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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

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

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity. I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages. A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’ Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy. If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

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

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well, when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

145 notes · View notes

getsojaded · 4 years

Text

chemistry || calum hood

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: mentions of weed, swear words, mention of injury, food & the slightest bit of sex talk

a/n: hey twt moots ;)) anyways, this is inspired by this post! i hope u all enjoy <3

It was about 11 pm, and I had just finished taking an unnecessarily large amount of notes for chemistry class. With a sore, shaky hand and a vision that was starting to go blurry, I had finally finished ten pages. Who knew that there was so much information about 5 organic compounds?

I yawned in my seat, stretching my arms out and removing my glasses. I was more than thankful that I can call it a night, and walked towards my bathroom to get ready for bed, which took a good 30 minutes. It usually doesn’t take me that long, but fuck, I was exhausted this whole day. After all my skincare was completed, I walked back to my bedroom and hopped into my bed, prepared for a well deserved rest. After slouching for a good three and a half hours, comforter and pillows had never felt so good against my body.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard a loud ding! from my phone and I opened my heavy eyes, which immediately annoyed me. I ignored the first one and tried to go back to sleep, but one ding turned into six and I couldn’t take it anymore. I angrily ripped the covers off my body, sitting up right after reaching for my phone on the nightstand beside my bed.

6 New Text Messages from: calum hood

hey wyd rn

can you do me a favour

i need your help

im at this party right now and i’m about to get high as fuck but i forgot about our homework for tomorrow and i was wondering if you could do them for me

you don’t even need to make them look pretty like how you do it just take down the important shit

please

“What the fuck?” I whsipered to myself as I looked at my phone. “Who does this bitch think he is?”

to: calum hood

are you fucking serious right now

from: calum hood

please i’m really sorry LOL i completely forgot about it

i know your smarty pants finished it the second you got home please

i’ll literally buy you starbucks tomorrow morning

As much as I hated to admit it, his last text message kind of convinced me. I was a sucker for coffee, and could really stop spending money on it every morning. But was I really about to lose some more sleep just to do the party boy’s notes? I barely know this kid anyways. How’d this guy even get into college?

to: calum hood

is it gonna be a venti

from: calum hood:

if that’s what you want, sure

I knew I was going to regret this decision, but I threw on my glasses and put my hair up once again, walking towards my desk. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I sighed out, opening my laptop and gathering my supplies together. I unlocked my phone, seeing that the time was 12 am. Am I doing this for coffee or am I doing this because he’s attractive and I couldn’t really say no to him? I groaned and leaned my head on my desk, texting him back.

to: calum hood

i hate you so much

get me a venti iced white mocha no whip and an extra espresso shot

actually no make that two extra espresso shots cause bc of your dumbass im staying up

from: calum hood

i gotchu angel

thank you so much, see you tomorrow :)

“Fuck off with the petname and the smiley face,” I angrily cursed at my phone, picking up my pencil and beginning to write another ten pages of notes.

“I hate this bitch,” I said, throwing my pencil onto my desk and slamming my laptop shut. The time was now 3:45 am and tired was an understatement for me. I crawled into bed, falling asleep almost immediatly, hoping that these 5 hours of sleep will give me enough energy to get through class tomorrow.

“You have got to be fucking joking me,” I mumbled, reaching over for my phone to turn off the alarm. I was definitely not a morning person, and the fact that I didn’t get at least 7 hours of sleep meant that I was not going to be in a good mood today.

I slowly crawled out of bed and began trudging towards my bathroom, seeing I had gotten a text meesage from the man himself. I rolled my eyes seeing his name pop up, opening the conversation between him and I.

from: calum hood

goodmorning!

to: calum hood

fuck off

I set my phone aside, getting ready for bed in the slowest way possible. I honestly could care less about what I looked like today, so I decided on a hoodie and sweatpants. I went back into my room and packed my bag with everything I needed, including Calum’s stupid study notes. I threw it over my shoulder, putting on my shoes and walking out the front door, into my car. Thankfully my college was not too far from my apartment, so it didn’t matter if I was running a couple of minutes late.

Parking my car and walking towards class, more and more annoyance filled my body, hoping that nobody would say a word to me, or even better, look in my direction. As I walked into the classroom, I walked towards the empty seats in the very back, choosing the one closest to the wall. I got settled into my seat, leaning the side of my head against the wall, hoping that I’d get the tiniest bit of extra rest.

“The last text message you sent to me wasn’t very nice.” I heard a voice beside me say. I opened my eyes and looked up, seeing the stupid Calum Hood. He was holding two cups of coffee - one for me, and one for him I’m assuming - and was wearing a maroon hoodie, which he actually looked really good in.

“I don’t think you deserve to have a nice goodmorning text, because you are the reason I’m in a pissy mood today, thank you very much.” I responded, taking my coffee from his hand and placing it on my desk. I reached into my bag and took the study notes I wrote for him, slapping it onto the desk beside me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as our professor began to speak up, indicating that class had begun. “What can I do in order for you not to be mad at me?” I turned to look at him. He had the biggest pouty face I had ever seen, which was absolutely adorable. But I’d never tell him that.

“Just shut up.” I sighed, turning back towards the board, opening my notebook and beginning to take notes.

Not even ten minutes later, a green sticky note caught my eye as I was writing. My eyes gazed towards the sticky note, scoffing at what was written on it.

Pls forgive me :(

I turned towards Calum, who was currently well focused on the board in front of us. I lightly chuckled, knowing he was more than pretending to actually pay attention in this class.

I thought I told you to shut up, I wrote underneath his writing and stuck it back onto his desk, and continued from where I left off. I got maybe 5 words in before I saw the neon green appear back onto my desk. I can’t shut up if I’m not talking.

I rolled my eyes before crumbling the paper in my hand, looking at Calum once again. “You’re distracting me. What do you want?” I asked him, the brunette boy turning his head to me once again.

“For you not to be mad at me.” He responded. “What can I do for you to at least smile at me? Besides telling me to shut up.”

I stared at him with the bitchiest face I could put on, then rolled my eyes and began to take down more notes in my book. First, he makes me write ten pages for him and now he’s distracting me in class. Can he leave me alone for at least five minutes?

“And now you’re not gonna talk to me. Fine, be that way.” He grunted. The two of went back to what to we were doing for the remainder of class.

“That’s all for today folks, I hope you have a good rest of your day and don’t forget to read pages thirty to thirty-five and finish questions one to twenty-seven.” Our professor said to all of the class, which resulted in me grabbing my bag and standing up immediately, wanting nothing more than to just get the fuck out of this place.

Please don’t talk to me please don’t talk to me please don’t talk to me-

“Hey wait,” Calum said and grabbed my hand.

Fuck

“Yes?” I asked him, turning my body towards him as he let go of my hand.

“What’re you doing the rest of the day?”

“Nothing, why..?”

I saw that Calum had the cheekiest grin on his face after I gave him my answer. “As an apology for making you write down my notes, thank you very much by the way, along with making you angry this whole morning, how about we go get breakfast on me, and we can do our homework together, except I will do all the work, and you just copy my answers? How does that sound?”

I thought about it. One part of me just wanted to flip him off, go back home and get the sleep I missed out on last night. The other part of me was actually kind of down for that idea. Free food, free homework answers and I get to hang out with pretty boy? I wasn’t really losing anything here, huh?

“I mean, I would say yes, but I took my car here and also I’m dressed terribly right now, the last thing I need is for more people to see me looking like this..” I trailed off, looking down at my current outfit and laughing lightly. “Babe, you don’t even look bad whatsoever right now. However, if you insist, you can go home and change and I can come get you when you’re ready. Is that a plan?” He asked in response. First angel, now babe? What is this guy doing?

“I mean.. I could do that...but-” “Pleeaaasee?” Calum cut me off, pressing his hands together, acting as if he was praying.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go with you! I’ll go home and get ready, and I’ll text you when I’m done.” I responded as the both of us walked out of the classroom, towards the parking lot.

“Pinky promise you won’t cancel on me last minute?” Calum asked, extending his arm and putting his pinky in front of me as we reached my car. I hadn’t even noticed that he walked me to my car, which honestly made my heart flutter when I realized.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed lightly, taking my pinky and sticking it out with his, interlocking it. “Pinky promises mean everything, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” He responded, winking at me then walking away. Getting into my car, I hit my steering wheel, squealing while I repeatedly hit my head against my wheel. “Fuckin’ angel, babe and sweetheart?! What’s next?” I asked myself, driving back to my place to get ready for this little study.. session? Hang out? Date?

I never noticed how nervous I was to hang out with Calum until four different outfits were placed on my bed, with no ability to choose which one looked best. “Fuck, these are all terrible.” I groaned, flopping onto my bed and closing my eyes. I was interrupted by my phone ringing, seeing that Calum was calling.

“I know you pinky promised that you wouldn’t cancel on me, but angel what is taking so long?” He asked, laughing into his question. “I’m so sorry,” I groaned, getting back up and looking at the outfits I planned on my bed. “I’m having a little wardrobe crisis. I have zero idea what to wear.”

“You could’ve showed up in the hoodie and sweatpants and I’d still find you gorgeous,” He responded, making my heart flutter for what felt like the hundreth time today. This man throws small compliments left and right and it’s kind of driving me crazy. “But lemme see what you got planned out. I’ll make it easier for you.” I responded with an okay, quickly snapping a photo of the clothes that were currently on my bed.

“Okay first off, none of these are bad at all. I think you could’ve chose any of these and rocked all of ‘em. Second, little shirt big pants is always the way to go. I say the second one.” He told me, choosing a white long sleeved shirt and the baggiest light wash jeans I had in my closet. It might’ve been basic, but Calum was right - you really can’t go wrong with a little shirt big pants combination.

“Okay, thank you.” I sighed in relief, taking the clothes into my hands and walking into the washroom to change. “You can come now, I’ll text you my address. I’ll probably be done by the time you get here.”

“Now was that so hard?” He asked in response, causing the both of us to laugh. “I’ll see you in a bit. Bye bye!”

“Bye Calum, see you later.” And with that the call ended. I quickly changed into my clothes, put my laptop in my bag - along with everything else I needed - and slipped my shoes on. Once I finished doing so, I heard a loud honk outside, indicating that he was outside.

Walking out of my house I saw Calum exiting his seat, walking over to the other side and opening the door for me. “Wow, what a gentleman.” I laughed as he closed my door and got into the drivers’ side once again. “You look great.” He told me, his eyes focused on my outfit. “All thanks to you.” I said nervously, as he started the car. “Where are we going again?” I asked him.

“You can never go wrong with IHOP,” He said proudly, with a wide grin on his face. “How’d you know I loved going there?” I asked him, gaining a chuckle from him in response. “Not sure if you knew this, but I’m a mindreader.” He joked, causing me to roll my eyes and laugh in response.

Arriving at the place and ordering our food, Calum and I began to have a little conversation. It started off with an are you still mad at me? which resulted into talks about other classes, finals and parties.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to a party?” He asked in shock, me shaking my head as I took a sip of the water that was given to me. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been in college for what, two years, and you’ve never been to one?!”

“Yeah, in case you didn’t notice, I go to school to learn and not to party. I don’t ask people to take ten pages of notes for me so I could blaze up, unlike somebody I know,” I responded, Calum looking at me in disbelief. “I cannot believe you just called me out like that. I said I was sorry!”

“Yeah yeah, I know. You’re making up for it with free food and free homework answers, so I decided to get over it.” I responded, laughing. “Also, when are we gonna start doing the questions?” I asked as the waiter came with both of our plates of food, thanking them as we began to eat.

“I mean, we could go back to my place and work on it, if that’s alright with you.” Calum said, his mouth full of pancakes. “Is that your way of trying to get in my pants?” I asked jokingly.

“You’re a fiesty one aren’t you?” He asked, with a simple nod from me in response. “Well to answer your question, no that is not my way of doing such a thing, I’d be much more smooth about it.”

“Oh, so you think you’re slick or something?” “Nah babe, I know I’m slick.” There’s the cocky party boy that I was much more familiar with. I rolled my eyes in response.

“I’m gonna ignore what you just said.. Anyways, I am fine with working on it at your place.” I told him, getting a nod in response. Throughout the whole breakfast, we got to know each other quite well. I learned that he played soccer in highschool, but due to a torn ACL he had to quit. But because of that, he got into music and started playing the guitar. I told him that if there’s enough free time when we finished, he should play me something. He happily agreed to it, saying that I will fall in love with him after I hear his singing. I just roll my eyes at his cocky compliments about himself.

I also got to hear his totally wild college parties that he goes to, telling me about this one time one of his friends’ houses got shut down due to the various noise complaints from neighbours down the block. “you should come join me in one”, He offers, with a “fuck no” in response from me.

“C’mon, they’re not that bad. They’re actually really fun, and everybody’s always so nice.”

“I literally can’t tell you the last time I got high, and the last time I got drunk it was not pretty, I’m retired from that shit.” I said, as he paid for our food and began walking back to his car.

“Oh, so you used to be rowdy?” He asked, the two of us laughing in unison. “High school me was a different story, we don’t talk about that.” I responded. “The things I would do to see that side of you. You gotta go to at least one before you get outta this place. They take a lot of stress off your shoulders for the night.” He told me as we walked towards the front door to his place, which made me laugh at the fact that he tried to make parties seem like a really good thing. A simple Maybe, was all I responded with as we got settled into his apartment, which was fairly clean to my surprise.

We were currently sitting across each other at his dining table, the both of us reading over the textbook and him answering the questions after every section. He worked effeciently, which also took me by surprise. I underestimated this guy a lot, didn’t I?

A good two hours later, Calum had finished all the questions for homework and I had finished copying them down, thanking him for doing such a thing.

“It’s no problem. I had no idea that the notes were ten fucking pages long, you deserve a break after that- wait, you wear glasses?” He asked me, analyzing them.

“Yeah, only at home though. I don’t really like how they look on me,” I replied, taking them off and rubbing my eyes. He took them in his hands and put them back on me, smiling. “They look really cute on you, I like them.” He said, causing me to blush. “What’re you so flirty for?” I asked. Keep these compliments up and I might just fall in love with you before you even sing, I thought to myself.

“Well, with somebody as pretty as you, I gotta slip in a flirty remark every chance I get, eh?” He smirked, taking my hand, and taking the both of upstairs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, my guitars in my room.” He reassured me as we walked inside his room. He took the guitar from the side of his room, and sat on the edge of his bed, gesturing me to sit down next to him.

“Ready to fall in love with me?”

“Try me, Hood.”

He chuckled, playing the intro to Sam Smith’s Leave Your Lover. “Holy shit, I love this song,” I whispered, watching his hands strum the guitar.

He began to sing, immediately amazed by his voice. It was so soft and raspy, I literally could listen to it all day. I closed my eyes, leaning my head on his shoulder. He laughed softly when he noticed, continuing on with the song.

He finished playing the outro, which caused me to open my eyes and look up at him. “So, how was that?”

“It was beautiful, your voice is so pretty.” I responded, smiling at him. “You should drop outta this whole college thing and just become famous.”

“Oh man I wish, but I think it’s too late for that.” He told me, now leaning on my shoulder, which made me want to scream and kiss him. “Did you fall in love with me yet?”

I patted his cheek with my hand lightly. “Not yet Cal, not yet. Stil kinda angry about that whole ten pages of notes thing.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nah.”

He laughed, then took my hand and intertwined it with his, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “What if I told you I’d be down to do this again, minus the whole ‘let me do this for you today as an apology’ thing?” He questioned, lifting his head from my shoulder and looking at me.

“What do you mean, ‘this again’?”

“I mean picking you up with a coffee before class, bothering you the whole time, getting breakfast with you afterwards, studying together, and then playing a song for you once we get too lazy to finish our assignments.” He replied with a soft smile that made my heart warm and my cheeks red.

“And what if I told you that I’d be down to do those things aswell?”

“Well then my love, I will pick you up on Wednesday at 8:15 with a venti iced white mocha with only one extra shot of espresso, because I won’t keep you up to write more notes. After class, I’ll take us to any place you wanna go. Denny’s? IHOP? Waffle House? You name it. Then, we can go back to my place, study our asses off and then I can play you as many songs as you’d like. How does that sound?” He offered, the biggest smile appearing on my face.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Now if we’re going to be doing this... does this mean I can finally take you to a damn party?”

“Fuck off, Hood.”

#calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood imagine #luke hemmings imagine #michael clifford imagine #ashton irwin imagine

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starlightsearches · 4 years

Note

Could you write a modern au, Armitage Hux x Reader oneshot in which Hux is a well respected CEO in the center of Manhattan and the reader is just a barista at a local coffee shop that’s right across from Hux’s building. On an off day Hux is forced to take the bus. He recognizes the reader because he’s gotten coffee from her shop before and decides to start a conversation. He ends up taking the bus more often just to see the reader and she ends up questioning him why. Sorry if that’s so specific.

Sunshine

This is definitely not too specific, and I’m OBSESSED with this concept! Thank you for this request. I have this for you, hope you like it!

This was partially inspired by @amadwomanrambles wonderful CEO! Hux headcanons that you can find here. I also posted my own hcs earlier today about him (here), and I’m such a slut for this au I’ll probably post more!

Requests are closed ✨

CEO! Hux x Barista! Reader Modern AU

Warnings: Pretty much just language! Enjoy 😊

When the interviewer from Forbes Magazine asked Armitage Hux—CEO of First Order Enterprises and one of the youngest millionaires currently residing in New York City—what the secret to his success was, he had a ready response: strict adherence to an optimized routine. Unlike most of the nonsense he was required to prattle on about in those interviews, this was something that he actually believed.

He started each day the same way: wake to an alarm at 5 AM, exercise, shower, breakfast and the news. After that he’d dress for work, check his email, and then wait for his driver to pick him up from his apartment and take him to the office building in Midtown. He’d arrive at work at 6:15 sharp, and he’d stay there until the sun set each evening. It was a good routine. A safe routine. And he wasn’t about to break it for just anything.

Today he didn’t have a choice. His driver called him at 5:30. She was sick. She could call someone else, but they’d be late. Hux told her not to bother; he’d find another way to work. He didn’t mention the queasiness that piqued in his stomach at the mention of another driver. They’d probably try to talk to him, and he’d have to think of something to say. Hux could handle a boardroom, he could handle a press-conference, he could even handle a fundraiser with sufficient preparation. But one-on-one interaction? With a stranger? He avoided it as often as he could.

But then how to get to work? He wouldn’t take a cab, for the same reasons he didn’t want another driver, in addition to the fact that most were terribly dirty. He never took the subway if he could help it. Hux stares down at the streets below, watches as New York City begins to wake. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a bus stop, only a short distance from the front door of his building. It’s better than walking.

Hux finishes the rest of his morning routine, but there’s little pleasure in it now that he’s been forced to alter it, and his displeasure only deepens after he checks the bus schedule; he’s missed the first one, which means he’ll be late. At least he knows that his coffee won’t be waiting for him, since it’s a Wednesday.

Heat rises in his cheeks whenever Hux thinks about his favorite part of his morning routine. Every day but Wednesday, he gets to spend the last minutes before he walks into work at Pleasant Distraction Coffee, a little shop across the street from the FOE building, and every day but Wednesday, he starts his mornings with you—your smile, the brush of your fingers as you hand him his drink. You always have it ready for him when he walks in the door, and he thinks that you, too, have an appreciation for routine, for order. Not that he can say, for sure. He’s never really talked to you, after all, but he believes that the gesture speaks volumes.

