alcohol, waved at you from her spot behind the counter, tending orders of her regular customers that sat in front of her. you wave back with a smile before climbing up the stage, speaking softly with the members up there about your performance tonight. you talked briefly with them as you kneeled to open the case protecting your guitar, stamps and random stickers littering its shiny brown body, a singular name inked with permanent marker near its neck in neat letters. steven.

usually the small writing makes you smile before you begin performing, today though, it does nothing but tug at your heartstrings painfully and force you to tear your eyes away from it. you sit at the tall chair on the stage, one foot up on the wooden step to rest the weight of your guitar's body on your thigh, stationing yourself in front of the microphone placed front and center of the round platform.

i guess you never know, never know

and if you wanted me, you really should've showed

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

and it's alright now

"good evening ladies and gentlemen. happy sunday to you all. i hope you're enjoying yourselves tonight but let's liven it up a bit more, yeah?"

the night rolls by like clockwork, you sing and strum your guitar to requests made by the customers tonight. it stays like that for a few hours until the clock strikes 10. the bar has filled up quickly with patrons having to share booths with each other, the small space in front of the stage is filled with drunk people singing along to the songs as they place their tips on the small jar next to the mic.

you smile at them with ease, the music and melodies taking your mind off of your missing friend-but-not-really-friend.

"okay, what do you guys suggest we play next?" one patron yells out the 1 by taylor swift, female by the sound of it to which you nod, signaling the band behind you to ready themselves. "ooh i like that suggestion, hope you guys don't mind if i pour my feelings out to the song yeah? to all those whose heart long for another, those that wonder what could have been... i hope you find some comfort tonight because you're not alone."

the pianist and drummer nod to each other, tapping the drumsticks together three times before the keyboard begins to play with its signature opening, quickly followed by the strum of your guitar and the quiet beats of the drum.

the door jingles open but you don't notice the sound over the music and the ladies inside the bar singing along. two new customers find an empty corner booth for themselves to enjoy, the female opting to order for her and her company by the bar. once she's out of sight, dark eyes like molten chocolate find your form on stage, singing happily alongside the small crowd in front of you, easing easily to the chorus of the song.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

if you would've been the one

"give me the body marc. please." steven pleads desperately from the reflection of the window beside marc, the latter sighs, well aware as to why his alter is acting that way before surrendering the body to steven. eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second before a small gasp escapes his lips. steven's in control now.

for once, he's glad nobody really pays him any mind, even in the crowded bar. he had to beg marc to come here as soon as they came back from egypt, having disappeared without any word after getting sacked from his job at the museum.

it wasn't that he forgot about you, no, but between stopping an ancient egyptian god from being released to the world, being shot at and dying, learning about himself and marc and layla (he still feels bad for kissing her because he likes you a lot), he simply didn't have the time to. now here he was, after two months of complete radio silence, watching you sing from his corner of the bar.

he wants to tell you that he's here, talk your ear off about all that's happened to him but he was gone for some time, feeling unsure on how you'd react if he makes himself known.

sure you've known each other for some time now, you two were friends, best friends even although steven desperately wanted more. he's never admitted it though, happy to stay as friends with you if it meant keeping you by his side, too afraid that if he confesses, you might leave him to be by his lonesome self once again. steven can't handle that, he doesn't want to be alone again.

he wants to be selfish but he's scared it might drive you away, even more so after the stunt he'd pull for seemingly ghosting you. layla returns to their seat with two pints of beer in hand. she was about to call out to her husband until she takes note of his posture.

hunched shoulders as if trying to make himself small, the nervous bounce of his leg as he runs a hand through his slicked back hair causing a few curls to fall in front of his face. she sees his eyes, wide and openly staring at the lady performing on the stage, longing lingering within those earthy eyes with every passing second. "steven?" she calls as she set their drinks down on the table and taking a seat at the chair beside him, "are you okay?"

it was a simple question. at first he nods, mumbling a small 'yeah' before pausing and then shaking his head. "actually no, no i'm not okay layla." steven sighs, lowering his gaze to the floor before flickering towards her.

"i'm the farthest thing from okay because i might have just missed out on my only chance of asking out the girl of my dreams for, oh i don't know, dropping off the face of the planet around the same time of her birthday that i planned to take her out and celebrate only to get swept up with the whole khonshu and ammit business halfway across the globe?"

steven was being sarcastic but he was also speaking the truth. he had initially intended to ask you out on your birthday, it's why he promised to take you out stargazing, one of his favorite hobbies aside from reading books and learning french.

within the span of two months, layla's become fond of her husband's alter. it's not the same affection she pours towards marc, it was more like that you'd show to a younger brother. she takes his hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze as she flashes him a smile. "you can't possibly know that steven, not until you try."

