#and you're fine with dumping him on us for weeks only seeing him for minutes at a time and now youre gonna take him home over break to get | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withleeknow · 3 months

Note

hiya! I noticed you have your requests open and if you don't mind, could I please suggest: "for once... I was right" with "don't you dare walk away from me" for Lee Know - maybe angsty but I don't mind you just going with the flow.

thank you!

blue hour.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ...? 🫢, angst; minho's pov mostly, open ending kinda, some light cursing, unedited don't look at me word count: 2.2k (i got carried away a little bit) listen to 🎧: breathe again - sara bareilles

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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“this should be the last of your things.”

“thanks,” you say, rummaging through the box that minho hands over to you. everything that you left at his place throughout the entire time you were together; every sweatshirt of yours in his closet, every piece of jewelry on his nightstand, every bottle of nail polish that you kept in his bathroom reserved for nights where you two would pamper each other. they're all here, except for... “did you see my red scarf though? i can’t find it anywhere.”

“no, i checked,” he says. “this is everything.”

“hmm, okay.”

you hold the box between your arms, and minho can’t help but feel something twist painfully in his chest. it’s like you're holding your relationship, or what’s left of it anyway, ready to make your swift exit from his life. two years of love, all dumped into one stupid cardboard box.

you both stand there in silence for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, then at your surroundings, neither of you saying anything. minho knows why he hasn’t bid you a farewell goodnight yet; it’s because he doesn’t want this to end. even though it’s a sad occasion, the finale to your story, he still wants to the seconds to stretch on, for the minutes to last longer. after all, isn’t this the last time he'll ever see you?

why you haven’t left him to his devices and gone upstairs, he isn’t sure.

another moment passes. life goes on but it seems like you two are in your own bubble where nothing moves forward. everything stays rooted to the spot.

“do you want to go for a walk?” you ask after a while. the question surprises minho enough that he lets it show, and it makes you quickly tack on an excuse. “the weather is nice and i... i don’t want to be on my own.”

yes, he does want to go for a walk with you. anything to be with you even if it’s only for a moment longer.

“sure,” he says. “let’s go for a walk.”

“okay. i’ll leave this upstairs and get my jacket.”

he watches as you disappear inside your building, only to reemerge momentarily afterward, a wool jacket draped over your frame. he wishes you’d worn something lighter, just so he could have an excuse to wrap his arm around your shoulders if it gets colder.

you walk side by side around your neighborhood, a distance between your bodies that never used to be there before. it’s strange, of course it is. but minho supposes this is yours and his new reality now.

“how are the cats?” you ask.

“they’re okay. dori had a cold a couple weeks ago, but everything’s fine now,” he tells you. “they... they miss you.”

i miss you too - that's a thought that he doesn’t say out loud, only keeps it to himself because it feels too humiliating to utter those words to you.

“they’re cats. how can you tell?”

“i can always tell.” he shrugs. “they wait by the door when i’m already home. they sleep on your-... they sleep on the other side of the bed.”

if you notice his slip up, you don’t say anything. you purse your lips and nod somberly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “they’ll forget about me soon enough,” you say.

minho glances at you. he wants to rebuke that statement, to argue with you over something as silly as whether or not his freaking cats will retain their memories of you in the future. but he just bites his tongue and swallows down the lump in his throat, humming to let you know that he’s heard what you said. not a hum of agreement, just one of acknowledgement.

“how’s work?” he asks. god, it’s just so fucking weird to be asking you these things. you know each other inside and out and yet, you’re here making small talk.

torn apart when all you two should be is together.

“it’s alright. still the same, kinda boring. you know there’s not a lot that can happen in that place in one month.”

yes, because it’s been a little over a month since you parted ways, since you moved back into your old apartment and left his home perpetually cold and empty. he can’t blame you for leaving when he was the one who agreed to break up. he can’t blame you for his heartache when he was the one who broke your heart first.

he didn’t mean to, but isn’t that what they all say?

“do you still want to leave?”

“sure,” you reply. “if i can find something better, i’d leave that place in a heartbeat. but for now, it’ll have to do. it used to be a bit more bearable though.”

“i hope you find something that makes you happier.”

“thanks.” you give him a smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. “how about you? how’s life?”

minho almost says the first thing that comes into mind. life is terrible without you. i think about you every single minute of every day but you're not here and it’s my own damn fault.

he could lie and come up with something much more palatable, because he doesn’t reckon his truth is something you’d like to hear right now.

but he doesn’t want to lie to you. in the time that you were together, minho never lied to you, not even once, not even over something stupid and insignificant. beside, he’s got a feeling that you would see through his bullshit anyway.

his answer ends up being a sad shrug, then, “it’s life. i’m hanging in there.”

your footsteps slow until you stop completely. this makes him stop too, turning around to look at you with his head tilted to one side, confused.

“it’s not like you to sound so defeated,” you comment.

“what?” he asks with a sigh. “it’s the truth.”

“it’s not the whole truth.”

“what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to be honest with me,” you tell him, your shoulders slumping just slightly. “i still care about you. i want to know you’re okay.”

minho takes a step closer until he’s right in front of you, the closest that you two have been all night. his body feels the warmth radiating from yours but he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching you.

“if you really want to know, i haven’t been myself since you left.”

guilt flashes in your eyes. it wasn’t his intention at all.

you bite your bottom lip, inhale a shaky breath, before you speak, “i’m sorry for leaving.”

“don’t apologize. i’m sorry for driving you away.”

then he watches the tears well up as you look at him. he’s been wondering this the whole night, how you seem so cavalier about it all, how you’re able to speak to him so casually as if you’re just old friends with some shared history, and not as though the wound is still fresh. he’s still bleeding and you’re acting like you’ve already healed.

but he sees it now. you’re just as sad as he is, just as miserable. the only difference is you’re better at hiding it, or maybe you’ve just had more time to get used to the way it hurts.

is this how you felt in the weeks, the months, leading up to your departure? every time he neglected you, prioritized something else over you, missed every date and overlooked every text message? every single instance where he was too busy for you?

he never wanted to break your heart, but alas, here you are.

he didn’t want you to go, and yet, when you felt like you couldn’t handle the loneliness anymore, he hadn’t stopped you from walking out the door. he gave up, and he gave up so easily.

nothing along the lines of ‘don’t you dare walk away from me’, no tearful argument, no explosive and definitive end to your relationship. minho just let your love slip away.

how must that have made you feel on top of everything that he did - or didn’t do - to you?

minho has been called every variation of ‘cold’ before. to everyone else, he’s callous, rough, intimidating and unapproachable. but to you, he’s kind, soft, gentle and loving. it never mattered what anyone thought of him, as long as you always knew that he loved you, that you saw him for who he was.

but toward the end, what if you saw him how the others did? what if you had deemed him cold too?

the mere thought makes him sick to his stomach.

you sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “you don’t have to say that. it’s in the past now.”

fracture upon fracture upon fracture. minho doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take.

his fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for your hands. to his surprise, you let him.

your hands, so delicate in his, so warm.

“i should’ve fought harder for you,” he says, his voice so small that you barely catch the words at all.

but his eyes… he hopes you can see it in his eyes - the regret, the longing, the pain of losing you dimming the light of the stars he holds there.

giving his hands a light squeeze, you say, “and maybe i should’ve held on tighter instead of letting go.”

“i made you feel like you weren’t enough. it’s the worst thing i ever did to you. i understand why you left.”

you try to calm your breathing, because you really don’t feel like breaking down in front of him right now. you don’t say anything in response; what are you even supposed to say? you told him everything that you wanted to the night that you two broke up. everything that you tried to bottle up for months was laid on the table that night. you watched as he listened to you, watched as his heart broke alongside yours. that was it.

“i… i’m sorry,” minho stutters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks scared. “i’m sorry. can’t we try again? i swear i won’t let you down again. i swear to you.”

“min…” the nickname slips out of habit and for a second there, minho thinks you would say yes. but then… “i know you’re sorry. i know we didn’t break things off because we fell out of love. but i don’t think you’re at a point in your life where i can be the most important thing right now. you may not mean to, but there’ll be things that you prioritize over me… and i’m not at a place in my life where i can settle for being on someone’s back burner either. the timing’s just off. it’s not your fault, life just got in the way.”

minho stares at you, the stars dying out one by one. the hurt is beyond what any word can describe but in a way, he understands. it fucking sucks, but he gets it. he has to accept it now.

he nods solemnly, tracing odd patterns on your palms. then he asks, quietly, “can i hold you? just for a while.”

please indulge me, he thinks. this is the last thing i’ll ever ask from you.

you don’t reply with words. instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. you two stay there in each other’s embrace for god knows how long. it could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours. you always lose track of time when you’re wrapped up together.

you hold him like he - tough and intimidating minho - is made of glass, and he holds you like he doesn’t ever want to let you go.

but he has to eventually.

you untangle yourself from him to find that he’s been crying. the tears on his cheeks catch the light from the street lamps, reflecting like crystals in the night. when you wipe them away, you tell him, “for once, i was right.”

“about what?” he sniffles.

“you really are a hopeless romantic,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. as much as you can anyway. “i knew you’d prove me right one day.”

minho wants to scoff but his eyes are burning from the tears and his throat feels like it's closing up, so he lets you have this one. the last one, right?

maybe he is a romantic, and maybe it’s only for you. maybe it makes him a little hopeless.

the walk back to yours ends too quickly. but truth be told, even if you had walked together until the sun came up, it still wouldn’t have been long enough for him.

you both stand there, two heavy hearts looking at each other, looking for one another.

there’s no goodbye, only goodnight.

and you’re the one who says it first.

minho returns your sentiment with a choked up voice, a brush of his fingers against yours, and when you finally turn to walk up the steps, his gaze lingers on your retreating figure.

then he calls your name softly. “hey, uhm... i’ll let you know if the scarf turns up, okay?”

you turn back with a knowing smile. it’s still sad, but there’s some faith hidden there.

“i hope it will.”

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Text

can't hurry love |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a little blurb about older!dilf!eddie and reader adjusting to life as parents, which includes learning to have quickies where they can.

contains: domestic fluff. age gap relationship. reader is thirty-three, eddie is forty-nine. dad!eddie x mom!reader. fluff and smut. minors DNI 18+. quickie p in v sex.

Eddie was sure if he heard 'Let It Go' one more time he was going to scream, rip his hair out and shove it into his ears so he didn't have to hear the song ever again. He thought Strawberry Shortcake was bad, but it was nothing compared to this- a new level of hell that Delilah insisted on playing on a loop over and over and over. He figured it was probably because of her new Elsa dress, a costume blue replica of the character's that came with all the accessories- including a very tangled and tattered wig that you were "fixing". He had Wayne to thank for that, the old man could never say no to either of his grand babies.

Eddie was going to make sure he put the idea in Lilah's head to make Poppa watch the sing-along version the next time he dropped her off, give him a taste of his own medicine; but he knew deep down Wayne wouldn't mind.

"Delilah," You called carefully, padding into the living room with a basket full of her clothes on your hip, ready to be washed from the week before. "I think it's time for us to go lay down."

Eddie cringed, the soft whimper of shock, rounding eyes and a pout that made his heart lurch in his chest, followed by the expectant whine, loud and shrill. "Noooo..." Delilah stomped her foot. "No, Mama, we're not done with the movie!"

You looked at Eddie, lips pursed. You knew he'd cave if she begged too much, and you wanted to stop it before it started. "Delilah," You warned lifting a brow. "You gotta have a nap, baby. You'll be so mean and cranky if you don't."

"Daddy, tell her no." Delilah whined, climbing into Eddie's lap, curling into his chest. Your lips twitched, biting back a smile. You wanted to be irritated, but you couldn't. Three years old and already knew exactly how to play Eddie so he'd bend to her every whim. You wished you were surprised, but between you and Brielle, she was bound to learn the ways of the women around her.

Eddie's eyes softened, cradling her head into his chest, stroking her soft curls. He looked up at you pleadingly. "Just a few more minutes," He said, face melting. He looked down, Delilah's tiny fist rubbing her eyes as she fought back a yawn, easing into his chest and relaxing under his touch.

You tsked, lifting a brow at him. "Eddie, we talked about this." You warned quietly. You had been trying for weeks to get Delilah to go to sleep on her own, starting to ween her out of long snuggles and holding her until she fell asleep. She would start school in only a few years, and didn't need to be coddled like that and make it worse on herself.

Eddie had been less than thrilled. He loved nothing more than cuddling with his baby before she went to bed, reading her a story, his readers perched on his nose doing animated voices that riled her up more than soothed her. Often, especially if he was working at the shop late, it was the only time he got with her. He was so pouty when you talked to him about it the first time, petulant with huffy grumbles and protest, but he knew you were right.

"Just give us a few minutes, please?" Eddie's face contorted into a small smile. "The troll songs about to come on, then we'll go nap after that. Right, Pickles?"

Delilah giggled, half her face still resting on her dad's chest, her eyes still trained on the movie. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fine, I'll go start this load and then you're going to take a nap, missy." You pointed at Delilah, who huffed and whined. Eddie's gruff, soothing voice peppering words and kisses into her hairline.

You dumped the clothes in, bending over to see a pair of your panties had dropped between the washer and dryer. You shimmied your hand down to snatch the clothing piece, blushing and rolling your lip between your teeth when you held it in front of you. It was a lacy black pair, part of a set you bought for Eddie's birthday, that you must've dropped, seeing as it was still covered in your release and his, dried and crusted on the black fabric.

