#girl help I need therapy after I got rid of my last therapist for telling me to call the cops on my family 😳

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Three Little Changes (Part 12)

TW for self harm and suicidal thoughts in this chapter.

Azula isn’t quite the same when she finally comes back to school. 

But how can she be after such a near miss?

Her eyes look twice as tired and she has forgone applying makeup. This time when she quietly invites herself to Katara’s lunch table she lets her stay. Mai and TyLee are inevitably present as well and, to her surprise, Chan and Ruon–some ten minutes into lunch–decide to tag along too.

“Seriously, we’re really going to let them sit here?” Suki mumbles when the quartet take to the lunch line for extra snacks. 

“I don’t know, I think that it’s nice to have them.” Aang smiles. “TyLee is showing me how to make these bead friendship bracelets.”

“But Azula?” Suki frowns. 

“She’s fine.” Katara insists. “She just wants to have lunch in peace.” In fact, Azula hasn’t really spoken much at all. Not to Katara and her friend group and not to her own friends. She quietly nibbles on a chocolate chip cookie as she stares off distantly.  Katara wonders what is going through her mind.

She wonders if it has anything to do with the mostly healed cuts on her arms. 

She wonders if those thoughts have caused the cuts on her arms. 

.oOo.

The next time that she sees Azula it is in the hallway after the last bell has rung. Katara scurries to fall in line with her step. “He wasn’t mad, was he?”

Azula swallows and Katara can see the tears waiting behind her eyes to be shed. But she takes a deep breath and her voice is surprisingly level. “He won’t talk to me.” 

“All because you went to a psych ward?” 

Azula shrugs. “It’s not a good look for him.”

Katara furrows her brows. “But nobody knows?”

“They think that father took me with him on one of his business trips, yes.” She confirms. “But he is still angry.”

“Does he know about…?”

Azula looks around. By now the halls are vacant. “The gun? He’s too busy to have noticed its absence.” 

“Does your therapist?” 

“Why do you think I got carted off?” She scowls. 

Katara’s eyes fall on Azula’s arms and the girl pushes her sleeves to cover them. But she has already seen and Azula knows it. “Those too.” She confirms. “But it was mostly for the gun.” She pauses for a very long time. “They probably would have kept me longer if they knew that I almost used it a second time.” 

Katara’s heart plummets. “W-why would you tell me that?”

Azula shrugs. “Because you asked.” Another lengthy pauses. She stuffs her hands into her pockets. “And, I guess, because you’re part of the reason why I decided not to.” 

Katara finds herself eyeballing those covered cuts all over again. “You’re not still thinking about it, are you?”

Azula frowns, her brows creasing as she holds her arm protectively to her chest. “I did that instead of using the gun.” 

Those words don’t bring her any sort of relief. 

“I still need your father to help me get to therapy.” She re-adjusts the position of her shoulder bag. “I am part of an outpatient program. I think that it’s pointless.” 

“It isn’t pointless if you’re still…”

“Alive.” Azula finishes. 

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I wish that one of those two accidents would have done the trick.” She looks off.  “The ocean isn’t done with me; maybe next time.” She trails off into a sigh. 

“I don’t wish that.” Katara mentions. But she had in the past. After the worst of the tormenting she very much has gone home and begged the universe to just get rid of Azula somehow. And maybe through Star and Lian and a slew of awful happenings, the universe is trying its hardest to do just that. “My dad will help you get to therapy and yours doesn’t have to know.”

“Is he free now?”

“We were going to go to Hama’s ice cream parlor but we can go after we drop you off.” She pauses. “You can come with us if you want. You can take a napkin or something to show your dad that that’s where you went.”

“You’re more clever than I gave you credit for.” Azula mutters. She thinks that that is as close to a compliment as she will ever get with Azula.

.oOo.

She doesn’t know how to tell Katara that she doesn’t think that they should be together without it sounding like just one more self-pitying, self-loathing thing. But the facts are the facts. If this whole circumstance is enough to tear them apart then they probably weren’t a strong pair to begin with. “You should find someone more supportive.” Azula mumbles. She doesn’t lift her head from her knees. “I can’t do it. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing.”

They should have never gotten together in the first place. Given their history this was bound to end badly anyhow. 

“You’re really going to break up with me now?” Katara asks. “I need somebody! I need support.” 

“And I’m not doing a very good job at it anyways. You have Suki and Sokka and Aang. You don’t need me.” She is more trouble than she is worth. She is making a hard thing into a complete struggle. 

She is guilting the girl as she had been guilted into sticking around here. They are going to be the ruin of each other really.

“Look, I didn’t mean what I said…”

“But you’ve said it twice now.” 

Katara presses her lips together. “Maybe I do mean it, I just say it the wrong way at the wrong time. I really do think that you’d be better off if you weren’t so hard on yourself. You’ve got so many talents and you just don’t seem to see that. It’s just frustrating to watch. Or hard to watch.”

Azula swallows. “Taking care of people isn’t one of those skills.” She doesn’t even know why Katara is apologizing to her. She was going to leave her stranded. “As you can probably tell.” She grits her teeth. If Suki hadn’t been there she would be well on her way home. She likes to think that she would have gotten less then half there before feeling awful and turning back.

“You’re also not good at apologizing.” Suki rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it Suki. I kind of started it…”

“I will worry about it!” Suki throws her hands up. “I never said that you shouldn’t have apologized. You’re both awful and full of self pity and it’s kind of overwhelming.” 

“You didn’t help.” Katara frowns. “Neither does Sokka. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for her to believe that she’s not that bad at supporting people if you two weren’t constantly making remarks!”

“Oh so your couple drama is my fault now?”

“It’s not your fault but you’re making it worse.” 

“Just forget about it. I’m fine, my feelings aren’t that delicate.” Azula mutters but sometimes she thinks that they are. Sometimes she thinks so and she hates it so much. She swallows; perhaps Katara is right, maybe she could use some self love. At the very least, it would do her well to stop being so critical of herself. 

She should probably talk about that with her therapist. 

“It’s not fine, Azula. You’re my girlfriend and I think that my friends and stupid brother should at least try to give you a chance.” She scoops a rock out of the sand. It is a dull gray, smooth and ocean-polished.

Suki sighs. “Alright, fine, you get one chance.” 

“A fair one?” Azula quirks a brow. 

A round of applause and joyful hollering reminds Azula that they are still in public and she is as thankful for the competition and the spectacle that it creates as Katara is distraught. “Heat two is probably about to start.” Katara mumbles. And certainly enough, the announcer confirms as much. 

Azula furrows her brows, “why don’t you take part in the competition anyways?”

“Because I can’t.”

“I was going to wait until your birthday to give it to you, but I bought a customized surfboard for you shortly after the accident. It’s designed to accommodate prosthetics, it’ll probably come with an adjustment period but you can…” she gestures to the waves. 

“I don’t know Azula, it’s so soon after the accident…”

“It’s been a few weeks.”

“I’m not supposed to get it too wet.” She rubs her finger over the rock. “Let alone with salt water.”

Azula gestures to her current location.

“You make a good point. I probably shouldn’t have agreed to go for a swim so soon.”

“But does it hurt?” Suki asks. 

She shakes her head. 

“You’ve already been in the water for at least twenty minutes now.” Azula shrugs. “You might as well go big. I’ll get your board.”

“But I’m not on the roaster…”

“You will be; if you can’t puppy dog eye your way in, I’m sure that if I had them enough money…”

“You have got to stop flaunting your wealth so carelessly.” Suki grumbles.

Azula shrugs, “if it helps, it helps.” Until father notices and tells her to stop spending it on other people. “I’ll be back.”

.oOo.

Katara inhales slowly. She grips the board so hard that she fears that she will somehow snap a chunk out of it. 

“We’ll have our lifeguards and a fellow surfer out there with you, should something go amiss.” Kuruk tells her. “Chan will be there in case you need some support.”

Katara nods, the butterflies in her tummy are flitting wildly about. She can already feel herself being launched off of the board and into the cruel mercy of the waves. She can picture a family of sharks circling and swirling beneath the board, just ready to finish what the first hand started. 

“Don’t push yourself, Katara, think of this as something fun.”

“Right, coach. Fun.” She frowns. Frightening more like, and possibly humiliating when she will eventually find that she can’t even find her balance and then everyone on the beach and all of the cameras will drink the spectacle in. In the moment she hates Azula for pressuring her into this. She looks at that smile, that warm and encouraging smile and all she can see is that nasy, smug smirk she used to wear. 

Suki gives a thumbs up. Katara looks back to Kuruk. 

“Think of it as your first time surfing all over again. Do you remember how that felt?”

She nods.

“How did it feel?”

“Terrifying and exhilarating.”  She had felt alive.

Free.

Powerful.

“Then go out there and feel it again!” 

Katara closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. The first wave rolls in and she lets it pass. Her fingers shake as she positions the board. She waits for the ocean to level back out before paddling on her belly to meet the second one. She is the last to take off and she certainly doesn’t get the running start that the other’s have. But she is in the water and she is on the board. She takes another deep breath and after several attempts to successfully pop up, manages to get herself up right. But even with the board’s special grip, she finds herself thrown from it. Were it not for the water rolling over her head, she might have cried out in frustration. 

She should be happy that treading water and swimming comes back to her on a more primitive, instinctual level. It is certainly easier than walking. She grabs hold of her board, pulls herself atop it and inhales rather greedily. 

She closes her eyes and inhales through her nose. She will give it one last try. One last and then she is going to call it quits before she hurts herself. She pops back up and finds her balance, it is steadier than the last time. But it is not enough to keep her on the board. 

She spares a glance towards Azula–the girl is too far to read. She is probably embarrassed, she probably won’t want to be seen leaving the beach with her. 

Katara pops up a third time.

One more time, this time for sure. 

She has two more one more times before she finally keeps her footing. The wave is tiny, the rest of the competitors don’t bother with it. Had she two legs, she wouldn’t have either. But here and now, she takes this wave with a swell of gratitude. She is wobbly and her greatest surf trick this time around is staying upright until the wave sinks back into nothingness. 

But, for the love of all things good, it feels fantastic. It isn’t special, it doesn’t feel exhilarating or powerful at all but it feels like a chance. It feels like some sort of stupid milestone that she is grateful to have reached. 

Her legs throb and Azula and Kuruk have to carry her back to her wheelchair but she had done it. She had surfed. She finds that her cheeks are wet and not with ocean water. She can still surf. “I did it.” She half-gasps to Azula. 

“Yes, and you got to compete in the championships.” 

“Even if it counts, I came in dead last.”

“But you got to compete in the championships.” Azula shrugs. “I feel like you should get bonus points for competing so freshly out of the hospital and with one leg…and no prior physical therapy.” She taps her chin. “It’s rather impressive really; truth be told I didn’t think that you could do it.” She informs her as plainly as she would if she had been talking about a movie she’d just seen.

Katara can’t help but balk. “Then why did you…” 

“Sometimes I don’t want to be right.” She shrugs. “Anyways, the point is that now you know you can still surf. And if you can successfully ride a wave so soon then imagine what you’ll be able to do when you’re able to resume in full.” 

“You’re the worst.” She grumbles put she pulls her into a hug because, dammit, she is also the best.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Katara #Azutara #Fanfiction

[pretoriafics]

Therapy Sessions with the Devil - Part II

You guys requested me about this one so much! I'm glad all of you liked part one. Now, prepare yourself for your worst nightmare being Homelander's therapist.

Word count: 1.683 Contain: Therapist!Reader x Homelander Warnings: Mental disorders, sexual harassment, stalking and regurgitation. +16 only Versão em português aqui PART 1 THE BOYS MASTERLIST

If hell really exists, for you, it sure would be Friday mornings. Of course, that was a very contradictory thought for most people. Friday was usually associated with a fun day where, after work, you could go out with your friends in the evening and return home whenever you wanted. That was the advantage of Fridays: The fact that you know you don't have to wake up early the next day to go to work. Knowing that the week was coming to an end was like a cool breeze, as well as knowing that the next day would be pure rest. That didn't exactly apply to you. Okay, it was great to know that you wouldn't have to work the other day. That was the only good point on Fridays for you because on that specific day of the week you have Homelander as a patient. Your attempt to get rid of him on leaving Vought had been successfully thwarted because you were apparently a good professional. And you've never hated yourself so much for being good at what you did as a job. It turns out that, lately, things had started to get a little strange in the consultations with him. Homelander always mentioned a girl, whom he said he was starting to see differently. He filled her with compliments when he spoke of her, always reinforcing how much he loved the color of her eyes, her calm voice, and the way her hair moved with her graceful walk. Of course, according to him, if she were a Supe she would be perfect. But that's okay because he said he really accepted her "with that imperfection". You started to suspect that he was talking about you but avoided thinking about it. It not only made you sick with dread, but it completely perturbs you. A Homelander in love with you would be a great way to make it even worse than it was going. That morning on a Friday the 13th, when you arrived at the office, you saw that on your table was a sumptuous bouquet with the most beautiful reddish roses you had seen. Despite the beauty of those flowers, you took that as confirmation of your worst nightmare. Terrified, you let your bag hit the floor and ran to the bathroom. There, you knelt in front of the toilet and put all your breakfast out. Tears were wetting your face, your hands were shaking in pure fear. And then, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “Yes, put everything out. Everything will be fine, it will be over… ” It was him. Homelander's voice flooded your ears, and you had to take a deep breath to try to take some control over yourself. “Okay, I'm already better. It must have been something I ate for breakfast. Can you excuse me and wait for me on the couch, please? ” He nodded, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Sure." As soon as he left, you closed the door. You took the toothbrush and the paste you kept there, brushed your teeth, and wiped away your tears. Then, you left the bathroom ready to get it over with. So, you sat in your chair while Homelander directed his worried blue eyes to you. You have started the query. "Well, let's get started then." “Don't feel pressured to make our session today. We can do it tomorrow, you are not feeling well. ” You forced a slight smile. “I'm better, thanks. And I don't work on weekends. ” Not least because you weren't willing to let Homelander ruin your Saturday. "I bought these flowers for you when I was coming here." He got up from the couch and took the bouquet from the table, handing it to you with a tender look. Homelander was beaming and even looked so anxious as a teenager in front of their crush. You, however, froze. You clenched your jaw and forced another smile, holding the flowers. “I appreciate it, John. I'm flattered, but I need you to know that we need to keep our relationship strictly professional and impersonal. I can have my therapist register canceled with this type of relationship with a patient because it is unethical, and I don't want to end up harming myself. ” Those words made you realize how brave you were. You had fought an internal battle to say that. "But I will put the flowers in a vase after the consultation." His expression became austere and you froze with it. Homelander nodded and lay down on the couch while you put the flowers back on your table. Fortunately, at that meeting, he hadn't mentioned you or anything you might suspect was about you. The subjects of that consultation were merely concerned with the Seven, about their suspicions about Starlight, and how angry he was with the team. You were with your head on the clouds. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would do now that your worst nightmare had become real. You were so disturbed, you didn't even see that appointment go by. It seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, unlike the others that seemed to be an eternity. And then you were finally able to rest. Being Homelander's therapist also brought other burdens: No therapist could maintain consultations with you, because it was too heavy for anyone to hear you talk about Homelander. Until then, you hadn't been able to find anyone who could help you support the weight you carried on your shoulders. You even thought of writing everything you felt in a diary as a way to try to get out and put out what you felt. However, the fear that Homelander might read outweighed everything. That was another point: You felt, at times, that you were being followed and observed. The curtains in your house always remained closed, although you knew that if Homelander was really stalking you, curtains would not help. That was enough for you to start developing a little paranoia. But that Saturday had been unlike anything. As usual, you woke up with the feeling of being watched. However, it looked different that time. It was almost as if you were feeling that Homelander was also on the sumptuous penthouse where you lived. Knowing that hiding in any room in the house could be worse, you simply chose to go out with a friend. Your circle of friends didn't recognize you anymore, and they even seemed to be concerned about you. While you and your friend were walking through Central Park, while she was telling some random gossip from someone in your social circle, you couldn't stop looking around. Homelander was there, somewhere, watching you. You were quite sure of that! Night soon came, and that feeling of being watched did not go away. You had the impression that Homelander, when he came to watch you, never stayed that long. His maximum was three hours. But on that Saturday, he seemed to be on your heels all day. You chose to wear your worst pajamas that night, the one that best hid your body, since you never had the feeling of being watched at that time. You were certain that you would not be able to sleep, and you could already feel that your emotions were extremely drained. Trying to act as naturally as you could, you lay down in your King Size bed. You covered yourself with the blankets and turned off the lights. You were lying in a sideways so that you could see the door that went into your corridor. It was like you were waiting to hear Homelander's footsteps there. But then you saw, through the reflection of the mirror, the door to your closet - the only door you were facing away from. You saw the reason for all your dread. The mirror reflected the image of a Homelander with slightly red eyes, watching you through the crack in the door. His uniform pants were slumped under his feet, and despite the low light, you could see what he was doing - explained mainly by the movement of one of his arms. His eyes were on you as he touched himself, and that seemed to be the main reason he didn't notice that you saw him. Your heart sped up, and you had to contain a weeping of fear and the nausea you felt when you noticed that grotesque scene. Tears flooded your face so that your vision was completely blurred, and panic made your entire body stop functioning. Homelander was completely obsessed with you, and that would bring you to complete ruin. You didn't sleep the rest of the night - even when you noticed that Homelander was no longer in the apartment. Still, on Sunday morning, you only managed to get out of bed at seven. You had been crying all night, completely stunned by the surreal situation that had happened. Apathetic, there were no more tears, no energy to cry or be afraid. You were just an empty shell, an inanimate object - the Homelander's favorite one. So you walked slowly to the closet to change clothes. And there was proof that what had happened last night was real. It was everywhere. The pearly liquid present on the door, on the floor, and at some points on the wall proved that he had not touched himself just once that night. You staggered backward, feeling that sudden wave of nausea again. That scene was enough for you to stride to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet while your body tried to expel something through your mouth, without success. Suddenly, you felt your heart racing. Panic enveloped you, and you leaned against the bathroom wall, your breathing as fast as your heart. Sweeping heat shot through your body, and you started to feel sweaty. The air seemed to start to drain from your lungs and you thought you were about to die. And if your time to die had indeed come, fine. Homelander would no longer torment you anymore.

#The boys x Reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys imagine #the boys imagines #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander imagines

[jamaisvuandyou]

Now or Never: Part 2

Description: Based on THIS reaction, for Huening Kai. You break up with your ex when he tells you he doesn’t want to have kids, not knowing that you’re already pregnant. 

Part 1

Posted: 03/29/2021

WARNING: oh all sortz of angst

Angst: 1,801 words

A/N: By popular request (sort of)

“Do you want us to tell him?” Soobin asked, holding your hand.

You stared at the floor. “I don’t know.”

Yeonjun squeezed your other hand. “Well, when you do know, just tell us and we’ll comply.”

“He’s been a lot better, lately,” Soobin said quietly.

You breathed in, but couldn’t seem to breath out. Why did he have to do this to you? If it had been anything else, you probably could have forgiven him, but not when it came to your baby.

He didn’t want it.

He didn’t want her.

“But is that because he doesn’t get information about me, or because he’s actually getting better?” You asked.

They both looked uncertain.

“He asks if you’re okay now and then, usually if he sees Soobin texting. We only confirm that you’re okay. We won’t say anything else, and Beomgyu quickly changes the subject.” Yeonjun sighed. “But I don’t know what would happen if he found out he was having a daughter. It’s something I think we would have to ask his therapist about.”

“At least he doesn’t know where you live, now,” Soobin whispered. “That way if we do accidentally say anything, he can’t come and haunt your doorstep.”

“I do appreciate all that you two have done for me,” You said, shifting your gaze to the ceiling. “I still don’t understand why, though.”

“Because you deserve better,” Yeonjun answered, the same answer as always, with no further explanations. “We should get back soon, are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for coming to the appointment with me.”

“No problem,” Soobin answered, smiling softly. “You’re our friend, y/n.”

“Yeah...our friend,” Yeonjun echoed, but his tone was slightly different. He pet your head for a second--something you really normally didn’t care for but were used to him doing because he did it so often and it was like a nervous tick with him. “We’re here for you. Part of that is because he isn’t. Won’t be. Can’t be. And because...we think you’re in the right in this situation. We’ve made our amends with Kai, we had to, he’s our brother, but we still side with you.”

“Beomgyu and Taehyun, too,” Soobin added. “They just thought it was better if we limited who knew where you were and who talked to you.”

You nodded. You received texts now and then from the other two, especially Beomgyu because he was a talker, but Taehyung usually kept you apprised of how Hyuka was doing with his therapy sessions.

You didn’t want to shut the door completely. You didn’t want to shut the door, and make it so that your daughter never knew her father. But you kept it mostly closed, only open a crack.

The crack that let the other four through, but managed to keep your ex-boyfriend out.

You wouldn’t let him in, not until you felt secure and safe and knew that he was over you. Because lately...you thought about him, and it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like fleeting infatuation.

Lately, you recognized affection differently.

Your therapist was happy with your progress, and your ability to recognize the faults in the relationship you’d had with Huening Kai. The flags that had gone up, that made you know that the relationship wouldn’t have lasted.

She often asked you about Soobin and Yeonjun, but she didn’t say much when you spoke of them, just smiled and said you had a good support system.

You weren’t sure what she was hinting at, but you figured it was something you had to figure out.

The boys hugged you before they left, Soobin reminding you to text him if you needed anything.

Yeonjun hesitated, letting Soobin out ahead of him. “Hey, y/n...if he finds out we were visiting you today...can I at least tell him that the baby is healthy too?”

You nodded. “Don’t tell him it’s a girl, though. I’m not ready for him to have that information.”

He nodded, hugging you again and leaving.

You didn’t think that the mention of your baby would send Huening back over the edge.

But it did.

Beomgyu texted you saying he lost it, and that they were trying to find him again, and their company was taking action as well.

But he showed up at your workplace, and thankfully one of your coworkers knew the situation and saw him before he could find you--helping you explain to your boss and then sneaking you out a back way and into her car.

Yet, he still managed to catch up to you. You had decided to go to a cafe a little ways away from your new apartment, and suddenly he was sitting across from you.

You stared in horror, wondering how he found you. “You can’t be here.”

“I am. Besides, you let my bandmates visit you,” He replied, almost coldly. “And they aren’t even the father of your child.”

“But they respected my wishes, and didn’t lose their mind and stalk me,” You snapped in a whisper. “Go. Away. You’re going to lose your job if you keep acting out like this.”

“You think I care about my job?!”

“I think you should,” You replied quickly, before he could continue. “You lose this job and I promise you will never see this child. Now get out.”

A hand enclosed on Huening’s shoulder before he could reply.

Taehyun glared down at Huening. “Come on.”

Their manager was a foot behind him, looking stern.

“It’s my child, I have every right to know it!” Huening argued.

“Then act in a way fitting for someone with a child, and I’ll think about it,” You snapped. “But every second you defy my wishes makes the chances of you ever meeting this child dwindle into obscurity. So, get out.”

He stared at you. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“I can forgive you, but I can’t forget what you’ve done, and I won’t change my mind. We’re not right for each other, and you know that.”

“But Soobin and Yeonjun-hyung are?” He snapped.

You frowned. “Soobin and Yeonjun are my friends. They’ve been helping me, whereas you’ve only been causing me trouble. You showed up at my work, are you so thoughtless as to threaten my job?”

Taehyun tugged Huening Kai away. “Come on. Both of you are too upset to make any sort of productive conversation, and you have an appointment with your therapist.”

“No I don’t--”

“Yes you do. Manager-nim scheduled it on our way here.” Taehyun gave you an apologetic look and continued dragging Hyuka away.

But you no longer felt guilty about cutting him out. About trying to keep him away.

You scheduled your own appointment, and headed that way when she said she could get you in right away.

“He tracked you down?” She asked gently after you had told her everything that had happened that day. Including the conversation.

You nodded. “I don’t know how.”

“Maybe he followed his bandmates?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” You answered, sighing. “They’re beyond careful.”

“They care about you.”

“And I’m grateful, but...I don’t know how much longer I can rely on them. It’s causing too much trouble. I think...if I’m going to have him out of my life, I need to get rid of all of the things tying him to me.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Do you really want to do that?”

You sighed. “No. They’re really the only friends I have. I’m friendly with some of my coworkers, and you know the one basically adopted me as her work-daughter, so we’re a bit closer. But when I was dating...him...they were the only ones who I could talk to about it. And Soobin and I would talk about baking and we were always...friendly. Which was nice. It was nice being friends with them while dating him. But it’s just going to hurt everyone if I continue being friends with them.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“Before you were dating Huening Kai, what brought you close enough to get to know him?”

You frowned a bit. “What?”

“How did you meet him?”

“They endorse one of the products that the company I work for produces, and I’m part of the marketing division. I was the one who got the deal, so I was there for their shoots. They started talking to me, and we got along well. I became the liaison, so if they ever wanted products, I would be the one to take them over.I’m pretty sure they started ordering one thing now and then just to tease me but then we all just sort of moved toward friendship.” You shrugged.

“Who talked to you the most? Who ordered the most?”

“Soobin ordered the most, he really liked the cookies we make, but it was almost always groups when I would get there. Sometimes it would just be Soobin, Yeonjun, and Huening, other times it would be Beomgyu, Huening, and Taehyun; Soobin, Beomgyu, and Yeonjun...usually three of them waiting for me.”

“Who were you most drawn to, initially?”

“Yeonjun, but mostly because he didn’t talk much around me. Then probably Beomgyu because he did talk to me. Soobin because we had a bit in common.”

She wrote a few things down. “Have you ever considered whether your attraction to Huening Kai was actually misplaced affection for one or more of the other boys?”

“What?” You laughed, a little incredulous, but also...nervous?

“It seems to me like you may have felt affection, but misplaced the affection as belonging to Huening when actually it belonged to someone else in his group. It’s mostly a theory, but there are some inklings that make me think it might be true. I want you to journal about your relationship with each member of the group, see if you find out anything about yourself when you finish.” She wrote it down on a separate paper and handed it over to you. “And then we’ll talk more. I’m not going to say that you handled today’s confrontation perfectly, but there are few that would. I am glad that you called and got in after that confrontation, though, and I think you’re making progress.”

You thanked her, and left.

And you wondered, as you journaled later, how you had managed to start dating Huening Kai, of all the members.

The most logical would actually have been Soobin...but Huening had asked you out. And you said yes. And maybe you got caught up in it so much….

You hugged yourself as you contemplated your difficult relationships with all of the boys, wondering if things would ever settle down. Wondering if you really would have to cut them all out to try and create some semblance of peace.

#tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together fic #yeonjun #soobin #huening kai #taehyun #beomgyu #pregnant!reader #angst

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: cursing, mentions of alcohol, struggling with self-love, emotional self-destructive behavior, and mentions of mental health problems

Chapter 19

Rhylee

“I am so glad that you’re a Muggle-born.” I shifted on my heel, turning away from the mirror to Lyla who was laying in her bed, her head resting on her crossed arms, her eyes on me.

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.” Confusion creased her face. “It’s supposed to be a compliment, right?”

“Yes.” I grinned at her. “If you weren’t Muggle-born, you wouldn’t know about therapy, and the therapist you recommended me might have just saved my life.” By inhaling sharply I turned back to the mirror and stared at my figure.

