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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

can you write something about cheating harry and yn acting like a proper couple in front of anna, like harry with his arm around her and kissing her head and stuff, and anna is just standing there fuming and maybe tries to get physical with yn

Love Your Broken Pieces

warnings: cheating; mentions of trauma and domestic abuse

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YN really really didn’t want to go out.

She wasn’t going to tell Harry that because it was a celebratory dinner for him because he’d just won Entrperur of the yearand she wasn’t going to ruin it.

It’s not that she didn’t want to celebrate his achievement.

She was so so proud of him but her therapy session had got moved up a day because the therapist had to go out of town.

YN didn’t want to bother him so she had went herself without telling him.

It was trauma-focused therapy which meant it was intensive, draining, and overall triggering at time.

Today had sparked a new memory that she had suppressed and she was really struggling to get through the day without his support.

She shouldn’t need him for everything. It wasn’t fair to him.

So she’d sat on her bed for thirty minutes before she managed to pull on a nice dress before curling her hair - zoning out and accidentally burning herself lightly.

Harry had to pick up Anna, offered to pick up YN.

“Hey pup, y’want me t’pick you up on the way?” Harry had called while she was swiping on mascara.

“No, I’ll just Uber,” YN try to keep her tone light but couldn’t stomach sitting in the car with that disgusting woman right now.

“No, let me come get you,” He insists, always preferring to drive her around over some stranger.

“I really don’t want to be in the car with Anna, okay? Just drop it,” YN replies a bit too tersely.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Harry knows her much to well.

She couldn’t help but bristle, “Nothing. I just have to get ready. Okay? I’ll see you there.”

YN shouldn’t have hung up like that but her hands were shaking and it was taking all of her might to pull herself together to go.

“It’s all your fuckin’ fault your mum hates me,” Her dad had spat at her, right in the kitchen after dinner.

“Fuck,” She mumbles to herself as she drops her lipstick and it rolls under the dresser.

—

She canceled two Ubers before she found a driver who didn’t seem intimidating.

It made her fashionably late, everyone already seated, and it doesn’t make it any better when Anna greets her.

“About time. Can’t even make it at a respectable time for your supposed best friend’s dinner.”

Anna and Gemma both make a grimacing face at the rude comment but Harry interrupts before they interject, “S’okay, Uber’s can be a pain in the arse.”

“Er, yeah. The Uber…” YN mumbles lowly, there was an empty seat across from Harry that had been saved for her.

She could feel Harry’s eyes following her, studying her as she kept her head down and looked on the verge of tears.

“You look too much like your goddamn mother.”

“What d’you want to drink?” Harry asks softly, tapping her foot under the table.

“God Harry, she’s not a child,” Anna rolls her eyes as she glances over her menu.

Harry glares over at her with a strict warning glance that she needs to change her attitude or there is gonna be an issue.

“Just water,” YN replies, swallowing hard.

He knows somethings wrong when she doesn’t bite back at her, instead looking down at the menu like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

Harry had already known by the phone call.

There were quite a few people at the dinner, constantly engaging him in conversation as YN kept to herself.

It’s after the appetizer’s arrive that he can’t stand her fake smiles and attempts to seem like she’s enjoying herself.

“Outside, now,” Harry says firmly, not a question but a statement.

“Harry, don’t,” Anna huffs, not liking the private attention her enemy is about to get.

“I don’t remember askin’ you,” He hisses under his breath before following YN’s retreating figure to the main entrance.

They end up in the small alleyway, “Tell me what’s going on.”

YN’s eyes are moody, putting back on a nonchalant expression that would work for anyone but him, “I’m fine, I don’t know why you’re making a big deal. Let’s go enjoy your dinner.”

Harry backs her up against the brick wall, hand over her shoulder, “We’re not goin’ anywhere until you tel me. M’not stupid.”

It triggers something because she starts sniffling, whispers, “You’re going to be mad at me.”

His hard facial features relax, pressing his forehead to hers, “Please pup, y’know I love you no matter what.”

“My therapist moved our session to today. I went and uh…” YN begins to full on cry, burying her face in her hands.

“C’mon, tell me,” He encourages softly.

“It triggered a repressed memory. I…I didn’t want to ruin tonight for you. I fuck up everything for you already,” She chokes out, letting him pry her hands away.

“Puppy,” He murmurs with a laugh of disbelief, “I fuckin’ wake up everyday because of you. You make my life worth livin’. I’m not happy unless y’are.”

“I just…didn’t want tonight to go like this,” YN sighs quietly, “One night without my trauma.”

“Hey, hey. We’re workin’ through it together, yeah? It takes time. Y’made the effort to come and that means more to me than anything else,” He says truthfully, tilting her chin up.

Harry melts a bit when she leans up to give him a lightening fast peck, “I am so proud of all your accomplishments.”

“Wouldn’t have done any of it without you, sweet girl,” He rubs a thumb under her eye to wipe off a streak of makeup.

They stand outside for a minute longer in a tight hug.

When they walk back into the restaurant, Harry quietly asks Gemma to switch YN seats which she graciously agrees without a fuss.

Anna is shooting daggers at YN while the change happens and Harry pushes in her seat for her.

The whole dinner consists of Anna fuming and hanging on every single movement between the two despite her hand on Harry’s thigh.

When he scoops up a bit of his mashed potatoes and feeds them to YN, laughs when she makes a face at the amount of chives mixed in.

It’s like he doesn’t even noticed the casual arm he occasionally throws around the back of YN’s seat as they chat.

“Harry,” YN scolds with a small smile when he steals a shrimp from her plate when she’s not looking.

Anna had shrimp too and he didn’t look once to do that to her.

“S’good, here, have a bite of m’steak. Know Y’don’t like it rare but s’good. I promise,” He encourages, cutting her a thick piece.

How the fuck did Harry know how YN liked her steak?

He didn’t even remember Anna’s favorite color.

“Y’gettin’ sleepy?” Harry whispers to YN towards the end of the meal, his lips are nearly brushing her ear and Anna pinches his thigh hard.

“Fuck,” Harry replies, flinching away from the pain as he turns to his girlfriend, “Wha’ did you do that for?”

“Can you pay at least a little bit of attention to me? I’m your girlfriend despite how much YN wants to pretend she is,” Anna says haughtily, loud enough for her to hear.

Harry is about to snap on her but instead YN speaks up first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know jealously was on the menu. Eat up, Anna.”

Anna begins to sneer but Harry says, “Why don’t you go take a second in the bathroom? Then we can talk, okay?”

With a little stubbornness, she does - stomping away from the table without looking back at YN who had rolled her eyes.

“Y’on my menu tonight? A bath and cuddle sounds nice,” He offers to his love, thumbing her upper thigh.

“So nice,” YN agrees, “Can we use that sugar cookie bath bomb?”

“Of course, anythin’ you want, m’pup,” Harry hums sweetly, kissing the top of her head.

Anna is walking back when she sees it.

He’s cheating on me.

It flashes through her mind but she pushes it away because she reminds herself that YN is a pathetic little clingy girl who Harry wouldn’t ever like that way.

—

Later that night, Harry holds YN as she recount her memory.

Praises her for being so strong.

Kisses her because he loves her so much it hurts most days.

Assures her that he’ll love her even if she’s never ‘fixed’.

Promises that he’ll never let anyone hurt her again.

—

I’d love feedback 🥺

taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar

#harry styles cheating #cheating!harry blurb #cheating!harry masterlist #cheating!harry

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

#bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou angst #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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ikleesfiction · 3 years

Text

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 1,590 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3

Part 4

Jay whistles as he steps into the Intelligence Unit area the next day. “Good morning!”, greets him to the room. “You’re chirpy today”, his partner, Hailey Upton notices.

“Am I? Isn’t this just a beautiful morning?”, Jay points out to the window. The wind is blowing hard outside and it’s a bit cloudy. Hailey looks at her partner suspiciously. Jay hums happily as he opens a file at his desk.

"Nobody should be that happy looking at a case report", Adam Ruzek comments.

"Have you finished your report from yesterday's case, Ruzek?", Al Olinsky asks his partner

"No. But it's still unbecoming to see", Adam jerks his head to Jay.

"You don't have to be as happy as Halstead there, but get to it!", Al scolds him. Adam grumbly sits on his desk, finishing his report.

◢◤

You're getting ready to leave the clinic after a harsh PT session. Today's exercise left your feet feels sore. As you pack up, your physical therapist comes holding a file in his hand. "Hey, can we talk for a moment?"

"Is everything okay?", you ask him as you see him frowning.

"I've discussed your latest scan with your doctor at Med. I informed them of your progress and current condition. We agree that we need to extend your treatment for another month", he explains to you.

"What? But I feel fine!", you ask him disbelievingly.

"Yeah, but that cramp you got at the swimming pool? We think there's something else that caused it. So just to be safe, we are gonna redo the previous segment again. A month to redo and another month for the last segment", he discloses.

You sit down at the bench, unable to say anything. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know you are eager to go back home to Amsterdam. But we cannot let you go without being 100% sure that you're completely healthy", your trainer tries to console you. "I believe you will do well, Y/N. Two months are going to fly by unnoticed". You just rub your face, trying to hold yourself together. "Alright", since you're not sure what else you can say.

As you arrive back at your place, you know you should've started to cook lunch. But you're not in the mood to do anything else than go hide your pain from the universe under your duvet.

Before you reach your bedroom, your phone rings. Without seeing the caller, you flatly pick it up, "Hello?"

"Uhm, Hi Y/N?", a deep voice sounds unsure on the other line. You recognize that voice and suddenly you feel warm.

"Jay Halstead, Nice to hear your voice", you reply. "It's lovely to hear yours too.", you can hear a smile in Jay's reply.

"Are you on lunch break, Detective Halstead?", you ask him.

"Sort of? I'm leaving the 21st District now to meet my CI. Probably will get a sandwich on the way", Jay informs you.

"No rest for the wicked, eh?", you retort. Jay lets out an infectious laugh that makes you giggle. "Are you busy tonight?", Jay boldly asks.

Temporarily forgetting your pain, you quickly answer, "I haven't been busy in the last two months"

"Wanna go out to dinner with me?", Jay suggests. "Sure. Where to?", you easily agree.

Jay hasn't thought that far before. He only knows that he'd like to see you soon. So he tries a diversion tactic, "Err, it's a surprise. I'll pick you up at 7?"

"Okay. I'll be ready", you say with a smile. "See you tonight", as Jay ends the call.

Talking to Jay made you feel better. Add that with the prospect of date night, you are quite excited now. You change your mind about hiding under the duvet instead you go to your kitchen to cook lunch.

◢◤

Jay sits in the car with Hailey. They are staking out a food truck, where the suspect has been seen to visit frequently. “Hey, what do you think of Mexican food on a first date?”, Jay suddenly asks Hailey.

“You’re asking me out, Halstead?”, Hailey quips back, eyes stay on the food truck.

“What? No! I mean, what do you think if your date takes you to a Mexican restaurant on a first date?”, Jay tries to clarify.

“Well, I like Mexican food. So I wouldn’t mind”, answers Hailey. Jay hums in response.

“But other girls might. Why are you asking me this anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be a slick playboy who can pull anyone?”, Hailey taunts him. Jay protests, “I am not”.

“Yes, you are! And usually, you’re proud of that! This person must’ve been really special if you’re thinking this hard”, Hailey wonders.

“I think she might”, Jay agrees. It’s so softly spoken, Hailey isn’t sure she heard it right. But before Hailey can ask further, “That’s our guy”, Jay says as he got out of the car.

Their suspect turned out to be a dead end. Jay got a bad feeling about this case. So he texts you to cancel the date. Hey, can we take a rain check for tonight?

Is this you bailing on me, Detective?. He's seen your reply, but Jay doesn't have time to answer. He just hopes you understand.

It’s quite late at night, but the Intelligence Unit hasn’t been able to solve the case. So they all stay back at the office, working hard. Jay goes to the break room to refill his coffee mug. He pulls out his phone and calls you as he waits for the coffee to brew.

"Hey, Jay. Catch the bad guy yet?", you ask as you pick up.

"Hi Y/N. Not yet. Seems like it's going to be a long night. I'm sorry we have to reschedule our dinner date", Jay says in regret.

"It's okay. I get it. You told me before right?", you answer patiently.

"It's not my intention to bail. I really want to see you", he sounds disappointed.

"Hey, it's alright. As I say, I'm never busy nowadays. So let me know whenever you have time, we'll make it", you try to comfort him.

"Why are you so lovely?" He gratefully asks you. "Maybe because you are too?", you flirt in response.

Jay sees the coffee is done brewing. He stands up from his chair and one-handedly pours the coffee into his cup. "I gotta go back to work", he informs you halfheartedly.

"Of course. You'll be safe, right Jay?", you request him.

“Yeah, I will. Sleep tight, alright? Dream of me. Bye”, as he disconnects the call.

Hailey enters the break room just as Jay ends his phone call. “I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to see you making kissy noise, Halstead”, Hailey mocks him. Jay just throws a packet of sugar to Hailey’s head and left the room.

The next morning, they feel like they’re getting closer to catch the perp. Jay puts his hand to close his mouth when he feels a big yawn coming. The landline on his desk then rings. “Halstead”, he picks it up.

“Hey, Detective, there’s somebody down here asking to see you”, Trudy Platt on the other line. He’s not sure who would it be, so he’s surprised when he saw you standing in front of Trudy’s desk.

"Hi, Y/N. You’re a sight for sore eyes”, he gives you a hug and a kiss on your cheek.

You grin at Jay, “Hi, Jay. I brought coffee and breakfast for you and the team. I thought you guys could have some meal after working all night. It’s not much, but I hope it slightly helps”.

Jay’s eyes widened in surprise, “Seriously? You are an angel”, Jay kissed you on your forehead.

“I have to go now, my cab is waiting. You’ll be careful, right Jay?”, you inquire him again.

