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mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6 · 4 years

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Reckless

Warning: pregnancy scare (but not what you think).

A/N: I had this in my docs for so long, but I always felt like I didn’t do enough for him. I will probably rewrite this for myself, but I’m happy I get to share this at all. Yes, the girl is named after me, sorry?

2.7k. First person (sorry not sorry)

How could I be so reckless? I always come prepared. How did I let this slide? The thrill of being irresponsible for once maybe? Having unprotected sex is not unheard of, but I should’ve known better than doing that for a one night stand. Couldn’t rest easy with the thought of really fucking up. I need to get supplies. The morning after pill will do the trick. Fuck, but I’m in Korea, for a small vacation, and I don’t know the language well enough to go to the pharmacy.

I get a buzz on my phone.

Wonnie: There’s a new movie on Netflix that I think we should watch, come over tonight!

A sigh of relief escapes my throat. Hyungwon, my sweetheart friend I made a year ago from a previous trip. We’re close, completely platonic, and would trust each other with anything. He’s asked me about girls before and I’ve asked him about boys. This is different. I would be asking him to help translate at the pharmacy so I could get the morning after pill. Actually, this shouldn’t be a big deal, I’m making this far more dramatic than it should be. Breath.

Me: I’m coming over, but I need a favor before we watch the movie.

Wonnie: What’s the favor?

Me: Wait till I get there, I don’t want to explain over the phone.

Wonnie: Oh?

My heart is skipping beats reading these texts. Thankfully my hotel isn’t far from his dorm. I walk to his dorm, overthinking this situation. Damn, what if it’s too late? Don’t be a dumb bitch, that’s not how pregnancy works. The morning after pill is good for within seventy-two hours of unprotected sex, plus, I’m on birth control, but you never know, nothing is guaranteed. I can’t have a baby right now, I want a house first, I want to progress in my career! Never noticed how fast I was walking till I came across the dorms in record time. Must be on edge. It’s just a favor of translation, that’s all. It’s going to be ok. He loves me, platonically, and won’t judge me.

I politely knock on the door, for once, unlike my usual unannounced entry. My nails dig through the skin of my palm, leaving crescent marks, damn near bleeding. Hyungwon answers the door, expressing eagerness to see me again, even though he saw me just yesterday. He gives me a hug and I never wanted a hug more. My vision goes blurry. No, don’t cry, not in front of him. I avoid eye contact with him when he lets me go. He’s so tall, it’s not that hard to hide my face.

“Sarah?”, Hyungwon tilts his head to look for my eyes. I damp my eyes with my knuckles, alarming him. He steps out of the dorm entrance and takes me further into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?”, whispering, changing his tune to something I’m not familiar with. My throat feels like it’s engulfed with cement. Both of his hands cup my cheeks and lift my face to meet his eyes.

“Talk to me”, he stoically demands.

“Hyungwon, I fucked up”, I mumble. His alertness turned to worry.

“Did someone hurt you?”, he sharply inhales.

“No, no. I just need your help at a pharmacy”, I whimper, defending the stranger I slept with. He didn’t hurt me or anything, we were just irresponsible.

“A pharmacy?”, he blurts out, spooking me.

“I just need something over the counter and I need your help translating”, I beat around the bush.

“What do you need?”, Hyungwon confidently exclaims.

“The morning after pill”, I shrug. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. It happens.

“Let me get my shoes”, he nods. He opens the door, grabs his shoes and wallet and steps back out.

“Thank you”, I timidly thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me, Sarah, I’m happy you trust me”, he smiles while he slips on his sneakers. I wrap my arms around his waist, squeezing as tight as my gratitude. He rests his chin on my head, rubbing my back to soothe.

“Thank you for trusting me”, he whispers. I thought I felt a kiss on my head, but I could be mistaken. He escorts me to a pharmacy, thankfully there is one at the corner.

“Is this your first time taking the morning after pill?”, he breaks the silence before we head inside.

“Yes, but a friend at home has taken it before”, I giggle to hide my nerves.

“It’s ok to be nervous, Sarah”, he pulls me aside.

“I’ll be ok”, I assure him. Without any question, he nods and takes me to the pharmacist counter. The pharmacist, who is a woman thank goodness, converse with Hyungwon for a minute in Korean. There’s a second where the pharmacist asks a question and he raises his hand, limiting eye contact.

“Have you had unprotected sex in the past seventy-two hours?”, Hyungwon translates a question for me. I nod.

“Are you on birth control or on other forms of contraception?”, he continues. I nod.

“Do you know that this isn’t a form of birth control?”, he adds to the list of questions. Once again, I nod. The pharmacist scans and bags the little box. I pull out my wallet from my purse, but Hyungwon pulls out his wallet first, beating me from paying.

“Hyungwon”, I nudge his arm.

“I said it was with me, so I claim responsibility”, he chuckles. That son of a bitch lied to a complete stranger for my sake. The pharmacist gives Hyungwon the instructions for the pill and wishes us a good day. We leave the pharmacy, relieved on how smooth that went. I turn to the direction of his dorm, but he takes me on another course.

“Just take it with water I assume?”, I wonder, attempting to grab the bag from him.

“Yes”, he notices and extends his arm for me not to reach. He always teases me on my height, comparing me to miniature objects or foods.We often refer to each other as string bean and the pea.

“You didn’t have to claim responsibility for this”, I pout.

“I know I didn’t”, he smirks.

“So, if this doesn’t work, you will still take responsibility?”, I joke.

“I will”, he blatantly admits.

“Hyungwon”, I gasp.

“You’re my friend, but I would take care of you. You know my brothers love you and would be happy for you to stay”, he continues. I nearly choke on my spit. Did I hear him correctly?

“First, you claim responsibility for my hypothetical child, then you say you would take care of me, and now you’re saying you want me to stay?”, I damn near hyperventilate. He abruptly stops.

“You said it yourself, it’s hypothetical. Wouldn’t you want to stay?”, he turns timid.

“Stay in Korea with you and the boys?”, I am touched by the consideration.

“Stay with me”, he struggles to speak. Hearing those three words from him makes me disassociate from the world around me. I hear nothing, I can see nothing, but his worrisome face, waiting for me to reply.

“I’m thinking about it”, I confess. Would I be willing to give up my life in the states to go here? How would I even know if I could live here? I’d need to learn more Korean, find a job, everything else I need to get done before I could even consider it. Dammit, but just hearing him say “stay with me” could be a factor of me saying fuck it.

The smile on his face happens to be one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen lately. It’s comfort some, sweet, and contagious.

“I’m getting you a treat”, he puts his arm around me. He swiftly takes me to a convenient store and buys me a coke and instant ramen. We cook the ramen at the store and take a seat at a nearby bench. He pulls out the little box and reads the back.

“Do you really think you could be pregnant?”, he wonders.

“I’ve been on birth control since high school, but you never know”, I sigh.

“Who was the guy?”, Hyungwon goes back to being timid.

“Just a one night stand, he’s not important”, I assure him.

“It wasn’t that good, huh?”, he teases. I burst out laughing. I love this part of our friendship, we can say shit like this to each other.

“Without giving any details, yes, it wasn’t the best”, I bashfully eat my ramen.

“That’s a shame”, he nudges my arm.

“Oh, bite me, it was just an experience, it wasn’t like I’m marrying the guy”, I scoff.

“You deserve better sex than that”, he shamelessly sips his soda.

“Damn right I do. If I do end up being pregnant, I’d hate to live with the memory of how it happened”, I roll my eyes. Hyungwon stares intensely at the box, obviously thinking about something.

“What’s on your mind?”, I tap on his ramen bowl to get his attention.

“Remembering how precious you were when your nephew was born”, he sighs. Really? That was months ago and I only remember sending him a couple of photos of me holding him.

“How was I precious?”, I wonder skeptically.

“The look you had holding him. Your sister sent me a video of you rocking him when he was still in the hospital, but she told me not to tell you”, he confesses.

“Oh no, don’t tell me I look good holding a baby, I already heard the speech from my dad”, I groan.

“You just looked really happy”, he explains before opening the box. He punches out the little pill with his thumb and places it in my hand.

“I need some growing up to do before I have any babies”, I confess.

“What do you mean?”, he finishes up his ramen.

“Not only do I need to have a good living situation, but I should also have financial stability and health stability before I should ever consider having a baby”, I explain.

“My offer still stands. I could take care of you, even without a baby”, he progressively gets more confident. The addition to his offer, “even without a baby”, makes me want to curl in a ball. This boy deserves a queen who will treasure him as much as I do, but how could that girl be me?

“And I appreciate that, Hyungwon, but you need to realize I don’t necessarily need to be taken care of”, I avoid eye contact. I’ve never been the damsel and I’d be damned if I start being one.

“But you’ll have the option”, he shrugs. I take the pill and swallow it with a sip of my coke.

“Why would you want to take care of me anyways?”, I slowly finish my ramen.

“Because you deserve a break. You work your ass off for everything you do and it’s exhausting you”, he rubs his hands together.

“That’s why I’m on vacation”, I shrug.

“Just to go back to work at a place that doesn’t appreciate what you bring to them. I know you, you won’t stop them from mistreating you”, he continues.

“You want me to stay so I won’t have to stress about work”, I realize.

“You won’t have to worry about the asshole”, he mentions. He’s referring to my bully of a co worker who is taking advantage of our boss’s willingness to help.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about them while I’m on vacation”, I mumble.

“That’s my point. You have to wait till you’re on vacation in order to destress. That place is killing you”, he groans.

“I’ll think about it, Hyungwon”, I inhale.

“I will. I’ll think about staying”, I admit.

“Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself”, he advises. He grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. Why do I love how this feels? This friendship is platonic, I just admire how comfortable I am with this physical contact. We sit there for a minute, looking at our hands. Noticing how small my hands are compared to his.

“Let’s go watch that movie”, I break the comfortable silence.

We go throw out our trash and head back to the dorms. The boys welcome me with hugs. Getting to see these faces everyday doesn’t sound half bad. Seeing how happy they are to see me is making me overwhelmed. Should I stay and leave my troubles in the states? Would it be wrong of me to consider it? The boys started to notice my anxious behavior and got frantic on asking me questions. “Are you ok?”, “do you need some water”, “you can talk to us”, etcetera. The more questions I got, the more choked up I am. I want to tell them I’m ok, but I’m not. Hyungwon takes me to his room. He wraps a fuzzy blanket around me and embraces me like the little burrito that I am.

“I’ll get you some water. If you want to shower, you know where my clothes are”, he whispers before leaving the room. He knows me well enough to know that my routine of feeling better after something shitty happens is taking a shower. Maybe a shower is what I need.

So, I go to the bathroom outside of his bedroom and hop in the shower. A shower is definitely what I need. Our conversation of him taking care of me revolves in my brain like a broken record enough for me to finally cry. I didn’t want to look weak, I didn’t want to look needy. I’m not to him. He sees me as a woman who has had enough. He listened to me bitch and groan about my life in the states, long enough for him to want to change it. Fuck, it’s like he proposed to me, he just wants me to stay in Korea. I sit in the shower, letting the hot water sprinkle on me while I map out my thoughts.

I’ll be able to see him more than once a year. Hell, I’ll be able to see all of the good and the bad of him first hand, instead of over the phone. I’m getting all flustered just thinking about it. I’ll be there to comfort them during their tough nights at work. Yes, living with seven men doesn’t seem optimal for an individual woman’s sanity, but it won’t be far different than my living situation from college. Am I going to do this? Sleep on it tonight and see.

Out of the shower, I wrap myself in the towel and slip on one of his t-shirts. Thank goodness I’m tiny, his shirt is almost like a dress to me. I take a whiff of the collar. Fresh, clean cotton.

Hm, I wonder where he went? We were supposed to watch a movie. I check my phone, nothing. I plop on his bed and wrap myself in the fuzzy blanket. I think I gifted him this last Christmas.

Needless to say, I soon pass out.

The dream I have is unbelievable! Starting off with nothing out of the usual, Hyungwon and I lay next to each other on his bed, whatever. He scoots down to rest his head on my boobs, something he has never done. I knew it was a dream when he started kissing my chest. Felt so real, I wouldn’t be surprised if I squirmed in real life. I didn’t fight it. I was putty in this dream. He moved up to kiss my lips and I knew I was in danger. He hovers above me, but leaves too much space between. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him straight down. His hands grip the crook of my knees to keep my legs up while he rolls his hips against me, still fully clothed. One moan from my mouth and I woke up.

I realize what happened and I scream in the pillow I was sleeping on. I just had a naughty dream of my friend! I want to hide, I want to vomit, I want to scream. I never saw him like that before, so why now! Never have we exchanged any interest in that!

There’s a knock on the door and I nearly fall off the bed. Hyungwon peaks his head in.

“Sarah?”, he wonders.

“Hyungwon!”, I cheerfully welcome, hiding my internal panic. He smiles at my adjusted mood.

“Feeling any better?”, he sweetly asks before handing me a glass of water.

“A lot better”, I pant before gulping the water, avoiding eye contact.

#monsta x #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x hyungwon

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 3 years

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hear my stolen lullabies

chapter five of the peter losing wendy series

*inspired by Taylor Swift’s Folklore*

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Original Character (Liz Walker)

Warnings: mentions of parent death and suicide, drug use, emotional/verbal abuse, yelling, PLEASE proceed with caution, smoking

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: Twice, Liz finds solace at the Chateau during a difficult time.

March 13, 2019

Fiddling with her earring, Liz stared down at her feet as her mother rambled on. Her mother wasn’t exactly screaming, but she was definitely yelling. About how Liz needed to help out more around the house, about how she shouldn’t abandon her mother like her sisters had, about how there was nothing nice left about life. To say it was less than uplifting was an understatement. Liz was beginning to taste blood as she gnawed on her lower lip. After a couple years dealing with her mother’s rage, or her teary outbursts, she had gotten used to tuning it out. Or, at least, trying to. Sometimes, though, it was too loud, too painful, too overwhelming.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me, Elizabeth!” Ruth Walker exclaimed, hands at her sides in exaggeration. “Why can’t you just comfort me? That’s what I need!”

“Comfort you, mom?!” Liz yelled back, finally looking up and tilting her head at her mother. “Jesus, I’ve been comforting you everyday since dad died! Every single fucking day!”

“Excuse me?” Ruth asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m the mother, and you’re the child! You don’t swear at me!”

Scoffing slightly, Liz shook her head. With her mother staring back at her, brown eyes furious and dark, brows furrowed, Liz couldn’t stomach her anger. As much as she tried to stamp it down, she usually ended with her own tirade creeping up her throat. And the worst part was, she was always wondering if she would one day end up screaming at her own daughter. Full of hypocrisy and bitterness, her life lived entirely different than she wanted. Ruth Walker wasn’t to blame for the way things had turned out, and that Liz scared more than she cared to admit. Her gut churned with anxiety and adrenaline, and she continued despite her better judgement.

“If I’m the child, Mom, why am I the one sleeping in your bed to help you with your nightmares? Why am I the one picking up the milk and the eggs and the bread? And spending every minute of every damn day worrying about you ending up exactly like Dad?” she wagered, pulling out the big guns.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew there was no use. They fought about the same things a thousand times over, and neither of them ever changed a bit. But at least letting off some steam might help in the short-term. Liz’s voice was getting louder, and her face redder, as she stood across from her mother in the dingy kitchen. All Liz had wanted was to get a snack to celebrate finishing her essay. Instead, it was an ambush over the leftovers.

“I lost my husband! My life is...my future is ruined!” Ruth screamed, crying through her words.

She knew how insensitive it was, but Liz rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. “Jesus, I know! You think I don’t know that? Your life isn’t ruined, Mom! You’re not the one who died!”

“Sometimes it feels like it,” her mother said, still angry but beginning to deflate. Her energy was waning.

Liz scoffed, feeling completely impatient. Each time they reached this point in the conversation, when her mother would begin to wallow and struggle through her words, Liz would have to sigh, and apologize, and suggest her mother finally go to therapy. The island’s pharmacist, who had once been a therapist, had offered to help the family in the wake of Liz’s father’s suicide. Out of all five Walker women, only Liz had taken him up on the offer. Though she’d only been able to handle about one session a month, Liz was still going. And she knew it helped. But her mother refused to help herself.

“Yeah, well, sometimes it seems like it, too,” Liz muttered, so utterly frustrated she found her filter (which was not particularly strong to begin with) to be totally gone.

Her mother swallowed thickly, but didn’t say a word in response. She only gaped.

Feeling her stomach flip once again, whether due to general anxiety or disgust with herself she didn’t know, Liz turned around and looked out the kitchen window. Bracing herself with her palms on the sink, she looked at the ring stand on the windowsill. On it, her mother’s diamond engagement ring. She had to avert her eyes from it. Before, the ring had been precious, always on her mother’s finger. But Ruth had taken it off after hearing of her husband’s death, and it had sat on the windowsill ever since. Ruth valued it now about as much as a piece of gravel. Liz uttered a harsh, humorless chuckle.

“What an asshole. It wouldn’t be like this if he was still here,” Liz said. “I hate him.”

Ruth’s jaw clenched as Liz turned back to her. “Don’t talk about your father like that!”

“Stop defending him! He fucking lied to us! He was supposed to be there for us...a-and take c-care of us!” Liz argued. “And then he just left! Real fathers don’t do that! At least not the ones who loved their kids!”

“Fuck you!” her mother screamed in response.

Liz recoiled, grey eyes darkening to storms. She gave a thin smile, devoid of joy, and then began to push past her mother. “Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”

She grabbed her bag and tugged on her shoes, then rushed out the front door in the direction of her bike. Ruth stood motionless in the kitchen, watching through the screen door as her daughter rode away. The evening was clouded over and gloomy, the air just beginning to warm with spring. But an involuntary tremble rolled through Ruth’s body as though it were winter. And, when her daughter was gone, she let out a sob. Then, she collapsed in on herself and began to weep.

. . .

A violent shiver made goosebumps rise on Liz’s skin as she finally made it to the Chateau, but her cheeks were flushed hot with adrenaline. The daylight was nearly gone, the sky a cold purple-pink, as she leaned her bike up against the tree out front. The air was filled with spring freshness, but it was chilly. The gray cardigan she wore was proving to be a lifesaver. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stomped up and onto the front porch. She could smell the familiar scent of burnt toast (a telltale sign JJ had tried to cook something, which never ended well) as she approached. And she stopped in her tracks when she saw JJ in the hammock, scrolling absently through his phone. He was freshly showered, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, hair damp. He looked up when her footsteps halted, eyebrows raised and expectant.

“Hey, red. What’s going on?” he asked, not quite concerned, but certainly not indifferent either.

It was Thursday night, and everyone was busy. Sarah and John B were out getting dinner somewhere on the Figure Eight. Pope was working on scholarship applications. Kie was doing a shift at The Wreck. JJ himself had only gotten off of work an hour earlier, sore from an afternoon spent mowing Kook lawns. Liz had texted in their group chat saying she had a big paper to write, which would probably take her until the sun rose the next morning.

Liz blew out a long breath, feeling the tense energy begin to leave her system. She didn’t feel like crying, though. Not exactly. Instead, she felt used up. Trying her hardest wasn’t working. Wringing her hands together, she felt how dry her skin was. She’d been washing her hands too much, using scalding water, despite the harshness of the early spring cold. The breeze was still parched and unyielding. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The habits came and went, ones she felt like needed to be done or else the world would end. They had existed before her father’s death, and she had always been what her mother called ‘a nervous little girl,’ but things had definitely gotten worse in the past couple of years.

“I just…” she began tiredly. Pausing, she sighed and took a seat on the couch, facing him. “I got in a f-fight with my mom.”

“Oh,” he said plainly, nodding. And she could tell he understood. He’d spent probably countless hours listening to her vent about her family’s issues. Just as she had spent hours hearing about JJ’s father. They had developed a pretty symbiotic system. “What was it about?”

She ran a hand over her face, narrowly avoiding her eyes, the makeup from the school day she had yet to wash off. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know. The same shit, I guess. I told her...it seemed like she was dead now too.”

JJ hummed, nodding as he furrowed his brows. He put his phone down on the floor next to the hammock, forgotten. He waited for her to continue.

“I mean...I guess I meant it. I know that...I know her worst fears came true. I know that. But fuck,” she said, her knee bobbing up and down. The fingers of one hand drummed against her thigh. “I’m just so sick of all this. This would all be so much easier if he had just like...gotten into a car accident or had a brain aneurysm or something.”

He noticed her fidgeting, and he didn’t know whether it was because she was still so keyed up from the fight or if she was just cold. “Probably,” he agreed quietly.

She barely cast him a glance before she continued. “I mean, what was the point in having the funeral, and saying goodbye and all that bullshit, if we were still gonna fight about him and think about him every damn day? It’s like...everything is different except for that one thing. He’s the dead one and he’s like...the only thing left.”

Shaking her head at herself, not even understanding her own words, she clenched her jaw. Looking out into the yard, she could vaguely see the chickens walking around behind the wire of the coop. The chipped red paint of her bike shone dully in the glow of the sunset. Above the bike, the tire swing Big John had put up years earlier still swung, weathered with age. Liz wondered if John B ever felt like she did. Home was still home, but it would also never be home again. Her house felt more like a mausoleum to her than anything else. The life she had lived before was never coming back.

“She kick you out again?” JJ asked.

“Not really,” Liz said. “But I probably shouldn’t go back tonight. I said ‘fuck you’ to her. Like, literally.”

JJ raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I know,” she said, reading his expression. “But only because she said it to me first. I don’t think I’m ready for round two yet. I’ll take the pullout or something.”

“You want something to take the edge off?” JJ asked, taking his weed pen from his breast pocket and holding it out to her.

She waved her hand dismissively and shook her head again. “No thanks. I just...Jesus I hate this.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, she got up and slipped through the screen door, into the Chateau. JJ wasn’t surprised a minute later when she reemerged with a battered acoustic guitar in her hands. It had been her father’s in his teen years, and she had been playing since before JJ even met her, when the instrument’s body dwarfed her own and her child’s hands could hardly fit around the neck. She didn’t practice everyday or anything, but could still play songs around the campfire or when the restless energy invaded her body and she needed an outlet for it. Without another word, she began softly strumming out a folk song JJ could almost recognize, but couldn’t remember the name of.