“It’s been all you, darling. You have to want help to actually gain something from therapy.” I locked my eyes with hers in the mirror.

I loved nothing more than her friendly smile. She was the best friend I could ask for and I am the luckiest person alive for her not to give up on me.

“I know.” I turned around to look at my arse.

“Can you stop checking yourself out in the mirror? The dress looks great on you!” She rolled her eyes at me.

“I don’t know.” I pouted. “Perhaps the blue one would be better.”

“You do realize that we have been doing nothing else but picking your dress for the last two days.” She smirked at me.

“Don’t give me that face! I’m nervous, okay!” I stomped my foot against the floor as if angry.

In reality, I was just hoping to calm down my nerves.

“It’s time to move on, Rhylee. You said it yourself that your therapist said it’s time you forgive yourself.” She stood up and took the blue dress which was hanging over the dresser door and took it off the hanger. “But just in case, try this one again.” She winked.

I appreciated how supportive she was. She was all I had left.

I was such a mess. I still can’t believe that I let myself get so low. I hit rock bottom and then went even deeper. It’s a miracle what 6 months of therapy can do for a person. How do wizards not have that!

Perhaps, they are afraid of the pain that it brings. Because it was painful. Especially the first few sessions when the therapist is getting to know you and you start figuring out what your problem is. I knew what it was. I just couldn’t get over it.

Everybody telling me it was an accident doesn’t just make the guilt disappear. It doesn’t make you feel better. You don’t just forget about it. When you do what I did, you don’t just move on. But as I learned from my sessions, you can’t blame yourself forever either. Forgiveness and loving myself was something that was missing from my life.

It’s crazy to think that so many people around you keep telling you that it wasn’t your fault and that you can’t just go around and search for things that will make you miserable just to punish yourself and you never believe them and always brush it off. But when you hear it from someone specialized to tell you things like this, you suddenly think that maybe, just maybe all your friends were right.

Of course, it didn’t happen overnight and I even tried convincing Dr. Whitmoore that I will never stop blaming myself for what happened in my seventh year at Beauxbatons but I got there…eventually.

“So what are you going to say to him?” Lyla asked as she zipped the dress for me.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I bit my cheek. “I don’t even know if he’ll want to talk to me.”

“Right.” She raised her eyebrows at me and laid back on her bed. “Are we going to go through this again?”

“I’m serious! I’m just going there to celebrate the love between two people.” I finally stopped looking at myself in the mirror.

I still don’t know which dress to pick.

“Mhm.” Lyla nodded once. “Let’s pretend that you have been picking out a dress for this wedding because you want to be there for Bill when he says his ‘I do’ with his future wife.”

“It’s…the main reason.” I proudly lifted my chin.

“Stop lying to yourself, love. This is all about Charlie Weasley.” She sent me a wink, got up, and went to the bathroom.

She was right. It was all about Charlie. There is no point in denying it any further. It has been all about him ever since Bill brought me home to meet his family for Christmas. I still remember the moment we were introduced as if it was yesterday.

He enchanted me the moment I sat down opposite him. With his smile and eyes full of passion about the creatures we both worked with. I know he wasn’t doing it on purpose but he was so flirty. With his eyes, his gestures. I just couldn’t stop staring at him.

And the feeling, the feeling I got while talking to him. I never felt that before and it was so strange. I knew Bill for years and here I was talking to his younger brother and it was as if someone ignited a fire between us. And the strangest part was that I am certain he felt it too.

The second I allowed the feeling to overwhelm me, fill my body with energy like nothing ever did before, my past came back to haunt me. I couldn’t sleep that night. The nightmares came back. Sweat running down my temples. I was glad Ginny was a heavy sleeper, she would think I was insane. Nobody in England knew my secret. It was the reason I ran away.

I buried the feelings, guilt and constant need to punish myself, make myself suffer and got the job at Gringotts. I was doing great for 3 years. I was quite proud of myself. I wasn’t hurting anyone and I didn’t let anyone get too close to me.

I allowed myself a fling here and there and I was happy with the way my life was. I could totally see myself doing this for the rest of my life and I was completely fine with it.

I was lying to everybody including myself when I said I didn’t know Bill fancied me but I ignored it, hoping he would move on if I seemed uninterested. Not that I wouldn’t want to date him. Are you serious, it’s Bill freaking Weasley, who wouldn’t want to date him!

But I made a promise to myself. I couldn’t. I knew what a good guy he was and I couldn’t allow myself to be happy. I didn’t deserve it.

I never expected him to get hurt because of my foolishness. Getting drunk and having sex with Charlie was a big mistake that I shouldn’t have allowed. Not that it wasn’t good, damn it was great and I let myself go and forgot about everything just for one night. Charlie had that effect on me. He made me forget about my worries and my troubles, even if just for a little while.

And how stupid it was of me to flirt with him the morning after and telling him it wasn’t just a one-night stand. What was I thinking! I should’ve just ignored the situation and moved on. But I couldn’t and I hated that I couldn’t. Something was pulling me closer to him. The curiosity of getting to know him better. To hear him talk about dragons. To feel his touch again. His lips against mine. His breath on my skin.

I had zero control over myself and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. Of course, the aftermath was something I didn’t expect. Bill asking me out was the last thing I wanted and then I was stupid enough to tell him I slept with his brother. The look on his face, telling me just how much I hurt him broke my heart.

I broke my promise of not hurting anyone and everything from my past came rushing back up. I didn’t dare to ask Bill if he and Charlie talked about the whole situation. I was even surprised when only a month later Bill started speaking to me again. I definitely thought I didn’t deserve that.

After that, things calmed down again and I hoped that I could put it all behind me again. I bottled everything down before, I can do it again, right?

Wrong.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie and it was driving me mad. Lyla, Lizzie, and I got drunk one night and they teased me and said that I should go work in Romania to be with him. My dumb arse actually wrote an application and we sent it that night. The second I realized what I have done in the morning I applied for the American Sanctuary too to calm the guilty feeling in my chest.

I can’t be trusted when I’m drunk. I relax too much and forget about my past and make mistakes like having sex with Charlie at the Burrow and then my actions hurt people and I feel even worse.

But the second I got the reply, seeing how excited they were to work with me I got so conflicted. They were offering me my dream job but I wanted to stop myself from accepting it because I knew Charlie worked there. I couldn’t face him, not even after more than a year.

However, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling the excitement brought me either. I just had to see him again. I wanted to talk to him and tell him everything. I accepted the job anyway, despite my better judgment. I was selfish, I know that now. I should never have done it, my mind being in a state as it was back then.

I don’t think I was ever so nervous as I was when I was standing in front of the Sanctuary gate. I tried calming myself down by thinking that perhaps I will work in an entirely different section than him and we even won’t see each other.

I couldn’t believe how wrong I was when I saw him approaching the gate. I wanted to apparate away, be swallowed by the ground below me, be fed to a dragon. I knew I made another mistake the second I saw the look on his face.

I know he wasn’t expecting me to stand there, how could he. It pained me to know that he wasn’t exactly happy to see me but at the same time, it gave me confidence. Perhaps, we can work side by side with each other and simply be friends.

The fact that I am never right about these things and usually the opposite happens could already tell me that it was only going to go downhill from there.

I tried staying away from him but I was pushing myself into him just as much. I just couldn’t help myself. In a different life, if I wasn’t as fucked up as I was, we could’ve been so happy together. I knew that and it hurt so much knowing that. What hurt, even more, was the look in his eyes every time we exchanged looks.

I knew how he felt, I knew he was falling for me and it was wrong. It was so wrong and I felt so helpless knowing I can’t do anything about it because I felt the exact same way. I was falling for him so fast that I didn’t even have the time to stop myself and at some point, I simply gave up trying.

The fact that everything that was happening between us was happening while I had a boyfriend waiting patiently for me to visit him once every 14 days made me an even worse person. I never wanted any of it to happen.

I knew I did the right thing finally giving in to all the nagging and going out with Nick. He was the only man I saw a future with because I knew how wrong he was for me but it was exactly what I deserved. An idiot without an ounce of empathy or feelings for anyone else but himself. For me, it was a match made in heaven and I knew that nobody would understand why I thought so.

I knew what I deserved. I wanted to be punished. I wanted bad things to happen to me so I could finally redeem myself for what I have done all those years ago. But nobody understood why I was doing it. Why be with a guy who doesn’t even make you happy instead of someone loving and kind?

Lyla got into so many fights with me over this. Many more than Charlie did. I know he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He caught me crying so many times because of Nick, because of my guilt, because of his gestures that told me just how much he cared for me.

And what did I do? I got drunk and had sex with him. Way to go, Rhylee! Way to break so many hearts, you idiotic bitch!

That night we spent together was the most beautiful night of my life. It showed me how happy I could be with him. How much joy he could bring me. He showed me my future with him and all I could think about was how wrong it was. How I have to run away from everything. What a horrible person I was to do this to him.

There was a moment when I thought about telling him everything but stopped at the last second. Truth be told, there were many moments like this and he knew it. He knew I had so many things I wanted to say to him but simply couldn’t. I was a coward, locked inside a loop of my own mind.

What I did at Beauxbatons was still haunting me at the time. The fact that everybody forgave me haunted me. That I begged the Ministry to send me to Azkaban and they laughed at my plea, telling me that people don’t go to prison for making a simple mistake.

That’s what they called it. A simple mistake.

A simple mistake that almost ruined my life and because of which I made so many people around me suffer. They just didn’t see it as I did and I knew they never would. But did that give me closure? Did that make me stop feeling sorry for myself and move on with my life?

No.

I was determined that if they weren’t going to punish me and lock me up, I will do it to myself. I wanted to completely destroy my life for it and be miserable as much as I can be. I will date a guy I know doesn’t love me and pretend I can’t hear the screaming voice inside my head telling me to be with Charlie because he’s the one.

He has been from the moment we shook hands and started talking about dragons.

I closed all the doors that could bring me happiness. I tried so hard to stay away yet I couldn’t. Yet I hurt him and Bill and even Nick in the process. They all suffered because I wanted to bring pain to myself.

How fucked up is that?

All because I just couldn’t stay away. No matter how destructive my mind was, no matter how much I was telling myself that I don’t deserve someone like Charlie, my body and my heart were guiding me right to him and I didn’t have the strength to stop it.

A few weeks after I told Nick and he told me that I have to stay away from Charlie, something broke in me. I couldn’t do it anymore. I made Charlie so miserable and my heart shattered every time I saw him. The longing in his eyes to save me. To do something to make me feel better.

I was completely aware of the fact that I let myself go. I isolated myself, barely ate anything, and tried to work on Kyan’s case so that I would do one thing right in my fucking pathetic life.

I was naïve to think that would do the trick. That Charlie would finally let me go. Move on. Find a nice girl and settle down with her. Be happy. That’s what he deserved. That’s what I wanted for him, ignoring the fact that I wanted to be his girl more than I wanted anything in my entire life.

But he didn’t. He didn’t want to give up on me.

So I did the only thing I thought would help him move on. I left. I didn’t want to, but I did. The second Nick opened the door, me standing there with all my bags, I knew what a mistake I’ve made.

For the first time in years, I thought that perhaps I suffered enough. Perhaps it was time to stop tormenting myself. I made a decision to stay overnight and then go back to the Sanctuary and beg Peter for my job back.

That night we fought and I suddenly started to feel dizzy and everything turned black. I woke up at St Mungo’s the next day and all my plans to return to Romania fell through when the healers told me I was pregnant.

I knew I couldn’t run now. I sealed my destiny and serves me right for doing so. I brought it on myself and since I was so convinced that I deserve a life full of misery the pregnancy was just perfect. Ironic but perfect.

I didn’t expect Charlie to come to the trial. I hoped he wouldn’t come. I just left without saying goodbye and I thought that would make him mad enough for never wanting to talk to me again. But there he was and he stopped me from fleeing.

He kept pressuring me to tell him the truth. I hated how well he could read me. How well he knew I was lying and yet I fed him more lies. I already knew the pain that he must’ve felt at that moment. How confused he must’ve been for me just disappearing, for acting like I don’t care about him.

I know he needed answers and Merlin knows he deserved them more than anyone but I couldn’t. I needed him to move on. It was too late for the whole truth. It wouldn’t have done either of us any good. I was carrying Nick’s baby and there was nothing he could do about that.

If I wasn’t pregnant I know I would’ve told him everything. I wanted to return to the Sanctuary for him for fuck’s sake. But it was too late now and he needed to know that so I told him about the baby. Just reminiscing on it makes me want to throw up. The pain in his eyes when he was trying to comprehend what came out of my mouth.

The painful goodbye when he wished for me to have a good life, knowing full well that it’s probably the last time he will ever hold me in his arms. It was good closure in a fucked up kind of way. If someone with so many mental issues wrote a fairytale I am certain it would make perfect sense.

I was fighting every muscle in my body not to go after him once he started to walk away. I knew that was it. He finally did it. He is going to move on and be happy. I regretted putting him through what I did, I still do. But at least he will be able to forget about me by hating me. It was for the best.

He deserves so much better than me. Someone who will love him unconditionally and bring a smile to his face and flutter the butterflies in his stomach not put him through the shit I put him through.

I finally got what I wanted. The punishment I thought I deserved. All my self-destructive behavior finally paid off. I was pregnant and living with a man that I despised. Welcome to my bloody fairytale!

If it wasn’t for Lyla, being the best friend she is, I would probably do much worse than hurt myself mentally. She was the one that opened my eyes and got me a therapist without even asking about my opinion.

After my first session, I decided to tell her everything. What I did, what Dr. Whitmoore and I talked about. Everything. We cried, sitting on her bed for hours. She couldn’t believe I hated myself so much to do these things to myself but in the end, she told me she understood why I tried so desperately to punish myself.

I felt relief knowing she understood and still wanted to be my friend. I was so lucky to have her. I don’t even want to think where I would be if it wasn’t for her.

A/N: I know that what Rhylee is dealing with can't be solved with 6 months worth of therapy as is stated in the story. I needed to fit it in the timeline to align everything with Bill's wedding and is the only reason why I picked 6 months. One of my best friends has a Ph.D. in psychotherapy and she told me that with everything Rhylee has been through (to be revealed in tomorrow's chapter) it is very unrealistic that she would be as fine as I wrote her to be - I am fully aware of that. I apologize if I made anyone uncomfortable with it or if anyone finds it offensive in any way.

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

[trillian-anders]

therapy

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, fluff, mental illness, eventual smut && SPOILERS 

word count: 16k 

description: part 4 of 5. SPOILERS; DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM -- ransom’s therapy sessions during the assitant && four christmases and a little bit beyond.

note: so this took me forever and i was originally going to write couples therapy at the end, but it just didn’t flow as nicely. i’m probably only going to write one more part for this, but i hope you guys enjoy it. honestly. i’m writing this for you. 

session #1

“Court mandated therapy,” He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “What a fucking joke.” He looked across the dining table at you, noticing how you were growing impatient. This whole situation, you moving in and encroaching on his bachelor pad, the house arrest, was fucking annoying. And now therapy. Your jaw twitched in annoyance, a tell tale sign he knew well.

“You’re getting off easy,” you would remind him, “I’m taking your punishment after all.” Taking his punishment, sure, and getting paid almost 210k a year to do it. There’s no sympathy there. You’re getting your money and his life goes on, almost, as normal. 

To be fair he was pretty fond of you. You were the only consistent thing in his life for the past two years as much as he’d hate to admit it, nothing would get done if you weren’t around. Not a damn thing. He’d never tell you that though. Especially not now when you’re rearranging his unused study for use of him and the therapist who would be arriving soon, setting out water, a couple snacks, and optimistically tissues.

“Just in case.” You told him. Ransom doesn’t cry. He remembers the last time he really cried, like really cried and it was when he was a kid. His father had laid into him for playing with his novelty golf clubs. Screaming, red faced, spittle landed on his own hot cheeks. 

He shook his head to rid himself of the memory. 

“I don’t want to do this.” He sounded like a child, whining. He knew. But to be fair, he really didn’t want to fucking do this. He watched you walk away towards the kitchen to clean up what you’d made for lunch. You’d only lived with him for a week, but it was longer than any other woman had ever stayed with him. 

It was strange. 

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he stared at your ass while you wiped down the counter, catching crumbs. You hated him, he knew. Not completely, which he also knew, but enough that you’d never fuck him. Why would you want to?

He couldn’t resist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you rinse the rag off in the sink. “You can tell them I’m sick, can’t come down.” Muffled into her shoulder. He really sounded like a child now, Mommy please make the bad guy go away, I don’t want to see him.

“This could be really good for you Ransom.” Her damp hands covering yours. “Go get changed, he’ll be here soon.” He was still in his gym clothes, sweat ring dried around his neck. He was sure he smelled pretty foul too, about thirty minutes later and a quick jerk in the shower left him a little more relaxed than before. 

The man was older, bald, glasses. He looked like he just stepped off the screen typecast as a therapist in a psych ward. Tweed. So much tweed. He started a tape recorder, “My name is Henry Dowd.” You had greeted Dr. Dowd with a pleasant smile and shook his hand. Ransom had immediately felt a vein of envy, you’d never smiled at him like that. “I’m fifty-seven years old, I’ve been practicing for just about 25 years now—“

“Fantastic doc,” Ransom sunk back into his chair, “Listen, what do I have to pay you to make you go away?” The Doctor froze, adjusting his glasses before leaning back in his own chair. 

“Do you often use money to eliminate things that make your life uncomfortable?” Of course he did. He immediately thought of you, sitting not more than twenty feet away probably unironically watching Forensic Files on the couch while folding his laundry. 

“I don’t need therapy.” Ransom scoffed, “C’mon.” He smirked at the Doctor, “You don’t wanna make this drive every week just like I don’t wanna sit in this room and whine to you about my problems.” 

“So are you admitting you have problems?” The Doctor asked, fingers meeting his chin. 

Ransom didn’t like this guy. Fuck this guy. Ransom stared at him in silence for a minute.

“What’s your plan here Doc?” Legs spread wide, sunk in the armchair, Ransom mimicked studying the man just as he was studying Ransom. 

“Hopefully we will discuss what in your life led you to murdering someone simply because you weren’t going to get you allowance anymore.” The Doctor was slick. He said it with an air of superiority. 

Fuck this guy. 

“You wanna know?” Ransom asked, sitting up and leaning forward in his seat. “You really wanna know why I murdered her [Fran]?” 

The Doctor’s eyebrow raised.

“She didn’t tuck in the corners of my sheets how I like em.” Ransom smirked. 

The Doctor hummed in response, taking a notepad and scribbling something down. 

“What’re you writing?” Ransom tried to peer at the legal pad in the man’s lap. Dowd lifted it away from his gaze. “This is fucking pointless.”

“Whether you like it or not I’ll be with you for an hour every Thursday for the next 104 weeks.” Dowd smiled, “Whether you take this seriously or not is up to you, but I’m sure someone as intelligent as you knows that you will get as good as you give. The whole reason for me being here is because you have no money, isn’t that correct?” Ransom’s jaw clenched. “So I’m not going to take your bribe, but you can go ahead and try next week if you’d like. Maybe between now and then you can think of something to talk about.” Dowd packed his belongings, shoving the tape recorder in a side pocket of his bag and scribbling once more on his legal pad before storing that too.

“That’s it?” Ransom looked at the clock. It had only been twenty minutes. Dowd smiled at him.

“I’m going to give your babysitter out there some homework for you in preparation for a week from today.” Dowd went to leave the room, “Let her know I’ll take a tea next time.” 

Ransom’s knuckles were white, fisted at his sides, he stood up from the chair a minute later, peeking out into the living room to watch you talk to the Doctor, a soft smile on your face. He wanted to hit him.

He wanted to hit him real fucking bad. 

He watched you gently place a hand on the Doctor’s arm and guide him from the house. “We’ll see you next week!” The door shut and the smile fell from your face, turning to meet his eyes in the doorway of the study. You let out a heavy sigh and rubbed your temples.

“You can’t try and bribe a court mandated therapist Ransom!” There was a fire in your eyes, it made his cock twitch. He had a brief thought about biting your bottom lip, “He can actually help you!” You continued as you approached, walking by him to clean up the snacks and water that went untouched.

“I don’t need help.” He claimed. You gave him a disbelieving look.

“You need help.” He felt his neck flush with anger. 

“Fuck you.” He watched as you walked away from him, not responding. “You need help. What kind of fucking person agrees to take someone’s house arrest huh?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. “You’ve got to have some kind of fucking issues doing something like that.” You’d slammed the tray on the counter, turning to look at him angrily. He was at half mast. 

“Why don’t you go out Ransom?” You seethed, “Go have a drink.” He could feel his face heat up, he’s not going to let you win this. 

“You know what?” He spat, “I think I will. I’m going to take my untethered ass out. Have fun sitting inside these four walls for the next two years you ungrateful bitch.” He could tell you were holding back, but he didn’t wait for the response, grabbing his coat and slamming the door on the way out. 

Later that night, drunk and speech slurring he slammed the body of a girl against your door. Rutting his sloppy hips against her panty clad core. 

He’s not going to let you sleep tonight. 

You didn’t deserve to.

session #8

“We can sit here for the entire hour in silence, just like all the others,” Dowd started, “Or you can choose to talk today.” Ransom wouldn’t meet his eyes. He was still pissed that you’d taken his phone so he couldn’t sit here and stare at it like he had been for the last few weeks. 

“He told me that you’re on your phone the entire time!” You had shouted, “It’s disrespectful.” He’d rolled his eyes heavily, “He’s gonna come back every week whether you do something or not.” You seemed brave. Your started putting your foot down more lately. Ransom wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t like it. 

He was itching to do something else, anything else. The beginning of the manuscript that sat open on the desk behind him and he was pretty pissed he’d been disturbed right when he started chapter six. He found that if he was stopped in the middle of a chapter it was hard to get back into the flow of it, the words pouring from his mind out onto the computer screen faster than he could keep up with. 

It was like being edged.

Ransom was into instant gratification. 

He could hear an old clock he’d taken from his Grandfather’s study ticking on the bookshelf to his left. 

“I see you’ve begun writing.” The Doctor offered, “Have you always thought about writing a novel?” Ransom’s jaw twitched. 

“No.” 

The Doctor gave him a forced smile. “Have you found it enjoyable so far?” This was a waste of time.

“Yes.” 

Scribbling.

“What is your book about?” Ransom smirked.

“Murder.” The Doctor hummed, 

“Following in your Grandfather's footsteps then?” Ransom studied the Doctor for a minute. 

“What did your Grandfather do?” He asked the man. The Doctor tapped his pen against the armrest. 

“He was a traveling salesman.” Dowd humored him. “Much more lucrative business before the internet and the home shopping network.” 

“Didn’t know I’d be good at it.” Ransom admitted gruffly, “You wouldn’t be a good salesman.” Dowd gave him a real smile.

“I would be a terrible salesman.” 

Silence for a few minutes more. The ticking of the clock driving an ice pick into Ransom’s brain. 

“Do you think he would be proud of you?” Dowd asked. “Your Grandfather?” 

Harlan wasn’t proud of anyone but himself.

Linda had built a real estate empire and he still wouldn’t give her the validation of knowing she’d done a good job. His last dying action was letting her know her husband was fucking someone else. What kind of father was that? 

Harlan wouldn’t have cared if Ransom had begun writing before his death. He would have dismissed him. Not even competition. 

Ransom scoffed at the man’s question, not answering. 

“So he wouldn’t?” Ransom felt uncomfortable now. He watched the guy out the corner of his eye lift the tea cup you’d gently placed beside him before they began and raise it to his lips. Ransom had let his guard down. The guy was playing with him. 

“His opinion doesn’t matter to me.” Ransom spat, eyes flickering over to the clock. They still had thirty minutes left. 

“Seems like it does.” The Doc rubbed his fingers together, thinking. “What was Harlan Thrombey like?” Ransom sucked his teeth, 

“Why? You a fan?” He laughed, his hand gestures to the bookshelf beside him. “I got a couple signed copies up there if you want one.” 

The Doc shook his head, “He must have been pretty distant. I’ve heard writers tend to be.” 

“You’re basing your analysis off of rumor?”

“Well, you’re a writer,” he smirked, “You’re plenty distant.” Ransom’s knuckles grew white at his sides, 

“I’m not my Grandfather.” He said.

“No,” Dowd assured him, “You’re not. But we all bear the scars of our own upbringing in one way or another.” The timer went off. 

“Time to go, doc.” Ransom stared at him as though daring him to continue, but he didn’t. He turned the tape recorder off and packed his bag as usual. Ransom didn’t raise to watch him leave, but he heard him through the open door thank you for the tea.

“We have a couple different kinds if you’d like something different next time.” He hated the sound of you being pleasant right now, especially to that man. The fucking prick. 

“No, no. It was perfectly fine thank you.” The door shutting and the quiet ramble of the tv. Ransom shot from his seat, walking to the bar cart he’d had you set up in his room, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and shot it back before pouring four. 

He’d heard you clear your throat from the doorway, coming in to clean up the doctor’s empty teacup and his own untouched coffee. “How was your session?” You asked him. 

He felt heat creep up his neck. “Get out.” 

He could feel your eyes on his back, the rattling of the cups as you gathered them with one hand, your other coming to rest on the middle of his back. 

“Ransom, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He slowly turned, taking a sip of his whiskey and grabbed your arm, the promise of never hurting you again that he’d made after his birthday dinner alerting him somewhere in the back of his mind. 

He attentively grabbed your arm in a soft grip, “Get out.” Whether it was a plea or demand he didn’t know. He held direct eye contact, your face held a flash of fear. Somewhere he would feel guilty about this. He’d released your arm and watched you walk from the room, casting him one more glance before he none to gently slammed the door behind you. 

Later that night he could swear he had alcohol poisoning. An angel had rolled him into his side as he’d vomited. She’d gotten him into bed, she’d even undressed him and was kind enough to leave a glass of water and two aspirin on his night stand. 

It must have been a dream, because his study was spotless the next day and the bottle of whiskey he’d sworn he’d reached the bottom of sat full on his bar cart. He looked over to you for a moment, hand holding the cup of coffee you’d wordlessly prepared for him, before entering his study and shutting the door.

It was your job, why would he be surprised that you’d done it? And why should he thank you?

session #12

“Let's talk about something else today.” Dowd started, “You’re not giving me much headway for your family so let’s talk about something you love talking about.” He gave a playful smirk, “Yourself.” 

Ransom rolled his eyes, cocking his head to the side looking at the Doctor across from him. The door had just shut and the prick was starting straight out the gate. It’s been four months and he hadn’t gotten anything out of this yet, other than being irritated and his monthly liquor consumption increasing exponentially. He’ll humor him. 

“Why not?” Ransom shrugged, sinking into his seat, resting his ankle on his knee. “Whatcha got Doc?”

“What did you like to do before the trial?” He asked, “Give me a day in the life.” Ransom traced his bottom lip with his tongue before starting. 

“I would wake up, go to the gym, come home, eat breakfast, watch some tv, go out with friends.” He shrugged. “The usual.” 

“Do you still have contact with these friends?” No. He didn’t. He jaw locked. 

“No.” The Doctor nodded. 