“I will. I’ll call you later, okay? Hope you have a great day!”, Jay gives you one last hug.

“Bye, Sergeant Platt!”, you wave to Trudy, who waves back with the breakfast wrap from you.

“That one is a keeper, Chuckles”, Trudy said to Jay. “Don’t I know it, Sergeant”, Jay noted.

Jay brings the paper bag of breakfast and coffee up to his unit. “I smell good coffee. And food. Why do you have coffee and food, Halstead?”, Adam looks hopefully at Jay.

“Because my girlfriend is a wonderful human being”, as Jay distributes the wrap and coffee. “I didn’t know you have a girlfriend”, Antonio gives his wrap a big bite. “Ooh, I’m so hungry. This tastes great! Thank your girlfriend for me, Halstead”.

Jay sits down to enjoy his breakfast and pulls out his phone to text you. I’m the popular guy at the office now since my girl brought food for us. The team owes you.

Not long before he receives your reply So I’m your girl, now?.

Jay loses a bit of his confidence, Too soon?, he texts back.

We'll see after the dinner date, you vaguely reply.

It isn’t until almost evening, they finally close the case. Jay is doing his report when he hears Antonio saying out of nowhere, “La Sabrosa, great Cuban place near McKinley Park.” Jay ignores him since he's not sure who's Dawson talking to.

“Place looks good, quite intimate. No reservations needed, but there might be a waiting list if you come in the middle of dinner time, Halstead”, he continues. Jay pauses in confusion for a moment. “Upton said you’re looking for a restaurant for a first date”, Antonio simply explained. Jay glares at Hailey. She just puts her hands up apologetically.

“I’ll consider that. Thank you”, Jay simply says.

Next on this fic : Part 5

+x Taglist +x

@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries

#fanfiction #One Chicago #One Chicago Fic #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #hailey upton #adam ruzek #alvin olinsky #antonio dawson #chicago pd tv #chicago pd fic #original work #jay halstead fic #jay halstead imagine #wyftiiffy

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: Our lovers spend one last night together and the next morning have a serious discussion about their future after more new information comes to light about Sy’s upcoming training. Can the new relationship sustain the stress? Are Shane’s feelings justified, or can they overcome what lies before them?

Spoilers suck! Start from the top or wherever you left off HERE!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, smut, angst…well, near angst. As angsty as I get.

Author’s Note: Sorry this has taken so long, my darling dears! I’m currently on vacation and although I was hoping to be inspired by new surroundings, it’s given me WICKED writer’s block! I have a pretty solid plan for more chapters, though, so, buckle up!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

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Sy's last two PT appointments could not have gone better. On paper, anyway. He was at full strength in his injured knee, his range of motion was better than it was in the so-called good knee, and he hadn't complained of pain above a 2/10 in the last five sessions. He'd even been using the treadmill properly the last two weeks, working up to his own goal of running again. Her goals for him were met…they could have probably stopped a session short, but she'd wanted to give him a few more handouts to finalize his HEP…and well, she'd be in major trouble for saying so, but…she couldn't stand the thought of cancelling that last visit. It felt like quitting, even though it would have been justified.

In practice, however, there was a tension between them that had never existed before. Something creating awkward energy that they couldn't seem to shake. They hadn't seen each other much outside of therapy this week, either. Not since the night of their argument. Sy had to do a lot of prep for his trip to Virginia, and Shane's caseload this week had been ridiculous. Dozens of evaluations and updates and calls to various companies on different kinds of splints and orthotics she was hoping to get for a few of her patients. A lot of time spent on the phone meant a lot of after-hours documentation. She needed a break. Even if it meant she'd have to do some work over the weekend. Sy was leaving tomorrow to get settled in Charlottesville before the big training course began. She didn't want them to be apart on his last night home for a month.

"Hey, as a celebration of your discharge from PT and your new career trajectory, how about dinner on me tonight?"

"But…you don't really want me to leave town…or to be done with therapy. Not that I, myself, won't miss you feeling me up in public." he smirked as she took his last set of range of motion measurements, her hands gently holding one arm of her goniometer to the side of his thigh…suddenly too aware of him.

"Not entirely true. I'm glad you're better, I'll just miss seeing you through the day. It breaks up the…" she sighed "the monotony of my daily life. Also, why would I want you to leave town? What would that say about me as your girlfriend?" she explained.

"S'pose you're right."

"In this case, yes. Yes I am." She winked at him.

They finished up and she gave him a few more exercises to keep in his arsenal to maintain strength and range in both knees.

"Okay, now, I won't be around to harass you about these, but keep doing them regularly, and just modify them as I've notated if they get too easy. Try to just do more reps, though. I wouldn't try to bulk it up just yet, and that's what you'll do with more weight added."

"Yes, ma'am." he said for old time's sake. She shook her head and smirked.

"And listen, please. This is your physical therapist talking right now. Be careful and mindful during … your cross country training." she wanted to call it "Survivor-Virginia," but refrained. She knew it would get his hackles up. And she was taking enough of a chance insisting that he be careful. "Nature has perils for the perfectly fit. The already injured are at a disadvantage from the gate. Mind your footing. And try not to run unless you have to. Uneven surfaces are not your friend just yet. You still need to work up to that. If you want, I'll help you with it when you get back. Just…don't undo all this work we've done together."

He seemed to see his woman peeking out from behind the mask of his therapist. Concern coloring the neutral and clinical advice she was giving him.

"I'll do my best, sunshine." he held her by the arms and kissed her forehead. It felt too intimate for the setting, but they had done worse. "I'll see ya tonight then?"

"Yeah, I'll bring some food by your place after work. What do you want?"

"Hmmm…I'll let you know." he kissed her cheek and left.

The next hour was her lunch, so she had time to contemplate what seeing him walk out for the last time had made her feel. She sighed, and started to well up, getting out her lunch bag to begin eating and documenting when a knock came at the door frame.

It was Sy, looking forlorn and manic and altogether a mess. Very unlike himself.

"I got out to the truck and something just felt wrong about the way I left today. As if it was any other day. Not our last session. You were trying to get that to land…I'm a little slow. But I finally got it." he walked to her, grabbing her up from her chair in a hug that mended all of the broken parts of her. Squeezed her back together when she'd been damn near falling apart. "Shane, you…you did more than just make me better. You've…made me better. Happier. Whole. I'll never be able to thank you properly for all of this, but…I intend to try for as long as you'll let me."

He held her while her tears fell softly onto his Def Leppard shirt. This was what she needed. For him to simply hold her, complete her, love her.

"Also, I think I'd like Chinese food tonight." she laughed into his neck.

"You idiot."

"You still like me."

"I do. And you don't need to worry about thanking me, Sy. You return the favor daily by just…being you…and being mine." She pulled him in to a ferociously sexy kiss, her hands in his hair, still too short for her liking, but getting there.

He broke away, neither wanting it to end, but both knowing it must, all the same.

"I thought we couldn't do this at your work?" he inquired, slightly out of breath.

"We couldn't do this while you were a patient. You're officially discharged. Last appointment over. All I have to do is sign your note and it's a done deal. But now…if you wanted to drop by for lunch sometime when you get back from training for your fancy job…we could…make it a regular occurrence." she smiled up into his entrancing blue eyes, sparkling with promise.

"I like the sound of that, sunshine." he gave her one more chaste kiss before his official goodbye. "See ya tonight."

As she watched him leave, she remembered thinking to herself one day how he probably used to take very confident strides…that hardly did his walk justice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She ordered their favorites, four entrees total, so they had options, crab rangoon, egg rolls, dumplings, the works. She would be happy to eat off the leftovers all weekend. She wasn't fussy. She loved leftover Chinese takeout.

He met her at the door, having advance warning of her arrival from the canine burglar alarm, Aika.

"You got her. Good girl." he said sweetly thanking the pup for sounding off the Twilight Bark throughout the neighborhood.

"Hello!" She handed off the food to Sy and scratched at the German Shepherd's ears the way she liked, her tail wagging with joyous speed.

"I thought we could set up a buffet on the coffee table downstairs while we watch TV?"

"Sounds great!" She said, with an enthusiasm that sounded almost forced. She wasn't able to fully shake this foreboding she felt saying goodbye to him, no matter how long they'd be apart.

Sy grabbed plates and silverware while Shane got them some beverages, and they headed downstairs, Aika knowing her boundaries did not extend to the basement except by invitation, whined at their descent. Sy wasn't having it.

"Oh, don't give us that sob story, ya brat." he rolled his eyes at Shane.

"Aww, can't she come down with us?"

"No way. I want you all to myself." a devilish smirk twitched up the corners of his mouth making him even more handsome.

"Aika has nothin' on you. You're the real dog." she teased.

"I make no excuses or arguments. I'm gonna be selfish with you tonight." they put the food and supplies on the coffee table and he caught her up into his arms. He seemed to want to inhale her into his lungs.

"Mmmm, as endearing as I've always found generosity, I really like the sound of that." She let out a huff of amusement.

They spent an uncharacteristically short amount of time choosing something to watch. They'd already started a miniseries together, and they wanted to finish it before Sy left. It was a British political thriller with a lot of intrigue and quite a bit of sex. They only had two hours left, so they finished it quickly as they ate.

They decided to put on something familiar afterward. Die Hard. Which they both quoted with ridiculous precision. They were cuddled into each other on the big sectional, lulled into comfort by the familiar security of the dialogue and the warmth of the other.

Soon, Sy's hand found its way to Shane's thigh. It inched its way inside and up. She felt like he could hear her heart rate quicken, just as she knew he could hear her breaths come with more effort due to his touch.

She looked at him, and despite her apprehension about his decision to leave her so early in their relationship, she wanted him. She'd known for so long now. It felt like forever, for longer than they'd even known one another. A ridiculous notion. But with that same gaze, she begged him to continue. The signal was not lost on the captain. His mouth punished hers in a kiss so deliciously violent and needy she thought there was no way he couldn't feel the same for her. She pushed to the back of her busy mind all of the negative emotions the kiss brought up, the confusion as to how and why he was going to leave her when he clearly needed her just as badly as she needed him, and just let this beautiful moment become what it would.

As hard as that was to do.

The way he touched her was a pretty effective distraction. One hand held her firmly against his mouth by the nape while the other built friction in her over her jeans. She felt her body's primal responses of the building pressure and her hands gripping at his shirt. His guttural moan at her answering touch only fueled the inferno in her. She needed more of him. She thrust up into his hand wantonly. He took himself away from her, cruelly, but to be so very kind, she would soon see. He undid her jeans and tugged them down, along with her panties. In the process, he repositioned her conveniently at the edge of the sofa. He scooted the coffee table out of the way enough to kneel before her. He tortured her with kisses from her knee up her inner thigh on both sides before continuing those kisses where she really needed them.

His warm breath hit her first and she arched, aching in anticipation for the corporeal. He looked up at her with his dervish's grin, seeing the desire on her face and feeling it course through her body, and although he was a better man than her previous lovers, and a better man than most, no man was so good that making his woman feel like this didn't make him feel like a god.

"Darlin', you're so gorgeous like this." he said as he teased her with his mouth. Her words failed. She had only unintelligible syllables for him. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed thoroughly amused by her speechlessness. Amused and encouraged. She'd never felt like this before. His lips and tongue worked over her trembling flesh, both as familiar paths and brand new territory. Discovering the new and remembering the familiar, all at once.

"Sy." she whispered, so close to her peak, and needing him to continue, but unable to do more than moan his name.

"I know, sugar. I know it won't be long. Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

And she fell apart under his expert touch. He soothed her body down from the climax and asked her if she was ready for bed.

"I think not!" she replied. "The movie isn't over." and she pulled him up to her by the cheeks into another crushing kiss and guided him to the couch. She kicked her bottoms off her ankles to avoid tripping and repositioned herself between his legs as he'd done with her.

"You don't have to, sunshine." he caressed her jaw.

"I know, babe. I want to. Let me do this for you." He was always eager to taste her but she'd yet to return the favor at his own request. She was done letting him decline. She didn't want him leaving without giving him this small parting gift.

It wasn't as if she was unfamiliar with how big he was. She'd touched him, and had him inside her…but seeing him this close was different. She fully appreciated what a feat it was to take him.

She started in with her own tricks, which made him moan, just as planned. His hands laced gently and lovingly in her hair as she worked her mouth and hands over him. She looked up at him after a few moments to gauge his reaction and couldn't have been more pleased. His expression was one of pure, tortured bliss. She felt so powerful.

"Angel, I'm not gonna last much longer." she took that as her cue to get on top of him.

She joined their bodies with a groan of ecstasy that he echoed. She gripped his shoulders as she moved against him, slow and measured at first, but becoming more frantic and erratic as she chased her climax. One hand remaining on her hip, the other came to her chin and directed her gaze to him. Her eyes, blazing with desire, met his, full of tears. She fell against his lips, as she climbed higher, needing that final push to send her over. Which it did, tumbling into that familiar bliss, that she'd have to savor for…well, too long. She didn't want to think too hard about that. This would be their last night together for several weeks. And she wanted to make the most of it. She looked at him, nodded, and after a few more thrusts, he came to his own pinnacle with a shudder beneath her, clutching at her back, resting his head on her sternum. She held him there, and took a few cleansing breaths with her own cheek pressed against his lengthening hair. She stroked the ones at the back of his neck for a moment as they came down from their impossible high.

"Shall we continue this upstairs?" she asked as the cheery, festive, and entirely out-of-season notes of "Let It Snow" played on the TV with the rolling credits of Die Hard. He grinned.

"Yeah, if I still have bones in my legs." he kissed her neck, just above the collar of her tee. "And I'll come down later and clear all this up. We'll just have to close the door so Aika doesn't come down and have herself a party. She's a good dog, but I'm not about to tempt her."