“How was your day?” she asked after a moment, eyes not even on the guitar as she played. It had become a distraction, rather than a passion, since her father had died. Playing it would always be linked with him in her mind. Sometimes, it made her angry that he had ruined yet another thing from the grave. But sometimes, she could tolerate the memories enough to enjoy it again.

“You mean since you saw me like four hours ago?” JJ asked, smirking lightly. Most days, John B drove them both home in the Twinkie, along with Pope.

She nodded, smiling just a little. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s been really exciting.”

“Oh, yeah,” JJ said emphatically. “Honestly, it was a pretty life-changing afternoon.”

“Enlighten me,” Liz said, tilting her head at him.

“Okay, let’s see. I went to the Eight to mow the Westerfields’ lawn. But their kid wouldn’t quit trying to help, so I had to make the lawn mower noises while he used his toy one, and he tired out eventually. Added like two extra hours,” JJ said.

Smiling fondly, Liz nodded for him to continue. A light breeze passed by, blowing her bangs away from her face.

“He’s pretty cute, though. And his mom let me in the house to wash up this time. I got this sick utility tool from the garage when she wasn’t looking,” he said, grin growing with excitement. From the same pocket which housed his pen, he produced a shiny red utility tool, complete with a knife, a screwdriver, and a bottle opener.

She laughed. “What the fuck do you need that for, Maybank?”

“Remember on New Year’s when we couldn’t find the corkscrew so you had to open that wine with a screw and a hammer?”

“One of my proudest moments.”

“Well, next time, we’ll have an extra,” JJ said, putting the tool back. “And I gotta say, I think we should add that house to our list.”

“Really? It’s the yellowish one with the hedges in the front, right?” Liz asked, still plucking at her guitar strings.

JJ nodded.

Since they were kids, they had been considering which houses to move into when they went full Kook. The ‘list’ had never been written down, instead existing as more of a living document in both their minds. There were a few properties on the Eight that were serious contenders, known by the families that lived in them: the Westerfields, the Kitteridges, even the Camerons. Liz was always coming back to the Petries’ place, with the cobblestone path and the tiny pond in the backyard. JJ was partial to the old McKinnon place, with the pristine lawn and the well-kempt dock out back.

“The inside is kickass,” JJ continued. “Like, a TV in every room.”

“Okay, it’s officially added,” Liz said with finality and a little smile.

Before she could continue, she saw JJ yawn into his fist. She noticed the tired glaze in his blue eyes and felt a little bit guilty. She had come over after a long day and bombarded him with all her family shit. She wanted to reciprocate, ask about how things were with his dad and why he hadn’t been back home for at least a week, but she bit her tongue. After so many years knowing JJ, she had learned that he wasn’t going to talk about his family until he wanted to.

She began to play “Polly,” not really singing but humming lowly along with the tune. JJ listened, rocking the hammock slightly. They shared a love for Kurt Cobain, and he always liked it when she played Nirvana for him. Even if he was more partial to the screamo electric songs than their acoustic numbers. As Liz expected, JJ was struggling to keep his eyes open by the time she finished.

“You falling asleep, sunshine?” she asked softly, putting her guitar aside. She would have to make sure she placed it back in the corner of the Chateau’s living room when they went to turn in for the night.

“No,” he said, clearing his throat and blinking harshly a couple times. “Are you kidding? It’s only like eight.”

She shrugged. “You can rest if you want to, JJ. It’s just me.”

“You cold?” he asked, eyes lingering on her hands. They were still a bit shaky, even after she played guitar. Usually, that was enough to make the angry trembling subside.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Answer the question.”

With a stubborn sigh, she relented. “I mean, a little bit.”

He rolled his eyes. She was always trying to put on a brave face, even over something as small as being cold. Even in front of him. “Yeah, a ‘little bit.’ Okay. C’mon, tough girl, you can steal some of my body heat.”

She snorted a laugh as he opened his arms and gestured for her to come lay down with him. “Okay.”

Her cheeks warmed marginally, but he didn’t mention it if he noticed she was blushing. They were touchy with each other. All the Pogues were. But she and JJ had always been a bit more. Lately, it was getting under her skin, in a good way or a bad way she didn’t know. Each time she felt herself crushing, she reminded herself of the perfect, toned Tourons JJ always brought home after a Kegger. She reminded herself that they had known each other forever, and she shouldn’t ruin anything over a silly, fleeting feeling. Recently, though, there hadn’t been as many girls taken home. And there had been lingering looks and moments between the two of them. But Liz figured she was only imagining it. Otherwise, what was it? The whole thing was too confusing to manage.

But she was cold and he was tired. She didn’t feel up to navigating her thoughts on the subject, so she pushed them out of her mind. And one of the comfiest quilts ever to exist was draped over the back of the couch, too tempting to resist. She grabbed it and then kicked off her shoes before she went over to the hammock. She plopped down next to him, taking a moment to cover the two of them with the blanket and settle in. He winced slightly as her elbow grazed his ribcage.

“Sorry, sunshine. Are you okay?” she asked, instantly concerned, noticing as he hissed in quiet pain.

“Oh, yeah, red,” he said, nodding. “Just got a little too sloppy at the Boneyard last weekend. I fell down on the damn dock. Totally knocked the wind out of me.”

“Do you want me to move? You need to tell me if I’m hurting you,” she continued, a hand placed softly on his chest.

“You’re not,” he replied. “I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around her and brought her head to his shoulder. It seemed to be enough to reassure her, and she let the subject drop. Or maybe she was saving it away for a discussion later on. One thing JJ had learned about Liz in knowing her: her memory was pretty damn close to photographic. She breathed out in content as she finally began to warm up, and her body relaxed.

“Did you finish your paper?” JJ asked, remembering what she should have been doing.

“Yeah. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would. There’s way too much to say about Virginia Woolf,” Liz explained, letting her legs slip between his, tangling them together. It was the closest they had been in a long time, and she could smell his Old Spice. “It actually ended up being like a page too long. I had to go back and cut it down.”

“Good job, nerd,” he teased. English was the only class she regularly got As in.

“Shut up,” she warned, looking up at him through her lashes and smirking a bit. “Just go to sleep, dick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said playfully. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

When he pulled back, their eyes met again. Liz didn’t think much. She could only feel what she was doing as she was doing it, a bit surprised at herself. It was like her brain short circuited, flooded with butterflies, and she could only act on instinct.

“JJ?”

“Hm?”

Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “Can we kiss?”

His eyes softened. “‘Course we can, Lizzie.”

Before she knew it, they were both leaning in. They kissed gently, slow. JJ’s lips were surprisingly soft, and he kept a small smile on his face as they separated, dimples on his cheeks. Liz’s brow crinkled. Had that really just happened? When they were both totally sober and not dreaming? She uttered a small hum, nodding.

“Huh,” she said. She had never kissed anyone before, besides Kie. Never a real kiss.

JJ uttered a chuckle. “Yeah. Huh.”

“Are you alright?” Liz asked, a smile to match his own creeping onto her face.

“Mm-hm. Are you alright?” JJ’s voice lilted with nervous, giggly apprehension.

She nodded.

Then, some sort of simple understanding passed between them, smiles still ghosting over their lips. Liz put her head back down on JJ’s shoulder, and his grip tightened on her just a touch. They fell asleep.

. . .

October 27, 2019

Again, Liz was high as a kite by late afternoon. They sat smoking on the front porch of the Chateau after the midday dress burning, laughing at the mock sincerity of the ceremony. For once, Liz was happy and giggly in the presence of Sarah Cameron. JJ grinned widely at Liz opening up a bit. John B was always quick to accuse Liz of not liking Sarah, but JJ knew it was simply that she needed time to soften. Even with all her confidence, she was still shy. She didn’t like to show herself to people until she was positive she could trust them. JJ could definitely understand that. Leaning back against the couch, he threw his arm over the backrest. Liz, sitting beside him because she knew he would hog the bowl otherwise, tensed slightly. Looking around self-consciously, she didn’t think she saw anyone reacting to her flinch. Hopefully, they hadn’t noticed. The instinct to pull away from JJ was knee jerk. With a harsh swallow, she clenched her jaw and sat back slightly, trying to lean into it.

“Yo, did you guys hear that new Billie Eilish single?” JJ asked.

“Oh, I fucking loved it,” Liz said emphatically.

John B snickered. “Well, damn, I never would have guessed.”

She flipped him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re a loser.”

“Ditto, man,” John B replied, a smug smirk on his face.

Liz scoffed through a breathy chuckle. Weed made John B a bit of a condescending asshole, though sometimes in a charming way. Each time it was a toss-up. The day was slightly warmer than the one before, but she suspected it would likely be the last day the temperature was above fifty degrees. The thought of the season ahead made her grimace slightly. It was bad to begin the winter with a death. It was very bad. And, even amidst her group of friends enjoying each others’ company, she couldn’t help but feel far away from them. Distant. Alone. Maybe it was just the after-effects of her grandmother’s funeral the day before. She didn’t know.

She took the bowl back from JJ and inhaled a long breath. She coughed slightly as she let it out, listening to the others talk about something or other, maybe what Kyle McCormick had said to the calculus teacher the day before. She stared out into the front yard. When she was high, all her senses were amplified. The colors seemed brighter somehow. They seemed to move on their own, alive. The only thing close to the sensation that Liz could think of was reading Virginia Woolf. And even then, it was just the character who was experiencing it. Being mesmerized, really mesmerized, wasn’t an everyday thing. It felt like falling in love. She hadn’t felt it much since she and JJ broke up.

She passed the bowl, filled with grayish ashes, back to JJ. They reminded her of her father’s ashes. They’d spread them in the ocean, out on a rental boat. She’d held them in her hands, felt the smooth, sooty fragments of teeth. The thought made her shut her eyes for a second. JJ furrowed his brows, watching her as he took his own drag, trying to get the dregs of smoke from the bowl.

“You okay, Lizzie?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from the autumn chill. “I just have a headache.”

JJ frowned. He felt her forehead, then put the back of one hand to her cheek. He was relieved to feel the redness was from the chilly wind, not from fever. Every time she got sick, it was because she had been running herself ragged, not sleeping. “Hm. You’re probably still tired from yesterday. You wanna go lay down?”

Clearing her throat, ridding it from the stray smoky feeling, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll take the pullout.”

“Just take JJ’s bed again,” John B said lightly, catching snippets of the conversation.

“Is that alright?” she asked, tilting her head at JJ.

“Yeah. It’s the middle of the afternoon. I won’t be needing it for like eight more hours at least,” JJ answered, trying to pass the bowl to Pope.

Pope waved a hand at the drug paraphernalia. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t smoked, Liz.”

Liz rolled her eyes as she got up from the couch. “Whatever, Doctor Spock.”

“You’re clouding your mental capacity,” Pope continued self-righteously. It didn’t annoy her as much as it once had, since she knew it came from a place of worry. After so long, she was able to shrug it off rather well.

“Good,” Liz retorted, more sincerely than Pope expected.

He shifted nervously, then turned to ask Kie something.

. . .

Slats of sunlight shone on the bed through the gaps in the blinds, making the room feel impossibly cozy. Since Liz had slept in there the night before, she had made the bed. It wasn’t really a cleanliness issue. She could have a perfectly neat bed and then not cast a second glance at the piles of books and clothes, and papers in the case of her desk. It was more that if she didn’t make her bed everyday, it made her want to wash her hands more, with hotter water. It made her want to pick off her nail polish and gnaw on her bottom lip. But she found herself feeling totally content as she laid on the bed, atop the fuzzy throw and the smooth comforter, piles stacked properly behind her. She rested her head on her crossed arms, the sleeve of her worn cardigan soft against her cheek. Her sock feet were raised in the air, one calf crossed over the other. She thought about the morning, when she had woken up with JJ’s arm draped over her. It had been the first time she had anxiously made the bed in JJ’s room in a long time. It had been so familiar that it broke her heart a bit. It broke her heart more when JJ had excitedly begun preparing for the dress burning almost immediately after waking up.

Over breakfast, he had enthusiastically gone over everyone’s duties to put together the “funeral for Lizzie’s funeral dress.” She smiled at him gratefully, but her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t reconcile the JJ who took care of her after tragedy with the one she had encountered on the last night in August. She thought about the feel of his hand on her waist, dancing with her in the Stoner’s Grove at a party, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. They hadn't kissed, so they could explain it away if anyone asked. That had been before the invisible change had taken place. And she could feel it again where his hand had rested earlier in the day, when they had stood around a bonfire in the backyard, while the remains of her dress smoked in the air and then floated away. She had stared into the orangey flames, so strangely pure against the pristine blue of the October sky, until her eyes were hot and dry. JJ had placed an affectionate hand on her waist for only a moment, giving her hip a comforting squeeze. And she simply didn’t know what to do with it.

But she decided to clear the thoughts of him from her head, running her fingers delicately over the soft throw blanket. Touch, she thought to herself. Touch was her favorite of the senses when she was high. Her feet were up near the head of the bed, her head at the bottom. She had often laid in the same position, feet up in the air, as a little girl. She and John B had made a habit of going out to the edge of the dock and looking down at their reflections in the water, sometimes with their heads leaning completely over the green murkiness below. It was the kind of childhood foolishness you could only see the error in with hindsight. She let herself get lost in the music which played from the bluetooth speaker on the desk. She had turned it down to a medium volume, hoping she could get one of her mellower playlists to lull her to sleep. But the sunshine was too beautiful to miss. She let it warm her back as she laid there, listening to the sound of The 1975’s “Be My Mistake.” Sometimes, it was too sad for her to stomach. When high, though, she could stand it enough to listen. She barely even welled up this time.

The screen door slammed shut, and she could hear the rest of the Pogues reenter the house, likely to finish up whatever homework or enjoy the remnants of the Sunday afternoon. The sound of JJ’s boots approached, and Liz had to prepare herself for a moment before he came in. She didn’t know what instinct she would follow: the softening of her heart or the guarding of her gaze.

He opened the door with a warm creak, smirking when he saw she was still awake, from the way her feet swung side-to-side gently. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied huskily.

He shut the door behind him and bent over to unlace his boots. He tugged them off and discarded them in the corner absently before he came to sit down next to her on the bed.

“I was just coming to get my earth science homework, but I guess you don’t need quiet like I thought.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, lost in the song.

“You still wanna go to sleep?” he asked.

She may have had a pretty high tolerance, but she had smoked more of the good shit, and it was likely heightened in effect when she was so sleep-deprived. He was surely the more sober one of the two. The gut instinct to hold her hair back, rub circles on her skin, guide her sweetly through her intoxication, overtook him as it had so many times in the past. But he wasn’t her boyfriend, as she had pointed out one morning after he had fought a Touron. And it wasn’t his job to take care of her, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“No,” she said softly. Her words came out in a pensive whisper. “I’m just having a nice time listening to the music.”

He snorted a laugh. “You’re so adorable.”

“You can’t say shit like that to me, JJ,” she said immediately, though still in that same gentle tone. Raising her head a bit, she met his slightly glassy, reddish gaze with her own to match.

He shut his mouth and averted his eyes, nodding. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” she said. “You just can’t.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Then after a moment, she asked: “Do you still wanna hang out?”

He smiled. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Alright,” she said, putting her head back down.

JJ got more comfortable, back resting against the wall behind the bed, getting ready to listen to her playlist. Liz’s playlists were, in fact, pretty infamous amongst their group of friends. When she couldn’t afford presents for birthdays or holidays, she made them playlists.

“So, since you’re in earth science, tell me again why they declassified Pluto as a planet?” she asked. “I mean, I know it doesn’t have emotions or anything, but imagine being a planet and having your planet status taken away from you. I feel bad for it, y’know?”

JJ laughed.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank oc fanfiction #outer banks x oc #outer banks oc fanfiction #outer banks au #outer banks au fanfiction #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #sarah cameron

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erisbaek · 3 years

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Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read. Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle

Word Count: 63k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending Warnings: Smut, Smoking Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

Word Count: 16.7k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

Word Count: 48k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer

Word Count: 36.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance Relationship Warnings: Smut Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

Word Count: 9.1k Rating: Not Rated Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered)

Word Count: 66.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

Word Count: 33.3k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

Word Count: 50.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

Word Count: 40.5k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

Word Count: 29.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

Word Count: 26.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky Warnings: Blood and Gore Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

Word Count: 39.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

Word Count: 51.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

Word Count: 58.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics

Word Count: 14.6k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery Warnings: Smut Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

Word Count: 26.6k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

Word Count: 18.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold

Word Count: 21.6k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke

Word Count: 95.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

Word Count: 31k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Drug Use Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me

Word Count: 58.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve Warnings: Smut, Blood Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us

Word Count: 23.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: N/A Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Word Count: 38.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky Warnings: Minor Smut Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

Word Count: 76.4k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

Word Count: 42.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

Word Count: 89.5k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar Daddy!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

Word Count: 100.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

Word Count: 21.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

Word Count: 67.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

Word Count: 46.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CATWS Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

Word Count: 14.5k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS Warnings: None Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home

Word Count: 78.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

Word Count: 29.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU Warnings: Smut, Gore Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last)

Word Count: 53.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

Word Count: 36.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU Warning: Smut Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #starbucks #wintershield #steve rogers #james barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #captain america #marvel

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dreaming-of-assclass · 4 years

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Group 4 girls are hanging out and Kanzaki gives her friends a bit of a surprise. Or, in the words of Kayano, “A fucking heart attack.”

“Kayano-san!” Okuda squealed as she opened her door, coming face to face with the actress. A bright smile adorned her face as she gently pulled her inside. “I missed you so much!”

Kayano grinned and embraced her tightly, burying her face into Okuda’s dark locks which smelled faintly of honey. “I missed you way more! I’m so glad we could hang out today.”

It was the first time in a few months where Kayano had a relatively free schedule. Since she’d gone back into the acting business, her daily life spun around filming sets, manuscripts, orders from directors, constant coffee to stay alive...

Doing anything to keep her mind off the things that truly hurt...like Aguri...and Korosensei...

She was aware it wasn’t healthy. Her therapist had mentioned that enough times to her, and she came to the conclusion herself. But acting was a big piece of who she was, and she’d be damned if she ever let it go.

She wasn’t even sure if she could.

Okuda released her, stepping back with a shy smile as she adjusted her glasses. “I hope the train ride was okay? I’m sorry, I know my house is pretty far...”

Kayano waved her off. “No, no, it was totally fine! I just listened to music and got to relax. And my mask did a good job of hiding my face.” She smirked, giving a light tug to her pink “kawaii-bear” themed mask.

The chemist’s face lit up again. “I’m so glad! And oh, come in!” She immediately scooted to the side of the doorway, allowing space for Kayano to enter.

Kayano pulled off her sneakers and gently placed them on the shoe rack, her lime green striped socks now visible. She tugged off the mask with a content sigh as Okuda shut the door, grateful for some privacy. She felt a relief from the constant anxiety of being caught by fans. She shoved her mask into her bag and politely followed Okuda through the corridor of the house.

It was average-sized, which she could tell from the outside. Okuda’s family was reasonably middle-class, given that they were pharmacists. Still, they seemed to settle for a smaller house as their 3-resident home.

“Kanzaki-san texted me, saying that she’s running a bit late,” Kayano heard Okuda say, but her attention was fixed on her surroundings.

The hallway was lined with shiny, polished wooding. It almost looked as if it had been barely walked on.

More than that, though, a slight scent of anti-septics filled the air. It was subtle and faint, yet easily reached Kayano’s nose by the third step she took.

Overall, so far, Okuda’s house did not feel like a cozy, welcoming abode. It was such a sharp contrast to her as a person, a sweetheart.

Okuda glanced over at her, a spark of recognition in her eyes. As if she could read Kayano’s mind, she spoke, “I know...it feels very lonely here.”

Oh, shit. “Okuda-san?”

The bespectacled girl sighed as she led them to a sitting room, near what Kayano presumed to be the kitchen. They both sat on the couch, close to one another. “No one is really here, except me most of the time. And even that’s changed since 3-E...and making so many friends.” She ducked her head slightly after the last word, her face reddening.

Kayano felt her chest tighten.

She reached over and gently took Okuda’s hand, clasping it in her own. “It’s okay, Okuda-san. I know exactly how you feel. My house was always empty too, just me and my sister. And then...she...”

Dammit, why does this keep happening? Kayano hated that she could barely speak about Aguri without her voice breaking, her throat closing, feeling like she was about to shatter-

Before she could utter another word, Okuda gently pulled her hand out of her grip and embraced the girl in another hug. A different hug. One that was warm, comforting, and so filled with compassion, and yet it still made Kayano feel like crying.

“My loneliness is nothing compared to Kayano-san’s,” Okuda whispered. “I’m sorry. Please don’t feel like you’re still alone anymore though. We all love you.”

Kayano wiped her eyes with a smile, pulling back gently. “Thanks, Okuda-san. The same goes double for you, you know.”

She playfully pinched Okuda’s cheeks, earning a sharp squeal. “We need our adorable mad scientist.”

Okuda slapped her hands away with a huff. “And we need our evil pudding-loving actress.”

Kayano laughed, stopping when she felt a faint grumble from her stomach. “Ooh, speaking of food...”

Okuda chuckled, an apologetic smile on her lips. “Sorry, we don’t have pudding...but tons of healthy snacks?”

“Oh, that’s way better. I need to be watching my diet now actually.”

Okuda rolled her eyes fondly, rising and walking into the kitchen, her guest following behind like a lost puppy. “Please, you’ll always stay a toothpick.”

“Actually I’m on my way to becoming a muscular toothpick.”

“Oh?”

Kayano shrugged. “I have my personal trainer Kimi to thank. But gym sessions with Terasaka also help a little.”

“Terasaka-kun? Really?”

“Yeah, the big oaf knows a ton about fitness and muscle-building,” Kayano replied, pride in her tone. “Sugino and Kataoka, too! They’ve all been great help.”

Okuda smiled, setting down the various bowls she’d been preparing onto one tray. “That’s great to hear!”

A bowl of apple slices, a platter of crackers and cheese, a bowl of strawberries accompanied by two tiny forks, and some clementines were spread onto the tray. She carried it into the living room and the two girls happily resumed their conversation while munching on snacks.

About twenty minutes later, the bowls and plates were all basically empty. Kayano was laying upside down, her feet dangling off the top of the couch as her hair fell against the floor. She was clutching her stomach. “I think I ate too fast...”