Your legs squeezed together at the memory. You'd taken Eddie to the bar, meeting all his friends for his birthday, even bringing a cake to share at the small booth you rented out, everyone drunkenly serenading the birthday boy. The real surprise was when you got home. Madeline had offered to watch Delilah for the night, ecstatic to see her niece and spend time with her, so you had the house to just the two of you. As soon as you'd shown Eddie the lingerie set, he'd bent you over the arm of the couch, pounding into you relentlessly, not even bothering to take the panties off.

That had been over two weeks ago.

The shift from fucking each other anytime you wanted to with no worries, to having to sneak and worry about being interrupted by the baby monitor or tiny feet padding to your room was a hard adjustment for both of you. Even for Eddie, who had done it once before, it was still hard.

You poured the detergent in, tossing your panties in the wash, before starting the machine. You placed the basket on top, lips twisting in thought before walking back into the living room.

Delilah was heavy lidded, curled into Eddie's chest nearly half asleep when you stepped in front of the TV, hands on your hips. "Nap time, sweet girl." You cooed, turning off the television.

Delilah cried, angry and irritated, burying her face in Eddie's chest. "No, Mama, no!" She wailed, clinging to Eddie tightly. "Tell her no, Daddy!"

"I don't think that will matter, baby cakes." Eddie snorted lightly, running a hand down her back. "You know Mama's the boss lady around here. You better listen to her."

You bit back a grin, shaking your head at him. "Lilah, let's go. C'mon, Mama will go tuck you in."

Delilah cried, fat, crocodile tears streamed down her little red face. You knew it was probably from exhaustion more than anything else. She always got so cranky after lunch. "I not tired!" Delilah lisped, her 'r' sounding more like a 'w', and it made Eddie's heart swell, holding her closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against her head sweetly.

"Here, baby, I'll come lay with you ok? Just until you go to sleep, and then when you wake up we can play with your toys some more, ok?" Eddie cooed sweetly, avoiding your hard gaze.

"No," You said, shaking your head. "I'll go put her down, and I need your help in the bedroom, please." You eyed him carefully.

Eddie's brows knitted in confusion, twisting with a questioning look. You blinked, eyes flickering to your room down the hall. "Just go wait for me, please." You grit though your teeth. "I've got a really bad itch and I need you to scratch it, please."

Eddie's eyes flashed in confusion before widening, bulging in realization. The euphemism wasn't great by a long shot, you were trying to talk in code in front of your toddler, who was more interested in crying and screaming than whatever you two were discussing. Eddie blushed, mouth running dry. He pressed a quick kiss to Delilah's cheek, muttering a small promise that soothed her a bit before her nap, then handing her off to you.

You looked at him over the top of Delilah's curls, nodding down the hall before going into her room.

Delilah went down fairly easy, too exhausted from the constant running and excitement of the day to whine and protest too long. You'd tucked her in before sitting outside her door to make sure she stayed in her bed, listening until her little cries turned into sniffles then silence, the noise machine drowning out her little snores. You peeked in the room, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light and the sun peeking through the drawn curtains, before tip toeing down the hall to yours and Eddie's room.

Eddie perked up when you walked in, eyes lighting up when you shut the door behind you. "Did you get her down?" Eddie asked eagerly, standing up.

You nodded, shimmying out of your sweatpants and pulling your shirt over your head. "Yes," You muttered, feeling his eyes gawk at your bare body. You didn't wait for whatever lewd and suggestive comment was on his tongue, pressing yourself against him, your lips catching his, tugging him in deeper and deeper into you.

Eddie's hands found the small of your back, calloused skin skating down towards your ass, cupping and squeezing the fat of it until you moaned into his mouth. He dropped lower, hands tucking between your legs, swiping through your wet folds. You could feel him smirk into your mouth.

"Dirty girl," He tsked, pulling his shining fingers out with a dimpled grin. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, huffing and reaching for the band of his sweatpants. You could see his growing erection already tenting the soft fabric, rolling your hand over his cock, squeezing it lightly before shoving his pants roughly to the ground.

"Shut up." You muttered with an eye roll, feeling his arrogant grin on you, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, practically touching your nose. You wanted to bury your face in his groin, smother his dick with wet kisses, that's how much you missed it.

You pumped him a few times, silken skin soft in your hands. Eddie groaned, tipping his head back and you huffed. "Be quiet, you'll wake her up." You pouted, swiping your tongue over his tip.

"Then don't do that-fuck." Eddie groaned, hands finding your hair, gripping it lightly. You swallowed him easily down your throat, hands gripping his hair thighs to steady yourself, bobbing up and down on his shaft. "Shit, bunny, that-that's so good, but I need to be inside you."

You pulled off him with a small pop, eyes lifting to his in amusement. You wiped the back of your mouth with your wrist, his hands guiding you to stand up. "Never thought I'd here you say that." You smirked.

Eddie snorted with an eye roll. He smacked your ass playfully, hard enough to have you yelp and squeal, thighs rubbing together for friction. "Just get on the bed." He muttered. "Let me scratch that itch." He grinned.

You blushed, turning and climbing onto the bed, crawling into a table top position. "What? I didn't know what to say." You laughed with a small shrug, bending your front half to sink onto the mattress.

Craning your head to look over your shoulder, Eddie smirked, eyes rolling over your body, your presented ass and glistening pussy, ready and needy for him. You wiggled your hips, ass jiggling in front of him.

"C'mon, hurry up, before she wakes up and interrupts us, again." You groaned, watching him pump his length before situating himself behind you. "Gotta be quick."

Eddie exhaled slowly out his nose, smirking and rolling his tongue over his bottom lip. "I gotcha, bunny, I know." He grinned. "I'll get ya there, just slow down." He swiped his fingered over your folds, pushing his pointer finger into your sopping hole. You shoved your face into the mattress, muffling your loud, desperate moan that tore from your chest.

Eddie moved, positioning himself behind you. "Ready?" He asked, and you nodded. Eddie pushed in slowly, cock splitting you open, the burn from the stretch of his length against your walls made you whine, simmering out with the familiar mind numbing pleasure that always left you complacent and dizzy.

Eddie groaned lowly when he bottomed out, hunching over so his bare chest was pressed to your back. "Holy fucking shit, bunny." He ground his hips against the meat of your ass. "Been too fuckin' long, baby. Way too fuckin' long."

You moaned when he pulled out, hips snapping against yours, a rhythm building and pleasure pooling deep in your belly. You knew you'd be cumming in no time, the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the fact that you hadn't had him in so long, your legs were already beginning to shake, abdomen clenching and fists grappling at the sheets.

Eddie huffed, hot breath on your bare shoulder blades, pressing sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses to your hot skin, nuzzling the scruff of his beard into you. "God, fuck, 'm not gonna last long." He warned, hand snaking between you, fingers expertly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you crying out.

"Should be a fuckin' crime to not fuck you for as long as I did, shit." Eddie hissed. "A pussy this sweet? And I've gone too long without it, haven't I?" Eddie cooed into your ear, a little taunting and mean. Your legs clenched around his hand. "You've just been a little pent up, haven't you, bunny? So needy for me, and I didn't even know, huh?"

"Fuck," You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. His hand on your clit pressed down harder, cock jabbing your g-spot so hard you were sure you'd be spilling over him in no time. "Too long, 's too long." You babbled.

Eddie felt his stomach clench, cock twitching deep inside your velvety walls. His hands gripped harder on your hips, thrusting deeper and harder, sloppy and sharp thrusts that took your breath away. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" Eddie's fingers worked faster on your clit, jaw clenching when he rocked harder into you, bed squeaking, mattress springs creaking with every harsh snap of his hips.

You whimpered, the pleasure building so closely you could feel yourself tipping closer and closer towards the edge of ecstasy. Eddie could feel you clenching, his hand still working on your puffy, sensitive clit, thrusting harder, while his other cracked down on the side of your ass, a resounding smack that left you crying out- a bit too loudly- a final thrust sending you reeling falling into the mattress with a fucked out cry.

"Thank fuck-ugh!" Eddie groaned, his own cock spilling deep inside you. He moved slow, pushing farther and farther into you until you'd collected every drop of him. His head fell forward, curly tendrils tickling your back, his hot breath ghosting over your skin.

You could feel him, warm inside of you, filled with every drop of his rather large load. Eddie rested his cheek, stubble skin pressed to the skin of your back, eyes closed and breathing in your scent, calming and grounding while he caught his breath.

You grinned, eyes fluttering at the feeling of him, his weight on top of you, still buried deep inside of you. The house filled with an odd moment of silence, the ceiling fan above you spinning was the only sound other than the labored breaths of you and Eddie. If you listened closely, you could hear the very faint sound of Delilah's sound machine, muffled to a small buzz down the hall.

Eddie moved his hand, tucking it so it cupped your cheek sweetly, tilting to bring you closer to him. He didn't say anything, slotting his lips over yours in a tender, sweet kiss, full of love and passion, like after a date night and a few glasses of wine. You smiled, his forehead against yours as you moved closer to him, content and basking in his embrace. He left you warm from the inside out, bubbly and happy, full of joy that he was yours; that this was your life together, a life you created that was far sweeter than anything you could've ever imagined- even if it started out a little unconventional.

The chirping sound of the washer singing and ringing rang through the house, signaling the the wash cycle was done. You sighed slowly, eyes meeting Eddie's through a glassy gaze. "I think I better go switch them over." You muttered, your lips brushing his, nose touching. "And you better go smoke now if you want to, before she wakes up."

Eddie sighed heavily, lips brushing against yours in a gentle peck, before he pushed himself up, groaning and the creaks and clicks of his joints and bones. "Agh," He hissed, pulling out of you slowly, his release falling in a puddle underneath you.

"Ed," You huffed, lifting your ass up farther to try and keep anymore from spilling. "Now I have to wash that too."

Eddie smirked, grabbing a wash cloth out of the bathroom and wetting it before coming back. "Sorry, baby." He muttered, wiping you slowly. You shifted, rolling over onto your back while he finished cleaning you, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity between your legs.

Eddie settled himself back between your legs, rubbing against your ass suggestively. "Think she'd stay down for another round?" He asked, scanning your naked chest.

You scoffed, pushing him back lightly by his sternum. "Please, we better not test our luck." You rolled your eyes, sitting up, legs hanging over the side of the bed.

You stood, bending down to shimmy back on your discarded sweatpants. You could feel Eddie's blistering gaze on your ass. "Besides," You smirked, biting back a smirk. "You couldn't get it up for a second round, geezer." You teased.

Eddie's jaw ticked, scoffing challengingly, arms crossing over his inked chest. You laughed, putting on your shirt with a small blush. "Alright," Eddie's tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing lightly at you. "I'll remember that, baby."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, lifting on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "'M just kidding." You giggled, batting your eyes lovingly at him.

Eddie's hands snaked down, cracking against your sweatpants clad ass before gripping your waist tightly. "You wait until tonight, bunny. We'll see how many rounds I can go." He growled threateningly, but his eyes twinkled playfully, lustfully and alluring.

You broke apart, gathering the blanket from the bed in your arms while Eddie got dressed. He caught your waist when you passed him, arms full of the blanket, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, your head tipping back and reeling under his touch.

"Love you," Eddie muttered, kissing the tip of your nose. He fumbled in his top drawer for a cigarette and his lighter, winking at you when you dreamily repeated the phrase back to him, feeling airy and gooey, like a school girl with a second period crush. He still made you feel so important, so loved and adored.

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

Note

“I think I’m ready to try for another kid now” jack pls

Warning: suggestive

You're already in bed, your back against the headboard as you watch Jack go through his nighttime routine. You nervously pick at your fingernails as Jack tells you about his day, but you're barely listening to a word he's saying. You don't know why you're nervous, you can tell your husband anything without fear of judgement, but there's no getting rid of the stomach ache you have tonight.

You catch the tail end of his sentence as you come back to reality. "-and she tried to get us to leave this week, but I told her we were planning to celebrate Brooklyn's birthday on Saturday." Jack pulls his toothbrush out of his mouth when he realizes you have zoned out.

"Everything okay?", he asks with a mouthful of toothpaste and you give him a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." Its enough to get him off of your back.

"I was thinking we could do dinner at B's favorite restaurant and take the girls to the movies? Rent out the theatre like we did last time for her friends?" You're quiet again, and Jack notices immediately, stepping away from the vanity to look at you. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, theatre, dinner, sounds good." Jack's brow furrows, but he lets it go. Maybe you're just tired, he thinks to himself.

"What movie do you think we should see?" He calls out, his voice echoing against the marble.

"I think I'm ready to try for another kid now." You blurt out, biting at your bottom lip to stop any other outbursts. You hold your breath to no response from Jack.

"I don't think I've heard of that one", he chuckles, messing with his curls in the mirror, applying some of your leave in conditioner he'd been stealing for a while.

You know its going to take a second for it to click, and you get your confirmation when you hear the clatter of the bottle in the sink. You quickly get out of bed in case the glass broke, pushing Jack out of the way. He stands there dumbfounded for a second, unable to move.

"What did you say?", he finally croaks out, choking on his own words.

"Forget it. It was silly. Forget I said anything." You dump the pieces of the glass in the trash before exiting the bathroom, Jack on your heels. "Hey, you don't get to do that. You want to have another baby? Since when?"

You let out a sigh as you climb back into bed, settling on your haunches. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it lately."

"I thought you were good with two. After everything that happened, i completely understand." You had two very difficult pregnancies and deliveries with Brooklyn and Aaliyah, and you swore up and down you were done after two kids. Jack was fine with that, only growing up with a younger brother.