The air is cool and brisk outside his apartment, and he arrives at the bus stop with five minutes to spare. The sun is just starting to rise, the rays of light reflecting off of the windows of his building, and he thinks that New York City looks better when it’s bathed in the golden glow of the morning. It’s almost pleasant enough to make him forget his earlier frustrations, and he’s starting to feel invigorated instead of annoyed, like the day is full of unexplored possibilities. Like maybe he should take the bus more often. He immediately regrets that thought when the bus actually pulls up, coughing a thick cloud of exhaust fumes in his face before it stops. He boards and pays, and then freezes in the middle of the aisle. It’s you.

“Find a seat,” the bus driver calls back loudly, and a few people glare at him as he sits down, but you don’t notice the commotion, mouthing along to the music playing in your headphones, oblivious to the world. You look different out of your uniform, but Hux thinks he’d know you anywhere and he falls into a seat, watching to make sure he’s right.

No, it’s definitely you. Your expression betrays an intense level of focus as you lean in closer to the book you’re reading before you scribble in the margins and then flip to the next page. He never gets to see you like this: looking so awake, so alive. It’s always been hard for him to take his eyes off of you, but now . . .

He should talk to you. He should talk to you because if he doesn’t, and you see him, you would think that he had chosen to ignore you, and he didn’t want that. That is, if you recognized him at all. Would you recognize him? You saw him every morning, but it was always while you were working, and it wasn’t like your interactions with him were particularly unique. You probably handed hundreds of people their coffee everyday. But you did remember his order; that had to count for something. And he’d really like a chance to say more to you than just “good morning.”

The bus stops again, and Hux gathers the courage to move to the closest empty seat. Your eyes stay on your book, your pen resting on your bottom lip. Hux takes in a deep breath before tapping you on the shoulder, and to his horror, you jump, ripping your headphones from your ears and turning to face him.

“Holy shit, you scared me—wait a second, I know you!” Your expression transforms from anger and surprise to one of recognition, and your face lights up when you give him a smile. It’s a genuine smile—not a customer-service smile, like he normally gets. A sunshine smile. Hux has to remind himself to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says when he finally regains the ability to speak, “but I thought I recognized you and I wanted to say hello.” He trails off awkwardly; this was a terrible idea. He had nothing to say to you, but he had to admit that he liked being this close, liked being able to see the way your lashes brush against your cheeks when you look down, pausing the tinny music he can hear coming from your headphones.

“Well, hello,” you say, smiling again. Hux turns his gaze to the ceiling, begging his brain to come up with something to say. Luckily, you carry on the conversation for him, “I’ve never seen you on the bus before. Car trouble?”

“Something like that,” it’s not technically a lie, and he isn’t exactly eager to get into the details of his morning. What would you think of him if you knew he had a personal chauffeur while you were forced to take the bus?

“Hmmm, that sucks. If you need a mechanic, I know a guy.” You pull a slip of paper out of the back cover of your book and nestle it between the pages, closing it and resting it in your lap. Hux takes this as a good sign—you want to keep talking to him.

“It’s being taken care of,” he says, and then, hoping to change the subject, “what’s your stop?”

“Oh, I’m headed to NYU,” you say, nudging your backpack on the floor with the toe of your shoe.

“You’re a student?” He should have guessed, but the information surprises him. You seemed older than most of the students he sometimes saw running around campus when he went to give guest lectures in the business school every semester.

“No, I just like going to the library on my days off,” you say in explanation, like you already knew what he was thinking, “It’s quiet there and my roommates are loud, so . . . ” The bus jolts to a stop again, and you’re almost thrown into him, until you brace yourself against his shoulder. Your hand lingers just for a moment before you move it back your lap once again, mumbling a quick apology. Hux changes his mind again, he should definitely take the bus more often.

“This is an early start for a day off,” he says, and you laugh.

“Yeah, it is. I guess all the time I spend serving coffee has kind of ruined my ability to sleep in,” you say, and then with some hesitation, “you work for First Order Enterprises, right?”

“How did you know that?” God, he hopes you don’t read the tabloids. He’s only minor fodder for the parasites who write them—there are many bigger names in New York than his—but the articles aren’t exactly flattering, and he’d hate for you to have a negative opinion of him before he even had a chance to get to know you.

“Well, I do see you walk into the building every day,” you say in explanation, and he relaxes, safe for now. Maybe it’s a trick of the light as it floods through the greying bus window, but he thinks you might be blushing, and it’s thrilling. Talking to you is surprisingly easy, even when he’s so often distracted by the quirk of your lips, the way your tongue sometimes peaks out of the corner of your mouth when you’re trying to think of something to say. Hux takes a chance to look out the window and, to his dismay, he can see the FOE building in the distance. His time with you is almost up.

“I think my stop is next,” he says, and your mouth folds into a small frown. He moves to stand, getting ready to disembark, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” you say, and he hesitates, although he can tell by the streets passing by that the bus will be stopping any moment now, “I don’t know your name.” Hux winces. Of course he should tell you his name, he knows yours after all; you wear a name tag when you’re working and he had made a point to read it. You don’t release him, expectant.

“I go by Hux,” he says, finally giving in, and you squint your eyes at him in confusion.

“There’s no way that’s your name,” you say, your fingers dancing over the sleeve of his suit jacket sending sparks up through his arm. It wakes him up better than caffeine ever has; he feels like he could run a marathon if you just kept touching him.

“I go by my last name, actually,” he explains, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for more, “my first name is . . . unique.”

“Well, now I have to know.” Your eyes light up and you smirk, tightening your grip as he feels the bus roll to a stop. He looks to the doors, waiting for them to open, but you tug on the hem of his sleeve to bring his attention back to you, “It’ll drive me crazy if you don’t tell me.” God, you’re pretty when you want something. Hux has a feeling that you don’t hear the word no often, and you certainly won’t hear it from him.

“It’s Armitage,” he finally concedes, and you throw your hands to your mouth, but they can’t keep the squeal from escaping. He gives you a pained look and you lower them, adopting an air of mock solemnity.

“That is unique,” you say, clearing your throat to cover up your giggle, “what does it mean?”

“Mean?” The bus finally stops, and he stands, waiting for the bus driver to open the doors.

“Come on, a name like that has to mean something.” Your finger runs over the skin of his wrist, and he has to lean close to hear you over the sound of the passengers getting on, a few of them shuffling irately past him to find seats. He should leave now, before the bus driver starts up again again, but not without giving you what you asked.

“It means,” he says quietly, “that my father was an asshole.”

You pause only for a moment, and then the sound of your laughter fills the whole bus, a hearty, full laugh that’s like gold in his veins. A few people glare at the two of you, but Hux doesn’t mind the attention. God, that’s a lovely sound. He’d like to wake up to a sound like that. Your hand falls from his arm, and he straightens, heading to the door, but he looks back before disembarking.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Armitage.” You leave him with one last smile as he steps down onto the street. He stays on the curb for a moment, watching as the bus turns the corner, disappearing from view. For the first time in a long time, Hux thinks he has a reason to break his routine.

It doesn’t take long for you to figure him out; certainly not as long as he’d like. It’s the third morning that he sees you waiting for him, a morning that’s overcast and cloudy, but you smile at him when he walks through the doors and it makes everything seem brighter. You move your bag from the seat next to you and put away your book as he joins you—a new routine in its own right. It’s nice to see you in the mornings when he gets his coffee, but he’s been looking forward to Wednesday mornings the most, likes that he can just be with you for a little while.

“So I met a friend of yours yesterday,” you say in greeting as he sits, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Hux doesn’t have many friends, and he had plenty of enemies who might try something devious. “Your driver—I think she said her name was Phasma? She came in for coffee after parking your car.” You’ve got a great poker face, but Hux thinks he can see the hint of a smile at the corners of your lips as you wait for an explanation. His face falls; he had hoped for a little more time to get to know you, and now he has to tell you the truth, even if it might drive you away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he turns away from you, trying to hide his disappointment. Getting coffee in the morning would be much too awkward if this conversation did not go well.

“When were you going to tell me?” You speak seriously, but everything about you is tinged with an infectious sort of humor, and it gives him a fragile sort of hope.

“I was actually hoping that I wouldn’t have to,” he responds, and you sit, waiting, staring him down with impenetrable eyes, “I just . . . wanted to get to know you.” You do smile then, a small, incredulous smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Well, since we’re being honest, I have something that I should tell you,” you don’t look at him as you speak, instead you rummage around in your backpack, pulling out your book again and flipping through the pages. He braces himself, waiting for the worst. Were you about to tell him that you had a boyfriend? Or that you weren’t interested? He looks out the window; his stop is close, but not close enough if he has to deal with the mortification of your rejection.

“I wasn’t planning on going to the library today,” you begin, pulling a slip of paper out of the back cover of your book, “I just came because I knew you’d be here.” You finally meet his eyes, your expression shy, embarrassed. Hux can scarcely believe it.

“Are you saying . . .” he doesn’t dare finish his sentence, but waits as you reach over, tucking the slip of paper into his waiting hands.

“Here,” you say, folding his fingers around it, and the slip crinkles against his fingers before he looks at it, raising it to eye level so he can better read the numbers you’ve written.

“What’s this?” He knows what it is, obviously, but he has to make sure that you’re on the same page. He’d like to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“It’s my phone number. Call me sometime.” He can’t think of a single thing to say, not when it feels like rays of pure light are bursting out of his chest, but he tucks the little paper into his jacket pocket, staring at you like an idiot. You smile back, openly. Even as you’re smiling, he can’t wait for the next one; he’s never seen happiness so at home on someone’s face before.

The bus rolls to a stop, and he’s pulled out of his reverie, standing so that he can disembark. He pats his pocket to make sure that the little paper is tucked securely away before turning to face you, “I’ll call you, tonight if that’s alright?” and you nod in response, looking almost as eager as he feels. He’ll call you tonight, and he’ll see you tomorrow morning, and hopefully every day after that, because he never wants to go another day without seeing you smile.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux #general hux #general hux au #armitage hux au #modern au #my writing #requests #livy1391

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horansqueen · 4 years

Text

You & Me : chapter 45

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: please take note that this is mostly a filler chapter, just like chapter 46 and 47 will be. I have everything planned for 48, 49 and 50 tho. and then the story will be over :( if you want anything added to the filler chapters, please message me. tbh i would love you so so much lol! so yea, im super stressed about ending this story, i cant even explain. ALSO: time will pass quicker in the last few chapters so check the dates!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : the 2 requests added will be posted at the bottom of this post to avoid spoilers!!!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 45 : His chapter

NIALL

August 16th, 2018

I didn't know exactly what woke me up but I just turned around in bed, wrapping my arm around Liv's body and moving a bit closer before trying to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, my phone started vibrating on my bedside table and I groaned when I realized I forgot to put it on mute before falling asleep. I couldn't remember how long how making love session had lasted and I couldn't even remember when I actually fell asleep.

I grimaced and sighed before turning around and reaching out for my phone, searching for it with my eyes closed. My fingers finally gripped it and I decided to sit up, rubbing my eyes as I tried to read the message I had received. I noticed Louis' face next to the message and I frowned. It's not that Louis never texted me but I was still surprised to see that notification, especially so early in the morning.

'Had fun last night? 😏' was all he had sent me along with a link.

I turned to look at Olivia who was still deeply asleep, laying on her stomach, with the covers just over her butt and I finally got out of bed slowly and gently, making sure I wouldn't wake her up. I walked to the kitchen, letting out a yawn as I passed my hand in my messy hair, and decided to make coffee as I clicked on the link.

I frowned when I recognize my living room and I saw myself get up from the couch, suddenly realizing it was my instagram live from the night before. i frowned more, wondering why Louis would send me the link since I couldn't remember saying or doing anything remotely bad but when Olivia's legs appeared in the screen, I realized my mistake. I had probably not stopped the live properly and my heart jumped in my chest, trying to remember what exactly we had said and done right after.

I heard my girlfriend tell me I was a good person and groaned low again when I heard myself ask her if it turned her on. No one could see us kiss since the laptop was placed on the coffee table and we were standing up but even if I was whispering, the words "I'm gonna miss you so much." could easily be heard before she replied that she was going to miss me more.

"Fucking hell..." I whispered as I blinked a few times, staring at the screen where we could clearly see me leading Liv in the hall as she stepped back, our lips attached to each other's as we made out.

She hit the wall and we both laughed as I let out a 'clumsy ass!' the way I always did before an 'I love you' escaped my lips. I felt my heart jump in my chest knowing so many people had actually witnessed something so personal and I swallowed before sighed and passing my hand in my hair again. We disappeared from the screen as the sound of a door being closed could be heard and I realized the video lasted 4 more minutes where nothing could be heard or seen. It had probably been about an hour since I started the livestream which was why it finally cut and I put my phone away and closed my eyes, wondering what exactly would be the repercussion of this video. I didn't want to go on twitter to read what people were saying but I knew that I would at least have to tell Liv about it.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and my lips curled slightly when I heard my girlfriend yelled from the bedroom.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

"Okay, she already knows." I whispered to myself, taking a sip from my hot drink and leaning against the counter.

It took her only a few seconds but I saw her appear in front of me, her hair even messier than mine and wearing only my shirt. I wanted to be stressed by all this but when I saw her, my lips curled in a fond smile.

"Did Louis send it to you too?" was the first thing that got out of her mouth and I just nodded before turning around and grabbing a mug to pour her some coffee too. "That's it? That's all I get? A nod?"

I took the time to add sugar and cream in her coffee and finally turned around again to hand it to her. She stared at me for a few seconds before her eyes fell on the mug and she sighed, taking it from my hands.

"Is there anything else to say?" I just asked, shrugging a shoulder. "I mean it's on the internet probably forever and honestly, we've been lucky, especially thinking about all the times we actually just fucked on the couch I mean, this video could be so much worse."

She looked away and her eyebrows raised before she grimaced. "Yea, I guess that's some way to see it." she let out before taking a sip. "I just... Gosh I don't know, I feel violated."

"I'm sorry. Honestly, I feel like shit too. It's my mistake and it's a very bad one." I admitted, raising my nose up. "I'm sorry, petal."

Her eyes met mine and she took a step closer, tilting her chin up to keep her gaze locked with mine. I stared at her back as she blinked a few times and her thin lips curled into a fond smile.

"You're forgiven."

I let my eyes roamed on her face, knowing it was a big thing to be so easily forgiven for something like that, especially that we were both aware she would get a lot of hate because of it. I bent down slightly and let my lips brush against hers before closing my eyes and bringing my hands up to her cheeks to deepen the kiss. When we stopped, she kept hers lips pressed against mine and sighed low.

"I'm gonna turn off my notifications on twitter for a while."

I raised my nose up in a grimace and groaned. "Me too." I kissed her lips again. "We can just ignore the comments together. I promise we'll be fine."

"I know." she whispered, her lips brushing against mine. "I trust you."

I felt something stir in my heart at her words, knowing I had lost her trust last year and I had worked hard to get it back. Still, despite my efforts, she didn't have to give it back to me again, but she had, and I couldn't explain how much it meant to me.

"Thank you, pet."

---

August 17th, 2018

I woke up around 10am, knowing I should have been up before. I had a concert on the same night and even if it was barely a two hours ride, we had to get there early to rehearse and make sure everything was in place. I was surprised to realize my girlfriend was not in bed anymore as I reached my arm on the mattress, my hand only meeting the cold sheets of the bed.

Quickly, I opened my eyes, blinking a few times, and stretched before getting up and dressing up. I walked to the kitchen only to see Liv and her lips curled when she saw me. I frowned, still surprised that she was already up, and took the mug she was handing me. I liked this habit that we had to prepare coffee if we were the first one to wake up. We had never talked about it but we just did it naturally and it was one of the many small things that made this whole relationship stronger.

"You're up early." I just pointed out before taking a sip.

"Will you miss me?" she asked quickly, ignoring my comment and making me frown.

"You know I will, petal, why are you asking?" I chuckled, taking a step closer and raising my eyebrows.

The truth was, I didn't want to leave without her but at the same time, I didn't want to force her to come with me. I knew following me on tour was not as fun as it may sound and I also knew she was busy. Of course, the fact that she was done with the season of her show gave her more free time, but the Olivia I discovered after being away from her for over a year was more independent than the Olivia I broke the heart to. She had also been right the last time we had a discussion about being away from each other. She had said it would bring us even closer and stronger together, and it had. We had spent a lot of time texting, facetiming and talking on the phone and I couldn't hide that I had missed her like crazy, but when we finally got to see each other again, it was intense. Besides, nothing would ever stop me from seeing her if at some point, it became too hard to be apart.

"How bad are you going to miss me?" she asked, once again ignoring my question.

"Pet, if I could, I'd put you in my bags and bring you with me."

This answer seemed to satisfy her as her lips curled more and she licked them before putting her mug away. I took a sip in mine but quickly, she grabbed it too and put it next to hers before taking my hand and pulling me with her.

"Are you bringing me in bed for a good fuck or something?"

This time, she laughed and the sound of it made me smile. She brought me to the hall and my lips parted when I saw her luggage in the lobby, laying near the door. I turned to her after a few seconds and she raised her eyebrows.

"If you don't want me to come with you, I'll definitely understand." she just said, shaking her head. "But I've had enough to be away from you. I miss you too much. What do you say?"

I felt my heart jump in my chest and let out a low chuckle before bending down slightly and wrapping my arms right under her butt to lift her up. She let out a short scream and a laugh, making my smile grow.

"Fuck yes!"

"Niall! Put me down! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

I did as she asked and as soon as she was back on her feet, I pushed her against the wall and looked down at her with a smile. She looked up and licked her lips before nibbling on her bottom one, her eyes never leaving mine and a smile still spread on her face.

"I didn't want to force you into coming with me, but fuck, I wanted to ask you to follow me again." I whispered, bending down slightly to brush my nose against hers. "Thank you for coming with me. It makes me so happy, darling."

"I was not sure if you still wanted me to come. I don't want to be annoying, or dependent. I just want to be with you."

My happy smile turned into a fond one. I didn't want her to ever believe she bothered or annoyed me. I was not the kid I used to be when I broke up with her, I didn't see things the same way, and I had learned.

"I always want to be with you. Your presence is a gift for me, I want you to always remember that, okay?" I murmured, feeling my lips brush against hers as I talked. "Don't ever try to be someone else. I love you best when you're just yourself."

She chuckled. "Did you just quote your own song?"

I sent her a smirk and shrugged, my body still pressed on hers. "It's my words, I can use them whenever I want. Besides, I wrote it for you, so."

"Okay but, can I really show you my heart? You promise you won't break it again?"

I rubbed my nose gently and slowly against hers again, making her eyelids flutter slightly.

"I swear." I breathed. "You're everything I want."

---

September 12th, 2018

When I walked back in the hotel room after the show, my lips curled when I noticed Liv coming out of the bathroom, her body wrapped in a fluffy white towel. She looked surprised for half a second and finally sent me a smile while tilting her head. I took a few steps closer and placed my hands on her hips but she quickly took a step back and shook her head.

"Nooo, nop!" she let out, making me raise her eyebrows. "You're all sweaty and shit. Take a shower first!"

"I thought seeing me all sweaty made you horny." I argued, my lips curling into a smirk.

"Watching you all wet turns me on too." she admitted, pressing her lips together. "Go shower and I promise to stay naked, deal?"

This time, I smirked even more and waggling my eyebrows, making her laugh. "Can I get a glimpse?" I asked, pulling gently on the top of the towel and letting my gaze drop in her cleavage.

"No!" she argued, slapping my hand slightly and chuckling. "Hurry!"

I groaned and rushed to the bathroom, getting quickly undressed and starting the shower. I let out a sigh as I tilted my chin, feeling the warm water fall in my face and wet my hair. The past months had been exhausting, mentally and physically, but I could actually say that I was in the exact place I wanted to be. I didn't feel this hole inside my chest anymore. Somehow, it was filled with something that I desperately needed without really realizing it. It was not only the love we had for each other that mattered, it was also the friendship, the history, the trust, the hope and the need we felt toward the other... all of this filled everything that needed to be filled. She was my home, and I was hers. I had never felt like that for anyone else in my life.