Shane carefully slid off of Sy's lap, attempting not to make too much of a mess, grabbed her panties and slipped them on for the walk to Sy's room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The musical chiming of Sy's phone alarm came too damned early. They'd barely slept, not wanting to waste a moment together. When they finally nodded off after their last round of fervent love-making, they wrapped themselves around one another and were both out like lights in no time. Now he was untangling himself from her to turn the noise off and presumably begin the process of getting ready to leave for the airport. He only snoozed it, though, and pulled her more tightly against his bare, hairy chest.

"What time is it?" She asked, bleary from lack of sleep and extreme fatigue. Not that she was complaining.

"Seven. But my flight doesn't leave until 10, and it's just from the base. There's a flight leaving there for Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport and I'm hitchin' a ride with them."

"Oh good. I had anticipated we'd have to drive to Springfield, or even St. Louis this morning." She would do it for Sy, of course, but she wasn't looking forward to a six hour minimum round trip, half of which she would have to make alone.

"Nah, and I'm hoping to work something out for the return trip, too, but I'll let you know about that, then. I've made those open ended, though, because I don't know about the return date."

"Sure. God, that's so…crazy. Not in a bad way, just, I can't imagine leaving home without a clear plan on when I'd be back. Of course, knowing it won't be more than a month helps, I guess."

"Yeah."

"And really, a part of me has dreamed of living a sort of nomadic existence since I was very young, so I definitely see the romance in it."

"Totally agree. Hey, I'm hungry. How about we get ready and I'll buy ya breakfast?" He seemed evasive, but she was hungry, too, so she let it go.

"Sounds great!"

They got up and showered together, keeping the sexy time to a minimum given the current time constraints they'd now placed upon themselves. If they didn't hurry, they'd never get out of Cracker Barrell in time to get him to the base.

He loaded his bag in her cargo space and they headed off to the restaurant, which was hopping with traffic on a Saturday morning, as was expected. But since there were only two of them, they got a table without waiting.

They ordered coffees, and Cokes, not super healthy, but hey, this wasn't a daily occurrence. It was a splurge.

Sy ordered some massive and meaty breakfast spread that sounded like a heart attack waiting to happen, while Shane kept it simple with biscuits and gravy and a side of fruit…also, she stole a strip of Sy's bacon. Again…she was a weak woman.

The conversation was light and friendly and lovey…until the time came to leave. Sy picked up the check and took it to the counter to pay and then led her out the double doors back to her vehicle.

"You'll be able to FaceTime me on evenings you haven't gone walkabout in the wilderness, right?"

"I'm not sure they call it that outside of Australia, or even the Crocodile Dundee movies, but yeah, we'll plan on that, for sure."

"Good. I'll miss you so much. But at least I have a pretty good idea of when you'll be back." she was spouting excitedly, but he was being rather cagey again. He piped up with three words that never start off a good sentence.

"Yeah, about that…" she looked at him as they closed the doors to her Explorer, waiting for him to continue…hoping for good news, but expecting bad.

"I got an email last night…late…that I…that the training…might take longer than they told me at first." he winced for the impact of her reception of the anticipated bad news.

"Longer…uh-huh. How much longer?" she asked, backing out of her parking space.

"Ya know if you back into these spaces you don't have to worry about--"

"Really? This is the moment you want to man-splain the concepts of parking to me, Sy? I'll save you the trouble. My dad couldn't get me to do it, and I don't see you having any success, either. Now, how much longer?"

"I don't…they didn't give a concrete--"

"Give me your best guess based on what you know. Give me a range. A ballpark, if you will."

"Uhh…two or three more…weeks…than planned." he winced as she drove toward Fort Leonard Wood Army Base from the peaceful breakfast joint. It was rather poetic, really, since the conversation had turned from relaxed to militant. And they were driving from civilian territory into a land of combatants. Not a war zone, but a zone of warriors, perhaps. And she was ready for battle, herself.

"Sy. That's more than six weeks."

"I know." he said, his eyes downcast in some combination of shame, fear, and sadness.

"And you're…fine with it?" she prodded, prompting him to consider her.

"Of course I don't like it. I'm gonna hate being away from my sunshine for even a week. But this is…it's about who I am. Who I'm meant to be from now on. I have to find my way from here, Shane."

"I guess my only question is…where do I fit into this…path. This life you're making for yourself? We're brand new. But we've worked really hard already to get where we are. And I've worked really hard to get to where I am, professionally. In my dream job. No, the circumstances aren't ideal, but the work makes me think, and gives me purpose. What am I suppose to do? Either I give that up, or I give up…the only man I've ever been with who's made me actually happy."

"I don't want that. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to give anything up for me, darlin.' That'll just lead to you resentin' me down the road, and I don't want that, neither." He stopped a moment and just looked at her, face holding back frustrated and angry tears…but also very sad ones. "What about this? Let's just, talk about all this moving forward stuff when I'm back from training. At that point, I'll know more about what to expect about jobs and assignments. And…if it would make you feel more comfortable…we can call ourselves…unexclusive. That way, if you meet someone while I'm gone--"

"Have you lost your mind?" She interrupted his ridiculous attempt to be selfless. She was secure enough in his feelings for her that he wasn't making the suggestion for himself.

"I'm serious. If you meet someone, and he sweeps you off your feet, don't resist. I want you to be happy, Shane."

"Then come back and teach gym at the local high school. Better yet, don't go, at all."

"You remember all that stuff you said about having your dream job and a purpose?" Shane nodded. "You want me to find all that too, don'tcha?"

"No. I'm a selfish bitch who wants you here with me no matter the cost. And I don't care if you resent me in the long run. At least I'll have you." she laughed at her sarcasm and only slightly true self-deprecation.

"You'll be fine. You managed so far without me." he reminded her as she pulled up to the gate, guarded by about four men, who's rank she couldn't tell, but one of whom Sy called a sergeant.

"I'll get out here and they'll take me to the hangar in a cart. No civilian vehicles allowed today. Apparently they're doing maneuvers." he shrugged and got out to grab his bag.

"I put the rest of the takeout in here too. It's in one of my nice coolers on ice."

"Thanks." she told her shoes as they stood under the shade of her rear access hatch. She couldn't look at him right now. He made her, though.

"This ain't quite like the airport, but I still don't have a lot of time, sunshine." he kissed her hard, and it really felt like a goodbye, which almost hurt more than his leaving. Almost. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she knew she'd feel that embrace all evening. She hoped it would last for weeks.

"I love you, Sy." she sobbed to him. Trying like hell to keep it together.

"I love you, darlin.' Now don't you forget that when some other handsome fella gives you the eye. Make sure he's worth it, if you're gonna write me a dear john letter." he winked at her. She laughed and nodded, but didn't feel it was that funny, and didn't intend to adhere to his parameters of their relationship. He ducked under the arm that was preventing her from driving through. Although, legs as long as his, he almost could have stepped over it. She watched him walk away for as long as she could before she was given the signal that she must leave and let other traffic through…although, she resented this. There were two lanes, after all. Couldn't these men see what a mess she was? She'd just had to say goodbye to the love of her life…and she didn't know when…or indeed, if…she'd see him again. She had hope…but that didn't stop her from crying all the way home and the rest of the afternoon as the ghost of Sy's parting hug faded from her skin.

Up Next: Chapter 13: SNAFU

#netflix sand castle #Sand Castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #syverson smut #captain syverson fanfic #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc #Smut

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diner-drama · 3 years

Text

Cuddle Buddies (1/?)

"Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" are an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved. Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Bucky loves his job as a professional cuddler, providing non-romantic physical touch to people that need it, and when his new client turns out to be a pint-sized spitfire with a smile to die for, that's just a bonus.

Also on ao3.

"Rumlow, if I wake up tomorrow to find out that you've thrown my client on an airplane and deported her in the middle of the night I will have your ass in front of the bar association before you can blink," barked Steve into the phone held between his ear and shoulder, trying to get his keys out of his pocket one-handed. "You really think they're going to let this slide after last time?"

He paused for a second as the person on the other end of the line made a few abortive attempts at a response, then cut him off. "I'm turning off my phone now. If you still want to talk in the morning after considering my offer you can call me then, but if you pull any of your bullshit in the meantime, I will fucking ruin you."

Steve hung up the call with a flourish and shouldered his front door open, throwing his phone into a basket on an occasional table before closing the door behind him and leaning against it, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly. Being a hard-ass human rights lawyer was all very well and good during the work day, but by the time he got home Steve was more than ready to shed his tough persona and let himself be soft.

The suit jacket was the first to go, shrugged off his slim shoulders and slipped onto a hanger. Then, his smart, shiny shoes were slipped off and replaced with warm, thick socks. He swapped his starched shirt for an old, lived-in hoodie, and his neatly pressed slacks for sweatpants. His black briefcase found a home in the spare room he used as an office, and he shut the door after it, mentally shutting away his work life. He ran his hand through his smartly-combed hair to muss it up and rolled his shoulders back, taking a few deep breaths and letting the stress of his day roll off him.

He wandered around the living room, picking up a blanket from the steamer trunk by the window, drawing the curtains, and switching on the electric fireplace which filled the space with warmth and low, flickering light. He picked up his personal phone from the coffee table and sent a quick text to Sam to let him know he made it home safely, sent a thumbs up to Darcy in response to a terrible meme she'd sent him, and briefly considered video calling Peggy before remembering that she was in a conference in Singapore.

He flopped down onto the couch and wrapped himself up tight in the blanket, enjoying its weight on his shoulders. Opening his laptop, he coughed in embarrassment when the tab that he'd opened in a fit of loneliness last night popped up. "Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" seemed to be an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved, and they had excellent reviews.

Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Steve did his best to keep his work and home lives separate, but lately it was getting difficult to switch off from his worries when he was lying in bed at night, going over details from his cases while he tossed and turned on his pillows.

He scrolled through the information on the website one more time, thinking about how it might feel to invite a stranger into his home to cuddle him. Would it be uncomfortable? Would they think he was pathetic?

Putting aside the laptop for a minute, he ambled back into the kitchen to re-heat some shepherd's pie and put on the kettle for a cup of tea, climbing on a step stool to reach the mugs. His fingers and toes still a little chilly from the crisp autumn evening outside, he decided to fill up a hot water bottle, tucking it carefully into its fluffy case and holding it under his arm as he brought his dinner and drink back to the table. After a couple of bites of the pie, he pulled out a neat little wicker basket from under the table and took out his evening medications. Tapping the pills into his hand, he swallowed them with a gulp of tea and took a couple of huffs of his steroid inhaler for good measure, before getting back to his meal.

Steve may have lost the genetic lottery when it came to his height and his abysmal health, but the gods had seen fit to bless him with more than his share of sheer, bloody-minded scrappiness, which he felt more than made up for it.

Once he'd cleared the plate away and made himself a second cuppa, he opened up a book on his e-reader and held the comforting, warm weight of the hot water bottle to his chest, wondering idly, not for the first time, whether he should get a cat. He was a couple of chapters into a mediocre romance novel when he started tapping his fingers, thinking.

After a brief moment of indecision, he grabbed the laptop with renewed certainty and began to type a request into the website.

Bucky was just waving goodbye to Nat as he walked away from their session when his phone chimed, alerting him that there was a new customer inquiry that the agency wanted him to look at.

Maria: 28 yo man in Red Hook interested in trying cuddle therapy to help with work stress. Would prefer male therapist. Due to asthma, no cologne or scented products, and non-smokers only.

He smiled, and shot off a quick affirmative response. Maria often sent him their new clients - there was something about him that reassured people if they felt a little unsure about the services. Bucky was perfectly happy with his chosen profession - non-romantic physical touch was, in his opinion, essential for a happy life, and he got to provide it to people that needed it. Bucky liked to observe people and through his job he'd met a wide array of curious characters, so the work was never boring.

Also, the pay was amazing and Alpine would only eat the expensive cat food, so there was that.

He continued on his journey, enjoying the changing leaves on the trees around him and the chill in the air. Just as he was about to step onto the subway, his phone buzzed again, and after he found a seat he saw that Maria had sent him the phone number for his new client. He sent off his standard greeting straight away, eager to get his schedule firmed up.

Bucky: Hi Steve, this is Bucky from the Cuddle Buddies agency. When works for you for our first meeting? Looking forward to working with you!

Steve: Thanks for getting back to me. Saturday evening would be best for my schedule. Can I pay the $80 fee via bank transfer? -Steven Grant Rogers, Shield Solicitors

The response came immediately, and was far more businesslike than his usual interactions with clients. Still, Bucky could be businesslike. He even owned a tie.

Bucky: You sure can - the agency should send you out a contract tonight with the bank details. I can do Saturday at 7 if that suits.

Steve: Saturday at 7 sounds fine. What are the terms of the contract?

Of course, Mr. Lawyer Man wanted to know about the contract.

Bucky: It lays out what to expect in our interactions - we provide purely non-sexual services - as well as how to deal with cancellations, how we protect your privacy, and the billing structure.

Steve: Thank you. I look forward to meeting you on Saturday.

Bucky shook his head, wondering how this stuffy, formal guy was going to act during their cuddle session.

Steve didn't have the opportunity to start feeling anxious about his cuddle appointment because the negotiations with the lawyers at the ICE detention center took up every moment of his time. He was wrapping up his conversation with a client via email in his home office when his alarm chimed to let him know that he had half an hour until Bucky arrived.

After stretching his arms over his head, wincing at the tightness of his shoulders after slouching all day, he stripped out of the pajamas he was still wearing and indulged in a long, hot shower, scrubbing away his stress and emerging pink-cheeked and fluffy-haired. In his bedroom, he changed into a soft blue flannel shirt and a pair of pants that looked like slacks but felt like sweatpants, and another pair of his warm, fuzzy socks.

Pacing around his living room, his nerves ramping up, he selected a different blanket to leave ready on the couch and checked twice on his selection of teas. He had just put the kettle on to boil when the buzzer sounded.

On opening the door, he was immediately reassured to see that Bucky had a friendly, engaging grin, and was wearing a soft, knitted sweater. He held out a hand to shake and then immediately felt like an idiot, but Bucky just grasped Steve's cold hand with his warm one and squeezed it.