Okuda was laying on her side over by the opposite end of the sofa, arms wrapped around her abdomen. “Ugh, me too...”

“I wonder what’s taking Kanzaki-san so long...” she muttered.

Kayano sat up properly, flipping herself up from her position. “Me too...I hope she’s okay.” A jolt of anxiety went through her at all the possible issues Kanzaki could be going through.

Just as the words left her mouth, the doorbell rang, its sound echoing through the foyer.

Both girls exchanged dumbfounded glances for a moment before jumping up. “She’s here!”

They dashed through the hallway as safely as they could, since both of them were clad in socks. Okuda unlocked and flung the door open as fast as she could.

“Kanzaki-!”

They cut themselves off almost instantly, their jaws dropping at the sight before them. Kayano felt her brain momentarily numb.

And then she was back to reality and found her voice again.

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

Kanzaki laughed good-naturedly, one hand resting on her bag that slung from her shoulder. The other hand was running through her silky locks...which were no longer their usual raven color.

No, her hair was now a shade of stormy blue. All over, not just tips or ombre.

“Wow! Kanzaki-san, it looks beautiful!” Okuda exclaimed.

Kanzaki beamed and hugged her, leaning over quite a bit to do so since she was wearing healed boots. “Thank you, Okuda-san. It’s so good to see you again!”

The two of them began chatting, still holding each other as Kayano was still somewhat in shock.

She knew of Kanzaki’s 2nd year phase, yes... But hearing about it was entirely different from seeing it, especially so suddenly.

Kanzaki glanced back at her with a grin and waved her over. “Kayano-san, I haven’t seen you in forever and you still haven’t said hi!” A fake, over-exaggerated pout was present in her tone.

Kayano arched a brow. “Sorry, but I’m not sure I know you,” she replied dryly, in true acting fashion yet she wrapped her arms around Kanzaki regardless.

This earned a laugh from the gamer girl. Kanzaki hugged her back warmly, one hand cupping the back of Kayano’s head. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Kayano repeated, a smile breaking out on her face. “I love it so goddamn much!”

She really did. The icy shade of blue that reminded her of swirling sea thunderstorms looked gorgeous on Kanzaki. It suited her complexion, and totally complimented the shade of chestnut in her eyes.

“Do your parents know...?”

Kanzaki shrugged, a flash of defiance in her eyes. “No, and I don’t really care what they think. It’s my hair, my appearance, my image. They don’t matter.”

“Spoken like a true badass.” Kayano smirked.

She gently touched a strand of her hair, the faint blue now between her fingers. “It looks amazing,” she said softly, stepping back as they both released each other.

Kanzaki shyly smiled, her cheeks slightly pink. “Thank you.”

Kayano scoffed. “But I won’t lie and say you didn’t give me a fucking heart attack for a second there.”

Kanzaki burst into laughter again with Okuda.

“Kayano-san!” She admonished half-heartedly.

“What? You know what I’m saying! Last time we saw Kanzaki-san, she was dressed like a church girl with her black hair up in a chignon. And now, she’s-” Kayano gestured to her. “-this!”

Kanzaki’s laughter increased as she doubled over. “A church girl-”

Okuda joined her, a hand clutching her stomach as she giggled. “Kayano-san, stop making me laugh.”

Kayano flipped her hair dramatically. “Can’t help it. I’m just so funny.”

Kanzaki’s laughter died down as she playfully shoved Kayano. “Aaaaaand it’s over. Not anymore.”

“You’re mean!” Kayano pouted. A thought occurred to her. “Wait, weren’t you brining pudding?”

Kanzaki looked puzzled. “I thought you had some, Okuda-san?”

Okuda face-palmed. “Oh no.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Kayano wailed as over-the-top as she could.

“It’s fine!” Okuda tried to mediate. “We can just get some more at the convenience store a couple blocks away.”

“But I just got here,” Kanzaki whined. “I haven’t even taken my shoes off.”

Kayano grabbed her upper arm. “All the more reason you should come. You’re already ready to leave!”

She groaned. “Alright, fine, you maniac.” She shot a dull glare at Kayano, who responded with a bright grin. “I’ll pay, too.”

“Yay!” The other two cheered.

Okuda locked the door while the other two waited for her at the front steps. “Sooo~” Kayano cooed. “Tell me all the high school drama going in for you girls.”

Kanzaki mimicked her tone. “Only if you tell me all the drama going on in the acting world~”

“Yeah, tell us everything, Kayano-san~” Okuda sang, joining them.

The three girls set out walking, arms linked. The sun was just starting to set as it approached evening time, a golden glow casted above everything. The air was only slightly chill, a refresher to all of them.

“Oh, where do I even start? Okay, so the main lead in the swan movie? The guy I told you about? He actually ended up being a...”

#my girl kanzaki gives ZERO fucks haha #assclass #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #writing #yukiko kanzaki #akari yukimura #kaede kayano #manami okuda #group 4

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

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Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

@lilyharvord sorry for the long waiting but life got in the way, as always. I hope you like this chapter and stay tuned for the fourth (which, I swear, won’t take that long)

Words: 2335

Wren wasn’t feeling any better. On hearing this, Miss Samos and Lady Haven repeated three or four times how terrible it was to have a bad cold, and how much they themselves hated being sick, but after that, they thought of it no more, and their indifference toward their guest when they weren’t directly around her confirmed to Mare all her previous feelings toward the party, including the satisfaction with Mr. Samos’ ways, since his anxiety for Wren was evident. On her side, Mare received very little attention from everyone: the ladies were attracted to the General like flies with honey, and Lucas Samos, beside whom Mare sat for lunch, wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and when he discovered that Mare preferred simple dishes to elaborate ones, he had nothing more to add until the end of the meal, when Mare apologized and immediately returned to Wren. As soon as the door closed behind her back, Miss Samos began to speak ill of her manners, which were declared very bad, a mixture of pride and impertinence.

“She has neither style, nor taste or beauty,” added Lady Haven. “In short, she has nothing that does her honour but to be an excellent walker. I’ll never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked like a savage.”

“I just managed to contain myself!” exclaimed the other. “What nonsense to go all that way through the mud for a simple cold. Besides, I would never have shown myself around with such sloppy, dishevelled hair.”

“Miss Barrow may not be a great conversationalist, and I guess your description may be correct,” replied the cousin, “but not only did I miss the muddy slip and the simple hairstyle, I can also say that I justify her little desire to chat, when her friend, for whom she feels a palpable affection, is in those conditions.”

“I am afraid, General, “observed Miss Samos, almost whispering, "that this adventure has somewhat shaken your admiration for her beautiful eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied, “they were enlightened by the exercise.”

A short pause followed, and it was Lady Haven who began again: “I have a lot of respect for Miss Wren, she really is one of the sweetest girls I had the pleasure to know, and with all my heart I would like for her to settle down well, but with such parents and modest kinship, I fear there’s no chance of that happening.”

"I seem to have heard you say her uncle is a scholar,” said Mr. Samos, who didn’t seem to have any objection to the words his sister and friend had addressed to Mare, but didn’t like those harsh comments towards of the other guest and wanted to end the topic quickly.

“Yes, and they have another one, who lives somewhere close to Cheapside,” replied his sister, unleashing her friend’s laughter.

“If she had enough uncles to fill all Cheapside”, exclaimed Ptolemus, who was starting to get really irritated, “that wouldn’t make her less nice.”

“But that actually diminishes her chance of marrying a man of some importance in society,” Cal replied quietly, hoping to be able to be a peacemaker now as he always did when they were children. Obviously Ptolemus didn’t like his words, and left the room in great strides, slamming the door behind him. Everything would be back to normal by tea time, he was sure, and in this way he had also managed to dispel, at least for a moment, from Evangeline’s mind the thought that he was in turn interested in one of their guests. After lingering for a while to amuse themselves at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar kinship, with a surge of tenderness, they went to her room, and stayed with her until they were called for tea. Wren was still very unwell, and Mare absolutely didn’t want to leave her until late evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and judged it correct, more than pleasant, to go downstairs. Entering the living room, she found them all playing cards and she was immediately invited to join, but suspecting they were playing hard she refused but decided to watch and listen to their conversation about Whitefire, General Calore’s estate, and his grandmother, a woman whose manners was widely praised by Miss Samos.

“It’s surprising to me,” said Mr. Samos, “ how many women have the patience to get to be so well educated as they all are; they can paint, play the piano, dance, sing and even embroider. I don’t know any who can’t do all this things, and I’m sure I’ve never heard of a woman before without being made aware of how well educated she was.”

"Your list of things commonly defined as education is all too true,” said the General. “The world is applied to many women who doesn’t deserve it and I can say it with certainty, after getting to know them better. I have to admit that, sadly, in my entire range of acquaintances, there are no more than half a dozen of really educated women.”

"Neither am I, I’m sure,” said Miss Samos. The more she knew her, the more it was evident that she was trying in every way to create bridges between her meagre personal ideas and those of the General, and Mare was ready to bet, even if she hated it, that she would be willing to trample any friendship or ideal in order to achieve her goal to marry him. If only their descriptions of what was a truly educated woman had been more alike, Mare would’ve said they were meant for each other, but their words were so diametrically opposed that she almost had to restrain herself from laughing, a task in which she was aided by the fact that General Calore described someone who was also very distant from both her, her family and her friends, a mixture of talent, good taste, elegance and commitment that didn’t even reflect the other two young ladies in the room, who began to protest so much that Lucas Samos had to impose some order on them so they could finish the game. Since the conversation had ended so bitterly, Mare left the room shortly after.

“Miss Barrow,” said Miss Samos, once the door closed, “is one of those young ladies who try to make a good impression with the opposite sex by underestimating their own, and I am convinced that with many men the thing is successful but, in my opinion, it’s a petty system, a squalid artifice.”

“No doubt,” replied Cal, who was the main recipient of this remark, “there is some meanness in all the tricks that ladies sometimes deign to use to seduce. Anything that has an affinity for cunning is despicable.”

Not completely satisfied with that answer, Evangeline dropped the subject. How dare he throw digs at her when he knew perfectly well what had pushed her this far? Not even Ptolemus intervened, and Elane gave her a sideways glance, to make sure she wasn’t making one of her scenes. It was probably the possibility that Miss Barrow or Miss Skonos might hear it that stopped her, but that didn’t prevented her, that very evening, from consoling herself in the privacy of her room with the one that everyone would forever call her dear friend. As always after Elane’s loving care, all tension was smoothed out, and the following morning, when Mare had the pleasure of being able to give a fairly positive response to the request for information she had received very early in the morning from Mr. Samos through a waitress, it was proposed that a note could be sent to Mrs Skonos to ask her to visit her daughter and see for herself the situation, inviting her to take Mrs Barrow and the younger Miss Barrow with her too. If she had found Wren visibly in danger, Mrs. Skonos would certainly have despaired, but felt satisfied to see that the disease didn’t cause any alarm, she didn’t wish she would recover immediately, given that a healing would probably have taken her out of the Hall of the Sun. Therefore, she didn’t want to listen to her daughter, whom proposed to be brought home, and also the pharmacist, who had almost reached the house at the same time, thought it was definitely inadvisable. After spending some time with Wren, the four women were invited by Miss Samos to join her and her brother in the breakfast room, where he welcomed them hoping that Mrs. Skonos hadn’t found her daughter worse than what she had expected, but his hopes were partly dashed, although the woman later took care to compliment them profusely both on their kindness and on the wonderful estate they had rented.

“I hope you’re not going to leave us too quickly, even if the lease is short,” said Mrs. Barrow, who hadn’t yet uttered a word except for the customary greetings.

“Whatever I do, I do it quickly,” he replied, “and so if I had to decide to leave the Hall, I would probably leave in five minutes. For the moment, however, I consider it a stable accommodation.”

"That’s exactly what I would’ve imagined from you,” Mare said.

“I didn’t know,” Miss Samos interjected, “you were a student of characters. ”

“It must be a fun study,” noted her cousin, who had recently joined them along with General Calore.

“Yes, but the intricate characters are the funniest. At least they have that advantage,” she replied, casting a quick glance at Tiberias, who, feeling drawn into question, reminded her that the countryside wasn’t exactly the best testing ground for studies like that.

“In a countryside area one moves within a restricted and uniform social environment.”

“But people change so much that there is always something new to observe,” replied Mare, always ready to change his mind about his prejudices on simple people. If she had addressed any other gentleman like that, her mother would’ve reminded her of her place in the world but since it was General Calore, she was happy to take her daughter’s side, although not in the best of ways, to the point that her interlocutor, after giving her a long puzzled look, walked away in silence and even Lucas Samos found himself embarrassed.

“You have completely misunderstood my friend: he only meant that in the countryside there certainly can’t be the same amount of people you can find in town.”

“Nobody says otherwise, but as for not frequenting so many people in these parts, I think there are few places richer in neighbours. All I know is that we know twenty-four families.”

Nothing but the regard towards Mare allowed Lucas to keep himself serious. The cousin was less delicate, and gave her brother a very expressive smile. Mare, in order to divert her mother’s thoughts, asked her if Diana Farley had been visiting them since she was at the Hall.

“Yes, she came yesterday with her father, but she didn’t stop for lunch because her mother was waiting for her at home to make apple pie for her little sister’s birthday. The Farleys are really good girls, I assure you, and they are also very nice, but if they are with Wren or my daughters… they inevitably end up taking a back seat. That’s what everyone says, I don’t just trust my partiality.”

“When Wren was only fifteen,” Lady Skonos added, “there was a gentleman at my sister’s so in love with her that my brother-in-law was sure he would’ve declared himself before we could leave. Instead nothing came of it. Maybe he thought that she was too young. However, he wrote some verses about her, and they were very pretty.”

“And so his love ended,” Mare said impatiently. “There were more than one, I guess, that ended up like this. I often ask myself who was the first to discover the effectiveness of poem in chasing love away!”

Obviously the General didn’t share her idea, and was more than happy to point this out, interrupting his conversation with Miss Samos. Mare too had the answer ready, and their quarrel was followed by a long silence, which forced Mrs Skonos to thank the homeowner again for the kindness showed to her daughter, and Mrs Barrow to apologize for the inconvenience caused by Mare, who still didn’t have the slightest intention of leaving. Mr. Samos gave a spontaneous and courteous reply, and also forced his sister to behave in the same way, although she didn’t play her part gracefully enough not to allow Mare to notice that hers was all fiction. The two older women, however, seemed to be content and when Mrs Skonos ordered the carriage, Gisa stepped forward as if on command and asked Mr. Samos when he intended to give the ball his cousin had promised he would tell him about when they arrived in the countryside. Gisa was a strong and well-developed girl of fifteen, with a beautiful complexion and a cheerful expression; it was her mother’s favourite, whose affection had led her to make her entry into society at a very early age. She had a bursting vitality, a kind of innate self-confidence, that the officers’ attentions had turned into cheekiness, making her the perfect candidate to address Mr. Samos about a ball which, if not given, would’ve been the worst of shame on his honour, at least in her words.

"I’m perfectly ready,” he reassured her, “and when your friend has recovered, you will set the date of the party, if you please.”

Gisa looked satisfied, and began to fantasize about what other events she would be able to organize and continued to do so even when they were gone and Mare returned to Wren, leaving her and her relatives behaviour at the mercy of the two ladies and the General, who nevertheless didn’t allow himself to be persuaded to join in the criticism despite all the jokes Evangeline made about beautiful eyes.

#pride and prejudice au #p&p #marecal #ptolewren #evane #mare barrow #cal calore #ptolemus samos #wren skonos #evangeline samos #elane haven #gisa barrow #ruth barrow #diana farley #madeline farley #lucas samos #anabel lerolan

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diabolikasksandscenarios · 5 years

Text

Modern AU! Jobs for the Diaboys

Ayato: -Be the type to not really take work super seriously,is really laid-back even in the most tense of situations

-Would work as a part-time gym coach

-1. Loves exercise and 2. Boobs in sport bras

-Trains in private to become a professional basketball player

-Protein shakes are his thing for a while until he stops giving a shit and drinks and eats whatever he feels like

Laito: -Independently models for his online blog,promoting his stores products,part-time at a mens fashion store

-Flirts shamelessly with all the women who are shopping for their partners

-Takes shifts in the middle of the day, so he can relax in the evening and sleep in during the morning

-Works really fast at the counter

-Quite observant and cheerful to male customers

Kanato: -Intensely blogs and critiques lolita fashion pieces/brands

-Sometimes pushes companies in a corner to give him samples to ‘review’

-Has no male competition and receives lots of comments about how unusual it is for a man to enjoy lolita fashion from naive women

-Attempts to launch his own brand and fails

-Becomes super salty after and starts giving even stricter critiques than usual; down to little absurd things,to make himself feel better about not launching successfully.

Reiji: -Works as a part-time Pharmacist whilst studying on the side

-His thirst for knowledge somewhat holds him back from working full-time.

-He knows he could work full-time but his brain simply craves new information

-Is very professional and serious when handling scripts

-Becomes employee of the month almost every single month without fail

-A bit stiff with customer service but still somewhat engaging and understanding none the less

Shuu: -Works full-time as an ASMR Youtuber

-Tends to fall asleep in the middle of his script

-Does lots of sleeping asmr vids

-Barely uploads since he’s lazy, but still manages to be popular and well-liked within the community

-Gets interesting comments from crazed fans and their requests

-Is really lazy when creating thumbnails

Subaru: -Works full-time as a prison guard

-He’s always attentive and stern and isn’t shy to defend himself

-Tends to work overtime because he finds a sense of purpose in patrolling around the grounds at night rather than leaving himself to rot in his loud mind.

-Is always the one to tell everyone to shut up

-Sometimes gets attached to a prisoner here or there after learning their back story,but denies his ties.

-Refuses to handle life-sentence prisoners

-Sometimes tends to the garden if their is a spare moment

Ruki: -Works full-time as a book-keeper,near a small little coffee shop

-Despises when nerds craving comic books come in as he doesn’t consider them as real books,but serves them anyway; if not faster just to get them to leave

-Almost always opens and closes the store

-Gets strange looks and winks from customers that are way too young

-Enjoys giving customers his personal reviews and critiques on certain novels

Kou: -Continues to be an idol/model/actor/singer

-Would extend his reach and influence through social media and doing advertisements for various brands

-Would probably accept an invitation for a reality television show, to do with finding love or just something competitive; he’d be the one to start a lot of drama just so they’d keep him around for pay day $$$

-Attends interviews on morning shows and gives fans cute little messages like: “Keep going my kittens!” and so forth.

-Dyes his hair obnoxious and vibrant colors to stand out from the crowd

-Almost always lands a front page in the newspaper/magazine.

Yuma: -Most likely would work from home selling his vegetables and fruits and seedlings.

-Might occasionally volunteer at the community garden or at an animal shelter in his spare time for a change of pace.

-Takes way too many selfies with veggies than his social media followers care to admit

-Tracks the progress and finances of his business through a bullet journal,tends to scribble really messily.

-Manages to just get by, and sometimes sells food using his ingredients.

Azusa: -Volunteers for a variety of charities,mostly catering for animals and those with special needs and planting trees.

-Fosters kittens for a while and gets too emotionally attached to them

-Finds it mind opening realizing not all pain can be enjoyable

-Tends to take the start and end of each week off to dedicate to bonding with his furry lil children

-Thinks it’s super calming being out in nature and just giving back

-Has quite a good amount of stamina,so he plants for hours

Carla: -Works at a quiet coffee shop full-time

-Tends to wake up early so he can visit the bookstore next store before starting his shift

-Is quite skilled at handling disgruntled and unhappy customers, no matter how rude they become.

-Ties his hair up into a bun/pony-tail for hygiene purposes

-Silently gets hit on by customers all the time

Shin: -Works at a bar part-time as the bar-tender

-Has a natural knack for splitting brawls up

-Snickers under his breath at all the stupid drunk shit he hears

-Is encouraging on ‘going big or going home’

-Is quite fast at cleaning glasses than one might guess

-Sneaks a few glasses for himself when closing the bar

Kino: -Works part-time at an Arcade (w/ purikura booths~!)

-Tends to take on night shifts

-When not helping customers he can be found behind the counter occupying himself with various game apps

-Has the most fun conversing with foreigners

-Near closing time he tries his luck on a few crane games ( with a little force)

-Day dreams about going on an arcade date with a cute girl

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Watch What Happens - Chapter 1

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst

Words: 2,004

Long A/N: This story was inspired by a few things: the beautiful character of Arthur Fleck; Todd Phillips asking (on a podcast) how Arthur's life might have changed if someone had put a hand on his shoulder; and reviews in which people asked some variation of the following question: "What would a put together woman like Sophie be doing with Arthur?" (That one really gets me - everyone deserves normalcy and happiness.)

"Watch What Happens" follows the timeline of the movie, with twists on some major events, and added ones.

It's been over 10 years since I've written prose that wasn't something technical or a screenplay, so I'm rusty. I popped out the 120 page draft of this story in four weeks, and am working through the second and third drafts. I'm both terrified and excited to share this with all of you!

Arthur took a long drag off his cigarette as he absorbed his counselor’s last question. The ticking clock on the wall, the fluorescent lights beating down on him, the uncomfortable closeness of the room - none were helping him come up with an answer. What did she want to hear? He seemed to get the same response no matter what he said. “Work is okay. I had a sign-spinning job this week.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Counselor Kane asked.

The memory of the beating he endured made him anxious. Stress built in his torso. His abdominal muscles twitched as he tensed. He already dreaded the fit he knew was coming. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to hold back. Laughter tore its way through his throat, piercing his own ears. Reaching across his chest, he attempted to stifle the guffaws. He’d been told before that changing positions was supposed to help. It didn’t seem to this time.

Eventually, each gale became quieter, transforming into coughing, then a few quiet chokes as he regained a semblance of control. Had he enjoyed being beaten up by a bunch of teenagers and yelled at by passersby? Not really. “It was fine.”

He watched as she made notes, studying the stacks of papers and files on her desk. He knew he wasn’t giving her a lot to work with this week. But he was exhausted. Starting counseling eight months earlier hadn’t been his idea. After being released from Arkham, he’d been mandated to go to therapy once a week. It was hard to be enthusiastic about it. Most of the time he didn’t think it helped. He was still as isolated, as anonymous as before. The negative thoughts continued.

But he kept trying.