I quickly got out of the shower and dried my body and hair before wrapping the towel around my waist. When I walked back in the room, my lips parted slightly and I stopped dead in my track. She was laying in bed, on her stomach, her headphones on as she seemed to read something (a book or a magazine, perhaps?), still completely naked. I stared for a few seconds at the back of her head before my eyes moved down to her ass. I didn't know if she did that just to turn me on but it definitely worked. I took the towel off and let it fall next to me before grabbing my cock in my hand and stroking it gently.

She started humming a song low and I was so focused on her naked form that it took me half a minute to realize it was one of mine. It made the left corner of my lips raise up and I let my free hand run down to my balls as I got harder.

Being able to have sex with her every time I came back to the hotel room was one of the perks of having her on tour, along with many others, of course. I normally prefer to be alone but when it came to Olivia, everything seemed different. I didn't feel stuck in this relationship, or smothered by it. I still wanted us to be private and couldn't wait until people would stop mentioning that video or us after my livestream but at the same time, It didn't bother me the way it would have before. After all, I was dating her, and for the very first time in my life, I wanted it to last forever. Just that thought seemed crazy to me and my heart skipped a beat.

I took a step closer to her and without thinking, I straddled her quickly and stared down as I pushed my cock inside her. She tensed and I felt her walls press around the tip of my cock, making me groan.

"Don't move, baby." I whispered before realizing she probably couldn't hear me.

I kept looking down as I slowly pushed myself more inside her until I was balls deep and moaned low. She felt amazing, as she always did, and my whole body started throbbing. I leaned closer to her, holding myself with my hands near her shoulders, and moved my hips back before thrusting in her again.

"F-Fuck."

The way she whimpered made me smile and with one hand, I took her headphones off and it fell off the bed, making a soft sound as it hit the carpet. I bent down slightly and brushed my lips on her ear.

"I don't think what you're reading is as interesting as what I'm doing to you, is it, petal?"

I watched her eyes flutter closed and her lips part before laying on top of her and slipping one of my arms around her. My hand reached for her neck and I pressed my fingers on her throat as I tried to hold myself with the elbow of my other arm, making sure I didn't crush her or hurt her.

"Is it?" I asked again, a little louder this time.

"Mm, nothing is better than what you're doing to me." she admitted in a whisper, making me smile more.

"How much do you like my cock inside your pretty little cunt, pet?"

She moved her ass up to feel me deeper and I breathed through my teeth at the amazing sensation, remaining motionless for a few seconds. She started wiggling a bit and my grip tightened around her neck.

"So.. so much." she whimpered again, gripping the sheets of the bed with both hands.

"You're so fucking impatient." I whispered with a chuckle, letting go of her throat and sitting back on her legs. "Didn't think I'd find you laying on the bed naked like that, just waiting for me. You have no idea how hard that made me."

I stared down at my cock moving slowly in and out of her as I moved and enjoyed the moans coming out of her mouth every single time I was completely inside her.

"Fuck, Niall, please."

I looked up and grabbed her hair, pulling on it a bit as she let out a louder whimper.

"Fuck, you're so wet." I whispered, gripping her hair tighter. "I want to cum inside you, petal."

I watched her move a bit, her body twisting as she slipped one of her arms under her body to reach for her clit. She rubbed the tip of her fingers on my balls, making me groan, and finally started touching herself, making her ass grind up. I started fucking her harder and faster, in motion with her ass moving up and it only took a minute or two until she started shaking beneath me. The sight was amazing and I groaned as I came too, pushing her hard despite myself in the mattress.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered before going limp on top of her.

I heard her chuckle and my lips curled too as I brushed them on her shoulder. She shivered and I smiled even more when goosebumps appeared on her now damp skin.

"I love having sex with you." she admitted, making me laugh lightly.

"Oh darling, I love having sex with you, too."

I trailed kisses on her neck and shoulder and after a while, I moved next to her, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling. We were on the wrong side of the bed and I felt my heels lean against one of the pillows.

"And I love spending time with you. I love being close to you. I love that you followed me here. I love that you're still my best friend after all this time. I love that we get along so well, that we grew up together, that we're even closer than we used to be." I confessed slowly in a soft tone. "I love that you love me. I love that I love you. I love the team we make. I love you, Olivia."

I turned my head her way and she was staring at her. She seemed on the verge on tears but I knew they were happy tears and I sent her a fond smile before moving on my side to see her better. I brought one of my hands to her cheek and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"The truth is, I can't wait to marry you, to start a family with you, to grow old with you."

Her eyes roamed on my face and she swallowed hard. We both remained silent for a while and she pressed her lips together. It was so endearing that I smiled more and let my fingertips run on her shoulder and down her sides, until her waist.

"You..." she started, stopping herself again for a few seconds before her eyes met mine. "The first time we dated, it was everything that scared you about our couple. That's why you broke up with me, remember?"

I held my head with my hand, my arm on the mattress, and she moved closer, licking her lips and waiting for my answer. Of course I remembered, how could I not?

"I know." I replied, nodding lightly. "I was a fuckin' idiot. I mean, I still am." I shrugged with a chuckle. "But I'm an idiot who will never make that mistake again. I don't want to be with anyone else. And I don't want to be away from you."

"For someone who supposedly suck at expressing his feelings, you're doing quite well." she pointed out with a big smile.

I laughed too and shrugged again. "I've been thinking about what I was going to say for days." I admitted, glancing away before looking back at her. "I almost wrote a song instead."

"You could have," she whispered, reaching for my hand and squeezing my fingers. "I love hearing you sing."

I smiled again and pulled her closer to me to feel her body against mine. I lied down on my back again and she cuddled my side quickly. We stayed quiet for a while and every time she'd tilt her chin up to kiss mine, it would make me smile. It made me realize I had everything I needed, everything I wanted... I had everything I didn't even know I needed, and didn't even know I wanted.

"Do you still want to elope?" I asked randomly after a while.

"It's still a dream of mine, yea." she replied in a gentle tone. "But I know you'd prefer a normal wedding with our families and friends. I'm okay with that."

"I'm sure we can make a compromise."

She moved her head up to look in my eyes and frowned a bit. "This is... hypothetical, right?"

I let my eyes roam again on her face and something stirred inside me. I had no idea it was possible to love someone so bad. I didn't know it was possible to love someone so much you that you'd be ready to change your life plans for them. But here I was, staring at the only woman I ever fell in love with, knowing that I'd do anything for her, and that I would never stop loving her.

"Of course, we're just talking." I lied, my lips curling more. "So we'd elope and get married in Vegas, and then make a big party with our friends and family. And then what?"

"Honeymoon? If we're not too busy..."

"We'll make time." I replied firmly. "Bali or Bora Bora?"

She laughed and turned to lay on her back, my arm still behind her neck, and she finally shook her head. "I don't care where we go, Niall. As long as I'm with you."

the requests

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan story #niall horan writing #1dff #my fanfics #yam

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harvestleaves · 4 years

Text

Lightheaded

Prompt by anon: Maybe a sick fic prompt for charcel where Ethan hasn’t been feeling well and nearly faints onto Crockett, and Crockett looks after him.

Rating: T (for occasional swearing)

Word Count: 852

A/N: I apologize for how late this fic is, but I still hope you enjoy it! It’s also posted on Ao3 here.

It was a chilly day in December when Ethan shuffled into the ED around 7 am, having slept in until 6:30 and skipped his morning workout. That should have been his first notion that something was going wrong, in addition to the fact that he’d taken a nap the day before and had been having cold shivers for the last few days. Taking a sip of his coffee, Ethan suppressed another shiver, feeling lightheaded from the fact that he’d skipped dinner the night before to go to bed early and had also skipped breakfast, choosing to just grab a coffee on his way in due to being late.

“Dr. Choi? I need a second opinion on one of my patients, do you mind?”

Ethan turned to see who had spoken, though the southern accent was an easy giveaway. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as he did so, the movement making his dizziness worse, noticing the look of concern that flashed across Crockett’s face as he steadied himself against the counter.

“You okay, sugar? You’re looking a little faint,” Crockett asked with a frown, making a mental note of the slight sheen of sweat on the other man's face as well as how shaky his hands were.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, just got a little dizzy, that’s all,” Ethan mumbled as the dizziness lessened, and he was finally able to look up at Crockett.

“Did this come on all of a sudden? Or have you been feeling off the last few days?”

“The lightheadedness started this morning. But I guess I’ve been feeling off the last few days.”

“Off? Off how?” Crockett asked in confusion, tilting his head as Ethan ignored his question, and tried to push past him.

“Can we just check on your patient and stop worrying about me? I’m fine,” Ethan huffed as he tried to walk past Crockett, his head spinning once more as the taller man caught his arm.

“Hey, talk to me. You look like you’re about to pass out,” Crockett stated firmly as he looked at the other man, his hand moving slowly from Ethan’s arm to loop around his waist when Ethan’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward into Crockett’s arms.

“Shit. Can I get some help in here?!”

“Ethan? What the hell happened in here Dr. Marcel?” April asked with wide eyes as she helped get Ethan up onto a gurney before wheeling him into Exam Room 1.

“I’m not sure, he was just looking a little off and then he passed out,” Crockett explained as he started to hook Ethan up to the monitors, letting out a small sigh of relief when the other man slowly started to open his eyes.

“Hey sugar, don’t make any sudden movements, I don’t want you passing out again,” Crockett explained, nudging Ethan back down when the man tried to sit up, moving to hook the bag of saline up to the IV he’d made in Ethan’s left arm.

“You’re dehydrated and running a fever. What in hell made you think to come to work was a good idea today?”

Ethan frowned at Crockett’s words and gave a half-hearted shrug as he leaned back against the pillows.

“I dunno, I was feeling like shit last night and this morning, but I didn’t want to bother anyone with it. I didn’t really expect anyone to care anyways,” Ethan explained as he watched Crockett move around the exam room to gather the supplies for a blood draw.

“That’s clearly the dumbest thing you have ever said. It’s obvious to me that everyone here cares about each other. Y’all seem to have such amazing camaraderie that I actually get jealous of how much of an outsider I feel like,” Crockett admitted as he drew the blood for tests before he hooked the IV back up.

“People here do care about you y’know. I mean...I care about you,” Ethan admitted, though he wasn’t sure if it was the fever that was finally making him admit his feelings for the other man or how comfortable he felt being taken care of at that moment.

Crockett cracked a smirk as he grabbed a cool damp cloth to brush the sweaty hair off of Ethan’s forehead before he sat on the edge of Ethan’s bed.

“I care about you too sugar, which is why I got worried when you passed out. Which, by the way, you didn’t have to do just to get my attention, you know that right? Asking me out for dinner would have sufficed,” he teased with a grin before he dropped a soft kiss onto Ethan’s hair before he moved to get up, raising an eyebrow when Ethan’s hand wrapped softly around his wrist to halt him.

“S-stay? We can talk about this more when I’m not fever drunk,” Ethan mumbled as he pressed his cheek against the pillow with a yawn, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips as Crockett moved to sit back down in the chair next to the gurney.

“I’m not going anywhere sugar. Now, get some rest, you deserve it.”

#chicago med #one chicago #ethan choi #crockett marcel #charcel #marchoi #chicago med fic

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wthelvetica21 · 4 years

Text

TLT : Long Time Friends

the Synopsis

Rated : T for some coarse language and mentions of nudity, hazing, and alcohol abuse

The Living Tombstone fanfic loosely based on the song of the same name. It’s a story of a man having a quarter life crisis who has recently been developing a drinking problem after a long string of bad luck. Made worse by his roommate from hell that he’s known since high school whom he considers a “long time friend”.

All he wanted to do was sleep all day to get this hangover over and done with. He’s had enough of the excuses from his boss to get on him for. Recently he was given a warning of firing all because someone at High May’s Jr decided to post a picture of him buck naked after the 5th or 7th drink (or at least he thinks so). What made it worse was the fact that there is a poorly done almost homemade tattoo on his left buttocks of what looks like a tombstone with head phones. While yes, he did have another set of better quality tattoos on his shoulder blades of two haves of a tombstone with headphones but he assumed the only reason he got in trouble was because it was made public. Also the fact he was streaking at a bar and if what a mutual friend says is true, in the parking lot as well before blacking out. As a spokesperson for an energy drink company he was told to hold a certain image in order to keep his job. But that statement is rich coming from his boss who he had spotted multiple times there too. He murmurs “I swear that bad tattoo was because I lost a bet that night… ugh”

Another Little Abuse Another Pointless Excuse

Without warning, he felt someone grab him by the back of his neck. Before he could even react, he could hear “Surprise walking dead man!”. He was then shoved face first into something white with black dots that he couldn’t make out, he felt it violently pull at his eye brows and broke his nose upon impact. He rolled around hollering and grunting trying to get what was glued to his face off but to no avail. He opened his eyes and could see his “friend” whom he had known since high school snickering at him. “Hey now you don’t have to worry about wearing that stupid ass helmet you were bitching about. It ain’t exact but it would work.” Part of him wanted to punch him in the face for pulling something like this. However he just couldn’t because he was still hungover from the night before. And this “friend” was a stout but muscular 6’3” buck in his 30s. While he was just a 6’.11” bean pole in his mid 20s with very little muscle definition along with a developing beer gut who hasn’t really got to where he wanted in life. The strange thing was the room looked darker than usual; almost like wearing sunglasses indoors. The only thing he choked out was “This thing… on my face?”. The “friend” scoffs and shrugs “Don’t know, someone gave me it saying it was ‘the mask of greater understanding’ or some shit like that.” Even as a semi functional alcoholic he could tell that was a load of bullshit and this is just another pointless excuse for this friend to haze him. If this abuse escalates even further he swore to move out but that’s not even an option because of financial reasons and he’s not sure he can live alone to save his life; not for now at least he thought.

Later he looked in the mirror after his “friend” went off to work: he had a day off. He then noticed what was quite literally glued to his face: it was a matte white skull mask with wide black lenses that reflected light in such a way it made them almost looked like empty sockets. Also their were three semi circular teeth on the mask with the center one completely obscuring his already broken nose. Then as soon as he blinked, the mask did so as well like it was a second face. Seeing this made him reel back and yell “HOLY SHIT! eck AH.!!” His back hit the bathroom door shut as he stumbles back panting trying to catch his breath. “What the hell even is this thing!?”. Being optimistic, he starts to grow fond of his new accessory (if it could be called that) and talks to himself “This thing couldn’t be that bad could it, I mean it kind of looks badass with the fohawk and sideburns right?”. He sighs and backs away from the mirror murmuring “Don’t fool yourself.”. Later that night, his “friend” gets back from work with some new wine that he got with his last pay check and gave him a glass saying “Truse man?”. He hesitated at first but since it was premium wine he relents with a shrug “Perhaps.” A part of him wanted to throw it back in his so called friend’s face and say no but how could he resist any offer of alcohol.

Another Joke That's Not to Laugh At

The next morning, he wakes up to take a shower so he could head off to work. He murmurs “Why am I so itchy all the sudden? huh.. Maybe have to wash the sheets again… What a pain in the ass”. He doesn’t notice that his hair is slowly falling off as he scratches his head. Showering with that skull mask is a pain to deal with he admitted to himself because it was almost like wearing glasses but worse. He had to hold his hand to his forehead to keep the water out of the eye holes of the mask. All the sudden, he notices the water is at his ankles. He then looks at his feet and sees that the drain is clogged by a clump of dark brown hair; his hair. “Aw shit.. That better not be what I think that is…” The friend hanged out behind the bathroom door chuckling to himself whispering “Oh shit, this is gonna be lit.” He franticly bolts out of the shower stall towards the sink mirror still dripping wet with a towel around his hips. He then rubs the fog off the mirror and is horrified to see his hair was completely gone, it was now just stubble and stray curls barely clinging to his now bare head and shoulders. He lets out a piercing scream that rang out startling the neighboring tenants of the apartments they live in. He then yells “WHAT THE HELL!? WHY AM I BALD!?”.

The friend busted open the door with his elbow “Hey man do you ever bother to lock the… Oh ho ho ho holy shit man it actually worked? Wow that’s one hell of a look for you Undead Mr. Clean” He just narrowed his eyes (or at least what now approximates them). “Wha… ARE YOU SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW?! uhh… oh no.” But all the sudden remembered; he has work today too. He groaned in frustration, murmuring curses and other unusual higher pitched noises as his “friend” laughed at his new look. “Hey dude look on the bright side, *snort* now your head is as hairless as your ass now.” Outraged he snaps right back at him “This is really not the time to be joking about this! What the hell did you put in that wine glass last night?”. The “friend” impishly pulled a vile of medicine from his pocket whistling a small tune. He snatched it out of the friend’s hands and looked at the label; he saw the word ‘dactinomycin’ in bold letters. His blood ran cold and was left speechless save some high pitched noises. “This shit has got to be illegal… how the hell did you get this?” he said in a dumbstruck tone. His “friend” just shrugs “My girl got it for me, said my grandma needed it.”. He looks at the “friend” with extreme disgust “Your a special kind of asshole you know that.”. He later gets dressed as his “friend” gave him a new name to go by “Undead Mr. Clean”. He just ignored his so called friend that literally just poisoned him for some kind of messed up joke.

Another day, feeling like I don't belong

While driving he angrily murmurs “First the mask and now this… None of these ‘jokes’ are funny. (under gritted teeth hunching his back slightly) Not at all.” Work’s going to be hell he just knows it. He had to put his hoodie over his face so no one could even recognize him if they could at all. He was always the odd man out when it came to his work even though he was practically the poster boy for the company. He only had handful of friendly acquaintances there as well that made it semi bearable. He sighed “Make it through the week and meet up with your actual friends this weekend.” Then he mutters under his breath “That’s just great. I know I’ll regret saying it but what could possibly be worse then having a mask glued to my damn face or slipped a cancer drug that made my hair fall out? Seriously what?!” He pauses for a moment and notices that he’s 10 minutes late to work. Then he yells in an indignant tone “Oh GOD, WHAT AM I SAYING?! HAVE I LOST MY FU…ek… hah!?”. He narrowly avoids a curb in his workplace parking lot; he’s lucky he didn’t crash. He already had his driver’s license suspended a year ago because of a DUI after running into a lamp post. This day is going to be a living hell for certain.

Author’s Note: This sort of takes place within an alternate universe before the events of “Drunk” where Skulldude gets his signature appearance i.e skull mask and bald head. This also based on my crack pot theory that it was just an elaborate cruel joke. He’s not directly named either because it would be awkward.