"I know, but now that time has passed, I really miss having a baby around the house. The cute baby clothes and all of the firsts, the first time they say Dada, their first steps. Don't you?"

Jack sits down next to you, an uneasy look on his face. "Are you sure?" The only thing he's worried about is your safety, and seeing all of the turmoil you had to go through with your other pregnancies, he's not sure he can do it again.

"Yes, I'd go through it all again 100 more times if it meant we get to bring home a healthy baby again." You cup his face, your thumbs stroking his cheeks.

"Okay." Jack stands up, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "What are you doing?", you chuckle as Jack jumps onto the bed, his body weight falling on you as he tries to kiss you. "I know its been a minute, babe, but I only know one way to get you pregnant." He starts to shuffle his boxer shorts past his hips, but you stop him, grabbing both of his hands in yours.

"As much as I love your eagerness", Jack blushes, burying his face in your stomach, "I don't mean right now. We have plenty of time. "

He lets out a groan before pressing a kiss above your belly button and sitting up. "Fine."

He gives you a sly look before jumping back on you again, laying a soft kiss on your lips, your faces only inches apart. His hands roam your body, grazing against your most sensitive spots.

"Jack, I thought we agreed to take it slow." You can barely speak, letting out a sharp breath as he sucks on your earlobe, his hands pulling at your pajama shorts.

"I agreed to not get you pregnant tonight. You didn't say anything about practicing."

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fanfic

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copperbadge · 6 months

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[ID: four images; top two show a small plastic shelving unit that has been attached to a wall with zipties, while the bottom two show, on the left, the remains of grey water in my carpet shampooer, and right, my fitbit watch band drying atop the wax melt heater.]

Weekend cleaning continues!

I did a bunch of small things this morning. I've wanted one of those nordic "drying cupboards" forever -- you know, the cupboard over the sink that you can put plates in to dry without having it out on the counter. I can't actually do that, so I did the next best thing and bought a super cheap plastic shelf and put it to one side of the sink where I couldn't keep anything else anyway. It's been useful but it falls over about once a week, so today's first order of business was 1. find the zipties and 2. ziptie it to the wall. Worked a treat!

After using the carpet shampooer I didn't empty the tanks because I knew I'd want to do more cleaning with it, but I'm also going out of town soon and I didn't want it sitting around with water in it, getting gross, so I did the last shampooing today and then emptied it out. I went over the hall rug a second time and then the bathroom rug, and emptying the dirty water tank went fine until I went to rinse it and dumped relatively clean but still "been in the shampooer" water all over myself. Crucially, all over the fabric band on my fitbit, so I had to rinse that out and set it out to dry. Fortunately the wax warmer makes a great warm drying rack for it.

Not pictured: my toilet that I just scrubbed clean, because it's still looking a bit gross so I'm going to try cleaning it a second time at some later point. Also not pictured, the litterbox that I dumped, wiped down, and refilled with new litter, or the blinds that I dusted, because frankly there's not much to see there. Still, felt good to get it all done. No one thing took much time, but I did get through an hour long podcast by Throughline about the Public Universal Friend and 20 minutes of I Don't Even Own A Television's dissection of The Maze Runner from back before it was a movie.

And then I went to see the Remedios Varo exhibit at the Art Institute with a friend! It was AWESOME, everyone who told me to go see it was correct that it's so far up my street it's a surprise I don't live there. If you're in Chicago don't miss it, it's on the second floor of the modern wing and a small but absolutely charming and beautiful set of paintings and studies. I'm definitely going to try to get back before it closes at the end of November.

[ID: A photograph of Remedios Varo's "Simpatia" or "Sympathy" from 1955, which she stated she painted because she likes cats. There is a large, very Polk-like cat leaping onto a table and being soothed by his owner after knocking over a glass of water -- while three more cats at least hide out under the table, only their tails visible. Both the cat on the table and the owner soothing him have bright spiky orange hair that looks like flame, and strange sparkling lines are emerging from cat and owner. It's giving big Hieronymus Bosch vibes.]

#naclyoho #national clean your home month

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dramatisperscnae · 6 months

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[my muse was unexpectedly kidnapped, found a year later barely alive, injured, and bound.]

@lazaruspitreborn

Where there would be some snarky commentary there was silence and cautiousness when Red Hood found frigging Nightwing dumped inside what he could only consider a murder shack at the outskirts of Gotham. A scene so shocking he couldn't even bring any words out of his mouth or brain. No, he scanned the place a second and third time with his scan-bug (one of his latest creations) and upon not finding anything that called for extra caution, rushed to Dick. They never stopped looking for him. Never! They lost Bruce too soon, couldn't lose Dick as well! But as the days went on, hope dwindled in spite of the Babs', Tim's and Jason's efforts. And with criminal activity rising again, their time became more and more limited, only making their search even harder. "H-Hey, hey, hey! It's fine. It's me, Bluebird." Jason's voice was hushed and way softer when he stopped what he thought was an attempt on a punch. "Holy shit! You're alive... Dick! Dick, no, no, no! Do not fucking go dead on me!" Gods! Jason slided on his knees to take a better look at Dick, craddling his head and face against his own chest while he measure his pulse - weak, but still there. "I'm here. I'm here Dick. You're safe." A wave of relief washed over him, so powerful that Jason completely forgot to send word back to the Belfry for quite a few minutes while he checked Dick's wounds and ascertained himself that he didn't have anything broken.

Cold. So cold. What was left of his suit wasn't nearly enough to keep the cold out. Wrists hurt. Ankles. Everything, just one constant dull ache. Where was he? Had they moved him again? They kept moving him, never too long in one place, never more than a few days…weeks? He didn't know. Time had stopped meaning anything a while back. Impossible to tell time without clocks. Without light. Without anything to go by. He could only guess.

How long had he been gone? Weeks? Months? How long since they'd taken him? How long until they came back? They always came back. Every time he though it was over, every time he woke up on a new chair, a new floor, every time he thought he'd made it out, they always came back. What would it be this time? Gas? Injection? Or going old-school with blades and blunt instruments? Or a combination of them all?

Breath rasped in his chest, the sound of hurried footsteps making him twitch. Here it came, all over again, and he didn't have the strength to fight them off. He barely had the strength to struggle against the hands pulling him from the floor, trying to pull away until his arms were immobilized and a hushed voice spoke.

It's me, Bluebird.

He looked up to see a red mask, featureless but for white lenses, looking back at him. Talking to him. Red. Not white. They didn't use red masks. And their masks didn't look like this, not remotely. It wasn't them. It wasn't them. He sagged, what little energy that had been driving him flowing out as his eyes slid closed again.

And then he heard his name. His real name. And he was being lifted, cradled against a broad chest. Forcing his eyes open again he looked up, hazily, at the red mask - no. Red helmet - above him. A helmet he knew. Voice he knew. Assuring him. Safe. He's safe. Bluebird. "…Jason…" His voice was weak, barely a whisper, hoarse from overuse or underuse or some unholy combination of both; as dry as his mouth felt, he was surprised he could speak at all right now.

There was nothing broken - at least, not recently, though from the looks of things at least one or two fingers had been broken and forcibly reset a few times. Around his wrists and ankles his struggles against his bonds had left clear tracks in the flesh beneath that had never gotten a chance to heal, while beneath the shreds of what had once been his suit were scars - some fresh, some months old, none of them clean or pretty - scattered amongst bruises and fresh wounds while his arms bore the tell-tale marks of needles. IV, syringes, his captors had regularly introduced various things into his system, though whether to keep him alive or to torment him further - or both - was anyone's guess.

#lazaruspitreborn #dick ic #dick thread: caged bird #[he is. Not in good shape #and more than half-starved into the bargain]#cw: torture mention #[just in case >>]#dick verse: taloned knight

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wingedjellyfishflight · 11 days

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Freedom Calls Alternate Ending

As you run, the thought enters your head that maybe you should stop. Just give up and distract your former employer and coworkers as long as possible to give him a longer head start. The more you consider it, the better it sounds. Your pace slows, and you begin looking around for a smaller fork off the main path that you can take. Your footsteps stray off the main path, and it takes only a few paces before an arm grabs you from behind, lifting you up, and the man curses nearly silently in your ear. He runs along the main trail toward the road. It takes only a few more minutes to reach it, closer than you thought.

"What the fuck was that? You dumping me into a trap here?" He stops on the edge of the forest, not venturing out and drops you to the ground, not caring that you bump your head or that something tears into your leg.

"Ouch! Fuck you! I was going to run a distraction so you could get clear. Lead them off in the wrong direction." You can't see his face and you don't make an effort to, your hands reaching to your injuries and coming back wet on both. "Great, now I have that to deal with." You feel a bit faint as you stand, but force your body upright.

"I still don't trust you." He almost seems to be convincing himself of that fact.

"Good. I never wanted you to. Now, I assume you can get away from here?" He nods, and you start walking toward the road. "My job is done. Now fuck off back to your loving team and good morals." You do your best to ignore the pulsing pain in your leg, but he moves to stand in front of you, barely an inch away, blocking your way forward. Ignoring him and his crossed arms, you skirt around to keep going. A growl makes you stop in your tracks until you realize it is coming from him. When you continue to walk away, he grabs you, spinning you to face him.

"We need to talk, and you're coming with me." Trying to pull away makes his hands tighten painfully into your arms, so you just give in.

"Fine, just get us out of here, then." He picks you up again, carrying you over his shoulder with one hand on your waist. He jogs down the road to the nearest marker and continues on after reading it.

"Mile 435. Just a mile or so." He reaches it in about fifteen minutes, and you are on the edge of hurling from being jostled around when he puts you down again. The pain in your leg has increased tenfold with the jarring impact, and you immediately drop to all fours and lose control of your stomach. It feels like everything over the last week comes up. Afterward, you can barely keep from falling down into it, but that iron bar of an arm is back, standing you up. This time, he scoops you bridal style, and you bite your hand, trying not to scream as he bumps the wound on your leg. It takes him a moment to feel the wet stickiness, and he reacts by shoving you into the bed of a truck that you hadn't yet noticed.

Weak, you don't fight him yanking off your pants. Instead, you hiss at him to get you out of here. He signals the truck, and you hear the screech of the tires as it takes off. You fade in and out, feeling weaker. At one point, you can feel him searching your clothes, and another, he is yelling something that makes you laugh, though you don't know why.

When you regain consciousness, it's to the smell of a hospital. The too clean stench of antiseptic makes your stomach roil, but you manage to swallow away the urge to puke. Turning your head, you see the masked man sitting there, watching you closely, his eyes never straying from your form. He says nothing, barely moves as he keeps watch. You turn away, looking at the rest of the spartan room, surprised you aren't handcuffed to the bed.

"Evening," you say quietly, your voice a bit scratchy and your throat dry. You look back at the masked man, waiting patiently for his response.

"Evenin," he responds gruffly after a long moment. "You have anyone to miss you back home," he asks after a few more minutes. At the shake of your head, he nods slowly, seemingly making a decision. "Good, you can't go back anyway. You have a bounty on you."

You sigh quietly. "It was worth it," you say with a shrug, not looking at him. "Even if they get to me, it was worth it because you'll do more good than I could ever hope to do..." You close your eyes, ashamed and disappointed that your life turned out to be so lackluster and you feel like this one act, a single hour out of your entire life, might be the only thing you could be proud of out of the twenty-some years you have lived.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "Thank you... and I'm sorry for hurting you," he says softly. When you open your eyes, you feel a shudder run through you. He is looking down at you with an unreadable expression, his eyes brightly shining from his mask. "So, you have no one waiting for you. You are in danger the moment you leave this base. And you have no resources to support yourself. Am I correct?" His voice is soft, but menacing in a way as he lays out how helpless you are now. How drastically your impulsive decision has altered and effectively ended your life.

"Correct," you whisper, trying not to cry as you realize that you are essentially a walking dead man, simply waiting for the bounty to be carried out with no way out in a foreign country with no ID or way to survive.

"Then... I have a proposition," he says, tracing a gloved hand across your cheek, down your throat, and skimming across your breast to your hip, suddenly looming over you. "I will keep you safe, housed, fed, and... happy. You will be my perfect little housewife and all that such a position would entail," he says, his other hand wrapping around your wrist and bringing your hand to the bulge in his pants. "Agreed?"

You swallow nervously, looking up at him and the way his body fills your vision for a long moment. You consider his words and that you clearly don't have another choice if you want to last more than a week before nodding. "A- Agreed," you say shakily.

"Good girl," he purrs, reaching down to unbutton his fly. "Show me how devoted you can be, luv."

#call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months

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“Let You Off With A Warning” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader (eventually)

Tags: Fluff and Flirting

Word Count: 1900

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Food as Bonding" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: ABC/Michael Moriatis)

Corey’s eyes are ready to roll right out of his eye sockets. He slumps over the counter, office phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Absolutely.” He enunciates every syllable. “Yes. I can see how that would be quite an intrusion.” Those stubby fingers snap to get your attention.

You’re finishing up your checklist after vehicle patrol. When did fireworks become an every night of the week event for days prior to the Fourth? The annoyance can become dangerous in Black Sandy State Park. Especially when bored kids and drunk adults get it in their heads to light things on fire on campgrounds during drought conditions. You’re figuring that’s what the call’s about. Things had been relatively quiet so far that night.

You had hoped they were going to stay that way. All you wanted to do was clock out in the next five minutes, get home, and catch up on “The Bachelor” episodes filling up space on your DVR.

“We’ll have someone head over and take care of it.” Corey smiles at you.