After a few moments of silence, he asked a question of his own. “Is it just me, or is it getting crazier out there?” He met her look for the first time this session.

A grim expression came across her face as she gave a nod. “It is certainly tense. People are upset. They’re struggling, looking for work. These are tough times.” She continued writing. “How about you? Have you been keeping up with your journal?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered meekly.

“Great. Did you bring it with you?”

He stiffened, lips puffing at his cigarette. A smile came across his face but didn’t reach his eyes. If he’d thought she wanted to read his journal, he would have left it at home. He’d assumed it would be private.

She didn’t seem impressed. “Arthur, last time I asked you to bring your journal with you for these appointments. Can I see it?”

He squeezed his hands together and ran them over his thighs, trying to convince them to stop bouncing. He was certain she wasn’t going to let this go. Might as well get this over with. A slight chuckle escaped him as he turned to reach into his jacket pocket.

“I’ve been using it as a - as a journal. But also a joke diary?” Reluctantly, he handed the folded, spiral notebook over. “Funny thoughts or observations.” He looked down, then, knowing what she’d find in there. “I think I told you I’m pursuing a career in stand-up comedy.”

She flipped through the tattered pages. “No you didn’t,” she said.

He paused. She didn’t remember that? “I think I did.” He noticed she hadn’t flinched once. Maybe the pornography he had pasted in there wasn’t so bad.

Kane stopped and glanced at him before reading aloud. “’I just hope my death makes more sense than my life.’”

An eyebrow raised as he huffed, a corner of his mouth lifting. She’d wanted him to write how he felt, right? That about summed it up.

She seemed concerned, but merely closed the journal and gave it back to him. “How does it feel to have to come here? Does it help to have someone to talk to?”

Arthur furrowed his brow as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. “I think I felt better when I was locked up in the hospital,” he said.

“And have you thought more about why you were locked up?”

He did his best to recall, though his memory of that time was fragmented. White walls, a straitjacket, no shoelaces. He remembered a window in the door of the observation room and ramming his head into it. “Who knows…” he sighed. He watched as Kane started packing up his file. “I was wondering if you could ask the doctor to increase my medication.”

She took out a list and read it over. “Arthur, you’re on seven different medications.” She raised her shoulders slightly. “Surely they must be doing something.