"Hi, you must be Steve," said Bucky with a pleasant Brooklyn drawl. Without being asked, he pulled a Cuddle Buddies ID card out of his pocket and handed it over to Steve, who checked the details on it and handed it back.

"Nice to meet you," said Steve stiffly. "Please, come on in. I'm just making a cup of mint tea, do you want one?"

"That'd be perfect, Steve. Mind if I take my shoes off?"

"Go ahead," replied Steve with a thin smile, attending to the whistling kettle.

"Thanks," said Bucky when he accepted his cup of tea. Steve couldn't help but notice that Bucky was wearing mis-matched but co-ordinating socks, one with red stars on a white background, and the other with white stars on a red background. He ushered Bucky to take a seat on the couch and sat in the armchair opposite. Bucky's posture was loose and open, but Steve was sitting bolt upright and jiggling his leg nervously. Fortunately, Bucky chose to take the lead in the conversation.

"So, I usually start first sessions with clients by talking about what your goals are for therapy," he began with a reassuring smile. "For example, some clients are looking to feel more comfortable with physical touch, some want to get over a breakup, or reduce stress, and some are just looking for companionship."

"I guess the companionship and stress things," said Steve after thinking for a moment. "My job takes a lot out of me, so I don't really have the time to pursue a relationship, but I do miss that human touch."

Bucky smiled gently, as though what Steve had said wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "What do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer, I mostly represent people who are in danger of deportation," said Steve automatically.

"That sounds rewarding," replied Bucky encouragingly.

"It is," agreed Steve, "but it's incredibly draining. I have to be so hard and tough all the time. Sometimes I think it would be nice to just be..." He tailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

"Soft?" supplied Bucky.

Steve smiled, feeling more comfortable despite his misgivings. "Yeah."

"Thank you for being so open with me, Steve," said Bucky, reaching over to squeeze Steve's knee. "If you don't have a particular preference for how we start, how about you join me on the couch and I put my arms around you. Does that sound good?"

Suddenly shy, Steve nodded and moved to sit next to Bucky, who immediately wrapped his big arms around Steve's shoulders and pulled Steve into his broad chest. As requested, Bucky wasn't wearing any fragrance, but he still smelled good, like fresh laundry and crisp autumn air, with an undercurrent of clean skin.

As he relaxed into Bucky's embrace, Steve tried to remember the last time he'd been held so gently. He was a regular recipient of Sam's big bear hugs and Darcy's chest-crushing squeezes, but he hadn't had a long-term romantic partner since law school, and his career didn't leave him a lot of free time to look for one.

"How does that feel?" asked Bucky in a low, soothing voice, gently rubbing at Steve's shoulder.

"Really good," breathed Steve.

"I'm glad," said Bucky gently. "How about I lie down on my back here and you snuggle up to my chest?"

Steve nodded his assent and Bucky released him slowly, and then rolled over to lie along the couch, opening up his arms so that Steve could slot himself in to rest his head on Bucky's warm chest. The knit of his sweater was soft against Steve's face, and one of Bucky's big hands came up to cup the back of Steve's head, rubbing small circles at the base of his skull with his fingertips.

"Thanks for not wearing cologne," said Steve, sounding muffled.

"Pal, I think you sneezing in my face would be worse for me than for you," laughed Bucky, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"It's not my sexiest move," agreed Steve, burrowing deeper into the soft warmth of Bucky's body.

Steve hadn't expected that conversation would carry on easily while they were cuddling - he predicted awkward silences and a feeling of general embarrassment - but they continued chatting while Bucky carded his fingers through Steve's hair, and he felt himself dropping deeper and deeper into a calm state of relaxation.

"So why'd you become a lawyer?" asked Bucky in a low voice, barely breaking into the spell he was casting over Steve.

"Ma came over here from Ireland to work as a nurse," replied Steve drowsily, "and when my pa died, she ran into some trouble with some of her immigration paperwork. There was a lawyer who worked pro bono to stop her from getting deported... the guy really changed our lives."

"So now you help other people the same way."

"I try to. How'd you get into professional cuddling?"

"After I got out of the army, I used to go for counseling sessions at the VA. Took a couple of years, but eventually I started on a course to be a counselor myself. A lot of those guys are so touch-starved, you know? My friend got the idea to start up a cuddling service and I jumped at the chance. It's been my full-time job for three years now."

Digesting this information, Steve was silent for a moment. He wouldn't have pegged Bucky as a soldier given how open and relaxed he was, but Sam didn't seem like an air force pilot, so you never knew. He cast around for a follow-up question. "Are there a lot of cuddling agencies in the world?" he settled on eventually.

"Oh yeah, it's a real growth industry. There's even a book called the Cuddle Sutra."

Steve scoffed. "You're kidding me, people write books about this stuff?"

Bucky cuffed him gently on the back of the head. "Shut up, punk. That's my profession you're besmirching."

"Are you allowed to tell your clients to shut up?" smirked Steve, never happier than when he was being a little shit.

"Only if they're being a punk," grumbled Bucky, wrapping an arm around the back of Steve's shoulders to pull him closer.

Over the course of the next forty five minutes, Steve learned more about Bucky's family, his asshole cat, his collection of semi-dead succulent plants, and his opinions on the present administration of the country. Bucky managed to wheedle Steve into talking about the bullying he faced at work, the stress of not having as many resources as he needed to help everyone he worked with - and he very nearly managed to get him to disclose his mother's recipe for shepherd's pie, and was only stopped by the threat that the ghost of Sarah Rogers would haunt him until he died.

Between the cozy warmth of Bucky's body, the soothing cadence of his voice, and the way his minty breath ghosted over Steve's forehead when he chuckled, Steve was pretty much in heaven, wrapped up in comfort. When Bucky's phone started to vibrate in his pocket, they both let out a little noise of annoyance.

"'Fraid that's my alarm. How'd you enjoy your first session?" asked Bucky, still stroking lines down Steve's back.

Steve hummed contentedly. "Worth every penny," he replied, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head.

"I'm really glad," said Bucky sincerely, squeezing his shoulder before standing up and heading towards his shoes. "Same time next week?"

"That'd be perfect. Thanks, Bucky. For everything."

"No problem," he replied with a genuine grin, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Now I'd better call Maria before she gets the cops after me to make sure I haven't been murdered in a back alley somewhere."

"I'm glad they care so much about your safety."

"I love my job," laughed Bucky as he let himself out the front door, waving goodbye to Steve as he put the phone to his ear.

Steve spent some time smiling and waving like a goof until Bucky rounded the corner, at which point he finally shook himself awake and shut and locked his door. It was only eight PM but after a few nights of fractured sleep he was ready to follow his relaxed, sleepy feeling straight to bed.

After he pottered around the room, straightening up and putting things away, he brushed his teeth and jumped onto his big, comfortable bed, where he rolled himself up in his comforter like a burrito. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

#stucky #my fics #cuddle buddies

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Last Chapter: Chapter 11 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Read on AO3

I’m going to miss writing this story. I hope you like the ending.

Epilogue

Brock quickly shuts off his alarm, hopeful that for once he’ll manage and let Jose sleep. The groan coming from the other side of the bed just a moment later lets him know he’s failed though.

”What time is it?” Jose mumbles and turns on his side, facing Brock.

”Early. Go back to sleep, babe.” He kisses him softly and rubs his back for a moment and then gets out of bed. His clothes are already waiting for him in the bathroom. Like always he takes a quick shower and gets dressed. By the time he is done, Jose is sleeping again und like he usually does, he takes a second to look at him and memorizes the scene. He’s probably the only person in the world right now who gets to see this loud and boisterous human being, be so still and quiet as he snoozes away.

Brock’s right on time when he leaves the house, walks into his favorite coffee shop to get himself breakfast and meets one of his classmates a few blocks down the street.

He’s still surprised that nearly half of his class are his age or older, because at first he’d been scared that he’d be so much older than the rest of the students. It’s a very eclectic group of people from all kinds of backgrounds race and age, who simply all have their love for photography in common. He loves this school and his classmates and it’s so much different from the first time he went to college.

He’s done in the afternoon and has dinner with his friends on campus. Brock stops by Whole Foods to get the groceries for dinner and grabs some lunch for Jose as well. After dropping off the groceries at home, he ubers to the studio, because it’s too far to walk.

”Lunch break,” Brock announces when he walks into the dance studio, where Jose is just explaining something to the dancers.

”Finally, you’re late today, mate! I thought he’d never give us a break,” Tony, one of the dancers Jose usually works with, complains in good humour.

”Get outta here, asshole, before I fire you,” Jose yells and everyone just laughs. They all leave anyway to get some lunch as well.

”You not late, boo. You’re right on time,” Jose tells him and pecks his lips quickly, but stays away from him.

”I’m a bit late. The first uber was cancelled by the driver because he apparently got a better offer.” Brock wraps his arms around Jose’s waist and pulls him close.

”I’m all sweaty,” he protests

”I don’t care.” Another conversation that feels like they’ve had thousands of times before. This is probably the only moment they get to themselves all day and Brock just needs to kiss him. So he does. They end up making out with Jose pressed up shirtless against the mirror wall. Jose’s growling stomach stops them from going further.

”Probably for the best. If they catch us fucking in here, these hos will never let me live it down,” Jose laughs, grabs the food container Brock brought him and sits down on the floor.

”I’m still traumatised from when your mom walked in on us.”

Jose chuckles. ”She didn’t see nothing, ‘cause she was clever enough to wait in the kitchen until we were done.”

”She heard us! That’s bad enough,” Brock feels his face heat just remembering the scene.

”You just embarrassed ‘cause you was taking the D that day and then you always extra loud. And it her own fault for just walking into our house. Who does that?” Jose really finds this funny.

”Your mother, apparently.”

”She’s not done it again.” Jose digs into his food with a chuckle. ”You working tonight?” he asks after swallowing.

”Yeah, one of the drag race girls is gonna be at Mickys WeHo and they asked me to take some pictures.”

”Cool. Who is it? Someone we know?”

”I don’t think so, but you know I always get confused with their boy names and drag names.”

”Silky’s still not over you calling them ‘Reggie’ all the time when they in drag.”

”That’s how he introduced himself. How was I supposed to know he’s feeling his full female fantasy as soon as he has some lipgloss on?”

”You around them drag hos more than me now, you should know,” Jose chuckles. ”So, who is it?”

”Uhh…” he quickly checks his phone. ”Kameron something.”

”Michaels?”

”I think so.”

”The body builder barbie. He good.”

”So you know him?”

”Yeah,” Jose nods and swallows again before he speaks. ”He the boyfriend of Asia.”

”Asia?”

”Ant!”

”Aaah, ok,” now Brock knows who he’s talking about.

”Tell him I say hi.”

”He’s as dramatic as Ant?” He needs to ask, because the one time he’s worked for Asia, the other man had a melt down over the glitter on his face being the wrong color.

”Nah, he’s pretty chill. A bit quiet at first, that why people say he’s arrogant or some shit, but he just real shy, ya know?” Jose’s done with his food and hands his left-overs to Brock. Another ritual they’ve established.

”You gonna be home tonight for dinner?” Brock has no problem talking with his mouth full, which makes Jose roll his eyes.

”Probably not. They sent us a new cut of the song today and the whole middle part doesn’t fit with the beat anymore. We have to change it all.”

”I’ll leave dinner in the fridge then.”

”We still on for tomorrow? Free day at the beach and all that?” Jose asks and leans his head against Brock’s shoulder.

”Yes, absolutely. We need some alone time before you leave for the shoot next week.”

”I already miss you,” Jose sighs. Brock places the food on the ground and wraps his arms around his boyfriend.

”It always sucks when you’re gone, but it’s just another month until we leave for Hawaii.” They’ve booked a vacation and Brock can’t wait. The first vacation in his life, his first flight, his first trip with his boyfriend.

”I know,” Jose’s lips ghost against Brock’s neck and then he sits back up. ”They all gonna be back in a sec’. See you tomorrow?”

”See you tomorrow,” Brock confirms and pecks Jose’s lips a couple of times. He grabs the trash to take it with him and leaves just as the dancers get back.

Back at home he has time to clean up around the house, do his homework and take care of the cats. He heads to his therapist’s office for his weekly session and when he gets back home, he cooks dinner, even though he hates eating alone and then gets ready to go to work.

It had been Jose’s idea that he could take pictures of the dancers and from there he started to take pictures at the clubs, then of drag queens and now he has a pretty steady group of clients, who always book him when they need photos of themselves or the queens at the clubs.

It’s exhausting being up early to go to school and then work in the clubs at night, but Brock is used to hard work and long hours.

When he gets back home, Jose is already in bed, snuggling Thackery, while Apollo and Henry are spread out on his side of the bed. They run off when he comes in, they know he doesn’t want them on the bed and even Thackery follows them after Brock has given him some attention.

Jose senses his presence and seeks his warmth. He’s just shut off the light when Jose’s suddenly lying half on top of him, fast asleep.

”Night papi,” Brock whispers, kisses his forehead and smiles when he remembers that they are both having tomorrow off.

***

It’s late and all Brock wants to do is go home, but he still has to show the pictures he took to the dancers of the ‘Papi Boy Friday’.

Usually Jose comes with him on these Fridays, but his flight back got delayed and Brock is lucky if he’ll be home by the time he’s done here. Jose has been gone for a week and Brock misses him like crazy.

”I’m the last one?” Tyler, one of the dancers, asks and slides into the seat next to him.

”Yes, looks like it.” Brock confirms and turns his laptop so Tyler can see the pictures.

”Ok, that one’s a no. Look at my face,” the dancer laughs and touches his arm quickly.

”It’s not that bad. I like the lighting,” Brock says and points it out to him on the screen.

”You got a similar one?” Tyler leans closer and steadies himself with a hand on Brock’s shoulder.

”Yeah, this one. You like it better?”