You groan back at your Park Manager. You’re the only other someone.

You head to the campsite that phoned the office first. It’s a husband and wife with a large brood. They’ve got every creature comfort under the sun - or in this case, moonlight - in their parcel paradise by Hauser Lake. The Class A motorhome makes you wonder what kind of house they left behind.

The wife is the one running her mouth at you even though the husband had called to lodge the complaint. You try to wrap your head around the noise she’s harping about and how it’s possibly bothering the four kids. All of the children are laser-focused on handheld devices. They don’t even look up when mom asks them to corroborate how annoying the sound from their neighbor is.

If you had your way, you’d block all WiFi access in every part of Black Sandy.

After the requisite pleasantries, you turn and trudge through the shadows to the lodger who’ll be getting a talking to. Though not the talk Mrs. Devonshire is expecting.

You adjust the cap on your head. The voice emerging from one solitary speaker is muffled and mono on your approach. The silver Airstream is curvy and sleek. A standout that manages to sparkle even in the dark.

Its owner sits in a lawn chair. He’s watching some old time western projected onto a white sheet tautly stretched between two poles.

His eyes have cottoned on to your movement seconds ago, you're sure of it. His day job requires him to be hyper aware of his surroundings at all times.

“To what do I owe the honor of a house call this late, Ranger? Raccoon invasion? Dump station on the fritz?” He stands to greet you. An open beer dangles from his fingertips.

“Nothing that exciting, Sheriff.” The Bachelor’s got nothing on this specimen. The handful of times you’ve crossed paths, you are never quite prepared to be in this man’s presence.

“I’m not on duty. Call me Beau, remember?” He grins to confirm the allowance of such informality.

You sigh. “Afraid I am on duty. And have to request a favor.”

He nods and tilts his head over to the Devonshires. “Let me guess? I’ve done something to upset Linda.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“I had her figured out as soon as she waltzed over to introduce herself bright and early this morning before I left for work.” His lids widen in emphasis. “Ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Is she about to release the kraken?”

You chuckle. “Just turn down the volume on your movie a smidge, please.” You pinch two fingers together. “We’ve never had a complaint about you before, so no worries. We’ll let you off with a verbal warning this time.” You grin.

He’s amused at that. “Mighty kind of ya. Well, let me do it right in front of you, so you can put it down in your incident report.” He strolls over to the speaker and dials down the knob. “Perpetrator immediately complied with the request.” He announces, a little on the loud side. “In case Linda’s watching.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know you’re the Sheriff of Lewis and Clark County?”

He shakes his head. “How would she? I don’t think I got five words in this morning.” He lifts the lid of a green cooler with the toe of his cowboy boot, bends down and pulls out another beer bottle. He has a bounce in his step on his way back to you. “But, you know, I don’t reckon it would’ve even mattered. She still would’ve had Larry make the call.”

“How’d you know Larry called?”

He shrugs and offers you the beer. “Lucky guess.”

You wave a hand. “On duty, remember?”

A tip of his wrist has him checking his watch. “You getting paid time and a half? It’s almost nine.”

You smile at how well he catalogs information and smooth talks with all that easy Texas charm. By your second run-in with him he’d found out your work schedule and how important it was for you to stick to it. He even had you fess up, somehow, to your penchant for reality TV, especially shows of the love competition variety. You grab the beer and twist off the top. The beer tingles down your throat in a welcome swallow. “It’s all your fault I’m still here.”

“Well, then, let me make it up to you. Sit a spell.” Before you can register, he’s snapped open another lawn chair near his own. He presents it with a flourish.

“I guess I should hang around for a bit. Make sure you don’t get yourself in more trouble.” The chair settles into the dirt under your weight.

“Not the first time it’s been suggested I need a chaperone.” He sits alongside you.

You nod at the movie. “What’re you watching?”

He stares at you, disheartened. “Really?”

“I don’t do westerns.”

“Pale Rider. Clint Eastwood. It’s a classic.” His head shakes. “Kids today.”

You scoff. “Kid?”

“You can’t be more than 25,” he states with complete earnestness.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Beau. I already said you’d get off on a warning.”

“How about some bribery then, just to ensure nothing ends up on my permanent record.” He nudges a bowl on the tiny circular table in your direction.

It’s hard to make out the contents. You squint. Light from the projector brightens up the scene for a moment. “Oh, you found them.” You pull out a cherry and tug at the fruity flesh between your teeth to release the stem.

“I did. Saw ‘em at a farmer’s market in town. You were right. Flathead cherries are amazing.”

“Hm.” You concur and indulge in the sweetness. “So good.”

Beau snickers. “You two need some alone time?”

“So good,” you repeat. “First pick of the season reminds you of what you’ve been missing all year.”

He nods and grabs a couple for himself. “That’s what the guy at the stand was spoutin’.”

Beau Arlen has only been the sheriff for a few weeks. But you agree with the assessment that most have of him. He’s an affable and acceptable substitute while Walter Tubb recuperates. Arlen’s smart and ingratiates himself easily with everyone in the county. He knows those that keep things running in Helena by their first names already. And as you are someone that secures and protects a part of state land in the county under his jurisdiction– well, you get to share a beer and some cherries with him tonight.

The conversation is light and dances about with no rhyme or reason.

“What’s your favorite meal to eat back home?” He asks with great interest. With an angling of his head upward, he shoots a cherry pit out of his mouth like a mini cannonball into the shadows. You think he’s intentionally aiming in the direction of the Devonshires. “Like, the kind that needs your undivided attention?”

“Easy. Grilled salmon and roasted asparagus with mashed potatoes.”

Beau takes a swig. “Found anything comparable here?”

“Not yet. Doubtful it’ll be anything close to what I could get back home in Oregon.” You course correct and try not to be too hard on the place you’ve called home for the past two years. “But, you can fish a decent dinner out on the lake.” You thumb at the water behind the trailer. “The trout and perch are tasty.”

“I haven’t gotten around to fishing in Hauser yet.” He sighs.

“Seems like every time I turn on the local news, something major is going on in the area. Most of it ain’t good.”

“Tell me about it. I thought this would be a slow drip favor of a job for a friend. I was saying to Hoyt today that a dam holding back all the crime must’ve burst as soon as I got here.”

You make a note to give Jenny Hoyt a call. You haven’t hung out with her or Cassie in a bit. It’s time to catch up and get all the details you can about the new sheriff in town. “Well, what crime has Helena committed when it comes to your favorite meal back home?”

“Oh.” Beau’s lips flap as he releases air from his lungs. “Haven’t found a good T-bone yet. Tried grilling a couple myself but I don’t know, just not the same. What I wouldn’t do for a melt in your mouth steak with some buttered corn on the cob and a baked potato topped with sour cream and chives.” He licks his lips with a far away stare.

You grin at how fond his expression is over the memory. You kind of wish he’d stare at you like that for even a second.

Some soft pops ricochet in the night air. You both sit up at the sound.

“Fireworks.” Beau states. You nod and then wait to see if anything can be seen in the distance lighting up the sky. It quiets again after some seconds. “You better get home before you can never leave,” Beau decides. You open your mouth to protest. He only shakes his head and cuts you off. “Hey, if Corey’s got something to say about it, just tell him the sheriff can pinch hit if he needs backup.”

You smile. “Not sure if that’ll fly coming from me.”

“Then you tell him to call me if he needs confirmation.” He nods and this time the smile he gives you is fond and, dare you think it, a bit flirty. “Besides, you’ve got a bachelor waiting for you at home, doncha?”

The laugh bubbles out of you. “I doubt he’ll be any better company.” You purse your lips at the confession that gave more of your thoughts away than intended.

He stills at the compliment and takes it in for a long beat. The smile that curls up is soft and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You rise and leave the half drunk beer on the table.

Beau rises as well, always the gentleman.

“Have a good night.” You hurry out the words to match your steps.

You don’t dare turn to look back at the sheriff. You can’t stop grinning like a giddy school girl.

His voice, low and warm in the summer night, draws out, “You have a good night as well.” He adds, “Ranger.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

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jsprnt · 7 months

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Healing Hearts PT.6 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: the moment we’ve all been waiting for! this is a long one, enjoy :)

C/W: mention of abusive relationship, blood.

WC: 5.012

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

"The swelling has been going down thankfully. You're very lucky it's a minor injury. I've discussed your injury with both Dr. Woods and Dr. Davis, and we think you'll be back in a few weeks, though we'll have to keep monitoring it regularly. Especially since you're being included in the national team lineup." I say, filling in some important documents about Ibo's injury.

"Thank you doctor. I really hope I will be fine for the national matches." He says, French accent shining through. I give him a crooked smile, turning my full attention towards him.

"You know I can't promise you anything except that I'll help you to my upmost ability, as your physiotherapist." I state. He nods his head, acknowledging what I tell him. I give him some more instructions about how to make sure his injury doesn't get worse. He walks out of my office a while later, feeling more confident in healing faster.

I glance at my planner, checking off the appointments I had completed. Realizing I had a fifteen-minute break. I grab my phone out of my handbag, checking my messages.

I had sent my friends a couple of cute pictures I took last night, asking which one to post.

I had done my make up and dressed up out of boredom. Wanting to go back to posting on my Instagram regularly, keeping my friends and family up to date since I now lived in a different city again.

I add some other pictures to it, making it photo dump and adding a caption. I press post, scrolling through my timeline before checking the time. Next appointment: meeting with physiotherapy team.

I shove my phone in my back pocket, grabbing some documents we need before walking along the hallways to the gym, Dr. Davis would definitely be there.

I feel my stomach grumble, lunchtime was soon and I couldn't wait to eat honestly.

I walk in greeting some players who are working out hard. The faint smell of sweat and deodorant hits my nose. I scrunch my nose, trying to focus on my own perfume. I could never get used to the smell of men exercising, no matter how long I worked in this industry.

Suddenly, a ball rolls up to my feet. I turn my head to the right seeing Trent and Dom. My left hand fidgeting with the documents in my arm.

"You guys are playing two touch in the gym?"

I raise my brows at them, taking the ball and rolling it under my foot. "That's what I said. This is gym time!" I glance at a slightly frustrated Mo, chuckling at him before turning back to the other guys. "You guys sound like my parents when I was younger. Stop being an arse and kick the ball back!" Trent yells in his Scouser accent.

I gasp at him, grabbing my chest offended. "Hey, I'm only twenty-five, he's the old one!" I point to Mo as he gives me a surprised look. The other players in the gym looking up due to the slight commotion. "I am not old- I'm thirty-one!" He exclaims. I try hold back a laugh, glancing at the other players who have slight grins on their face, overhearing our banter.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, turning my head to see a slightly sweaty Virgil. A sweaty but powdery-musk smell enters my nostrils. His curly baby hairs sticking to his forehead, his signature waves slightly frizzy. He leans forward, his face close to mine.

"If he's old what am I then?" My eyes widen, feeling his minty breath fanning my face. I stare up at him for a second before I hear my name being called by Dr. Davis, who's looking at us from the entrance of the gym. "Well- I've got a meeting, you'll have to ask Trent!" I give him a sheepish smile, scooping up the ball with my foot and kicking it back to Dominik, surprising myself at the fact that I hadn't lost the football skills I had learnt in primary school.

"Train hard everyone! I'll be there James!" I yell before jogging away hearing some chuckles behind me as leave the gym.

"Since we're done discussing everything, y/n how has it been working here so far." I look up from the stack of documents, smiling at the two senior physio's.

"It's been two weeks but it feels way longer honestly, in a good way of course. Staff and player are nice and the workplace is very positive." I state. They look at me with bright smiles, looking very relieved. We chat some more before Dr. Woods dismisses me for lunch.

I bid them goodbye and walk back to my office. Putting away the documents and walking into the canteen. I fill my plate with some tasty food, remembering not eat too much since Virgil was inviting me over for dinner later.

I sit next to Clara, chatting, well more like gossiping about literally everyone.

"She cheated on him?!" I yell a little out of shock as she tells me the latest celebrity dating drama.

I take a sip of my water, swallowing before asking her more about it. Some players asking if they can sit our table. I absentmindedly nod at them, not paying attention as I'm too invested in Clara's story.

"Who cheated?" I hear a confused Curtis say. We glance at him briefly realizing multiple players at had been sitting at our table. You'd think they'd be invested in their own banter, but they quite literally had been eavesdropping our conversation.

"Why's everyone looking at us?"

I murmur to Clara, embarrassed smile on my face.

"Because you are very loud." I look at Robbo, mumbling a quick sorry before Clara and me turn back to our own conversation again, this time with way less volume.

I shove the last bites of veggies in my mouth listening to the details of her juicy story.

"Show me a picture of the guy." I say, very curious. She taps on her phone handing me it. I look at the phone screen, my mouth falling open. "She cheated on him with this?" I exclaim, totally baffled. My hand covering my mouth in disbelief.

I feel a presence behind me, turning to see Curtis look at the screen. I quirk my eyebrow at him.

"What? You girls are so loud I want to know the gossip show me!" I roll my eyes at him playfully before I show him the picture.

"Oh- was she blind or?" I laugh at his comment before I hear the guys at the table complain about wanting to see the pictures too.

I sigh before showing them the phone, hearing a couple words of disbelief. "Maybe he has a nice personality?" I hear Harvey say.

This becomes the only topic of our conversation at our table, dragging on for the next fifteen minutes. And they say women gossip more than men.

"No, it's crazier since her partner- well ex is hot."

I hear Clara say. I nod at her comment. "She's not wrong."