#the living tombstone #tlt zero_one #fanfic #song fanfic

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scrambledthoughtz · 3 years

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i miss my eating disorder

i miss my eating disorder. it is a feeling like no other - having complete and utter control over your body and mind, while completing losing yourself to an illness. i miss the control, willpower that it gave me. it’s an addiction - the euphoria and pride that i felt after successfully starving myself - skipping a full meal, chewing and spitting out my food, depriving myself of the simple things in life. sometimes, i still feel little sparks of that euphoria, when i manage to successfully skip breakfast while only drinking a coffee with milk, or when i eat a salad for lunch, or when i don’t eat dessert after dinner, or when i don’t eat after 9 PM.

it’s a fucking weird feeling. i eat because i’m terrified of being at work and feeling hungry later on because i know that i won’t be able to focus and fight off that feeling of hunger. i know that feeling of hunger will linger in the back of my mind and follow me home, and i will proceed to snack before dinner. i’m afraid of hunger, yet it’s all i yearn for. i avoid hunger, while simultaneously hungering for hunger.

nowadays, i feel like i’ve completely let myself go. my mind is a constant internal warzone - i drive to work and feel the flab on my arms as i grab the wheel to make a right turn. i sit down and watch as my thighs flatten out on the chair. i catch a glimpse of my myself in the mirror and despite what i see. all i can see if the lack of a thigh gap, the double chin, the flab that pushes out against my hoodie sleeves. i haven’t properly looked at myself in the mirror for over a month now (maybe even two). i wake up and eat breakfast at 6 or 7 AM and immediately hate myself for not being able to wait longer before putting calories in my body. “just drink coffee with milk or tea. drink water with lemon to curve the hunger. you’re not actually hungry.” i beat myself up because i have lost control over my impulses and urges. i was once able to wake up and work out for 30-45 minutes per day, while intermittently fasting. it’s hard to believe that i’m the same person as she was. i look back on photos that i’ve taken with my friend and i feel a surge of self-loathing. i don’t remember the last time i weighed myself. i’m terrified of seeing the number on the scale. i don’t want to know. ignorance is bliss. i know that once i see that number (it’s honestly probably over 110 by now), it will send me into an even deeper spiral, and i don’t have the emotional bandwidth to take that on right now. it’s constant psychological warfare - my mind is continually visualizing what i probably look naked - the growing love handles on my hips, the excess flab on my thighs, the bra bulge on my arms, the rounding out of my face.

yet. yet, despite all of these intrusive everyday thoughts, i don’t have the willpower nor control to starve myself, or even exercise regularly. i know for a fact that i’ve gained weight during quarantine. i can feel it - objectively speaking. i know i have. but i can’t bring myself to do anything about it. i eat to drown out the thoughts. i hunger for chocolate, sugar, candy late at night. i’m fighting fire with fire. my late-night snacking and multiple portions at dinner serve as as a massive “fuck you” to the disordered thoughts that have lived in my head since i was 12 or 13. i’m 21 now. yet i still wake up feeling incredibly shitty about myself because i ate after 9 PM when i wasn’t even hungry. i know that i could do better. i’ve done better. but here’s the thing: even when i was working out regularly and eating much cleaner, i still didn’t like what i saw. i wasn’t getting results fast enough. i still saw the flab on my arms and the pudge around my waist and stomach (especially when i wear jeans). so what’s the point? even when i was at my peak, i still wasn’t happy. so what’s the point of even trying to get back to that?

i want to burn a hole straight through my body. i want to take a cigarette lighter and just singe off the excess flab that causes me so much mental anguish. then, at least the physical pain would drown out this ever-so-loud mental warfare. i drink hot tea with lemon after a particularly large meal just for this reason. i burn my insides as punishment for letting myself go, yet once again. when will i ever stop doing this to myself? just this morning, i ate some white bread with sunflower seed butter. it’s only 8 AM and i am bound to eat another meal before lunch time.

meals are one of the only things that i look forward to nowadays, yet they are also one of my greatest sources of anxiety. throughout the day, my mind constantly runs through a mental checklist:

“what did i eat for breakfast? ok, not too much. it’s okay to eat this for lunch, then. maybe you even saved some calories for a snack. shit, i ate way too much for breakfast and lunch. whatever, fuck it. i’m going to eat whatever i want for dinner. fuck it, i want something sweet. stop, don’t eat this. you’re going to get fat. stop, this is fried. no, not white bread. don’t eat too much of this. put more vegetables on your plate. should i really be eating this? fuck it. i don’t care. why are you putting milk in your coffee? that’s just extra fat you don’t need in your body. you don’t deserve to be eating this much because you didn’t exercise today. people only get abs when they are on a caloric deficit, and you are so far from that. you haven’t exercised in almost a week. water with lemon. water with lemon. water with lemon.”

when i go on my runs, i feel myself slowing down. i don’t have the physical nor mental stamina to run without stopping. i used to have so much drive, motivation and overall umph. i used to challenge myself to run the whole way without stopping. but now? i don’t even care anymore. if i stop in the middle, at least i might be able to run the last part faster. this brings me to my next topic - see next post.

#personal

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yakumtsaki · 4 years

Photo

Alright you guys, sorry for the delay, I’ve had to restart this post 20 fucking times because my changes weren’t being saved in the draft and then I kept getting the ‘upload failed’ error. In case you don’t remember wtf is going on you might wanna re-read the last update (I certainly had to) which is apparently from JUNE 2018. Jfc I suck so hard. Now this was gonna be really long but tumblr wouldn’t post it so I’m breaking it up in 3 parts, part 2 to be posted tomorrow. For those that don’t feel like reading back, general recap of the last couple updates:

Jojo cheated on Wyatt with Max Flexor and my solution to that marital crisis was to adopt our first dog ever, a puppy hilariously named Maxx.

The puppy grew up to be an asshole and is constantly beating up the cats, who have turned into giant pussies (no pun intended) and are losing every fight to him despite the fact they’re named after Mortal Kombat characters. They’re a fucking disgrace to Alegra’s/Victor’s/Ronroneo’s memory and I haven’t settled on a cat heir yet because they both suck.

Jojo is perma miserable, I don’t even remember how much money away from his 100k LTW, and still not a werewolf despite my pathologically persistent attempts to make him friends with the wolf.

Fucking useless Wyatt didn’t get promoted while Komei was alive providing us with his 100 townie friends, we spent 20 updates befriending every rando that crossed our lot to secure his promotion, and then finally on the day he was supposed to become Captain Hero, Wyatt got, of course, fired and is now on track to take longer to complete his literal career based LTW than Komei took to get 6 pets on the top of their careers.

Absolutely everyone hates noogie addict Shajar, she got a Kylo Ren makeover, and we still don’t know what her sexual orientation is thanks to her ridiculous fitness/fatness turn ons and cleanliness turn off.

Golden child/10 nice points freakshow Cyneswith grew up, rolled romance with the most disturbing turn-ons/offs possible (grey hair/mechanical & charisma turn off) and the 20 simultaneous lovers LTW.

Wulf grew up into a kid, got an Amadeus makeover, is officially a Wyatt clone and the only member of this family I don’t completely hate yet.

Now I’d like to begin the first Union post in more than a year by requesting you do me a solid and lower your expectations for this thing as far down as humanly possible. Like really try to recreate the Jules Verne classic “Journey to the Center of the Earth” with your expectations here, because my brain is so fucking fried that there’s a 20% chance I randomly start citing sources at some point during this post. This grad school crap has seriously been the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever. And speaking of bad trade deals, let’s get this update rolling with the man, the myth, the legend, the husband who managed to make Komei look like a dreamboat in comparison..

..Wyatt fucking Union, née Monif. It’s been a long time, but I’m not gonna lie to you Wyatt, not nearly long enough. Looking good man, just one small question, where the fuck are your eyebrows?

-You àccidéntally deléted thém, imbécilé, et I cannôt exprèss my irritatiόn prόperly becausé I hàve non eyebrôws!

Did your selective French accent get thicker this past year or is it just me?

-It géts thickér whén je suis distrésséd, givé moi mon eyebrôws bàcc!!!

No can do, brother. Actually can do, but I think the Mona Lisa look is working for you, and more importantly I still hate you, so I’m just gonna hardcore ignore you for the rest of this post if that’s ok. Talk to me when you finally get promoted, aka never the way this shit is going.

-Non! NON! MON EYEBROWS!

It’s been lovely catching up.

Jojό I mean Jojo, goddammit Wyatt, is spending most of his time building robots in the mausoleum (sweet hipster band name alert)..

..giving financial advice in Shajar’s room (inb4 what’s the difference between the mausoleum and Shajar’s room)..

..building evil snowmen alone in the middle of the night, like all mentally healthy middle aged men with 3 kids are wont to do..

..and getting the piss harassed out of him by the cat ghosts in the bathroom (sweet hipster band name alert #2). How is this like the fourth time this happens in the exact same spot, will you just stop autonomously cleaning the bathroom after midnight? It’s obviously where the cats hang out, give it the fuck up already.

-I’m actively TRYING TO DIE you absolute moron, what does a guy have to do to get killed around here?

Yea can’t say that I blame you but not happening, you can commit suicide by Ghost Alegra after the kids fuck off to college, ok? I promise.

-Oh like you promised me being heir was a route worth pursuing??

Um obviously you too need to go back and re-read your own life story, because I spent the entirety of our “““cherished””” time together telling you heirship is a shitty gig at generation 2. And then to top it off you went and married Wyatt to ensure maximum shittiness, so there you go, fucking enjoy. God I am so sick of both of you losers and we’re only 5 pics in. Let’s check in with your spawn, I’m sure they can’t possibly be more annoying than their parents-

-oh right, I forgot, this is the generation with 10/10/9 active points where the party never stops. Cyneswith are you somehow twerking to classical music?

-How else am I gonna attract all those hot senior citizens per my grey hair turn on and 20 lovers LTW?

Ok great yea I see how this is gonna go, you’re trying to entice people into voting you for heir based on how torturous playing this fucked up LTW is gonna be for me, well forget it, my readers are intellectuals and completely above such petty entertainment. (istg mofos, don’t even think about it, i already did Komei’s 5 pets career shit, i will burn this place to the ground if you saddle me with Cyneswith banging the elderly for 30 years)

-No need to worry your stupid little head, I will beat Cyneswith for HEIR just like I beat her HAIR up daily! HAHA!

Shajar no offense but you’re a fucking war crime of a sim, nearly everyone who’s ever met you hates you including your parents, and the fact that you’re the alternative here is really not helping my situation in any way. Also how the fuck are you gonna be heir when the only thing you seem to be attracted to is giving noogies, you’re like one week away from college and I still don’t even know if you’re str8 or gay or bi or w/e the fuck you are. You have Jojo’s personality combined with..

..yes exactly, DANIEL’S SOCIAL ABILITIES. I mean I was joking with the whole ‘Shajar’s the spawn of Satan’ thing, but this combo of traits was clearly drawn up in Hell’s boardroom.

ANYWAY. It’s a snowy Sunday morning, and anyone who has been a teen knows what that means:

Time to go clubbing! Man I remember being like 15, waking up on a freezing Sunday morning and my mom making me a cup of hot chocolate before I drove off to the club. Those were the days.

-Uh, Shaj, when did you learn how to drive?

-Don’t be stupid, Cyneswith, people don’t need to ‘learn’ how to drive.

-They absolutely do, actually.

-Well what can I tell you, the dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.

-Here we are, safe and sound! Celebratory noogie!

-YOU RAN OVER 9 PEOPLE

-How many times to I have to explain this to you, Apartment Life townies are not people.

Can’t argue with that logic. Let’s just go in and find out what Shajar’s sexual orientation is once and for all so I can spend the rest of this update aggressively promoting Wulf’s candidacy.

Now I consider ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ one of the dumbest sayings there is, but even I have to concede that this particular picture truly is worth a thousand words. Quick poll, what is more horrifying, Shajar’s literal Joker face or Cyneswith, whom I’ve never seen read a book ever, autonomously pulling one out in the middle of the dance floor, in what I can only assume is an attempt to attract old perverts with the schoolgirl routine?

And I know what some of you are thinking, you’re like ‘bro, you’re just reaching to make a bad joke bro, Cyneswith is just a sweet nice introvert and not like other girls, she doesn’t feel comfortable in the club’, well to that let me reply with another picture that is worth a thousand words:

Yea that’s right, on the first minute of our first time out WE RUN INTO THAT ONE ELDER TOWNIE THAT HAS WRINKLE MAKE UP ON. GODDAMMIT CYNESWITH

Do you guys remember how Jojo was obsessed with Stephen Tinker as a teen? Are you seeing the connection here?? Those kids have literally inherited the worst possible traits from both their parents turned up to 11, it’s fucking unreal.

Right after I get over Wrinkle’s presence I turn around and what do I see, those 2, who have never had a non-noogie physical interaction, autonomously doing the family kiss thing. I didn’t even catch it on time because I was loling irl, we came out here so these assholes can find age-appropriate partners, and instead they’re kissing each other. Seems about right with this family, and clearly Striped Scarf’s dumb ass ships it.

-They look so much alike, it’s meant to be!

Yes, and they even share the same last name! Talk about written in the stars.

Thankfully Abhijeet is here to save us from incest by perving on Cyneswith. GTFO ABHIJEET. Anyone like ‘bro townies just autonomously come to greet your sims on community lots regardless of age, stop calling them perverts’, see you in about 5 pics down.

I try to have Shajar chat up Striped Scarf and suffice it to say Shaj ~stole her heart~ and presumably put it on this stick to wave around.

NO. CYNESWITH NO. I’m seriously having déjà vu of all the times I was like ‘NO. JOJO NO’, jfc.

Shajar is unsurprisingly exhibiting no interest in socializing with anyone around her, instead she’s trying every activity this terribly lit place has to offer, and she looks demented while doing it:

I’m feeling a primal urge to photoshop Darth Vader’s melted helmet on the bowling ball here, someone please remind me to do it for the heir vote photoshoot.

-HA. SUCK IT DENISE JACQUET

That’s Denise Jacquet?! I can’t tell who anyone is for shit anymore. The default replacements are a scourge upon premade brands, I’m getting rid of them pronto. Speaking of scourges, where the hell is your sister?

-Who cares?

I wanna say ‘me’ but we both know that’s a lie.

Oh ok, THERE SHE IS.

-So you see Cyneswith, just because something is technically ‘illegal’, doesn’t mean it’s morally wrong-

Yea yea fascinating stuff, now get out of the hot tub or I will fucking neuter you, I don’t know if a eunuch mod already exists for medieval games but I will make one if it doesn’t.

Here, Cyneswith, drink some water, have a nice G-rated convo with your sister about violins and stop pissing me off.

-First of all this is straight vodka.

Great.

-Secondly Shajar is talking about Mozart’s coprophilia.

-I sure am.

Amazing. Well, I guess it’s at times like these when you need to look inside your heart and truly ask yourself, what did you expect from Jojo’s children.

ABHIJEET ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME DID YOU EVEN HEAR ME TALK ABOUT CASTRATION

-Ha, I went home and put on my most elderly-looking formal wear!

-I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave Ab <3

CYNESWITH SHUT UP. I can’t believe you people are actually making me miss Gunther’s teenage whoring, at least he kept it age appropriate.

-Is some random lady pressing her breasts against my head?

She most certainly is, Shajar, because it is now crystal clear that this bowling alley doubles as the site of annual perv townie convention and we walked right into it-

-and it’s also clear we have serious issues and are enjoying ourselves. Shaj I legit don’t know what to tell you, this is the first time you get along with someone right away and it just had to be the adult with the bad haircut and the flasher’s trench coat???

-You’re damn right it did.

Alright then, I’m officially going to nope out of this situation, safe in the knowledge you’re a noogiesexual and nothing will actually happen with this freak, so I’ll focus on Cyneswith instead who is much more of a loose canon.

Here Cyn, talk to this guy, who I’m 90% sure is the same guy your father rejected in favor of stalking Stephen Tinker when he was your age.

-Ohhhh, he’s dreamy!

Omg really?? Halleluj-

-oh never mind, you were of course referring to adult ass Brandon Lillard. I do like that our townies have recurring roles each generation, we should make rejecting Blondie a rite of passage in this family. We should also officially gtfo because this is happening:

-Um, now that I’m looking at you in harsher lighting, it’s gonna be a no from me dawg.

Oh, thank the fucking lord.

-Let’s celebrate the fact we didn’t get hopelessly obsessed with any adults here by doing the traditional Dance of Normality!

-We beat Dad’s genes, we beat Dad’s genes!

-We’re normal!

Yes, and we’re definitely showing it. Can we please leave now so I can make sure I’ve uninstalled Inteenminator and turn off free will?

-Nop! Venue change!

-Got-out-of-the-car celebratory noogie!

-Made-it-to-the-door celebratory noogie!

Shajar you unironically have a noogie addiction, I’m not kidding in the slightest, you need to see a doctor.

Great, great, not another teen in sight and to top it off Denise followed us here to ensure maximum elder presence. I feel comfortable officially declaring this day a complete waste of time.

God, the vintage pink dress and the pink alcohol combo is some straight up current era Taylor Swift nonsense. That’s it, we’re outta here, back home where no one is lurking, waiting to strike at us-

-SOPHIE NOOOOOOOOOOOO💔💔💔💔💔

-The Lord is my shepherd.

NO HE ISN’T EVERYONE KNOWS YOU CAN’T HERD CATS PLEASE DON’T DIE

-Nop, I’m over it. Goodbye heathens, it’s been nice, hope you don’t find your paradise.

UGH SOPHIE, my beloved Westboro lunatic, the last gangsta generation 1 cat we had.. I can’t believe you’re gone and all I’m left with is stupid Goro and D’vorah who can’t even beat up the fucking dog. This is truly painful.

Yes, pets, I agree, Kaylynn is completely to blame for Sophie dying of old age. The time has now come to decide on a cat heir-

-and since Goro ran away like a little bitch after Sophie’s death despite the fact he didn’t even like her, he’s automatically disqualified and will be going off to live on Melody and Daniel’s farm once returned to us. Congratulations to D’vorah I guess, on being the least terrible of two terrible options.

On the topic of terrible heir options, Cyn has non-stop wants to go on dates and have her first kiss and all that crap, and since our Sunday morning clubbing was a bust we invite over the matchmaker.

-Hello there young Union, I see your house has been upgraded since I was last here.

Oh right we haven’t required your services since Daniel was a teen and we lived in a trailer, well we are flush with cash now!

-Hopefully your payment reflects that.

It will!! Just please give us someone good, I can’t deal with single teen Cyn for one more second.

-Oh my, what a beautiful BLANK PIECE OF PAPER.

WHAT!? NO THAT’S 5K IT’S JUST A SNOW GLITCH

-What do I look like to you, a money thawing service?

Does such a service.. exist??

-It does not, so I have to go home and use a hairdryer on this!

Just come inside and we’ll give you non-frozen money!

-No, no, you’ll get what you paid for..

-Have a magical time!

...

.........

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

Lakshmi this was so fucking evil that I almost want to age you down and see if you and Shajar hit it off.

-As if, the whole neighborhood knows what you did to Komei.

Helped him achieve his insane 6-pets-career LTW?

-Turned him into a servant while your sim was lounging around all day!

Oh yea I did do that. But Wyatt was also a townie and he does literally nothing, Jojo is the servant now!

-Only because Wyatt is too fucking stupid to do things! Word has gotten out, no townie will ever marry in this family again unless they’re brain dead, so it’s Wyatts only for you from now on, sister!

Well this has been a complete fucking disaster. It was great seeing you again, Lakshmi, thanks for the dream date with the adult farting machine, 5k well-spent.

Pretty sure it was you bro, and yes, how about we don’t do that again.

Wyatt has brought over Amanda from work! (Aka Victoria’s only friend and subsequent lesbian lover, who is really pretty and is definitely getting married in at some point, preferably after the brown hair genes have been weakened so we can go back to being gingers.)

-Wow Shajar, your grandmother, God rest her soul, mentioned you were her favorite and now I can see why! Loving the Kylo Ren look!

-Is someone being genuinely nice to me?! What is happening?

-Yes, please stop being nice to her, Amanda, we don’t want her getting used to it.

Jojo istg.

-Cyneswith dear, tell Amanda all about how much money your grandmother left you so she can stop being nice to Shajar.

-Soooo much money, Miss Amanda!

-Ah, what a polite child I’ve single-handedly raised.

-Now, Cyneswith, you really need to get back on the dating scene so you have ample time to find the perfect spouse and continue our line, since you’re clearly the only one of my children that is remotely heir material.

-Dad, Shajar and Wulf are right next to you.