His eyes softened, letting down his guard for a moment. “I just don’t want to feel so bad anymore.”

~~~~~

Arthur stood in line at the pharmacy, hand playing with the keys in his pocket. He browsed the nearby stand with office supplies. More pens would be good - he tended to go through ink quickly with all the scribbles in his journal - but he doubted he had enough change for both them and his co-pays. They’d have to be picked up later.

Once he was up, he stepped to the laminate counter. “Hi, my name’s Arthur Fleck. I have three prescriptions to pick-up?” He handed his Gothamcare card to the pharmacist, who gave it a glance. The medications were $2.50 each. After paying, he said a quick “Thank you.” The pharmacist turned his attention to the next person.

Arthur exited the pharmacy, starting the fifteen minute trek home. As he walked, he thought about what he would do that evening. His back was still sore from the kicks it’d received after being jumped. A hot shower would help soothe the aches, but he wasn’t sure when he could fit it in.

He was already arriving home later than usual because of work. The oven would have to be preheated, as he could prepare his mother’s nightly TV dinner. Watching “Live with Murray Franklin” was a must. And he wanted to work on his comedy routine. He knew he was getting close to having a really good set. The shower could wait until morning.

He trudged up the concrete stairs near his building. Every step became heavier as he ascended. Why should you be wary of stairs? They’re always up to something! When a new joke came to him like that, he always felt a little better. He’d have to repeat it to himself until he had a chance to write it down.

After entering his apartment complex, he shuffled to the mail room and checked the box labeled “P. Fleck.” It was as empty as the run-down lobby he stood in. He went into the rickety elevator and repeatedly pressed the button for the eighth floor.

As soon as he entered the one-bedroom apartment, his mother called to him. “Happy, did you check the mail before you came up?”

Wincing, he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook. “Yeah, mom. Nothing.” He entered the dimly illuminated galley kitchen and went to the freezer. The meal he grabbed was the first one he saw, and he started the oven. While it pre-heated, he examined his new prescription bottles. He popped one open and took a tablet. Then he finally got a chance to write down the joke he’d come up with.

When the meal was done he took it into his mother’s, Penny’s, softly lit bedroom. He’d made it nice and neat for her, on a tray with cutlery and a napkin. She was sitting up in the double-bed against the headboard, waiting. He set the tray down over her legs and carefully cut the meatloaf for her.

She watched his movements. “He must not be getting my letters,” she said.

This again. She’d been going on and on about the Waynes for years. Annoyingly, her fixation had become more intense over the past few months. “It’s Thomas Wayne, mom. He’s a busy man.”

Penny shook her head dismissively. “Please. I worked for that family for years. The least he could do is write back.”

Arthur pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss this tonight. “Here. Don’t get all worked up. Eat.” Before sitting on the chair next to the vanity, he handed her the fork and patted her cheek. “You need to eat,” he said.

He could see his mother pointing at him with her fork out of the corner of his eye. “You need to eat. Look at how skinny you are,” she said. He ignored her concern, smoothing his brown, mid-length hair back and releasing a breath.

When he turned to her, she appeared content. “He’ll make a great mayor,” she said confidently. “Everybody says so.”

He studied her before answering. “Oh yeah?” he said, his voice adopting a playful tone. “Everybody who? Who do you talk to?”

She motioned towards the TV. “Well, everybody on the news.” Her voice became adamant. “He’s the only one who can save this city. He owes it to us.”

Arthur looked at the floor, raising his eyebrows.

At the sound of a certain familiar theme emanating from the television, Penny patted the side of the bed. “Come sit. It’s starting.”

He smiled. “Yay, Murray.” Reaching behind him, he turned off the table lamp. He hurried to his usual spot, the left side of the bed, and took off his shoes. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, quickly becoming lost in the show. He’d been watching “Live! With Murray Franklin” for as long as he could remember. The colors of the curtain, every note the band played, the beats between Murray’s jokes - he knew it all.

The excited energy of the audience surrounded him. His lungs were filled with the studio air conditioning. It took all his strength not to jump with excitement as his idol entered the stage. He tried to settle for a standing ovation - it didn’t work. He couldn’t stop himself from shouting, “I love you, Murray!”

The house lights went up and Murray squinted into the crowd. Arthur looked around before realizing Murray was talking directly to him. He’d picked him out of the crowd. The spotlight was on him in a flash. Arthur introduced himself, stammering when he said he lived with his mother. When the audience laughed at him, Murray came to his defense. Of course he had - he knew what it was like to struggle.

At first, when Murray called him down to join him on stage, Arthur resisted. But as the audience demand grew stronger, he had no choice but to relent. A wide smile crossed his face as he descended the stairs to stand shoulder to shoulder with Murray. Murray’s hand was warm when he took Arthur’s and lifted his arm in a cheer.

“That was great, Arthur! I loved hearing what you had to say. You made my day.” Murray told him.

Arthur’s voice was quiet when he answered in disbelief. “Thanks, Murray.”

Murray gestured with his arm towards the studio. “You see all this? The lights, the show, the audience, all that stuff.” He held Arthur square in his gaze, hand on his shoulder. “I’d give it all up in a heartbeat to have a kid like you.”

A lump formed in Arthur’s throat. He couldn’t speak. Murray understood in an instant and pulled him in for a hug. Relief washed over Arthur as he relaxed into the embrace.

The warmth Arthur felt went away, and he found himself back in his shabby apartment. He looked over his shoulder to his mother, who was spooning mashed potatoes into her mouth. As much as he loved Penny, as much as he enjoyed watching Murray with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was all his life was going to be. When he thought of the likely answer, he closed his eyes, feeling emptier than ever.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x female reader #watchwhathappens

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 42

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

Despite the suffocating humidity and sweltering heat, it's a relief to get out of the hotel. She'd spent the last three days confined within the four walls of their room, trying desperately to keep her mind off of not only what happened at McMann's house, but the terrifying consequences that followed. Plagued by incessant worry about the safety and well being of the kids, waiting on pins and needless for the random and all to brief updates that Ovi would send throughout the day. And now the torturous minutes and hours before the IRA would get back to them with their decision. The fates of the McMann kids...and their own...in the hands of the very kind of people that Tyler went into battle against while on the job. It's a nauseating turn of events; having to put all of your faith and hope into individuals known world wide for the brutal acts. To trust them to save lives instead of ending them.

Tanis sticks tight to her side. It was the one and only stipulation that she'd had to agree to for a short couple hours of freedom; the other woman could not leave her side, and under no circumstances was she to wander off on her own. Not even if it was only a couple feet away. There was no telling who was a threat now; with McMann and the Buckmans working together, their reach is incredibly long and they have endless resources and people at their disposal. If she wanted to get outside and attempt to function as a 'normal' member of society, she had to have protection at all times. Tanis is pleasant enough; talkative, articulate, educated on a wide variety of subjects that helps keep conversation lively and fresh. Tall and athletically built; broad shoulders and fit, well toned muscles, her blond hair cropped short to her head in a stylish and modern pixie, dazzling green eyes that are constantly taking in the people and the action around them. She doesn't carry herself with an unabashed cockiness that most Marines do; her posture is loose instead of rigid, she smiles often, she doesn't puff out of her chest in an attempt to intimate anyone that so as much looks in their direction. To the untrained eyed, they'd appear as if they were just two friends out for a day on the town; chatting and laughing, bags of shopping on their arms. But Esme knew the truth. Which the woman is really there. And she knows that there's gun tucked into a holster on Tanis' right hip, hidden under the baggy white t-shirt she sports. This is a job. Nothing more, nothing less. Once it's over, they'll each go back to their separate lives. It's the way things have to be; you don't fraternize with the client. All ties cut the moment the job is finished and money has exchanged hands. It's easier that way. No bonds formed, no feelings hurt.

Ovi is an exception to the rule. He'd needed further protection; he wasn't safe in Mumbai, not with his father in prison, Saju dead, and Asif's associates looking for payback. And most importantly, he'd needed a chance at a real life. He'd needed to know what it was like to part of a family. To have people that respect and love him. For far too long he'd gone through life being treated like a thing instead of a person, and it had been a difficult adjustment for him. Going from having 'handlers' and paid help to having parent figures and siblings. It had been a struggle for him to adapt; their rules were incredibly lax compared to those that had been placed upon him in Mumbai, but they were still things that were expected of him. And he'd struggled to go from the rigidly strict to the rather relaxed and casual. It wasn't just a chance of scenery, but an entirely different change of pace and a way of life. No private schools, no chauffeurs taking him place to place. He had set curfew but was allowed to have friends; he could go to the mall, take in a movie, hang out a park. He no longer had people hovering over him and dictating his every move. And as much as he'd hated that life...his old life, it had still been hard to not be controlled in such fashion.

It had been good to talk to him that morning. He'd sounded tired, but he was happy. Secured in his ability to keep himself, Chloe and the kids safe. There was no evidence of fear or uncertainty in his voice. The trust that Tyler had placed him had been an enormous ego boost; he was confident, resolved, with no worries about who may be following them or may try to get to the kids. He would handle it. Those were his exact words. Whatever...whoever...came their way, he wasn't the least bit afraid. A stark change from the slightly immature and self conscious kid that they'd left behind almost two weeks ago. And it was the first time since Tyler had told her that he'd put Ovi in charge of their kids that she'd felt truly confident in his decision.

“Forgive me for asking this,” Tanis says, as they wander through the main shopping district; sipping smoothies and chatting like old friends. “And I hope I don't come off to personal or sounding rude.”

“I live with five males, I have been asked an obscene amount of personal questions and pretty much heard every possible rude comment under the sun in the past five and a half years,” Esme grins. “I have two four year old's that are obsessed with fart jokes and think the word 'ass' is the funniest thing they've ever heard. Do you know what that's like? That much 'boy' in one house? I mean, my husband has enough testosterone for half the planet, I swear. Never mind adding in his three mini me's and a teenage boy.”

Tanis laughs. “My parents had all girls. I'm the last of five. I thought that was hell to grow up in.”

“Oh don't get me wrong, I would take five girls over one boy any day. My girl has been a walk in the park compared to raising boys. I mean, she's full of attitude and piss and vinegar, but she's been so easy. She picked up everything so quick and she's been always so eager to learn new things. And she's obsessed with cleanliness and tidiness. But the boys? Oh my god. How do they get pee everywhere? Are they not paying attention? Are they waving it around like firehouse? How does it get on the floor, the baseboards and the wall but none in the actual toilet? Ughhh...” she shudders. “...that's why I won't clean the bathrooms anymore. That's a man's job. So gross.”

“Sounds like there's never a dull moment at your place,” Tanis grins.

“It's a zoo. I'm not even joking. It's mess and it's noise and it's utter chaos. But at the same time, it's awesome. It's our mess and our noise and our chaos. You get used to it. And you miss it when it's gone. This last week and a half has been hell. Not being under the same roof as them. Not being able to hug them and kiss them and tuck them in at night. I complain about the craziness, but I miss it. As weird as that sounds.”

“That doesn't sound weird to me. That sounds pretty normal, actually. This will all be over. This whole nightmare. And we'll get you back home. Where you belong.”

Esme gives a smile of appreciation. The words have a nice sentiment behind them, but there's still so much that has be done. So much risk involved. And she tries to push those thoughts out of her mind. Not wanting to think about what could go wrong, but what will go right. “What did you want to ask me?” she inquires, as she sips at the smoothie in her hand. It's about all she can stomach. If that. Nothing has been staying down despite the anti nausea (and baby safe) medication a local pharmacist had recommended her. It's always been bad; fatigue and all day sickness (never mind just the morning), but it's never been this bad.

“How the hell did you ever wind up with Mark? Because he's a bit of a...”

“Douche canoe?”

“Well I was going to say prick, but douche canoe works too. I mean, he's my boss and I have to respect while on the clock and in his presence, but what the fuck is his issue? He's a total ass wipe.”

“And this is him being friendly and diplomatic if you can believe that. This is his good and charming side. Wait until you get to meet the rest of him. It's a real treat. To say the least.”

“How did you ever end up with him? You seem so...I don't know...normal...”

Esme laughs. “Don't ever let Tyler hear you say. He can tell you that I am far from normal.”

“Mark is just so...Mark...and you're just so...you. You're just both so different from one another. He treats everyone like shit and you seem so welcoming and friendly with people. I find it hard to believe that someone like you would even get mixed up with such a complete and utter tool.”

“He talked a good game when I first met him. I hadn't been in the Corps for very long. I didn't have much life experience under my belt. And suddenly this older guy showing interest in me. He was mature, charming, he had a very authoritative way about him that was strangely appealing. He was my commanding officer, so there was that whole rush you get when you know you're going against the rules and there will be hell to pay if you get caught. I was young. Inexperienced. And stupid. So very, very stupid.”

“Is it true he let a stewardess give him a blow job in the plane bathroom on the way back from your honeymoon?”

“Sadly, yes. That's one hundred percent true. I should have just dumped his ass when that happened. Got the marriage annulled. But he swore he'd never do anything like that again and it was just a 'one off' and he got all that kind of behaviour out of his system. So I believed him. Stupid little naive girl that I was.”

“So it got worse instead of better?”

'Not right away. It got better. And it stayed that way for about eight months and then he just went off the deep end. He'd gotten back from Iraq and was having a hard time with some of the things he saw and heard over there. Which, don't get me wrong. I get. That shit fucks with your head. There's even things now that still bother me. Images and sounds and smells that come back out of nowhere. But he went right off the reservation. It's like something inside him snapped and he couldn't hold back his true self any longer. I should have left right away...the first time he ever hit me...but...” she shrugs.

“People think it's so easy. That it's as simple as just packing your things and walking out. That it's not. Nothing is ever that simple.”

“You've been through it too?”

Tanis nods. “My ex husband was the exact same. He was a narcissist. And a sociopath. A violent one. I stayed for three years. I lost everything because of him. My friends, my family. They didn't understand why I didn't just walk away. I tried explaining to them that it wasn't that easy, but they didn't get it.”

“People don't if they haven't lived through it themselves,” Esme reasons. “I used to be one of those people. Who used to judge the women for not leaving. Then I became one of those women. It woke me the hell up right quick, let me tell you. I put up with his shit for two and a half years. And in a way, I'm still putting up with that. That crap never leaves you. It stays in the back of your mind. All the horrible things they've said. All the times they've told you that weren't good enough or that no one could ever possibly love you because of how messed up you are, or that someone could never love you the way they do. You think you've gotten over it, but you haven't. It's always there.”

“And then when you do meet someone and are happy, all those come out and work against you. And you listen to them. And you believe them.”

“Exactly. It's a vicious circle. It's a horrible existence. And it takes someone really strong and really patient to help you deal with all of that.”

“You found that though,” Tanis smile. “Someone like that. You're one of the lucky ones.”

“I have put that man through hell. Or my brain has, I should say. I have snapped and said some horrible, horrible shit to him. I think about some of the things I've said to him and I want to crawl into a hole and die. Tyler has his issues, don't get me wrong. He is far from perfect. But he sure as hell doesn't deserve the things I've said to him. But he sticks around. Shockingly.”

“Because he knows that's not you saying the things you say. He knows it's what you've been through. And he loves you. Anyone can see that. It really burns Mark's ass you know,” Tanis chuckles. “Seeing the two of you together. The one the two of you look at one another. He can not handle it.”

“That's because he's such a miserable fuck, he expects everyone else to be too. Can you believe my own mother stayed friends with him? Knowing what he'd put me through? How messed up is that? She loves Mark but hates Tyler because he's the one took me away from my home and forced me stay in Australia and blah blah blah. That is her sole reasoning for not liking him. Yet Mark is a total sleaze ball who gets off on hitting women and she loves him. “

“She sounds just as messed up as Mark.”

“You think? She's a real piece of work. And now Nik is hooked with him? Of all people that I thought would be smarter than that, it's her. She is far from being a stupid woman. Or a weak one. Yet she chooses to be with him? Ughhh...” Esme shudders dramatically. “...if that isn't enough to make me puke, I don't know what is. And believe me, I don't need any extra reasons to puke. Do you have kids?”

“No. But I haven't completely ruled them out. I'm in a good place with my life right now. I've met a pretty good guy. We're taking things slow, but...”

“Zak, right?”

“How'd you...?”

“It's all in the way he looks at you. The way he watches you when you talk. That little smile he has when you walk into the room. It must be a guy thing. Maybe they're better at expressing it with their faces than they are with their words. Tyler gets so embarrassed if someone brings up 'the look'. And he tries denying its mere existence, but it's there. Whether he wants to admit it or not. He doesn't like to talk about those things. But let me just say this, he's not always a hard ass. He's got a soft side to him, and a huge heart. But whatever you do, do not tell him I told you that. He will deny, deny, deny and I'll never hear the end of it.”

“I know Mark's my boss and I should probably watch the things I say out of respect for him, but...”

“No. Speak your mind, girl. You probably don't have anything to say about him that I haven't said a million times myself.”

“...you really traded up the second time around. Like you went from here...” she holds her hand just below her waist “....to here...” she raises her hand way above her head. “...and I totally didn't mean that to represent the difference in size, but I guess it's appropriate. You went from like grade F beef to like Triple grade A.”

“The difference is night and day. In every respect. And that's what makes thing even more screwed up. Because your brain believed everything some asshole said, so you have no idea how to even let someone love you. You're so used to being treated like garbage that when a decent guy comes along, you don't know how to deal with him. You expect the worst, get the best ,and then you don't know what to do with it.”

“So you get scared and push it away,” Tanis concludes.

“Exactly. And believe me, I pushed long and hard for a while. And he refused to budge. He just tried even harder. And believe me, there were many times he could have told me to go fuck myself and taken off and he would have had every right to do it. But he never did. He's a stubborn shit, let me tell you. Which is probably why he didn't die that day on the bridge in Dhaka. Everything has be on Tyler's terms. It's your way or his way. There is no in between. He has to be in control. I guess he figured he hadn't lost all control yet so why give up?”

Tanis smiles. “Something tells me you had something to do with it to. I mean, you stuck around for a guy you barely knew.”

“Well the sex was amazing and I wasn't ready to let that go yet. I wasn't finished using him for his body yet.”

The other woman laughs at that.

“In all honesty, I did what I dd because I wanted to. Because it felt like the right thing to do. He was in that mess because of me. Well Ovi, too. But if he hadn't have kept us around, he wouldn't have gotten out of there and not ended up as fucked up as he was. Sometimes I wonder if he regrets it. That he did decide to keep us around. If he wishes he'd listened to Nik and just left us in the street. I mean, he wouldn't have all the issues that he has now if he had have ditched us.”

“I have a feeling that he never even considered the ditching you guys part.”

“He says he didn't. That it was never an option. But I couldn't really blame him if he thought about it at least once. It's all about survival right? Self preservation? Sometimes the only person you can worry and care about is yourself.”

“It must have been hard. The aftermath. Of Dhaka.”

“It was...” she fidgets with the straw in her drink, pulling it up, pushing it back down, trying to find the appropriate words to describe exactly what it had been like. Without completely losing her grip on her own emotions. She's normally a sensitive person to begin with, but now the hormones have decided to cause havoc within her body and even the smallest of dirty looks from someone have her ready to burst into tears. Just that morning she'd had a meltdown because the mint of the hotel toothpaste was 'too strong'.

“...hard...” she says. “It was hard. To see someone like that. All the tubes and all the wires and bandages and stitches and what not. He was a mess. He should not have survived that. Even the doctors told me when they took him to surgery when we first got there that they didn't think he'd even get off the table alive. And he almost didn't. He coded three times. They said if there had been fourth, they wouldn't even have bothered to bring him back. That the lack of oxygen would have led to a catastrophic brain injury.”

It's painful to relive it. Even more painful than those moments on the bridge when she'd fought to keep him alive. The agonizingly long wait in the OR family are; that bloody and torn tactical vest clutched tightly to her chest. The one that she'd nonsensically tried to scrub clean in one of the public bathrooms because he 'might need it again'. The doom and the gloom that had been in the surgeon's voice and in all the voices of the doctors and specialists that had come and gone through his room in the ICU. Not one of them believed he would make it. The blood loss was too severe. The damage too great. He'd never be the man he was before. Maybe not even a fraction of it. And the more they tried to prepare her to say goodbye, the tighter she held on.

“And I know that sounds weird because I'd just met him and there's no way I should have ever felt that strongly about him so soon...” she continues. “...but I can't explain it. I can't explain what I felt. I just know I felt it. And I wasn't ready to let him go. We had too much to look forward to. Plans we made. We were legitimately going to work at things and see where we really stood in each others lives. If there was more to it than those five days in Dhaka. But we never got the chance. It didn't go the way we wanted it to.”

“But things worked out,” Tanis reasons. “In the long run. It might have been what you had planned, but they still worked out. Look how far you guys have come. From that day until now.”

“Yeah, he's still trying to solve everyone else's problems and getting hurt doing it.”

“I don't mean in that way. As in the job. He made it out of that hospital. Even when all logic and even science said he shouldn't. He survived that and now look. You're married, you've got amazing kids, one on the way...” she gives a smile, and pats Esme on the tummy. “...it's a great life. Even if doesn't seem that way sometimes.”

“Yeah. It is actually,” she agrees, and then smiles as she lays her own hand on her stomach. It will be a while before her body starts to visibly change. She'd been nearly twenty weeks before even the slightest bit of a bump began to show with Millie. The twins had shown earlier, obviously. And Declan had just been enormous right from the start. He was easily going to be over six feet tall by the time he hit his teen years, and probably built like a linebacker.

“Last one?” Tanis asked, nodding down at Esme's stomach.

“Oh hell yeah. This is it. I thought we were done at three. At least we agreed to stop at three. After the twins, we were done. That was it. Declan was a complete and total shock. We were actually using birth control and that kid still made his appearance. So if anything was meant to be, it's him. And then we decided why not one more , and well, it happened a lot sooner than we thought it would, but it happened.”

“I like to think things like this happen for a reason,” Tanis says. “Everything says that your Declan shouldn't be here. In the same way that doctors and science and all rational logic say hat Tyler shouldn't be here. But they both are.”

“When you put it that way, maybe I should play the lottery. With those kinds of odds running in my house,” Esme muses. “I know how lucky I am. That Tyler even survived. I saw how bad he was; the amount of blood he lost. He honestly probably should have never made it off the bridge alive. And sometimes I think it take it for granted that he did. That I take him for granted. I'm just so used to him being around that I sometimes forget how close it came to him not being around.”

“I think we're all guilty of that. Taking the people in our lives with granted. Their presence for granted.”

“Makes me feel like a shitty human when I think about it. All the times where he's annoyed the shit out of me and wish he would go away and leave me alone. What if I wished those things and it happened? What if the last words I ever said to him were awful? If I actually let him walk out the door without telling him I love him. Imagine having to spend the rest of your life with that kind of guilt?”

“It's why we can't let a day go by without telling people how we feel about them,” Tanis says. “We have to live each day with someone as if it's the last we'll ever spend with them”

****

She's startled to see him when she arrives back at the hotel; there are still two hours before his meeting with McMann and he hadn't planned on returning until after it was over. So it's a nice surprise...and a huge relief...to see him there lounging in the middle of the middle. Leaning back against the headboard with those long legs stretched out in front of him, his hand clasped at the back of his neck, his eyes closed. He doesn't respond to the sound of the door opening and closing; not a single muscle twitching throughout his body or in his face. Chest slowly rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. And she ditches her shopping bags and purse in the closet by the door and kicks off her shoes, bare feet against the soft carpet as she wanders further into the room. The mattress dipping slightly as she climbs onto it, shuffling on her knees towards him and then climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him, arms around his torso and head resting on his shoulder. She closes her own eyes; he's warm and soothing, his body hard and strong, his familiar scent still intoxicating after all these years.. And when she sighs against him he finally moves; turning his face towards hers and pressing a kiss to her forehead, both arms wrapping around her.

“Hi,” she says, voice muffled against the side of his neck.

'Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm staying in this room too,” he playfully reminds her.

“You weren't supposed to be back until later.”

“Well I came back early.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you.”

He can feel her smile against his throat. “That's a very good reason,” she declares, a places a kiss to the scar that mars his neck; the one that will forever serve as a reminder to just how close he'd come to ceasing to exist.

“The best reason,” he says, his palm moving in slow, smooth circles in the middle of her back. “Did you eat something?” He can't help himself; his protective nature is coming out in full force. It's bad enough when it's just her he's worrying about and trying to keep safe, but now there's a baby inside of her and he has twice as much to lose.

“A little bit. What your spawn will let me keep me down.”

“When we get home and we get you into a doctor you can go on that medicine you were on the last time. It helped, yeah? You didn't puke that much with Declan.”

“It was a life saver,” she confirms. “You smell good.”

“You wouldn't have said that a half an hour ago, trust me.”

“Even on your worst days you don't smell that bad. I kind of like how you smell. Even on your stinky days.”

“You smell good too...” he turns his face towards her, nose against her temple. “...strawberries?”

“Your favourite.”

“Yeah...” he grins. “...they are.”

She relaxes against him; the curves of her body soft and supple against firm muscle. She keeps her eyes closed; unable to look at that scar for too long. Normally it doesn't bother her; it serves as a daily reminder that he is still alive and she is lucky to have him. But today it hurts; it cuts deep and vicious and she can't bear it.

“Where were you when you called?” she asks. “Your cell reception sucked.”

“That's why I hung up and sent you a text message instead.”

“Where were you?”

“Just had a team meeting. With Yaz, Mark, and his guys. In an industrial park about ten minutes from town. We didn't want to take the chance that the wrong people saw us all together.”

“Makes sense.”

“Did Mark call you?”

She hears the tension in his voice, feels the way his muscles tighten, how that vein in the side of his throat begins to pulsate. “No. Why? Should he have called?”

“I thought maybe he would. To rat on me. We sort of got into a thing.”

“Yeah?” she runs her fingernails along his hair line at the nape of his neck. “Did you finally beat his ass?”

“Not as much as I would have liked to, no. I think I broke his nose though.”

“Well considering you could have broken his neck, a broken nose is pretty tame. What did you get into it about?”

“What do you think?”

“Awww baby....” she pushes her hand through his hair; letting the longer strands on top slip between her fingers. “...were you defending my honour? My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“I said some things I probably shouldn't have said. But I fucking snapped and it all just came out. He's just so fucking ignorant and smug and everyone thinks he's this great guy. Which makes me hate him even more. So I lost it. Said some shit I shouldn't have said in front of other people. About you and him.”

“I'm sure whatever you said, he had it coming. So...”

“It wasn't my place to say those things. About you. I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut. But he just pissed me so bad and...”

“Tyler...” she pulls back to look at him, holding his face in her hands. “...I don't care what you said. It's things that should have been said a long time ago, I'm sure. It's probably things he needed to hear. And if you just so happened to punch him in the face while saying those things...”

“It was an elbow, actually.”

“I'm not going to be upset at you for sticking up for me. Everything I told you about him...about all the things he did...it was all true. So I don't mind those words being out in the open now. Maybe now that someone has finally brought them up and holding him accountable for his shit, he'll straighten himself out. You know he's seeing Nik right?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“It doesn't bother you?”

“I think she can do a hell of a lot better.”

“You don't think it's weird that my ex is doing whatever with your ex?”

“She is not my ex.”

“Well maybe not an ex girlfriend, but she's an ex something.”

“Putting it that way means I have a lot of exes out there.”

“You dirty boy,” she winks at him. “No wonder you know how to do things you do. You have lot of practice under your belt. All those different women in all those different cities. Do you have a score sheet somewhere?”