My eyes wander around the table as the guys seem to be more invested into the drama than us now. I chuckle at their banter, my lips curling up into a smile, dimples on display. My eyes lock with Virgil's who's sitting at the end of the table. He smiles back, and a warm feeling seeps into my chest, a faint blush covering my cheeks.

A knock on my door takes me out of my concentrated trance. I watch as the door swing open, revealing Virgil. I check the time, training must've ended early?

"What's up?" I raise a brow, fidgeting with my pen before standing up from my seat. He smirks at me and walks around to sit on the treatment table, looking very comfortable. "Something wrong?"

I walk up to him, almost standing in between his thighs due to his frame. "Nothing wrong." He says. I notice a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes.

"Why are you here then hm?" I fold my arms up to my chest, lifting my head slightly to look him in the eyes. He laughs at me before mirroring my stance. "I came here to confirm tonight, you'll be at my place at 7 right?"

"Yeah, you thought I forgot? In one day?"

He huffs, before shaking his head. "No, just confirming." He smirks, and I can’t help but wonder why he's being, so- weird?

"And I was wondering- do you have any allergies?" I raise my brows. "Why are you cooking? I instead of a fancy private chef?" I scoff, a hint of teasing in my tone.

His expression turns offended, scoffing back. "Yes, I will be cooking, you don't think I'm capable of making a nice dinner?" He retorts.

I raise my hands in defense, holding back a laugh. "Okay Mister Chef, don't get too riled up. I'll look forward to it." I study his face for a reaction, the corners of my lips tugging upwards.

"I'll show you, just be on time." He says, giving me a cocky smile. I feel my heart pound faster in my chest, that smile was to literally go feral for, I had to admit. "I'll be there just send me the address."

I put on my halter-neck dress, struggling to reach the back as I check the time. Fuck, twenty minutes until I have to leave. I fight against the flexibility of my arms some more before huffing and giving up, thanking myself for befriending my neighbor.

I walk out of my apartment, going up to Sofia's door and knocking on it. The door opens and I greet her before turning around, giving her the message. She chuckles before reaching down to zip up my dress. I turn back facing her again and give her a hug as a ‘thank you’. She whistles at me, her arms folded. "Damn girl, which lucky guy is seeing all of this tonight." I laugh at her, trying to convince her it's nothing like that, though see doesn't seem very convinced. "I doubt that, but let me know how it goes?" I nod at her before leaving back to my apartment. "Don't drink too much!" She yells after me. "I won't!"

I stand in front of my mirror, hands smoothing down my dress before I pack my handbag. I grab my lip liner, meticulously lining my lips and applying a pretty gloss on top. I breathe in and exhale slowly, my hands clammy for some crazy reason. Am I nervous? I shake my head at my distress, not believing I was nervous for something so simple. It's just dinner.

My phone buzzes on my coffee table, I grab it walking out of my apartment after being fully ready. My Notification Center being flooded by my Instagram post being liked, I smile at myself before checking the most important message. Virgil had sent his address finally.

After a half hour drive of me fighting with the directions and the navigation system, I finally arrive at his home, a nice big gate around it. Though, his house wasn't anything I expected, it was defined huge but not modern like I thought his house would be.

I reach for my phone, ready to call him but I'm stopped by the gates opening. I sigh before driving up onto his huge driveway, catching a glimpse of the other cars he owned. I hadn't seen them before at the training center.

I gather my bag, jumping out of my car and fixing my dress, walking around to his front door. The door opens, a nicely dressed Virgil smiles back at me.

Oh fuck, he looks insanely good. He's wearing a off-white polo shirt, the sleeves a little snug on his biceps, paired nicely with some black pants. His hair in his signature hairstyles and it looks like he had cleaned up his facial hair a bit.

"Hey!" I greet, stepping into his home. I glance around, noticing the touches of marble and wood decorate his home. "You look beautiful." He hums, leaning down and pulling me into a warm hug, a hand softly running down my arm. I try to stop my brain from short-circuiting, focusing instead of allowing my mind to wander.

"I really thought you weren't coming after I said I'd be cooking." His voice vibrates in my ear. The musky smell of his cologne engulfing my senses.

I pull back. "Do you think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to taste your cooking? I need to know if the 'worlds best defender' can cook a nice meal as well, no? Besides, you hurt my nose. I need some compensation for that!" He laughs at me, before leading me further into his home, keeping a hand on my back, in between my shoulder blades.

He guides me into the main room. I glance around noticing the kitchen, living room and dinning room are all on one floor, connected.

"Your house is so pretty." I breathe out, glancing at him. "Did you have it designed?" He hums, nodding. "I did but I worked with them to make it my own." He says.

He leads me to the dining table, it wasn't a huge one, the dark walnut wood giving it a cozy touch. A pretty chandelier dangling from the ceiling, casting a warm light into the room.

The table is filled with plates, wine glasses and cutlery. Most importantly the decent amount of food. He pulls back my chair to allow me to sit. I turn back to look at him. Maybe, chivalry wasn't dead. He walks around the table to sit down across from me.

I gasp, my eyes widening. "So, you made all of this?" I motion to the table with my hands, making a circle motion with my fingers.

"Of course I did, did you think I was bluffing?"

I eye him up suspiciously, raising a brow. "Well- no, but not this." I say. "You shouldn't have, training was very intensive today and you must be tired." My expression falters into a concerned one. He really did all of this, for me?

"No, it's okay. I wanted to really show you how sorry I was. Besides, I like doing things for the ones I care about." I freeze at his words, staring at him with wide eyes, he cares?

He clears his throat, before asking I want a glass of water. I nod, as he starts pouring water into a glass and handing it to me. I reach over, grabbing it and lifting the cold glass it up to my lips. My pink lip gloss leaving a stain on the edge of the glass.

"So, chef are you going to explain what you've cooked tonight?" I say, a smile tugging on my lips.

"Of course, just a second." He stands up, walking over to the glass sliding-doors leading to the backyard. He slides them open and a nice breeze blows in to the house immediately. He walks outside into the backyard, I tilt my head curiously.

Then he appears again, a big plate in his hand and a smoky smell reaching my nostrils. Steak- he'd grilled steak on his barbecue?

I follow his every move with my eyes, he walks up to me placing a piece of steak on my and his plate. He walks back to me, grabbing the plate from in front of me and cutting it. My heart practically melt at the action, my face flushing.

"Smells amazing, thank you." I say, looking up at him. My eyes following the movements of his hands. He places the plate with cut steak in front of me again, giving me a smile. "My pleasure." He says, his voice silky as ever.

He sits down again, motioning for me to start eating. "I'm not a course-meal person myself, so I just put out everything at once. I hope you're okay with that?" He makes eyes contact with me, a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh- it's fine I promise. I'm not a fan of that either." I say, shaking my head slightly. He looks at me pleased, before starting to explain every dish he had prepped.

We dig in before the food gets cold. I taste the steak, humming at the taste. It melting on my tongue. "This is insanely good. How'd you learn to cook like this? Your mom?"

He nods, a reminiscing look on his face. "That and I worked at a restaurant when I was younger. Washed the dishes, but could overhear the chefs talking about how to prepare the food all the time."

"I guess, I could actually call you chef?" He chuckles at me before suggesting I taste the spaghetti, coated in a creamy tomato sauce.

"This is really good, oh my god." I gasp at the taste, this had to be the best spaghetti I have ever eaten and I have probably eaten spaghetti in every country I had visited.

He grabs the decanter filled with red wine, I imagine him meticulously decanting it and smile to myself. "Wait- I'm driving home remember? I can't drink." I say. "You can drink it's fine. I'll drive you home, you can relax. You're my guest."

I smile at his words, watching him move carefully. I could definitely get used to being wined and dined like this again.

I notice the almost empty bottle next to it. He walks over to me to fill my wineglass. I eye the familiar label, trying to figure out where I had had it before. I didn't know much about wine, but this one was etched into my memory for some reason. He notices my confusion and gives me information about it. I think carefully as he speaks, finally remembering where I had had it before. I mentally slap myself for remembering the shitty memory.

I had it on a date with Theo at a three star Michelin restaurant. He had asked the waiter for their 'very good red wine' in the rudest way possible, embarrassing me in the process. Then he'd bragged about the bottle being worth seven grand the entire dinner. A chill travels down my spine, remembering how he'd lashed out at me later for 'ogling the waiter' in his twisted words.

Wait-? This bottle is worth seven thousand and I'm being served it on a simple dinner? I snap out of my thoughts before looking at the glass of wine in front of me. Looking back at Virgil, trying to not look as shocked as I am right now.

"Something wrong? You don't like it-" I interrupt him. "No, I just remembered we're I've had this wine before, that's it."

He raises a brow. "Where have you had it?" I give him an awkward smile, before dismissing it. "Not the best memory, but this will probably make me forget it." I chuckle at him.

We continue to eat in a comfortable silence for a while before he breaks it. "I know you've told us about yourself, but tell me more. I want to learn more about you." He says, small smile on his face.

"What do you want to know?" I say. "Tell me more about your upbringing, how you grew up."

I take a sip of the wine, it's taste coating my mouth. I explain my childhood to him, as he occasionally chimes in to tell a story he relates to. I smile at myself, feeling very comfortable.

"To be fully honest, I don't have the best relationship with my parents. Mainly, because growing up they'd always been more busy with their business, so they were physically and emotionally pretty absent. Though, I don't know if I could complain- I mean their determination for work made it possible for me to grow up comfortably. Even though it meant I had to raise myself sometimes."

He nods, acknowledging my feelings telling me about his relationship with his father and how it had shaped him as a person. "I guess, we aren't so different after all hm?"

We finish dinner and I can't help but glance into his backyard, noticing my curiosity, he offers to take a walk in his backyard. I nod eagerly as we walk along the neatly designed pool tiles. "Do you swim a lot when it's sunny?" I ask him. "I do, but I love swimming when it's colder. The jacuzzi is the best when it's cold." I roll my eyes at him playfully. "Must be nice." I mock as he laughs at me.

The sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. I shiver as a cold breeze blows past me, making my teeth clatter slightly. Virgil notices as he interrupts himself, looking at me concerned. "Are you cold?” A shy smile forms on my lips, nodding at him. He walks back into his house, quickly walking back out with a white sweater in his arms.

He walks up to me, carefully pulling the sweater over my head. I imagine to not smudge my make up. I shiver at the touch of his hands on my arms, holding back a surprised gasp. His hand goes up to fix my hair, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Thank you." He smirks at me, an unknown look in his eyes as he glances down at me.

"Do you want to go back inside?" I nod at Virgil, walking back into his house alongside him. He tells me sit at the kitchen island as he cleans up the table, forcing me stop helping him with cleaning. "I said you're my guest, please go sit down and have some more wine."

This leads to me sipping on the seven thousand pound wine like it's orange juice, sitting onto the bar stool and leaning against the marble island, my elbows propped up on it. I watch him rinse off the dishes and cutlery before placing them into the dishwasher. I don't know if it's the wine or not but looking at his back, cleaning the kitchen with gloves on made him look so- husband material, it feels almost too domestic. Though, it definitely made him look so hot, that was for sure the effect of the wine. Sober me would never, right?

I let out a soft giggle, my face was probably insanely flushed. He turns back to look at me, chuckling to himself as he washed his hands. Walking up to me and holding onto my shoulders to stabilize me. He looks at me before looking at the nearly empty decanter.

"Are you drunk?" I look up at him, a sheepish smile on my face. "Not yet." I laugh and his chocolate brown eyes gaze into mine. I unconsciously hold my breath, he looked insanely pretty from this proximity. I try get off of the bar stool as he tries to hold me back stabilizing me again, fixing the white sweater. I huff at him. "I'm not drunk, I swear." I whine, hearing a deep chuckle leave his throat. His big hand engulfs mine as he holds onto to it, my soft skin grazing against his slightly calloused palms. He places a cold glass of water in my hand.

He starts gathering the wineglass and nearly empty decanter in front of me and puts them away. I press my lips onto the edge of the glass, sipping onto the water as I follow his movement from behind it. A sudden familiar tune makes me jerk my head around, looking for the origin of the sound. I catch the glowing screen of my phone, left at the dinner table. I get off the bar stool, half-full glass still in my hand as I make my way towards it.

I pick it up, taking notice of the anonymous number calling me. I glance up at Virgil, seeing that he's still busy with cleaning up and look back at my phone again. Who would be calling my phone at eight thirty in the evening? My finger hovers over the green circle, eventually pressing it quickly, lifting the phone up to my ear, my left hand fidgeting with the glass.

"Hello?" I mutter, holding my breath awaiting an answer back. I catch Virgil turning around, eyeing me confused, but his face relaxes when he realizes I'm on the phone.

I furrow my eyebrows, my face twisting into confusion as no one speaks back, the only sound being of someone's breathing in my ear. I start pulling the phone away from my ear, but I freeze at the sound of someone's voice breaking the silence.

"Now you're picking up the phone? you fucking bitch!" The person shouts, a sinister tone lacing his voice. Theo.

I gasp, jolting at the voice. My hand jerks, letting the glass of water slip through my hands. The loud sound of the glass splitting into millions of pieces deafening my ears. Water splashes up, pieces of glass cut through my skin, a painful stinging feeling on my face. My eyes widen in shock, disassociating for a second before I'm pulled out of it by Virgil's hands on my waist, gently carrying me away from the glass.

I blink multiple times, trying to focus at what just happened. My hand falls to my side, the screen being seen by Virgil as he takes it out of my hand, hanging up on the caller.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" He mutters, looking very worried. He grips onto my shoulders, shaking me slightly. I avert my eyes to him, eyes still wide in shock.