-Oh they are? I’m wearing my special contact lenses that make those disappointments invisible to me, but even better, they need to hear this. Shajar is a noogiesexual and thus incapable of reproduction, and Wulf is not even a Union, I mean have you seen that kid? Wyatt reproduced by himself like the amoeba he is. Now, your grandmother-

-YOU MENTIONED ME 3 TIMES AND HERE I AM

OH FUCK VICTORIA, deleting the default replacements gave you base game hair!!!!

-That’s the part you’re scared by, not my Beetlejuicesque entrance?

There’s literally nothing scarier than your ghost sporting this haircut for all eternity, I’m re-downloading that default immediately.

-Oh mom, so good to see you! Let me just hug my beloved child, Shijer-

-Shajar, dad.

-SHAJAR, let me hug Shajar, like I do all the time.

-I’m glad to see you’re not picking favorites among your children like I did, the way I treated David-

-Daniel, mom.

-DANIEL, is the one thing I’ve truly been regretting in the afterlife. That and not skinning Marisa Bendett alive when I had the chance.

-Well, as you can see by Shajar’s totally normal and not at all shocked reaction to my hug, I am a wonderful, fair, and emotionally available father.

(Bruh this freaked me out so much when it happened, I mean I KNOW it’s an animation glitch but I was convinced my sims had become sentient for a good while after)

-Is your grandmother’s ghost still on the premises?

-Yup.

-When will this nightmare end, paying attention to you is the worst.

-Ok she’s gone.

-FINALLY. Now it’s back to the crypt for you, and don’t you dare go complain to her urn!

-Ah, Stephen, Stephen, my life is crap and I can’t even🎵

And with the knowledge you have composed a theme song for Stephen Tinker, part 1 of the Union comeback update is concluded. Will Shajar’s sexual orientation reveal itself? Will Cyneswith find true love? Will Jojo become a werewolf? Will Wulf continue to be the only dignified member of this family? Will D’vorah have kittens? Will Wyatt do literally anything worth mentioning? Tune in for parts 2 & 3 to find out, unfollow button on the upper right corner for those who need it.

#gen 2 #ts2

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gh0stbird · 4 years

Note

Okay Now Do The Rest

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Bright but argumentative. I was never afraid of pointing out things I didn’t feel were fair hfhddh

When we were learning numbers kids would often write 91 for nineteen, just flip them, y’know, and Ms. Potter yelled at the class for it. Baby Generiq went into it about how it was an understandable mix up because you do say the number first. In twenty-three you write the two first, so in nineteen it’s easy to assume you would write the nine first.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tired.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows. Every book adaptation should also be a series not a movie. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle and sunshine

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Floor hockey! My friend and I used to be brutal and swing at each other’s shins going after the ball. Also it was reminiscent of golf, which I competed in.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I have an untitled playlist I cycle my current music in and out of, but Newton’s Third Law is my favorite named one!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t- I guess the yellow smarties. Don’t come for me they taste like lemonade.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I assume this means assigned book and not the reports we got to pick for ourselves. Ah, Night was good. Lord of the Flies was fine but way overhyped. Again, don’t come for me.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

If I can tuck my legs into the chair I am sitting in that is ideal!

18. ideal weather?

When you know it is going to rain and you get to stay home

19. sleeping position? (Skipped on accident)

I reeeally like pressure, so either against something or on my stomach.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone notes and a notebook! Sometimes a blank document but I always find it strangely intimidating

21. obsession from childhood?

Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, and Maximum Ride were my big three!

22. role model?

Aa I try to straw from people I want to copy, but there are talents I look up to. Rachel Chavkin is a brilliant director, and there are so many artists and authors I look up to and who inspire me.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian because it’s black like my hea- I’m kidding, I do love obsidian, but it’s Rose Quartz because it’s a very very pretty, soft pink and makes me happy.

25. first song you remember hearing?

The mobile above my crib played Imagine by John Lennon. My childhood room was themed after it as well!

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim or sit in the sunshine. Ben and I usually go driving with the top down as well.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Walking through fresh snow is amazing, so are snowball fights and building snowmen.

28. five songs to describe you?

Oh fuck yes

Hurricane - Hamilton

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine

Facade - Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical Thriller

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t typically find places sacred, but certain headspaces are very special to me, and time spent with loved ones means more than enough to be considered sacred.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A black blazer with a white button-down and a skirt.

32. top five favorite vines?

I am in Missouri (misery)

I love you, Bitch

I want a Church girl

Obama’s “I know because I won both of them”

I won’t hesitate, Bitch!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“No worries”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

That fucking PFI bandana boot sale I stg

35. average time you fall asleep?

Somewhere between 9:00 and three in the morning

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some girl doing bunny ears on her friend. I don’t remember what the caption was

38. lemonade or tea?

Both. Mixed together. It’s called an Arnold Palmer and it is my favorite drink

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

We duck taped out principal to the wall once. Also some kid broke their tray over another kid’s head at lunch one time.

41. last person you texted?

The family group chat, though Beau if Discord counts

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I wear a lot of leggings so jacket pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

We had some Lily of the Valley hand soap that was amazing

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, I think! I’ve never done super heavy into the other two. Though I definitely don’t want to ignore sci-fi because two of my favorite stories are a little science-fiction-y

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A t-shirt and shorts

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A banana. Generally accepted as a fruit and kind of just rolls with it, but is actually a berry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

I fucking hate Hamilton-ing on main, but

“And when my prayers to god were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

That changes every time Beau and I play HetaOni together, but I have fucking lost it for at least five minutes the last two sessions.

51. current stresses?

I dunno, man, life? My hair could use a wash

52. favorite font?

Covered by your Grace and I’m a big Spectral baby. These are both google docs! I don’t know if that makes a difference.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Patience is important when teaching material, but never be afraid to find another approach better suited to the person you’re tutoring.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Robin Hood!

56. favorite tradition?

My family does homemade Springfield cashew chicken for Christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhh lots of self-acceptance shit no one really wants to read

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can pop the joint at the center of my foot

That’s all

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I sort of like my role as mom friend, so maybe I could keep that role in a sort of action-based anime that followed a group of friends

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“I am not the protégé to waste your time on; I'm complete!” Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

62. seven characters you relate to?

Haha

Lisa Carew - Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

Japan - Hetalia/Oni

Garnett - Steven Universe

Hfhddh that’s all I can say that aren’t my own characters

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I Don’t Like Clubs, but

Overwhelmed - Royal + The Serpent

Backseat Serenade - All Time Low

Go Big or Go Home - American Authors

The Nights - Avicii

Tempo - Lizzo

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz!

65. any permanent scars?

Yep - One from a bad bike wreck. My body rejected the dissolvable stitches so it’s a lot bigger than it was supposed to be

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lily of the Valley, daisies, Day Lilies, and Dandelions! I also love honeysuckles but I don’t know if those count.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Accidentally drank rancid milk once!

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? (Haha, nice)

The fastest, free way to fill up your potions on Wizard101 is to play Potion Motion to level three.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

On myself, animal print

72. worst subject?

I’ve never been intuitively good at History, I do think it’s interesting though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I don’t like to take it until I can’t move without it.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Kindergarten? I had mono and then scarlet fever twice, so my baby teeth were pretty much ruined and they all fell out very fast.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Curly fries!

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Kalanchoe’s, it literally Window’s Thrill. These babies are fairly temperamental outside and love partial sun, so the window is the perfect spot for them. And! If you keep them happy! They’ll bloom! My personal favorite is the pink bloom.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

What’s wrong with coffee from a gas station? Also I don’t like seafood.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

PC!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts - talk radios actually tend to get under my skin for n o reason

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, but let it be known I was brutal with mine. We did human sacrifices and the like.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but I’m a slut for whipped frosting

87. your greatest fear?

Losing control!

88. your greatest wish?

A life beyond where I am now. Haha Stop chasing new down the hallway you’re so sexy haha

90. luckiest mistake?

Logged into Omegle in like 2015 and some rando asked me to join their Doctor Who roleplay. Luckiest moment of my gd life.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags! They’re easier to store

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight! But in the late afternoon when everything is bathed in orange.

93. nicknames?

Mom is the most prevalent!

94. favorite season?

Fall into winter. Peak leaf crunch!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Discord or Notes

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tiredandineffable · 5 years

Text

The (Rule Breaking) Kiss

Still behind on fictober (this is entry #6), but I am hoping to catch up after my exam this Thursday. Wish me luck! Also, with regards to texting styles, I am somehow both Crowley and Aziraphale in this.

This is a continuation of the past two entries (part 1 and part 2). As of right now, I’m planning for this thing to have a total of 5 parts.

Thank you to my amazing beta, @eunyisadoran!

Rated G

Summary for the whole work: Aziraphale just wanted to get her parents off her back about her love life. She did not plan on falling in love with her best friend and fake girlfriend along the way. Nor did she plan on getting fake engaged. But such is life, she supposes. Ineffable wives, fake dating au that Escalates to fake engagement au. All around, a good time to be had.

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

Aziraphale sits in the kitchen, ignorant to the happenings of world and her breakfast in favour of reading through the same page over and over, hoping to spot something new. Her dissertation is nearly in flames and all she can do is hope that there’s something, anything she might have missed. Is this a metaphor? Is it an autobiographical tidbit? What does Wilde want of me? Long fingers brush along her cheek and she just barely begins to process her surroundings when she feels a soft kiss against her forehead.

“Going out for the day?” Aziraphale has no idea how to handle these endearments so early in the morning. Does my voice sound as tight as it feels? Am I blushing? Can Crowley tell how much these dumb little acts of not-love affect me?

“Got a grocery list to run through, stockpile our fridge before the real holiday celebrations kick up and your mom gets mad at me for skipping chores,” Crowley says, throwing a tea bag into a travel mug of water and shoving it into the microwave before leaning in for a kiss.

It should have been sweet and short like the multitude of other kisses they’d shared just that week. They had done this for three years because that’s what respectable suburban couples did when attempting to remind everyone that they were together. But Aziraphale’s hand comes up to her cheek and Crowley presses a tinge more firmly and before either of them can really process what’s happening, it’s a kiss. Crowley’s lips part and Aziraphale’s hand tangles into those unfairly perfect curls to pull her in closer. It’s easy to ignore the world, to ignore the fact that her mom is literally one door away in the living room, to ignore the fact that none of this is real. This isn’t a kiss anymore, it’s bordering on a make out session. A make out session they cannot, should not be having because this relationship isn’t real.

Shit.

Her hand detangles itself from Crowley’s hair to push her slightly back, to keep her at arm’s length. The way Crowley looks now is utterly unfair, like a muse made up of mussed curls, slightly parted lips, and utter confusion. But then something clicks in Crowley. She grabs the long forgotten, likely oversteeped tea and turns on her heel.

“Gotta get those groceries!”

……………….

Crowley is an idiot. She is an absolute idiot and she is acutely aware of it as she sits in her car, noticeably not shopping for groceries. The groceries were not a lie so much as they were a volunteer excursion used to get out of the house. She could pick up the things Aziraphale’s mother wanted, Aziraphale’s breakfast ingredients, and late snacks to cover the last of their grading. Most importantly, she could take some time to herself to examine what the hell she is actually doing.

Good question. What the hell happened back there?

It's all over, she’s sure of it. There’s no chance in hell Aziraphale will let this keep going after Crowley so obviously overstepped a boundary. They had rules around these things, around what they were willing to do. These rules were in place for a reason, protecting their friendship from the inevitable weirdness of pretending to date. Crowley had even contributed to a good chunk of them herself.

“Fuck,” she groans, letting her head fall to the steering wheel. She had one job. All she had to do was be relatively normal. She had to ride out this weird wave of pretending to date someone she loves and then maybe get to a point where she could tell Aziraphale the truth. If there was any chance whatsoever with Aziraphale, it’s definitely gone now. She’s pissed probably. That wasn’t overstepping a boundary, that was literally somersaulting over the fucking line like no problem. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration and just tries not to cry. Seems she’s been doing that a lot lately.

A short blip of the X-Files theme song interrupts her self-pity 80’s playlist, signalling the arrival of a much feared text from Aziraphale. She takes a breath, closes her eyes. She’ll deal with it. Whatever is in that text, she can handle it. Most definitely. Absolutely. She is a grad student, for fucks sake. She had done one of her best conference presentations while hungover, hungry, and jet lagged. She has handled flaky supervisors and demanding undergrads. She can handle one basic text from her best friend.

From: <3 Aziraphale <3

“Crowley, can we talk?”

Sent at: 11:45 AM

Nope. Crowley cannot handle this text. She can handle lots of things, including grad school, but she cannot handle this text. This is it. Oh fuck this is it. Aziraphale is going to kick her out of her life and Crowley is going to have to finish this dissertation and grade terrible undergrad papers alone.

To: <3 Aziraphale <3

“yh sure man. gonna be home in 30”

Sent at: 11:45 AM

No more post-grading drunk movies. No more making crepes just because Aziraphale likes them. No more thoughtful notes from Aziraphale tucked in between the pages of Crowley’s books. No more Aziraphale talking her out of pre-presentation, conference-induced panic attacks. No more ordering ice cream through delivery services when either of them gets a publication rejected.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She grabs the list from the dashboard and all but slams the car door, ready for the fastest supermarket shop of her life.

……………….

“So, this morning…” Aziraphale doesn’t know how to phrase this. So this morning I kissed you and got so lost in it that I let myself go too far and now I’m just desperate to keep one of the best relationships I’ve ever had the privilege to have. Please don’t hate me.

“I apologize for this morning,” she says. “When we kissed.”

“Don’t need to apologize.” Crowley sets blueberries into the fridge, pancake mix into the pantry. “And yeah, I’m aware of what happened. Your point?”

Crowley is trying and failing to act normally. Aziraphale has known her long enough to know the meaning of too-high shoulders and tight-lipped smiles. She picks up on the way Crowley’s hands shake just slightly as she puts the milk in the fridge. When Crowley stands again to look at her, there’s the trademark anxiety stance: hands in her pockets and hips hyperextending. To the untrained eye, she is as aloof and nonchalant as always. But to Aziraphale, one of the only people to have seen Crowley break down in all of her 25 years of life, she’s not handling this well.

Of course she’s not. You’ve overstepped a huge boundary and she is more than permitted to respond in any way. Any consequences are a direct result of your own actions.

Now say something. Just go. Like ripping off a bandaid.

“I hope this won’t come to affect our relationship permanently.”

Because I don’t know what I’d do if it did.

Crowley goes back to putting away groceries but Aziraphale swears that she sees her sort-of-partner’s shoulders relax. Aziraphale sips on what is now her third mug of camomile tea since that morning.

“I’m good with forgetting it ever happened, if you are,” Crowley finally responds.

Thank you to whatever supernatural power is out there.

“Thank you, I would appreciate that.”

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momiwanabeanautistwhenigrowup · 4 years

Text

So here I am. Doing the one thing I have steadily avoided for the last 4 years…somewhat.

I shouldn’t start off this way but fuck I hate writing. And there goes the first impression, etched forever in your subconscious.

She’s not going to be happy about this. Meh.

So I’m a 30 y/o stuck in this hellhole and this is my story? I guess. I mean it’s really ours.

I basically made this account to vent ..uh then I realised I’d have to go all the way back for it to make sense…and I guess my life has always been this series/rpg game so it might take shape in that style. I’m mostly explaining this to myself.

Jump to 2016. I started this biography venture bc in my short 25 years I’d amassed a set of experiences that were not so average middle class life experiences, and not in the good way. Now if you take my story and place it on the backdrop of each life on this earth then, in my opinion, my life is pretty ordinary too. Hence the (reason I tell myself there was a) delay with finishing this biography. Anyway so I sat down to write this thing a total of two times(fucking literary genius) in 2016, sometime in April if I recall correctly. It was horrible but necessary, and then I guess I found magic? And decided to halt production since well…I was busy coming into awareness. I still have the draft on this pc... I stopped when I was 10 years old.

Jump to 2020 and I’m in front of this computer with Tumblr as my backdrop in order for me to feel like I have and audience and therefore someone to talk to (I decided to type this shit out on word before copy pasting to tumblr bc apparently I don’t like living on the edge??)

I’m high as fuck (I would like to say.. but na, I’m just regular high off some freshly home-grown microwaved weed.) anyway this is probably going to be my last indulgent ingestion of the stuff. Hopefully.

Don’t get me wrong, weed isn”t to blame and I have people I can talk to, but the problem is

Everyone

Has

Their

Own

Shit.

None I know has the space. I’m the most equipped to deal with myself. To me, that is deeply unsettling right now. Like… most people don’t even know where to begin and..well..I’ve been here before so I know what to do and honestly it’s fucking shit haha.

And as shitty as I feel, it doesn’t change the fact. I gotta figure this out on my own.

I’m a 30 y/o natural med student in my second year of my 5 year degree. I live at my parent’s house in a relatively good neighbourhood, I have the most comfortable bed, a loving cat, a good-looking bedroom and many middle class luxuries…like an en suite. I have a very comfortable house to live in and there is always food whenever I feel like eating or even just to cook for fun(my talents lie in the kitchen, potions, medicines and treats are my favourite pastimes, I love to nourish people. Don’t let it fool you though.) it’s c o v i d year rn and I don’t pay for shit.. factually, I’m pretty privileged to have all that I do physically.

My parents have always been around in physicality, even when they weren’t there, especially when they weren’t there… which was and still is a lot. And in rolls one of the overarching themes emerges. Welcome welcome.

I got that far and took a Facebook break, bitch she runnin

So yeah I was born in this bitch back in 1990, two guys got here before me, one 11 years prior, the other 3 years after the first. Then I showed up after our parents reconciled after a 6-month separation. But like…that doesn’t happen in my life till 2019.

I’m currently contemplating piercing my lip or nose but I threw out all of my old jewellery. Geezus, it’s her and she is 22. (side note to myself, please ignore)

Anyway so yeah I get borned unto these guys; a drummer butalso telephone technician and an accountant, both were raised as worker bees but are actually uh..nope. spoiler one is a caster the other is a timekeeper. Both mages, but they don’t know.

I was this scared to shit little creature of a child. I slept between them once It was safe to do so (I know almost nothing about kids but I’m assuming it’s a safety hazard to sleep next to new-borns? let alone to let them sleep between two people whom are also asleep. Also, I recall sleeping in this white, wooden cot thing which used to chill next to their bed. It opened up like some gates did in those medieval(<-never understood this word tbh) castles, the ones that go vertically up and down. (Yes, I remember. I remember realising I was back on this plane when I was 2 months old, it’s my earliest memory-trust me this becomes highly unimpressive once I turn 23 so hold on before you think I’m lookin for clout on this one). Like I get that that is cute and all, legit I was cradled in safety but like, that cradle started to close in very soon. Too much of a good thing changes poles kids. Leave Jesus alone he wants to have some him time.

So yeah a lot happens that was quite significant during these first 4 years but I don’t remember much but a few glimpses. Bouncing on my dad’s chest, the lounge on a sunny Sunday, mom in a beige coat, long pretty hair, a family vacation where I wore this 2 piece I loved and there was a blue waterslide tube, a fight about racism (early 90s, go figure..but like also 2020 fr) a roller-skating rink, a “haunted” forest walk, Easter…. man that vacation was fun. Most of the things I remember were from age 4 onwards. But I do have snippets of before.. playing dress up with my cousins, hiding in cupboards, hiding behind makeshift tents, maaaaany makeshift tents, talks about camping outside by the pool (oh we had quite a nice sized house with a huge yard and quite a big pool too, I learned to swim when I was two, I spent a lot of time in and around water as a kidling) I spent and remember most of my time with my cousins and being angry at our aunts. I did ballet from the age of 4 as well, I remember my mom asking me if I wanted to do ballet and I said yes, we were in this blue ballet room where one of my cousins was busy with her class. She got here 7 or 8 years ahead of me too.