“It's not that many. But hey, a man has needs, so...” he shrugs.

“I guess you don't like studying alone that much after all,” she teases, and he gives a scowl and then wraps one arm around waist, lifts her into his chest and then dumps her onto her back in the middle of the bed. “Is this where you punish me?” she inquires, as he kneels between her thighs and leans over her, a hand on either side of her head, outstretched arms bearing his weight. “Is there where I get in trouble for being a smart ass?”

Tyler shakes his head, then places a chaste kiss to her lips before sliding down the bed; fingertips gentle as he pulls up the bottom of her t-shirt, pushes down the waistband of her shorts and then presses his lips to her stomach. Where their baby...his baby...is safe and secure. And it's a moment that is so pure and so beautiful...a moment of vulnerability from such a big, strong, brave man...that it brings tears to her eyes.

“Baby...” she reaches down to push his hair out of his eyes. “...are you okay?”

He nods.

“You don't seem...I don't know...you.”

“I'm fine,” he assures her, giving her that that half frown, half smile that reveals that he is in fact, not fine at all. And his hands are on her hips as he rests his forehead against her stomach.

“Tyler...” she tugs at his hair, forcing him to look up at her. “...what's going on? And don't say nothing. Because I can tell there's something happening inside that brain of yours.”

He attempts another smile. This one a little brighter and reassuring. “You know how I get. Right before shit's about to go down.”

“No. This isn't that. You don't act like this. You're quiet and sullen and broody when you're going into a job. This is different. You're different.”

“I love you,” he says. “So much. I need you to know that.”

“Tyler...” she frowns. “...what is going on?”

“Say it,” he pleads. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you too. You know I do. Tell me what's wrong. I can tell something is wrong.”

“I just wanted you to know that. That I love you. You know, just in case.”

“Don't talk like that. Please. I don't want to hear you talk like that.”

“There's something I need to do. Something I can't tell you about. It's better that you don't know. I need you to trust me. That what I'm going to do, I'm doing for you. And the baby. For our kids. I don't want you to ask me about it. Because I can't tell you. It's for your own good. And for mine.”

“Tyler...what...?”

“Just trust me, okay? I need you to trust me. That this is the way things have to be done. I wouldn't do it unless it needed to be done. Just know that it's for you and my kids.”

“You're scaring me. What's going on?”

“I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I want to tell you. But I can't. I'm so sorry, Esme.”

She see the tears that well in his eyes, hears the emotion that causes his voice to crack. “You're going to be okay, right? At least tell me you're going to be okay.”

“I'll be okay,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to her stomach before moving up the bed, once more kneeling between her thighs as he takes her face her hands and kisses her. Long and soft. Heart breakingly sweet. “I'll be okay.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth character #extraction #sanctuary

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recaffeine · 4 years

Note

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 💖 (answer only if you wish to! n_n)

I AM HONORED CHI.

OK. So I have 3 facts or stories to give.

1. Alright so Tumblr origin story. Started around 2011ish. So it's been about 10 years. Wow. I started to use Tumblr as a poetry blog, then it started to blend and become my fandom and romantic outlet too. Still is really. Originally named thecoffeeprince, then tommythepanda, and now tahsang. I have about 3000 posts as of 2020. 5000 followers from my past tumblr days. My highest noted post was about a Snorlax pillowpet that got around 100k notes. Pretty proud of that.

2. Earlier this month I happened to peruse my archives to see the progression of 2011 me to now. There are themes from 2011 to 2014 of pure black coffee bitter sadness. Then 2015 to 2017 of finding bright hope along with said pure black coffee bitter sadness. And finally 2018 and onward of sparse moments of said sadness and more about things I love. So I want to say it's been an upward journey overall with minor and major bumps along the way. The constants of my Tumblr throughout the decade though has been anime, romance, Asian culture, and pure nerdiness and there is comfort in seeing parts of me that didn't change and other parts that did.

3. Now final story.

I remember writing about just being feeling depressed and and experiencing the morbid feeling of death after finishing high school. I was at a loss you know? I didn't really expect to make it to the age of 18. I’m such a loom and doom type of person. I've always been a major thinker. The type to play out dozens of scenarios of things going wrong. The worst kind of overthinking. I was experiencing a turbulence of emotions and younger me just didn't know how to handle it. I wrote about living in books, running away from life and setting the stage of :the world vs. tahsang.

Looking back at everything once more, I realized it was really wasn’t the world vs. me. It really just me fighting against myself the entire time. The world isn’t wrong. It just is. All the years of sadness, anger, and desperation was just a battle against myself.

I had this singular notion that I wanted to be happy. Happiness was my promised land and that was where I dreamed to be at. I imagined hope as the brightest of lights and felt that if I could reach happiness I could reach feeling complete. I would no longer be a broken hallelujah. I wanted the strength to able to withstand life's hardships without any staggering.

Well, it's 2020 now. It's been almost ten years since I've started my tumblr. I’m still staggering. lol. I’m still getting sad from time to time. I’ve stepped out of a 4 year relationship and for the first time in a long time I’m by myself, alone. There is no one to define me but me. In the last few months I've been coming to grips with all these changes and that lead me to ask. Who is tahsang?

Going back through my Tumblr posts from the beginning, it feels like past tahsang was trying so hard to deflect my sadness. He was just soaking in the rain, trying so hard to paint the world as the reason for my shortcomings.

But it's been such a journey. I'm going to be 27 in a month. I have better tools when it comes to reflecting on my sadness now. Even in my darkest of moments, I still want to see the good in the world and honestly that’s enough for me. Just the attempt to try to see the good in the universe is enough for me even if some days I still feel the world is cruel and dark. Honestly, I'm still the sad emotional boy I knew in high school. I'm still the fervent ink spiller from my college years. But I’m also that wishful guy trying to achieve seeing the good in humanity, life and myself when I was in pharmacy school. I have erred so much in these last ten years, but even so, I do not believe it was all for naught.

I’m starting to realize that maybe having hope isn't just wishing for sunshine and blue skies. Maybe having hope is truly a mixture of sadness and happiness. Accepting the grey skies and stormy nights to experience the sunshine and blue skies. Having the strength to carve a brighter future, yet being able to accept the mistakes of the past and future mistakes of what lies ahead.

It's still a constant battle. On days I feel optimistic, my goals slowly being achieved day by day. I still want to get my mom a house. I still want to be a great pharmacist. I still want to be there for all my friends. I want to be able to love myself. I want to be able to find someone who can love me for me. But others days are filled with the same doubts and negative thoughts from all the way back in 2011. I'm afraid of not being good enough. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of not amounting to anything. But.. I think that’s okay though. All these feelings are part of me, and I don’t feel the need to run away from them anymore. I’m not afraid to hurt anymore. I will struggle, beautifully against all odds. I wish I could see my 17 year old self and tell him that everything will be okay. I want to tell him that I’m no longer writing about what is wrong with the world and myself, and that I’ve been writing about the things I love and cherish and that I’m on the road towards cherishing myself even. Maybe.. no definitely, it will give him some comfort on what lies ahead in the future.

All in all, I feel like 2019 me pushed me off the edge of a cliff for the start of 2020. He knew i could handle this great loss in my life. To me, 2019 was the best version of myself. Positive. At peace. Courageous. I trust him. He made me take a big leap of faith for 2020, believing I'd have the strength to rise up and move forward with my life even with this great loss. He knew that even with these changes that I would prosper still.

I’m not sure if I’ve landed just yet. I’m beginning to grasp this newfound hope though, the complete hope that I was looking for all along. I think that’s enough for now. It’s truly empowering and I can’t wait to see what lies ahead in my future because of it. I’m hopeful.

It’s really late and I just felt like typing. I’m not sure if any of this made any sense but ty for listening to my tedtalk.

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queenofmoons · 4 years

Text

For Blue, Blue Skies

Read it Here on AO3

Mathematically, one of two things should have happened when Peter and Harry became friends. The first solution was that Peter’s negative social status would bring Harry down. The second solution was that Harry’s overwhelming social prowess would make Peter popular enough that Flash Thompson would invite him to a party.

It actually ended up equalling zero.

Flash had stopped bothering him. At least, he waited until Peter was a few steps ahead of him before telling Liz how much Peter Parker could suck it. That was something Peter could handle.

Peter was invited out because Harry was going out.

“Come get drinks with us,” he would say as he stood in the mirror tying his tie. He’d watch Peter in the reflection as he flipped through the radio channels pretending to be busy. He was waiting for Harry to leave so he could slip out the window and into the night. “I convinced Gwen to come.”

For the first time, Peter had something resembling a friend group, even if the only people he could consider himself close to were Harry, Gwen, and MJ. On the occasional Friday night he found himself out instead of swinging around. He went to parties, he flirted, he fell in love. Peter actually got to be Peter instead of being Spider-Man, and it felt amazing.

The first time Gwen leaned into him, cheeks flush from the alcohol, and whispered into Peter’s ear that she hoped they could do this again, he forgot Betty Brant’s name altogether.

Peter wasn’t an outcast looking over his shoulder anymore. He also wasn’t too popular for his “job.” Harry’s friendship had helped develop a happy balance between social life and vigilantism.

Social indifference wasn’t the only benefit to Harry’s friendship. Having a place to live was decently nice, especially since he was letting Peter stay in his apartment for free. There was also the fact that Harry’s father was Norman Osborn, owner and CEO of the largest tech company on the east coast.

“Take the job.” Harry urged for the umpteenth time. “You’re a hard worker. It’s a job you’ll be able to get on your own eventually. It’s not cheating to get a head start.”

That’s exactly what cheating was. That didn’t make the offer any less appealing.

“It doesn’t feel right, Har,” Peter said because his suit felt hot under his clothes. Harry didn’t know just how well Peter actually knew his father. Thankfully, Norman hadn't shown any sign of remembering his stint as the Green Goblin. That meant that he didn't remember Peter being Spider-Man, but Peter was sure that luck would run out eventually. If a hit to the head could make him forget, what said a harder hit to the head wouldn't make him remember? It was also because… “I don’t want to get a job just because I’m your friend.”

“Fine.” Harry kicked his shoes off as he pushed into the apartment. “How about this? You interview with my dad, just like anyone else, and you see how it goes?”

Peter hesitated. He was going to be out of college soon enough, and a leg up would be nice, especially considering the fact that he'd had a hard time in class due to his "job." Besides, if Norman was going to remember him, not taking the job wouldn't change that.

“No guarantees?” The corner of Peter’s lip twitched.

Harry held out a fist. “No guarantees.”

Peter got the job. When he approached Harry about this, straddling the line between ungrateful and triumphant, Harry had simply shrugged and slid the bowl of cereal he had poured across the table to Peter. “I guess this calls for celebration, then. You were qualified. I’m proud of you, man. When you start making bank I’m gonna start charging you rent.”

Peter smiled and ate a bite of cereal.

Harry’s friendship didn’t come without its downfalls. It was something Peter picked up on slowly. Piece by piece. After the night at the theater, after their fight. After Harry had tried to kick Peter out.

Harry had more pills in his medicine cabinet than a pharmacist had at work. Quite a few of them weren’t legal. Even more were, which was more concerning.

Spider-Man could fight off villains (and he did his fair share of that), but Peter couldn’t approach Harry without getting trod on.

More than once broaching the subject led to an argument. It was always the drugs-- and MJ, sometimes, but most of those arguments were had when Harry wasn’t in his right mind. Peter felt, sometimes, like he was trying to hold onto a fraying thread. Being Harry’s friend sometimes felt like a full-time job, and that wasn’t something Peter could handle on top of work, school, and babysitting the city.

He talked to everyone he could think to-- MJ, Gwen, even Norman, but it didn’t do anything. The night Norman Osborn died, Harry was on bed rest and still suffering from a bad trip. For the past few days, the apartment had been quiet and eerie, but not nearly as unsettling as walking into the Osborn mansion and finding a discombobulated Harry. If Norman had let him see him, Peter might have been able to understand. He may have been given a chance to see his best friend as himself one last time. Instead, Peter saw him confused and lost, looking for someone to help him understand. Instead of helping, Peter continued his search for revenge.

When Norman Osborn died it didn’t take long for the papers to start blaming Spider-Man. For once, J. Jonah Jameson wasn’t publishing lies, just not the full truth, and the fact made Peter a little sick to his stomach.

After the glider had impaled him, Peter took the time to remove Norman's Green Goblin costume to ensure anonymity.

He did it to assuage his own guiltlessness.

Spider-Man doesn’t kill. Until he did, that is, and Peter was disgusted by how unashamed it made him feel. He had just killed someone-- he had just killed his best friend’s father and he felt nothing as he shifted the body back into position and prepared to leave with the mask and costume.

Even the thought of an avenged Gwen didn’t fill him with relief.

Peter returned home to find MJ outside their apartment. He took his confusion out on her.

They'd gotten medical clearance for Harry to attend Norman's funeral. Standing in line, Harry still looked gaunt and shaky. Peter watched him carefully. His Spider senses were tingling, but he couldn't figure out why, so he forced himself to chalk it up to MJ pointedly avoiding his gaze.

When the funeral ended, Peter put an arm out for a hug. Harry fell into him, his head buried in Peter's shoulder, his arm tight around his neck. Peter held them both upright as Harry shuddered. For the first time, Peter felt the stirrings of guilt.

"C'mon," he murmured into his friend's ear, "Let's head home."

After returning to the apartment, though, they simply sat in a simmering silence that Peter didn’t know what to do with.

“I hate him,” Harry said. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. Peter looked up, confused. “Spider-Man. I hate him.” Peter’s lips formed an ‘O.’

“They don’t know for a fact that it was him,” he tried carefully.

“God, not you too.” His hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck--”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Peter looked down at his lap.

“Everyone is out there defending him and saying what a hero he is--”

“I just meant--”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Peter.”

“I am on your side,” Peter shot back. “Everyone is on your side, Harry. All any of us have wanted to do is help you.” He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “I know how you feel.” He chose to ignore the glare Harry aimed at him. “When my uncle died all I wanted to do was find the guy who killed him and… But that’s not the way, Har. You’ll get so obsessed with revenge that you’ll lose track of everything else.”

“That’s not the same thing.” Harry’s tone made Peter flinch. “The man who killed your uncle got arrested. I know who killed my dad, and no one is going to do anything about it but me.”

“People are investigating--”

“He killed Gwen, too. Are you just going to forget that?”

Peter’s heart jumped. He could tell by the look Harry was giving him that the line was meant to hurt him. He was supposed to rise to the bait. Instead he answered calmly, “of course I’m not.” and stood. “I should probably--”

"Wait, Peter." Harry reached out and grabbed Peter's wrist. "I’m sorry. Pl-please don't go."

Peter looked down at where they were connected. He swallowed, then met Harry's gaze. His eyes were wide and wild, and Peter suddenly thought about any medicine they'd missed when he, Gwen and MJ had swept the apartment. He thought about Harry, high, pleading, "please don't go. How will I know that you were really here, Peter?"

he said finally, "I'm just going to grab some water… I'll get you one, too."

MJ had silently forgiven Peter for the night Gwen died. She arrived at his apartment with two cups of coffee and a serious expression on her face. That was the day he broke down and told her. She'd taken it better than he expected (what was the proper way to respond when you found out that your ex's best friend is Spider-Man?), But she hadn't judged him or shied away.

“Gwen,” she said, “You didn’t…”

Peter shook his head. “She fell from the bridge. I tried to catch her. I don’t know what killed her, if it was the fall, if it was the webbing-- I don’t. I don’t know.”

“And Goblin was…”

“Harry’s father, yeah.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He ducked his head and stared at the top of the kitchen table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

MJ put a hand on his. “I don’t blame you.” A pause. “But you gotta move on, Peter. Don’t let this eat you up.”

Coffee dates became something of a weekly event.

“You can’t save everyone,” MJ reminded him gently. They were sitting on a rooftop, staring out over the city. He could tell it bothered her too. Harry was her friend just as much as his. “He’s sick.”

She’d said this before the declaration. Before Harry-but-not-Harry had looked Peter in the eye and sworn to kill Spider-Man. Before he hadn’t heard from Harry in two weeks.

Peter took a long swig of his coffee. He was in his suit, but his mask was off. Sweat clung to his forehead and his muscles were sore, but this break made him restless. It was one of the first times he'd been out since Norman Osborn's death had been publicized and he'd forgotten how much he missed the freedom, the weightlessness.

“I can try,” he said. He felt guilty as soon as he said it. He tried again, “I can try to save him, at least.”

MJ sighed. “I’m not going to try to stop you,” she told him, which he knew meant do your best.

Trying his best started by talking to him as a friend. Harry, pulled up into himself, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite human, looking past Peter. It’s the drugs, Peter reminded himself, but it didn’t make him feel better.

It had taken Peter a while to find him. He was holed up in his father’s old house-- a place Peter hadn’t been welcome since Norman kicked him out when Harry had overdosed.

“I know a doctor,” Peter told him. “We can get you help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry argued, and Peter sighed. He thought about the first time they’d had this conversation when Peter had tried to talk him out of taking so much medicine. That had been the first time Harry had warned him to mind his own business. “I’m fine.”

MJ had tried to talk to him, too. She was the only one who ever managed to get through to him, but he didn’t even budge this time.

“I’m not in the business of listening to women that aren’t dating me,” he said, and he didn’t apologize when MJ recoiled.

“It’s not him,” Peter reminded her, quiet, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He turned his attention back to the friend they were trying to help. “Why don’t you come home? This is a big place to be in all alone.”

“I’ve been using my father’s research,” Harry said, “It’s too much to bring home.”

“His research?” Peter leaned forward in his seat. “What for?”

Harry looked up with only his eyes and said simply, “I’m going to kill Spider-Man.”

When Peter saw the Green Goblin again, he didn’t have any doubts about who it was. The fight was harder than he’d expected it to be. He was disappointed.

He’d expected Harry to be better.

When Harry died, it was the silence that tore Peter apart. When his hand went slack in Peter’s, it wasn’t grief that struck Peter first. It was relief, and then guilt, and then crippling loneliness.

The ambulance sped up. EMTs swarmed. Peter realized it didn’t matter. Harry died gripping Peter’s hand. Silent. When the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, Peter swung away without looking back.

He recounted the battle to MJ on the front porch steps of the funeral home. His forehead was in his hand. His voice was steely.

This wasn’t the first time Spider-Man had failed to save someone. He’d gotten used to that. Being a hero meant losing people. It meant trying, and failing, and trying a little bit harder. This feeling was different. More Personal. It was akin to watching Uncle Ben die. Except, no one could blame Spider-Man for this, not even Peter.

For the first time in his life, Peter had failed to save someone.

“That’s not true, you know.” MJ frowned at Peter when he finished explaining this. “You did save him.”

Peter scoffed.

“I’m serious,” MJ said. She looked guilty. Peter hadn’t noticed that before.

"He asked me for help," Peter said. "The night Gwen died."

"Peter, you can't--"

"He begged me for help, MJ. And you know what I did?" Peter laughed, harsh, but tears welled up in his eyes. "I ignored him, and I went out, and I killed his dad."

MJ didn't respond. Her head was bowed, face cased in shadow. She was crying, sniffling quietly into the night.

“This might not have happened,” Peter said. His jaw was set. His eyes were misty. Part of him was tempted to reach out and comfort MJ by putting a hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t feel right. He kept his hands to himself. “If I had stayed.”

“Or it might have.” MJ wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “What difference does it make? You can’t change the past, you can only live with what you’ve done.”

“What if I can’t?” Peter’s voice was hoarse.

“I don’t think you really have a choice.” MJ looked at him. She reached out and took his hand. Gentle. “I think about that night outside the theater all the time. And the next day. I was awful to him. I can’t take that back.”

Peter slumped and rested his head against the side of hers. People were starting to file out of the funeral parlor: classmates, family, press. Peter hadn’t realized how alone they’d been until they were suddenly in the middle of a crowd.

“You were able to give him peace, you know,” MJ said, just loud enough for Peter to hear. “Before he died. Forgiveness. Not everyone gets that.” She was rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “Sometimes saving people doesn’t mean punching their enemies.”

Peter closed his eyes. He hummed, something of agreement, or acknowledgment, or exhaustion.

"I said some pretty horrible things to you that night, too," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I never apologized for it."

"I know," MJ answered simply.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

The parking lot emptied out. Once again, it was just MJ and Peter outside of the funeral home, still connected, still holding hands. MJ sighed, long and low, and Peter hummed again. For a moment, he could imagine he was in the back of the ambulance again comforting his best friend. Reconciling. He thought, again, about that being a form of saviorism. The thought made his chest tight, but not in a bad way. He hoped Harry was at peace.

#this fic is nearly a year old so i thought I’d promote it #it’s one of my faves but it’s ALSO my first spider-man fic #it’s comicverse #comicverse #spider-man #spiderman #harry osborn #peter parker #mj watson #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #drug mention #fic #fanfiction #ao3

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

Text

Starting Early // TM!JFM

Pairing: Tim Murphy x Fem!Reader Word Count: 8.2K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Fluff, some pregnancy discussions, swearing, some angst Summary: You and Tim had been trying for a baby for a while, and one day you popped into the museum with a small box in hand ready to make what you could only imagine was a very stressful day better. Once it’s official, Tim cannot wait to show the baby around his place of work. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: This could have been written for literally anyone I write for but I had a strong urge for Tim, so that’s that.

Masterlist

To say that it had been a stressful time in Tim’s life was an understatement. One of the biggest stresses of his life had recently come to a head, though, and that was yours and his wedding. But he would never admit to you that the planning had stressed him out. You, on the other hand, made that apparent. That was something he loved about you. You were not shy, so you two balanced each other out. The wedding ended up being absolutely amazing, and the honeymoon was a great way to relieve all the pent-up stress.

Once the honeymoon was over and the two of you were back to your daily grinds, the other stresses in his life returned, including the museum, dealing with his kooky family, and a new pressure entered, as well. One that he was not quite sure he was ready for, but knew he wanted the minute you suggested the idea. You two were going to try for a baby.

But things were not working out the way you wanted. You were positive you were doing things right, but it had been months and no test came back positive. After almost half a year of trying, you were both getting extremely discouraged, and Tim’s workload had increased tenfold, so he was even more tense than usual. To say that you both were wrecked over the situation was an understatement, and after the day you saw Tim go to work with tears in his eyes, you were determined to pick up his spirits. But you were not sure how you were going to do that.

Until you took the most recent test.

You had woken up sick to your stomach the morning after Tim left with tears in his eyes, and could not hold it back. Tim was about to walk out the door when he heard you in the bathroom and rushed over to the door to check on you.

“Babe?”

All he was met with were some sputtering coughs.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“You need me to stay home today?”

You trudged your way over and opened the door to face him instead of talking through it.

“I’m okay. The chicken last night must not be agreeing with me. I’ll be okay, go get your work done. I’ll just see you when you come home, okay?”

“But you’re sick, I can’t—”

“Yes you can. I’ve been sick when you’re away on a dig and been fine.”

“You’ve been sick when I’m away and not told me?!”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you, honey. Now go off to work because I think round two is coming.”

“Babe—”

And the door was shut in his face. ‘Great,’ he thought. ‘Now I have to worry about her, my job, and the fact that my body is so screwed up it can’t even give her a damn baby.’ He walked out to his car feeling even more defeated than usual and a little bit depressed. He could not help but wonder if he was worth being with you, as dramatic as that was.

As Tim was walking out, and you were finishing up the round two that came rather violently, something dawned on you. And it both terrified you and made you thrilled.

Once you felt like you could stand up without feeling dizzy, something else that had been happening the last few days, you got changed and grabbed your own car keys. You raced down to your local drug store, the same pharmacist seeing where in the store you were heading. He was glad you did not see him, but he gave you a pitiful look. He stopped counting after you had bought 40 tests. He had never seen someone more determined to have a baby, and he just did not have the courage to breach such a sensitive subject with you. But he did not have to worry for much longer, because the next time you came in the store, you bought beef jerky, something you or Tim never ate. And he knew.

When you got home, you practically shot gunned a bottle of water in an effort to get ready for the little stick that was more daunting than it should have been. Then, as soon as you felt the sensation, you went in the bathroom, and the waiting game commenced.

5 minutes.

…

It was not even two little lines you got to see. You had splurged in the hopes that maybe this would be the one on one of those tests that quite literally spells out ‘not pregnant’ or ‘pregnant.’ You read the result.

And you could not wait to drive to the museum.

The drive usually only takes about 20 minutes, and even though that was all it took this time, the nerves and nausea radiating through your stomach made it feel like 20 years. On the way there, you had stopped at a local craft store and bought a small, white box and some blue and pink tissue paper to place the test in. It was astounding to you how a small piece of plastic was about to change yours and Tim’s life for the better.

You parked your car and made your way into the museum, Lilah the normal receptionist sitting in her chair having her daily coffee and pastry. She saw you walk in, smiled at you, and waved you through. Normally, the people who come to see someone on staff are required to have a visitor pass, and when you and Tim first started dating, you were no exception to the rule. Now, the entire staff of the museum knew who you were, and thought it was just plain silly for a staff member’s wife to wear a badge, especially when you visited so much you practically worked there yourself.

Once through the opening exhibit, you made your way back to the hallway of offices and walked up the flight of steps to the second floor where Tim’s office was. As you were walking up the steps, though, one of Tim’s bosses happened to be walking down and started talking to you.

“Y/N! I’m not really surprised to see you here, but it’s always nice to see you, nonetheless. What does Tim owe the pleasure?”

“I actually have a surprise for him, Jerry.” Jerry was Tim’s oldest boss, and he was genuinely the sweetest man you had ever gotten the pleasure of meeting. “Is he in his office?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure, actually. Here, I’ll follow you up and if his door is locked, I can let you in and you can wait for him.”

“That’d would be great, Jerry, thank you very much.”

You walked up, and sure enough Tim’s office was locked. Having Jerry there was a blessing, and he was about to leave you and lock the door behind him, when he turned around.

“Sweetheart?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes and a hum.

“If I may… what is that little gift you have? Today isn’t Tim’s birthday, is it?” “Oh! No, no it isn’t. This is actually just a bit of a surprise for him, is all. Surprised me, too, if I’m being transparent.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

You nodded enthusiastically, tears already threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Well. Knowing Tim, you’re about to make him the happiest man on Earth. And you already did the day you married him. Congratulations, deary.”

You could not even bring yourself to say thank you because you had started crying happy tears. Jerry shut the door behind you and you heard the lock click. You had calmed your crying down after about 5 minutes, and then another 5 minutes later, you heard the door unlock again. Tim walked in with an enormous stack of paperwork that completely dropped to the floor when he saw you seated at his desk. Thankfully, it was all in sealed file folders, so nothing cascaded across the floor.

“Jesus! Ah… oh my god. Y-Y/N… what are you… doing here?” Tim had to speak between breaths because you had scared him so badly.

“Sorry, honey! I just wanted to come see you and your door was locked, so Jerry let me in so I could sit down.”

“It’s…it’s fine. Just let me… catch my breath for a sec.” Tim sat down at the chairs that were opposite his chair, not wanting to make you get up, roles reversed momentarily. “So. What do I owe the pleasure of my wife’s presence on this… overwhelming day?”

“Well, I actually have something to give you.” “… I didn’t forget about my birthday again, did I?”

“No, Tim.” You were laughing in an attempt to cover up the emotions that were starting to resurface, since you knew what was about to happen. Your lives were about to change. Well, Tim’s was. Yours already had, alone in the bathroom earlier this morning.

You slowly slid the white box over to your husband, and he looked at it with confusion at first. Then he slowly reached for it and lifted the lid. He saw the pink and blue bundle of tissue paper and looked back up at you with even more confusion. You were doing everything in your power to not give anything away, but much to your chagrin, a tear slipped from your eyes the moment Tim made eye contact with you. The confusion lifted from his face, and a new emotion took over – concern. He ripped into the tissue paper like a small child on Christmas morning, but with the intensity of a grown man. The tissue paper had been scattered all around his legs and the floor and the top of his desk until he got to what was hidden underneath it.