Tears cloud my vision, gathering at the corner of my eyes before rolling down my cheeks. I feel his thumb caressing them away, his other hand traveling to my nape and pulling me into his chest. I shake in his hold, his arm wrapping around my shoulder as he caresses my hair.

I feel his shirt become wet as my tears fall.

"It's okay, you're safe." He mutters into my ear softly, his frame enveloping me tightly. My breath hitches, pulling away from him and noticing the blood- and some make up stains on his shirt.

"Blood and the glass- I'm so sorry-" he shushes me, wiping away the tears falling down. "It's fine. You're the one bleeding, again." I look up at him with glossy eyes, he was right. I kept getting myself in these bloody embarrassing situations, with him.

He glances down my body, noticing some cuts on my legs as well. His arm travels down to the back of my knees, stabilizing his hold on my back before carrying me bridal style onto his big sofa.

He puts me down in the corner of the sofa gently, the soft fabric pressing comfortably against my skin. He walks away and comes back with a first-aid kit, treating the small cuts carefully.

"Who was that calling you hm?" His gaze pierces into my eyes. I avert his gaze, focusing on him treating my cuts instead. "Do you know the caller?" He presses on, treating the last cut on my face, a silent curse ringing through my mind.

"y/n- tell me." His fingers pinch my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. I let out a silent huff before pulling my legs up to my chest, he grabs the blanket on the edge of the couch, draping it over my naked legs.

I open my mouth to speak, my eyes wandering around the house, fidgeting with the blanket. Was I really about to trauma dump on my patient?

"I- it's personal I can't-" he interrupts a stern look on his face. "y/n." I sigh, a lump forming in my throat, I try swallowing it down.

"My ex- it was my ex boyfriend." I breathe out, scanning his face for a change of expressions. He furrows his brows, looking at me skeptically.

"There's more to it. Am I right?" He says softly, caressing the palm of my hand.

I swallow again, trying to croak out the words I had been keeping to myself this entire time. "Tell me." He encourages.

"We dated for five years, met him when working for Ajax, moved with me to Barcelona later. His mother is a big sponsor in the football industry. I broke up with him after he started becoming- more and more- umh abusive and controlling. That's why I got a job at this club and moved here." My voice cracks towards the end of my sentence.

A soft hum leaves his lips, a tender look in his eyes. "I'm sorry." "It's not your fault obviously, I just got shocked by hearing his voice. I'm sorry for the glass and your shirt-." I narrow my eyes at the mess next to the dining table, fragments of glass and water everywhere.

"It's okay. It's fine, as long as you're fine." He mumbles and I almost don't catch the end of his sentence.

"Do you want to watch a movie? To take your mind off it hm?" His voice a little deeper as he looks at me waiting for answer. I nod, too exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions I experienced in a short amount of time to reply with words.

He turns on the TV, across us, mounted on the huge wall. The bright light emitting from it making me cringe and squint my eyes. I shift from my position, sinking back into the sofa. He chooses a movie I had never heard of, the soft blaring of the actors calming me down as Virgil sits back as well, our bodies closer now.

A warm, comfortable feeling seeps into my chest, my eyes fluttering shut. My last conscious memory being, my forehead touching something broad and warm, a hand caressing my hair softly.

#virgil van dijk #virgilvandijk #liverpoolfc #van dijk #virgil van dijk fanfiction #virgilvandijkimagines #football #liverpool fanfic #football fanfic #liverpoolimagines #football imagines #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil x reader

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polyhexian · 1 year

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Actually fuck it it's 1am and I'm ready to- well, not trauma dump, but I'm gonna be mad about shit that's not polite to talk about in public or whatever. Hi everyone welcome to my transformers shit post blog

Anyway. So most people are not aware I have siblings because I never talk about them and that's because I haven't willingly spoken to my sister in seven years because she's an abusive narcissist and out of her fucking mind violent. But that's not important I bitch about her lying about having fuckin lupus despite the fact it's already killed enough of our family as it is. My brother I talk about even less and you know why??? There's literally no way to talk about him with modern social politics without pissing someone off. My brother is six years younger than me, low functioning down's syndrome/autistic. He's 23 now, nonverbal. I changed diapers until I moved out of my parents house at 17. 24/7 supervision, radio ankle monitor for safety, blablabla. He's visibly disabled. You look at him and immediately know he's disabled so like. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of places I've been kicked out of with him

Every time I see people get into fucking identity politics about like "low/high functioning" hurting their feelings it makes my lip curl, and I know I'm irrationally mad about it but like. What else am I supposed to be? Chill? Did you know "disability" is only for people who weren't born disabled? You only get disability if you're able to work and lose that ability. If you were born disabled? Go fuck yourself. There's programs and whatever but they all fucking suck donkey shit. My family didn't get a cent from the government to help take care of a severely disabled child until he was fucking nine. My brother is deaf AND blind. Like. Come on.

And finally when we did it's still like. Fucking nothing. At one point it was like... I dunno, 600 a month plus some shit like boxes of useless bargain bin diapers? Most importantly we got a certain amount of hours from like a medical care facility. Like, special babysitters, essentially. Fifteen hours a week maybe. Like great thanks that's super helpful. I was scrubbing shit off the walls when I was twelve. Thanks for the fucking help. My brother is difficult and strong and can be occasionally violent when he doesn't get his way. We went through every goddamn care worker in town. I remember at 15, after my dad left, my mom was like. Too depressed to do shit and so it fell to me, terminally adultified child. And because my brother is so difficult the hourly pay for working with him was higher than other clients, so their workers were always super interested in working with him. But I'd answer the door and I'm a tired angry fifteen year old and I know they're going to know the second they look at him why he pays so well and that it's still not worth it to them. So I used to open the door and say hi, my parents aren't coming to meet you, I'm in charge and I know how to forge my mom's signature. I'm tired and I don't want to waste my time with a bullshit interview. Come in, meet him, and if you decide this isn't going to work within like five minutes, that's great, fine, I get it, whatever. I'll sign off on your sheet that you were here for the full hour, so you can just go home and get paid for coming and I don't have to play grown up pretend bullshit for an hour of my time. My mom HATED that I did this but like nine times out of ten they left after fifteen minutes. They weren't worth my fucking time.

Eventually we did legitimately. Straight up run out of people willing to work with him. The company didn't send us anyone new because there wasn't anyone and because we didn't use the fifteen hours a week we got for two weeks in a row the government cancelled his entire benefit system and put him back on the waiting list. The one he was on for nine years, remember? We had to sue them over it to try and keep from losing the little they gave us and the company was so fucking butthurt about it that they called cps on us. Childish bullshit.

I've been kicked out of restaurants and movie theatres and stores and fuckin. Roller rinks or arcades or whatever kinds of places exist because he's disabled and scary and a lot of work and loud and messy and people don't want him around. It makes me bitter and angry and venomous. You wouldn't even recognize me around him. I know I can be a bitch on the internet sometimes but irl I'm soft and timid a lot of the time. I don't like talking to strangers. But you drop me in a room with my brother and I turn into a snarling fucking animal and the second I sense disgust I'm going to make a fucking scene. I've yelled at people in restaurants. What the fuck are you staring at?? I'm so sorry, is my brother enjoying his meal disturbing you? Good thing I don't give a shit. I'll embarrass myself and everyone else in the room without giving a single shit. One time I literally stormed on stage during a high schools talent show for disabled students to scream at a teacher backstage. No subtlety. No politeness. I stood up and I climbed up on the stage and stormed through the curtain. I can't fucking control myself. The anger has built up over the decades and it spills out. How fucking dare you.

And what am I supposed to do with that? That's not inspirational. It's not polite. It's not a nice story. It's "I love my brother but he's incredibly difficult and the government and society as a whole has gone so far out of their way to make keeping him safe and happy extraordinarily difficult that I'm always ready to get in a fight over it with anyone who gives me an excuse." People don't like stories like that. I don't want custody of him when my parents die and every single qualified care facility and group home in the state has refused him because he's categorized as "dangerous" because he can be physically difficult. So he just gets completely abandoned by the world who says wow that sucks but tough shit. Maybe just die about it?

I literally can't post photos of me with my brother without people thinking I'm fucking like baiting or whatever the fuck, like, white knighting my disabled brother for sympathy. As if I'm not just memeing with my family or some shit. And then I can't complain or I'm an ableist. It's easier if I just shut up and don't talk about it, isn't it?

Internet disability politics doesn't and has never given a single rancid shit about low functioning disabled people. The absolute zero sum most at risk people in society. What am I supposed to do when my parents die? I literally cannot take care of him physically or financially and he can't leave the state without losing benefits. I don't live there anymore. I have to uproot everything and go home? Or what, turn him over to the state so he can deal with the, what, 65% chance of sexual abuse that happens to nonverbal low functioning disabled people? Be fed dog kibble and left to rot in a piss stained mattress for days? I've seen these places. He can't talk so they can do anything they want to him. No one is going to stick up for him. No one cares.

It boils my fucking blood just to think about. I don't want to hear any woke ass takes about functioning labels from someone on Twitter if they've never materially contributed to the well being of a low functioning disabled person in their fucking life. Those terms aren't for you asshole, they're for them, because they need more help and protection. Tired of trying to keep up with the politics and labels placed upon my family member by people with no stake in the suffering at the end of the stick they're poking him with. It's all so easy in theoreticals but what if "what happens to my brother if my parents die" is a question that's loomed over your head for a decade without an answer? I'll listen to your thoughts on the matter when you Paypal me ten dollars so I can send him some more scarves to stim with.

People hate messy uninspiring stories so they would rather you just shut up and stop reminding them about it. Literally I think if I still lived down there and one more restaurant manager asked me to leave I would fucking stab them

#nate is ANGERY and yelling into the void #only not the void because its pointless if no one hears your shouting #so you know like whatever look at me all eyes on me im a super special boy attention seeking or whatever

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recurring-polynya · 9 months

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Congrats on 1500!!!!! You deserve it :) I’d be interested to see any deleted scenes from Portions for Foxes!

There are two good deleted scenes from Portions for Foxes. Here is the angsty/sappy one (I have another request in the queue, so you' can'll see the bonkers one later). This happens near the end of the fic, so I'm gonna stick the explanation under the cut for spoilers, in case anyone out there has not read my four-year-old fanfic.

So, the first time I wrote the part in Chapter 4 where Renji accidentally tells Rukia that he loves her in the middle of the night, I had her get up in the morning and just go to work, so she wasn't there when he woke up. This is how that scene continued after that. The beginning may feel familiar because I scrounged most of it back into the fic later, but put it here for context.

This scene is actually kind of an interesting insight into my writing process-- I wrote it, it felt wrong to me, I was Angry for a week, and then I replaced it with the version that ended up in the final story. The flaw here, as I eventually identified it, is that the characters Say Too Much. I have a tendency to write my characters explaining everything about the story to the reader, which is not what I want-- I want to keep things subtle, I want to let the reader make connections themselves. Also, while I, personally, am constantly deconstructing and analyzing my own feelings and behavior, that's not a thing that realistic and interesting characters should be doing in stories. On the other hand, this kind of thing definitely definitely falls into the "no writing is wasted" category, because having a piece of text where I have spelled out what is going on can be enormously helpful for making sure it got sprinkled in there.

🌺 🍡 🍂

It's late morning when Renji rolls into the offices of the 13th Division, his arms full.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?" Rukia exclaims, as he dumps an enormous bouquet of red camellias into her arms.

"I'll find a vase," he promises, "I'm sure Captain Ukitake kept some around?"

"Leftmost bottom cabinet," Rukia grudgingly supplies. "Next to the extra paper." She eyes the white paper bag he has also deposited on her desk. It is printed with the label of her favorite confectionery shop. "And you know that's not what I meant."

Renji returns with a vase and relieves her of the flowers. "We need to talk."

She watches him try to fluff the flowers in the vase. "You don't know anything about flowers, do you?"

"I know about camellias," he responds simply.

She swallows. "Renji, don't."

He regards her for a moment. "You're right. I don't want to do this at the office. Let's play hooky."

She looks skeptical, so he snatches up the bag of wagashi and shakes it tantalizingly. "I'm going for a walk and taking these with me."

Rukia wrinkles her nose. "Fine. But only because I know you're going to subject me to this sooner or later, you never let anything lie. Now, help me get out of this chair."

He gives her a hand up.

"Did Brother do this often?" Rukia asks as they walk, trying to needle him. "Play hooky?"

She has repossessed her bag of sweets, although she did give him one.

"He did, actually," Renji replies, a fond smile on his face. "It took me a while to figure out, but he used to say, 'Lieutenant! Attend me!' and then he'd go off somewhere, walking fast, very serious face on, me trying to keep up. And we'd go somewhere-- the first time, it was Soukyoku Hill, I remember that. And he would just stand there for a while, twenty, thirty minutes and then we'd go back. The cherry grove over near the Academy. The Royal Botanical Gardens. Those ugly sculptures outside the Art Museum. I think he took me along because it made it look like he was off doing something official, but I'm pretty sure he just liked getting out of the office once in a while."

Rukia is making a face. "I think he liked being with people, but he didn't like talking to them. He did that to me all the time, too, although it was more often the woods behind the Manor or the gardens. He liked to sit and draw together, too."

They are both silent for a long moment.

"Only took us five months," Renji says quietly, "to be able to talk about him."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?" Rukia snaps, a bit too harshly.