”Yeah. I love it,” Tyler smiles and nudges Brock with his shoulder. ”We take that one definitely,” he decides with a wink.

”Your wish is my command,” Brock jokes and quickly saves the picture into the according folder. They quickly look through the other pictures and pick a couple more.

”You gonna stay for another beer?” Tyler asks him when they are done.

”Nah, I really wanna go home. I’m beat.”

”Oh come on! It’s been a while since we hung out.”

”Fine,” Brock sighs and checks his phone for the time, calculates quickly if Jose could be home by now.

”Here,” Tyler comes back and hands him a bottle. They clink their bottles together and each takes a sip. ”Where’s your boyfriend?”

”Shooting again. He wanted to be back this morning, but his flight got delayed.”

”So you’re single tonight?” Tyler smiles and steps a bit closer to him. A bit too close for Brock’s liking, bit Tyler has never had any sense of personal space.

”Huh?” Brock doesn’t quite understand the question though. Why would he be single just because Jose is…?

Suddenly he is pushed aside as someone slams into him from the side.

”Get your fucking hands off my man,” It’s loud, it’s aggressive, it’s followed by a glass of vodka something being thrown into Tyler’s face; It’s Jose.

”Jo?” Brock can’t believe that he’s here. He’s happy and surprised, but even more so, he is confused by his boyfriend’s behaviour. ”What are you doing here?” he asks, but doesn’t get an answer to his question because Tyler throws the first punch and Jose sees red. The bottles, his laptop and phone crash to the ground as Jose tackles the dancer onto the table and hits him right in the face.

”Imma end you!” he screams and lands another blow.

”Jose, stop!” Brock grabs him from behind and pulls him off. Tyler wants to come after him again, but is held back but two other dancers who have hurried over. Jose struggles against Brock’s hold, but he drags him through the nearly empty club and out into an alley way, all the while Jose is still cussing and swearing and threatening Tyler. ”Stop! God damnit! Calm down. What the hell are you doing?” Brock yells and pins him against the wall by his shoulders, so he can look in his face. He has a wound on his forehead, but his eyes are black with rage.

”Imma kill this motherfucking bitch! No one touches my man. No one!” he screams. They’ve been together for six months and Brock has seen Jose angry, he’s seen him get into fights a couple of times, but he’s never seen him lose it like this.

”He wasn’t touching me. What are you talking about?” he asks, truly confused.

”He wasn’t touching you? Bitch! You lying now? That what’s going on here? I be gone for one week and you hooking up with this dancer ho?” Now Jose’s anger is directed at him.

”I’m not hooking up with anyone. You’re completely delusional. And stop pushing me!” Brock yells back, when Jose starts pushing at his chest, hurting him.

The door opens and one of the bouncers comes out, holding Brock’s laptop bag, camera and cellphone.

”Brock, these are yours, right?” he asks and Brock nods. ”You need some help?”

”No, we’re going home now. Thank you, André.” He takes his things from him and keeps Jose in place with one hand on his shoulder.

”You can go wherever the fuck you want, but you not telling me what to do!” Jose is yelling again as soon as they’re alone.

”Will you just shut up and calm down? I’m not discussing this with you in a dirty alley way at 4 am in the morning! I’m going home now and you’re coming and if I have to drag you there.” He yells back. Dragging isn’t necessary, because Jose follows him the three blocks back to their house. The door slams shut behind them and Brock knows that Jose has obviously not calmed down yet. With a heavy sigh he puts his photo bag down and walks upstairs.

”Where you going? Take a shower to wash him off you? Grab your clothes and leave?” Jose follows him, still yelling. ”You said you no cheater! You said you fucking loyal! You a liar!”

Brock takes a deep breath to not lose his cool completely and grabs the first aid kit from underneath the sink. ”Sit down on the bed. You’re bleeding,” he orders, his voice icy because of all the hurt and anger he feels.

Jose sits down and while Brock cleans his wound and wipes the blood away, he can see the anger draining out of Jose. It’s like he’s deflating, becoming smaller in front of his eyes. When he puts the bandaid on his forehead, Jose speaks again.

”How long’s this been going on? You and him?” Jose asks and his eyes are full of tears.

”There’s nothing going on with me and him or anyone else. Why the fuck do you even think that?”

”‘Cause I get here and want to surprise you and all I see is him flirting with you, touching you the whole time and you smiling back.”

”He was not flirting with me.”

”He was fucking all over you and wants to fuck you. What’d you think it means when he saying ‘You single tonight’?” Jose gets louder again.

”I… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it too much. I know Tyler… hell, you know Tyler. He just wanted to hang out, that’s all.”

”You so fucking thick. He flirts with you every damn time and you never say nothing! Every fucking ho in this place has their hands on you all the time. You always smiling and flirting.. You leading them hos on, even when I’m standing right next you. What the fuck is going on when I’m not there? Tyler wanting to fuck you, that’s what and you just letting him.”

”No one is flirting with me! And I’m not flirting back. I work there, Jo, I’m just friendly and I get along with everyone. But you just had to come in tonight and ruin it by attacking one of the dancers. You’re out of control!”

”No, you out of control! If I’d known you transform from country boy to party toy in six months, I’d have left your ass back in Texas, so you’d keep it in your pants. You not the same.”

”No, I’m not! I’m not depressed anymore all the time, I’m not scared anymore, I’m not dependent on you anymore and I have a couple tattoos more. If you want someone who’s always following you around and depending on you, I propose you get a puppy and not a boyfriend,” Brock yells back, because he’s had it. Jose is absolutely impossible and has gone way too far.

”Brock!” Jose calls after him when he leaves the bedroom and slams the door behind him, but he doesn’t stop. He needs a moment to calm down. He grabs his phone and his keys and leaves.

For a while he just walks around the block, until he finds a gas station that’s still open and buys himself a cup of coffee with the last couple of dollars he has in his pockets. When he feels calmer, he walks back home.

He finds Jose sitting in the living room, a blanket thrown over his shoulders. His face is blotchy, swollen and wet, his eyes are red from crying and the sight breaks Brock’s heart.

”You came back.” It’s barely above a whisper and Brock realises that his boyfriend really thought that he was gone for good.

Brock wraps his arms around him and holds him, because he needs the embrace as much as Jose does. ”Of course I came back. I just needed a moment to calm down.”

”I thought you went to him.” Jose sniffs against his shoulder where he hides his face.

Brock cups his face and makes him look at him. ”Jose, there is nothing going on with Tyler or anyone else. I’ve never cheated on you.” Brock tells him again and looks him in the eyes. ”Do you believe me?”

It takes a moment, but finally Jose nods. ”I believe you.” Brock wipes the tears and the snot off his face, pecks his lips and holds him close again.

”I love you, papi, but we can’t continue like this.”

Jose pushes back and his eyes are wide with shock. ”What do you mean? You breaking up with me?”

”No, I’m not,” Brock pulls him back into his arms. ”But I can’t have you flying off in a jealous rage all the time. You have to trust me. And the fights you get into, the breaking things when you’re angry… you need some anger management classes, babe. And maybe some therapy, too.”

”You’re not leaving me?”

”I don’t want to leave you, Jose. I love you. But… we both need to put the work in, because we both have issues. And I can’t fix yours. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m being faithful and I’m not interested in anyone else. You believe me now, but the next guy who so much as looks my way and we’ll be back right here. I take pictures of drag queens in gay clubs. People will touch me and flirt with me, it’s part of the game, even if I don’t get it most of the time and think they’re just friendly. But I need you to trust me. And if you can’t, then we need to get help. I told you before, but I will not get beat up by anyone again, not even by you.”

”I’ve never hurt you,” Jose points out with another sniff.

”I know and I’d like for it to stay that way.” He runs his fingers through Jose’s sweaty hair. The grief and pain he must feel really affects him physically. ”Babe, if you ever hit me, that’s something I wouldn’t be able to forgive, just like cheating.”

”It on the no-go list,” Jose nods and sits up.

”Definitely.”

”Ok… your therapist, he doing the anger shit, too?” Jose seems embarrassed to even ask the question.

”I don’t know, but I can ask him. If he’s not offering it, maybe he can recommend someone.” Brock gives him an encouraging smile. ”But he could definitely help us with your jealousy.”

”And yours!”

”And mine,” Brock chuckles, because he knows Jose is right. He might not go around and beat people up, but he’s definitely been jealous and has frozen Jose out because of it.

It’s Jose who initiates the kiss that seals their deal, but it’s Brock who breaks it when he sees Jose’s hand. ”Papi, what happened to your hand? That from the fight?” Brock wonders when he sees the swollen knuckles and cuts on his boyfriend’s right hand.

”No,” Jose looks like a deer in headlights. ”I might’ve smashed the bathroom mirror and punched the wall,” comes the hesitant explanation.

”You’re an idiot, Jose,” Brock rolls his eyes, but he isn’t really angry. There’s no point in it, when they’ve already agreed to take the necessary steps to prevent this from happening again.

”But you love me anyway.” It’s a statement, not a question and Brock is glad to hear it.

”True. Guess, we’re both idiots. Let’s go upstairs so I can bandage your hand and clean up the mess you no doubt left in the bathroom.” He gets up and wraps his arm around Jose’s shoulder as they leave the living-room.

”And we still have to make up.”

”Didn’t we just do that?”

”Bitch, if you think we just going to sleep after being apart for a week and then nearly breaking up, you wrong! I expect to be dicked down till the sun comes up!” Jose huffs and Brock tries to hide his smile.

”So for another twenty minutes?” he teases after checking the time.

”Asshole!” Jose grumps before they both start laughing.

***

”James Dean?” The familiar nickname never fails to make Brock chuckle.

”Kitchen, J.Lo,” he calls and turns around to see Jose’s mother walking in, carrying large paper bags. ”Hey,” she greets him and hands him one of the bags, after he kissed her cheek hello.

”Hey. What’s all of this?” he asks and peeks into the brown bag.

”Just some groceries and food and drinks. You two never have anything at home and the kid needs to eat,” she shrugs and starts unpacking. ”There’s three more in the car.”

”Hint taken, I’ll get them,” he laughs, grabs her car keys and walks out to get the rest of the groceries. ”You know that Rachel’s only staying for two weeks, not two years, right?” he teases her when he gets back.

”Oh shut up,” she rolls her eyes and reminds him so much of her son at that moment. ”You heard anything yet?”

”Yes, Jo texted that they started boarding on time, so they should be here in three hours.”

”It’s good that Jose could stop in Houston and pick Rachel up. She’s too young to fly on her own.”

”Yeah, I think she got scared by her own bravado. At first she was all ‘I am not a baby anymore, I can fly on my own’, but she’s never even been to an airport. She wouldn’t have known where to go or what to do. I was overwhelmed by it all when we went to Hawaii, even though Jose was with me the whole time.”

”You gonna pick’em up?”

”Of course. I have to show Jose my new car,” Brock beams.

”Oh, he’s not seen it yet?”

”He was there when I bought it, but it took two months for them to deliver it, so he’s not seen it yet.”

”Ah, right. You should be very proud, you know. Making so much money with your photos and working so hard that you can buy a new car.” Anabel starts checking the things in their fridge, throwing away what she deems inedible, while storing the rest of the things she brought.

”I couldn’t have done it without Jose and his help. I had nothing when I came here, no money, no job… he was fully sponsoring me for the first three months, before I could start paying for my own stuff. And now I can even pay him back.” He feels so incredibly happy and proud. The first time he’d been able to buy Jose a present, a new watch, he’d burst into tears when he’d given it to him.

”You had therapy, that’s more important than making money. We were all worried about you, you know. When Ada called and Jose wasn’t sure, if he should go and get you. I told him, I said ‘Son, if you not going and Brock’s hurting himself or starts drinking like his dad, you not gonna forgive yourself’.”

”That all seems so far away now. I feel so different. Have I told you, I was even able to go off the anti-depressants a couple of weeks ago?”

”See, so proud of you, mijo,” she kisses his cheek again. ”And you got my stubborn idiot to finally stop acting like a teenager who gets into fights all the time. I really thought one day the cops gonna call me and I have to bail him outta jail.”

”He’s still a hothead, but he’s got himself under control now,” Brock laughs, remembering Jose’s last angry rant, when he had walked up to his punching bag in the spare room every couple of minutess, to let his frustration out. ”Most of the time.”

”Have you heard from your parents?”

”Not really. My mom talks to me when I call, but it’s all… the weather, what the priest said at church, bit of gossip about the people in town and what the animals are doing at the farm. The most I get out of her, is when she got into another fight with Lilly about how things are done.”

”And your dad? Still nothing?”

”He hasn’t talked to me since we left and I can’t really ask my mother, because she doesn’t seem to know that he came to see us.” Brock hops up and sits down on the counter.

”He still drinking?”

”Judging by what Ada says nothing’s changed. He’s still an absolute asshole to everyone.”

”Is there like a therapist in town he could see? I don’t think you can just stop drinking.”

”No, there’s not. If my dad wanted to really stop drinking, he’d have to check himself into a program in Dallas or Houston and he’s not going to do that.” Brock sighs. ”It’s just so frustrating, because I wanna help him, but I’m not sure he even wants help. Sometimes I feel like I dreamed the whole thing when we left.”

”Maybe he just wanted you to know…. and not change? It gets harder to change when you get old. I’m still young, but I say I’ll start working out every damn day and what do I do? Drink margaritas and chill by the pool.” Her very true assessment of her own habits makes Brock laugh.

”So, what’s the plan here? What are you gonna cook?”

”I’m not cooking nada. You can cook yourself. I just brought some things for Miss Rachel.”

”Mama Vanjie… as Jose would say ‘you full of shit’. What are you making?”

She slaps him, but laughs. ”I thought, you could Bbq some pinchos with chicken. Or shrimp for Jose. And I make some guacamole, tostones and garlic sauce, mofongo and empanadas. And I brought tres leches as dessert.”

”Jesus, how many people are we expecting? It’s just the five of us.” Brock knows her husband will join them as well.