‘Pregnant.’

The room was silent for a moment. Then came the sniffles from both sides of the desk. Then the eye contact of eyes that were flooded with tears and burning red with overwhelming feelings of love. Tim was by your side in an instant, latching on to you with everything he had. You were sobbing and he was laughing. It was a moment you would never forget.

“I… I knew we were doing it right.”

“Obviously, Timmy.”

“You’re going to be a mom… oh my God, you’re going to be a mom and-and I’m…”

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tim looked at you and his eyes sparkled the way water looks when the sun shines down on it.

“An amazing dad.”

[2.5 Weeks]

“Isn’t that a good idea? We can start he/she early!”

“You know I don’t like pictures, Tim.”

“But this is different! This is something we are both going to want to look back on, and what better way to do it?”

Tim had come home from work a few days after he found out you were pregnant with a bag from a local electronics shop and was enthusiastically telling you about a plan he had. The plan involved something you had hated even before you were pregnant, but knowing that you were going to just be getting bigger and bigger as time went on made you hate the idea even more. Tim had wanted to document your pregnancy through pictures at the museum at milestone dates.

“… fine. You spent all that money on the camera, so I guess I can deal with it.”

“Astounding! And it starts today, you’re coming to work with me!”

“Tim! I have to go to work myself, I can’t just not show—”

“I already called your boss, he said it’s fine. Probably because he wanted me to just shut up, but it worked!”

You just looked at Tim lovingly while he laughed to himself. Then you ran over to the bathroom. Tim never thought he would get used to hearing you get sick. He almost felt bad that he was the cause of it, but knowing what would come out of it after nine months made it completely worthwhile to him. You were not so sure in the moment, but Tim’s enthusiasm convinced you otherwise.

You had made your way to the museum carefully, because the motions of cars did upset your stomach more. But the ride was quick and pretty painless this time. The two of you had decided not to tell anyone right away in case the worst happened, so when the museum staff saw you and Tim walk in together, no one thought anything different. Except for Jerry, but Tim had talked to him in advance and he knew not to say anything. When you two passed him walking to Tim’s office, he just gave you both a small smile, which you both returned.

Once all of Tim’s belongings were in his office, the two of you started walking hand in hand through the museum. Tim seemed to be taking you to a specific exhibit that he had in mind, but you were not sure why. Then it dawned on you. It was the exhibit that had the skull he found a long time ago on a dig when the two of you were still dating. (You do not have to read this for this story to make sense, just know that it could be read as a prequel of sorts.)

“Why are we stopping here?”

“You didn’t think I bought an expensive camera without a plan on when to use it, did you?”

“Of course not, but why this exhibit?”

“Don’t you remember? This is where the skull I found it is. I thought this could be where we take the growth pictures. Do you… hate the idea?”

You were feeling emotional to begin with, what with all the new hormones raging through your body, but you were just so happy in that moment that you just hugged Tim tightly. When you pulled away, through more happy tears, you told him how happy you were and how much you loved the idea.

Tim had you stand sideways in front of the display, lit with gold-tinted lights that illuminated your silhouette in a way that almost made Tim cry.

“There’s not much of a bump yet, Tim.” “But we know he/she’s there.”

[One Month]

The morning sickness had increased. Quite a bit. You felt sick around the clock, and practically everything you ate came up later in the day. Tim had gotten better at handling it. At first, he would have trouble being in the bathroom or even near it. Now he can hold your hair back for you as long as he does not look at you. You took what you could get.

One particular morning, Tim had woken up more excitable than he had been recently. You just felt sick so you ignored him. Then you felt a flop on top of you, signaling Tim had thrown something on top of you.

“What the hell are you doing? I don’t work today, why are you waking me up? And throwing my clothes on me?”

“Because you’re coming to the museum today. It’s been one month!”

“What…are you talking—”

“One month since you got pregnant, baby!”

The days dragged so much for you with how awful you felt, both physically from the sickness, and emotionally from not being able to tell anyone yet, that you completely stopped keeping track of dates. You had trouble believing that it had already been so long.

“Oh… that means it’s picture day, huh?”

“You bet! Plus, I’m giving a tour today to a group of 6 year-olds, so maybe you could tag along and see what we have coming!”

You offered Tim a weak smile. You were both so sure of having a kid together, but the reality of at it all had not really set in, at least for you. Your brain still continually told you that it was simply severe food poisoning from that chicken. But to Tim, it was his child. He was so proud that he could do something like that, and he wanted to prepare in every possible way he could, just so he could be the kid’s best friend. But you knew he did not have to prepare for that – it would happen by default. Almost made you jealous.

After a smaller than usual bout of morning sickness, you got dressed in the outfit Tim had picked out for you. The same one you wore the first time he took a picture. You understood why. The pants were a simple pair of grey sweats that were baggier around your lower abdomen and butt but were fitted toward the bottom, and a simple, oversized by about 3 sizes, pastel yellow tee shirt. An outfit that would be very easy to utilize for showing off a growing bump. Just what Tim wanted to do with his camera.

You went into your kitchen and smelled one of the few breakfast foods that did not make you sick, a chocolate croissant, something that Tim liked to bake for you even before you got pregnant. It was a specialty of his. One of the few things he could cook or bake, in general. He was standing at your kitchen table, with a somewhat bashful expression on his face. He held a croissant out in front of him, work bag and car keys in the other.

“I didn’t have time to bake them this weekend, so these are store-bought, but I warmed this one for you.”

You just walked over, took the croissant gently from his hands, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“You’re very welcome. Hope they’re not better than mine.”

“Close. But yours are better.”

“Fantastic.” He seemed really giddy about that fact. It made you smile. “You ready to head in?”

“I think so, I just need to grab my wallet.”

With that, the two of you made your way over to the museum and barely had any time to lock your belongings in his office when the exhibit manager of the day came over and told Tim the group was already there, and they were getting impatient. He needed to make his way down quickly or there would be a bunch of rambunctious 6-year-olds making a mess for the janitors.

Tim told them he would be down as soon as he could, but he would only walk at the speed you felt comfortable with. You were his priority. You were doing good on the sickness today, and he was not about to be the reason that changed. You two made your way down and instantly Tim went into tour guide-mode. It honestly was one of the funniest Tim personalities you knew, but you loved it all the same. Tim was introducing himself to the kids and the teachers and chaperones while you watched from the back of the group. A small group of Tim’s coworkers walked by the group and saw you standing there, and waved enthusiastically. Nothing out of sorts. You two still had your secret in place.

You followed the group around from the back, sometimes talking to one of the chaperones about this or that, and even mentioned to one that you were in the very early stages of your pregnancy, to which she became giddy but kept it contained. The only reason you mentioned it to her was because you had pointed out that one girl seemed to be very sad the whole tour and the lady mentioned that it was her daughter.

“If you’d like, when they have a break, you could go talk to her.”

“What? Why? Why me?”

“You’re gonna need practice, sweetheart, boy or girl.”

You gave her a nervous look, because this was making reality really set in for you. But you heeded her words, knowing she was right, and made your way over to the little girl while she ate her lunch alone.

“Hi there.”

She looked up at you with big, beautiful blue eyes.

“May I sit with you? I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with.”

She just nodded her head and kept slowly munching, her mother watching from behind so the girl did not see her.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Josephine.”

“That’s a beautiful name! Mine’s nowhere near as pretty, it’s just Y/N.”

“That’s pretty too!”

“Well, thank you. Josephine is prettier though. Your lunch looks good, what’re you having?”

“PB&J!”

You gasped in shock. “That’s my absolute favorite! In fact,” you reached down into your bag, “I brought one myself!”

Josephine laughed loudly, the sound attracting the attention of both her mother and Tim, but you two were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

“Josephine, can I ask you a question?”

Another nod.

“You looked really sad all morning, and that made me sad. Could you tell me why?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Honey. I promise there is no stupid reason to feel however you’re feeling. Emotions are natural reactions to whatever happens to you. What you feel is okay to feel. If you tell me what it is, I might be able to make you feel better.”

“…Tyler called me unpretty.”

“Tyler called you unpretty?”

“Yeah.”

“Well listen. Tyler is the one here who is unpretty. You, my dear, are beautiful. Just like a Disney princess. You have a name fit for one, too. And I want you to know that that kind of behavior is not tolerated in the adult world, so I will make sure it stops for you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You think you can enjoy the rest of Dr. Tim’s tour?”

“Are you going to be there?”

“Of course I will, sweetie. Dr. Tim and I have a very special relationship. I’m his biggest fan.”

“Do you love him?”

Her question caught you slightly off guard. “More than anything in this world, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“But I’ll be right behind the group the whole—”

“Would you hold my hand while he gives the show?”

You stopped in your tracks. That felt too much like something her own mother should do. You glanced over to her, knowing she was watching the interaction now, and she gave you the thumbs up.

“I would love to sweetie.”

For the rest of the tour, you stuck by Josephine’s side, hand not leaving hers once. Every once in a while, you were certain you saw Tim sneak a lingering glance at the two of you, and one time it lasted so long, he had to break himself out of his thoughts and his eyes had gotten a little glossy.

At the end of the tour, you all said your goodbyes, and you gave Josephine a quick hug, and gave one to her mother, as well. As you and Tim watched the bus drive away, Tim turned to you with a small smirk on his face.

“What do you want, Dr. Tim?”

“Oh, nothing… mom.”

He grabbed your hand and immediately took you to the display so he could take your picture. Still not much of a bump, you noticed, but you sure as hell felt different after the interaction you had today.

“My money’s on girl.” “Really? You’re already making bets? On what grounds?”

“You were too damn good with that little girl for it to be coincidental.”

[Two Months]

Morning sickness was still a bitch, frankly. Your doctor, one of only 5 people who know about your pregnancy at this point, including you and Tim, put your mind at ease explaining that it should subside around month 4. Halfway to the cravings period, she explained. Nothing particular important happened in the last month, both at Tim’s work and with your pregnancy. Things were going smoothly, other than the incessant sickness, but that more than likely meant you and baby were healthy. At least according to your doctor.

You felt Tim throw your clothes on top of you again, signaling that you would be spending another day at the museum. Another picture day. This time you were less upset about him waking you up. But once you stood up, you were sprinting to the bathroom.

Damn morning sickness.

One chocolate croissant and a twenty-minute drive later, you were seated in Tim’s office reading a book from his shelf, one of the few novels relating to dinosaurs he had amongst hundreds of textbooks. He had mainly a paperwork day that day, so the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence. Something you hardly got to do even before you were pregnant. Your work lives made it so hard to see each other for any extended period of time, but you found ways to make it work.

Before either of you knew it, you had spent the entire day in his office, with you reading and him doing paperwork. It was practically time to go home, but you still had not taken your picture yet. You and Tim gathered all your belongings, locking up on your way out and made your way down to the exhibit. When you got down there, you placed all your stuff out of frame and stood profile to him and head gazing down at your stomach, just like any other shoot.

But you never heard the shutter.

You looked over at Tim who had tears streaking down his face, the camera shaking from how his hands were violently doing the same. You rushed over to him and grabbed his face, completely overwhelmed with confusion because you had no idea what triggered this. It was not raining or anything, so you had no idea what had set him off.

“Tim, baby, what’s wrong?” The panic was apparent in your frantic tone of voice.

“You’re showing.”

“What?”

“You’re showing.”

“What are you talk—”

“Let me take the picture.”

You slowly pulled away from him, resuming your position from a second before, and you heard the shutter go off this time. You walked back to him to see what he was referring to, and it hit you as hard as a wave of nausea in the morning.

You were showing.

The baby was showing.

You had already started to show after only two months.

You looked up at Tim with eyes that were just as watery as his, and hugged him tightly, but his grip was lighter. Knowing what was in between the two of you.

It became real.

[Three Months]

You had your doctor’s appointment, and she told you that it was officially safe to begin telling people about the pregnancy. Everything was looking fine, and the fact that you already had a small bump this early meant the baby was big and healthy. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

You told your families, and they all were extremely supportive, and Lex even cried, knowing that her kids would have a new family member to play with. Everything was going great, and you and Tim constantly felt like you were on cloud 9.

When you went into the museum to take the photo that day, you decided enough was enough and stopped hiding the bump, letting Tim’s coworkers ask about it. Some clapped him on the back, some broke down in tears at how amazing of parents they knew you two were going to be. It was all very overwhelming, but the two of you kept it pretty well together. Until it was time to take the photo. For some reason, seeing how much you had grown in a month set both of you off to the point where you were leaned up against the exhibit window, crying silently with each other.

Until you decided to speak.

“Am I going to be a good mom?”

“Wh-what?”

“Am I—”

“You’re going to be a perfect mom. I don’t know what brought this sudden fear up, but know that you are going to be a natural.”

“It’s all becoming so real, Tim. Like, I don’t need to stand sideways anymore to see the bump. He/she is really growing. They’re real. I just… don’t want to mess up.”

“Do you really think you and I aren’t going to make any mistakes? I mean, yes, we are near perfect human beings,” Tim’s sarcasm and sass always made you laugh, because it was never something people expected to come from such a shy human, “but all parents make mistakes. That’s how kids develop personalities. Otherwise, baby-making could basically be named cloning and we’d have invented that without even knowing it.”

Tim saw that you were not looking at him and tears were still running down your face. So, he grabbed it and pulled it to look at him.

“I didn’t have to see you with that girl to know you are going to be as perfect as you can be. Because I can see how much the idea of being a bad mom is eating away at you. You couldn’t handle the prospect of someone thinking you’re a bad mother, so you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure that doesn’t happen. Plus, I just know you. You were practically a mom even when we were dating. How much you doted on me. Took care of me on my bad days. Still do.”

You believed Tim. You believed every word that came from his mouth.

“And I know I’m going to be a great dad by the same logic as you. I don’t want to be a bad dad more than anything in this world, so I’m not going to let it happen. Plus, Lex can always give us pointers.”

“…thank you.” “Anytime, mother of my child.”

“…that’s weird, don’t say that.”

“You married this weirdo, you should expect this after all these years, Y/N.”

[Four Months]

Your morning sickness subsided – just like the doctor told you it would. It was a relief to not be throwing up every 2 hours. But the cravings were not much better. Beef jerky? ‘Really, baby?’ you always thought as you would gaze at your ever-growing stomach, now practically impossible to hide.

Walking in the museum with outside food or drink was against the rules, but Tim’s coworkers and bosses made an exception for you, knowing how hard you two tried to get to this moment in your lives. Especially when they saw you walk in going to town on a bag of beef jerky. They could tell by your expression that you hated it but it was what the baby wanted, and they always laughed out of pity and bemusement.

Nothing particularly exciting happened this day, either, just like last month. With the exception of a recent find being dropped off the museum for display. Tim told you he would finish up his paperwork and you could go watch them set it up. Then he would come find you when he was done and you could take your picture and go.

Once Tim had taken the picture, Tim had started crying again, so you ushered him to join you by the display and sit down.

“What’s going on, Timmy?”

“What… if they’re scared of me?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Scars, Y/N.”

You just looked at him in shock.

“I don’t look like you. Or anyone else. I’m marked. I know eventually I’ll have to explain what these are from, but what if when they’re a baby they don’t want me to hold them? Or feed them? Or change them? Or lay them in the crib? What if they just think I’m a monster? And not…dad?”

“… I wish I could say it won’t scare he/she. But I definitely think they’ll be interested… to a degree. But that won’t matter to a baby. All they’re going to see is your big beautiful eyes and your smile. All they’re going to hear is how cute they are and your gorgeous singing voice when you sing them to sleep. You’ll appear as the farthest thing from a monster, and you just have a really cool bedtime story to tell them when they’re younger. You can save the real stuff for later.”

“…”

“I love your scars. You know that. Very much so. I think the baby will, too.”

[Five Months]

You had officially gone one month without morning sickness, and you were very thankful for that fact. Tim would never say it to your face, but he was too. He did not want to make you feel bad for making him feel sick all the time, too, seeing as that the cause of yours was him. Your cravings were still in a pretty full swing, though, but they were never terrible combinations like movies and television made them out to be. Most of the time they were just foods you were not particularly fond of, but you could move past that, since they did not make you sick.

You had another doctor’s appointment, as per usual, but this was one you did not tell Tim about. Not because there was anything involved he had not seen before, but because this was the official appointment where the gender could be found out. You had a plan; you were going to have the doctor tell you the gender, and then you were going to work with the museum to have a small, private gender reveal for Tim. When you found out the gender, you cried and wanted to immediately share the news with Tim, but patience is truly a virtue, and you knew it would be worth the wait.

When you got home that day, you called the museum and told them what day you would be coming into the museum to take the newest photo, and they were more than willing to help you out. You wanted the surprise to be simple, so you explained what you had in mind, and they were all for it. Eventually the day came where you and Tim went to the museum together, and you spent the day like any other, moseying around sometimes with him and sometimes not. On one occasion when you were by yourself, you walked over to the exhibit where you took your photos to make sure the reveal had not been set up yet, and thankfully it was not. Meaning, Tim had no clue what he was in for.

Later in the day, the museum had closed up for the public, so you made a quick call to the manager who was going to set up your surprise to signal it was go time. You stalled Tim in his office as long as you could, but eventually, you ran out of stuff to say. So, you two made your way downstairs, and all you could do was hope that the manager got out of there in time.

Once in front of the exhibit, you decided not to say anything at first. See if Tim would notice. You set yourself up in front of the viewing window and assumed the position, and you heard the shutter go off. You were almost hurt that Tim did not notice the glaringly obvious breach of protocol in the exhibit, because you were the one who wanted to do this surprise for him. So, you decided to egg him on a bit.

“Tim, did I tell you I had an OBGYN appointment today?”

Tim’s head slowly looked up at you from the camera and his eyes were glossy, and you were certain you could see his lips trembling, holding back a smile.

“I didn’t think not telling you would make you this upset, honey, I’m really—”

“Pink.”

That explained the tears. And the attempt not to smile. He saw your surprise in the photo looking closer. You had instructed the museum to find a small beanie that would fit onto the skull in the exhibit that Tim had found on the dig. A pink one. To let him know that he would be having a daughter with you.

“It’s pink… you’re having… having a girl?”

“We’re having a girl, yes. A girl, Tim!”

“That’s the greatest news anyone could have ever told me. A girl… oh my God, a girl!”

You could see that he was ecstatic to hear that it was a girl. Both of you would have been happy with whatever it ended up being, but the happiness that radiated off of your husband indicated to you that he might have been leaning toward a preference.

“Oh no.” “What, Tim? You were just so happy.”

“I’m going to have to fight a lot of men soon.” “What? Why?” You were practically laughing just at the thought of Tim trying to win a fight. He was headstrong, sure, but body strong? Not so much.

“She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mother, which means a lot of potential suitors.”

“I’ll help her. She needs a man just like her father.”

[Six Months]

After finding out that the two of you were going to have a girl, it was time to tell your families and friends, and they had nothing but sweet and wise words of advice. Everyone kept saying to you privately that they could see you being a great mom to a boy or a girl, but that Tim would be especially good with a girl. For some reason, it just made sense, and you could not help but agree with them. He was always just so tender and sweet with everyone he meets, and he treated you like a fragile piece of glass when he interacted with you, giving you the utmost care. You would not be surprised if that happened with your baby, but ten-fold.

This day at the museum was nothing out of the ordinary – paperwork, some smaller tours, things of that nature. You did not mind though. With how far along you were getting, nearing the third trimester already, you were starting to constantly feeling tired. So, being able to lounge on Tim’s office couch and just doze off or read a little bit was always a nice feeling.

At one point though, someone had knocked on the door while Tim was out, and you honestly were not sure if you should answer. That situation, despite how long the two of you had been together, had not come up since the first time. The first time it was just a package for him, so it was not a big deal, but you could never be sure who it was, since his door did not have a peephole.

You carefully stood up on your own, not used to not having Tim right by your side to help you, and answered the door. Standing behind it was a very cheery Jerry, Tim’s boss.

“Y/N? I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“Timmy is off with an intern explaining something he did wrong.” You both laughed at the idea of Tim being all nervous and jittery about something being wrong. “Would I be able to help you with what you needed?”

“Actually, the whole reason I came was for you, but I was just going to have him give you this.” Jerry handed you an envelope that felt extremely thin, but you did not question it one bit. Jerry had his ways of explaining himself sooner or later. “Just read that whenever you get a chance, dear. I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

“Alright. Should I—”

And he shut the door behind him, leaving you with your mouth agape.

So, you decided now was a good a time as any, since Tim was not there still to keep you company. You sat back down, carefully, onto his couch and opened the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, with hardly 15 sentences on it. You read it slowly and quietly to yourself, and when you had finished, Tim walked back through the door. He was met with the site of you crying silently and red-rimmed eyes. Immediately he was by your side asking you if you were okay and if the baby was hurt. You just looked up at him wearily but forcing a smile on your face while sliding the letter in his direction. Tim read aloud.

“Dearest Murphy’s,

I hope this letter finds you at a happy time, or maybe, it would be better when you’re slightly sad and could be a pick-me-up of sorts. I would like to make this short and sweet, so as not to take much up of your time. First and foremost, I would like to offer you a piece of advice – frankly, it is what I would call the best piece of parenting advice one could receive, especially as first-time parents. ‘Protect the child at all costs, but do not prevent them from exploring potential.’ Pretty self-explanatory, but in case it isn’t clear – please keep the child safe at whatever cost, but if they express sincere interest in something and there is no inherent danger involved, even if it makes you anxious at first, don’t squander it. Children are so precious, and their minds take in everything, despite what you may think, and preventing the child from expressing themselves is only going to make them despise you and want to do everything in the opposite way you told them to. Secondly, I would like to offer Tim paid paternal-leave for as long as you are earning yours from your employer – we will match the length of time. Plus, as a bonus from the entire museum staff for all you two have done over the years for us, a small token of our gratitude is enclosed here that I sincerely hope will help you throughout the beginning of this journey.

I sincerely treasure you both as human beings, and I wish you all the luck with your little family.

Sincerely yours,

Jerry Turner, CFO Cretaceous and Jurassic Periods at American Museum of Natural History”

Tim was still at a loss for what had made you cry, and then he saw the ‘small token of their gratitude.’

A check.

For $10,000.

Both you and Tim were sobbing. Loudly.

You could not believe it, because that would cover so much more than you could have ever imagined, and neither of you were quite sure what you did to earn such a thoughtful and extremely generous gift. You wanted to thank Jerry, but you had no idea where he ran off to, and you two were so overwhelmed by the gift that neither of you had the strength to move.

Little did you know that Jerry had watched Tim walk back in his office and was outside the door hearing how happy you were, and his heart swelled up.

You took the monthly picture, tears still streaking down your cheeks. You looked ethereal, despite the tears.

[Seven Months]

Officially within your third and final trimester, things were getting down to the wire. You had stopped all the various side-effects of pregnancy, and all that was left was the constant sluggishness. Tim did not want you drinking too much caffeine, so he cut back as well. You were constantly having the energy sucked out of you, but Tim kept going a mile a minute, somehow, considering the boy lived off of tea and the occasional coffee if he really needed it. You assumed it was nervous jitters knowing how close you two were getting to meeting the little one.

You had arrived at the museum early, and Tim had gotten all of his paperwork done the day before so he could spend the day walking around the museum with you, seemingly with a plan in mind.

Every time you would arrive at a new exhibit, Tim would drop down to his knees, and he would gently lay his head down onto your belly. Then he would start talking. Anything he could say about the exhibit – reading the signs, spewing random bits of knowledge here and there, whatever he could think of. After he did this about four times, you stopped him and asked him just what it was he was doing.

“I’m talking to her.”

You just looked at him sweetly, almost tearing up at the sentiment.

“Gotta start her early, don’t I? Can’t have her being into mathematics like her mother.”

And then came the eye roll. You almost did not let him take the picture that night because of that little gripe at your job.

[Eight Months]

It was hard for the two of you to believe you were down to the last potential thirty days, but you were already there. The two of you were both planners, so every single thing that could be accounted for was already accounted for – she had a room, clothes, diapers, everything. The two of you went and took your monthly picture, wondering if you would get to take another one, when it hit Tim that the two of you missed something crucial in your planning.

“Oh shit.” “What?”

“We don’t have a name yet.”

“Oh shit.”

Sitting down on the bench looking into the exhibit, you both thought about it for a while, throwing out ideas neither of you liked. Just to put something out there and maybe draw inspiration. Then Tim suggested another two names, and instantly you knew they were the ones. Both of you were old fashioned, and you knew you were going to get some comments about it, but it did not matter.

This was your daughter, and you could name her whatever you damn well pleased.

[Eight Months and Twenty-Two Days, June 11]

It was so much pain.

So much more pain than you expected.

But dammit, you were going to meet your daughter today, and that was that.

You honestly could not even remember the drive to the hospital, but the next thing you knew, you were in a hospital gown with a doctor telling you that you were nine centimeters dilated and that the pushing would start soon. Despite everything you told him was going to happen, Tim was right by your side gripping your hand like a vice, with an expression on his face that made the doctors think he was in as much pain as you were.

But it went quicker than you thought it would. That final centimeter happened quick, and everyone in the room was on you in an instant to coach you through the pushing. You only had to push for about 15 minutes and then you heard it.

Small but powerful cries, indicating that the baby was here and healthy.

Immediately she was on your chest and they were starting to clean her up, and then they took her over to the crib to wrap her. You were still catching your breath when you saw Tim walk over to you, bundle in his hands, him sobbing with joy.

“She’s—”

“Gorgeous.”

The nurse came over to the both of you with a clipboard after a few minutes, now that both of you had calmed down lightly.

“Alrighty. So, we have a healthy baby girl, born June 11 at 4:49am, weighing 6.1 ounces and measuring 20 inches in length. We have all the other stuff taken care of, we just need to know if she has a name yet.”

“She does.” Tim looked so proud that he was the one who got to say it for the official birth certificate.

“Agnes Eloise Murphy.”

The nurse smiled, double checked the spelling, and walked off to file it. You were just gazing at him with almost a hint of fear in your tired expression, because something the nurse had said threw you off a bit.

“Timmy…”

“Hm?” He was still gazing down at Agnes, not really mentally with you at that moment.

“Do you realize what today is? What her birthday is?”

“I do.”

“And you’re okay?”

“Of course I am. I will never have to remember the horror of Jurassic Park on this day any longer, she is a distraction from that nightmare, she is a living, breathing dream come true.”

[One Month Birthday]

Agnes turned one month old, and neither of you could believe it. Other than doctor’s appointments, she had not left your apartment. You both decided that she could make one exception, and Tim was more than eager to take her to the place where he found out she would be coming into this world.

The two of you took her around the entire place, and ended at the exhibit where all the pregnancy photos were taken.

“You don’t know it yet, but this place has a lot of special meaning to mommy and daddy, and you too. We’ll tell you all about it when you’re older, lovebug.” Tim spoke to his daughter the same way he did when she was still in your belly and it made you melt. You knew it from the moment you laid eyes on her that she was going to be a daddy’s girl.