"No," Renji replies. "Look, we're here, you wanna find a spot to sit?"

He's brought them out to the Red Hollow Gate Overlook, a place they have spent many an hour, the best view of South Rukongai in the Seireitei. It is the analog of the overlook in Inuzuri where they used to stand, looking inward. It was the place where they buried their dead, but it never felt morbid to them. It was just a place they all liked to be, a place they might pick to be forever, when the time came.

It is getting into late autumn, and Rukongai is mostly brown now, just a small ring around the Seireitei ablaze in scarlets and oranges. Renji tries to guesstimate where the color ends. 18, maybe? They've probably already had snow in Inuzuri.

No one is up here today. Fall colors have lost their charm and it’s pretty chilly. Renji spreads his haori on the ground and helps Rukia sit before plopping down beside her.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"You don't have to--" Rukia tries to interrupt.

"I do, actually. This has been killing me, Rukia, so let me say my piece, will ya?"

Her mouth snaps shut.

"I have spent my entire adult life trying to be better than I am," he sighs. "A good part of my adolescence, too, for that matter." He smiles sadly. "I wasn't exactly close, but I was gettin' there."

"Close to what?" Rukia demands.

"To being good enough," he explains, as though this clarifies anything. "To feel like I would have something--anything-- to offer you if I were to, y'know, ask you to marry me."

Rukia takes a sharp intake of breath.

"And then-- just after the biggest failure of my whole life-- failed my captain, failed you, failed everyone, and I let myself fall back into being an absolute trash heap of a person, you had to go and ask me, instead."

"Renji, you were grieving. You're still grieving. I shouldn't have--"

"I'm not trying to blame you! I'm just trying to explain why I haven't been the husband I always wanted to be for you. That I'm not even sure if that's something you want. That even though I've been a miserable pile of shit, I still love you, for whatever the love of a miserable pile of shit is worth."

"Oh, Renji," Rukia manages, throwing her arms around him. "You act like I've been any better. The only good thing I've been able to do-- the only thing that's kept me from giving up-- has been trying to hold you together. And lately, it seems like you're doing so much better and I'm not, I'm not better at all, and you don't need me anymore and I don't know-- I don't--"

"Shh, shh," Renji says, taking her in his arms. "Of course I need you. I've always needed you. I've only managed to get my shit in line because I thought that's what you needed. I can go back to drinking my breakfast if that's what you'd prefer."

"It's not," she scowls back at him.

"Okay," he nods. "But maybe instead of being two sad people who can't even talk to each other, maybe we can try to be two sad people who are trying to help each other. Who are trying to get better, for each other's sake, if not for our own."

She nods, unable to speak, and stuffs her face into his side. A muffled “I love you, too. I’m sorry,” eventually emerges.

“You’re sorry? For what?”

She turns her head a little. “For making you marry me. For roping you into Kuchiki family politics.”

He guffaws. “I was the one who told you gettin’ adopted was a good idea, all those years ago. And you shut up about our wedding, I loved our wedding. Fuck Ichigo and his dumb ideas, gettin’ married in secret and fucking over a bunch of nobles was awesome.”

“I liked it, too,” she says in a tiny little voice.

Renji sighs. “Speaking of Ichigo, though… I guess it’s probably about time I go apologize to him, huh?”

“Why is he mad at you anyway?”

“He didn’t think I was doing a very good job of taking care of you. And I got mad at him back because he was right.”

“Do you have to go right now?”

Renji shakes his head, and tightens his arms around her. “Naw," he says. "He can wait. I’m busy right now.”

#1500 follower deleted scenes fest

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kalpasio · 1 year

Text

The Chef in the Shitty Kitchen

Kitchen Grade: A. No, wait. S

A Kalpas x Reader ModernAU! requested on AO3, chapter 5, the final chapter below!

With no family other than each other, Sakura and Rin's apartment was left for you and Kalpas to empty. Every so often, you'd have to step out to get some air, and do your best to rub away your tears. When you came back, Kalpas would take his turn, though his way of mourning seemed to rely more on putting dents in the dumpster outside and less on crying. Anyone who came within five feet of the man was at risk of having their ass handed to them, though most got away with just some harsh words.

Your fridge now held five loaves of rising dough at all times, which was fine by you. Kalpas seemed to bake more when he was frustrated, and as much as you knew you needed to eat, finding both the mental and physical energy to make a full meal was difficult. Bread and butter was your dinner more often than not, especially while you were still packing your friend's belongings.

“I think I'm going to move.” You were lying on your couch with a pillow in your arms. Kalpas still came over on Wednesdays, even though the apartment across the hall had long been rented out to someone neither of you knew. Both of you appreciated each other's company more than you'd ever admit, though Kalpas still complained about your kitchen every week. There was no response after you broke the silence, but you could hear the movements in the kitchen still for a second, and you knew you had Kalpas' attention.

“I could use a change. And this place...” You gave a laugh that lacked any enthusiasm. “I shouldn't have to worry about randomly crying whenever I walk around my own home.”

Kalpas came into view when he leaned against the back of the couch to look at you. Your hand itched to reach up and cup his cheek, but you tightened your grip on the pillow instead.

“Where?” His deep voice still sounded angry, but for him this was fairly tame.

“Don't know. Not even sure it'll happen.”

“You'll tell me when you do,” he growled and you scoffed a bit.

“Yeah. You can be the first to use the kitchen and tell me how shitty it is.”

“You're getting a good kitchen. I'm tired of working in this shit hole.”

“Hey!” You smacked his arm with the pillow. “Not all of us make a million dollars a night, and can afford fancy kitchens.” Kalpas continued to glare down at you, and you glared right back, daring him to say something. When you grew bored of the staring contest, you spoke again.

“I don't see why you're so fussed about me having a nice kitchen. I'm just as capable of going to your place as you are coming here.” Considering the conversation done, you sat up and dropped the pillow on the couch so you could stand and make your way to the kitchen.

“What?” Kalpas' tone had an extra hint of rage in it that sent a slight shiver up your spine.

“What?” You echoed back, though much less aggressive, and way more confused.

“You could come to my place. This whole time?!”

“I get the feeling saying 'yes' is not good for my health, so let's go with 'no.'”

Kalpas leapt over the couch at you, who let out a shriek at the attack. You landed on the ground with him hovering over you while you thanked the landlord for installing such soft carpet.

“I've been coming to this dump for months!”

“Stop talking shit about my apartment!”

“Stop living in a shitty apartment!”

Two months later, you were moving into a new apartment, in no small part due to a very firm push from Kalpas. You were only a five minute walk away from your old building, but this apartment had a kitchen that passed Kalpas' unreasonably high standards. Multiple real estate agents had mistaken you both as a couple, and after the third, you gave up. Explaining that no you weren't together, and that Kalpas just used your kitchen more than you did, was easier said than done.

Originally, you hadn't been interested in the apartment you stood in now, it had three bedrooms while you only needed two; one to sleep in, and one to work in. Kalpas argued that he was tired of sleeping on your couch, to which you responded that he should just drive fifteen minutes home. The compromise you reached (you got tired of fighting over it, but whatever) was that you'd have three bedrooms, but he'd pay for a third of the rent.

As promised, you let the chef use your kitchen first, and as expected, he was immediately complaining. When you tried to point out that he approved it, you were met with a glare and threat of no food, which shut you up pretty fast. It didn't matter in the end; after that one meal, it was always you coming over to his place.

At some point—probably only your second visit—Kalpas got annoyed with having to unlock the door for you, and gave you a spare key. Soon after, Wednesday dinner expanded to include Saturday. It was Kalpas' busiest day, and your day off, so you made food for you both while Kalpas complained about his job. For the same reason, you started making dinner on Sunday, and he added on Tuesdays so you'd both cook two days of the week. And well, if you happen to show up on Monday or Thursday or Friday, offering to order take out or split the cooking, who's really keeping track?

“You should just move in.”

You scoffed at the suggestion, even though it made your mind giddy with possibilities. “You were the one who wanted me to move into my current apartment.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, 'no'?” The potato you'd been peeling dropped into the pot with a splash while you faced Kalpas with your hands on your hips.

“I told you to move in before we went on any tours.” he sent you a glare, then went back to looking through his spice cabinet.

“I though you were joking!” Throwing your hands in the air, you gave a groan. “I'd literally never been here before, how was I supposed to know I'd be coming over every day?”

“You think I make jokes?” between his voice and the burning stare he gave, it was clear Kalpas wanted your response to be 'no.'

“You could! I don't know!” Your hands flopped down to your sides. “Even if I did move in, your second bedroom is just storage, and do you really want to explain your weird roommate on the couch every time you bring someone home?”

Kalpas stared at you for a second before his eyebrows pinched together in irritation and this time it was his turn to groan. “The only person I'm trying to 'bring home,'” he mocked, “has been ignoring every attempt I make.” Long strides brought Kalpas across the kitchen and right in front of you while he spoke, until his hands were on the counter behind you, and all you could see was him.

“I'm sorry?” The conversation was confusing enough, without Kalpas standing so close to you and turning your brain to mush.

“Oh? Now you're sorry?”

“Do you want my help getting their attention or someth—”

“Fuck's sake,” Kalpas growled before his lips pressed harshly against your own. Any shocked noises you made were drowned out by the low hum of satisfaction Kalpas gave. It was a rumble deep in his chest, and even though it ended before you could feel it, you still spread your hands across his ribs as you leaned into the kiss.

“Why didn't you just do that before?” you panted slightly after going so long without air.

“I didn't realize you were so dense.”

Sending an angry glare, you jabbed a finger into his chest. “You're carrying all the heavy boxes when I move.” Narrowing your eyes, you resisted the urge to start another kiss. Kalpas did not, and you soon found the fingers that had been pointing a second before, wrapped tightly around his shirt to keep you steady.

Within a week, you were moved, the fact that some of your boxes were still not unpacked from the first move speeding up the process. You already spent so much time at Kalpas' place that very little seemed to change. The biggest difference for Kalpas was that you cleaned out his second bedroom, turned storage closet, so that you could use the space for your own work. The biggest difference for you was an abrupt end to your horrible eating habits.

Between lunch and dinner at work, Kalpas would call you, and while the conversations were never blatantly romantic, the fact that he called every day to make sure you'd eaten had to count for something, right? If that didn't, then the rough kisses when he got home certainly did. Kalpas didn't do 'soft and caring' very often. Kisses had enough force to press you against the counter, and hugs would squeeze the air out of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Potentially the worst ending I've ever written, but we'll see how long it takes me to beat that record lol I'm sorry that 1) this took so gosh darn long to write, and 2) that I haven't been writing lately. I had like 3 weeks where there was a test each week, and then one week before finals and like all I did was study so there was zero writing happening. I'm DONE WITH FINALS NOW THOUGH so I'm really fucking hoping I can finally catch up on requests and everything over the next month, so expect more stories soon!

#kalpas x reader #honkai x reader #azaryawrites #tamalethebear #cross posted on ao3 #I am determined to actually start writing regularly

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evilichu · 5 days

Text

it's been a really long time since the last time i posted anything on this blog. like, really long. 2023 i think. maybe i should do an update but i have other things in my mind right now and i need to write them down just to clear my head.

topics -- self esteem issues, my relationship, college.

self esteem issues: i have let myself go. i don't even know what to say other than that. i'm very aware that i have a troubled relationship with food and weight in general, but it's been hitting me really hard lately; not because i've been restricting but the opposite. since i'm stressed i look for comfort in food and i can feel my belly growing bigger and my clothes feeling smaller. i'm getting so much fatter and i can barely look at myself in the mirror anymore. it's so fucking disgusting. but i can't stop eating, it's all i ever do. it's just so comforting, until i'm done eating and the realizations sets in and i wanna die. it's affecting my social anxiety as well, since i feel disgusting and look disgusting i obviously don't want anyone to see how bad i look. anytime i'm out i'm sure everyone can tell that i look a lot fatter than i used to and that i'm disgusting. i don't even wanna weigh myself in fear of the numbers that it might show me. god. anyway. that's topic one.

my relationship: my ex and i got back together. maybe some day i'll make a whole post about it but for now that's it. my attachment issues have resurrected because of it. i don't wanna blame the relationship in itself, but i did feel a shift in my mental health as soon as we went back together. we've been together almost a month now and things changed rather quickly. as time goes on he is getting more and more used to being with me and he's becoming less romantic. i'm aware that relationships lowkey work like that, you get used to the person but it doesn't mean you love them less. but i'm not like that at all, i think. i think about him all the fucking time even after a month and i wanna tell him i love him all the time and how pretty he is and all of that, and the only thing stopping me is that i think it would annoy him. i feel like it's unfair in some way, he started being so sweet and attentive with me and making me feel loved just to drop the act in like two weeks and now i can't even complain cuz he is "too busy". weren't you "too busy" two weeks ago too? it's not like you got a new job or promotion, you're doing the same thing but two weeks ago you'd take a minute to text me how much you miss me and now you simply don't. AND I KNOW! I KNOW THIS IS SUCH A NON-ISSUE! but that's what i mean, the attachment issues. if i wasn't so emotionally invested in every single little thing, if my entire mood didn't depend on three words written in a message app, then i would be absolutely fine. but i care, i care so fucking much and i feel so abandoned all the time. and i've been crying so much. and i'm putting too much pressure on him and i can't stop thinking that he's gonna dump me any day now. which, fair enough, but I CANNOT STOP. ugh.

college: i'm in college now and i'm a failure. i had never expected to be this bad at studying and it's affecting my pride so much. i can't focus for shit and i procrastinate so much it's embarrassing. i don't even know why i thought i could do this. i have my first real exam tomorrow and i am not ready at all and i can't study. i don't know what am i going to do. it's crazy.

i've been so angry at myself for all of these reasons that i am genuinely thinking of cutting again. i just can't take it. i don't wanna disappoint anyone, least of all my therapist (the only person i wouldn't be able to lie to) but i don't know what to do. i am so fucking angry that i can't do anything right and i'm fucking my own life up: my weight, my relationship, my career, i can't do it right. i feel like i do deserve the punishment.

but you know, that's my mental health for you.