”I talked to Silky and they will be over later. I said once Rachel’s in bed, we would make Coquito.”

”Isn’t that for Christmas only?”

”We can pretend it’s Christmas,” Anabel shrugs unimpressed and Brock guffaws.

”Fine. If Silky’s coming over so will be A’keria. Then I can also invite Dane and Ant, ‘cause they are in town… Rachel will be spending her first night in L.A. In the company of two gays, four gay drag queens and a crazy Puerto Rican woman. My dad would have a heart attack, if he knew.”

”Or, he’d like to get invited and dress up as well,” she jokes and Brock nearly falls off the counter when he imagines his dad as a drag queen. He will so go to hell for this thought.

Brock helps Anabel in the kitchen – as much as she lets him – and then leaves her alone in the house to pick up Jose and Rachel. Jose’s been gone for three weeks this time and as excited as Brock is about seeing Rachel again after nearly a year, he also can’t wait to see his boyfriend again. The romantic evening surely won’t happen now that Anabel invited half of WeHo over to their place, but Jose won’t leave again for the foreseeable future. They’ll make up for it later.

Impatiently he checks the screens again and again, but they only tell him that the plane has landed, nothing more. It’s not the first time he’s picking up Jose, so he hopes that he’s not gone to the baggage claim on his own for once. He checks the screen again.

”Uncle Brock!” He looks around and finally sees Rachel running towards him, with her backpack in hand and Jose’s neck pillow around her neck.

”Rachel!” She jumps and is in his arms a second later. ”God, you’ve gotten so big!” he points out as he still holds her.

”Are you calling me fat?” she asks in her usual sassy way and makes him laugh.

”Are you wearing make-up?” Brock narrows his eyes when he gets a good look at her face.

”Jose had them paint my nails and do my make up at the airport,” she nods excitedly and jumps down so she can show him her nails, which are painted neon yellow.

”You know your mother will kill me, if she sees you like this?” Brock raises his eyebrows.

”She just wearing some mascara, blush and lipgloss, so calm your ass down. And she won’t be home for another two weeks,” Jose shows up behind them. Brock turns around, sees his smirk and hugs him tightly.

”I missed you,” he tells him, kisses him and pecks his lips a couple more times before finally pulling back.

”Missed you, too,” Jose replies softly.

”We gonna get our bags now or you are you gonna continue making out here?” Rachel stops them, just when they lean in again.

”When did you become such a brat?” Brock asks and ruffles through her neatly combed hour, making her squeal.

”I’m not,” she protests as they start walking towards the baggage claim.

”And she shouldn’t be talking, ‘cause Miss Rachel’s in loooove,” Jose sing-songs teasingly.

”I’m not!”

”Oooh, who’s the guy?” Brock exchanges an amused look with Jose and wraps his arm around his waist.

”Why’d you think it a guy?” Jose grins.

”Ok, who’s the girl?” Brock rephrases, still teasing her.

”It’s not a girl!” Rachel protests.

”Oh, so it is a guy! Who is he? Where did you meet? What does he look like? Does he know you like him?” Brock asks.

”Ok, I’ll tell ya, but you’re not allowed to laugh! Best friends don’t laugh about stuff like that.” Rachel requests.

”Promise,” Brock vows and Jose hides his face in his shoulder, when he has to laugh about the spectacle.

”Ok, so…” Rachel starts her tale as they reach the baggage claim.

”You know the story already?” Brock quietly asks Jose.

”Bits and pieces. Had to keep her distracted when she nearly freaked out during take-off,” Jose whispers back and kisses him again.

”Keep an eye on the conveyor belt. I’m the best friend, I have to listen to this in detail, before she realises I’m really just her old uncle.”

”Not that old, babe,” Jose replies, wraps his arms around Brock’s waist and leans his head against his shoulder as he keeps looking for their suitcases. Brock keeps him close as he listens to his twelve year old niece babble about her first crush, kisses Jose’s forehead from time to time and is happy that he has his two favorite people back in his life, both at the same time.

***

”Babe, stop messing with your hair. You look fine,” Brock tells him and takes Jose’s hand in his to stop him from nervously fiddling with his hair again.

”Fine? Just fine? I have to look smokin’, Imma be on camera,” Jose whispers back, now fiddling with his bow-tie with the other hand. He can’t just look fine. This is the biggest thing that has ever happened to him, well, possibly.

”You are. You’re looking so hot!”

”You still like the suit? Maybe I should’ve taken the grey one?” Jose wonders.

”No, this dark blue one is perfect. You look perfect!” Brock quickly kisses him. ”And now sit up straight, stop fidgeting and smile, ‘cause your category is next.” Jose does just that and grasps Brock’s hand with both of his. Jose knows his palms are sweaty, but he also knows Brock gets it. Dressed up to the nines, both in suits and bow-ties they are sitting at large round table, sweating underneath the large spotlight above their heads. A camera man shows up next to them, doing a close up of Jose’s face. He’s blinded by the light for a second, but tries not to grimace or squint. Instead he grips Brock’s hands even tighter.

”And the winner of the MTV Video Award for best Choreography is….” Jose hears the blood rush in his ears and the seconds seem endless as the presenter opens the envelope. ”…. Vaaanjiiiiie for the video to ‘Hot as hell’.”

Jose freezes, he can’t believe it. He’s won!

”Oh my god, papi! Jose!” Brock hugs him so tightly he can barely breathe and kisses him – that’s when he knows it’s real. He’s won the motherfucking award!

Jose presses his lips to Brock’s again and then gets up. People congratulate him left and right as he makes his way up to the stage. He feels like he’s floating. On stage he accepts the award with shaky hands, smiles and pulls the little paper with his notes out, that Brock made him prepare. The letters blur in front of his eyes and he crumbles it in his hand. When he looks out into the room, he is blinded again, but then, suddenly, he manages to catch Brock’s eyes. Even from up here, he can see that his boyfriend is a very proud, crying mess. It makes him smile even wider.

”Thank you all for this award. I’d like to thank my ma and my whole family, Miss Ada and the whole bunch, my management and all the artists who book me and all the dancers who work with me and bear with me on the regular. I can’t believe I won. It crazy, ‘cause not only did I win with my first nomination, and with the video that has my niece dancing on camera for the first time – shoutout to Miss Rachel – , but also with the choreography that means a whole lot, because it was inspired by the story of the man who means the world to me and who’s been putting up with my crazy ass for the last two years. Brock, I love you so much! This is yours as much as mine! Thank you, boo, for everything.” He holds up the award again and makes his way off the stage. There are photographers beside the stage and he has to pose for a couple of pictures. He’s allowed back during the next commercial break and hurries past everyone to get back to Brock. He gets up when he sees him and ends the talk with the person sitting next to him.

”I’m so fucking proud of you,” Brock tells him and hugs him again.

”Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

”Not true, but I take it. I love you, too!”

”Wanna get out of here? Celebrate in private?” Jose just wants to be alone with Brock now, away from all the people and the cameras; get out of the suits and just be them.

”Can we do that?” Brock laughs in surprise.

”I got the award. What are they gonna do? Take it back?”

”Alright, then hurry, before they start filming again,” Brock giggles, quickly grabs their phones off the table and then they hurry through the room, hand in hand, and just make it out in time, before the doors close again for shooting.

In the uber back home they are all over each other in the backseat, Jose’s award nearly forgotten in the car when they stumble out of the car.

”Wait, papi, wait,” Brock stops him suddenly when they are making their way through the living room towards the bedroom, Jose’s jacket, shirt and bowtie already somewhere on the floor and his belt and zipper open, while Brock’s still fully dressed.

”What? You wanted to congratulate me… preferably on your knees!” Jose says and tries once more to get Brock out of his suit jacket.

”My phone keeps vibrating. Maybe it’s important.”

”Bitch, are you serious?” Jose can’t believe it. But Brock really takes his phone out and pulls him over to the couch.

”Look, it’s from Rachel,” Brock shows him the screen.

”That could’ve waited,” Jose tried to pretend he’s still grumpy, but he loves Rachel as much as Brock does.

”Oh come on now! She’s so excited about your win! She even sent a video. We can’t let her wait until we’re done, ‘cause that’s gonna take a while.”

”Oh really?” the comment shoots straight to his dick. Whenever Brock’s in that intense kind of mood, things are really getting hot and heavy in the bedroom.

”Really,” the kiss Brock gives him is as hot as the images in Jose’s head, but he has to wait and watch Rachel’s video first.

Rachel is filming and Jason, Ada, Joe and the kids, Dan and his two eldest and even Brock’s mom are all there at the dance studio. They are watching the award show live as Rachel films the moment of the announcement. They’re all silent, biting their nails, holding hands or just staring at the screen. When Jose’s win is announced they erupt in cheers and Ada bursts into tears, because she’s so happy.

”There’s Brock,” his mother can be heard saying and points at the screen, when they are shown kissing before Jose makes his way up on stage. Jose and Brock watch their reactions to Jose’s speech in the video.

”Congratulations Jose! Can’t wait to see you guys again in three weeks!” Rachel can be seen a moment later, now facing the camera. ”But, like, there’s something I gotta do now, 'cause I promised” she smirks into the camera and Jose knows she’s up to no good.

Before he can even guess at what she’s up to this time, she films her family, who are just sitting there now and then walks over to where Jose knows the mirrors are in the studio. She angles the camera at the mirrors and there’s a large paper hanging down from the ceiling. In big, bold letters the poster reads ‘Marry me?’

”What?” Jose gasps. Suddenly Brock is kneeling next to the couch and pulls a ring box out of his suit jacket.

”Marry me?” Brock asks him, this time in person, the cell phone turned off now. Jose stares at him. He can’t believe this.

”You fucking bitch!” he points a finger at him as he bursts into tears. ”This is how you propose to me? When I’m looking like this?” he points to his disheveled and half-dressed state.

Brock laughs. ”That a yes?”

Jose laughs and cries at the same time as he sinks down beside his man, kisses him and tackles him to the ground. They celebrate the win and their engagement right there, naked on the living room floor, with the cold air of the AC cooling their heated skin.

The end

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #smut #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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seasonofthegeek · 4 years

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Somebody You Loved, Part 2

A lovely Nonny requested a second part to this story through ko-fi. Thank you so much for your support!

Parts 1, 2:

“Hello?”

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I’m trying really hard not to think too much while I’m getting ready?” Chloe stared at her reflection as she held the phone to her ear. She’d gotten through most of her makeup, but her left eye was obviously missing mascara. She’d gone as long as she could without freaking out enough to call Adrien but he’d become her safety blanket on rough days. “Because by trying not to think too much, I think I’m thinking too much which might be really bad.”

“Chloe?”

“Yes! Answer the question,” she snapped. “Please.”

“I...wait, can you repeat it?”

She huffed and put the call on speaker so she could keep working on her makeup. “I’m getting ready to go meet Nathaniel. We’re going to do coffee at that cat cafe down the street.”

“You hate cats. As much as that pains me to say, by the way.”

“Which is why it will be a valid excuse to leave if it’s too much.” She swiped the wand along her lashes with practice.

“I guess, but it seems kinda, I don’t know...going somewhere you don’t like when you’re already stressed about seeing him feels like adding fuel to the fire.”

Chloe dropped the mascara into its spot in her counter organizer. Everything had a space now and things needed to be returned to their spots after being used and not left to clutter. That had been an exercise she’d been working on since starting therapy.

The Chloe five months ago would’ve had makeup scattered along the vanity, piles of clothes around the room, and ancient takeout in the fridge. Present Chloe was trying to do better about taking care of herself and her space. She was surprised to find what a mental relief it had been once she’d actually stopped bitching and started organizing her apartment. She’d let her therapist know how dumb she thought the whole thing was and still wasn’t planning on admitting how much it’d helped her anytime soon.

“I should text and cancel.” Chloe picked up her phone. “Thanks, Adrien.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up yet. That’s not what I’m saying.” There was a murmur on his end of the line and his reply was inaudible.

“Is that Marinette or Nino?”

“You know, it could be someone else. I know more than three people.”

Chloe smiled as she opened her lipstick. “Sure you do, Adrikins. So which one is it?”

“Marinette. She’s cooking dinner.”

“Mmhmm.”

“What I was going to say is that I think you should meet Nath somewhere else. If you’re going to the cat cafe, you’re already looking for an excuse for it not to work and if that’s the case, just call it off all together.”

She rolled the lipstick all the way up and then back down into the tube. “What if I’m not sure if I want it to work?”

“Tell him you need more time.”

“It’s been months though.” She could hear his steady breathing on the line and it was a comfort. Adrien was the only person who’d known her most of her life and had seen the best and the worst of her and was still there.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he reminded her gently. “If you aren’t ready, you aren’t ready, and if Nathaniel moves on, he moves on. You’ve both got to do what’s right for you.”

Chloe looked at her reflection, her shiny ponytail and her perfect makeup and her lovely jewelry, and she knew she wasn’t leaving her apartment. “I’m not ready,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if it was a confession or just fear and doubt.

___

Cancelling her coffee date with Nathaniel had thrown Chloe into a funk. She cancelled dinner with Adrien and Marinette the following week and called in sick for her therapy session. She ordered takeout every night and did the bare minimum she could get away with at work. Her phone died days ago and she’d never bothered to put it on the charger. She knew she was slipping, but she was finding it hard to care.

She was moving from watching television on the couch to her bedroom one night two or so weeks after cancelling the date when there was a knock on her apartment door. After the initial surprise of a visitor wore off, she glared at the door as another knock sounded out.

“What?” she barked, crossing her arms.

“Chloe?”

Her heart jumped into her throat at the sound of his voice.

Nathaniel was at her door.

She looked around the trashed living room with slight panic. This wasn’t how he was supposed to see her after this long. She had her shit together now. She took care of herself. The next time they saw each other, she was supposed to be able to show how well she was doing. She wanted to look pretty and she was currently going on day three without a proper shower.