i have this dream you're doing cool shit

having adventures on your own

you meet some woman on the internet and take her home

as the song enters the second verse, your eyes sweep over the bar, finding familiar faces in the crowd until you see him. in the corner booth by the window is steven's familiar slumped form but he wasn't alone. no. beside him sat a pretty woman, voluminous dark curls and tan skin. her smaller hands curled around his own atop the table. of course. so this was why he's suddenly cut off contact with you, he's settled down with someone else.

for a second you nearly waver and stumble over your words but you were quick to catch and save yourself, tearing your eyes away from the couple.

you feel an onslaught of emotions wash over your already aching heart, willing yourself to keep it together until the end of the song. how foolish, you think to yourself, how foolish of you to think that what you had with steven ran deeper than just friendship. you turn your attention back to the crowd, masking your hurt as you put on a show for them. and try as you might, your eyes keep going back to steven and the woman and each time you look, the more your heart cracks and falls apart.

we never painted by the numbers, baby

but we were making it count

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

maybe you should have told him sooner, told him all about the feelings your heart carried for him but now there's no chance because how can you possibly compare to her? she was pretty, you can tell even from where you stood. you feel a little sick to your stomach.

"i don't know layla, i'm already a proper prick for not even sending her one message for two months. two whole months i didn't contact her and tell her i was fine or even say how sorry i was for ditching her on her birthday of all days." steven sighed, exasperated and tired as he pulls his hands back from her grasp, running them down his face. he's so disappointed of himself.

he doesn't know how he can ever make it up to you. "well, you can always apologize to her first." layla gives him a smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i know it's hard considering you can't tell her anything about what happened in egypt but it's worth a shot."

he shook his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "no layla. you of all people should know how it feels when someone you love completely cuts off any sort of contact with you for months, keeping you in the dark for god knows how long about who knows what. isn't that what happened with you and marc before i found his phone and called you?"

steven's eyes were a mix of serious, hurt and regret as he looks at layla, "it's not fair to her, keeping quiet about why and what happened during those two months. i already broke a promise, i don't want to break her heart too."

i guess you never know, never know

and it's another day waking up alone

your eyes follow their every movement, each touch and each look they share stabs another dagger into your already bleeding heart but you can't look away.

maybe it was some form of self-punishment that you're so unable to take your eyes off them, reminding yourself that you've lost to someone better, prettier, someone who steven was much more comfortable to be with. your voice wobbles but doesn't break, the same way your heart shatters but you remain standing. how foolish, you scold yourself once more, how foolish of you to think you ever even had a chance.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

your fingers grip the neck of your guitar tighter, knuckles turning white with the pressure as his head turns towards you, your eyes meeting. you see his eyes widen and you can feel your own doing the same but you can't look away. god, why won't you just look away?

steven feels his heart rate pick up as soon as he sees those eyes gazing upon him for the first time since they've entered the bar, the first time he's seen them in two months. you've always been beautiful to steven but he can't help but think how gorgeous you are on stage, a singular spotlight shining on you from above.

you look like an angel heaven sent down to earth with that pretty green dress he remembers you bought during spring, your favorite but worn out white doc martens and oh- his white denim jacket he'd let you take from his closet the first time he let you stay the night at his flat. he didn't know you still kept it around, somehow that sends a new wave of guilt to wash over him.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you

if one thing had been different

would everything be different today?

you wonder what it would have been like if you had just confessed to him before... would he still end up disappearing or would you be happy, the same way you two end up being whenever you daydreamed of being in a relationship with steven.

thoughts like that made you happy, got you looking forward to the next time you and he set out on another excursion around london in quiet book shops and music stores. now all it does is put a bittersweet smile on your lips, chest tightening as you sing the bridge of the song, eyes finding its way back to him. and he's still looking at you, his deep pools of amber never leaving your form since you two made eye contact.

steven's afraid that if he looks away, you'll disappear.

"she's all i have."

you pour your heart out to the lyrics of the song as you continue to sing, closing your eyes shut as you press your lips against the mic. can he feel it? can he feel how much you're hurting? you hope he does. because ever since steven's arrival, your heart has split into two.

the song comes to an end, patrons clapping and cheering for more, the small tip jar next to you filled to the brim with plenty of notes and coins. as your fingers stop strumming against the strings of your guitar, you put on your best smile as you address the crowd before you.