Idk my childhood was pretty colourful, even today, I remember it being filled with lots of adventure. At least until I started going to crèche, but only for mornings until the other kids got here and it took my mind off of the fact that my mom wasn’t there. I hated it when my mom left me anywhere, I still remember what that felt like and it’s still nauseating despite the fact that I’m about 26 years older now.

also i’m finally posting this now and the high has already worn off. 24 hours to go.

fuck.

#fuck #autobiography #biography #time to whine

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cutie1365 · 5 years

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 9

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 3551

Warnings: underage drinking, if there’s anything else I should add please let me know!

A/N: Wow it’s been a while. I know. But please give this some love! Like and reblog, let me know your favorite part and what you think is coming next in the comments! Please, these things are so small but help us writers so much! Thank you!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

You began to stir, your whole body engulfed in warmth. You heard soft snores next to you and opened your eyes slowly. Lying next to you, with his arms innocently draped around you, was none other than Peter Parker. All you wanted to do was nuzzle your head back into his chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. As you sleepily inched closer to him, a loud knock shook your room.

“Y/N, it’s me.” You heard from the other side of the door. Happy.

Peter shot up in bed, you both stared at each other wide eyed. You felt your heart begin to race. You untangled yourself from Peter and jumped out of bed. He almost began to speak, but you placed your hand over his mouth, placing another finger over your lip to shush him, and shoved him into the bathroom. You closed the door as quietly as you could, and made your way to Happy.

“Hey Happy.” You pulled the door open and spoke in a sleepy tone.

“Were you asleep?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh... yeah?” You stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hm. That’s new.” Happy looked surprised, nearly everyone in the tower knew you haven’t been sleeping for a while. You’d roam the halls at night, work in the lab, train in the gym, anything to keep your mind off of the circumstances that plagued your reality.

“Anyway, the movers are coming Monday morning to get your furniture and deliver it to your apartment. I’ll have someone leave some boxes for you to pack up the rest of your things. This is a hard deadline kid, you gonna be ready?” Happy asked. You could tell that he was stressed about this whole moving thing. You knew for a fact that closing was about a month away, but he probably wanted to get you out of his hair. One less thing to stress about.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine Hap, don’t worry.” You reassured him.

“Monday.” He repeated with a stern look.

“Monday.” You confirmed, nodding.

“And label the boxes you want going to your room upstate.” He reminded you.

“You got it.” You nodded again.

“The labs being packed up today so no tinkering.” He pointed his finger at you.

“This is a tinkering free zone, don’t worry.” You raised your hands in surrender.

“Alright.” Happy nodded, then suspiciously peaked his head inside your room, but didn’t seem to find anything.

“Bye Happy.” You smiled, he shot back a glare but you knew he secretly loved you, he was just stressed that’s all.

One he left you closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. Peter snuck back out of the bathroom carefully.

“That was a close call.” He spoke.

“Just be glad it wasn’t Pepper. She would have sniffed you out in a heartbeat.” You smiled.

“I don’t doubt it... so moving huh? It’s finally here.” Peter said, as you moved to sit at the edge of your bed.

“Yeah, we finalized on the apartment last week. It feels so weird, this place has been my home for so long now.” You looked around the room longingly, there were so many memories in this place.

“Have you always lived here?” Peter asked, moving to sit next to you.

“Well no, I- well I didn’t live with my dad until I was about 5 or so. I was a happy little accident, I’m pretty sure my mom was just a one night stand. Tony took me in after she died and he found out. I lived in Malibu with him for a few years, well Pepper really raised me at that point because he was a little, ya know, he was Tony, he’s changed and grown a lot. Um, then I came to a boarding school here in New York when I was 8 or so, until MIT. So of and on for 10 years?” You spoke, looking down at your hands. You didn’t like talking about your mother, considering you knew almost nothing about her.

“I never knew that. No one ever talks about your background.” Peter spoke softly, he could tell it was a sensitive subject for you, and reached out to reassuringly take your hand.

“No one really knows. We try to keep it as private as we can. That’s nearly impossible these days, everything I say and do gets blasted across page 6.” You groaned, even things you don’t do blow up on the internet. If you had a dollar for every rumor that was spread about you, you’d almost be as rich as your father.

“I don’t know how you do it. I never could.” Peter smiled.

“Perks of being a Stark I guess. Comes with the territory.” You shrugged. There was only so much you could do about it, most of the time you simply ignore it.

“Speaking of territory, not that I’m trying to kick you out, but don’t you normally do rounds at this time. Not that I track you or anything, I’m just sure Queens can’t possibly function without you.” You laughed nervously, which was out of character for you. You tried to gain some semblance of the confident front you usually portray.

“Let me guess, the suit has a tracker in it too?” Peter laughed.

“All the suits do, you’re not special Spidey.” You smirked.

“Ouch, I’m hurt. But also you’re right, I am late. I’ll send you the address for the party tonight. May can probably drive if you want?” Peter suggested, grabbing his suit.

“I’ll probably hire a car, I can snag you and Ned on the way if that’s easier?” You offered, you didn’t want May to have to drive all the way downtown for you.

“That works, I’ll see you tonight then.” Peter smiled sweetly, and after slipping into his suit, he exited from the balcony once more.

You spent the rest of the day packing up your room, mainly your closet. That also gave you time to think about what you would wear tonight. What do people wear to a highschool party? This is new territory for you. You can do galas, socials, balls, talk shows, press releases, but highschool? This shouldn’t be that hard. You get a call that your driver will be arriving in about 30 minutes, so you know you have to act fast.

You decide to leave your hair natural and put on a bit of makeup. Nothing extreme, mascara and highlighter to give you a natural glow. You slipped into some jeans, a simple red top and some wedges. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. You’ve been to the met gala for christ’s sake, this should be nothing compared to that, yet here you are.

As you pick up Peter and Ned, your nerves begin to calm. You feel comfortable around them.

Your driver drops the three of you off at the party, which was much farther into the suburbs than you expected. But wow the house was beautiful. And huge, which means something coming from you. Whatever this kid’s parents do, they’re doing a very good job.

Before you walked inside, your phone began to ring as the name of your publicist showed across the screen. Peter and Ned turned back to you, and Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Go ahead in, I’ll meet you in there.” You smiled. Raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked curiously.

“Ms. Stark, the New York Post is wanting a comment from you regarding the-.” Your publicist spoke in a very professional tone before you cut her off.

“Linda, it’s almost 10:00 at night. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until the morning. Goodnight.” You told her, sternly, but you should have listened.

“Yes, Ms. Stark.” She replied with a nervous tone before you ended the call.

As you entered the house, you heard yelling and laughter coming from the DJ stand and a beautiful girl walking away from Peter and Ned.

“Penis Parker, what’s up? Where’s your pal Spider-Man? Let me guess: in Canada with your imaginary girlfriend? That’s not Spider-Man, that’s just Ned in a red shirt.” The guy, who you could only assume to be Flash from what you’ve heard about Peter’s friends, taunted him.

You walked up to Peter, smiled and placed a hand on his arm, apologizing for the phone call.

“Holy shit is that Y/N Stark?” Flash speaks over the microphone and everyone turns around to face you. You smile back, and hear people start to whisper in awe. You gave Peter a look that said ‘I told you so’ and a wink.

“Well, well, well. You might not be Spider-Man, but I’m sure glad you’re here.” Flash left his DJ stand and made his way over to you, Peter, and Ned. He smirked as he attempted to flirt with you.

“You must be Flash.” You smiled, though he’d never know it wasn’t meant as a compliment.

“So you’ve heard of me?” His smirk grows even wider, “What brings a Stark here?”

“Well, my good friend Spider-Man was telling me about this party Peter invited him to, and he was just so crushed he wasn’t going to make it. So I agreed to fill in for the night.” You lied, and Flash was eating it up.

“Seems like a win for everyone. Well Parker, I didn’t know you had it in you. Showing up with Spider-Man’s girlfriend, you’ll be the talk of the town come Monday.” Flash patted Peter on the back, and your eyes went wide as you processed what he just said.

“I’m sorry, did you just say girlfriend?” You put on a brave face, but internally you were freaking out.

“You haven’t heard? Well I’m sure you had a very busy night.” Flash stated, with a wink that was clearly trying to imply something.

“Heard what?” You asked, trying to play dumb but you had a feeling of what was coming.

“See for yourself,” Flash handed you his phone open to the tabloid article, with a picture from last night of you and Peter, in the suit, sitting on your balcony edge. The sun set behind you, and you were looking at him as if you were the only two people on Earth, or in the universe for that matter. The picture was such high quality, it must have been taken from somewhere nearby. One of the other skyscrapers, probably the Empire State building next door.

The headline read: Stark’s Sunset Sexcapade with Spider-Man.

“When was this posted?” You asked, panic setting in. This is what your publicist was calling about.

“About an hour or so ago?” Flash shrugged and you handed him back his phone. In your pocket, your own phone began to buzz repeatedly, and you knew that meant a string of texts from your father. That could only be about one thing.

“Could you excuse me for a minute?” You rushed off down the hall, Peter could sense your fear, anger, whatever it was, and followed you. You slipped into an empty room, beginning to read the texts, as Peter entered the room behind you.

Tony Stark: Got something you wanna tell me?

Tony Stark: Normally I ignore these sort of stories and rumors, but that picture looks pretty real.

Tony Stark: Should I have Friday check the security cameras?

Y/N Stark: I’m sure you have more pressing matters to tend to at the moment

“Are you ok?” Peter asked timidly.

“No I’m not ok! You saw the article, do you understand what this means?” You shouted back, a little louder than you should have.

“It means people think you’re dating Spider-Man.” He stated simply.

“Ya know for a genius, you’re pretty dumb.” You shot back.

“I don’t see how this could be a bad thing? Is it really that horrible to imagine us together?” Peter asked gently.

“Yes!” You yelled, and Peter immediately looked hurt, “I mean no, but- It’s not you Peter, it’s Spider-Man. And you’ve just given yourself a weakness.” You tried to explain.

“What?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Before, no one had a clue who you were. Now they can connect you to me. Meaning if they want to get to you, they’re going to use me. Or if they want to get to me, they’ll use you.” You broke it down for him, as your phone buzzed again.

Tony Stark: This is a pressing matter, and you know I can’t allow this.

Y/N Stark: Funny, I don’t remember asking for permission or having any reason to need to. Nothing happened, pressing matter solved.

You quickly turned off your phone before you could see a reply.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Peter swore. You looked up to him and your demeanor changed. You shouldn’t be taking this out on him, you should have been more careful.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve had a target on my back since I was a kid. To date no one has succeeded in kidnapping me.” You tried to cheer him up, though you were doing a shitty job.

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked curiously, but also cautiously. He knew it was never a good idea to piss off a Stark.

“There’s nothing I can do, so I’m going to get very drunk and forget it happened.” You stated simply, and exited the room, returning to the party. You didn’t see the crushed look on Peter’s face, thinking you wanted to forget about last night.

And you did exactly what you said you would do: get very drunk.

You didn’t see Peter for the rest of the party, and you wondered where he’d snuck off to. You hoped he wasn’t mad at you for yelling at him, though he’d have every right to be. You finally stumbled upon Ned and attempted to ask him if he’d seen Peter. In your drunken state it came out as more of a mumble littered between laughter. He knew you were in pretty deep, and while taking care of a drunk Stark would probably be the highlight of his life, he didn’t want this responsibility to fall on him.

“Peter? It’s Y/n, she’s, well, listen for yourself.” Ned had gotten Peter on the phone, after helping you to the spare bedroom you were in before.

“Peter?? Is that you?” You giggled into the phone as you plopped on the bed, “Hiiii I miss you, where’d you go?” You now wore the expression of a sad puppy, which, if he were where to see it, Peter would have thought adorable.

“I’m sorry, I’m on my way back.” Peter reassured you.

“This party was amazing! Everyone is soooo nice. I wonder why?” You asked innocently, hanging off the bed.

“Probably because you’re a billionaire.” Peter laughed, at your state, as he walked back through the door to the house.

“Ooooh for the clout, gotcha gotcha, cool cool cool cool.” You replied, your drunken state now turning sleepy, just as Peter walked into the bedroom and Ned stood to leave.

“Peter, as awesome as this has been, it’s your turn to deal with the drunk celebrity.” Ned took his phone out of your hands and made his way towards the door.

“Byeeeeee Ned.” You smiled and shot him some finger guns. He shot some back, and raised an eyebrow to Peter before leaving.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, moving to sit onto the bed you’re now sprawled across.

“Iiii feel great. I mean, there’s the whole ‘my dad’s probably gonna kill me’ thing, but like besides that, I’m good.” You attempted to sit up, falling back down, and having Peter assist and hold you up.

“I’m sure it will be fine. Nothing happened, I was just helping out a friend in need.” He tried to convince himself that that’s all it was.

“Right. Friend. Cool.” You mumbled, Peter raised an eyebrow but didn’t press any further, “Oh, that Liz chick totally likes you by the way.”

“What? Liz?” Peter asked, and it almost seemed like a bit of excitement in his voice, or maybe it was just surprise.

“Mhm, you must have some special effect on older girls.” You rolled your eyes.

“What does that mean?” Peter asked, but he knew.

“Nothing.” You turned away from him, jealousy sobering you up quickly.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Peter smiled, he was going there. You simply shrugged and crossed your arms.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Peter spoke, and you whipped around to face him.

“Excuse me, Mr., I am not jealous, ok, I’m perfectly fine.” You nearly fell off the bed, Peter caught you and helped you upright.

“Admit it, you’re jealous.” Peter smirked.

“Am not.” You argued.

“Are too.” He held his smirk.

“Am not.” You laughed and playfully pushed him. Your hands still pressed against his shirt, you paused, weighing your options, glancing at his lips. You leaned in slowly,and pressed your lips to his. He kissed you back for a moment before stopping you.

“Y/N, you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right.” Peter spoke, his voice barely over a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” You said, just as quietly, pulling away even farther from him.

“I don’t want you to do something you’d regret.” Peter explained, and you knew he was doing the right thing.

“Probably a good idea.” You stated monotonically, thinking you’d just gotten shot down, your drunk mind not entirely understanding the situation.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to though-” Peter began, and you plopped back straight onto the bed with a sigh.

“I don’t wanna date Spider-Man.” You said after a few moments of silence, no doubt you had had a whole conversation in your head between then and this was the next logical thought coming to the surface.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Peter asked, internally laughing at your drunken state.

“There’s this kid. He’s from Queens.” You explained.

“Must be a lucky guy.” Peter smirked.

“You got that right.” You retorted, causing Peter to laugh and stand up from the bed with arms outstretched.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Peter helped you to your feet.

“Where’d you run off to tonight?” You asked, as he began to gather your things.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Fought some bad guys, got dropped in a lake by some weird bird man, almost drowned.” He stated casually.

“You WHAT.” You nearly shouted at him.

“Yeah, your dad kinda bailed me out.” He explained, scratching the back of his neck.

“My dad?” You furrowed your brows, wasn’t he out of the country?

“Well one of his suits.” Peter explained, handing you your jacket and helping you put it on.

“Do you not know how to swim?” You teased.

“Well, uh, you know the bird man kinda brought me pretty far up... so my parachute deployed and it got kinda tangled up and-” Peter explained slowly.

“Omg I could have killed you. This is my fault Peter I’m sorry. I should have programed the parachute to deploy at your command not automatically I-” You whipped around to face him, grabbing onto his arms and rambling.

“Hey hey, its ok, I’m ok, it’s not your fault.” Peter reassured you, hugging you to calm you down.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you.” You muttered into his chest. Peter smiled sadly, wanting to promise he’d never leave, but knowing his line of work, stayed silent and comforted you instead.

Peter got you into the car, thankful the driver wasn’t Happy. Almost immediately you fell asleep on his shoulder.

When you arrived back at the tower, Peter helped you back up to your room. You were so sleepy he thought he might have to carry you. You made it into the elevator, but on the long ride up about 90 floors, you began to nod off again. Peter let you sleep, and scooped you into his arms effortlessly. He could hear your soft, slow breaths, and almost cringed as the elevator dinged so loudly as it arrived at your floor, hoping it wouldn’t wake you.

He carried you into your room, and placed you gently into bed. As he began to tuck you in and pull the covers over you, you began to stir.

“You were right.” You mutter softly, looking up to Peter with a gentle smile before closing your eyes again and nuzzling into the pillow.

“About?” He asked quietly.

“I could have, possibly, a little bit, I mean there’s a chance that-” You spoke slowly, drawing out your sleepy words in an attempt to avoid the subject.

“Y/N.” Peter spoke your name so softly.

“I was jealous.” You admitted, before falling back asleep.

A smile spread across Peter’s face, as he finished tucking you in and making sure you’re ok. He grabbed a glass of water and sat it on your nightstand for when you wake up. Before leaving, he took one last look at you, laying so peacefully. He gently brushed the hair out of your face and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Your father is going to kill me.” He muttered and sighed softly, realizing he was in too deep now.

Chapter 10 Coming Soon

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lockdownuk · 4 years

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Lockdown Diary Part 6

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 151: Great hour or so last night around Foggy’s. When I got home I watched World War Z and some stand up by Nate Bargatze and drank and smoked loads. Today, I got up just before 2pm and felt soooo unmotivated. I was going to have a day of doing fuck all but had a change of heart around 7pm so did my stair climb then walked for over an hour (7km) and got home at 9:30pm!

Day 152: Typing on day 153. I popped up and saw Foggy last night. One of the reasons was I wanted to take him a beer to say thanks for looking over my mitigation statement for my impending court hearing for speeding. He liked what i wrote but has given me some key amendments. Basically free solictor advice and I am very grateful. While there he hit me with the news that Ham’s sister, Preeya, has died (last Friday 14th August) from Covid 19. To say i was gobsmacked is an understatement. She was 49. The family could only talk to her over a loud speaker and had to say good bye that way as her life support was swithced off. Fucking hell, it’s terrible. And, what makes it worse, is how complacent I have become about the disease while it’s causing so much tragedy. As I said to Foggy, it’s important to renew our efforts in combatting this disease so that Preeya’s death at least means we learn. I also feel guilty for not realising that many people have passed like this - just because I (sort of) knew Preeya doesn’t mean I shouldn’t feel any less sorry for the dozens of people dying and many more affected everyday. My emotions are in turmoil and yet I’m not directly affected.

Day 153: Typing this on day 154. Gone midday before I woke up. Beers in the evening and watched Den of Thieves. Great film.

Day 154: Woke up at 2:37 pm FFS. Just done a walk and I feel like shit (booze induced).

Day 155: Went to bed at about 4am yesterday but was up at 10am today so, usual Monday correction of sleep patterns. Two long walks today plus a little housekeeping on photos, sharing to the Oundle chatter group, so, quite constructive. Hoir chat with dad plus a chat with a recruitment agemt about a helpdesk manager role in Peterborough.

Day 156: Typing on Day 157. I saw Karen sitting with TTP (and two others I couldn’t make out) at the T&K on my second walk. Why does that piss me off so much? I am being like Jack in Midnight Run. I need to let go.

I am also getting wound up with Tumblr - I can only make entries on this diary blog on the PC - when I try on the Android or Apple apps, they pop up with ‘post too long’. Trying getting info from Tumblr’s online help on that though - fucking not happening. I think I might move this to a Google Blog...it’s not like anyone else reads it. I’m not sure I’d want that - it’s far more a private diary now rather than the cute ‘blog’ idea it started out as. It is now a disciplinary exercise more than anything.

Day 158: Feeling less sorry for myself now. It’s 10pm and I am having a midweek beer as I wait for tea to cook.

Day 159: Decided I will split this diary into 30 day sections to appease Tumblr. My second walk today was at 8pm ‘cos it was pissing down from about 4pm ‘til 7:30pm...very dark and so wet. Home by 9.15pm.