Maybe he would go away if she didn’t answer. It wasn’t like he could wait in the hall all night. The terrifying thought that he still had his key struck her like a bolt of lightning and she crouched down behind the couch as if he could somehow see her through the door.

“I’m sorry for just stopping by like this,” Nathaniel said, voice muffled through the door. “But after you didn’t reply to my texts and calls, I got a little worried. Adrien said maybe I should stop by?”

Chloe scowled at a greasy box of old Chinese takeout by her feet on the floor. She was going to kill Adrien.

“He said he hasn’t been able to get in touch with you either for a few days and he’s worried.” There was a weighted pause. “Hey, Chlo, you don’t have to open the door or anything, but can you just let me know if you’re okay?”

She was tempted not to reply. There was a small, twisted part of her that wanted him to worry. She wanted him to be afraid something had happened to her and she wanted him to blame himself for it.

Chloe took in a deep breath and shook away those thoughts. That wasn’t the person she wanted to be. She went to the door. “I’m here,” she said. Her voice wasn’t loud but she could hear Nathaniel’s sigh of relief on the other side. She slid down to the plush carpet and leaned against the door. “I’m okay.”

“Okay...okay, good. Thank you.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

No. She didn’t. She really didn’t. But she didn’t want him to come in either.

“No,” she finally answered. “But I need you to stay out there.” There was a thud against the door that didn’t quite feel like a knock and Nathaniel’s next words rang out clearer as if he’d sat down by the door as well.

“That’s fine,” he said. “It sounds like you’re sitting so I’m going to sit too.”

“You’re just going to sit in the hall?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“How have you been?”

Chloe snorted and picked at the chipping pale gold polish on her thumbnail. “The jury’s still out on that one. How about you?”

“I’m fine. Not fine, fine, but...fine.” There was a long pause. “I really miss you.”

She felt relieved and scared at the same time. “I miss you too,” she replied after a minute of strained silence. “I’ve, uh, I’ve been going to therapy. I started after you, after we...well, you know.” She felt her face flush. She wasn’t ashamed of going to therapy, not really, but it suddenly felt like a very private thing. But it was also something she wanted him to know. It was complicated.

“How’s it been?”

“Sometimes it sucks and sometimes it really helps.”

“I’ve heard that about therapy..”

She didn’t quite laugh, the sound she made coming out more choked than happy. “Yeah, it’s definitely something. I think it’s been mostly a good thing though.”

“I’m really glad,” Nathaniel replied.

Chloe pressed her cheek against the door and imagined she could feel his warmth through it. “I’m really sorry, Nathaniel,” she said quietly. “I was awful to you. I’ve been awful to so many people but I never should’ve hurt you.” She was tense as she waited for a reply.

“I could’ve stayed,” he said. “I could’ve tried to understand or...we could’ve gotten help together or something. It’s not all on you.”

“I needed to get myself straightened out for me before I could be someone to you or anyone else. I’ve been learning that slowly. It’s not the easiest thing.”

“No, it’s not.” The door shifted as Nathaniel adjusted his position. “I’m glad you’re okay, Chlo. I’ve been worried about you but I was trying to give you your space.”

“Thank you for that. I...I needed it.”

“I’m sorry if showing up tonight made things hard.”

Chloe smiled at the door and traced her finger along the ridges in the wood. “I think this is actually exactly what I needed.”

“Oh, that’s...I’m really glad then.”

She imagined what his smile looked like; she could hear it in his words.

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m pressuring you though,” he continued. “After our coffee date getting cancelled and then hearing that Adrien hadn’t been able to get in touch with you either, I couldn’t keep myself from coming over. I’ll try to keep my distance again though. You take as much time as you need.”

The locks on her door shined in the light and Chloe was tempted to reach up and undo them. She wanted to whisk Nathaniel back into the apartment they’d shared and maybe it could be like this nightmare had never happened. The last half a year could fade away into a hazy memory.

But she needed to remember. She didn’t want to fall back into bad patterns. She wanted to keep evolving and changing and becoming the person she hoped to be.

“I want you to come in,” she said, “but not tonight. Soon, but not yet.”

“Soon sounds good. Just don’t shut everyone out, okay, Chlo? Even if you aren’t ever ready for me, make sure you reach out when you need someone.”

She hugged herself and felt strangely happy. “I will,” she promised. “And I want to be ready for you, Nath. I’m working on it.”

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

“Good.” She stretched and stood, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m going to do some stuff around here but I’ll call you when I’m ready, okay?” She listened as he got to his feet on the other side of the door.

“That sounds great. Thanks for talking to me tonight. It made me really happy.”

“Me too. Goodnight, Nathaniel.”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

She pressed her palm to the door and imagined he was doing the same. After a long few seconds, she stepped away and surveyed her living room. With a decided nod, she went to her kitchen to get a trash bag. She swept all of the takeout containers and miscellaneous trash into a bag and straightened up around the room. The whole apartment could use a good cleaning but that would be for another day.

With a content sigh, she went to her bedroom and crawled into bed. She turned on the television and cuddled in her blankets and felt right. She had slipped. She’d had a funk. She’d let herself fall, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get up again. Nothing was set in stone.

She would keep growing because she wanted to, and she would take life a day at a time and that would be just fine.

Buy me a cherry coke?

#chlonath #chloe bourgeois #nathaniel kurtzberg #miraculous ladybug

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never-not-ever · 4 years

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How the fuck does she fall asleep so fast?! God I wish I could do that again. I mean I also could take my meds but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I forgot about my two appointments tomorrow until just now and now I’m anxious and overthinking and fuck. The first one is with my group therapist who I haven’t seen since I stopped group in November. I left on good terms hence her allowing me to come back to group but I have to do an individual session first and I’m just not looking forward to it especially since it’s going to be virtual.

The second one is with my therapist and I was supposed to send my diary card tonight. I haven’t even been tracking anything, granted I could do it before our appointment at 1 but like I said I haven’t tracked anything so what’s the point. I’m so tempted to just cancel them both. Like I don’t want to do this. I’ve already met with her virtually and it was “okay” but still awkward.

As of right now my FMLA is approved til May 11th. My psychiatrist at residential faxed over a letter and put that date cause that’s when I’m supposed to see my outpatient psychiatrist but like I’m not going to be ready to go back to work by then and I don’t know how to ask some guy I’ve never met before to send another extension letter along with an extension letter to the short term disability people. Like this is just stressing me out and I feel like the closer May 11th gets the worse my mood is going to drop. Guess this could be something to talk about in therapy...

And it’s so fucking hot in our bedroom and it’s gonna take me forever to fall asleep. The end.

#personal #ignore my whining

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archieimagines · 5 years

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Mistakes | Chin Ho Kelly One Shot

requested by: anon a/n: this is two requests merged into one. we hope you like it! warnings: VIOLENCE, alcohol, kidnapping, attempted stockholm syndrome, blood, starvation words: 2,109 el’s note; Please, do not read this piece if you are triggered by any of the above warnings, this piece does become semi-graphic and I don’t want anyone to be affected by it by reading it without caution! If not, please enjoy!

You had been looking forward to spending the night with your good friend Chin. Well, he was your friend that you wanted more than anything to be more.

You were one of the few people to stand by him when he was accused of stealing the drugs from the HPD evidence locker. You had stood by him when Malia had left him. You had been his biggest supporter when he joined the 5-0. You had always stood by him, it was the least you could do, but you sometimes wished you could have helped him get his old job back. But you were only a history professor, one of the best in the country, but still only a professor.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you placed the baking tray on the cooling rack.You had cooked all yours and Chin’s favourite foods and snacks, having planned a marathon of Police Academy. But you looked at the clock on your wall, noticing that he was late, it was odd, he was always big on being on time. You checked your phone to see if he had messaged you that he was going to be late. Nothing. Biting your lip you decided to wait before calling him. 30 minutes passed and still he hadn’t come. Grabbing your phone, you pressed his contact and the phone began to ring.

“Hello.” His voice sounded happy, music was on in the distance, what the song was you couldn’t tell due to the chatter in the background.

“I was calling to see why you were running late.”

“Late for?”

“The marathon, Chin.”

“Oh, I must have forgotten to text you. I’m out with Malia.”

“…Chin, I slaved away in the kitchen just to make sure that we could have fun tonight.”

“I appreciate that, I do. But Malia and I bumped into each other and got to talking. So we—“

“And you thought you’d just drop me?”

“Well, it’s not that important.”

“Not important? Well according to you standards then, it’s not important that she thought you stole those drugs and left you!” Recoiling as you shouted it at your phone.

“You’re really bringing that up! You want to bring up exes, I can do that too. What did happen to that Graham guy? Oh yeah, he left you because the only thing you love more than yourself is the past! So why don’t you focus on yours and not mine? Cause unlike you, I actually want to hang out with Maria right now.” Your hands shook as you lowered the phone from your ear, tears running down your face. Graham had been your longterm boyfriend of 2 years, but had cheated and left you for a model. Chin knew how much that had hurt you, he had been the one to find you in the bath cradling a bottle of whisky.

The sadness was soon replaced by rage, so much that you threw one of your wine glasses across the room, the shattering feeling slightly cathartic. You then threw the other one, finding delight in your blinding rage. Ignoring the mess, you opened the bottle of wine drinking it without a glass. Stumbling over to couch, you switched the tv on, pressing play on the first movie of the marathon, unaware of the figure approaching from behind.

“You alright cousin?” Kono’s worried tone made Chin look up from his desk.

“What?”

“You look really down. The marathon go alright?” Regret washed over him, he knew he shouldn’t have mentioned Graham, but you also shouldn’t have brought up the incident. So in his mind, the comments made by the both of you cancelled each other out.

“I didn’t up going.”

“What, why?” She asked, coming into his office fully.

“Well Malia and I—“ Kono scoffed, looking away from him. “What?”

“You ditched them for Malia? After everything she did to you?”

“I had every intention of calling to explain. But then she called and brought up the incident.”

“Because they’ve stood by you through everything and you still put them second.”

“I don’t put th—“

“You do! They’ve dropped everything in the past to make sure your alright, but you still choose the woman who left you for something you didn’t do.”

“I haven’t chosen Malia over—“

“Guys, we got a case. Danny’s already on the scene.” Steve informed them before rushing out to his car. He and Kono nodded in response, Kono turning back to give him one last glare, he knew she’d be bringing this up again.

Chin had decided to drive with Steve, his mind mulling over his entire relationship with you, going over all the times you had cancelled dates, meetings, parties just to be with him when he needed it. It was so much in his mind that he didn’t realise they had pulled up to your house. Dread filled his gut, his eyes met with Kono’s, her face morphed in terror. The pair proceeded to storm inside.

The house was a wreck, the couch turned over, shattered glass and spilt wine all over the floor. Worst of all was the copious amount of blood throughout the living room and kitchen. Chin’s heart dropped when he saw what was left of the food you had prepared last night. He saw Danny talking to a CSI, writing things down hurriedly. He looked around further, hoping he wouldn’t stumble across a body bag.

“Looks like a struggle took place after a forced entry. The blood splatter on the wall and remnants on one of the knives indicates that the victim fought back, possibly injuring the attacker before they were taken.”

“So our guy might be walking around with a noticeable gash in neck?

“Yes.”

“Thanks, keep us posted with any new finds.” Danny turned away from the CSI, finishing his notes, Chin walked up filled with anxiety.

“Where are they?”

“You know the vic?”

“Yeah, we were—are best friends. We were supposed to be watching a marathon last night. I was supposed to be here last night.” He trailed off, realisation dawning on him that he could have prevented this. Danny lead him outside, proceeding to ask him questions about you, your career, dating history and if you had any possible enemies. He did the same with Kono, who answered the same as him, her hand gripping on tightly to his own.

Steve made the executive decision to keep them both off the case, they could assist with information and from headquarters, but were not to engage with suspects or take the investigation into their own hands. Chin was there when Steve and Danny informed your parents, your mother crying into your father’s arms as it was explained to them that the phone lines were being tapped so that if any ransom calls came through they could be traced.

Chin felt like he was in limbo for the next two weeks, there had been no word from any kidnappers or from you. He had even heard Steve and Danny quietly discussing if they should start treating the case like a murder. It made his stomach churn, but he couldn’t let that stop him.

He was re-watching the security tape of your house from across the street, when he saw a familiar face in the bushes next to your house. It was Graham, he was dressed all in black, slinking quietly to your front door to force open the front door.

He had to tell Steve and Danny.

For the past two weeks you had been locked in the basement of Graham’s house, he had revealed to you that he planned to keep you there for the rest of your life. Apparently his supermodel girlfriend had left him, so his first thought was to kidnap you. He had given you a good beating for attacking him with the wine bottle you’d been cradling. From his actions during those two weeks, you guessed he wanted you to ‘fall in love’ with him again and to be his housewife. And for the past two weeks you had tried to convince him to let you go, you had gotten close several times.

He was now pacing in front of you, he was paranoid that someone was going to find you, that you didn’t love him like he loved you. That tangent you had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. His hair was unkept, dark circles under his eyes, he looked more deranged than before. From your mattress in the corner you could hear him muttering to himself.

“Graham, maybe if you let me go…you wouldn’t have to worry about being found. I promise I won’t tell, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You promised while crawling as close to him as possible before the chains on your ankles and wrists tightened.

“No, no, no, you just want to leave me. You can’t do that, you’re mine.”

“What if…what if after you let me go…what if we started dating again, properly?” He perked up at the suggestion. Bile rose in your throat, but you’d say…do anything to get away from him. “Yeah, maybe we could even get married. You want that, don’t you? Big wedding with the rings, priest and veil.”

“You’d be mine forever.”

“Yes, just you and me against the world.” His smile made your stomach twist, he walked over to you, just as he started to lean down as loud crashing came from above. Multiple voices could be heard shouting. Your instincts kicked in pushing Graham over and screamed for help.