“So where does Y/N come into this day?” Ransom shifted in his seat. 

“She would work 9 am to 9 pm, Tuesday through Saturday.” He picked a piece of lint off of his pants. 

“And what does she do for you?” What do you not do for him? 

“Cook.” He stated. “Clean.” A smirk pulled across his lips, “Take out the trash.” By trash he meant whatever girl he brought home the night before a joke he loved but you hated,

“They’re real people with real feelings Ransom.” You would tell him.

“Does she do anything else?” Dowd asked. 

Ransom thought about the house arrest bracelet on your ankle, “She’s my assistant, so she does whatever I need her to.” He shrugged. 

“And how does she fit into your day?” Ransom shook his head, 

“She’s just there.” He gently bit the inside of his cheek. “She’s always just there.” The Doctor scribbled something into his notepad. 

“How long has she worked for you now?” 

“A little over two years.” Ransom fingered the handle of his coffee mug before decidedly bringing it up to his lips, he woefully realized that he could go for some whiskey in it. 

Next time, he assured himself. Next time. 

“Does she provide some stability for you?” The coffee mug clanged heavily on the end table next to him. 

“I’ve always had stability.” Lies. 

The Doctor took a sip of his tea, “But surely having companionship on a daily, consistent, basis must give you some comfort seeing as you no longer have contact with your friends.” It was jab wasn’t it. The friends not being there anymore. 

To be fair as soon as Ransom was arrested and the news of the will broke he's not surprisingly had no longer been invited out. His so called friends seemed to be surprisingly absent in his time of need, but he reasoned if it had been any of them in his situation he would have done the same. They all knew they were parasites sucking off of each other, he didn’t need them anyway. He’d found a new source. 

“Why are you making a big deal out of it?” Ransom snapped. “She works for me, that’s that.” The Doctor shrugged, 

“If that’s how you feel.” Ransom scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is.” It wasn’t. 

The two of you had been living together for four months now. He’d seen you wet from the shower. He knew what your perfume smelled like, distinctively. He figured he could pick you out of a crowd by scent alone. Everything you cooked tasted better than any food he’d ever had in his entire life. Sometimes when you were in an especially good mood you made these cookies with caramel in the middle and he’d eat three straight from the oven. Tongue being burned by molten caramel be damned. 

He found himself looking at you sometimes, like really looking at you. Your brows would pull in concentration as you read the pages he gave you. Watching how you always slowly clicked the pen cap, sometimes sticking the pen in your ponytail when you’d get up to go make yourself your second cup of coffee. You always had two. Every morning. 

He found himself not knowing why it mattered so much. Why your opinion mattered so much. His novel was almost finished but he had the feeling if you didn’t like it he would throw it straight into the garbage. Himself with it. 

There was something about it, the contact. You didn’t seem to mind so he began taking different liberties. It’d started with hugs. He cringed at the thought of him sitting in your living room when you still lived in that god awful apartment. The scent of the building a mix of different foods seeping through the walls that almost made him sick. He hadn’t known what possessed him to do it, but pulling you into his lap had been one of the most comforting moments of his life. 

He was touch starved he’d supposed, but it didn’t make much sense. He got plenty of touch from whoever was spreading their thighs for him. He had scratches down his back to prove it. Something was just different. 

He would feel almost high with his arms wrapped around you. God forbid there was skin to skin contact somewhere. He would get lost in it. Hugs turned into thighs pressed against one another on the couch. An arm slung over the back, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers. 

“Do you feel like you’ve always had stability?” The Doctor brought his attention back, Ransom blinked twice as if in a daze. 

“Of course.” He shrugged, “I had routine before all of this. I did the same thing every day and while those things changed, I have a consistent routine now.” The Doctor scribbled.

“Have you always had a routine or is it something that’s developed over time?” Truth he told his routine formed the day you walked through his front door the first time. The constant schedule that you’d laid out for him, right up to you finishing the dishes and leaving at 9 pm on the dot. He would follow you out into his own car and leave for the evening. A bar, a club, a dinner party. 

“Over time.” He’d answered. He looked at the door, as though he could look through it and see you sitting on the sofa playing a game on your tablet, whatever show you were bingeing playing in the background. 

The Doctor hummed. The timer went off. The session was over. 

Tikka Masala. That’s what you’d made for dinner. He’d been smelling it for the last hour sitting in the study still typing, two glasses of whiskey in. Not enough to be drunk but enough to feel it. 

“Are you going to eat here, or the dining room?” His eyes met yours in the doorway, you looked so soft. 

“Here.” He said, not having room for much else as you disappeared from the doorway, reappearing a minute later with a steaming bowl and placing it in front of him. You lay a hand on his shoulder, he found his head tilting to the side to rest against it almost instinctively. 

“How’s it coming along?” You’d stopped asking him about the therapy sessions. He thinks he probably scared you the last time you asked but that was just fine with him. He didn’t want to talk about it.

 Any of it.

“I’m gonna have another chapter for you to read in an hour or so.” He brought a steaming forkful to his lips.

“It’s hot.” But too late, in his mouth, trying to rapidly cool it like an idiot, but fuck if it wasn’t delicious. He saw you roll your eyes at him and he turned to watch you leave. He’d found a small joy in seeing your ass in yoga pants. A skirt. Jeans. Sweats. Whatever you’d decided to wear around the house. His dick stiffened at the thought of grabbing it.

But he was a little tipsy. And he was getting tired. 

He just wanted to finish the fucking book already.

 session #26

Ransom was not having a good day today. He’d stubbed his toe getting out of bed, his cursing woke up the redhead who was still tangled in his sheets. She tried to pull him back into bed which caused him to yell at her. So she cried and angrily threw her clothes on cursing him all the way out the door. He got to the gym and realized he’d forgotten his AirPods and had to do his workout without music. Then to top it all off someone had the audacity to have all of this happen on a Thursday. Fucking court-mandated therapy day.

He irritatingly wondered what color tweed Dr. Dowd would be wearing today. The fucking loser. His wife probably cucks him. He’s probably got a fucking micro. The lunatic. 

Ransom was seething. He’d already snapped on you twice, but to be fair you’d made him eggs when he wasn’t in the mood for eggs and then you were really calm about making him oatmeal. Too fucking calm. What was your problem? Jaw locked as he paced his bedroom. He wasn’t coming down. He wasn’t doing a session. He didn’t fucking want to. And no one could make him. 

He was wearing a hole in the carpet when you’d knocked. His anger flaring. Why couldn’t you just leave him alone? Why did you always have to be right there no matter where he went? He wretched the door open, “What?” He felt crazy. Maybe he was. 

You were staring at him with what looked like vague fear in your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself defensively. “Dr. Dowd is downstairs.” 

“I’m not coming down.” You sighed heavily, looking down the hall at the stairwell. 

“Ransom you have-” Door slammed he stared at the other side of it. 

“I don’t have to do shit.” He screamed, locking the door and sitting on the floor in front of it. He felt like a child. His anger while still bubbling in his chest, was slowly ebbing away to a simmer. He felt like an idiot. He heard your footsteps disappear down the hall. Now he was fighting with his pride. He lay back against the floor, two vertebrae cracking as he stretched it out, staring at the ceiling. 

It was silent for a minute. Then two. Then three. His breaths evening out as he lay on the rug, he could almost imagine himself sinking into the rug, becoming part of the stitching. His body dissolving into nothing. Was this depression?

Ransom would swear he’s never been depressed a day in his life. He has everything he could ever want. Including his freedom. He’s always had nice clothes, nice cars, there was never a lack of sex or money. If he wanted something it was his. So why did he feel so shitty? Right now in this moment. He’s never stopped to think about it before he figures. 

Never stopped or tried to feel anything. 

And right now as he was imagining himself decomposing into the floor he reasoned it must be because of depression. 

“A lot of people get depressed, Ransom.” You’d explained to him once, “There’s no shame in it.” He’d been having a bad day, but those days just happen. He had scoffed at you for even assuming he was depressed, but right now he thinks you’re probably right. 

There’s something wrong with him. 

His book had just been published and it was doing well. Selling really well. He made the bestseller list this week. So there was really no reason for him to be feeling like such garbage right now. It was the only logical explanation, being depressed.

At least then he had something to blame it on.

Another gentle knock, “Ransom.” You voice called to him, breaking him from his reverie. “Dr. Dowd would like to come up and talk to you, is that okay?” Your voice was various, a little guilt formed in his chest. His voice cracked when he replied, 

“Yes.” His face felt hot and the room felt stuffy. You had kept the windows open with the nice weather you’d been having lately. Airing out the house, a candle always burning with a calming scent. Ransom regrets telling you not to open his windows. He wanted to open them, but found himself unable to move from the carpet. 

“How are you feeling today Hugh?” The Doctor’s voice came from the other side of the door. Ransom heard your soft footsteps retreating, the third step down the stairs creaking as you made your descent. Ransom’s heart began to steadily raise in pace. 

“Just great Doc,” He bit, “Can’t you tell?” 

“Are you feeling the need to harm yourself or others?” He asked, suddenly very serious. Ransom thought for a moment. Who would he hurt? You? No. Definitely not. Himself? He’s too vain for that.

“No.” His voice cracked again, why does it keep doing that? “No harm to myself or others.” The other side of the door was quiet for a moment more before the Doctor spoke again,

“Are you comfortable right now?” 

“Yes.” Laying on the floor felt great on his back truthfully.

“Emotionally.” What is that supposed to mean? The turmoil churning in his gut screamed at him. Playing dumb won’t help him here. “What happened today that you won’t meet me downstairs? You haven’t missed a session yet.” 

Ransom shook his head wordlessly. He’d been fighting the Doctor. Every week, skating around questions, not answering them all together. He felt an urge to let it go. To just spill everything that was churning around in his gut. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

Maybe a little.

“It’s just a bad day.” That was enough. It should be.

“What happened?” There was a creak on the other side of the door. A settling sound. 

Ransom explained. His morning was just frustrating. One thing compounded on another causing his whole routine to be thrown off. 

His routine.

“Is it possible that all of this frustration and anger have come out due to your routine being interrupted.” Yes.

“Probably.” Yes.

Silence, then the doctor spoke, “You can’t change the world around you, Hugh. You have no control. You will never have control.” Something was tight in Ransom’s chest. Fists clenched. “The only thing you can control is how you react to the world.” Hands relaxed, he felt his eyes prickle. 

What the fuck is wrong with him? He shook his head. He felt out of control. He was completely out of control. He hated this. But maybe the Doc knew what he was talking about. Maybe this explains the disruption he’s felt. The anger that had ebbed away to a dull ache in his heart. 

“Listen, Hugh.” The Doctor spoke kindly from the other side of the door, “Routine is good for you, it’s good for everyone. It’s beneficial for us to stick to our routines, however, if something happens that we can’t control it doesn’t mean the whole day is ruined.” The fan spun idly on the ceiling, Ransom dazed looking at the steady rotations as Dowd continued, “Get off the floor and move on.” His eyes dragged from the fan to stare at the door. “Get on with your day and try to do better next time because that’s all we can really do, try to do better.” 

His hand met the knob and turned, shifting up to his feet as he met the sight of the older man on the other side who was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Ransom stared at him silently for a minute before opening his mouth to ask, “How?”

session #31

It was just there. Your wrist, open to him. And he wanted to kiss it, so he did. You’d stalled above him, hand still hovering where you’d just placed his cup of coffee next to him on his desk. He did it almost without thinking, gently wrapping his hand around your forearm and bringing your wrist to his lips, “Thank you.” He’d murmured, eyes not leaving the screen.

His second book has become much harder to write. He’d started three books. A couple chapters written for each, a path split. Where would he go? He was unsure. But the coffee you’d placed next to him that was made exactly how he likes it, it helped. A lot. 

After the soft kiss placed on your wrist, the one that he’d not realized he’d even done until it was over, you’d gently rubbed his back for a moment before leaving, “Dowd will be here in about an hour if you need anything.” Your soft voice as you left. He’d wished you would have sat down for a bit, but he knows you have your own routine to follow. 

“Describe your Mother to me.” Ransom scoffed, chest tight. 

“Getting right to it.” He joked, Dowd smiled and nodded,

“We’ve been meeting for about eight months now and you’ve yet to talk about her.” Had it really been 8 months? Ransom’s palms suddenly felt very sweaty.

“She’s…” Ransom shrugged, eyes drifting to stare at something, anything else but meeting Dowd’s eyes. “She’s a Real estate Broker. She owns a company that is fairly successful. She’s recently divorced my Father for his infidelity—“

“Hugh, what about you?” Dowd asked, “How was she when you were a child?” Ransom hated this. He didn’t want to do it. Why did it matter?

“She was busy.” He said simply. “Always working, on the phone, both her and my Father.” Why did it matter? Dowd nodded, scribbling.

“Do you have some good memories of her?” Ransom didn’t. He knew his Mom loved him. He was her only child. There were pictures, her holding him when he was a baby, red faced and mucus covered in birth. His first birthday, she was sitting on the floor in the background, Ransom in the foreground standing, smiling with a ball in his pudgy baby hands. A picture of them in front of Niagara Falls when he was three. But none of that he can remember. Not really.

What he can remember is his first Nanny. A blonde named Samantha. She was young and sweet. She used to make him pancakes with blueberries in them. He wonders now if she left because of his prowling Father. 

A different nanny, older had taken her place. He couldn’t remember her name but he could remember, vaguely, the crack of a ruler on his knuckles. His Mother had flipped her kid when she came home and seen them. Knuckles ripped open and clotted. 

She’d given him a Nintendo 64 for that. It still sits upstairs in the bedroom you now occupied. He thought and he thought hard before replying, “No.”

He’d felt cheap. “Every good memory of her involves money in some way.” He stated plainly. The Doctor had told him instances of money bought happiness didn’t count. Ransom had always been rich of course, money as a substitute for the love of his Mother, Dowd explained. He wondered if his Mother paying you to take his house arrest was an apology for his parent’s quick divorce. As if he even cared. 

“It’s okay to be hurt by her,” Dowd started, “She didn’t provide the love and affection a Mother should. Children need nurturing to form themselves as they mature into adults. The lack of nurturing in no doubt has affected you in some way.” Ransom felt uneasy. He didn’t like talking about this. But Dowd has told him time and time again, he’s not going to like talking about anything. Just try.

Ransom tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, looking at the empty coffee cup beside him. 

“Do you think that maybe,” Dowd started, “You saw money as love and when that money was being taken from you then you realized that you’d have nothing left?” The Doctor rubbed his own chin. “Murder seemed like the only viable option?” 

A chill ran down Ransom’s spine. A shake of the head. “I can’t do this today.” Dowd nodded.

“Okay,” he shifted in his seat, “What is Y/N making for dinner tonight?” This was how they had been cooling down. Every session since the one where Ransom has broken on the floor of his bedroom. A weekly distraction, bringing him back down from reaching his threshold. His hard limit. A little farther every week. 

“I think she’s making—“ Ransom shrugged, “I mentioned wanting chicken parm, so that’s probably what she’s making.” That’s all he did. He would mention craving something and you would make it. The ingredients ordered through the local grocery store’s delivery app. You kept him happy and fed. His pants felt a little tighter around the waist recently. He’d have to work harder at the gym it seems. 

Dowd nodded, “Sounds good.” He looked at the door that separated them from you. “She’s a sweet girl.” Ransom looked at the door as well,

“Yeah, she is.” The two sat in silence for a moment. The clock ticking. Ransom felt uncomfortable. Which wasn’t a new sensation in these conversations. He felt this sense of foreboding on Thursdays. Not that he didn’t when the sessions first started, but now that he’s actually talking in them acid was rolling in his gut on Wednesday night. The turmoil drowned in vodka sodas and a girl he thinks was named Bethany sucking his dick in the kitchen last night. His mind blissfully blank as she swallowed his cum. Her giggling mouth as her tangy lips met his. 

His cock twitched at the thought, thinking about where he’s going to go tonight. Thinking about the girl he’d be bringing back here. The anger in your eyes tomorrow morning as you hand him his coffee after the gym, bitching about throwing the girl out and not so subtlety telling him that he’s an asshole. He really liked that. Your cheeks flushed. Eyes in a steady glare. 

It’s what he deserved, he reasoned. 

He wanted you to hate him. Because you should.

session #52

“Ransom.” Your gentle voice called to him, your back was facing him, chopping something by the stove. 

“Yeah?” He called back, watching your arm move up and down, knife chopping steady against the butcher block cutting board. 

“Something strange happened today, and,” You paused, huffing quietly. He watched your back tense, “There’s a letter on the table.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to open his mail. You sorted through it daily and it was something, frankly, he couldn’t be bothered with. He only wanted mail deemed important, didn’t care much for any Christmas cards or invitations to parties. Not that much came anymore. 

The envelope sat ominous in the dining table. The top slit open in a straight line, white paper peeking from within. He picked it up, no return address. It reminded him of one thing and one thing only. 

I know what you did.

He felt his neck grow hot, the chopping had stopped from behind him. What kind of joke was this? It had been a little over a year since his verdict. A little over a year since he…

He swallowed heavily, opening the letter, the bold black marker bleeding through the page.

You took her from us and you got away with it. You sick bastard. I hope you burn in hell. 

And that was all of it. He carefully folded the paper back up, slipping it inside the envelope. The house was silent. No chopping. His hands braced on the back of the dining chair, he turns his head to look at you. You’re standing there in anticipation. For what?

Maybe he’ll scream. Shout. Bellow with anger so loud that the neighbor, closest one half a mile away, could hear him. Maybe he’ll break something. The four glass jugs that used to be five until he used one to commit arson. Maybe he’ll pull glasses out of the cabinets and shatter them on the ground by your feet. Maybe he’ll just collapse on the floor right here and cry. 

For once in his entire pitiful life, a strange feeling brewed in his gut. A sick feeling he couldn’t place. Later on in the session, Dowd would tell him it’s guilt. But right now as he places the letter back down on the table, he walks to the downstairs bathroom and shuts the door before turning the sink on full blast and emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He grips the porcelain sides, coughing and sputtering. Eyes only watering from vomiting he’s sure as a choked sob echoes in the bowl. He spits, and spits again. Bare knees cold against the tile he stares at his vomit for a moment, before flushing the toilet and watching it disappear. The sick feeling is still there but he’s left with nothing but bile. 

He stands, taking two stumbling steps to the sink and washing his face. Swishing around some mouthwash as he stares blankly at himself in the mirror. He knows another feeling. He knows this one. Disgust.

Self-loathing.

His knuckles gripping the sink and white. If he were any stronger it would have shattered under his grip. 

He was in a state down with himself. Daring himself to move. Do anything. Move. 

You pathetic piece of shit. You fucking baby. You really couldn’t do anything for yourself could you? So fucking scared and worthless that you had to try to fucking kill someone to keep some fucking money? And you were fucking stupid because you got caught. You were so fucking selfish because you killed her so you wouldn’t get caught. 

You selfish bastard. 

You worthless piece of shit. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this. You should be where she is now. Rotting in a fucking grave. Maggots feasting on your flesh.

You did this. 

His reflection looked pale. He felt sick again but all he did was dry heave. This was the worst feeling he’d ever felt in his life and he didn’t know what to do. 

A gentle knock on the door. 

“Ransom,” Your soft voice, “I have some ginger ale, it’ll help your stomach.” He hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. He unlocked the door, stepping from the bathroom. Suddenly tired. The glass was gently handed to him and he took a small sip. Eyes not meeting yours. 

“I need to lay down for a bit.” A mumbled sentence. You nodded. Gentle hands grasped his biceps, rubbing soothingly as his head found your shoulder. Arms wrapping around each other you both stood there for a moment. Not saying anything. 

He didn’t deserve you. 

He knows that now. 

“Has the family tried to contact you before?” Dowd asked later on that day. 

Ransom felt unwell. He hated this. “No.” He shrugged. He must have been a sight. Still in his gym shorts and sweat stained t shirt. He was sunk down into his chair, hand covering his mouth, eyes blankly staring at a spot somewhere in the room past Dowd. 

“So why suddenly do you feel this way?” Dowd asked, “You’ve not brought it up the entire year we’ve been talking.” A year since he murdered Fran. A whole year. 

“I just haven’t thought about it.” He said. Why would he want to think about it? Dowd hummed, scribbling on his legal pad.

“They’re never going to be okay,” Dowd started, “They lost a daughter, a sister. Someone they can never get back.” Ransom was sure that made sense, the loss of someone you love. But he didn’t love anyone. Only himself.

His heart panged.

He couldn’t reason at the time because if any of his family members died it wouldn’t make a difference. 

“What if someone had done the same to Y/N.” Ransom’s heart stopped, eyes finally looking at the doctor’s. “If she was working for someone else and they murdered her to cover up a scheme that wasn’t even successful in the first place.” Ransom’s neck grew hot. His hand at his side clenched in a fist. 

“I would be angry.” He reasoned. Dowd nodded.

“That’s what they’re feeling right now.” He explained. “They’re angry because you took her away from them.” 

Ransom’s throat felt like it was closing up. What was he supposed to do. He couldn’t change anything. He couldn’t go back.

“It’s a good thing,” Dowd assured him, “That you’re feeling this way.” Ransom felt sick. “This guilt, the remorse you’re feeling. You’ve come a long way in the last year Hugh.” Tears pricked at the corners of Ransom’s eyes. He willed them to stay put. “You can’t change what you’ve done. You’ve murdered someone, you took a life, for what was no reason. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your days, but you can try to do something for them. Anything. Nothing will ever make up for it, but you can try.” 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to sink into his sheets and disappear. Maybe he could convince you to leave him there until he just wasted away. That sounds nice right now. 

It was for no reason. Fran’s death. He could have just paid her off and gotten rid of her. There was no real proof that he’d done anything. The toxicology reports came back clean. His little switching of the bottle trick did nothing. Harlan skit his own throat. 

Marta deserved the money. 

He saw that now. And it didn’t matter if he’d been cut off or not because now he had his own money and his bank account was acquiring more every day. 

So what was it all for?

It seemed so important at the time. He needed to do this. He had to. He needed the money. More than anything in the world. He was so focused on the one object before him. Tunnel vision. He didn’t see the details around the edges. 

He couldn’t see the big picture.

What a selfish baby. A fucking coward.

This self loathing was all consuming.

He hadn’t left his bed in two days since the session. Since the letter. He knows you’re concerned. You check on him every once in a while. You trade out his picked at food and bring him fresh glasses of water. You’ve rubbed his back a couple times until he’s shrugged you off.

“Leave me alone.” Biting. He doesn’t mean it but he couldn’t stop it from coming out. 

He was angry. Depressed. He didn’t know what to do. What can you possibly do? 

It was snowing. The chill permeating from the glass. Contemporary floor to ceiling windows meant cold. It was falling in thick sheets, almost a foot overnight. And he was just staring at it fall. He’d been staring at it fall all night. 

A clinking of a tray. The gentle click of the door closing, you rounded the bed, placing down a cup of coffee and some toast, removing the dishes from the end table. 

“Ransom.” You whispered, brushing his greasy hair off his forehead. “You’re gonna finish this coffee, eat this toast, and take a shower before you come downstairs.” Your tone was authoritative. “You smell like shit.”

You sat there for a moment longer. He could feel you staring at him. He parted his chapped lips, “I killed her.” A whisper in a quiet room. His eyes red and blankly watching the snow fall. Voice raspy. “For nothing.” 

“Yeah,” Your voice soft and sad, “You did.”

He wrote a letter. Put in a clause on the contract of his next book. Nothing would make it right, but he apologized. And Fran’s family was going to get a percentage of royalties from here on out. 

He still felt sick. 

session #67

He doesn’t remember what it feels like not to be hungover. The self loathing was drowned out with alcohol. It was the only thing he knew to do. The bottom of a bottle felt very comforting until the next morning when his sticky eyes couldn’t pry themselves open. The sick rolling in his stomach as he untangled himself from the mess of limbs. A sweat slick body in his sheets. A girl he couldn’t recognize. Sleepy, stumbling, hand coming down to unstick his balls from his thigh as he found the light switch. 

Wincing and collapsing in front of the toilet to empty his stomach. Dizzy with it. Head spinning. He blindly reached for the clean blue towels you had placed next to the sink. Wiping his mouth and pulling himself up to brush his teeth, drinking water bent over, slurping loudly from the tap. There was a gentle relief to his body, like finally some water. 

He shuffled back into the room, not casting a passing glance at the woman still asleep in his bed and he dressed to leave. He’ll go sweat this out in the sauna and she’ll be removed by the time he gets back. 

He didn’t deserve you. 

You should just leave. 

He wants you to leave. He wants to be alone. Forever. It’s why he tries to make your job as hard as he possibly can. Never ending guilt churning in his stomach. The sickness sweats out in the sauna and when he pulls back up to the house the only car that sits in the driveway is yours, unused. 

You’re humming when he enters the house and his cock twitches at the sight. It had just begun getting warmer outside. You’d ditched your cozy cardigans and wool socks for sundresses and tank tops. The appreciation shows. He adjusts himself in his shorts as he passes you, the knowing hand wordlessly giving him a cup of coffee made exactly how he likes it. He appreciates you. The comfort he’d not felt with anyone else. 

He had a roommate in college. 

A guy he had been friends with up until the trial. Another rich boy. Just like him. His name was Jeremy. 

Ransom hated living with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, he just liked his own space. Heading off to college he thought his parents would splurge for a private apartment. He remembered being so angry when the three of them arrived and he found out that they booked him on campus housing with another fucking kid. Furious. He didn’t talk to his parents for the first half of the semester. Not until they withheld his money and forced him to contact them. 

This was intimacy. 

He’d read that in a book. Dowd had recommended some to him. At first he’d scoffed about ‘self-help’ books, but Dowd convinced him that he’s the only person that could really help himself in the end. It didn’t help that Dowd had handed you the list and you’d bought all of them. You’d been reading them too. A quiet understanding that Ransom’s pride was still fragile and neither of you would talk about what you’d read, but just knowing that you’ve both read the same words. You’ve learned the same things. 

Whether you put them into practice or not was another story. 

But he knew this was intimacy. 

It didn’t have to be romantic intimacy. There was a familiar soft intimacy. Just from knowing each other. Truth be told you were the longest relationship he’d ever had. Even if it was just a boss/employee… but sort of friend relationship. You knew him. You really knew him. More than even his own parents. You knew when he wanted to be touched and when he wanted to be left alone. You knew his routine and every variation of it. You knew what he liked to eat. You anticipated each and every one of his needs. 

And he didn’t deserve it. 

You were too good for him. 

That was in all of his thoughts. 

Every time you handed him a cup of coffee. Even a second cup when mentally he had been debating having a second. You’d bake cookies or brownies or these cinnamon buns just when his sweet tooth was really kicking in. You knew every craving. He swears you could even sense when he was getting sick. An extra order of tissues, ginger ale, and cough drops delivered to the house a day before he’d even started coughing. 

He should treat you better. 

That’s what he thinks while he fucks his fist in the shower. Hand slapped against the tile, soft groans as he thrusts his hips into his soaped up hand, thinking about how all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink. 

He imagines it, your perfect ass, panties pulled to the side. 

As he cums he can’t help but feel the emptiness he feels every night. The vacancy of emotion that leaves his mind void and desolate. 

He writes three chapters that day. 