Day 160: I went shopping in Corby (Tesco and Asda) - I only really went so I could get blue eggs. £75 on booze! I was going up to Fog’s tonight but at around 6pm it started to piss down. So, I shall drink at home. It’s 9.15pm, I think it’s going to get messy.

Day 161: Not sure when I wnet to bed last night but I didn’t get up until 2pm. Nice long walk (9km) in the rain!

Banners and Sam G went to London to have a few with Andy P. I’m a little flabbergasted, it’s like there’s no Covid19 all a sudden.

Day 162: Bank holiday Sunday so I am having a beer or two. Tea’s cooking, gonna watch The Accountant on BBC1 at 10.30pm. Today I got up at 1.55pm and managed to have a shower and be downstairs to see the start of the Belgian GP. Hamilton won, pretty easily. I then did my stair climb and a 9.8km (6 mile) walk.

Last night I watched a rather quirky, entertaining comic horror film called Ready or Not and then Ricky Gervais - Fame. That’s the tour I saw him live after seeing Henman’s final tennis match at the Davis Cup at Wimbledon. Bloody funny - the recording could even be the show Karen and I were at. Bed at around 5am, hence not egtting up ‘til way past midday!

Day 163: Bank Holiday Monday, just like a Sunday. I am making this entry on my phone as I'm now able to due to breaking up the diary blog into 30 day sections.

Molly's Game, a film I've tried to rewatch several times but it's never been free, is on BBC2 tonight. I'm recording it right now but actually watching Seinfeld from the start on All4. The first couple of episodes are a bit ropey if truth be told. Luckily, I know it improves.

Day 164: Managed to get hold of Michelle via her daughter Daisy to place a nice big order for C. Just as well ‘cos Tim’s ignoring me!

Rang and spoke with Barry Haddon today to check he’s OK.

Day 165: Picked up C from Michelle’s in Yarwell. While there I was mauled by her over friendly Staffordshirebull terrier getting bit on the thigh. Twice in six months I’ve been bitten by dogs.

Karen WhatsApp’d to see if I’d seen Miley Cyrus on the Live Lounge!

Day 166: Forgot to say that yesterday, I also bumped into and chatted with Pete Gilder. We mainly talked about (getting caught) speeding.

Today I did over 22k steps and I am fucked.

I replied to an email from Shirley at work HR. After the furloughed staff call on Thursday, which I didn’t attend, they want us to cash in some (more) hoilday, which is fine by me, but I have also asked if we are any clearer as to what happens on 1st October, when the rentention scheme ends. I await her reply.

Day 167: Another 20k stpes today. Just 24k needed to have completed 1m steps since the start of July.

It’s Friday, about 9.45pm. I’m going to watch Molly’s Game and have a few beers.

Day 168: Got up at just before 2pm. It’s now 10.15pm and I am just having my first beer, Today was a lazyish day, completed 12k steps.

Day 169: Completed the 1m steps with 24 days to spare. Woohoo. Now, I am unsure whether to reduce the walking I have got so used to doing? I think I might keep up an average of 11k steps a day which is all I would have needed to accomplish to reack 1m in 3 months.

I’m pleased I did it today since I :went to bed a nearly 5am this morning!

Day 170: Actually typing this on day 171. Feels weird having done the 1m steps, almost like I’ve nothing to do. However, I am of course going to keep walking but not quite as hard/much. I did feel liek I was walking myself into the ground all in the name of finishiong the task ASAP. So, today I only had one walk, did 11,5k.

Yesterday’s Italian GP was a cracker. Hamilton had a penalty and ikt ended up with Gasly winning. Full of incident including a red flag so the race ‘restarted’.

I completely forgot ot make this entry on the correct day?

Day 171: I have decided to press on with the walking - not quite so urgently as before - to see what I can achieve steps-wise in 3 months. So, today, an unusually hot day for September, I did 18k steps plus cleaned the bathroom, hoovered my room and stairs and hallway. I am fucked!

Today I have bought a set of smart scales and a new pair of Skechers. The Skechers were almost free (£69 reduced to £30ish which I had in Paypal) and the scales were £20. Still, I shouldn’t. I don’t know what will happen at the end of October when the CJRS ends plus I don’t know what punsihment will be dished out, any day now, for the speeding offence! Fuck it!

Day 172: An eventful day. Boris has restricted gatherings to no more than 6 people and will use ‘Covid Marshalls’ to police this. It’s causing a stir amongst the online community. I have set up accounts with Gurushots and Picfair to showcase my snaps. The latter offers the opportunity to sell them. I watched Anchorman 2. It was pretty good. I also postd on the Oundle chatter group about walking in front of a car the other day - the driver, a yound lady, was enchanting the way she just smiled and let me pass - I used it as an opportunity to ask about George Higgins saving a child from near death at the hands of a lorry, the post about which has disappeared.

Day 173: Lots have seen my post re: my car incident but the bait hasn’t been taken.

Sarah Haines made a nice comment about my photo posts on the Oundle Chatter group also saying that she doesn’t know me but, it turns out she does. She is James Watson’s ex from when I first moved to Oundle so we caught up on Messenger.

Rachel Harris posted a meme slating Boris about the fact we were all encouraged to go out and about (inclding the Eat Out to Help Out scheme) and now we are being sent back to ‘our room’. Some of the comments continue to slate the government. I couldn’t resist commenting that, had the royal ‘we’ maintined social distancing and remembered there’s a fucking pandemic, perhaps we might not be under impending severe lockdown, as it now looks like. I also mentioned photos I have seen (one posted by Rach herslf) whereby you could be mistaken for thinking that there isn’t a pandemic. I have finished the comment with a line about we can only blame ourselves, not the hapless government! I wonder what reaction that will get!

Day 174: Scales were delivered today. If they are accurate I am a little over 11 stones, from 12st 7lbs before lockdown. Can’t quite believe it. I have a yearly diabetic review with Lynne in October so i can check then. If the scales are wrong, I’ll be livid on 2 scores!

Friday night beers as I type. Been looking forward to them since last Saturday!

Day 175: I do not trust the new scales. I get a different reading each time I step on them and by 10-12 lbs. Fucking things. Boots arrived today - they’re going back as well. Footy season started today. Posh lost away to Acrrington Stanley. “Who are they?”

Day 176: The GP was reflagged again today (a new track at Tuscany. A red flag two races on the trot is most unusual. Hamilton won.

Day 177: I managed to get the scales working. I’m pretty much the same weight I was prior to ld (about 12.5 st). This leads me to believe that if I wasn’t doing all the walking I am, I would be as fat as a fucking house. On that note, Google Fit is playing up. It loses the step and heart point count for each walk (although the workouts retain the route map info) Wtf?

I think K and TTP might be a thing from a post I saw on FB whereby some chap (who I don’t know) commented on TTP’s post that it was nice to see him and K. Kinda gutted if it is true but I shouldn’t be. That’s all I will say on here.

Day 178: Jim contacted me today to let me know he’s leaving RCI. He was quite secretive about why and what’s going on but, there it is. He went on to say that HR will be contacting me shortly to call me back from furlough. Sueanne is taking over as team leader but that’s temporary. and that they will most likely promote from within. I struggling to think what it would be like if Mark was boss! The way RCI are and how disjointed it is with Jim as boss, I shan’t take it as read until HR do contact me. Also, I dunno how I feel about it...I have got so used to not working. But, and it’s a big but, I doubt I’ll have a job after the retention scheme finishes so, if this does pan out, it’s good. I’ll be back to job hunting while in a job, as per before the pandemic.

Also, I received an email letting me know the punishment for my speeding offence was 6 points and a £233 fine, plus costs (£90) and victim support (£34), £357 in total. More than I expected. But, no ban, so I’ll suck it up.

Day 179: Having midweek beers. I'm in that sort of mood.

Day 180: I WhatsApp’d Jim to let him know HR haven’t contacted me. His garbled response went from telling to give them a shout and let them know he is leaving, to which I asked ‘don’t they know?’, he then said hold fire (on Sueanne’s instruction) and she has said for me to sit tight and then, finally, that HR will contact me! Fuck knows what’s going on! I had a diabetic review with Lynne today. When you go to the surgery you have to let in, which I was by Keren. It was nice to see and chat with her. She is back with Ronnie which was news to me. Then Lynne came and got me. It was nice to see and chat with her also. She weighed me and I’m 12st 3lb. Apparently in Jan last year I was over 13st!

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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horansqueen · 4 years

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AM Conversations : chapter 43

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- you can send me questions and theories and comments. tbh they all make me SO SO SO SOOOO HAPPY! and make me want to write more! you can also tell me if there are things you WANT to happen. you never know, i may add it :P

- note for this chapter: i wanted to post this chapter quickly because it followed the other. but i promise a LOT of fluff in the next few chapters!!! super super fluff with lots of love and affection!! :D

no request for this chapter but I promise a few in the next!

Chapter 43 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

I was exhausted when everyone left and we both walked to Niall's room slowly without sharing a word. I got undressed and put a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on and when I turned around, I realized he was doing the same thing, jumping slightly to pull his pants up.

"Can I ask you something random?" he wondered, without looking at me.

The fact that his eyes wouldn't meet mine made me frown and I just licked my lips, shrugging a shoulder.

"You can ask me anything, you know it."

I kept looking at him but he was just standing on his side, looking at the wall in front of him as he put his shirt on and I felt my heartbeats accelerate. I didn't know what he wanted to ask, and I didn't know why he was avoiding my gaze, but it started stressing me. He cleared his throat and looked down at his wrist as he took his watch off.

"While I was gone did you... I mean, you spent a lot of time with Louis so I was wondering if you had... thought about him in a... sexual way."

My lips parted in shock as I kept staring at my boyfriend. I probably remained quiet for a bit too long because he finally turned to me, his eyes meeting mine.

"So?"

"Why would you ask me that?" I frowned more, wondering where exactly that came from.

"And why won't you answer?"

Something instantly seemed to click inside me and my traits softened as my heart twisted in my chest. I took a step closer and shook my head lightly as he kept looking at me. I didn't want to have this discussion. I was tired, a bit sad because of all the comments I had read online about me and the last thing I needed were those kinds of questions, but I felt like it was deeper than it seemed and it hurt me in a way I couldn't explain.

"You're asking me that because you did... you wanted to fuck someone else when you were gone. Maybe more than one girl, too." I let out so low, watching his face change. "You said you didn't cheat on me but you... you wanted to do it."

"Okay so I thought about shagging one random girl after being away from you for weeks, it means nothing!" he quickly let out, his voice a bit louder than I expected. "But you! You thought about one of my best mates fucking you! Maybe even here! In my house!"

"I never said I thought about him like that!" I argued, raising my voice too and taking a step forward. "You know I love you!"

"This is not about love! It's about sex!"

"You said it was linked!" I let out, almost screaming. His face changed again and I could swear I read guilt all over it. I swallowed hard and my voice got back to a normal tone. "Remember? You said it's normally not linked but that this relationship was different."

"Did you or did you not think about Louis like that?" he asked again, ignoring my comment.

I blinked a few times, trying to remember the feelings and thoughts i may have had when I spent time with Louis but to me, it was ridiculous.

"Does it make you feel better?" I asked, shaking my head a bit, not believing we were having this discussion. "Would it make you feel better to know you're not the only one who wanted to fuck someone else? So you can stop feeling guilty for flirting with that girl in an other country while I was here waiting for you to call?"

"You're avoiding my question!" he said in an angry tone, making me frown.

"No! My answer is no!" It took me a few seconds to realize that tears were falling down my cheeks but I didn't know if I was crying of pain or anger. "You're alone in that, Niall! So that bad guilty feeling eating you up? You fucking deserve it!"

I was expecting him to scream back at me but I was hoping he'd apologize. He did neither. He stared at me for a few seconds and finally grabbed his wallet next to the bed and walked past me. I wanted to run after him but I felt paralyzed and it's only when I heard the front door slam that I breathed in, realizing I had stopped. I felt my legs wobble and sat on the bed, swallowing my pain and closing my eyes. I felt like shit for the argument we just had but at the same time, I was too hurt to try and solve it. Did Niall really think about an other girl? I knew it was normal to lust other people to some extent but that didn't mean it didn't hurt... How could he lust someone else so soon in this relationship? Could we blame that on the distance? I rubbed my eyes a few times but couldn't hold it anymore and started crying.

I lied down in bed and wrapped the covers over myself, rubbing my face on the pillow. I suddenly realized that it would always feel like that and that I'd always be scared of what could happen. The self-confidence I didn't have was going to hurt me and ruin my relationship. Niall hadn't done anything but I was crying as if he had and I couldn't control the tears. I wanted to text him to come back but if I wanted to be honest with myself, I knew it was okay to be away from each other for a few hours.

I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up, I realized it was still the middle of the night. I heard Niall drop his keys on the coffee table in the living room and sat up, rubbing my eyes.

"Stupid couch!" he tried to whisper, mumbling his words.

I held my breath when I realized he had drank and felt my heart twist in my chest. I knew that having an other discussion at that moment would be bad and I just lied back down and closed my eyes, waiting for him to walk in. He eventually did and it didn't take him long to get under the covers with me. I tried to keep my tears in but the fact that he lied down with his back facing me hurt me even more than I already was. I waited until my eyes got used to the darkness and stared at the back of his nape, doing everything I could not to bring my hand to his hair. I was not mad at him anymore, just hurt and sad, and when he started snoring lightly, I moved close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body emanate on mine. Slowly, I brought my face closer and pressed my lips gently on his neck.

"I love you, Niall." I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Goodnight."

-----

When I woke up the next day it took me a few seconds to remember the fight we had the night before. I reached in bed, running my hand on the cold and soft sheets, only to realize Niall wasn't in bed anymore. I felt my heart hurt and I sighed before opening my eyes and staring up at the ceiling. Niall and I rarely fought and if i wanted to be honest, everything had happened so quickly that I wasn't sure what exactly went on. When he read the mean comments online, he made it clear that it was not what he thought of me and only a few hours later, he accused me to have impure thoughts for his friend. He didn't admit it but I knew he had wanted to have sex with girls he met during his trip and even if it hurt like hell, I knew it was not a reason to fight. Niall had always been popular, whether it was just around our small town, or around the world, and he was never really the kind of guy to get into steady relationships. He did have a few but in the end, he always seemed happier when he was single. The truth was, I wanted to be the exception. I wanted to be the girl who would make it all worth it.

I got up and shivered, feeling goosebumps appear all over my body. I searched through his stuff and found one of his sweaters, quickly putting it on. As soon as I opened the door, I smelled coffee and walked quickly until the kitchen. He was there, his back facing me as he cleaned the mess we had left the night before with our friends. I noticed a cup of steaming coffee waiting for me on the island and pressed my lips together as I walked closer. It was my favorite mug and it made me smile. I glanced up but he was still not looking at me even if I knew he heard me and could feel my presence. I took a few sips as he brought the dirty dishes on the counter and started filling the sink. I didn't say anything, I just walked up to him and he moved away, giving me space. I put myself in front of the sink and started adding soap in it as it filled. There was clearly too much foam and I finally heard his voice for the first time this morning.

"Maybe you put too much soap, don't you think?"

His words made my heart jump in my chest as I thought about the last time he said that to me. We normally put the dishes in the dishwasher and I couldn't help but think he did that on purpose, just to remind me of that time at the lodge. I felt my lips curl and I chuckled low, grabbing foam with my hand and turning his way before blowing on it.

"You're gonna pay for that." he had talked low and gently and I suspected it was more to make that memory live again than out of annoyance.

I laughed and turned around, leaning my ass against the sink. He took a step my way slowly, pressing his body against mine as I looked up. I didn't say anything when he brought his hand from behind my back only to wipe foam on my nose but my smile got bigger and I raised my nose up in an amused grimace.

"Is that the best you can do?" I asked low, slowly taking the foam off.

He shook his head, a smile on his face, and finally bent down to press his lips against mine. I waited until he deepened the kiss and just closed my eyes, letting him lead. He tasted like coffee and I just enjoyed the way his tongue moved against mine. No one had ever kissed me the way Niall did. At first, I thought it was simply because of the feelings I had for him but with time, I realized it was more than that. We didn't just kiss like lovers, we kissed like lovers who have known each other for decades, and it made a huge difference.

"I love you so much, petal." he breathed in my mouth. "I'm so sorry for last night."

Instead to answer, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeper. We remained like that for a while but he finally pulled away slightly and leaned his forehead against mine as his hands reached my waist. He led me back until an other part of the counter, exactly where I was sitting the night before, and helped me sit on it again.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked, trying to pull on my sweatpants as I stared at him.

I didn't know if he apologized for the fight or for the fact that he wanted to have sex with someone else but in the end, it didn't matter. I nodded slowly, looking back in his eyes, and moved my butt up to let him pull my pants down. His lips reached for my neck and after only a few seconds, he got down on his knees and my lips parted in surprise. His lips brushed on my thighs and I held my breath until he pressed them on my pussy. Skillfully, his tongue slid inside me and I shut my eyes tight.

"Fuck."

This is not what I had expected my morning to be like. I thought we'd have a discussion or that we'd fight again, but I honestly didn't think i'd end up sitting on the kitchen's counter with Niall's face between my legs, not that I was complaining. We had spent many days just us two, making love whenever we wanted, after he came back, but I could never get too much of his lips wrapped around my clit.

"Oh god don't stop, i'm gonna cum."

I brought my hand to his hair and gripped it gently as I ground my hips against his mouth until I reached an orgasm. It spread all over me and I started shaking but I felt Niall's hand holding my knees apart as he stayed between my legs until my whole body relaxed. My eyes fluttered open and he got up. I smiled when I noticed his lips glistening from my orgasm and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

"How bad do you want to be inside me?" I whispered, rubbing my parted lips against his wet ones.

He didn't answer, he just smiled and I glanced down only to see him pull his sweatpants down his ass.

"Do you think the table can support my weight?" I asked with a smirk before chuckling.

I didn't wait for his answer and got off the counter to reach the table. I sat on it and felt his hands run on my thighs and up my waist, grabbing the bottom of my sweatshirt and pulling it off for me and letting it fall on the floor. He kissed me softly, running one of his hands between my breasts and pushing me gently. I lied down and sent him a smile as his eyes roamed on my naked body. Quickly, I watched him grab the back of his shirt to take it off and he moved closer to the table.

"I want you so fucking bad." he admitted in a whisper. "I want no one else. Just you. All of you."

I swallowed my tears and smiled at him fondly, watching him through my eyelashes. I could feel his hard cock press on my pussy, his tip gliding easily on my clit and making my legs tense.

"Then take me, i'm all yours." I murmured back. "I've always been yours."

He moved away slightly only to push himself very slowly inside me, his eyes never leaving mine. I tried to focus on how well he filled me and how our bodies always seemed to fit perfectly but I cared more about the way he was looking at me... like I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen... like I was the only girl worth looking at. I didn't know why he was looking at me like that and I was well aware that he had met girls a million times prettier, and seen girls naked with perfect bodies... but in that very moment, because of the way he was looking at me, I felt like I beat all of them.

"Oh my god." I whispered when he was completely inside me.

I pressed my lips together and he remained still. I could feel myself throb around his cock but I tried not to move as his hands traveled on my breasts and stomach gently. I didn't want to feel self-conscious, I just wanted to enjoy this moment and live it plenty. Slowly, he bent closer and his lips reached mine. I kept my arms on each side of my head and felt his hands travel on them before reaching my fingers and gripping them. He moved his hips slightly back before pushing himself inside me again and it made me whimper.

"I love you so much, you feel so fucking good." he whispered again, taking my upper lip between his and sucking on it gently. "You're so fucking wet, warm and tight." he added just as low. "And beautiful."