#bpd diary

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callmeghostly · 4 months

Text

Okay, well this is going to be different from my horny weeb content but I don't know where else to post it...

TW: Mental Health discussions, trauma dumping (possibly), General Angst

if you are not in a good headspace to read this, don't. please - Take care of yourself, I'll be back to my regularly scheduled shit posting after this brief message.

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

Okay -

To make a long story short, I'm.. I don't know what is going on anymore. I feel like a shell of myself, an empty husk.

To clarify;

these last few months I have been back and forth about being an absolute shell of myself, In November I lost my job without any real reason - Not to worry though, I started a new job this past Tuesday, this will come back up later.

I also have been in a relationship for the last, almost 6 years (again, this comes into play shortly)

Now, none of you know who i am, or what I am like outside of this chaotic website, which is why I'm sharing it here. I have been slowing spiraling and I have no one to talk to about it so I'm going to scream it into the fucking abyss and hope that works.

This last week while it should've been happy and refreshing, has been absolute bullshit and hell in a handbasket. I've been feeling some type of way about my relationship for months now - Am i comfortable? you're supposed to feel like roommates after the initial honey moon phase, he's just not the affectionate type, Etc. The more time I spend online the more i don't find myself 'awwing' at couples, I feel jealous, unloved and unwanted - I'm 24, I should know that EVERYONE on the internet is only going to show the best side of themselves, and I do.. so I can't help but find myself confused over all of this. I've noticed I've pulled away from him, not becuase I want to necessarily. Heres the thing, I know he cares - He wouldn't have been there for me through half of the things he has been if not, but at this point I feel cared for - not loved, and only cared for out of obligation.

On top of this, I feel like my strongest assets are not knowing how to communicate with people effectively and by proxy, pushing those people away.

I feel like the fights I get into, both with my partner and my friends, are due to lack and breaks in communication in tone. Which is definitely something I need and am trying to work on.

In this last week I have gotten into, verbal disagreements we'll say, with two of the people in my life, on the same day and ever since then, I've been foggy mentally.

So, lets wrap back around -

I started my new Job this past Tuesday, it was fine - however due to my fucked sleep schedule from being out of work for 2 months I had been up since 12am and I had to set through training from 8:30-5. I was fucking tired and ready to just crash, however that same night content that I had been waiting on dropped, now something to note - My partner and I have a 2 bedroom apartment, one we use as an office- I get very loud and obnoxious when I see things I enjoy, which he doesn't like to listen to me scream (which is fair) so I told him, possibly rather harshly to admit my own fault, to give me a few minutes becuase I knew I'd be screaming (from excitement) or he could put his headset on, and That pissed him off and other than some hurtful words we didn't talk much therefore ruining both any appetite or enjoyment for the content I was watching, never the less I tried to do both and regardless, my night was soured regardless.

Moving forward from that, I trauma dump on one of my friends - she was so gracious to listen and I would like to be clear, I am in no way trash talking her or this situation. I know she may see this (If you do, Hi I love and appreciate you, I promise) I just... Need to frame the situation. She listened, gave me advice and tried to make me feel better, in turn I came across as an absolute dick, misreading a conversation and upsetting her causing her to log off for the night.

5 days later, I can't shake either of these incidents and to them, life is back to normal, and here I am - Screaming at strangers on the internet for someone to care.

I don't know what to do, I feel like a cornered animal with no outlet or way way of escape - I just, I want to fall in love with being alive again and I feel like that is the worlds hardest ask - I'm slowly shutting myself out and down..

There is no way to wrap this up peacefully, light heartedly, or humorously. There are so many other things I could add to this, and while no one is going to read this - It's gone on for long enough. So, I'll end it here.

Moral of the story; Take care of yourself, try to love yourself first and maybe things will turn out okay for you.

to whoever may see this, I'll always be here for you all if you need someone to that, I promise.

Sincerely,

Ghostly

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k8rgrl · 6 months

Text

Psst, sad and angry venting about something recent below, it's sad girl hours. <3

Tw: relationship stuff, abusive partner (not with me.), Trauma, and lying about having not given consent after the fact.

You never used tumblr, always preferred Pinterest. I never got it but I'm glad you'll never find this. Because I know it'd hurt you.

And after all the anxiety, and panic, and heartbreak you've put me through? I'd still take you back. Basically no questions asked.

I miss your laugh, your lil rambles.

You fell hard and fast for me, after a gap, previously being friends.

Damnit I fell too. We were both poly, or at least considering it, but your casual partner wasn't. I didn't want to break that up, but you insisted that you wanted to be with me like that, and it'd be wrong to just let you lie to her. She's innocent here.

So you did. There was a brief moment, where I saw the red flag, and remembered what happened with Emma. How you fell for her, then dumped her for a boy that broke your heart.

Gods damn it in that moment, that brief, infinitesimal moment, I knew. I fucking knew. I knew that if someone charmed you off your feet when you went back, you'd go for them. And that was fine! It was an open relationship!

Fuck, man. Why'd it have to be him? Another creep like Nate. Damnit Marley, I was there for you. 3 long days, of me being there for you as you vented about how you were scared of him, and how he did so much to you.

I had covid, man, I was bedridden. You asked to see me that Sunday. I wanted to. So badly. So so badly. It wasn't safe, I didn't. I couldn't.

I felt awful. So, we planned for Wednesday. Sure. We'll just hang out, like old times. No sexual stuff, because of your current partner. Fine. It's weird, but fine.

You cancel because you feel mediocre. That's fine. You say we'll meet that weekend. Sure. The 18th.

He told me, through your account, to fuck off. I was horrified. It was out of nowhere. I panic. I drive 45 minutes to check on you. You're not fucking there. You're with him. My heart is pounding out of my chest, all day. It took *weeks* to recover. I'm still not okay.

I was so fucking relieved. So relieved. You left the server. You send me a friend request on your alt after two days of *nothing* NOTHING.

Blocked.

Days pass.

What a gut punch. I knew that was a lie, I had textual evidence, chatlog after chatlog of you giving enthusiastic consent, and saying you didn't regret it after.

But it still fucking stung. Why the pivot? Why now? I kicked you from the server again, after that. I had therapy moments later, but I'm *still* fucking reeling. I tried being detached. It almost worked. But fuck, dude. I spent hours worrying about you, didn't get any good sleep this month for you, even pulled an all nighter while sick with covid, for you. And I expected nothing back. I still don't. And then you accuse me of raping you. I didn't even really want to. I was dysphoric. The experience was fine. Nothing special. You said about the same. It was just another thing.

So why now? Why now just say whatever you can to hurt me? That was targeted, dude. I can't even blame you, you're a victim here. You're being abused, actively. And I can only sit here, and cope with the fact that you pushed me away for someone who you said scared you.

Vent over. I fucking guess.

#k8vents

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stardustincarnate · 3 years

Text

HEADCANON ━━━ when their s/o is arachnophobic.

genre : a tad bit of humor.

characters included : light, l, misa, near, minoru, mikami.

- "Uhm.. Light.."

- Slightly annoyed by the fact that you had just disturbed his train of thoughts, he looked up and asked noncommittally, "What?"

- "There's a spider.. in your bathroom.. And I gotta pee.."

- Hells, what? He hastily strode towards the bathroom, stopping and internally panicking once he saw how humongous it was. Several gangly legs... Eugh. Spiders had always disturbed him.

- But he had to do it. Just think, what could possibly be lamer than the god of the new world being terrified of spiders? That would tarnish his reputation. No kidding.

- Light took the broom from the side and carefully shooed the spider off the walls while you slouched behind him and held his shoulders, screaming everytime the creature got near you.

- Some time later, you lost sight of the spider.

- "[Y/N], where is it?"

- "I don't kn -- oh my gosh!!!"

- "What is it?"

- "It's on your head!"

- What the fu -- okay, calm down, Light. You can do this. You've killed plenty of the bad guys before. This is merely a spider.

- '[Y/N].. The predicament you put me into... I swear you will not get away with this.'

- He's utterly spooked, but he was still preserving his image, so it took quite a while to get the abomination off himself. He looked like he just finished an intense tennis match by then.

- "Thanks.. Light."

- "Huh? Yeah."

- Some time later...

- Was that spiders written on top of a page in the death note? Ryuk cackled. He wondered if he could blackmail Light using that to give him more apples...

- "Ryuzaki! You gotta see this, please!"

- "This better be important for me to be disturbed in the middle of a case."

- You took him in front of the comfort room and pointed at the door. He saw no significance in there and decided to walk away. You immediately pulled him back and pointed at the door again.

- "What? You want me to watch as you take a dump?"

- "No! Look, there's a spider!"

- "I am aware. What? It's just a spider. It's not gonna kill you."

- "I need you to get rid of it!"

- L almost rolled his eyes, looking very uninterested in helping you.

- "Okay fine! I'll give you whatever sweets you want if you get rid of it for me."

- Okay, that seemed fair. Besides...

- He sauntered closer to the door and lifted his arms. The lanky creature crawled on him. He looked okay with it. Too okay.

- For the sake of his own entertainment, also because he disliked you disturbing him, he raised the arm with the spider on it towards you. You hastily went in the comfort room and shut the door on his face.

- He kept that spider for future uses.

- Uh-oh. There was a spider. You needed someone to get rid of it, but the only one around was your girlfriend, who's just as arachnophobic as you are.

- You just vacantly stared at the bathroom door and waited for the spider to miraculously disappear.

- Eventually, Misa showed up because she needed to take a shower.

- "[Y/N]? What are you doing? Are you gonna use the bathroom?"

- "Yes.. But.." You pointed to the abomination lurking near the doorknob. Misa squealed and hid behind you.

- "Kyahh! Get rid of it!"

- "Me?! Get rid of it?! No, you do it!"

- "But I'm scared!"

- "So am I!"

- After a long moment of silence, you sighed and suggested, "Let's just get rid of it together. Get the brooms."

- Misa looked even more spooked, but she didn't have much of a choice. The spider wasn't gonna get rid of itself. She took two long brooms and you both began to sweep the eight-legged creature away in a careful distance.

- There was so much noise and everything had eventually become chaotic.

- "AHH! IT'S CRAWLING TOWARDS ME! [Y/N]!!!"

- You screamed yourself as you began sweeping it away from her, but the little shit decided to crawl on your broom instead. You immediately dropped it and scrammed out of the house. Misa followed, also screaming. The neighbors were greatly alarmed.

- "Near... I need your help.."

- "What's the matter?" He said, attention fixed solely on the cards that he was stacking.

- "There's a spider in the bathroom..."

- "What of it?" He asked noncommittally, though he already knew what you were going to say.

- "I need you to get rid of it. Please."

- You feverishly walked to and front. You couldn't hold back any longer. Near looked like he'd rather eat glass, but okay. He wasn't that heartless.

- "Stephen." He called urgently. The latter sauntered towards him and asked what the matter was.

- "There's a spider in the bathroom. Please get rid of it quickly. [Y/N] is about to explode."

- Stephen headed straight to the bathroom, followed by you, and grabbed the spider to relocate it elsewhere. Finally, time for you to break free.

- "Minoru. Help me." You texted your boyfriend. He asked what the matter was but you did not elaborate and only told him to come to your house asap.

- He was worried upon seeing your panic-stricken face. He thought of the worse case scenarios -- and then you took him to the bathroom where a huge spider was stuck on the ceiling.

- He so regretted coming.

- "Oi oi oi! Where do you think you're going?"

- "Back home? No thanks, I don't like spiders."

- "Neither do I!"

- "Then why should I be the one to get rid of it?"

- "Because no one else is home and I've been holding my dump for thirty minutes. You gotta help me!"

- His face fell. He didn't have much of choice, he was there anyway, so he sighed and picked up a broom. In a safe distance, he very gently shooed the spider away lest it falls on his hair.

- There were lots of unnecessary squeaks.

- Thank goodness, the spider had finally fallen. Exactly in the open toilet. Just as planned. Minoru didn't think twice of flushing it.

- You really didn't want to bother your busy boyfriend, but you had enough. You've been seeing the same spider for lurking inside the house for weeks now. Teru gave it no heed as it grew bigger. Then it got into your room. That took the last straw.

- "It's only a spider [Y/N]. It's not like it's gonna kill you."

- "You don't understand. The way that thing moves its leg is enough to give me heart attack! I can't sleep knowing that thing might crawl on my face as it pleases. It's so creepy! Why does it even look like that? Get rid of it, please."

- Well that was mean. Teru clicked his tongue. No point of trying to convince you that it's harmless. He sighed and took a chair, standing on it to get the spider which then crawled on his arm. He looked far too calm in your opinion. You backed away from him.

- He opened the windows and set the creature free, immediately closing it afterwards. Though he was pretty sure that it would come back sooner or later.

#death note #death note x reader #light yagami x reader #misa amane x reader #l x reader #l lawliet x reader #mikami x reader #minoru x reader #near x reader #death note imagine #death note headcanons #death note hcs #nate river x reader #tw: arachnophobia

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