“How do you feel about medication?” Dowd asks. The room is quiet. It’s been very quiet this session, Ransom wasn’t feeling very talkative lately. 

“I’m not fucking crazy.” He scoffed. Dowd shook his head, 

“No, but you’re depressed.” Dowd explained. “Medication will help with your moods, make you more level.” Ransom nodded, sighing heavily. “The guilt may never go away Hugh, you have to learn to live with it. You’ve taken responsibility for your actions.” Ransom rolled his eyes, partially. 

“There’s more work to do.” The Doctor explained. “It’s not going to miraculously fix itself overnight, but medication will at least make it a little easier to go throughout your day. Might help you rely less heavily on drinking too.” He knew. Of course he knew. Ransom wondered if Dowd could smell the alcohol still in his sweat. Did he know Ransom popped four ibuprofen right before the session? Did he know that he washed it down by taking a pull of whiskey straight from the bottle? 

You knew.

But did Dowd?

“I’m proud of you.” That caused Ransom to look up from his own lap to look at the old man sitting across from him. “You’ve come a long way since we first started.” Ransom shook his head. 

“I feel worse.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve made a breakthrough.” He explained, “The guilt, remorse, you’re feeling is a good thing. Even if you hate it.” 

“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.” Ransom whispered. He picked at the sweats he was wearing. 

“It’s not going to,” Dowd assured him, “Not for a while, but the fact that you even feel guilty means you’ve come a long way from being the self-centered narcissist you were when we met.” Ransom chuckled,

“I’m still a narcissist.” 

The Doc started him on an antidepressant and a mood stabilizer. The two pills waited for him with his morning coffee from that day forward. 

session #74

“You look like you’re having a good day.” Dowd smiled. Ransom was having a good day. He hadn’t drank a lot last night, had pretty descent sex with a pretty red head twice, you’d made him his favorite breakfast and had baked those really good caramel cookies he loved. You were in a good mood, so he was in a good mood. 

His mind drifts back to you singing softly as you pulled the cookies from the oven, he was trying to be nonchalant standing off to the side, stealing a cookie as you set the baking sheet on top of the stove, ripping it open, molten caramel burning the tips of his fingers as he shoved the sweet morsel into his mouth. Tongue scorched but worth it. 

The quiet hum as you rinse the bowl of cookie dough, his fingers finding your waist, pulling you against his chest as the soft rambling of music played in the background. The two of you rocked from side to side. The endorphins of skin to skin. The chemicals that flood his system giving him comfort. 

He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it. 

He wanted it so badly. 

So he just took it. Your soft hands covering his as some acoustic version of a pop song played over the wireless speaker in the kitchen. Cheek pressed to yours, ever aware of your ass nestled softly against his hips. Innocently. So innocently. 

The light was soft through the windows and Ransom tried desperately to commit this to memory. The way it shines through your hair, the way it makes your skin glow. Your hands are so soft. So soft. He could almost taste it on his lips. Your skin. 

“Thank you for the cookies baby.” A whisper. You allowed it, him calling you baby. A soft sweet pet name for someone he didn’t deserve. 

“You’re welcome.” He had brought the plate of them in here, in the session. 

“I’m doing alright,” He breathes, breaking another cookie open, letting the strings of caramel wrap around each other as he shoved half a cookie in his mouth. “The meds are finally working, so…” He shrugs, “I’m not feeling quite as down.” There were still bad days, but this wasn’t one of them. 

“Can we talk about something hard today then?” The Doctor asked, “Is that okay?” Ransom was apprehensive. But… what could it hurt? Only himself. And he still deserved to be hurt so,

“Sure.” A sip of coffee and he settled back into his chair, resting his right ankle resting on his knee. 

“I want to talk to you about your family.” He thought of Harlan with his throat slit and a Mother who contacts him once a month. The last time she called him it lasted, according to his phone records, two minutes and forty-four seconds. A ‘how are you?--good, good--is y/n taking care of you--good,good--gotta go. Bye-bye.’ She resented him and Ransom knew that. She’d told him once, drunk of chardonnay that she never wanted to be a Mother.

It shows.

His Father was just as dismissive.

He thinks about the money clip. One that he was gifted when he turned 18 was a match to his father’s. He waved it around plenty of times. Ransom thinks back to the first Christmas you’d spent with his family. The fear, tears in your eyes as you stood there dumbly holding his registration information for the police who didn’t care after he’d slipped them a couple of Benjamin's each and they were on their way. The wad he had handed you from his own money clip silently begging you not to leave him, hoping you’ll return after your long weekend.  

Please don’t leave me. 

He didn’t say that, but that’s what he meant. 

“I don’t know how real people act.” He says, eyes not meeting the Doctor’s. “The whole family…” Harlan, Will, his parents. “None of them are real people,” Shaking his head. 

“Is Y/N real?” Dowd asks. Ransom nods, looking down at the cookies. A whisper against his ear. Comfort. 

“Yes.” He says. “She is.” 

“Have you learned anything from her in the past… how long have you known each other now?”

“Close to three years now.” Ransom smiled softly, really smiled, “The first year she worked for my Grandfather as a tutor for my cousin, Meg. The past two she’s worked for me.” He thinks about your apartment. The one you lived in with your sister. 

He’d only been there once. 

It felt more like a home and he thinks about how you and your sister acted together. You truly loved one another. The little bickering laced with affection. No fight was ever a real one. Not even when you were yelling at her over the phone, defending him for no real reason. He never understood why someone would say a house is not always a home until he stepped into that apartment. 

Yes, it smelled like the curry your neighbor was cooking and yes, it was for lack of a better word crowded. You would say it’s cozy. The furniture worn and much more comfortable than any he’d ever sat in. The way the two of you just steadily accepted him moodily sitting in the corner, in a chair, as their night went on. Even if your sister kind of hated him. 

You were kind. You were forgiving. You were welcoming. And you’d taught your sister to be that way too. Even if she was a teenager and hated everyone and everything. To be fair he deserved to be hated and he was confused, but grateful that you didn’t hate him yourself. You said you did, but he knows you didn’t mean it. Not really. 

You treated him like he mattered. You believed in him and supported him when he had the idea to write his novel. You picked him up off the ground when he was too drunk to walk. You gave him a shoulder to lean on when he needed a place to lay his head. 

You were compassionate. 

“I don’t deserve anything she does for me.” Ransom whispered into the quiet study. He shook his head, “She’s going to leave me as soon as the house arrest is over.” Dowd shook his head, 

“You’ve done something that is irreversibly wrong.” He stated, “You can never take it back,” Ransom felt the guilt pooling into his stomach. A rain cloud over a sunny day, “The only thing you can do is try every day to do a little better. Put something good into the world. Create something good.”

“Be better.” The Doctor nodded. 

“Be better.” 

session #86

He was trying. Really trying. A stipend from his books goes to Fran’s family. A monthly donation to Planned Parenthood and another towards a local domestic violence nonprofit. It soothed his soul somewhat, but still didn’t feel like enough. He started looking at houses. For you. 

You deserved it. When you left him. When you went back to your normal life. The normal routine. When he was left in his empty house, alone again. Like he wanted. Like he deserved. He was meeting a realtor for lunch tomorrow, but his hobby lately has been browsing house sites looking for a house for you. 

Some were too big, some too small. Some too modern, some too old. 

Nothing really fit you. Not really. 

“Ransom,” You called from the living room, “Are you hungry?” 

A few clicks and his computer screen was back on a word document. You poked your head into the study a minute later, a sandwich, cheese toasted on the bread, melted ham and swiss. A sliced apple and the sweet grapes you’d been craving that he had brought home yesterday and two little cinnamon sugar dusted cookies. A glass of water. 

“Yeah,” He smiled. You placed the dish next to him, peering over his shoulder at the words typed on the page. “Thank you.” Always thank you, always please. Please love me, please care about me, please, please, I’m trying to be a good person. Please see that. A kiss to your wrist, arms wrapped around his shoulders, chin resting there. 

“How’s it going?” You ask. He rubs the bare skin of your arm with his thumb, sighing,

“It’s getting there.” He typed a few more words, flipping through two different word documents. “I’m not sure which story I want to work on, I’m kind of stuck here.” He felt you nod, silently scanning the open page before you before laying a hand over his on the mouse and clicking over to the other one. 

“You’re a little farther on this one I think.” It was a story about a situation similar to his own, yet very different. A woman in it that may or may not be referenced heavily by the woman beside him. By you. Who's to say?  All likeness to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. 

“Do you like this one?” He asked. You had to. Your opinion matters the most. Say the word and he’ll delete the whole thing right now. He felt pathetic. What kind of man was he? Definitely not his father, never his father. 

“I do,” He could feel your grin, “You should finish this one next.” He didn’t know what to do with you. Half of him knew you would never love him, not the way he wanted you to. Those girls he buried himself in every night were proof of that. He started imagining they were you, lusty and breathless. 

He could never do that to you. Ruin yourself with him. He just couldn’t. 

“Thank you for lunch.” Another kiss to your wrist. 

“You already said that,” You laughed, melodic. His heart skipped. “Don’t forget you have therapy later.” How could he?

“I won’t.” A bite into his sandwich and he was back looking at houses. Maybe he could find a fixer upper. Dowd said he needed a hobby, right? 

“What’s on your mind today Hugh?” Dowd was in a good mood. Not that he wasn’t always in a good mood, but today he was in a very good mood. He showed up to the session and very unprofessionally showed you pictures of his newborn grandchild. A little rosy cheeked, baby girl named Ellie. Ransom admired how your eyes softened and lips pulled into a bright smile. He wished you would smile at him like that. 

“I’m gonna buy a house.” Giddy almost. “Fix it up.” He nods, “My hobby right? Work with my hands.” Dowd looked at him skeptically. 

“That’s a lot of work,” He laughed, “Have you ever lifted a hammer?” Ransom shrugged. 

“Can’t be that hard.” It would be… very hard. But he’ll find that out later. “Lots of people do it, right?” Dowd gave a weird grin. 

“Yeah but most of them have had some prior teaching or are professionals.” Ransom’s mouth opened and then closed again, eyes squinting as he thought. Surely he could do it, right? He had to. 

It was penance. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Ransom took a sip of coffee, “I’ve been journalling a bit.” He said, pulling a leather moleskine from the seat cushion. He’s learning to deal with the guilt. The regret. He gets emails about how his contributions have been saving lives, women who need free healthcare, domestic violence victims that have been rehoused thanks to his donations. It doesn’t make it better, he reasons, the murder. 

But it’s penance. 

“Are you almost done?” Dowd asked, “With the second book?” The first book he’d published he had given Dowd a signed copy, he would willingly give him a signed copy of the second one too. 

“Yeah, just about.” He sighed, “A few more chapters.” Dowd nodded. 

“Do you want to talk about the self-loathing you’ve been feeling?” Dowd was perceptive. Ransom knew this, but the question still blindsided him. He wonders if you’ve mentioned anything to the Doctor while scrolling through the 200 pictures and cooing over the newborn in a hundred different outfits. Ransom knows you’ve seen it too. You’re perceptive too. 

“Not really.” Ransom answered honestly. It made Dowd laugh, “I know you say I have to learn to live with it, I have to live with the guilt for murdering Fran, but I don’t know…” He stared at the Doctor, eyes betraying the sadness he felt in his soul. The despair. “How does anyone live like this? How does anyone live after they’ve murdered someone?” The last question was a whisper, eyes glazing over and staring at the floor. 

He should have just gone to jail. He should have been in jail for the rest of his life, but he couldn’t. He didn’t. He’s not. He’s here. Double jeopardy. He could write a book right now on how he killed Fran, how he set up Marta, how he pushed his Grandfather to suicide and you know what would happen? Nothing.

You can’t be tried for a crime you were acquitted from. The jury found him not guilty. Only six people really knew the whole truth. The three detectives, Marta, himself, and you. The three detectives didn’t matter anymore. 

Marta didn’t matter anymore. 

He didn’t matter anymore. 

You never brought it up. The murder. Not unless he brought it up first. It was a hard limit. A line not crossed. You had to forgive him. You just had to. Didn’t you already? Did you hate him? Were you secretly seething with the fact that you had that house arrest bracelet on? Were you really only here for the money? 

He wouldn’t be able to take it, he doesn’t think. 

Maybe he’ll become a recluse. 

Everything is digital now, ordering groceries, maybe he’ll just get a maid to clean up once a week. You can go, take your money and leave him. It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He will survive. 

It’s his penance. 

He watched you make dinner, Dowd’s words ringing in his ears, bouncing from one to the other, “You can’t hate yourself forever for this, nothing you can do will make it right, you’ve become a better person. An empathetic person, just be better. Every day, try and do better.” He thinks you’re beautiful. 

You’d asked him what he wanted to eat and always was his reply of whatever he’d been craving that day, but tonight he said, “Whatever you feel like eating.” So he didn’t know, but it smelled amazing. He’d eat garbage if you put it in front of him. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Some kind of soup. A couple of heated rolls straight from the oven and a green salad, drizzled with a vinaigrette you’d seemed nervous about. 

“I found it on Pinterest.” You had explained, “If you don’t like it--” It was delicious. Everything you made him was delicious. He didn’t care. 

“It’s good.” He said. He meant it. He wondered now, with less than five months left of his sentence, how soon after it was over would you leave him? And would you never want to see him again? Because he doesn’t know if he could handle it. He needs you. 

He really fucking needs you. 

session #95 

The girl came back. The one you had kicked out of his bed while he was gone. He told you he was at the gym, but what he was really doing was checking on the work done on the beautiful dark cherry wood Victorian with wrap around porch he’d recently purchased. He couldn’t fix it up on his own, that was the truth. Dowd was right, but he was working with a contractor and small crew. 

One day a week he would go over there and help them rip out cabinets or tear down walls. Not too many because the house, he reasoned seemed more like something you would like if it wasn’t completely open concept. 

He’d sat there, in the early morning light, watching the sun come through the windows. Dust filtered through the air from where they had sanded the floors, refinishing them. They’ll lay down the stain and seal them today. The windows caught the light perfectly. The sun rose and set over this house beautifully, glowing with natural light. You were going to love it. 

He was sure of it. 

A shout, stumbling in the gravel of the driveway, “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” A laugh drowned in his coffee. 

“What’s on the agenda today Ransom,” He watched you shut the door, irritated with him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” Lies.

You couldn’t quit. 

Not for another nine weeks. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” It’s true. He did. Four more chapters and the book was done. He coffee mug in your hand. An emptiness in his heart with the realization of you leaving. Nine weeks. And you’re gone. 

He threw himself into it. He was going to finish it this week. The frustration he felt, he just wanted to be done with this book. He was over it, but he was so close to finishing. Doesn’t mean he’s not still a liar. 

He needed a fucking break. His head was pounding and you’d come in the office in thin worn out black leggings. When you bent over to pick up the pillow that fell on the floor, he could see the thong you were wearing. His dick was hard. 

A promise, “I’ll kick her out myself.” And he was gone. 

The girl he brought home, she looked a bit like you. Enough like you when she rubbed her ass against his lap that he’d drug her home. Her lips were attached to his neck. He could imagine her as you. Faintly. Almost. 

He felt passive aggressive. He was sort of taking out the anger of not being able to have you on you, not realizing, or not caring? His back met your bedroom door, the girl moaning enthusiastically as her lips trailed down his chest, button down splayed open. Belt clinking and his dick was in her mouth. 

Fuck. Head hitting the door. He whispered your name in his head. 

He wanted you so bad. 

He wanted you so bad. 

He wanted you so fucking bad. 

He pulled the girl off him by her hair. He was going to cum too soon if he thought about it. He could do this.

As he lost himself in her body, bed rocking, hips swinging in a punishing rhythm, the girl’s loud moans drowned out the whisper of your name on his lips. 

You were a sight. Sleepy, red marked paper in front of you. You’d found the chapter’s he’d finished just hours before. The ones he had forgotten to give to you. Your hair was messy and your cozy sweater had fallen from your shoulder. He wanted to press a kiss to the exposed skin, but obviously he couldn’t. 

“What do you think?” He asked. He watched you jump in your seat, hand pressed quickly to your chest. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” You laughed nervously, “It’s good,” You cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” 

“Let me see.” The packet was scribbled over. 

I think he did it, he’s an asshole. 

I don’t like her either. 

Ew, why would anyone ever say that to anyone else?

Add more detail here, I can’t picture it well enough. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, you rolled the chair side to side. It was cute. Endearing. 

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” She wasn’t happy about it. She tried to get him to go another round, but he felt empty. He didn’t want to. You were waiting downstairs after all. 

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” He smiled, he liked that you hated it. It maybe made him think you could be jealous. In some universe. Maybe not this one. 

“I like how much it bothers you,” He answers honestly. 

“It’s annoying,” you snarked back quickly, “Worst way to start my day.” You were being funny. 

“That’s the only reason?” Ransom responds, he leant back in his chair, throwing the packet onto the desk. Please say you want to be with me. Give me permission here. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You scoffed, angry with him. Clearly. You made to walk by him, to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed your arm to stop you, softly. 

“If you want to take their place, just let me know.” A wink, a playful slap on his shoulder and you were gone. 

“Dick.” Reverberated in the office. A playful laugh. 

Therapy today.

He hadn’t slept a whole lot, four hours total. He was tired. And grumpy. 

“She loves you, you know that right?” Dowd said halfway through the session. Ransom was deep in his self-loathing today. Probably from the lack of sleep. 

Definitely not because each day got closer and closer to you leaving him. Definitely not that. 

He shook his head, “She works for me, she gets paid to be nice to me.” Dowd frowned. 

“You can’t really believe that Hugh.” Ransom shook his head, 

“I don’t deserve her.” 

“Men don’t deserve women,” Dowd said, “Period.” He laughs, straightening his tie. “My wife, we’ve been married for thirty years now and I can’t honestly remember life without her in it. She worked to help me get through school and now with my practice I’ve been able to let her do whatever heart desires.” He was smiling fondly, thinking about it. “She’s given me three beautiful daughters, we have a beautiful granddaughter now. A beautiful home, she can’t cook to save her life, but that’s what I’m for… she’s the love of my life, truly.” Ransom looked at the grey old man across from him, the Doctor’s eyes were misty. “She helps me run my practice.” He says, “I would be lost without her and I will work hard to even be close to the man she deserves.” 

“It’s just not meant for me Doc.” Ransom swallowed heavily. “It’s not.” 

He needed to get out of this fucking house. He couldn’t look at you. He got rid of Dowd. A little harshly. He felt bad about it. You looked up at him from the couch.

“I’m going out.” 

Was this love? Yes. He knew he loved you. He’s no a fucking idiot. But you were too good for him. Who forgives a murderer? Who? Why did you have to be like that? So fucking perfect. 

You were. So fucking perfect. This house he was fixing for you, the car he was going to buy you after the next book. You deserved all of it. 

You and your sister will be taken care of. You’ll never want for anything. You were talking about going back to school maybe, once it’s over. You could do that. He’d do anything for you if you’d ask. He’d pay for all of it. Anything. It’s yours. 

How does he resolve this? He doesn’t know. 

The donuts, the latte, and his mouth between your thighs a day later. He doesn’t know how to be a good man, but he’s going to fucking try, and try until he gets it right. Until he makes everything right. For the both of you. 

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” You’re so receptive beneath him. He loves you so much. The only person he’s ever felt this intense affection for. Not even his own parents he’s loved. 

He buries himself between your thighs twice that morning. Panting into your mouth the first time, into your neck the second as he rocks his hips into your tight wet heat from behind. Ass nestled against his hips how he’s always dreamed, teeth biting into his thumb as the two of you lay on your sides. 

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against your neck. His heart racing from his recent orgasm. “I’m sorry.” 

session #104

This was it. The last day. Ransom noticed your ankle looked pale, empty now that the bracelet was gone. He would have to fix that. “What am I gonna do now that the dumb bracelet isn’t taking out my ankle anymore?” He whispered into your ear. The damn think had knocked against his ankle bone multiple times in sleep or during sex, enough to make him wince and comment on it multiple times. 

Your laugh was melodic to his ears. It was just the two of you now. His Mother stopped by with the same man who had placed the damn ankle monitor on you two years prior to remove it. She made a big show about staying for breakfast. 

“So I’m assuming she’ll be moved out by dinner,” She had laughed, “She’s probably sick of you.” Ransom felt a little hurt by that, but his Mother also didn’t know the two of you were now together and ‘moved out by dinner’ was actually going to be him taking you and your sister to dinner and then to your new house that was just finished this morning. 

The two of you shared a look and agreed not to say anything. 

He dried the dishes as you washed. This oddly domestic moment giving him true belief that maybe this could work. He could have it. He could have what other people have and be okay. 

“I love you too.” You’d whispered into his mouth last night. You hadn’t said it back yet, it was the first time. Hands tangled in his hair as you angled his face down. “Please don’t hurt me.” He could never, would never. Not if he could help it. 

He brushed his hip against yours as the soft crooning melody played in the background. After the therapy session today the two of you were going to go pick your sister up early from school and drive down to the harbor. He wanted to take you both to dinner. Somewhere you’d wanted to eat for the past two years. A little hole in the wall Spanish place that had ‘the best ceviche and sopas you’ll ever have’ you’ve been talking about it for two weeks now. 

Things had changed a lot in the past nine weeks. And not just because the two of you began to have sex on a regular basis. The house seemed more calm. There was an ease now, a tension that had left Ransom’s shoulders. You seemed more at ease too from what he could tell. You’d begun showering him with more affection, sweet lingering kisses down his spine before you left the bed, a press of your lips to his as you enter or exit a room. Thumb releasing the tension in his brow when he was too focused on writing, a kiss wishing it away. 

The two of you fell into step as though this was a two year anniversary instead of a two month. 

It was nice.

It was very nice. 

“It’s good to see you happy.” Dowd said. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve come a long way in the last two years.”  Ransom nodded. He felt proud. He did. The guilt still gnawed at him sometimes. But he’d received a letter about a week ago. 

Fran’s Mother. 

Forgiveness is a tricky thing. And while the two of them would never meet, and probably never speak again. Fran’s Mother believed that God was telling her to forgive him. She thanked him for the royalty checks she’d been receiving in the mail. It helped with her husband’s increasing medical bills. But she will never have her little girl back. 

And it was his fault. But she forgave him. Just how he was learning to forgive his parents. 

Forgive himself. That was the hard one. He’ll be working on that maybe until the day he dies he thinks. Maybe. 

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ransom explains. Dowd smiled softly, 

“And she’s not going to leave.”

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed, “She’s not going to leave.” Well she is, but not completely. He was an adult. He could start taking care of himself, but she was still going to technically be his assistant. 

“This is our last session together and before it ends is there anything you’d like to say?” Dowd asked him. The old man had taken on a new light for him over the last two years, Ransom really liked the guy. There was no doubt he helped him a lot, but it was more than that. Dowd was a good man. It was admirable. Ransom had never met a good man in his entire life. 

Dowd loved his family, his wife, he loved his job. He was a good guy and if it wasn’t wildly inappropriate Ransom would have loved to take him golfing. Maybe invite his family over for dinner. Maybe one day. Maybe once the Doctor retires. 

“I don’t think it should be our last session.” Dowd smiled at that.

“That’s exactly how you know you’ve improved.” The man assured, “Cause you’re nowhere near done.” Ransom should have taken offense to that, but he knew. He was still a work in progress. He still needed help, just maybe not as much as before. 

Dowd parted with a cookie tin full of those caramel cookies Ransom loved so much, but he was too excited to care. You were ready to go. You wanted to see your sister more than anything else and he was happy to take you there. 

He smirked as you ran into your sister’s arms. The fourteen year old was taller than you now, her face dotted with acne. She glared at Ransom over your shoulder. 

He deserves it. Honestly. 

Dinner was no better. The teen ignoring him completely as he sat awkwardly in the smallest restaurant he’d even been in. You’d spoke practiced spanish to the server and older woman he’d also seen flipping tortillas on the flat top in the back. You’d placed a paper plate with radishes, limes, and a mix of spicy peppers, onions, and cactus in front of the three of you. 

A mess of plates were served. This little hole in the wall served the best tacos he’d ever had. Acidic ceviche that he’d eaten scooped into chips, the second order he ate with a spoon straight from the bowl. He didn’t interrupt the two of you and your jovial conversation. 

Julia gossiped about a girl at school who was apparently a total bitch and everyone hates her, but she had secretly been dating another girl they went to school with and was now being super nice because she wasn’t closeted anymore. 

There was another story about a teacher who had recently lost a child that your sister and her club had been trying to get money together to help pay for the funeral, “How much do you need?” Ransom interrupted. 

Julia looked at him with wide eyes, almost forgetting he was there for a moment. “Uh… like we’ve raised almost $2,000 but we were trying to get a full ten.” Ransom nodded, squeezing a lime over his taco. 

“Remind me to write you a check before I drop you back off.” He felt your eyes on him, a soft smile. You weren’t going to spring the relationship on your sister quite yet. Not when she still wanted to strangle him. 

“That- You’re going to give me $8,000?” Julia asked incredulously. Ransom nodded, chewing and swallowing. 

“It’s hard to lose a child.” He offered, “It’s hard for everyone.”

“Especially the parents.” Julia bit. He deserved that. He nods. 

“Especially the parents.” 

He was nervous. What if you didn’t like it? He’d sell it he’d suppose. But you had to like it. He broke into your tablet one night and sent screenshots of your Pinterest saves to an interior designer. It should be what you want, how you wanted it. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. You had sat in the back with your sister. The two of you holding hands and talking about how homecoming went and how there was a junior guy in band who had asked her to the prom. 

“We’re almost there.” He pulled into a paved driveway, turning the corner he tapped a few times on his phone the dark house lighting up before him. He heard two collective gasps from the backseat. 

“Ransom, what is this?” You were confused, obviously. He exited the car, the two of you following. 

He stepped up on the porch, not answering. His heart racing in his chest. He dug out the small key chain that had been weighing heavily in his pocket, turning to the two of you and hanging it from a finger. “I know you hate expensive gifts, but I can’t let you go back to that apartment.” His mouth was dry. 

“Ransom.” You breathed. The keys were snatched from his finger, Julia moved past him to unlock the door, rushing inside. 

“Oh my God!” She squealed from inside. Ransom shrugged softly, hand still outstretched towards yours. 

“Please take it.” He whispered. A few seconds ticked by as he watched you decide. Please take it. 

“Y/N,” Julia called, “This house is incredible.” She was panting in the doorway, shoes already discarded. He watched you look past him to her, the smile on her face. And you took his hand. 

You’d been dating for a while when Ransom suggested couples therapy. Pretty much as soon as you’d moved in together. It was a nice break. Six months not seeing each other every minute of every day. He picked you up on real dates. You’d gone to real movies. You’d taken real walks in a real park. You had after dinner drinks at a real bar. One which you’d remembered he had ignored you in what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Julia had just gone to bed. She had a soccer game in the morning. He’d suggested it while you were getting ready for bed. A box of his clothes sat still packed in the corner. The last box. One you hadn’t quite gotten to yet. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” He defended. “I just think that it would keep us in a healthy relationship.” And you agreed. He was happy you agreed. He didn’t want you to think that he felt as though there were problems. Other than him leaving his dirty socks and coffee mugs around the two of you hadn’t had much of a disagreement.