As he spoke to her, she smiled and placed a hand right atop the scar adorning Tim’s cheek. She laughed for the very first time.

“I told you she’d love them.”

When you look back down, you can see her enthusiastically swinging around the small dinosaur plush toy you had given her as a first stuffed animal. You smiled and looked back up at Tim, not believing how precious she was.

“And a dinosaur lover just like her dad, too.”

“Told you we had to start her early, keep her away from the numbers.”

Permanent Taglist: @bensrhapsody @chlobo6 @gardnerlangway @xtrashmammalstefx @bohemiandeakyy

Tim Murphy Taglist: @drtimmurphy

Specific Fic Taglist: @70sdeakys

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

#tim murphy #tim murphy x reader #jurassic park #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #pregnant reader #photography #fic #fanfiction #fluff #pregnancy #some angst

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5-of-spades · 5 years

Text

IkeRev Cradlesona

Here it is finally, it’s lacking pictures for now, only until I am back home and can doodle something out; this will be updated;;; thanks for everyone who posted their Cradlesonas before and gave me a boost to do it too 😭😭😭 and for @lovingsiriusoswald for starting the craze and to @msquercusalba for listening to my rambles over her before I actually made this

Maybe this is more of an OC than a Cradlesona??

Sample pictures before I’m able to produce some myself ; made using picrew makers [2] [2] [2]

Cradlesona: Elise Marlowe

Basic Info:

Nicknames: Elí (family only; Edgar Bright is an exception to the rule)

Birthday: 27th of August

Age: 27

Height: 177 cm | 5’ 9’’

Blood Type: 0-

Physical:

Eyes: Greyish-blue

Hair: Silver

Accessories: Long hanging earrings, family ring on her left hand with family crest

Features: Fair skin tone, long silver hair reaching slightly over her shoulders, almond shaped eyes

Illnesses: None

Social:

Affiliation: Red Army / Red territory

Occupations: Youngest daughter of the family, in line to take over family’s pharmacy

Relationships:

Lancelot Kingsley - can’t call him a friend, can’t call his an acquaintance either, had known and met his since childhood (as well as other army officers); has only recently realised her feelings for him and tries to suppress them from surfacing and being obvious

Jonah Clemence - old school colleague, has a great deal of respect for him and his opinions but does think he can be overwhelming to deal with at times

Edgar Bright - finds him a bit eccentric but charming and amusing, had tutored him with chemicals under Claudius Bright’s request, considers him somewhat a friend and meets occasionally for a cup of tea

Kyle Ash - highly agrees with him on his morals and admires his dedication for his profession, has collaborated with him on formations of new medicines

Zero - unsure what she feels about him, he’s the only officer she hadn’t met during childhood and doesn’t feel he wants to meet her, get a change of heart after her ‘brother’ tells her what Zero is really like

Blanc Lapin - as an old family fiend, can remember him from childhood visits to her home, holds him in high regards

Oliver Knight - only heard about the man and his renowned inventions from Blanc and social circle talk but had never met him in person

Ray Blackwell - no opinion so far, knows he’s the opposing side’s King

Sirius Oswald - no opinion so far, only knows little what she had seen of hi during school and what Lancelot and Jonah had told her about him, and it’s hard to figure out what’s the truth and what’s a lie

Luka Clemence - despite his betrayal she isn’t hostile towards him, mainly because Edgar’s reports when he manages to get in touch with Luka, can’t understand why he left

Seth Hyde - knows nothing about him, only his position in the army thanks to Edgar’s intel, no opinion so far

Fenrir Godspeed - knows him due to family name and Edgar’s reports, had seen him around Civic Center but has never interacted with him, no opinion so far

Harr Silver - knows of him because she had seen him around Lancelot and Sirius but he’s a mystery to her, ever since he was pronounced an outlaw she is afraid to run into him, not a positive opinion

Loki Genetta - has only heard rumours about him and isn’t sure he is real, no opinion so far

Personality: Gentle and caring would be the best words to describe Elise Marlowe. The traits very unusual in her family, yet the soft spoken and sweet girl is always with a smile on her face and a forever optimist. Raised in a family of high expectations and a legacy to bear, Elise is very goal-oriented and will find the way to achieve her goals. But unlike the rest of her family, she would never use someone for her own gain. It’s against her morals and she can’t bring herself to harm anyone, no matter their deeds.

Elise is the baby of the family and had always been spoiled but instead of making her into a brat, it further enhanced her inner feeling of needing to give back to the less fortunate than her. Having shown a talent for chemistry and alchemy early on and seeing the possibilities she can use it to help others. She is a very curious woman that could get lost in books or whatever subject she finds interesting.

Aside her good and caring side, she can be stubborn and easily scared of situations she can’t understand. She is not used to not know what’s happening and when something strays from her norm it scares her. She can be too hard-pressed on something to give up, even knowing it’s in vain. Sometimes she can get overly sensitive and let her emotions make decisions rather than her mind. She believes in “actions speak more than words”

In short, Elise is a selfless and caring person that wants to help but sometimes acts before she thinks.

Family and History: Youngest of three children of family, Elise had a childhood many would be envy of. Her family had held the position of 10 of Hearts for generations and had strict rules about which child will inherit the prestigious title of future 10. Marlowes have been among the first families to be established as part of the Red Army in Cradle’s beginnings and have further secured their position by handling pharmaceuticals and providing alchemy services to the citizens. The founder of the family, Augustus Marlowe, established first ever pharmacy in Cradle and his books are used in education of future alchemists and pharmacists. As a founder, he had set rules his descendants were obligated to follow. One of them were to marry people from strickly choosen families to avoid diluting the bloodline. Thanks to this, Marlowe family is also renowned for all family members having eye-catching silver hair and each generation has to provide 3 offspring, of which one has to be a male. These and many more were the rigorous rules that have to be followed.

As the youngest, Elise was utterly spoiled by both her parents and her brother and sister. She got everything she set her eyes on and pointed at with her finger. Despite the overwhelming spoils, she was raised with proper manners and her sister insisted that she should hold herself with dignity and not let her desires get a better or her. Her brother, who is expected to inherit the position of 10 of Hearts, has often read to her and greatly influenced her fashion sense. All three of them used to be close until the fallout between the older siblings. Now, she only remains close with her brother.

As a rule, 3 children are an obligation for Marlowe family. One for the army, one for the alchemy and one for the pharmacy. All children are free to choose which profession they’ll follow, provided that the oldest male heir is sent to the army. At the young age, Elise showed a remarkable talent for chemistry. She was a much quicker learner than the older siblings and her family was overjoyed to have decided on her future so early on. It was a good thing she enjoyed what her future role will ask of her. It only came to finding her a perfect husband down the road.

As a child of nobility and high officer, she had the opportunity to meet with higher and lower ranked officers and through that had met Lancelot, Jonah and Edgar and Luka and later on, Kyle. Same age as Jonah, she attended the same school and same class he had and developed a friendship with the future Queen of Hearts and held his little brother in high regard all up until his betrayal. Due to how her family took a stance against the Clemence family, their friendship took a hit and now, they are slowly trying to bridge that gap. Future Jack had her be his tutor with chemistry outside the school on Claudius Bright’s request for Edgar’s future missions. Through that, she bonded with Edgar and they remained good friends.

Having graduated and set to inherit her family’s pharmacy when her aunt retires, Elise had been put to immense studying for her future job. She found joy in her studies and gladly took everything she was given and looked for some more afterwards. Elise is still very much lives a life she wants and already decided for her, and even if she likes it it, she can’t help feel it’s suffocating to live it.

Skills and Special Abilities:

Extensive knowledge of chemistry and alchemy

Quick reader

Can play the viola

Paired with: Lancelot Kingsley (one-sided ?)*

Life in Cradle: During the day, Elise is tasked with overlooking the family internary and accounting for everything that is lacking. Afterwards she is scheduled for studying for her future employment until lunch. Afterwards she’s usually helping her aunt in the pharmacy. After closing time she is always making sure she visits her ‘brother’ in the barracks. Secretly she sends small medicines or gifts over him to the King, Queen and Jack. She hopes it finds them well. Recently she found that her feelings for the young King of Hearts have resurfaced after seeing him more and more after her ‘brother’s’ enrolment into the army and her heart undeniably skipping a beat. Alas, she knows he is not her intended groom in the future, and if Marlowe puts something above themselves, it’s the family tradition.

* On Elise’s feelings towards Lancelot

Elise had known Lancelot since they were kids throughout various social events her family was invited to along with other families from the red territory. She had considered him a friend but she has never outright called him that, since he was raised to respect him above everything else. As children both were happy to see each other and just have a playmate they could play with before knowing their duty will take over their lives.

That continued through the school years up until they both respectfully graduated. Elise has helped Lancelot with a few tutoring sessions with some of his subjects and had gotten close to him again, just as there were as kids, but has always been more content as his silent supporter from behind. She had also enjoyed making small gifts in form of healthy snacks for him and Jonah when they were all still close back then. At 17, it was the first time she realised she had feelings for him. She didn’t know how it happened but she knew her feelings were strong enough for her to call it live. She fell in love with him due to Lancelot’s selfless actions and kindness, that wasn’t always so obvious at first, but mainly due to what a strong person he was. She admired him for managing to not let his emotions sway him upon his dad’s death, that he carefully considered the best way he could go about things without inconveniencing or causing harm to anybody. And above all, for making a tough decisions when he absolutely had to. Elise knew she never could do that were she in his place, she was far too emotional to be able to think rationality in a situation like so. For most part she idolised him, wanted to be more than friends but she knew she could never. Not only was there a hierarchical difference, she had already been bethroed to someone else.

And yet, she wrote him a letter, detailing her feelings for him in it and left it for him to find. Unsigned of course and let her feelings subside and dull over time, all the while convincing herself that it she had ever told him how she felt it would just end up in rejection. She had wondered if he maybe felt the same way when she had caugh his glace to her over the hallways and during their tutoring. She hoped his small acts of kindness to her meant more than just that. But she didn’t want to be selfish, her sister taught her better than that. She should be happy just being his friend and living to see him rise to the throne to rule. And she was. She convinced herself that she was happy being able to support Lancelot during his reign as a new King of Hearts.

She truly had tired to love her choosen husband. He wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t do anything to hurt her or make her feel awful for having feelings for another man. He was too good for her and Elise pitied the man. She was still going to go through the wedding when the time comes and tried to erase all feelings about Lancelot from her heart. After all, she is a Marlowe, and a Marlowe always follows the family duty. She had almost done it until her ‘brother’ joined the army and asked for her to visit on a daily basis under the pretense of ‘using her knowledge to help Red Army advance.’ Even if it was just a ploy, she was still happy and eager to help. That’s when she met Kyle through her ‘brother’ and had all the more reasons to visit the barracks. That’s when she had encountered Lancelot again one night in the hallway after having discussed with Kyle about new possible medical solutions. Seeing him again after years and exchanging just a few words had lit a flame inside her once again. Visiting barracks for work bacame the perfect excuse to see him again and have just a greeting between them. Now older and more mature, Elise knows she could never stand by his side as his choosen one but she still hasn’t given up on supporting him till the end. It’s was she has to do.

But so far, she hasn’t received any complains on sending him gifts again after all those years.

#cradlesona #ikemen revolution cradlesona #elise cradlesona #cradlesona oc #ikemen revolution #ikerev #boy this got long #im going to hate this in a few hours #cant belive i actually have to make the rest of thr family for this to make sense #if anyone read this through the end #you a true mvp #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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sophocused · 5 years

Text

uni recap 2019

I think it's really important for young studyblrs still in high school or junior high to be exposed to more detailed and honest uni experience anecdotes, so buckle up because it’s about to get real honest and a little personal in here.

I'm in the middle of the fall term of my second uni year, technically now in the 2nd year of my general B.Sc. and I need to start from the beginning a little bit, especially when it comes to my academic journey so far.

Let's start with junior high, when adults always want to ask what you want to be when you grow up. After going to a career symposium with friends, a field trip run by the school, that's when I heard about the College of Pharmacy at the "top" university of the province.

First thing that attracted me was that they make an annual $100k a year, and to my 14 year old impressionable mind that was convinced that my future had to revolve around making bank, I decided from there that I would work towards the end goal of becoming a pharmacist.

I was convinced that pharmacy was the ultimate goal to get my life going, as a real functioning adult of society.

Fortunately, I was wrong. It was a hard pill to swallow, but a necessary one nonetheless.

Since this is an academic recap, I won't bring up the mental health and physical health bits of the last eight years of my life, I'll fastforward to high school senior year, when I decided I would (as a minimal effort-get straight A's student) actually TRY in my studies again. It was because my work ethic had grown to a point that when I didn't try and still got a B or A, I was scared of the moment I would actually try and then not get an A or A+. I wanted to fight that fear of realizing that I'm not "effortlessly good at thngs" because I didnt want to have a fear of failure.

(Disclaimer: it's been three years since then and I'm still a work in progress when it comes to my relationship with failures but it is getting consistently healthier, despite bumps)

Thus, I started this studyblr three years ago, June 30th 2016 I believe?? My url was chemystery for the first few days but sophocused came up because of sophocles (not that hes my fave philosopher or anything) it just stuck ANYWAY IM GETTING DISTRACTED

So I actually tried in my last year of high school, worked hard and got A's in physics, pre-calculus, and AP chemistry. The AP chemistry came with a provincial exam, that in getting a score of 4, granted me a $150 reward, and the grade of a B in two university courses (2 chem prerequisites)

I was a fool and no one exactly explained to me that those 2 courses were even harder when taught through uni, because I really wasted nearly $1000 in taking those two courses again in my first year of uni, in hopes of turning them into A's.

I should probably mention that going into uni, the pharmacy program had 2 chem, 2 bio, 1 calc, 1 written course, and 2 electives, as prerequisites. My innocent mind, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal, registered for a full five and five course load, so that I could finish all my prerequisites within my first year of uni, and apply for the college of pharmacy by March. (Back then, it was still a Bachelor's program where selection process depended on your AGPA, and your mark on a written critical skills essay)

I learned the hard way that for university, it is a mentally and emotionally laborious task to try and juggle five classes, having to hold yourself accountable when it comes to attendance and figuring out what notes you want to take. There's no way to write physical hand-written notes for five courses (not for me anyway).

It was incredibly fast-paced as well, and I had many days where I just didn't want to get out of bed. I was so conflicted with my perfectionist mindset, and the pressure to get a 4.0 GPA that I spread myself so thin and honestly it was one of the most difficult years of my life. I still got out with 8 B's and 2 A's by the end of my first year. I was ashamed of those B's.

When it came to applying for pharmacy however, despite the grades I got, my GPA didn't make it to the minimum 3.50 needed to be applicable for pharmacy, but I got my transcript a month after I had already applied for pharmacy and I had even done the written exam.

I had to face my first big failure which was getting the email that they couldnt even look over or consider my application because my GPA did not reach the minimum required.

On top of that, I learned that I could not just simply try again the next year. This was because suddenly, the university decided they were going to change the Bachelors pharmacy program into a PharmD. A doctorate. To me, that meant they added eight more prerequisites (even more difficult uni courses with chem and human phys), and a required PCAT score. We also were not allowed to apply until Fall 2020. That meant, I now suddenly had no plan for my academic career for the next two years because I had really only ever thought about getting into pharmacy on the first try.

After a breakdown or two last year upon processing this, I had made the decision and talked to my parents about trying for it again, and doing the new prerequisites. This brought in the new mental turmoil of money on my mind during my summer after first year of uni, thousands of dollars this would cost, suddenly having no routine for four months after working at max brain capacity for 6 months.

My 2nd year of uni, fall 2018, a lot of growing had happened, a lot of processing of failure happened, just. a lot. happened.

October 2018, I got a job at a school, so I really juggled my school stuff with work. Five days a week, I would be up at 6-7am and then get home around 6:30pm, while doing human physiology, organic chemistry 1, an eastern religions elective, and an intro to statistics course.

long story short, yes I must spare you the details of the process of it all because it got pretty sad. That was my worst uni term, ending with 1 B, 1 C+, 1 C, and an F in organic chem.

My first F in university. My first F ever in my entire school life. It was a begrudging blow at my mental state, and I spent two to three weeks devastated. I dont know how I got out of it, I think one day I just said to myself, "Okay you got an F, but did you die?"

Honestly, the humour in that really cheered me up, among other things, and the emotional support I got from my older sister, and by the time I got into the 2nd half of my uni year (right now), I have discovered I potentially have a calling to become a teacher or to work in the lab as a technician.

Most importantly, most if not all of the credits I've earned, are also applicable to get into the Faculty of Education. Basically, I came to peace with having options, and digging deep into myself to really find the thing that I could really see myself doing based on my personality and interests, not just on the money and the rush of finishing school.

I just finished the longest midterm season of winter 2019, with my first midterm being early February and my last midterm + essay deadline on March 15th... I did well. I did well in trying to really take care of myself while trying to go to every class and trying to work hard as much as I could everyday. I think out of my many midterms, I got 1 A, 4 B's, and a C. These are all salvageable. I do still really want to keep working towards a 4.5 GPA but now I'm okay if that doesnt always turn out to be what I get.

Anyway I finally get to write something like this because I've been busy for the past month, a lot of things happened again in the midst of it all, but I'm still okay. I get a week to rest before my lab exam and then it's finals season.

This time, I'll try hard not to just let my life pass me by, with only ever school and academics in mind, I had gotten really sad these past few weeks, and I'm usually good at being my own antidote for that, but I really got to a point where I felt I had no strength to pick myself back up.

Last night I said "fuck it" and decided to go to my cousin's house who I hadn't seen in over a month to spend time with them instead of working on my 30% essay due midnight. Before I was so desperate to finish it, terrified of the 2% deduction per day it would be late, but after crying on the bus, I had had enough of letting my academics bring this much weight on my mental health. After spending four hours with my cousins and aunt, I came home to my mom, and I watched a two hour movie with her.

I didn't regret it one bit. I felt better than I had in a long, long while.

Now, this Friday, my grandma and other cousin are flying in, and I cant wait to just keep healing.

Thank you for reading, or scanning over, I hope you got something good out of this, as I am telling this story both for my sake, and for other students’ who might commonly find themselves in the same boat. I believe in you.

#nina rambles #march 17 2019 #happy st. patrick's day #studyblr #studyblr tips #uni studyblr #university stories #university ramble #uni student #uni diaries #college struggles #uni struggles

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micropenisunveiled-blog · 5 years

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SPH & COMING OUT OF THE SMALL PENIS CLOSET

It is safe to say that most men who have a small penis have thought about whether or not to keep it secret or spill the beans. Coming out of the Small Dick Closet is a decision that each individual must make for himself. Quite honestly it is not safe for all gay men to come out of the closet. Similarly once you disclose that you have small penis that information has a tendency to become known.

For some men, fantasizing about being outed becomes the stuff of a fetish. I find the topic of Small Penis Humiliation (SPH) quite interesting. Certainly not all men with small penises have desire to be teased or humiliated, but there is a very real portion of the small penis population that seem to enjoy it. Based on conversations I have had with such men the SPH fetish seems to begin with the onset of adulthood. I have received a number of personal emails on this subject, from some men who are really turned on by this dynamic. This is a topic worthy of serious consideration for that group of men who enjoy teasing and outing. Despite my attempts to research this topic I have found very little in the way of research into the dynamics of this particular fetish.

Why Do Men Enjoy SPH? While I have found no scientific studies about this phenomenon, my own inquiries have revealed than in every case, the men with this fetish had experienced fairly significant ridicule, humiliation, or other abuse connected to their smaller endowment during childhood or their teenage years.

I have spoken with several men who have told me that their SPH fetish began for them in their teens, during gym class. They generally had experiences with boys in gym pointing and laughing. in some cases they were ridiculed by girls who had learned of their endowment from indiscrete peers. One man told me that a peer touched him, forced him to touch the other boy’s penis, made him masturbate, and called him queer.

While this is a terrible testament to the cruelty of teenagers, the men I spoke with grew past it. However, in coping with these experiences of ridicule, they began associating small penises with humiliation, and eventually with sexual pleasure. Since many, many people enjoy humiliation or degradation play as part of BDSM, I can see how this would make sense.

Most of us who live with a small penis spent some period in our lives diligently covering it up. Some men forgo participation in high school sports, remain chaste, refuse to change in public facilities, or otherwise work to keep their little secret just that, a secret. For those of us who have been outed--by family, girlfriends, boyfriends, team mates, school friends, etc. the consequences can be debilitating.

Do Men Subject to SPH Get Their Feelings Hurt?

Of the men I have spoken with, they all told me that it had hurt their feelings at first, but over the years they eventually they grew immune to it. One said he just realized he couldn't help it, as he could his weight or his hair color, and decided not to worry about it but enjoy getting the SPH attention he craved.

My Own Outing!

When I was outed in my sophomore year at school by bullies on a sports team, by shoving me out of the locker room naked into a gym full of other students, the three bullies got suspension for three days, but I served the life sentence. Basically the beans got spilled and my secret became common knowledge. I became an instant pariah, an object of ridicule, and social outcaste. Former friends avoided me because they didn’t want to be associated with me and become ridiculed themselves. Even my brother had a tantrum telling me that he wished he weren’t my brother because people assumed he also possessed a smaller endowment. So the consequences of an actual, real life outing, can be ego shattering. I never really recovered my social standing in school as there was always some bully who used my personal characteristics to put me down to build himself up. Also i had not yet learned how to “shrug off” teasing, and by reacting to it only made matters worse for myself. That’s the way it works.

Then Why Come Out Of The Small Penis Closet?

Given the reality of the negative consequences, why is it so arousing for some small endowed guys, to imagine themselves outed. Part of my theory is that in these cases the smaller endowed man is actually exhibiting some control in the outing process, which he believes in inevitable. For others the teasing has been linked to sexual activity, a potent reinforcer, so the fetish has basically been classically conditioned into being. For others, the actuality of being outed, is actually less anxiety provoking than managing the secret.

In the gay world, men do not come out of the gay closet to enlighten the world, they do it to feel better about themselves. At some point the gay man realizes that his own self esteem is taking more damage from his closeted status than from anything the world might actually send his way.

No one has any right to know about the size of your penis except your lover, so outing yourself is truly a personal decision, not a political one. However, when the truth gets withheld because of a self perception that your penis is shameful or inadequate, then at that point you’re just damaging yourself. Hiding a truth always most damages the person hiding the truth.

Men with a small penis on some level inherently realize that hiding the truth is not in their best interest and may begin to imaging how they would out themselves. Imaging these scenarios allows the individual to exert some control in a situation which feels out of control. So, why does even the mere possibility of it happening excite so many guys? This is another one of those no “one size fits all” answer.

So, how is a guy “outed?”

Well, the possibilities are really endless. Here are a few of the more common ways:

A close girlfriend (or confidant):

This is probably the most common scenario. Your wife tells her BFF that you have a small penis and requests that she doesn’t tell anyone else. The wife then tells her small endowed hubby/partner that her BFF knows, and it’s almost like the erotic gift that keeps on giving because from that point forward every time the hubby/partner sees the BFF it provides him with an ongoing source of both excitement and/or angst.

Multiple Girlfriends:

One man I have spoken with told me that he dreamed about being outed by his girlfriend to a group of her friends. He knew it was just a dream, but it left him feeling very uncomfortable. And no wonder he woke up uncomfortable, because now, his whole social circle of female friends knows about his secret. While he might be excited about this happening, and it might provide him an ongoing source of masturbation fodder, the ramifications of such a disclosure would no doubt be far reaching.

A Stranger:

One friend tells me about his girlfriend taking the initiative at a small town drug store to buy condoms, and at the counter asked the pharmacist, ion the presence of other patrons standing nearby “Do you have any small-sized condoms for my boyfriend?” He told me that he be felt himself blush with embarrassment as everyone turned to look at him and literally gulped. In this case he was outed by his girlfriend to a stranger in hi small town, where he knew that rumor would get retold. He heard all of it with his own ears and even saw the expression (probably a smile) on the female clerk’s face.

What are the risks of being Outed?

Many guys who expressed they desire to be outed also made it very clear they would want it done in a “controlled” way. But given human nature there is nothing controlled about the process. The only way to keep a secret it to keep it to yourself. Like sending a nude photo of yourself to a friend, you lose all control over it the moment you hit “send”. You are at the mercy of that friends discretion. And for the most part, humans are not very discrete.

People like to talk about “scandalous” news. People do this for many reasons. When your male friends make fun of your small penis, they are simultaneously casting themselves as “normal” or “endowed” men into a superior caste. Bullying has always been around, and I suspect it always will.

There are some very real consequences. Social ostracism, especially if you are in high school, been “perceived” differently by friends in the know, being teased, being ridiculed, sexual discrimination, or just being treated “differently” than how you were treated before. All of that can happen.

What are the Benefits?

When gay people began to come out and become recognized as “contributing citizens” and “role models” things began to change. However things do change slowly. Most men believe that any penis under 6 inches is “small”, when in fact recent studies have concluded that 5.17 inches in length and 4.6 inches in girth are true “average”. Statistically is you are average 90% of guys will be between 1.15" shorter or 1.11" longer than you. For years many men have believed that their 5 1/2inch penis was substandard, when in fact they were well within the biological norm. As men with small dicks stand up to be counted social norms will begin to change, but again social evolution is a slow process.

So What Can You Do?

Be true to yourself. Learn to channel your strengths and minimize your focus on your weaknesses. As much as our popular culture will foist the notion that you are no better than your penis, it just isn’t true. But now you have to convince other people of that. The only way to do that is when you believe it yourself. When you become self confident everything changes. People stop teasing you and start respecting you. Confidence, more than any other quality, determines the likelihood of success. Women identify “confidence” as a key attribute in attractiveness.

So What If You Enjoy SPH?

Be true to yourself. It is normal to have a fetish. Assuming it is not harmful, indulge in your fetish. And while a fetish isn’t harmful, if gets out of hand, it can be trouble. It can drive you and your sex life. Soon, it may also drive away the people close to you. You don’t have to deal with a fetish all your life. Here are a few signs that a small penis fetish is out of control:

It’s all you ever think about.

It makes you lose your concentration, and you start performing poorly at work or school because of it.

It comes up at random moments. Even when you’re not thinking about anything arousing, it comes to your mind.

It’s ruining your relationship or preventing you from being in a relationship.

You’re starting to drive your romantic partner crazy because of it, leading to arguments, misunderstandings and awkwardness during sex.

Some steps you can take to address a fetish are:

Confide in someone

Seek professional help which may include psychoanalysis, cognitive therapy, hypnosis, or

Stop engaging in the habit (easier said that done, ask anyone in NA,OA or AA).

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