"thank you guys for listening, really. i'll be taking a break and let these guys," you point to the band behind you with a breathless grin, "take over again. enjoy your evening folks."

we were something, don't you think so?

rosé flowing with your chosen family

and it would've been sweet

if it could've been me

you pack up your guitar hurriedly before getting off the stage, nearly bolting towards the staff room as you sling the leather case over your shoulders. your hands clasp the doorknob, twisting the copper ball as the frigid autumn air greets you once more.

you don't make it ten steps away when steven's breathless form blocks your path. eyes wide and frantic as he pants, curls falling over his eyes, hands curled into fists beside him. "please wait... give me a chance to explain!"

as it turns out, steven had made a run for it soon as he saw you get off stage, nearly running over bar-goers as he weaved through the crowd and exiting the front door, hoping he wasn't too late. he probably upset marc by leaving layla on her own but he's confident she can handle herself.

he takes notes of your glassy eyes and tense form, making him wish he could reach out and hug you but he can't. he knows better than to make you uncomfortable with him even more. "please." he breathes out almost quietly.

your hands ball into tight fists, nails digging into your palm so harshly you'd break the skin if you applied any more pressure. your lips press into a fine line, refusing to speak in fear that if you do, you'd only break down crying. steven takes your silence as a yes, and he exhales.

taking a step forward, he begins to talk. "i'm sorry. i truly am sorry. for disappearing, for missing out on your birthday, for not letting you know that i was alright, for everything that happened these two months i was gone." when you don't move nor speak, he takes it as a sign to continue.

"i know nothing i say will make this all magically better, i know that but please believe me when i say that i am truly apologetic for going away without prior notice. i know i have a tendency to disappear for a few days, two weeks at most but i've never gone for as long as two months. i can't tell you yet why but please believe me when i say that i did not mean for that to happen."

in my defense, i have none

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. "i don't need you to explain anything steven." his name rolls off your tongue for the first time in a while it almost feels foreign. you sniffle, tears threatening to spill over and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your (his) jacket.

"did you know how worried i was? none of my calls or messages were answered, your flat was empty no matter how many times i visit and gus the second almost died!" you rub your temple with a hand, vision blurring with tears no matter how many times you try to wipe them away.

"i called your work only to find out you were fired, hell i nearly reported you missing to the police after the second week passed and you haven't come back!"

you take a deep breath to calm yourself, brows knitted as you look at anywhere but steven standing just a few feet in front of you. "i stayed in your flat at least three times a week waiting for your return, praying to whatever god was listening that you were alright, breathing and alive."

pausing, you finally gain the courage to face him as he too let the tears fall down his face. "i thought you were kidnapped, or worse dead. alone, somewhere i don't know because you can't send me one fucking message that you're okay!" with every word you say, the tone of your voice raises, finally letting out your frustrations and sadness and hurt the last few months have caused you.

"i know i'm just your friend but i thought you'd at least have some decency in not making the people that care for you sick and worried to the bone!"

for digging up the grave another time

steven whimpers but he knows you're right. it's inexcusable how he had never made time to update you, writing a simple text of 'safe, be home soon' would take him less than two minutes, hell he can do that in even less but he didn't. he didn't. and in return it had caused you to worry and panic.

his head hangs low in shame, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you take it all out on him. marc was protesting in his head to return the body to him, not wanting steven to feel so.... miserable, although he was one of the biggest reasons why his friendship with you was falling apart. "i'm sorry..."

"i didn't realize i meant so little to you."

it was this one sentence from you that had his head snapping up, waving his hands in front of him as he sputtered, trying to convince you that you meant the world to him.

"n-no! no, no, you mean a lot to me okay? you mean so much to me you wouldn't believe me!" he hears you laugh but there's no humor in it, dejection and defeat hanging over you like a dark cloud. "you're right steven... i don't believe you. because that's not how it felt to me these past two months."

but it would've been fun

he makes a noise, the sound was a mix between a whimper and a cry as he tries to block your path once you begin to move away from him. "please, please believe me! you mean everything to me okay? everything! i love you!"

silence fills the air as you stop in your steps. looking back at him, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as you speak with the softest yet broken voice he'd ever hear from you. "and i love you. i loved you. and if you really feel the same, please just let my heart break in peace."

there's a pregnant pause between you as you take a breath with a shudder, shoulders shaking from trying to contain the sobs that wrack your body.

"i hope... i hope you're happy with her. she looked really beautiful tonight." confusion makes his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what you were saying until he hears marc whisper layla's name.

you'd mistaken layla as his partner, his significant other. although you weren't exactly wrong, you weren't right either. he wanted to scream, tell you that she wasn't who you thought she was and that i was you his heart wanted. it's you and it will always be you. but that heartbroken look on your face makes the words die on his tongue before he even had the chance to say it out loud.

it doesn't suit you, the tears, the frown, it doesn't suit you at all, he thinks to himself. he loves it when you smiled, when you laughed fully and he loved hearing you talk. he loves it when you call his name but now, now he might just never get the chance to hear you say it again.

you were right, he should just let your heart break in peace. it was the least he could do for you after all he's put you through, after breaking your heart. he regrets it, he thinks, not telling you that he loved you sooner. perhaps this could have all been easily avoided.

so he lets you go, even though in his heart, greedy as it is, you will forever have a home deep within its crevices, safely nestled and cocooned between his lungs and ribs. you were the one, you were and always will be his only one.

if you would've been the one

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