Yet. 

Dowd was kind enough to still make house calls, something Ransom was fortunate for. He was working hard getting his next novel out. Deadline coming on quick as the two of you sat in a session where the Doctor looked at you and said, 

“He’s treated you fairly poorly over the last two years.” Ransom felt offended. Dowd was supposed to be on his side, but he came out the gate swinging. It didn’t stop it being true. 

You opened and closed your mouth. “I wouldn’t say…” You rubbed your hands down your thighs, drying the sweat on your palms. 

“It’s not okay.” Dowd responded. “We both know him, we know how far he’s come.” He gestured to Ransom and Ransom nodded. 

“He’s right baby.” A hand on your thigh in a way Ransom hoped was comforting. “The way I treated you is not okay. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions.” You sat awkwardly. Ransom wondered if you were beginning to regret this. 

“But Ransom, honey, I just--” You looked so nervous, sinking down into the couch, your eyes fixed on Dowd. “You’ve changed so much, and you’ve never really been…” You gestured with your hands. “You’re a victim of circumstance.” You began, “I don’t believe that if you’d had loving parents you would have ever been in the situation you were in… not that you know, nature versus nurture and I just think, I don’t know, maybe... “

“It’s okay.” Dowd put a hand out. “Listen, this is a lot to start with and it’s okay. We don’t have to get too far into it. The next session I would like to have both of you write a letter to each other, something about how the last two years have affected your life. I think that’s where we should start.” 

Intermingling breaths and hips pushed into the kitchen table, loud moans echoing in the kitchen as Ransom sinks himself into you over and over. “So fucking hot baby.” He breathes. “So fucking hot,” He hitched your leg up onto the table, enabling him to go deeper. “You’ll do anything for me, wont you?” He asked. His snapping hard against your perfect ass, hands roughly gripping the globes, tinted red by the palm of his hand. 

“Yes,” You moaned roughly, “Anything.” Ransom moaned, reaching a hand down to steadily rub your clit, so wet for him. Only him. 

“I love you so fucking much.” He moaned, hips beginning to falter as you came around him. Pussy contracting, milking his cock as he released inside the condom, panting. 

“I love you too.” You whispered heavily into the room. Both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“Thank you for doing this for me.” His fingers tracing softly down your bare spine. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.” He watched as you pulled your discarded shirt back on, shifting your leggings back up your hips as he discarded his condom, pulling his sweats back up over his own. 

“I think it’ll be good for us,” You said, “In the long run.” He nods in agreement. 

“I would hate for us to turn out like my parents.” He whispered. 

“We’re not ever going to be like your parents.” You assured him, gripping his hand softly. 

“I don’t want you to resent me in twenty years.” He looked into your eyes, searching as you replied,

“You think we’ll be together in twenty years?” You asked. He rolled his eyes as you let a watery laugh part your lips. He pressed his lips tightly against yours, fingers tangled in your hair. 

“I sure as hell hope so.” 

The sessions continued. One a month. Each month. 

The two of you worked together to make this relationship work. You tried hard. You grew and you grew together. 

“I think we’d be pretty good parents.” He said once. A few weeks before the marriage proposal. It got the both of you hot for it. The idea. Not something you’d been planning on acting on anytime soon but when he was balls deep inside your tight wet pussy he couldn’t help but imagine you swelling with his child, breasts heavy, firm belly pressing against him as he thrust inside you. 

He was hot for it, always. 

And you were thinking of it too. You’d spin your engagement ring around your finger and stare at him wistfully, tongue coming out to wet your lower lip. 

You were riding him. Hips circling on top of his, panting and moaning. Your body glistening with sweat. Hands curled in your hair, back arched. “You gonna give me a baby?” You asked. He nodded, panting, he wanted to thrust into you but he couldn’t help but love the way you looked right now. Chasing your own release. Selfish. Wanting. 

He fucking loved it. 

You held his wrists to the bed, using your knees to rock back and forth on top of him as you pressed your lips to his. A whisper against his lips. “You gonna cum inside me?” You moaned. 

“Yes, baby.” He braced his feet against the bed grinding his hips against yours, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone until you were shuddering on top of him, moaning into his mouth with your release. You collapse against his chest, his arms coming to wrap around your waist, his braced feet giving him the leverage he needed to fuck you. His hips starting a punishing rhythm. The loud slap of his thighs meeting yours filling the room. 

“I can’t wait.” He breathes, “I love you so fucking much.” Your choked moans did him in, his release spilling inside you, not willing to let you go quite yet as the two of you stilled. The sweat covering your bodies began to chill you. 

“I love you too.” 

The wedding was small. Springtime. For months after the proposal and very quiet. Neither of you had very much family and fewer friends. A small group in your backyard. A cake from your favorite bakery. Promises of a bright future and a new life. Here, together. 

You’d feel the flutter in your belly a few months after that.

.

.

.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans #knives out

[thecrimsonjaguar]

A Short List of Adventure Time AUs

So I got a google doc of adventure time aus I’ve made over the past two or three years. Here are some of my favorites (and also the ones I came back to and edited)

If you’ve got ideas for an au or ideas to add onto the preexisting ones I’ve got here, please tell me! I’m always up for some au discussion. 

1.) Jermaine AU: Jermaine comes to live at the treehouse after his house blows up. This, unlike canon, happens rather early in season 3. The rest of the series mainly stays the same, except this time there's three brothers instead of two. He's a kinda anxious dude with demon hunting expertise and a painting hobby. He sometimes wonders if he made Dad disappointed by letting all his work explode. Finn and Jake help him out, and he helps them. Despite this, Jermaine is the only one with a brain, and Finn and Jake share exactly one (1) braincell that they trade every so often. Jermaine is tired. (Jermaine is the only one who tries to clean regularly, and he's also the one to keep Neptr, Ancient Psychic Tandem War Elephant, and a few others company. He's a bit of real wisdom the early series Finn and Jake needed.

2.) Melted Ice AU: Mid season two, IK is hit with something that de-ages him. He turns six. Maybe this mystery de-aging thing blows up the top of the ice mountain, who knows. Maybe he wakes up in the snow, with no memory of how he got there or why. No memory of the last one thousand years. Finn and Jake don't know about his backstory since that happens in season three. Simon is carried by a snowman out of the ice kingdom where he breaks down in the plains. Finn, of course, finds him and is ecstatic to meet another human. Completely missing the fact that this small child is, in fact, the Ice King, Finn declares to help this boy no matter what. That promise soon becomes difficult when people hear about the second human in Ooo, and whatever effect that's keeping him young starts to wear off. (Marceline comes to visit and has a heart attack)

3.) Adventure Falls AU: AT x GF baybee!! Seventeen year old Stanley Pines hops on the Stan O' War and sets sail when he's kicked out. Unfortunately, that boat is nowhere near sea worthy, and all it takes for him to go overboard is one sudden (magical) storm. But, miraculously, Stan doesn't die. He washes up on Ooo, the island of misfits. Where there's daddy issues galore and punching things and getting gold is a legitimate career. He's found on the shore by none other than Finn, who asks if he's okay and if a dungeon adventure would soothe his worries. Stan accepts, because that sounds awesome, and they maybe date. For the next ten years, Stanley is a professional hero. He travels with Finn, he lives in a tower with tons of gold, he's respected, adored, and has made a family for himself. Ooo has a habit of forcing traumatic therapy onto to people, so Stan gets (read: is forced) to work his issues out. And then, somehow, he gets a postcard from his brother.

4.) Young Pups AU: Jake's kids grow up fast- but not that fast. He stays with lady for a few episodes being Dad and when the Pups are old enough, go visit Finn and Jermaine. Also Jermaine is there when the pups are born that always bothered me in canon like what the fuck. This whole AU results in Jake the Dad being a better father than in canon, because he actually has time to make mistakes and learn from them. He sometimes shapeshifts into one of those baby carriers but suited for five kids instead of one. Finn and Jermaine fight for best uncle privileges. Finn is considerably more awesome but Jermaine's got magic junk and juicy stories about Jake. So far the votes are: FINN: Jake Jr, T.V.  JERMAINE: Kim Kil Whan, Charlie. Viola remains undecided.

4.) Evilgreen AU: Evergreen was evil. His idea to make the crown to stop the comet was actually a cover story to take control of all the elements and freeze everything. Of course the same thing happens here as it did in canon, Gunther gets the crown and wishes to *be* evergreen. This is bad. Very bad, so bad in fact, that things get FUnKy. A couple eons later, Simon gets the crown as per canon, and then things start to slide downhill. Since the crown is significantly worse, Simon tries to get rid of it. No amount of magic pull is going to get him to put on the eldritch hat. It teleports back. When things go to shit, the crown tells him he's got two options: He can either live, or he can live unwillingly. This all coalesces in super angst and mild horror as Simon has to fight off evil urges and somehow keep both he and Marceline safe. Things start looking up, though, when he summons Hunson Abadeer.

5.) Nightmare Therapy AU: Simon, now himself post canon, has some funky nightmares. Problem is: he's due for a visit from the cosmic owl due to some mystical bureaucratic bs. If that were to happen, Simon's dreams of Golb and Orgalorg and the world ending and everyone dying and maze would come true, without the veil of metaphoric junk dreams are known for (also due to bureaucratic bs). So, Simon gets a dream therapist. An OC, probably, that would fight off his nightmares when they came and talk to him about his issues.

6.) High School AU: Except they're all still magic and crap. Finn's a jock that's part of the LDnD club(Literally Dungeons and Dragons), Jake's got a job at a pancake place and hosts the Card Wars clubs on Wednesdays, Jermaine's in college and their parents were still detectives/demon hunters. PB is preppy/nerdy girl with weird fucking family and is absolutely a mad scientist. Marceline is still a demon/vamp (vampire biker gang, they all died, deaths pending) and her uncle is Simon. Simon is a history teacher whose ex wife might be an eldritch abomination (the students wonder, but there are no answers)((simon says cryptic things every so often that are the subject of much ridicule, but he's a nice guy)). Ooo High has all of the AT characters in some shape or form. Tree trunks is the lunchlady, Mr Pig is a janitor. Lemongrab is just there. LSP(Q?) is a teacher because that's hilarious. Hunson is dead along with Marceline's mom because fuck hunson. Magic Man is a hobo that snuck onto campus and can't be chased off (his brother is the superintendent, Glob). there's a lot more but that's for a different word doc.

7.) Back to the Future AU: So PB fucks around with time travel, right? For science. She gets sent back in time a thousand years, before the war. Now, she's a pink lady who can shoot jelly beans from her hands, of course needs to lay low. And of course she needs to get home, but she's in a Futurama situation where she only has one type of time machine; the one that can go into the past. Not to mention her own time machine got busted on her way there, so she's double screwed. But, she remembers something. There is an individual (two, actually) that knows about time travel in this time period. She knows him, and he's likely to help her if she plays her card right. She needs to find Simon and get back to her own time, preferably without dooming herself in the process. (perhaps she tries to steal the notes Simon has, and Simon's completely oblivious, except Betty can smell trouble from a mile away and immediately notices some pink woman trying to steal books and she goes ham. Perhaps she goes ham in such a way that Simon doesn't notice. Perhaps this goes on for seven acts.)

8.) Bread and Butter AU: Bella Noche during the episode Betty creates a huge black cube that engulfs all of Wizard City. This box acts as a cage and prevents Wizards from escaping the magic purge. Simon is unable to bring Betty back from the past, and he's fading fast. In a desperate attempt to stop things from escalating, Simon chugs a bottle of anti-magic like a fucking god. He gets through the cube that surrounds Bella Noche and knocks their lights out. He passes out, and when he comes to, the anti-magic he consumed as merged with him. This is because of a simple rule: Magic sticks to magic, anti-magic sticks to anti-magic. And since humans have always had just a little bit of anti -magic present within them, humans and anti-magic go together like bread and butter (badumtish) ((I have actually written a fanfic about this, you can find it here))

9.) Swapped AU: Through various shenanigans Ice King's and Magic Man's powers gets swapped. These shenanigans somehow land them in space as well. This happens before Magic Man's trial. The swapping of their powers results in Simon getting his memory back. It also gives Magic Man the Ice Crown, unfortunately for him though, it seems to hate him. Simon's glad to back, but quickly realizes one issue: He's still crazy. So the pair try to make it back to Ooo. MM needs his powers to swap himself with some other shmuck so he doesn't croak when his trial comes, but Simon's made it clear he isn't giving his powers up without a fight. The pair starts off rocky, neither trusting the other, but space trouble forces them to work together. Simon's a nice enough guy he wouldn't leave someone to die and MM really needs Simon alive so it works out. A weird friendship forms, and they learn get along. Just a couple of crazy space wizards. Then the crown is destroyed. MM is freed from the crown's control, and he's freed from magic. He gets his sanity back, just in time for his trial.

that’s all I’ve got for now!

#at #adventure time #adventure time au #adventure time aus #Finn the Human #finn #jake the dog #jake #marceline #princess bubblegum #pb #simon petrikov #betty grof #ice king #magic man #au #aus

[ectora]

REVIEW 311

Screen time

Macy : 23m26s

Maggie : 20m07s

Mel : 18m25s

Harry : 13m20s

Abigael : 5m02s

Jordan : 4m28s

Here is a table with the details of the time shared

Opinions

In a general manner I enjoyed the episode. It was entertaining and well passed. I don’t think it was their strongest episode so far but it was an entertaining one. It finally started to connect the other characters to the main storyline but also felt almost like a filler for the sisters. I also think the show should have maybe showed more consequences and different good things for the sisters. Because except for Mel (and I’ll come back to that later), the good things that happened to Maggie and Macy are pretty normal. It’s not like Maggie didn’t work for that internship. It’s not like a free legal clinic would get bad press. Or that it can’t happen to be upgraded in a hotel. Like yes what happened to antonio and that old man was really bad but at the same time it just didn’t feel like the sisters were gaining that much from it. Maybe if they had sticked to only it being the consequences of what they had to do to get the allergy off or something, rather than good things that could have normally happened, happening. I’m not sure that nakes sense but well lmao

Positive points:

The perfecti. They’re actually really entertaining on screens and are just funny. I think they were a great idea and a good addition to the story. And I’m genuinely excited to see more of them and how they’re story is going to unfold.

Josefina getting her powers. I’m glad they ended up giving her her powers with “wakening spell” similar to the one the sisters needed when they became witches. I really like her powers as well it’s so fitting.

Macy smiling. I have my issues with how the whole thing happened and I’ll take about it later but I’m glad she was finally able to catch a break. The show is often giving her storylines without a lot of time for her to just breath and I’m glad she finally got the opportunity to do so.

Abigael and Jordan. Listen, I just have a soft spot for their friendship. I just enjoy watching them. Tbh they both have easy chemistry with everyone but these two together just gives me good vibes. I just like them together on screen. I also liked how absolutely soft he was with her. And how she easily recognise his qualities. I just love them individually and together.

Maggie finally getting some therapy. I’m glad they’re finally giving that to her. Now can they extend that to like ... literally every single one of their main characters cause they all need it.

Josefina and Mel. As always their scene were really enjoyable. I think it’s always nice to see Mel show other people magic isn’t their only power. And I like how it shows how understanding and empathetic Mel really can be.

Mel and Maggie. Once again, their bond is so sweet and feels very natural. I just love seeing them share normal sisterly moments.

Negative points :

those are only going to be the actual negative points I have. Others that are more like annoyance, I’ll put them with the remarks.

Ruby. I’m just tired of this show giving zero effort to that relationship. I’m a big time abimel shipper but the treatment they give melby is just disrespectful at this point. They had one little moment where they said “oh she isn’t here” and then that’s it. Not even pretending to be on the phone. Or a text message. Nada. This needs to be fixed. Either get on it or get rid of it. But enough. Especially when you compare it to how they treat the straights.

Abigael’s story. Apparently some people don’t make the connexion with self harm, but to me said connexion is pretty obvious. More and more obvious especially after last episode where they showed us Abigael hurting herself directly. It was graphic and kinda unnecessary imo. I think the story itself, of having Abigael’s sides fight each other is interesting but the way they approached it was very careless and if they continue being so adamant about showing us how broken abi is, they need to actually be careful how they handle this.

Things that just don’t make sense:

Did no one tell Maggie about Jordan being cured ? I’m so confused 😭

Mel. Again, is no one ever going to talk about the fact she never finished her phd in season 1 ? Or didn’t have any teaching experience. I know it’s a small things that’s probably never going to be brought up but it’s been nagging me djdhd

At the end of the episode when they go back to putting the egg, suddenly the air isn’t toxic anymore and it’s small but i realised right away and just haven’t been able to get it out of my head.

Same with Josefina and the book. Mel was right there. Couldn’t she have taken it ? 😭

Why did Harry and Macy took the portal to Paris ? Why just not orb.

I’m still confused by the whole demon trying to kill the witch side of Abby to be honest. Like I’m not sure how hurting her physical body is going to do anything ? Isnt her demon part gonna die too then ? Parker’s made more sense because it was like a sickness, you could say the magical cells were killing he humans ones or something. But here ? I’m confused.

Talking about demon abi, ... why this ugly ass dress. I understand the reason for different noticeable clothes but why does it need to be this ugly. Abigael Jameson-Caine is too fashionable for this.

The entire book of shadow thing like ? Did we just forgot Mel presented the book to Josefina the episode before ? Are we just erasing that from our memories ? What’s happening.

How they gonna freeze the therapist and then just leave a note like is she not supposed to unfreeze ? Maggie is just gonna be gone ? And with a sudden note on her laps ? What.

Remarks & speculations

Hacy. I don’t dislike the couple don’t get me wrong. I think they’re sweet. But the show focuses too much on that relationship. Macy barely feels like she has a story outside of it at this point. At least Harry has the whole white lighter thing but again the reason he wants to be mortal is Macy so ... if just feels like the show continues to centre these two characters toward each other first. However it was great to see Macy happy. But again like The sisters had one hug and then that was if.

I’m really sad we didn’t actually see Macy and Josefina interact. Or that we won’t see her reach them a bit more about her magic and the whole new side they don’t know about.

My babies in the tomb. I’m just really wondering what the deal with the perfecti. Are they so big on duality, good and bad that it’s to an extreme that is dangerous ? Abigael in some ways I can understand. She’s the demon overlord. She’s powerful. Her demon form tried to go after TCO. But Jordan ? Was he just a collateral damage ? Did they judge him bad because he was with abi ? Because he was cursed ? Or is it a plan they have that involved isolating TCO ? (I doubt it but still a possibility). I mean he was probably out there cause he was helping abi but then it being strong questions about the perfecti’s moralities and visions of the world. Cannot wait to see more.

Abigael was ... broken to say the least. Kudo to poppy for that, Abigael looked absolutely exhausted. You could feel the fear and exhaustion in everything she did. And I feel bad for her because she’s not only mentally exhausted but physically too. She can’t sleep safely. And I don’t know if everyone realised the level all this must have reached for Abigael to be ready to give up everything. Because she is different from the sisters on this, she grew up as a magical being. That has been her entire life. What has been defining her since birth. For her to be so ready to give everything up so she could finally just find some peace ... she’s literally at her limits.

Talking about abi. We know the sisters are gonna try to help Jordan in episode 13 but does that mean they don’t realise Jordan is gone until then ? So it’s easy to assume 312 will also have abi/jordy mostly and in the tomb. Speculations - if the synopsis of 312 is indeed about saving Jordan from the tomb and not something else - is that they’ll realise on site than Abigael is stuck too and will help her as well. Unless she does something good to help jordan and because of that they decided to get her out too. That could connect both story and have a start on the redemption.

Also while abi is gone are the demons just gonna wait around ? Like the fact they all just willingly followed her rules doesn’t seem realistic but even less when the girl is no where to be found.

I just want Mel to get a proper storyline. And Macy too. Maggie I feel is actually the best written one development wise out of all of them.

I think they brought the storyline of Harry being worried about his age and waiting to be mortal too early. He has a good ten years on Macy anyway. And they barely started dating. There are already a lot of things going on and I genuinely feel like they should have left that for next season at least.

Highlights

Maggie in therapy. “You seem like you have a lot of demons” “are you under a lot of stress” was genuinely funny. Maggie is so naturally funny I really love her for it.

Mel saying there isn’t another shoe to drop and demon Abigael saying hold me beer.

The dogs that does math. Don’t ask me why it’s just funny.

Josefina using her powers after realising she still has them

Macy’s face when Harry told her about becoming mortal as if he isn’t constantly talking about it djdhd

Abigael’s soft “jordy”

Celebrating later, running now

The entire witch ceremony at the end.

#charmed #charmed cw #charmed 2018 #charmed reboot #abigael caine #abigael jameson caine #jordan chase #harry greenwood #macy vaughn #mel vera #maggie vera #review #charmed review #311

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 37: Vancouver

WORD COUNT: 5.1K 

A/N: haha three ch in under a week? love that for me

TAGS: @madamsixx @nosebleedblitz​

@emariehorror​

WARNINGS: none

Read On Ao3

Previous/Next

February 5th, 1988

Tucson, Arizona

Nikki popped his bubblegum, resting his leg across his other to get comfortable in the dark green armchair. He waited patiently in the therapy office, looking out the wall-to-ceiling window to the Arizona desert. The sound of the door opening made Nikki's head turn, the on-edge feeling turning into a relaxed emotion.

"Sorry I'm late, Nikki. I had run into a colleague for a minute," said the Dr. grabbing his notebook from his desk.

"It's okay, Ortiz. Felt nice to think of what to say before we started," politely said Nikki, spitting his gum out onto a tissue.

"Good. It's always best to think before rambling during an appointment. Gets all the bases," said Dr. Ortiz, sitting down in front of Nikki. He clipped his pen and wrote down the date on his notes for Nikki. "So, how have we been feeling personally?"

"My mood has been good. I haven't tanked and felt depressed. It feels great to say that. I really haven't felt depressed since being here," said Nikki, scoffing at the fact of being healthy working out for him.  

"Well done then. According to my notes here, you had a group therapy session a couple of days ago with a guest? Is that correct?" asked Dr. Ortiz. Nikki nodded. "And how was it seeing a familiar face for the first time since admitting yourself into rehab?"

"I was happy, then I was scared. Scared and happy at the same time. I don't know how anyone can have those feelings together, but I did," said Nikki, rubbing his hands together, Sammi's face popping in his head.

"Why were you scared?" asked Dr. Ortiz, ready to write down what Nikki was about to say.

"Sammi and I didn't leave on the greatest terms in California. When I saw her, I was scared of what she would say about being around me when I was doing heroin,"

"And how did you feel in the end after she expressed her feelings?"

"Sad… I really didn't realize how horrible Sammi felt about everything from the moment I started. It never crossed my mind the conversation we had when we broke up. I don't want to hurt her like that ever again," said Nikki, continuing to rub his hands together.

"While it may have been a terrible feeling to hear to her side of the abuse, it helps make you a better person living a sober life and get rid of the fear,"

"What if I'm still scared of being sober?" asked Nikki, looking down at his feet

"And what is it that you're scared of exactly?"

Nikki sighed, rubbing his hands on his pants. "What if I'm a terrible boyfriend to her being sober? That's what I'm scared about,"

Dr. Ortiz is taken aback but almost lets out a chuckle. "Why would you believe you'd make a terrible boyfriend? You seemed like a great man to her and only her. Even with your troubles from all of our sessions. So why worry when you'd be healthy?"

"Because I've never been with someone I love without some kind of 'help,'" said Nikki, blushing from saying the L-word. "I've always been under the influence even to a small extent with Sammi because I needed it. Without drugs I'm a timid man who wants to be with the smartest girl he ever met," sighed Nikki. "That's why I'm scared,"

Dr. Ortiz takes a second to think before speaking, ready to talk man to man. "Nikki, I'm not going to be speaking in a way of a therapist but how a normal married man would. If Sammi dealt and stuck around long enough when you had your shit, then what makes you think she's not going to love Sober Nikki?" asked Dr. Ortiz, narrowing his eyes at Nikki.

"But she blamed herself for me dying…"

"And that is when you act like a man and treat her like the queen she is to you. Understood?" Nikki only nodded. "Very good. It's going to be a learning curve but hiding isn't going to work out,"

June 3rd, 1988

San Francisco, California

Boxes upon boxes were scattered among the small place that was now Sammi's old apartment, ready to be filled with every single little thing she can take home. Sammi kneeled in front of one labeled 'photos' as Emma and Sabrina were graciously beside her, putting other things in different boxes. Sabrina organized all of Sammi's books while Emma took the time for her snack break.

"Thanks for the help you two, even if Emma's been eating the whole time," said Sammi, smiling over at Emma in the middle.

"Your kitchen is empty for your information thanks to me so you're welcome," said Emma with a mouth full of banana, Sabrina shaking her head playfully.

"Why thank you, Emma. Is it still hard to believe I'm finally done with school? No more having to deal with grades,"

"Tell me about it. I'm starting to miss it already and I'm only taking a year off," said Sabrina, reading the back of one book.

"Yeah yeah we get it. You two are done with college while my ass is still going to classes," said Emma, pouting.

"Awe you'll be fine," said Sabrina, pinching Emma's cheeks. "Just one more year and then you'll be free to your heart's content," The three girls chuckled along, Sammi continuing to pack her belongings on the living room floor.

"Hey Sam, I have a question," said Emma.

"Shoot,"

"Do you have any regrets moving over by yourself? I'm starting to think about what I wanna do when I graduate,"

"You're gonna leave me and move away?" asked Sabrina, raising an eyebrow.

"You're gonna leave us?" corrected Sammi.

Emma giggled at the two. "No, I'm not moving out just yet. I just want to know what it's like here since it's the 'gay mecca'. I have to be with the lesbians at some point," joked Emma.

Sammi stared into the distance for a moment, pursing her lips as she thought about the question, "Yeah I actually do. I wish I never moved here,"

"What? Why?" asked Emma, scrunching her brows together.

"Think about it. I didn't make any friends here. I only met rude and miserable people when I had the chance to make friends. All I have are bad memories. Me leaving didn't do any good back home with Nikki, leading to another fight with Vince. I should've just stayed in L.A,"

"Damn I never thought about it that way," said Sabrina.

"Me neither," added Emma.

"If I stayed then maybe I wouldn't have any awkward tension between Vince and now Nikki. Maybe we'd all be living under one roof. It's just something I think about," said Sammi, looking down at the scattered photos.

"Well hey, who needs friends when you have us," said Emma, swinging an arm around Sabrina to pull her into their side. Sammi only smiled at the two with a sweet chuckle before going back to finishing the last of the photos, taping the box shut.

"You do have multiple points. Speaking of which, how are the guys since getting out of rehab?" asked Sabrina.

"They are currently in Canada working on a new album, so that's always good. Tommy, Mick, and Vince left in April. I would say they're doing great since being out. Tommy was a big help going apartment hunting with me," said Sammi.

"What about Nik?" asked Emma.

Sammi sighed. "He went straight to Canada after being released. I haven't heard from him since that therapy session," said Sammi, lowering her eyes from Emma and Sabrina. They could see the change in Sammi's face. Even if she didn't say it loud, the girls knew Sammi missed Nikki.