Despite his warm body over me, I shivered and gripped his fingers tighter. His lips ran very slowly until my neck and I turned my head to give him a better access. I felt his teeth nibble my skin before he dropped a few kisses on the same spots.

"Please, Niall..." I whimpered in a begging tone.

He brought his lips back on mine and kissed me, making a vestige of my orgasm transfer on my own taste buds, but he finally got back up, gripping my thighs, his fingers sinking in my skin. He started thrusting in and out of me slowly at first but more vigorously after a while and I let my own hands run on my breasts as he stared at my movements. He looked down only to see his cock move in and out of me and finally let go of one of my thighs to lick his thumb and bring it between my legs. I twitched and moaned louder when he started rubbing my clit with it.

"Fuck, you're so wet."

He didn't even look up in my eyes, he just stared at his thumb brushing on my clit as he fucked me harder, making my body jerk and throb more and more.

"I can feel you clench around me, you're close pet, aren't you?"

When his eyes met mine, I nodded so quickly that a smirk appeared on his face.

"Cum for me."

That's all it took for me to reach my peak for the second time.

"Oh my god, f-fuck, Niall!" I closed my eyes tight and I started shaking uncontrollably as he kept fucking me and rubbing my clit through my orgasm. "Niall!"

"Fuck i can't-"

Swiftly, he moved his cock out of me and jerked himself a few times before spurting on my lower stomach. My lips parted again as I watching him cum on me and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him push his cock back inside me, cumming some more in my pussy. The thought was so hot I started shaking again as he fucked me a couple more times.

"Fuck, i'm sorry." he whispered, laying his chest back on mine and burring his face in my neck. "You just feel so fucking good around me, I wanted to feel it for a few more seconds."

I didn't answer but his words made me smile and I brought my arms around him, letting my fingertips brush on his back slowly. We stayed quiet for a few minutes and after a while, I just licked my lips.

"Yesterday, you called me 'honey'" I let out, biting my bottom lip. "That's also the safe word you picked when we went on that double date."

There was no question in my sentence but I knew he understood when he chuckled against my neck.

"You smell like a mix of honey and vanilla." he explained, leaving a kiss on my skin. "I only noticed that a few days after we came back from tour but it sort of obsessed me."

My lips curled into an amused smile and I chuckled.

"I obsessed you?"

"Yea, and you still do." he admitted. "And not just sexually."

I smiled even more, liking the fact that he answered my question before I even had time to ask him. A lot of thoughts started running in my mind and my smile died slowly as I thought about the night before.

"You left to go drink last night, did you?"

I heard him sigh and he moved away a bit to be able to look in my eyes. My gaze roamed on his face and I could see how guilty he felt. I knew it was a bad moment to go through, but we had to talk about it.

"Yea, and i'm sorry. I was scared to make things worse and... you were right. I felt guilty as shit." he confessed, looking down but quickly looking back up in my eyes. "I did lust a girl on that trip. It lasted half a second, if even, and I hated myself for it. Then I started thinking that maybe you lusted someone else too. I mean if I did, then why couldn't you, you know? When I saw how close you and Louis became while I was gone... I lost it."

I didn't talk, I couldn't talk. I just looked intensely at him, trying to keep my tears in. I knew that if I talked, my voice would crack, so I just pressed my lips together and waited

"That night, I ran back to the motel in the rain and waited for your call alone in a disgusting and dark room... and it hit me so hard to realize that life was still going on while I was gone. The world kept turning, the sun kept shining, and someone else was there to make you laugh, to bring you places, to have conversations with you at night. And that person was not me."

I brought one of my hands to his face, brushing my thumb slowly on his cheek, right under his eye. He was so handsome, so fucking beautiful, and the confession he was telling me made me realize that he loved me more than I thought he did, even if he made mistakes, sometimes, the way I did too.

"I was so jealous. I still am. I'm so fucking jealous and i'm not used to it. I don't know how to handle it, or what to do with it. It makes my insides burn so bad. I mean I know it's not rational, and I do trust in you it's just..."

He shook his head with a grimace and I knew exactly how he felt.

"It's okay, I get it." I let out in a low tone.

He blinked a few times, his gaze falling on my lips as I nibbled on my bottom one without really realizing it.

"I made you feel like that a lot, didn't I?" he asked as I nodded. "And I bet I will again without even wanting to."

"Probably." I murmured. "You're always around beautiful girls. And everyone loves you."

"It doesn't matter who else loves me, Olivia." he pointed out, the left corner of his lips moving up. "I only love you. No one else. Focus on that."

I knew that at some point, Niall would start writing songs again. I knew he'd record an album, I knew he'd go on tour, I knew he'd meet tons of girls, go to galas, make collaborations and concerts... I knew that many girls would flirt with him and try to get a piece of him, even if they'd know he was taken, and i'd have to be strong or it would kill me.

"Do you promise to always be honest with me?"

"I thought you'd make me promise to always be faithful to you." he raised his eyebrows in surprise and I just sighed.

"Can you really promise me that?" I said with a shrug, looking away. "Do you think you could really keep that promise?"

"Hey, hey..." he said a little louder, trying to get my attention. I held my breath and looked back in his eyes. "Yes, I can keep that promise. I promise to always be faithful to you, and I promise to always be honest with you. On my life, Olivia, I swear."

I didn't know why, but his words made me feel better. I emptied my lungs and sent him a small and fond smile.

"I promise you the same."

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan story #niall horan writing #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #amc #my fanfics

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bytheangell · 5 years

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if you're still taking prompts, could you write something (maybe set in the future like post finale when they are ... happy at last) about the fact that alec's self-harming habit has come up again? (like in 3x16, and kinda in what he does with his hands at the end of 3x17 too). i feel like the show is not gonna bring it up again and i would love to read a fic where magnus & alec talk about it!

shed my skin, my scars(Read on AO3)

The mission went so wrong, so quickly, none of them had time to process what was happening until it was all over. The intel was bad and instead of just a demon or two the patrol Alec sent out on what should’ve been a routine mission found itself outnumbered by a clan of rogue vampires. They were down three men before they knew what hit them. By the time Alec arrived with back-up the patrol of 7 was a patrol of 3, and they lost half a dozen more after that.

It’s one of his first back after his and Magnus’ honeymoon - which Magnus had to practically beg him to take in the aftermath of everything with Jonathan and Asmodeus and a very long string of ‘what can go wrong, will’ messes to clean up. Things looked like they were finally settling down. He was happy. They were happy. So of course it couldn’t last forever.

“I’m just going to finish the report then notify the families. You can go,” Alec dismisses Jace who hesitates.

“It isn’t your fault, Alec. We all thought the Intel was solid.” “Yeah, I know.” Alec nods, but they both know he doesn’t agree.

“At least let me help. You don’t have to do this alone, Alec,” Jace insists, lingering by the door.

“No, it’s-” Alec sighs. “They were my responsibility. I’ll handle it.” Alec looks back down resolutely at the paperwork on his desk and ignore the unsure look on his parabatai’s face until he hears the click of the door closing.

A: Hey, this is going to take all night to wrap up, so I’m just going to crash here when I’m done. See you tomorrow, love you

He sends the text off to Magnus so that he doesn’t wait up for him, not wanting his husband to worry.

Alec finishes the filing. He makes all the calls, one after another, nine in a row. Each one breaks him a little further. Each one weighs a little heavier, hurts a little more. He feels guilty for not doing this in person but there are too many, it’d take all night and half the day tomorrow that way.

When he’s done he doesn’t go home - he goes to the training room, taking off his ring and placing it carefully to the side, but forgoing gloves or bandages as he starts on the bag. Slowly at first, hard and controlled, until the hits grow sloppy and desperate. They’re soon accompanied by sobs that sting his throat and tears which blur his vision of the splitting skin and bruising. He’s already exhausted from the fight and the fact that he’s been up for nearly 20 straight hours now, but exhausted is good. Exhausted is what he needs. Alec hits and kicks until he doesn’t think he’ll even have the energy to make it back up to his room and debates collapsing right there on the mat until he hears a voice at the door.

“Alec?” It’s Jace. Of course it is.

“Hey,” Alec huffs, reaching out to lean against the wall. He wipes the moisture from his face, not sure if it’s tears or sweat… probably both, before carefully shoving his hands into his pockets so Jace can’t see the extent of the damage. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question.” His parabatai’s voice is suspicious. Alec knows Jace isn’t stupid, but Alec also knows that Jace isn’t about to come at him while he’s like this, either.

Alec glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s 4:00 in the morning. How late did stay up making the calls? How long had he been in this room?

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” he lies, quick to cover for either. Jace relaxes under the false belief that Alec at least got some rest, and some of the tension in Alec’s shoulders eases as well. As long as Jace doesn’t push this, as long as he doesn’t have to snap and get defensive, it’s fine for now. “But I’m actually pretty worn out now, so I’m going to shower and see if I can sneak another hour or two before morning patrol.”

Jace nods, watching as Alec wipes the bag down with a black towel he carries specifically so it won’t show the blood stains. Alec frowns lightly as he uses it - he didn’t plan on doing this, it just happened. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself, ignoring the fact that he subconsciously grabbed the black towel he hadn’t used in months, the one reserved for this very scenario.

Just a convenient coincidence, he tells himself, because he’s better now. This isn’t him any more, though the throbbing pain in his hands says otherwise, especially as he slides the ring back on over a swollen finger. He does nothing about it through the rest of the day’s training and missions, and only reluctantly allows Magnus to heal the worst of it when he goes over that night, the lie that the injury is fresh from patrol sliding past his lips with terrifying ease.

--- --- ---

“Jace, you’ll head the team canvassing the north end of the city. I’ve got the south. Everyone grab your weapons and get ready to roll out in ten.”

The group of Shadowhunters in front of him disperses, breaking off into their teams to strategize and pick the best weapons for this particular strain of demon infestation. It’s nothing more than a bitter warlock summoning nests of lesser demons to make their lives miserable, chaos for chaos’ sake, but it’s spread far enough that it takes half the institute to split up and cover the ground needed before things get out of hand.

Alec already has his bow and arrows in hand, and so he lingers in the Ops Center waiting until it’s time to go. He watches as everyone leaves except one person - Underhill stays behind, not going to the weapons room with everyone else straight away.

“Something wrong?” Alec asks. They’re on good terms - friends, Alec would go so far as to label them, though he hasn’t had enough of them to say for certain. But he doesn’t like the anxious look on Underhill’s face just then.

“May I be honest with you for a minute, Sir?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “If you’re calling me ‘Sir’ this can’t be good. You can always be honest with me, you know that.” “Right. In that case - I think you should sit this one out.” Underhill says, coming right out with it. His eyes flicker across Alec’s face, no doubt taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes, before dropping to where his hands rest at his sides with the slightest tremble from the amount of coffee he drank that morning to compensate for the lack of sleep he got the night before.

“And why would I do that?” Alec asks, growing immediately defensive, a flash of his eyes daring Underhill to say he’s unfit for duty.

“Because you didn’t come in from last night’s patrol until 3 am, and then you woke up at 5:30 to go out with the morning patrol at 6. And you tagged along with Nightshade’s group to handle that single rogue werewolf after lunch-”

“What are you, keeping tabs on me?”

“I’m Head of Security, Alec. I’d be a shit one if I didn’t keep tabs on who comes and goes, and that includes you. Tell me the last mission you dispatched without going along?” The challenge in Underhill’s tone isn’t unwarranted after Alec’s initial defensiveness but it still rubs Alec the wrong way.

“Just because I’m the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean I have to live behind a desk,” Alec deflects, willing Underhill to drop the topic. He begins to fidget with the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth between his fingers without realizing.

“Just because you’re the Head of the Institute doesn’t mean you have to be there to personally protect every Shadowhunter you send out. We all know the risks. What happened last week--”

“This isn’t about that.” Alec cuts him off, believing the words that leave his lips about as much as Underhill appears to.

“It is. You’re torturing yourself over this, Alec. You need to rest.” Underhill looks like he’s about to say much more than just that, except the first of Alec’s squad comes back from the weapons room before he can.

“Ready, Sir?” The Shadowhunter questions, and Alec nods.

“What I need,” Alec says to Underhill, ending this conversation in no uncertain terms. “Is to go lead my team. If you’ll excuse me.”

He doesn’t look back, grabbing his stele to activate his stamina and endurance runes right off the bat - well aware that this isn’t the first time that day he’s used them, and positive it wouldn’t be the last.

--- --- ---

The following weeks draw on in a similar fashion. Alec spends longer hours at the Institute. He appears to be fine on the surface but that’s just because of the care he puts into keeping up appearances - gloves cover the bruising on his hands, long sleeves hide the marks from where his bow snaps back to sting his arm during practice and field work. He tells himself it’s because he’s too busy to stop and heal himself, that he’ll get to it later, except he never does.

That’s the same excuse he makes for eating, too. Always on the go, he tells Magnus in the morning as he skips breakfast to catch the morning patrol that he’ll eat at the Institute. Once he’s at the Institute he swears he’ll grab something on his way home from patrol. At some point of the day he’ll grab something to get through the day - a banana, a muffin, a mostly stale pretzel from a cart along the street - but if asked he’d be hard pressed to recall the last full meal he sat down to.

Or the last time he sat down at all.

He chalks it up to being busy and forgetting, nothing more. It isn’t a big deal.

He’s wrapping up a report to head back to Magnus’ for the night when Izzy stops him at the door to his office. “Want to grab dinner? I’m famished after a day of scouring the sewers.”

“Sorry, I’m heading over to Magnus’. I’ll eat there.”

Izzy sighs. “Fine. Guess I’ll brave the cafeteria on my own.”

Alec laughs, shooing her away so he can finish getting ready. It’s about an hour later when he finally makes it to Magnus’, greeting his husband with a long, lingering kiss before collapsing onto the sofa.

“Please say you’re up for a night of cuddling and terrible reality television?” Alec half-suggests, half begs.

“Whatever you want, darling,” Magnus agrees easily, though a small frown catches on his face. “Are you hungry? I can cook some dinner first.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, settling into the sofa.

“Did you eat at the Institute?” Magnus prys, an eyebrow arched. Alec knows he should admit that he hadn’t, he’s pretty sure he grabbed a hotdog from a stand near the park that afternoon… or was that yesterday?... and a voice in the back of his head reminds him how much he loves Magnus’ cooking. But he’s tired. And he doesn’t have much of an appetite lately. He’s too exhausted to be hungry just then, and all he wants is to have Magnus wrap his arms around him for the evening. Is that so much to ask?

“Yeah,” he says, figuring it’s easier than explaining all of that. “I already ate.”

“Alright, then.” Magnus says, changing direction and heading back over to the sofa to join him where they both fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the second episode of a show they put on mostly for background noise.

And when he wakes up before the sunrise the following morning Alec slips out before breakfast without a second thought.

--- --- ---

A quick glance at the calendar shows him it’s been three weeks since the Mission Gone Wrong. He makes his third set of weekly check-in calls to the family. He doesn’t have to but he wants to, making sure they’re doing alright and asking if there’s anything they need. Anything at all he can do for them in the aftermath. He knows he can’t give them what they want, but he can do the next best thing. He owes it to them.

Each family says the same thing - that they’re fine. That these things happen. That it isn’t his fault.

Except that it is. Their loved ones died following his orders, on his watch. He should’ve been there. It wasn’t their oversight that sent everything sideways, it shouldn’t have been them to pay the price for his mistake, it should’ve been--

“Alec?”

He looks up to see Magnus opening the door to his office, sliding in quickly before shutting it behind him. The look of concern on Magnus’ immediately softened features is the first sign that something is wrong. It’s only when Magnus approaches him slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe away something from his cheek, that Alec realizes he was crying. “What are you doing here?” Alec asks, clearing his throat and forcing his lips to turn up at the corners.

“Checking in on my husband who was due home for dinner two hours ago,” Magnus states, but he doesn't sound mad about it, instead taking Alec’s hand to lead him away from the desk and over to the sofa for them to both sit down on. “Talk to me.”

Alec sighs. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, really.” His hands rest on his lap, thumb nail picking idly at an already split patch of skin on the side of his left hand, and both of their eyes fall on it at once. Alec snaps his hands back to his sides.

“Alec, please. Talk to me.” When Alec remains resolutely silent Magnus speaks again instead. “Then how about if I talk? Because I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be. I told you, I’m fine-” Alec starts again, but this time Magnus cuts him off.

“I think you really believe that, which is what worries me the most. You haven’t let yourself rest long enough see what the rest of us have.”

“The rest of you?” Alec asks, frowning.

“Maryse noticed you were losing a lot of weight lately, which is when Isabelle and I pieced together that you haven’t been eating anywhere. Or sleeping much. Or resting at all between missions. I should’ve realized when you kept coming home hurt--”

“No, this isn’t… you shouldn’t have noticed anything. I didn’t notice what I was doing, how the hell could you have?” Alec knows that isn’t entirely true, but he caught himself in moments, in bits and pieces of the whole. To hear it all thrown together like that is jarring, even for him.

Magnus doesn’t sound upset, and it’s the only thing that encourages Alec to lift his gaze up from where it rests stubbornly on his lap. “I noticed it before, when I didn’t have my magic… just little things here and there, and I thought maybe it was just a one-time thing so I let it go. But ever since that mission you’ve been getting worse, and… I don’t know how to help you besides forcing you to acknowledge it. I know you don’t want to but I can’t just let you go on like this.”

Alec nods. “I’m sorry I worried you, Magnus, I-”

“Don’t apologize. That isn’t--” Magnus sighs in frustration. “I don’t know how to help without making you defensive. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“I don’t want to push you away, either” Alec agrees, realizing that’s exactly what he’s done. And not just to Magnus, but Jace and Izzy and the others as well. “I guess I haven’t been myself since that mission.” He knows he doesn’t have to say which mission he’s referring to.

“Or perhaps you’ve been entirely yourself since that night. Alec, you care so deeply for everyone around you. And you take your leadership position to heart - maybe more than someone who is bound to lose good men and women should. But you can’t just distract yourself and hope it goes away - and you can’t punish yourself the way that you do. Hurting yourself isn’t helping them.”

Alec knows that, on some deeper, rational level. But it doesn’t take away that it makes him feel better, at least in the moment, to hide behind the pain and self-inflicted punishment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks again, but with everything out in the open and nothing left to dance around the question seems to hold that much more weight to it. Alec can’t lie and say he’s fine again this time.

“No,” Alec admits instead. “But I can try to anyway.”

It’s a small step, but an important one. He doesn’t talk about everything that night, not even close, but it’s enough that there are fresh tears stinging his eyes when he finishes and Magnus portals them both home for the night, not allowing Alec anywhere near the bedroom until after he eats a full meal. He gets a text from Jace (You weren’t in your office when I came to look for you. Good. If you’re late tomorrow that’s even better. Get some rest, man.) and, when he winces sliding into bed, reluctantly asks Magnus if he wouldn’t mind healing a few cuts from a demon’s claw he didn’t iratze away in time. Magnus agrees with unchecked enthusiasm.

They’re all little things but they feel so monumental. And maybe, Alec starts to realize, it doesn’t always have to be all-or-nothing. He doesn’t have to flip a switch from ‘not okay’ to ‘totally okay’, and that’s, well, okay. As long as he’s trying.

As long as he’s letting people catch him when he starts to slip.

Because he isn’t alone in this, not by a long-shot; so long as he has Magnus to catch him Alec knows he never has to be afraid of falling.

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #jace herondale #andrew underhill #isabelle lightwood #canon-compliant alec self-harm #self-harm #SORRY THIS TOOK A LITERAL MONTH #and less to the convo itself >.>#and also sorry that I shifted the focus to the set-up way more than I meant to #but I hope you still like it!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune

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