Graham shouted and punched on top of you, easily overpowering your starved body. His hands clasped tightly around your neck, cutting off your airways. You pried at his hands, trying to get him off you. Your eyes looked into his, but it was if he wasn’t there. Just as your vision began to fade, the door to the basement was ripped open. He squeezed tighter before he was suddenly ripped off you. His frame replaced by Chin, his eyes full of horror and worry.

“Ch-Ch-…”

“Don’t, don’t talk. I got you, I got you, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

It was a month later, you had almost completely healed physically from the ordeal, the only visual remnants of the time was the bruising on your neck. But as your therapist made it clear to you, there was still a long time to go before you were mentally healed. He was working with you to heal and handle your PTSD.

It was after one of these sessions that Chin had come over to your new place, you having moved, not able to live in the last one after Graham. The pair of you chatted for a while, at one point Danny, Steve and Kono came over to check-in with you. You had grown fond of the two men, thanking the profusely for saving you, which they always replied that it was Chin who figured out it was Graham.

“So, how’s Malia?” You asked after the silence between the two of you had lasted for several minutes.

“I don’t know, I haven’t spoke to her in the past couple of weeks.” He admitted, but what you found strange was that he didn’t look sad about it.

“Oh, I just thought you and her were trying again…” You muttered, to which he shrugged.

“I guess I realised she wasn’t the one I want to be with.” His eyes meeting with yours, the look in them making it obvious to you what he meant. You immediately blushed, you had been wanting this for so long, but one major issue was in your way.

“I really want that to, but after everything with Graham, I don’t think I can…” You played with your fingers, the nerves eating away at you. His hands, stilled yours, bringing them to his lips and kissing them gently.

“I know, I’m not saying to jump into anything straight away. I just want you to know, that I’m done making the same mistakes of not realising that everything I was looking for in Malia was already in you. And that I’ll wait for you to be ready.” His profession made your heart swell and brought tears to your eyes. Which he gently wiped away with his thumb, his face was so close to yours you that you couldn’t breathe. He leant forward to kiss you gently before pulling away. “Though I’d like to do that quite a lot if you’d allow it.”

“I’ll allow it.” You breathed out, leaning in for another, ignoring his soft laughter.

written by: el

#written by el #chin ho kelly #hawaii 5-0 #chin ho kelly hawaii 5-0 #imagine #oneshot #chin ho kelly imagine #hawaii 5-0 imagine #reader #reader x chin ho kelly #chin ho kelly oneshot #hawaii 5-0 oneshot #daniel dae kim #daniel dae kim imagine #daniel dae kim oneshot #trigger warning #written by spaz

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otherpeoplescreativity · 4 years

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As is the tradition, I start a personal this-is-not-keen type post by doing a single dot and then a “Keep reading” cut. For those of you on the Mobile, if the cut fails, please scroll like mad unless you’re up for some

Big

Time

Exasperation.

Right? Right.

So couples therapy was tonight. We had a month worth of catching up to do because our family of choice had the December from Heck, but that’s not a patch on how our therapist’s truck got Hit. By. Lightning with, you know, him IN IT, while it was in MOTION and all, on the evening we were supposed to have a previous session. Which had been canceled on account of the weather.

Dude.

Anyway. Therapy session got into gear and it was not all sunshine and hypoallergenic rose petal substitutes. Which I kind of expected -- spouse has been socially retreating more often over the past two days, that’s about on schedule for the emotional cycles established over the past 20 years, I figured we were gearing up for a snarlfest anyway.

But, you know, I’m still going in with the attitude that we are here to solve our problems. As a team. We’re going to collude.

(I’m a slow-learning sucker.)

(I do this to myself. I know this. And yet.)

I could reasonably sum up our meta-issue as being that we strongly disagree on what complex behaviors are that individual’s choices versus involuntary outgrowths of specific forms of neurodiversity versus involuntary responses to externally imposed conditions, and that this disagreement has a critical impact on even defining a specific issue between us.

But here’s the thing:

I got a phone call when we were almost home, from someone who likes me As I Am and wanted to have a pleasant, light-hearted chat. Mostly about that person’s current life, and their portion of the December from Heck.

And spouse has not spoken to me, not even in acknowledgement of something I said, since my phone rang.

He just went to bed.

Still giving me the silent treatment.

Shut his bedroom door pretty hard in passing, too.

Fuck it. You know?

#The silent treatment ceases to be developmentally appropriate around age 5 #now we are so much more than six #personal #relationship stuff

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themiddlelayer · 5 years

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Therapy was cancelled

My therapist was on vacation for a few weeks then my night classes made it so that I couldn’t make our usual Tuesday night time last week. This morning I got a text from her saying that she had to cancel tonight. This marks 4 weeks since our last session.

I’d been thinking a lot about what I was going to tell her about the last 3 weeks. Things have been getting better in general, but my depression and crying spells have been happening more frequently. This morning was one of those mornings.

Once again, my nightmares were about being left and I woke up wanting to cry. I pushed myself out of bed early enough to take a shower because I didn’t want to have to take one as late as I would have been out with my therapy appointment. I knew, rationally... like I always do, that it was just a dream. MM and I have moved past that place. And I’m no longer so much as facebook friends with ExH who is typically the star of those nightmares. Rationally, I knew all of that which made me feel like an even bigger crazy person for sobbing in the shower before shaving my legs.

I see it. I know it. But I can’t feel it... I AM SAFE. I HAVE A HOME. I HAVE A HUSBAND WHO LOVES ME AND IS WORKING HIS ASS OFF TO SHOW ME HOW IMPORTANT I AM. I KNOW all of that. And yet, this perpetual state of fear just won’t let up.

It feels like I’ve got a literal brain defect that keeps all of my emotions locked away from reality. Reality is that I have a really great life. I always have. There were things between me and MM before the quad that weren’t okay, and by the time the quad happened I had begun speaking up. Those things have changed. MM asks permission before putting his hand on my knee in the car, before hugging me or kissing me hello or goodnight. He is aware of my agency and doesn’t react when I tell him no. He has proven to me that I have the right to say no and to be in control of my life. And all I want, if I’m honest, is to be able to feel safe enough to go back to the place where I didn’t have to be in control.

The job stuff was the last straw for me. I’m trying to stay positive and look for the silver linings in the changes, but I can’t shake the anger and frustration of having my daily classes taken away. Having to get up, put on make-up and be “on” with a smile on my face is what got me through the last few months. I know this because for the few weeks I didn’t have classes after the quad imploded, I just sat at my desk and cried most days.

We have a team meeting tomorrow so hopefully we’ll have more clear direction. This morning I had an e-mail from my boss saying that the team is supposed to implement the new structure in 10 days with a plan presented by Thursday (in 2 days). At the same time, we were told that the new structure would be starting next week on the 29th. We’ve already moved all of the personnel issues to the managers. I had to basically coach a manager about how to fire a student yesterday.

My boss’s e-mail also talked about how it’s going to mean long hours and possibly some weekends. Fuck that! They just decide to completely restructure, removing the thing in this job that brings me genuine satisfaction and joy with less than 2 weeks notice and we are supposed to bust our asses to get it together? What’s the expression... a lack of planning on your part does not constitute and emergency on mine.

I’m also battling either allergies or a cold. I can’t tell which. MM is bringing home curry for me tonight and I’m planning on just staying on the couch until bedtime tonight.

Tomorrow will be a new day, right?

#mental health #mental illness #therapy #work stuff

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natkat-140 · 6 years

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World Mental Health Day

Today, October 10th, is World Mental Health Day. I thought it might be appropriate to share some things.

*This isn’t me trying to bitch about being sad. I’ve got a rad therapist for that :) I believe that transparency is important in destigmatization of mental health (and other) issues. Visibility and social acceptance will help to decrease the shame that people might feel, preventing them from reaching out for help.

**I’m also not trying to claim that this is “how depression and anxiety” are or how to treat either one. I’m simply sharing my own personal experiences and what has and has not worked for me.

I’ve been struggling with anxiety and depression for several years now, but I always managed to brush it aside as a mood or a phase or a funk - anything other than depression - that was transient and dismissable. I felt I didn’t have a good enough reason to be depressed - I have a good job, great friends, a loving family; I’m able-bodied, I’m of sound mind, I haven’t had any recent traumas or abuse or huge losses. I felt like my life was not bad enough to be depressed. I often feel like I am not enough. (I felt like I wasn’t enough for depression. Talk about inadequacy issues, hah!)

Fake-it-till-you-make-it behavior can be shitty or constructive depending on how it’s done. I found myself exhibiting a lot of shitty fake-it-till-you-make-it behavior before I was able to confront my mental health and admit that I was depressed. I only listened to fun pop music and I made sure my room had lots of bright colors and I only watched comedy TV and I carried glowsticks everywhere and I went out partying 3x per week and I did my very best to make people laugh and I made sure everyone knew that I was having fun and that I was happy because then maybe I could convince myself that I was having fun and that I was happy. I was pretending to be the person I wanted to be. Fake it till you make it. It was only a temporary fix, a band-aid, because of the fact that I hadn’t confronted the reason(s) why I wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I could fake it till the cows came home, but I wouldn’t make it unless I accepted that I needed to do more than just faking it alone.

More like “FAKE-IT-TILL-YOU-are-able-to-identify-the-mental-illness-that-is-holding-you-hostage-and-then-take-steps-to-address-the-probably-deeply-rooted-issues-that-may-or-may-not-have-contributed-to-its-manifestation-and-work-on-managing-it-consistently-for-a-long-time-and-make-it-part-of-your-daily-life-to-take-better-care-of-yourself-and-don’t-beat-yourself-up-when-you’re-not-able-to-manage-it-that-well-but-always-try-to-get-back-on-that-goddamned-horse-so-that-you-can-fucking-MAKE-IT!”

You feel me?

This year, I got to a point where I couldn’t fake it to myself anymore. Even if I had fooled other people, I knew that I was kidding myself and that I couldn’t keep avoiding an obvious issue. I worked with my primary care physician (who, by the way, noticed early on in our patient-physician relationship that I was showing signs of depression and suggested I go to therapy like 3 years ago) and we decided that therapy had indeed become a very necessary treatment. I happened to have enough motivation that day to look up psychologists within my insurance network and research them individually to see if we’d be a good fit and I made a bunch of phone calls and left a bunch of messages and only ONE person called me back (BTW, WTF?) and he’s my therapist now and he’s amazing and I love going to therapy! And, good grief, did I NEED THERAPY.

So I magically got better after my first therapy session! Just kidding. I still felt like shit. I was still embarrassed and ashamed for feeling depressed when I had “no reason” to. I told my therapist about how I had been faking it, and that I knew I should stop doing that and that it was unhealthy. I was surprised when he suggested that I keep faking it. He said something like (paraphrasing) “For most people, motivation precedes action. When you’re depressed, sometimes you need to force the action to spark the motivation. You’ve acknowledged that your depression exists and you’re actively taking steps to manage it, you’re not being delusional, you’re not doing it to avoid a problem anymore. There is a healthy way to fake it.”

So I did. I often forced myself to go out when all I wanted to do was stay in my bed under the covers, safe from the judgement and criticism that I was sure I would receive from the world. I took photos of myself being goofy and smiling so that I could look at them and … visualize myself being goofy and smiling, hah. I made myself go anywhere but home so that I wouldn’t get sucked into the island of isolation that is my bed. It helped, a lot. A few times, the actions still weren’t quite enough and the motivation never came out but the monsters did and they weren’t the kind of monsters I could run from so they nested in my head and they feasted on my confidence and my self-worth and my rationality and shit out self-doubt and self-loathing and fear and hopelessness.

So I would be forced to house the monsters, temporarily. Eventually they’d die. Since April, I’ve had probably five or six mini-episodes of highly depressive states.

The monsters re-spawn, apparently.

This happened as recently as this past weekend. I stayed in bed for three days straight, leaving it only for the restroom or to receive my Doordash delivery. I went four days without showering or changing my clothes or having significant human contact. I would go through cycles of being harshly critical of myself, over-analyzing how others thought of me, feeling insignificant and worthless, deciding to give up on being happy, and drowning in tears of self-pity until I fell asleep. Think, cry, repeat.

I was forced out of bed on Monday for an appointment with my physician (and I showered!). Thank fucking goodness. That same day I saw my therapist. Thank fucking goodness.

I had nothing to do yesterday so I slept until like 2:30pm and since I had no reason to do anything, I did nothing. At least, until I had to get dressed for a birthday party, so I got dressed. I had lots of reasons to NOT go to the party, and I wrote out multiple cancellation texts and I thought about how the monsters knew exactly where the party was and they had been there before and what if they came out again tonight and I kept looking at my fucking bed and wanting to climb into it and feel the comfort of my comforter and the pretend comfort of my body pillow but then I remembered that I could feel very real comfort from laughter and hugs and songs so I deleted the texts and I went. I cried first and I had to redo my fucking makeup but I did that and then I went.

I went to my favorite bar with some of my favorite people and did some of my favorite things, and I was elated. I laughed and I sang and I danced and I hugged and I laughed more, and I wasn’t faking it this time. I made it! I MADE IT!

But guess the fuck what? I’m probably going to feel overwhelmingly anxious and depressed again real soon. I don’t want to, but realistically, yeah, it’s gonna happen. And guess the fuck also what? I’m gonna keep seeing my therapist and doing my gratitude exercises and catching my unhelpful thinking patterns and working through my negative automatic thoughts and breathing with my diaphragm in counts of four and two and six and

FAKING-IT-TILL-I-work-on-managing-my-depression-and-anxiety-consistently-for-a-long-time-and-make-it-part-of-my-daily-life-to-take-better-care-of-myself-and-I-won’t-beat-myself-up-when-I’m-not-able-to-manage-it-that-well-but-I-will-always-try-to-get-back-on-that-goddamned-horse-so-that-I-can-fucking-MAKE-IT!

...again.

#worldmentalhealthday #mentalhealth #anxiety #depression #fakeittillyoumakeit #world mental health day #mental health #fake it till you make it

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