"You should just go visit them," suggested Emma. "I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be the biggest shock in the world to the guys,"

"Yeah but this isn't a tour date. They're  working this time, and I don't want to be a nuisance,"

"You seriously don't think Heather or whoever is dating Vince doesn't barge in when they record back home?" asked Sabrina.

Sammi did shrug a shoulder in acknowledgment until something clicked in her head. "Wait I just remembered Mick said I could visit,"

"Then go!" shouted Emma and Sabrina in unison.

"Fine! Fine! I'll make some calls after we're home and I'm somewhat settled," said Sammi, standing up on her feet and walking to see what needed to be packed in parts of her bedroom.

June 14th, 1988

Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

For being summer in Canada, the country proved to be the coldest place Sammi has ever visited, needing to wear her warmest leather jacket for the trip. She was quick to learn Vancouver was a calm city with still enough action going around. Sammi made a mental note to come back whenever L. A got too hot for her.

With the help of Doc setting Sammi up in Canada, it didn't take any time to find the recording studio Motley was working at. Sammi walked straight into the two-story building, hands in her pocket as she looked at the wooden interior. She stood right in the middle of the lobby where no one occupied the front desk, surprised by the quiet. The sound of steps walking down the stairs caused Sammi to turn on her heels, facing a young man with papers in his hand.

"Uh hey!" said Sammi, smiling politely at the young man.

"Hi… um who are you?" asked the skinny young man, walking down the last steps with hesitation.

"I'm Sammi, sorry to just pop in like this," said Sammi, extending out a hand.

"Like the name. I'm Kevin," said Kevin, shaking Sammi's hand. "What can I help you with?"

"Well I was wondering if Motley Crue was here right now. I'm Tommy's little sister," said Sammi, fixing the strap of her purse.

"Oh yeah they're upstairs with their producer right now. Did they know you were coming?" asked Kevin.

"No, I wanted to surprise them. It's been kind of boring back in California," smiled Sammi to hopefully let Kevin lead her to the boys.

"Well…" said Kevin, looking up the stairs and back at Sammi. "I know their producer Bob might not like you being here but I do know you're pretty special to the guys,"

"Yeah, the guys and I are pretty tight,"

"Alright then come with me," said Kevin, leading Sammi up the stairs. Kevin led Sammi through a spacious long hallway, knocking on the second door to their right. He peeked his head inside once, opening the door slightly. "Um, sir, the boys have a visitor,"

"I said no visitors. These four don't need any female distractions," said Bob in a deep and intimidating voice. Sammi almost regretted surprising the boys if they had this man working with them.

"It's Tommy's sister Sammi, sir,"

"Sammi!" yelled Tommy, Sammi hearing his steps rush out the door. Tommy swung the door open and, in one quick movement, engulfed Sammi in a tight hug, lifting her up in the air. "I've missed you!"

"It's only been 2 months!" giggled Sammi.

"I don't care, I miss you!" said Tommy, placing Sammi down on her feet. Before Sammi could say anything, she soon noticed Nikki right behind Tommy, almost in hiding. Nikki sheepishly had his hand in the back of his jean pockets and a slight smile on his lips.

"Hey, Sammi," uttered Nikki, stepping closer to Sammi. Sammi couldn't keep her eyes off Nikki, first noting every single new thing about the man. He had more tattoos all down his arm of what appeared to be Japanese artwork. It complimented his now bigger biceps and toned body, seeing Nikki's pecs through his shirt. Tommy could see the shock and plan to gawk on Sammi's face, finding it downright humorous.

When Nikki stood right in front of Sammi, Sammi blinked rapidly and cracked a smirk. "Wow. You look…" lingered Sammi.

"Different?" blushed Nikki.

"I was going to say great. You look great with your new look," smiled Sammi, finally one take forward and hugging Nikki like normal. Nikki didn't question anything, wrapping his strong arms tightly around Sammi. She could feel the difference in strength right away.

"Come on, let's not be greedy," said Tommy, grasping Sammi's shoulder and leading her into the recording room.

Without Sammi facing the terror twins, Tommy flashed a smirk to Nikki as if the adults were back to being teenagers in high school. Mick was the first to welcome Sammi in, heading straight for a hug and a pat on her head.

"Ain't this a surprise, Little girl," said Mick.

"You're the one who told me to come," smiled Sammi, causing Mick to shrug his shoulder.

Mick was almost pleased with himself. "Didn't think you'd take the bait," chuckled Mick. Mick looking healthy was Sammi's first thought, causing the smile to stick on her lips.

"Hey Sammi," said Vince, going straight for a hug that was gladly returned. "Finally we can have some fun around here,"

Right as Sammi was close to responding when the sight of Bob caused her to shut her mouth. Bob was a big tall man whose voice matched everything about him physically. He towered over Sammi, glaring down at her with an intense stare. Sammi took a few steps back, almost hiding right behind Nikki.

"Am I really that scary?" asked Bob, breaking into a smile.

"Do you want an honest answer?" asked Sammi, staying beside Nikki. Nikki crossed his arms, puffing his chest to seem as if he was protecting Sammi. Bob nodded. "You're more than a foot taller than me and built like a football player. You are scary to me!" said Sammi. Everyone burst into laughter, any tension dissipating.

"Well I am not a mean person. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sammi. You just came at the right second, the boys are on a break," said Bob.

"I really hope I'm not imposing. I can just go back to my hotel and wait,"

"No!" said Motley in unison.

"Sammi trust us, we need you for a bit," said Nikki, squeezing Sammi's shoulder gently.

"You can stay for the rest of the session if you like, Sammi. I'm serious. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the offices. We'll start recording vocals in 20," said Bob, walking out, having Kevin follow him right behind. Sammi let out a sigh of relief, happy to not bother anyone who was working with Motley.

"See, Sam, you're welcome wherever you go," said Tommy pulling out a chair for Sammi that she accepted.

"I guess I am. But enough about me, how's the album going?" excitedly asking Sammi, smiling with bright eyes at the guys.

As the guys all settled back into their seats, Mick whipped out a piece of paper of every song for their new album, all in Nikki's handwriting. Sammi took the form for closer examination, reading off every circled name of a song.  

"Okay so we have 'Dr. Feelgood'. That one sounds cool. 'Slice of Your Pie', I wonder what that one's about," said Sammi, glaring at all the guys with a smirk.

"Get your mind out of the gut, Samantha," teased Vince.

"Rattlesnake Shake. That one also sounds cool. Kickstart My Heart. That has to be about Nikki. Without you?" stopped Sammi, scrunching her brows together. She looked up at Motley, trying to read all their faces. Vince and Tommy shifted their eyes to each other, looking at Nikki and Mick. Nikki bounced his leg a bit more than usual. "What's 'Without You' about?" asked Sammi. Nikki and Tommy glanced at each other, waiting for one of the two to speak.

"It's a song about Heather and I. You know how record labels are about having love songs on albums," said Tommy, putting on a somewhat convincing smile.

"Oh so you wrote a song!" exclaimed Sammi. "That's awesome. Did you help him, Nikki?" Nikki shook his head. "Well can I hear it? Especially if you wrote it Tommy,"

"It's not done yet, Sam. We still need the instruments on some parts," said Vince, Nikki thanking him in his mind. "Anyway! How many days are you staying in Vancouver?" asked Vince.

"I'm only staying for 2 days. I just wanted to make sure you four were still good and running," said Sammi.

"Awe come on Sammi, you don't have to worry about us. We're adults who have now figured out life. Kind of," said Vince with a proud smug smile.

"Vince is right and we can prove it to you," said Nikki.

"Oh really? How so?" asked Sammi, raising a brow with a smirk to Nikki.

"How about you come out to our rental tonight. We can all make dinner together and catch up especially since I haven't seen you in months," said Nikki, matching Sammi's smirk.

"And whose fault is that, Nikki?" asked Tommy, chuckling at the glare he received. Sammi snickered but hid her smile behind her hands as Nikki faced her again.

"That sounds like a great idea, Nik. I would love that," smiled Sammi. It was like they were in their own little world again, where Nikki only knew Sammi. Vince didn't feel the massive sting of jealousy as before, only by a quarter of the feeling. Nevertheless, he had to admit it was nice to see Sammi happy as well as Nikki.

"I can pick you up from your hotel, Sam. Our place is basically in the middle of nowhere. It's by a small lake!" said Tommy.

"Well isn't that cute. I hope you four are ready for my cooking," teased Sammi, standing up from her seat as she noticed Bob about to walk into the room again. It was time to somewhat finish what the boys started, more vocals on Vince's behalf. Sammi just sat on the loveseat right behind Nikki with a happy smile on her face.

"Okay!" Bob clapped. "Let's get back to work!"

*

Sammi shouldn't have been surprised when she first laid eyes on Motley's rental house that appeared to be a country log cabin. It subtly screamed Nikki and his Idaho roots. A beautiful two-story log cabin in the middle of the green forest with a lake within walking distance. It was a fantastic little escape for the guys after a long day at the studio, calling this home for who knows how long. In the open space kitchen, Sammi and Tommy served the five plates ready for Sammi's food. Nikki set up the dining table with forks and knives, placing the guys' drink of choice. Without asking her, Nikki popped open a bottle of Sammi's favorite red wine and poured a glass for her. It didn't take much energy for Nikki to completely ignore the alcoholic drink. Vince and Tommy set the plates of food on top of each placemat while Mick put the garlic bread basket right in the middle. Everything smelled amazing.

"Okay! Are we all ready to eat?" asked Sammi, walking into the dining room, seeing Motley sat down like well-behaved children with Tommy leaving a spot right next to him. "I'll take that as a yes," Sammi said, sitting beside her brother.

It was a comfortable silence that filled the room. Only the sound being made was of forks hitting the plates that felt like music to Sammi's ears. Silent people eating was a compliment for Sammi.

"I forgot how great your cooking is, Sammi," said Vince, finally taking a breather as he sipped on his glass of water.

"It's just spaghetti with meatballs," snickered Sammi, looking over Tommy to see Vince.

"Yes but we are used to frozen meatballs and pregos spaghetti sauce," said Mick, mouth almost full of food.

Sammi shook her head, taking another bite of a meatball. She glanced over at Nikki right in front of her, smiling at how he ate in silence. "Nikki seems to love my food. His head has been down his plate the entire time." teased Sammi. Nikki only flipped Sammi off in a matter she knew was playful. Sammi notices her glass of wine, looking around the guys. She smelled it and took a sip, happy to know it's her favorite. "Did you pour me some wine, Tommy?" Tommy shook his head.

"I did," said Nikki. "I thought you would enjoy a nice glass of wine,"

"But-"

"Sam, you don't have to quit drinking just because we did," said Mick, patting Nikki on the back. Sammi didn't say anything else, taking another sip of her wine.

"So, Samantha, a little birdie told me you got your pharmacy license. How does it feel being a full time grown up?" asked Nikki, relaxing in his chair.

"I'm so happy I passed, I did not want to react that stupid exam. Now it's just interviews back in L.A," said Sammi.

"Finally settled in at your new place?" asked Tommy, finishing the last of his food.

"Yeah I just need to figure out what to put in the second room. I only have my San Francisco sofa,"

"I'm surprised you kept anything from that tiny place," said Vince. "This might sound so stupid but does a pharmist apply? All I can think of is Walgreens,"

"I am mainly aiming at the hospitals now that most have their own private pharmacy," answered Sammi, finishing the last drop of wine. "Oh! I almost forgot! I finally bought a new car! It's a mustang,"

"Hallelujah! She finally listened!" said Nikki, dropping his head back to pretend he was looking at God.

Sammi smirked and flipped him off. "Great to know you didn't leave your sarcasm at rehab,"

"Oh, I love family dinners!" exclaimed Tommy, being the first of a domino effect to rise from his seat to take his dirty plate to the kitchen. Mick and Vince soon left, leaving Nikki and Sammi alone. They stayed in silence, Sammi scratching her neck as she looked away from Nikki. Nikki kept his eyes on Sammi.

"Do you wanna go for a walk outside? I can show you the lake," asked Nikki. Sammi only nodded.

*

As Nikki and Sammi walked beside the stream, they still kept a fair distance between themselves, keeping a guard up. Compared to how they were only a moment ago, they couldn't speak to each other the same way in privacy. One of them had to break the wall first, but they didn't know who it would be or what they would say first.

"I'm sorry," said Sammi.

Nikki halted, scrunching his brows in deep 11's at Sammi. "What? You're sorry? For what?"

Sammi sat down on the dry grass, inching close to dip her finger in the cold lake water; Nikki sat beside her. "I started to think after the therapy session about how we started, and I realized I wasn't nice. It wasn't ideal to how a couple should start,"

"Sammi-"

"Just hear me out, please," said Sammi, biting her lip as she stared out into the water. "When I got with Vince I knew you had feelings for me, but I didn't do anything about it. I just ditched you and you have to admit that must've hurt, Nikki. Even if we got together in the end,"

Nikki sighed out, pulling out pieces of grass under his feet. "Yeah it did,"

"I should've never gotten with Vince right after we had sex for the first time, and I'm sorry I would go to you when Vince pissed me off, I shouldn't have done that either. I knew how much you cared about me and I still listened to Athena & Tommy. I should've just chosen for myself," said Sammi, finally looking at Nikki.

"Would you have gotten with Vince even if your siblings weren't in your ear?" asked Nikki.

"No… but I think I needed it. I needed that little heartbreak to learn," said Sammi.

"Thank you. I appreciate it, Sammi. I really do," said Nikki with a smile. Sammi sighed out, feeling the weight leave her shoulders.

"Also I'm so fucking sorry I called you by that name. I was just-"

"Sammi, again, I appreciate it," chuckled Nikki. Silence soon filled between them again.

"Hey, have you happened to have any 'demons' hit you up?" asked Sammi.

Nikki dryly chuckled. "If you mean my past drug buddies, only one. Veronica called me when I was in rehab,"

"Oh," said Sammi in straight monotone.

"Don't worry, she finally got the idea we're not getting married,"

"Hope she returned that fucking ring. What did she want?" asked Sammi.

Nikki smiled at Sammi, finding her jealousy amusing. "She said she almost overdosed a week before calling me, only to have her call me high off her ass. So I just wished her well and hung up. I couldn't handle that,"

"You sadly can't fix them all I guess," said Sammi sadly.

"I'm scared, Sam. I'm scared to go back to L.A," blurted out Nikki.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the same Nikki that left. I know I'm going to lose friends but what if I get home and find out I really had no one this whole time?" asked Nikki, looking down at the grass. "Then what do I do?"

Sammi swallowed away her nerves, inching closer to Nikki as she laid a gentle hand on his bicep. "Hey, look at me," said Sammi. Nikki turned, eye dilating from how close to Sammi for the first time. "You have people now who truly care about you and you alone. I can already see a better relationship between you and the guys," Sammi soon grew hesitant, looking away from Nikki for a second. "And you have me. That's all you need right now after finally getting better. Remember that," said Sammi, squeezing Nikki's arm.

It took all of Nikki's strength to not lean in and kiss Sammi but be a miracle he managed. "Thank you, Sammi. I appreciate it," said Nikki. Sammi rested on her knees and hugged Nikki the best way they could. Nikki leaned into her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

June 15th, 1988

A knock on the hard hotel door almost scares Sammi, jumping off her bed and softly tiptoeing to look through the peephole. When seeing Nikki appear anxious in the hallway, she swung the door open with worry.

"Nikki, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are the guys okay?" asked Sammi in one breath, lightly placing a hand on his chest. Nikki shook his head, walking right into the single bed hotel room.

"I, um, I just really needed to give you something before you go tomorrow," said Nikki, rubbing his fingers together in a nervous habit.

Sammi eyed Nikki, not downplaying scanning him from head to toe. "Okay but just know you're scaring me," said Sammi, sitting at the foot of the bed. Nikki stood right in front of Sammi, pulling out a cassette tape from his jean pocket. He gave it one last look before handing it to Sammi, not looking her in the eye. As Sammi took the cassette, she quickly noticed "Without You" written by Nikki on the front, scrunching her brows together.

"You can play this right when I leave," said Nikki, ready to walk right out of the room. Instead, Sammi took to hold onto his wrist.

"What the hell is going on? Why're you giving me the song Tommy wrote?" asked Sammi.

Nikki sighed. "Tommy didn't write it. I did. It's finally a love song I wrote that isn't disguised… and that's about us,"

"You wrote me a love song?" smiled Sammi. Nikki nodded with a blush on his cheeks. Sammi couldn't help it any longer, standing on the tips of toes, cradling Nikki's face as she leaned in for that kiss. A kiss so soft and kind, Nikki felt his heart burst out of his chest, afraid to kiss again.

"Thank you," whispered Sammi, a smile still on her lips. Nikki scoffed, matching a smile. "But I need to listen to this right now," Sammi said, darting straight to the radio on the desk table. Nikki didn't protest, only groaned as he dropped himself on the bed, hiding under a pillow. The song in its entirety was touching but more so for Sammi, paying deep attention to every lyric. Sammi took the cassette out when it finished, looking over at Nikki's body thrown on the bed. She stretched herself on the bed, taking the pillow off Nikki's face to see his deep red flush.

"I love you," said Sammi. Nikki looked up in shock at Sammi, lips parting as if he wanted to say something. But all he caught was another kiss from Sammi with more passion. The two fell almost into the same old routine, Nikki's hand caressing Sammi's hair, Sammi's hand on Nikki's clothed chest. As Sammi started to lower her hands, the feeling of excitement turned into anxiety for Nikki in a blink of an eye.

"Sammi," whispered Nikki, placing his hands on her shoulders, giving the distance between them.

"What's wrong?" asked Sammi. Nikki slowly sat up, wiping the sweat off his hands. He took a few deep breaths, not able to look in Sammi's direction. "Are you okay, Nikki?"

"Remember when I told you I was scared?" asked Nikki. Sammi nodded. "Being with you like this was in that same word," said Nikki, meeting Sammi's worried eyes. "I-I've never been sober and doing this… with you,"

"Not even a little sober?" asked Sammi.

"When I say I was dependent, I really mean it. I needed a bit of something to bring me nerves down,"

"Guess your shyness didn't go away either," joked Sammi, rubbing her finger softly on Nikki's cheek. "Nikki, I'm not going to pressure you to do anything you don't want to do,"

"And trust me I do. It's just what if I'm bad at everything I thought I was good at between us?"

"I don't think it works like that, sweetheart. But I still don't want you to feel pressured to sleep with me. We can just cuddle and fall asleep. It'll be okay," reassured Sammi.

Nikki smiled lovingly at Sammi, leaning in to kiss her softly. "I love you, Sammi Lee. I really do," whispered Nikki.

Sammi's cheeks flushed. "And I love you, Nikki Sixx," whispered Sammi, leaning her head on Nikki's shoulder.

"Come on, you have a flight in the morning," said Nikki, playfully pushing Samami down on the bed. As Nikki stood at the bed's foot to strip down to his boxers, Sammi got under the soft white covers. The two fell back into the routine of late-night tv and cuddles. Nikki having his arm securely around Sammi with her head laid on his bare chest. The feeling of calm security quickly engulfed the two after a long marathon of danger. It was perfect.

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[ashsblurbs]

Moving on

Life is weird. One second you are planning your whole life with one person. Imagining all of the possibilities. Then the next thing you know you are married to some other person for the last five years and you haven’t spoken to the person of the forgotten life in ten years. It’s weird but Tony often didn’t think about the forgotten man. He only came across the genius’s mind once and a while but cleaning out the closet was making him come back full force. Tony ran his fingers across the forgotten box. He knew he needed to get rid of the old memories for his sake. Pepper never pushed him to throw them away. She understood why he kept it but that didn’t mean Pepper didn’t wish they were gone. That he would move on. Tony was happy with his life so why was it so hard to throw this man away.

Steve laid flat on his back trying to catch his breath. After going four rounds with, Steve tried to remember the brunet’s name. Amy? Maybe? Steve rolled his eyes not really caring. All the names have blurred over the years which has gotten him in trouble once in a while. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about them; he gave every single one of his hookups gratitude, but the thing is they weren’t the ghost that haunted him every night. No one could replace him. Trust him, he tried. Steve desperately wanted to forget the man's late-night adventures and stolen kisses. Steve was in a few pretty stable and long-term relationships but each one couldn’t compare to him. So, Steve just gave up trying to replace him. Instead, Steve had a little fun. Some would say he was a playboy. He would say he never was playing a game. The rules were given upfront with no tricks. Steve pulled the girl closer into his arms as he began to be lost in thought.

Tony slowly opened the box wanting to relive the memories once again for the last time. He knew that it was time to say goodbye. Especially since his first child would be here any day. It was time to get rid of his past. Tony opens the box to see the photos, the letters, the jacket. Tony grabbed the jacket remembering the exact moment when he gave him this jacket. It was senior year of high school and it was the night before graduation. Tony was cold because he always was, so he wrapped his leather jacket around Tony’s shoulders. Then Tony never gave it back. He smiled to himself at that memory placing the jacket to the side. Then he picked up the stack of letters. Each one was harder and harder to read each time. Tony read each one with tears beginning to form.

“Wait, what are you talking about Steve? You’re trying to tell me you are going to start basic training in three days and then you are being shipped off to the Gulf. When did you decide all of this?” Steve came close rubbing both his hands up and down Tony’s arms trying to calm him down, but Tony backed away. Tony held his hands up trying to get some space to try to process what was being said.

'Steven, don’t. Please just explain. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to join? You know I would have supported you, but this is hard to process. You’re telling me I won’t be able to see you, touch you, talk to you for two years.” Tony tried to take a deep breath, but air wouldn’t come. His hands shook with fear for the man he loved. Tony fell to his knees unable to take the feeling of soul-crushing news anymore. Tears fell down his face as he sobbed. The feeling of strong arms wrapping around him helped him catch his breath, but the sobbing continued. He couldn’t imagine his world without Steve.

“Shhh. Shhh. It's going to be okay daring. I’m sorry for not telling you. I was afraid that you would try to talk me out of this. After watching the news, I knew I had to do something to help. Everyone else is why couldn't I.” Steve held Tony tight refusing to let go. Tony turned around looking at him in the eye searching for something, but all Tony saw was that he was serious. This was what Steve wanted. This was what Steve had to do. Tony took a deep breath and placed both hands on either side of Steve’s face and nodded his head.

“Okay.” Steve squinted his eyes not quite understanding what Tony meant.

“Okay?” Tony nodded.

“Okay. I understand. You need to do this, and I will support you in every way I know how to. Besides, it's only two years. It’s not that long.” Steve pulled Tony in for a kiss. He didn’t know how he could have been so lucky to find the love of his life. Tony was the best thing in life.

They say two years isn’t a long time. You blink and it's over. They were wrong. This had been the longest two years of Tony’s life. Yeah, they had the occasional phone calls. They wrote to each other every day. But when special things came up, it made Tony feel really alone. Christmas didn’t exist, birthdays either, or anniversaries. It was okay because Steve was coming home, and Tony had everything set up for the best date they have had in a long time. Tony even had a surprise.

“Flight 219 has landed. Your soldiers are coming home.” Tony held a sign up saying welcome home Captain Rogers. He bounced from one foot to another unable to stay in one spot. His man was finally coming home.

As each soldier was reunited with their family Tony was still standing alone. Where was Steve? Right as he asked that question his soldier was walking towards him. Tony dropped the sign and ran straight into his arms. Steve gathered him tight, kissing him hard. Missing the taste of Tony and his touch.

“I missed you so much,” Steve said around tears. He blinked not realizing how much he was crying. He was just glad to be home for now.

“Me too.” Tony sniffled. Tony kissed him again never wanting to forget him.

Tony and Steve laid in bed after their wonderful “date”. They skipped the food and went straight to dessert. Tony placed his head next to Steve’s heart listening to the rhythm. Steve kissed the top of his head. Tony smiled knowing this was a perfect time to ask a question he knew was crazy to ask but he truly was in love.

“Hey, Steve, do you want to get married ?” Steve continued playing with his hair not missing a beat.

“Yeah, sure one day. In a couple of years so I can save some money up to give you the perfect wedding you deserve.” Tony liked the idea even though he could go down to the courthouse and get married. Tony sat up and lean over Steve to grab a silver ring from the drawer.

“Here promise me you will.” Steve gave Tony a smug looked.

“I promise.” Steve kissed Tony one more time; then closed his eyes.

The wedding never came instead two more tours happened. Tony didn’t know if he could do this anymore. He missed Steve all the time and he was so worried that he would one day get the message of someone saying the love of his life would never be coming back. Tony sat at his desk finishing up some paperwork when he got a knock on his door. He laid down his pen not knowing who was at the door. Tony opened the door to find two military men standing in his doorway. His legs began to shake, and tears welled in his eyes. No, it couldn’t be he thought his worst nightmare had became true.

“Mr. Tony Stark?” Tony shook his head yes. “We just want to let you know Captain Rogers was in a helicopter accident. He and his crew went down after several shots being fired at them. We regret to inform you.”

“No! He promised me he wouldn’t die over there. No.” Tony pleaded.

“No, Mr. Stark, he is not dead, but he is severally injured and will be coming home early. He has had several surgeries already, but he will need several weeks of physical therapy. We just want to warn you. He might not be the same.”

They were right. This man that came home wasn’t his Steve. First physical therapy was rough. Steve would get so frustrated some days that he would lash out at Tony. Tony knew it wasn’t towards him or about him. Steve was struggling with being himself again. Then there were the nightmares. Those scared Tony the most. Tony did his best with confronting Steve and bringing him back from the darkness, but Tony was no therapist. Tony would try to get Steve to open up and talk but Steve often would say he was fine. He promised that when he was ready, he would. Tony respected his boundaries, but it hurt so much to watch the person you love suffer so much. With everything Tony tried to be supportive until he got the slap in the face of a lifetime.

“No, I’m putting my foot down this time Steve. You can’t do another especially after this one.” Tony scowled.

“Tony, I’m fine. Plus, this is my job. This is the only thing I know.” Steve said. Tony shook his head and took a deep breath so as not to yell. No point in getting into a screaming match.

“Steve, you are more than the military. Also, after this tour, you didn’t come back the same. You got hurt this time. What if you don’t make it this time around. I don’t think I can bear the thought of losing you. Please we can find you another job.” Tony pleaded. Steve shook his head no.

“I’m sorry, Tony, but I have to do this. I have to do this for me.” Steve step closer but Tony just stepped back. They stood still staring into one another’s eyes. Wishing they could read each other’s mind as they use to so many years ago.

“What about me? If you reenlist. I’m done.” Tony whispered.

“You know I love you right and I would do anything for you.” Tony knew this. He knew this from day one since they got together as high school freshmen. “But I can’t not reenlist, so I guess this a goodbye.” Steve choked out. He didn’t want to leave Tony. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, but he had to go back in. He had unfinished business.

“I guess it is.” Tony sobbed out. Tony closed his eyes as the tears ran down. Steve turned around leaving, knowing he couldn’t stay here anymore. He closed the door behind him. He stood in the hall fiddling with the ring around his neck.

“Hey, want to go another round.” The girl stroked a finger up and down his chest trying to get his attention. Steve continued fiddling with the ring around his next that he hadn’t taken off in ten years and he never will.

“Um, Amy,” Steve said.

“It’s Abby,” Abby said offended.

“Yeah, whatever. This was fun but it’s time for you to go.” She huffed stomping out with all of her stuff in her hands. She slammed the door behind her causing the apartment to shake but that didn’t really faze Steve. He stared up at the ceiling rethinking his whole life.

Tony looked at the picture of him with the ghost. It was right after the first tour. Tony shook his head knowing that he couldn’t have done anything to stop him from chasing whatever he lost in the desert so many years ago.

“Hey, the food will be here soon.” Pepper stopped in the door seeing what Tony was doing. Pepper just gestured at the mess but not questioning anything. Tony gathered all the stuff up and threw it in the trash.

“Are you sure?” Pepper questioned.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I should have done that years ago. That was my past, you are my present and this little one.” Tony bent down holding Pepper’s stomach. “Is my future and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tony kissed her knowing this was the happiness he wanted and always dreamed of.

#stony #stevetony #SUPERHUSBANDS #ash's blurbs

[fandomfanfics12]

Home Lives With You-Part 9

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 9/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: Sorry for dropping off of the face of the Earth! I had a lot of assignments due and it’s currently exam season for me so i’ve tried to focus my attention on school! Also my laptop broke for a short while so i had to get that fixed. Again sorry for the wait and this is kinda long lol. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Steve bounced his knee up and down, the nerves rattled through his chest. He had always hated this lobby, had hoped he’d never have to come back here. But Tony had taken the morning off to drive Steve to work himself, had insisted that Steve come here even when Steve’s heart was up in his throat.

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Steve whispered and his husband stopped flicking through a magazine to look at Steve.

“Honey we’ve gone over this, I’m not mad. Well I am, but not for the reasons that you’re thinking of.” Tony said softly and Steve inhaled sharply.

“What can I do to fix it?” he whispered and Tony let out a chuckle. Steve’s chest tightened, he didn’t want to worry Tony, didn’t want Tony to be mad.

“I’m mad that you got the Peter hug.” He said and poked his tongue out. And just like that, the knot in Steve’s chest loosened and his internal world calmed down a little. He wasn’t actually angry, it was just his competitive streak. Just like he had been when trying to get Morgan to call him dad first.

“Was there anything else that made you mad?” Steve asked and Tony shook his head, leaning forward and briefly pressing his lips against Steve’s.

“No and I want you to stop worrying alright?” Tony whispered and Steve nodded, pressing his nose against Tony’s and rubbing it gently, Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and Steve grinned.

“Alright.” He whispered and Tony nodded.

“Its you and I against this remember? Not me against you.” Tony whispered and Steve nodded, the sound of heels on the floor approaching letting them know that their time was up.

“I’ll make us some chicken and vegetables for dinner?” Steve asked and Tony nodded, standing with him.

“I’ll be at the office late so put mine in the microwave, tell Pete he can call me if he gets stuck with his work alright?” Steve nodded his head, the words barely registered.

“Alright.” Steve said and then his therapist was in sight, her hair shorter than Steve remembered.

“I’ll see you tonight.” And then Tony’s hand slipped out of Steve, leaving him completely alone to face his demons.

-

Peter tried to keep his head down low as he headed to the parking lot. His mind was racing with worry-was Steve okay? The question had plagued him all day, and he was looking forward to finally getting the answer. He just had to get to the car.

“Peter!” the car was in sight, Peter sped up, the door opened and Morgan jumped out. She was in a pair of kid-sized overalls and ran straight to him, wrapping her arms around Peter’s legs.

“Are you alright little miss?” Peter asked as he squatted down to her height.

“Can we make chocolate chip cookies today?” she asked, her eyes wide and worried. Peter chuckled, relief washed over him that she was alright. He hoped that he’d still be able to see and talk to Morgan when he moved on to the next foster home. After all, his residence in the Stark-Rogers household really was only temporary. They would be getting rid of Peter as soon as they could, but maybe he could still talk to Morgan after that?

“is that okay with your parents?” Peter asked and she nodded, a grin split open on her face.

“Yes! Daddy said I could as long as you watched!” she giggled, her tiny hands reached for Peter’s.

“Alright little miss, I’ll supervise.” Her eyes lit up and Peter’s heart squeezed, she was too adorable for her own good.

“Peter?” there was that voice again, Peter turned and saw MJ, standing before him and smiling softly at Morgan.

“MJ?” he shot up so he was standing again and a small smile graced her lips.

“I was wondering if I could copy the notes you took today in Chem? I had a doctor’s appointment.” She explained and Peter nodded his head, digging through his pockets for his phone.

“yeah, sure, put your number in and I’ll text them to you. is everything alright?” he glanced back to the car where Steve was patiently waiting and his heart hammered inside of his chest. He shouldn’t take too long, and he really did want to know how Steve was doing.

“oh yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking!” MJ pressed a few buttons on the phone and then handed it back to him, Morgan tugged on Peter’s hand.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Morgan asked and Peter squeezed his eyes shut, MJ just laughed.

“No little Miss, come on.” Peter tugged on Morgan’s hand but she just stared up at MJ.

“Why not? She’s really pretty.” Peter wanted to disappear, how was this happening to him?

“Let’s go make those cookies huh? Plus your dad is waiting.” Morgan finally nodded, moving to follow Peter. He didn’t dare look back at MJ, his heart hammered inside of his chest. How was he ever going to look her in the eye again?

“Hey Pete, how was school?” Steve asked, a smile on his face. Peter searched for any visible signs that something was wrong, but couldn’t find anything. If anything, Steve seemed more relaxed.

“Fine, how was your day Mr Stark-Rogers?” Peter asked, Steve simply shrugged.

“I had a great day Pete, who was that girl?” Steve asked, Peter turned his head towards the window.

“just a girl from class, are you sure it’s alright for Morgan and I to make cookies?” Steve nodded his head.

“Yeah, but I have one condition.” Peter’s head snapped back to Steve and his stomach churned. Steve’s face was serious, the smile gone.

“Yeah?” Peter asked, slowly curling his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms.

“I get to eat some.” Steve said at last and Peter let out a long deep exhale.

“Oh, of course, absolutely.” Morgan giggled from the back and Steve smiled, Peter uncurled his hands. This was fine, this was good. He let out several deep breaths and knew that it didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. Soon enough they were in the driveway and Peter was getting out of the car.

“hey Pete?” Peter froze, hand on the doorhandle.

“Yes Mr Stark-Rogers?” Peter asked, he stared straight ahead.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a little…on edge.” Peter relaxed and looked to Steve. He truly did care, he really was a good parent. But he wasn’t Peter’s parent.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking though.” Steve narrowed his eyes ever so slightly but nodded his head.

“Alright, I’ll be in the living room if someone gets a little too hyper.” Peter smiled and nodded and finally exited the car.

“Come on!” Morgan cried and Peter nodded, following her inside.

-

Tony was increasingly growing exhausted as the hours grew later and later. He was supposed to have started heading home twenty minutes ago, but he was still nowhere near done with his workload. He glanced at his phone and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Steve would be mad if he stayed back at the office too late, but Tony couldn’t let Hammer’s numbers beat him. Not after what happened at Fury’s birthday. He needed to remind his boss that Tony was still the best. It was at that moment that the phone rang.

“Tony Stark-Rogers, how may I help you?” Tony said, the words tumbled out automatically.

“Still at the office then?” Steve’s voice murmured and Tony sighed.

“Would you be mad if I stayed back for an extra hour or two?” at that, Steve sighed.

“you’re overdoing it honey.” Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m fine, seriously Stevie. I’m just a little further behind than I thought.” Tony lied, he drummed his fingers on the desk and counted the seconds between his words and another one of Steve’s prolonged sighs.

“Morgan and Peter made cookies.” Tony smiled, but he didn’t move away from his desk.

“that’s good.” The whole office building was dark except for Tony’s office, everyone else had gone home to their families and partners. Everyone but Tony.

“do you really have to stay back?” Steve asked after a long pause and Tony found himself nodding. It took him a moment too long to realise that he was on the phone and Steve couldn’t actually see him. Tony cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Tony said and Steve chuckled.

“You don’t need to make it up to me, your job is important.” Tony cringed, regretting calling in the first place. Wishing he had just gone home.

“how was therapy?” Tony asked before Steve could hang up the phone.

“Fine.” And then the line went dead.

“Fuck.” Tony groaned, dropping the phone on his desk and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He took several deep breaths and then straightened. He had work to do, he would make it up to Steve later.

-

Steve didn’t want to be angry with Tony, but he was ninety percent sure that Tony didn’t actually need to stay back at work. But then he wasn’t one to argue with Tony about his job, especially not after what he’d done at his boss’ birthday.

“When’s daddy coming home?” Morgan asked as she tugged on Steve’s sleeve, drawing his attention down to her.

“He’s going to be a while longer.” She frowned.

“Like last year?” she asked and Steve shook his head, pulling her up and into his chest.

“Not like last year, alright? how are those cookies coming along?” Steve carried her to the kitchen where baking pan after baking pan contained dozens of cookies.

“We made a lot Mr Stark-Rogers.” Peter said, his cheeks tinged pink. Steve just grinned, placed Morgan on the ground and picked up a cookie. He bit into it and moaned, they were perfect. Crunchy on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside.

“these are amazing.” Steve said and Peter’s face lit up.

“Really?” Steve nodded and reached for a second one.

“We’ll have to triple check that all the doors are locked from the cookie monster tonight.” Morgan gasped and Steve winked at Peter.

-

Peter was so relieved that the cookies had turned out well. Relieved that Steve wasn’t made at the amount of cookies that they had made. But he was disappointed that Tony wasn’t going to be coming home anytime soon. Peter also noticed that even though Steve was pretending to be calm and relaxed, his body was tense. Different to how he’d been just twenty minutes earlier. It dawned on Peter that they had had an argument. He looked down at his phone, the screen lit up from a text from MJ.

Thanks Peter.

He drew his attention back to Steve, his brows furrowed together in worry for the older man.

“Pete?” Steve asked softly and Peter forced his eyes down. It was rude to stare.

“You don’t have to answer sir, I was just wondering if everything was alright with your husband?” Peter forced the words out and the room fell silent.

“Princess why don’t you go play with your dolls?” Steve asked and she nodded, took a cookie and then raced out of the room. Peter’s stomach twisted and churned, he shouldn’t have asked. He’d overstepped the boundaries of this house, they would get rid of him now.

“Tony likes to be the best in his field, which I support and encourage. He likes to challenge himself, and feels compelled to do better each month.”

“So he stayed late because he doesn’t think he’s the best?” Peter asked and Steve shook his head.

“I think he knows that his numbers are the best, but he’s paranoid that they aren’t. he’s a bit of a perfectionist.” Steve explained and Peter nodded, picked at a loose thread on his hoodie and then looked back up at Steve.

“should we go get him then?” at that, Steve’s brows rose.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I can tell that you’re really worried about him and Morgan made some comment that tells me this is something your husband struggles with. Does it get really bad?” Steve nodded his head.

“Yeah, it can do. I was going to talk to him about it when he got home.”

“so let’s go get him. Remind him that the numbers aren’t as important as he thinks.” Steve smiled softly.

“Yeah, alright.” And it seemed like a breath of relief for Steve to say those words. Peter couldn’t help but grin, this was good. He knew Steve was worried, really worried.

“Cool, I’ll go get Morgan.” Peter said and walked away, glad that he’d done something right. helped this family rather than hindered it. he’d been useful, not just a burden.

-

Morgan was propped on Steve’s hip, Peter at his side and Steve watched the numbers light up as the elevator travelled upwards. The building was dark and quiet, eerie. Which was just a sign that it was time for Tony to come home, he shouldn’t work like this. finally the elevator stopped and the doors opened and they stepped out into a well lit hall.

“This place is really fancy Mr Stark-Rogers.” Peter said and Steve nodded his head. Every time Steve came to the office, he was reminded of just how ornate and rich the people that Tony worked with were. Reminded Steve of just how much he didn’t fit in Tony’s life. At the end of the hall they turned left and there was only one office with a light on. Steve reached his hand out, fingers just about ready to grasp the knob when there was a noise.

A giggle.

Steve’s entire arm seized up and he recoiled from the door. Took a step back and stared at the wood.

“Don’t stop.” A voice that was completely unfamiliar to Steve groaned and Peter’s head whipped towards Steve.

“Mr Stark-Rogers?” Peter whispered and Steve’s mind was racing, Tony wouldn’t dare. There was no way, he’d never be so cruel, so callous. Tony loved Steve too much to ever do this, loved their family and their life too much to do this. he was too good a man to ever do such a thing.

“Steve?” Steve turned and walking towards him, not in his office, was Tony. Every muscle in Steve’s body relaxed and relief crashed into him. Thank god. He pulled his husband in with his free arm and brought his lips down to Tony’s. but when Steve pulled back Tony was frowning.

“what are you doing here?” he asked, looking between them all.

“We came to take you home, you’re working too hard.” Steve said and Tony tilted his head.

“This isn’t like last year honey.” Tony promised and Steve shrugged.

“Peter was the one who convinced me to come get you, and I’m glad that he did.” Steve explained and Tony glanced at the kid who suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Alright, you’re right. let’s go home.” Tony said and Steve relaxed, then glanced back at the office door.

“Who’s in there?” Steve asked, unable to quiet the anxieties in his head. Tony scrunched his nose up in disdain as he looked at the door.

“Hammer.” Tony said with a frown.

“Isn’t that your office?” Steve asked and Tony snorted as they began to walk away.

“Stevie my office is at the other end of the hall. You turned left instead of right.” oh. Steve felt like the world’s biggest idiot and felt his cheeks turn red.

“Oh.” Tony let out a giggle that melted Steve’s heart, how did he get so lucky? And how could he have ever doubted Tony?

“so I heard you kids made some cookies?”

-

Snuggled into Steve’s chest, Tony felt like all was right in the world. Just upstairs were the kids who were sleeping soundlessly. Steve flicked through the channels with a slight frown.

“What are you looking for?” Tony asked, wishing that Steve would just enjoy their quiet evening. But then Steve’s face broke out into a broad grin, and it set Tony’s body on fire. Steve turned his head and brushed his lips against the top of Tony’s head and Tony turned, just as the beginning of one of his all-time favourite movies started to play.

“Pretty Woman?” Tony asked and Steve nodded, his smile slowly faded.

“You still love this movie, right?” Tony nodded, as if he could ever grow tired of this movie.

“Yeah.” He whispered, but he wasn’t looking at the screen. Tony was too busy studying Steve’s profile, all the lines and curves of his face. The slope of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, the crease between his brows.

“Stop staring.” Steve said and a nervous smile spread over his lips, Tony chuckled but didn’t look away. A blush crept over Steve’s cheeks, turning them red and he turned to look at Tony. Steve had the prettiest eyes known to man. Tony felt himself leaning closer and closer, and Steve’s eyes fluttered shut. a mischievous twinge in Tony’s personality forced him to turn last second and licked up the side of Steve’s face. Steve let out a harsh and loud shriek, he jerked back and Tony tilted his head up as laughter bubbled out of him.

“Tony!” Steve cried, but it was swallowed up by his own fit of laughter as he wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him into Steve’s lap.

“Yes honey?” Tony asked and batted his eyelashes.

-

It was moment’s like this that reminded Steve why he could never love anyone else ever again. Moments when he looked into Tony’s large and soft brown eyes and his heart was sent into overdrive.

“Your eyes are so pretty.” Steve whispered because Tony needed to be reminded of just how pretty his eyes were. Steve’s husband looked away bashfully, ran a hand through his hair and then looked back to Steve.

“You’re a dork Mr Stark-Rogers.” Tony whispered and Steve cupped the side of Tony’s face.

“We’re okay, right?” he whispered because Steve needed the reassurance that he wasn’t about to lose Tony. Tony truly was Steve’s entire world, and Steve never wanted to live in a world where he couldn’t hold his husband like this.

“Better than okay.” Tony whispered before crashing his lips against Steve’s. Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s ass and he squeezed ever so slightly. Tony moaned into his mouth and his fingers fisted in Steve’s hair. Steve began to slide his hands up and down along Tony’s back, tracing his fingers along the bottom of his shirt. Finally Tony pulled back for air and Steve smiled dazedly up at him.

“you okay?” he whispered a little breathlessly and Tony nodded.

“Let’s just watch the movie.” He whispered and Steve nodded but Tony didn’t move.

“Something wrong honey?” Steve asked with a smirk and once again Tony’s lips came against Steve’s, bringing them closer together.

“Thank you for forcing me to come home.” He whispered against Steve’s lips and Steve chuckled.

“We’ve got to start taking better care of ourselves.” At that, Tony tipped his head back and laughed.

“deal.” He said and looked down at Steve with the softest smile. Steve returned it, relief flooded him in knowing that they’d get through this. he brushed his lips against Tony’s once more and then Tony moved off of Steve’s lap and curled up beside him again.

“I love this movie.” He mumbled and Steve chuckled. One day they’d be old and grey and they’d curl up on the couch just like this and watch pretty woman and Steve would still be just as in love with Tony as he was right in this very moment.

  @smallnjh @picklepotatoe13 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine @meyamoadriytu @loveliestdisappointment

#stony #stony fic #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fluff #avengers angst #stony fluff #stony angst #superfamily #superhero #superhusbands #superfamily fluff #superfamily angst #tony stark #tony stark rogers #Steve Rogers #steve stark rogers #Iron Man #captain america #peterparker #morgan stark #morgan stark rogers #peter stark rogers #home lives with you fic #spiderman

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 20

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19

Happy New Year!!!!!! Here’s a party and a hot guy loving on you - and you don’t even have to leave your home ;)

I haven’t been to many therapist offices after I started high school. This one was free, on student-life. Reproduced images of the sea were comforting enough, but it was the dreary stained carpet that reminded me where I was. 

“Do you think they’re related to the night you were assaulted?” 

“Yes. But I don’t know how to get rid of them. I lose sleep and then when I do sleep, I have these nightmares and I wake up more restless than if I’d just stayed up all night.” 

 “Hm. And how do you feel about Harry?” 

 “Harry?” 

 She nodded. “Yes, the boy in your dreams.” Her French manicured nails squeezed the top of her clipboard.

 “That’s not an easy question.” 

 “Try.” 

 I sighed. “Okay…” The painted seagull in her office looked like an on-clearance print at TJ Maxx, and suddenly I wished I’d called my mother for her own version of therapy instead. Bargain shopping. “I think I hate him. But then I know I don’t. But then… I don’t necessarily like him either.” 

 “Do you love him?” 

I laughed. “No, I don’t love him.”

 “Why do you laugh?”

 “I said I almost hated him and you ask me if I love him!” But my voice was a little too loud. The question stayed with me, stirring in my mind. “I think I’d know if I loved him.” 

 “Love looks different to different people. Finding a healthy version of love for yourself and your partner is where things can go awry. Or right.” 

 I remembered Harry and I talking at Alta about Madame Bovary, and how I’d told him that people love to the best of their abilities, from what they’ve learnt by their circumstances. Silence weighed in the room, and I knew she was waiting for me to elaborate on my feelings. Bleh.

 “I don’t know,” I finally said. “But if this is what love looks like to him… We’re not even technically dating so this question doesn’t even apply!” I laughed again. “But then… even if we were, then...  it’s not enough.” 

 “And what would be enough for you?”

 “Stability.” 

 “And do you think this is possible with him?” 

 “Umm…” Zayn’s voice popped in my head - Harry was a magnet for infamy - and I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed...“No.”

 “And why is that?” 

 “Because he self-sabotages. And he says things he doesn’t mean.” 

 “Such as...?”

 A puff of breath left my lips. “Like last night, he said I didn’t have a life. And then he was comparing me to another girl. Viv. She’s like his… sister, basically. She grew up with him. But… he got really defensive and said at least she fucks me. But the fact that he said I don’t have a life?? A LIFE?? I mean shit, it’s not my fault he’s infiltrated my dreams is it?” 

 She shook her head. “It’s very important for you not to blame yourself. Show yourself the same kindness you’d show your friends. Renny, for example.” 

 Be kind to yourself. 

 I nodded. Those were the words my mother would say whenever I’d critique myself. Just like all those times before, the words registered, but it didn’t change anything about the frustration I felt. I was the one dumb enough to let him in. I’d let myself be dragged into him, even with every red flag hitting me in the face. I was collecting them for a meme bouquet at this point!

 “Do you believe him?” she asked. 

 It took me a minute to hear her. 

 “The words he said to you,” she said. “That you don’t have a life.” 

 A timer beeped on her phone. She muted it. “I’d like you to write out what you want in your life for next time. Not what anybody else wants. But what Y/N wants. When you see it written out, no matter how silly it seems, having concrete answers might help.”

 --------------

 I was staring at my notes page, trying to think of what I wanted. I didn’t exactly have the chance to ask her what she meant by that. Did she mean career goals? Education goals? Relationship goals? What did this have to do with ending my nightmares? 

 A text at the top of my phone distracted me from the blank page. 

 Kiki: “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you. Get your hands on the special airhead pills from Harry’s and bring them to the DG Pretty Please Party next week. On the DL obvi.”  

Viv chimed in on the group chat. “Congrats bitch! It’ll be fun for all of us.” She included the devil emoji. 

 This is what I got for stalling up until the last minute to walk into work. The practice was now a blatant reminder that Harry was out of my life and it didn’t help whenever I saw Lionel. It felt weird that I was seeing his dad more than him. Wrong, even. 

 Voices carried through the lot along with the clicking of heels. I turned my head. 

 Boss Lady Samantha was headed towards the elevator. 

 Shit, Y/N. Shit shit shit.

 I got out, quietly closing the door. Better to walk with my boss than walk in late after her, right? Her red hair was let down today, ringlet curls in full effect. I could meet her at the elevator before it arrived.

 But right when I was about to shout out hold the elevator Lionel walked right behind her. And I mean RIGHT behind her - there was hardly room for a Bible between them. 

 I hid behind my car, unsure if I was supposed to be seeing this. 

 Their voices were too low to hear, but his arm lingered at her lower back before the elevator opened. She got in. Alone. Lionel looked over his shoulder and I ducked further. 

 Through Grandpa’s windows, I saw the elevator door close. Lionel waved goodbye to Samantha and he pressed the button again. 

 Before chickening out, my shoulders straightened. I shouldn’t have to be the one hiding. I jogged to make it. His brows shot up in surprise as he held the elevator for me. The kindness I’d gotten used to seeing in his eyes looked hesitant this time. 

 “A little late today?” he asked, as soon as I’d made it in. 

 I avoided his eyes, nodded.  It was a quiet elevator ride. 

 ------------

 My family’s house was a ten minute drive from the practice. Enough drive time to sit on what I’d seen outside Coast Shores Medicine. It could’ve been friendly. I didn’t have to do anything about this. But in my bones, I knew that friendly isn’t what I’d seen. Lionel avoided me the rest of the day, assigning me to print out billing statements. I hadn’t seen them make out or anything, but there was a certain intimacy I couldn’t write off right away. Did Mrs. de Saude know about his close work relationships? Did Harry? 

 The sickening uneasiness dissipated when I heard my parent’s Home Improvement HGTV hour. Dad was already passed out on the couch, snoring at a whopping 8 PM when I walked through the door. Ignoring Mom’s tutting of “they keep you too late,” we went to my bedroom. 

 “Pick the nude ones,” Mom said, adjusting the spectacles she only pulled out on rare occasions (magazine reading and shoe selections). “It makes your legs look longer.” It looked like there was something more she wanted to say. 

 I adjusted them in the mirror, wearing the blush dress I’d bought for my aunt’s beach wedding almost a year prior. It’d never been worn. Her Spanish fiancé she’d met three months prior stole her TV set and ran off with his gay lover a week before. As I stood, the dress just barely touched the floor. Simple, really, but the way the thin straps exposed my chest rendered it elegant. I felt like I needed a long cigarette and fur coat to make it complete.  

 Without context, Mother suddenly burst into an annoyed huff. 

 “You okay?” I asked.

 “Hm?” Her lashes fluttered as if she hadn’t realized she’d made a noise. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Your father just took another one of those sleeping pills. You should never get too dependent on medication, Y/N. Drink warm milk or something.”

 “Mom.”

 “I’m serious!” Her stony face certainly wasn’t comical. 

 “I know.”

 She looked me over in the dress again and caught herself, pulling me in for a rushed hug. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rocked me a little. “It’s just been a little rough this week.” She squeezed me tighter, then let me go. All negative energy shoved into a box that’d spring open when we all least expected it. “Have a good night tonight. Say hello to Harry for me!”

 When I walked to the car she threw out, “And tell him next time he can ask you with a Cartier ring! HA! I’m joking!! ... Kind of!!!” 

 I smiled, waving to her at the gate as I got into my Grandpa mobile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Golden Boy wasn’t my date.  

 ---------

There were two cops for every solo cup I could see littered on the ground. They patrolled the streets, but the frat house seemed unphased and restored to its former glory as I walked with Andre. Club music pounded beyond the doors, practically shaking the windows. Girls huddled up outside, holding each other’s hair back and trying to block anyone’s view from the bile, as the guys snickered over their shoulders and some pretended not to see. But the cops weren’t here to reprimand for underage drinking and public intoxication tonight. They were on watch. Stationed around the perimeter of the house and on either end of the street. 

 They were waiting for something else. For somebody else. 

 Andre seemed oblivious, practically skipping past them he was so excited. I, on the other hand, was already limping from the nude pumps. 

 “Wanna switch shoes?” he called back. 

 “Don’t make a deal you aren’t willing to keep,” I smiled, quirking a brow. “The nude would actually match your navy suit…”

 He’d already walked on, fist bumping the bouncer who raised up a professional-grade camera and snapped a photo of us. When my eyes recovered from the flash, I spotted Officer Ramirez from the uniforms just beyond the frat’s ramshackle fence. He was already watching me. He raised two fingers above his brow and I nodded, curtly, even though I wanted to shrink inside myself. I hadn’t had the time to think about what I would say if he contacted me again, or if I should be the one to reach out to him.

 Andre led me inside, and for once, I was glad I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. It raised ten degrees just from stepping inside. The boys were in Bond suits, but most had abandoned their jackets wherever they could - on the banister, the couch beneath the staircase, or the entrance hall. The girls had dressed up, too. This was the most covered up I think I’d seen some of them, though others still opted for above-the-knee slips.

 “Oi, where’s your drink?!” Niall’s familiar voice shouted above the bass.

 He pulled Andre into a side hug before we reached the dancefloor. When he saw me, Niall practically fell over. 

 “Y/N! What’re you doing here?” He spluttered, whiskey in his breath. The knot of his tie was already to his chest, but he loosened it even more. He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “Renny’s just gone to the bathroom.” 

 “She’s my date,” Andre stepped in, placing an arm around my shoulder. It was completely platonic but Niall’s face went to stone. 

 Suddenly it cracked, and he laughed, running a hand over his stubbly chin. “Oh, shit.” He laughed again. “Shit!” 

 Andre smiled, unaware of anything else besides the fact that Niall must be proud he showed up with a date. He patted Niall’s shoulder. “We’re going to see the big bro, I’ll find you later.” Andre nodded his head for me to follow, leaving Niall cackling to himself in the entranceway.

 “Niall’s THE. MAN,” he put his hands up for emphasis. “He’s my favorite in the house besides my big. We gotta say hi, then you can run off. Oh, Renny’s here too!” He squeezed my shoulders as if to excite me, as if she’d be the reason I’d stay. Loved the girl, but I knew she’d be back on top of Niall five minutes after she was out. I just didn’t want to have to watch. 

 I wrung my hands together, growing nervous. I knew the reason Niall had reacted that way was because Harry was going to be here. I knew this coming into it. But I’d been expecting him to ignore me the entire night. With Niall’s reaction, I wasn’t so sure anymore. What had Harry told Niall?

 Someone sloshed their beer on me as I passed, and I turned sour, rolling my eyes as Andre pushed us forward. I picked up the pace before he could notice I’d stopped and wiped the glare off my face. Or, tried. I probably just looked constipated now. 

 WHY WAS HIDING EMOTION SO HARD?? 

 I felt bad feeling so annoyed. Andre was excited. I should be excited, right? Sloshed beer and sweaty bodies came with the territory. Though I’d forgotten how humid it got in here. Hell and Florida were probably cooler. I picked up the ends of my dress, hoping for some sort of ventilation to reach parts of me that were on the verge of overheating. 

 The coffee tables and couches had been moved from the center of the living room to the fringes beneath the stairwell to make designated smoking and dancing sections. I could’ve stayed on the outside of the dance crowd. Hell, I could’ve joined the spaced-out smokers on the couch. But I didn’t. I followed Andre to the middle of the dance floor. I could barely see above the tops of people’s heads until we reached a bit of a clearing. And by clearing, I meant the sweaty dancers in front of us who made a break for freedom and gave us about ten seconds of space before other bodies rushed to fill it. 

 I felt him before I saw him. A tiny prick of consciousness that directed my gaze. And Andre’s finger.

 “AYYYY!!!!!” Andre pointed to the DJ booth, waving his hands as he hollered.

 Even with the rocking vibration of the bass that chattered my teeth, each nerve in my body went alert. Harry stood, flashing a white smile to the crowd before downing the rest of whatever potion was in his cup. I hated how my stomach clenched just by seeing him. He saw Andre and his smile grew, grabbing the mic. I was still unnoticed, hidden by dim lighting and nameless peers.

 “Who’s ready for us to win tomorrow!?” His voice was low, demanding. It was a question for the crowd, but he was looking at Andre. I could sense the intensity even there, and it was then I realized it couldn’t be just me who feels so vulnerable around Harry. Each person he traps in his gaze stays there, until he lets them go. 

 The house erupted in cheers, but I was locked in place. The suit he was wearing looked similar to the one from the Halloween gala, and every bit of him looked just as stunning. His beautiful body swayed on the makeshift stage. 

 “Then let’s see you jump in-” His hand held up 5, 4, 3, 2… He spun another song and the crowd sprung from the floor before crashing back down. They jumped to the beat he made. A modern-day puppet master. 

 Andre wrapped an arm around me as he jumped. So I did, too. 

 “That’s my big!!” he yelled, mid-air.

 “WHAT??”

 He pointed to the DJ booth, but there was no one there besides Harry. 

 “.... HARRY??! HARRY’S YOUR- your…” I stopped jumping the same second Harry saw us together. It’s funny. It takes only a second to flip a dime on its head. His party boy mask dropped in an instant. The low lighting turned his eyes black, but they couldn’t conceal the daggers he shot straight at me.

 “I have to use the bathroom,” I muttered. 

 Andre nodded. “S’UP THE STAIRS!” He found a friend nearby and latched on to him instead. 

 The small (okay, medium) part of me filled with nothing but Petty™ wanted Harry to see me with his little. But another part of me couldn’t handle his judgmental glare. Somehow, I was embarrassed. I didn’t want him to think I’d come here tonight to make him jealous. That I was so obsessed with him I’d found another in to the frat. I didn’t want him to think he controlled any part of my heart. What did it say that I ran away at first sight, though?

 I’d already done it. It didn’t matter. Either way, I didn’t win.

 I raced upstairs, weaving my way between couples sitting on the stairs, hoping that the line for the restroom was really long and Renny hadn’t already left. It was, and she was next in line. 

 “Oh my God, what are you doing here?!” she screeched, arms out and eyes squinted until I could no longer see her pupil. 

 “Why do people keep asking me that.” 

 She pulled me into an extra-long, extra-tight Renny hug. “Love yousoooomuch,” she rushed. Her breath smelled like Niall as she pulled away. She lifted the cup to my lips and I shook my head. She frowned. 

 “I talked with Niall,” she said. “He says Harry’s just going” - she hiccupped - “through a lot right now. S’best to leave him alone.” 

 The other girls in line perked up at the mention of his name, subconsciously leaning closer. I huffed. “Trust me. I am.” 

 When three girls stumbled out of the only bathroom stall, Renny rushed in. “Thank God I was about to pee on the carpet.” She tried tugging me in with her, but my eye was on the end of the hall. And the stupid DG pretty please.

 “I’ll be back,” I muttered, squeezing her hand. 

 “Nooooo,” she drawled. 

 I squished her cheeks, checked her pupils. She didn’t need me to hold her hair back this time. I gave her cheek a lil slap.

 “I’ll go with you next time you have to go. Which will be in like... twenty minutes. You broke the seal rookie!” I teased. 

 I didn’t even bother looking over the railing at the party below to see if he was watching me. I still had my DG task and a nonrefundable deposit to think about. I didn’t think I’d get many chances to be in this house again unless I swindled Andre or Niall into letting me in. But that would require an explanation, and I wasn’t sure I could tell them that. 

 Forget explanations. I needed to do it now. Lots of noise. Tons of distractions. I’d just think of it as… borrowing?

 His door was locked and I groaned, kicking it and leaving a smudge beside all the others. I reached for a bobby pin in my purse and put it to work. I’d done it before in his bedroom, I could do it again here. The curve of the hallway protected me from onlookers waiting in line in the bathroom. Downstairs was a mixed bag. People could probably see through the railings running along the top floor. 

 Not that they’d think to look. 

 My knees were starting to hurt by the time I heard it click. I crept in, and for some reason, I expected his room to look different. But it was still the same. Dusty desk across from a queen-sized bed. Only one photograph atop his bedside mantle. And it didn’t smell like sweaty soccer clothes, but clean. With hints of a woodland spice and books. It felt like eons had passed since I was first here, undressing him like the drunken baby he’d been. As an act of betrayal, my body rushed at the thought of how his fingers had looped around my belt loops, tugging me closer. I swallowed, the image of his tightened pants expanding in my head. He’d almost been hard, then. 

 It was then, at that moment, that I decided that the one sip of alcohol I’d had must have been spiked with SOMETHING because I would NOT be that girl. I would NOT. I reFUSED TO LET MYSELF-

 Seconds later, my fingertips grazed his soft gray sheets. He’d been sprawled out right about here, and the rush of seeing unseen skin on Harry had been too intoxicating an offer to refuse. The ghost of that rush flowed through me again as my memory played it over like a movie. Close-ups and panning shots - Down his toned chest to tattoos speckled along tan skin, tattoos that had been seemingly doodles, but now held much more meaning now that I knew of his history with the ocean. For his sister. My body leant down before I knew what I was doing, and I inhaled. The lingering aroma of his body chemistry altering his cologne: musky, a little spice, and warmth.

 Even if every ounce of me wanted to dislike him, the legitimate biology behind my body responded to a chemistry I couldn’t control. 

 “What are you doing?”

 He caught me on my knees, with one hand clutched in the sheets.

 Fuckity FUCK-

 He could whip out PSYCHO magazine informing people of highly-dangerous murderers with my mugshot plastered across the cover - and I’d believe him in that moment. Oh my gosh. Omgomgomg. He didn’t say what I expected him to say when he swayed in, though. 

 “Andre. Really?” He laughed to himself, but it was cold. “Fucking” - he stumbled, leaning on the desk chair to catch himself- “really?” 

 It wasn’t the alcohol that’d put him on edge. I’d seen him handle liquor before, but this time he looked… different. I stood up, realizing his eyes were racking down my dress. I crept towards him, hoping to make it past the door. Not because I was scared of him. But because I was mortified. I’d just looked like an absolute fucking psychopath AND I’d snuck into his bedroom. Maybe I could distract him. Maybe he was too drunk to ask me-

 “What’re you doing here?”

 “What are we… all doing here? At parties?”

 “…in my room,” he clarified.

 Welp. My philosophical question fell flat. Wouldn’t be the first time.

 I waltzed past him, tight-lipped. In defense of my dignity, I still didn’t owe him anything. Not after how he’d treated me. 

 “Hey,” his arm jutted out, blocking my way. His brows crossed as he turned to a petulant boy. “S’rude to not answer.” 

 My blood boiled. “You are not about to give me a lesson on how bad it is to ignore people right now. Nor on being rude.” 

 “Can give you another one.” 

 He reached for me, but I stepped back, somewhat living in the hurt that flashed in his eyes at my rejection. 

 “You’re not leaving.” But his demand sounded like a plead. 

 “Thought you didn’t want me around you,” I scoffed, tearing past him. “Just because you’re drunk or high or whatever the fuck it is you are right now, doesn’t mean you can just… get a free pass! For a week! A whole week of awful-” I turned quickly, too frustrated to find the words. I took a step towards the door but- 

 “Y/N.” He was right behind me. His breath warmed the nape of my neck, the delicate hairs standing on end. No matter how much of an absolute mess he was, my body didn’t know better. I could practically feel him behind me, his presence radiating an alarm that blared through my veins. I wanted him. Badly. He trailed a finger down my arm, and his hand brushed against my own against my side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

 His fingers gingerly interlaced with mine, turning me around. 

 Something wet was on my cheek. I touched it, quickly rubbing it away in horror. Why were tears running down my face?! What unfair cruelty was this!? He saw my tears and leant down, suddenly defeated, pulling my body with him.

 “Why did’ya ever want me hm?” His nose went along my jaw. Full lips pressed against the base turned my legs weak. There was an underlying desperation to his words though, a prayer in his kiss. But my thoughts were turning anything but holy. 

 “Who says I did…” I wanted to pull away, ask him why he’d used past tense or why he’d completely ignored me this past week, but I was frozen by the softness of his hands. Self-respect was surely slipping away each moment I lingered. I could literally see Jane Austen parting the heavens and sticking her angelic head through Harry’s room to shame me with a glare. I do all this mental work to try and figure this guy out and… for what? I should be waltzing out that door, declaring I’d never talk to him again. I should give up messy and confused and pursue my own sanity. But the air only ever turned electric with him, in all his messiness, in all this confusion… and each time the spark appeared, it pushed us closer together until he was here, like this, soft hands gently running along my lower back, skilled fingertips feeling the dress fall slightly inwards at my waist, tracing a map of uncharted waters… 

 “You’re not thinking straight,” I breathed. And that went for both of us. 

 “Au contraire, I’m thinking clearer than I ever ‘ave.” There was a swirling madness shining through, but he bat his eyes and it was veiled again, vanished beneath the dark surface. He tilted his head, appraising my body, noticing my legs were no longer tensed to run, but in apprehension for another reason completely. A smirk settled in. “Why do you still want me?” he demanded, pulling me against him towards the bed.

 “Arrogant ass,” I sniped, but I landed on him anyway. His fingers tightened around my waist, a hand snaking up behind to entwine with my hair. I felt him harden beneath me as he pulled my head to the side, just the right amount of rough. But he stalled over vulnerable skin, lips ghosting featherlight up to my ear. He let out a soft breath and I clenched in anticipation. For once, I had no thoughts. “You should be with me,” he breathed. “Should be mine.” His voice grew frustrated and he practically growled, lips kissing my neck, steady, before they started to suck in a rhythm. The shock of the sensation masked the shock from his words and my back arched, a spider’s shiver crawling down my spine. He stopped suddenly, shooting back like he’d been shocked. His grip softened ‘round the nape of my neck, and he looked so… confused. “Can’t mark you again,” he noted, despondent. But then the corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk. “Least where it’s visible.” My breath caught. His black ink eyes showed the slightest ring of green. I don’t remember lifting my hand, but fingers trailed along dark circles. These were a new development. I shook my head lightly. Something was wrong. This was wrong. I leant in, resting my head against his. “Harry-” but his lips cut me off before I could mention it. 

 I felt like I’d been feeling his lips everywhere but my own. They were eager, but kept pace, switching it up just when I was getting comfortable, slowing to make me feel the soft fullness of raspberry-pink lips. They were pillows, and clouds, and everything else soft and wonderful that I’d want to feel forever. He slipped in his tongue, deepening the kiss, and I ground my body against him, using his shoulders as leverage. 

 This wasn’t me. But I didn’t care enough to think about ‘who I was’ anymore. What did I want? 

 I felt him pulse between my legs. 

 “Harry,” I bit my lip, and I knew then. I’ve been wanting more, I’ll always want more. I was more aware than ever of an emptiness he could fill. 

 “Been hard ever since I saw you bouncing in that dress,” he said gruffly. “With fucking Andr- ahh...fuck.” I rocked my hips against him in spite, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up. 

 But his head jutted back and came forward again. He looked at me through hooded eyes, and just like that I was sedated by his gaze, my body pausing. He looked like he was about to scold me. “Do it again.” His voice was low. I stalled, looking at the way his lips barely parted. “Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” My hips replied on command, but rebelliously, slowly, feeling the length of him run between the thin underwear that’d cocooned itself against my ridges and folds. I ran my hips back down against his thigh. “Fu-uhck-” He jutted his hips up, turning something wicked when I moaned. The friction from the dress and pressure from my own body rocking against Harry built a tightly coiled knot I wanted desperately to release. And then we were kissing again. Fervent. Eager. A skilled tongue slipping in to dance with my own. He was rock hard against me. I could feel the full outline pressed tight against his slacks now, creating my own mental map. My hands wrapped in his hair, and I pulled, relaxing our pace, rutting myself up with purpose to rotate in a circle at his clothed tip. The noise from his throat wasn’t human, and I felt heavy and light all at the same time when his thumb dug into my chin just under my lower lip. 

 “Wanna help you,” he rumbled. “Will you let me? Won’t you do that for me?” 

 I nodded, wordlessly, and with both hands tight on my hips, he tugged us further back until he was against the pillows, and me, repositioned above him. He pulled us down and we built a rhythm against his thigh, the determination in his stitched brow as he did half the work making it even sexier. He was almost needier than me. There was an urgency to his strong hands as they hiked up my dress, fingertips dancing around and just beneath the band of my underwear. He didn’t pull it off, just gently pushed my hips up and down, then harder, faster, to the damp patch already on his slacks. I was buzzing, every inch of me, the wound coil growing bigger, tighter, the build of release making my heart race. He stared at me as we moved together.

 “Tha’s it. So good at this,” he mumbled. “So beautiful.” 

 My breath caught, and his wide eyes watched wondrously as I moved frenzied above him. His chest rose, bits of tattoo spilling past the white button-down collar. My hand clutched his shirt as I felt myself begin to peak. This was as intimate as I’ve been with someone, and the pressure of being seen through his eyes like this was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to think about how many other girls had been in this position before. What he spoke to them, how they looked, what they’ve done, or how recently they’d done it. His hand cupped my face and brought me down, lips claiming me to the point of bruising and silencing voiceless thoughts. The pull of his lips, and the sturdiness of his thigh made me whimper. My swollen bud hit his clothed cock with each surge upwards, his hands guiding me, making sure my breath hitched each time. And each time, I’d feel him tense. Again, and again, just knowing his thick hard cock was against me, right against me, almost…

 “Almost… Harry…” 

 “Y/N,” he rasped. I felt his hot gaze as I shuddered above him. He kissed me, slow, swallowing another whimper as a current of electricity ran from the crown of my head to my toes. His hands helped me ride out my high, slowly coming to a halt. 

 He opened his arms, letting me cuddle up against his chest. Silence stretched on over quiet breathing. “Been waiting a long time for that,” he finally mumbled. I quirked an eye open, realizing he’d been watching me. I almost didn’t recognize his eyes. For once, they seemed sated. Unhaunted. The clouds had seemed, for a moment, to have parted. “To see you cummm.” He hummed the last word, leaning down and nuzzling the nook of my neck. Still nuzzling, he quirked half his face to look at me. We shared a long kiss, then a shorter one to my forehead. “You’re magnificent.” 

 Though I hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing, I hadn’t felt more naked. And for all the times I’d felt embarrassed around Harry, at least in this moment, he made me feel comfortable about what we’d just done. We lay there, my scent now mingling with the rest of his in the room. I still felt him hard beneath my legs that were strewn across his lap, and I wondered if it was … painful. He stirred, placing one hand behind his head, the other wrapped around me. 

 I traced shapes into his chest. He hummed, smiling softly. It was his boyish smile. The one I’d hardly seen, the one that you want to wrap up and cuddle and protect from the world to keep this one second of pure happiness intact. I pecked the corner of his mouth and his smile broke, squeezing my side. “Thank you,” he mumbled. I checked to make sure his eyes were still closed when I looked down at the black slacks. Since I finished, he should, too. I swallowed nervously as my fingers traced lower, down the button down as I tried to remember the porn Renny and I had watched together one late summer night. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he watched me, curiously, darkly, until I stopped at the tip of his pants. I slipped my fingers beneath the belt, just barely feeling the coarseness of hair before he took my wrist in his hand. He practically hissed and I stilled, not noticing I was holding my breath. I couldn’t possibly be doing this wrong…

 His index finger stroked the top of my hand, and I relaxed. 

 He looked at me gently. “Tonight was for you. S’all I wanted.” His touch was just as gentle, and he placed his thumb between my lips, running over them gently. I didn’t want him to see me as some pure untouched thing he should be scared to do anything with. My lips parted as seductively as I could make them appear, and I moved to let his finger in my mouth, but he cheekily closed my lips instead. 

 He stroked my cheek, almost giggling at my attempt. “This just isn’t how I picture it happening.” 

 The way his eyes were memorizing my lips told me he’d thought about this before, but I didn’t miss that he said how, and not where. Muffled EDC music vibrated his door, and faraway voices travelled through his open window from the yard below. The cops were waiting there, too. Was that the situation he was referring to? 

 “You deserve a lot, Y/N.” 

 I heard the hesitancy in his voice, some unforeseen disappointment he wouldn’t just spell out for me. “What’re you saying.” 

 “Just that there’s few things I want t’be sober for these days.”

 The thought hit my stomach like the sharpened blade of a knife, and it hurt worse than any wound from my nightmares. “Why would you say something like that?” I demanded.

 “Because it’s true.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the sadness pulling him in. Like the tumultuous water of the middle of the ocean spirally inwards into itself. A treacherous water hole that’d carry you into its deepest abyss.

 I shook my head as if to find a way out, as if that would clear away what I was seeing. “I never… know what’s going on with you,” I admitted. I thought to the interaction with Lionel and Samantha. “Is home life really that bad?” 

 “What home?” He huffed when I looked at him. “M’serious. I feel more alone when I walk in there than I do when I’m here. And nobody even fucking knows me here.” 

 “Everyone knows you.” 

 “You’re smarter than that, Y/N.” 

 “What’d you take tonight, hm?” I cooed. My hand traced the dark circles under his eyes, and he leant against my touch before looking to the window, still allowing me to touch him. No doubt from whatever stimulant or depressant he’d taken, his words had been more candid than ever before. 

 “A cocktail of sorts. Will fucking regret it in the mornin’. Probably.” 

 He looked back to me, and I didn’t have time to wipe the concern from my face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” he stated.

 He really believed it when he said it, and the way there didn’t seem to be enough energy left in him made me settle back in his arms with a frown. Because it did matter. It mattered a lot. A few moments later, he squeezed my sides. “You didn’t answer my question,” he mumbled. 

 “What question?” 

 He waited until I looked up at him, and even then he was hesitant. His voice was quiet when he spoke, intimate, so if even if someone was standing at the foot of the bed they couldn’t hear what he was about to ask. 

 “Why do you want me, Y/N?” 

 The vulnerable question hung in the air. And though it was presumptuous of him to ask, he wasn’t wrong. His eyes read me like a book he’d read a hundred times over. He saw me. I swallowed, my brain and heart at an all-out war. Unfortunately for me, they captured my tongue in a stale-mate. “I don’t know what I want.”

 And it was true. The dilemma was the following:

The only thing my body wanted was him. 

But my brain didn’t know if that’s what I should be     wanting anymore.  

And my heart was left in the middle of them both, not     sure what it was feeling. 

 I felt him shrug. “I get it. I have so many opinions shouting at me in my head right now. About soccer, my fucked family, about” - he threw his hands between us.  

 After Niall had greeted me at the door, I was sure Harry had talked about us in some capacity. But how many people had opinions on our relationship? “Let me guess. Viv shares her opinion about us.” 

 “I don’t listen to hers.” 

 “But hey, at least she fucks you right.” 

 He sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.” 

 “But it’s true, right? So no need to apologize.” 

 The room froze over. Just the thought of her whispering in his ear was enough to trigger an entire week’s worth of pent-up animosity. 

 “So maybe people are confused why Viv and I aren’t together but I couldn’t give a fuck about what they think. I fucking hate that we’re even talking about her right now.”

 “What do they say?” 

 He rolled his eyes, hurriedly slanting his voice, “Viv’s gorgeous mate, she clearly wants you. What the fuck are you doing now?” 

 I flinched. He noticed. “Look, I seriously hate talking about this. Can we talk about the fact that I didn’t invite anyone tonight?” 

 “Aw, was Viv busy?”

 “Alright, stop.” 

 A chill shot down my spine at the rejection. As much as I wanted to appreciate the fact he didn’t invite anyone, it didn’t help. This wasn’t helping at all. “I’m sorry if I want to talk about your relationships that directly affect me,” I said, rolling out of his arms.

 “Y/N, please. It’s not like that.” His voice was tired, pleading, coaxing me to forget. 

 “But why are you like this? Why did you just say what you did to me?”

 “You asked me-”

 “It was very belittling.” I changed my voice to a dopey British accent, “Viv’s gorgeous what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?” I ignored his scowl. “Really, thanks for the best compliment of the night.” I pushed against his chest, annoyed. “And why are you being like this now? All cuddly and-”

 “It’s not one-sided.” 

 I felt my cheeks heat. “Not tonight. But it’s one-sided any other time.”   

 “S’that what you really think of me?” He pulled me closer, and I fought the urge to twist away. His forehead pressed into my hair. “Firstly, you’re fucking beautiful Y/N. You have to know this. And you have to know you’re important to me. And secondly…”

 “Thirdly,” I corrected.

 His eyes turned somber. “They’re watching,” he mumbled, pleading. “This is hard for me, too.” 

 The gang, the cops, both, whichever it was, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same. No matter how special he claimed I was to him, we always went in circles. Maybe he had gotten it right. Maybe it was better for both of us if we weren’t together. “Why is it so hard then?” I whispered. 

 “Nothing good comes easy.”

 I remained silent. It was a cop-out response.

 He ran a hand down his face and sat up. “Because I’m fucked! I’m fucked, Y/N and there’s only so many people I can hide from. And you aren’t one of them.” 

 It was the most candid he’d ever been with me, without revealing anything at all.

 A knock sounded at the door. 

 I went to move, but he kept me against him, covering my ears as he shouted- 

 “FUCK OFF!!” 

 But even with his hands over my ears, it wasn’t very muted. The knock grew louder, more obnoxious. 

 “Sorry,” he grumbled, moving to open the door. When it opened, a boy wearing a snapback around the same height as Harry leant against the doorframe.

 “Wassup, man-” Snapback almost burst in.

 Harry’s back went stiff as the stranger’s snapback practically poked Harry in the eye. If their overcompensating confidence and too-familiar smile told me anything – freshmen. At least Snapback’s friend wore a Bond-inspired bow-tie t-shirt.

 Harry put a hand to Snapback’s chest, backing him back out of the room. They watched me walk up behind him.

 “Hey, relax man, we just wanted to get some zombies,” Bowtie bargained. 

 “You’ve got some fucking balls,” he snarled.

 My ears pricked. He was looking for the same thing, then. From Harry. My heart sunk to the lowest part of my belly after remembering why I’d come here in the first place. The sliver of hope I’d had was that maybe what Zayn had witnessed was just Harry’s past. A summer blunder. A summer fling with an illegal hobby. You know, some kids did drugs, some kids sold drugs... It was a ridiculously stupid comparison now that I thought about it. But still, I had hope. Now my undeniable denial was being shred up right in front of me.

 The cops, the gang, the drugs circulating campus…

 Harry had made his bed, and I was lying in it. 

 I squeezed past him.

 “Wait, are you leaving?” He still blocked his doorway.

 I ignored the pang of guilt I felt at his boyish disappointment. He looked at me, body still intimidatingly rigid, but his eyes, impossibly soft. Snapback tried to move past him again and Harry whipped his head back with a growl. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

 “Excuse me?” Bowtie came closer, puffing out his muscled chest. Testosterone, angst and alcohol were never the best combination. I grew nervous at the tension, looking from my escape at the end of the hall, back to Harry. 

 “C’mon, we have the cash. We’ll pay double!” Snapback whined, cornering him. 

 The words made me nauseous, conjuring the image of Viv sliding Harry the cash. I didn’t want to see this again. I didn’t want to see anything again.

 “I don’t do that shit anymore.” He strode through their barricade, determined, but Bowtie tugged him back. His nostrils flared and I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. He could ruin these guys if he wanted to. I don’t know why he was letting them keep him. But I also didn’t know why I didn’t run away. It was like watching a train wreck seconds before it happened.

 I stood alone, in the center of the hall, the only person on Harry’s horizon. A lighthouse hoping to steer the sailor home.

 “C’mon, please man, everyone’s talking about them. We just need one,” Snapback exhorted. He put up his hands, pleading. “We’ll split one. We’ll seriously cut it in half.” 

 Even from here, I could see the muscles in his neck tense. I tried doing to him what he did to everyone else. I trapped him, wide-eyed, anchoring him to me. He didn’t break our stare.

 As if each word scraped against his skull, “I said I don’t do that shit.”

 “That’s a fucking joke. Mark got some last week,” Bowtie barked.

 I saw the moment I lost him. In what world I thought I could be enough to harbor him, I had no idea. Harry snapped, kicking the steroid-pumped kid so hard in the knee, it knocked him down. It wasn’t a broken bone, but it’d leave one hell of a bruise.  

 “Dude, are you crazy?!” Snapback cried. 

 Harry raised his fist, bringing it flying. I gasped and hid my face. But I didn’t hear an impact. I faced them again.

 Harry’s fist froze inches before his cheek. Facing what would have been a badly broken nose, Bowtie shook on the floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry relaxed his hovering fist and folded his arms, squatting next to the quivering guy. “You’re fucking welcome I was in a good mood ‘fore you came, otherwise I wouldn’t be acting so polite.”  

 The squeak of a floorboard shook Harry back to Earth. He caught me walking away and his whole body straightened, once again hyper-focused on me, trying to tune in and trap me exactly where I stood. Taking advantage of his distraction, Snapback and Bowtie ran for it. Bowtie limped, running into me and knocking me off-balance as he passed.

 In a second, it was just us. 

 “Y/N,” he began, walking towards me cautiously. 

 “No.” 

 He stopped in his tracks. He was tall, but his shoulders hung in despondent defeat.

 “You were right, Harry.” 

 I could see how tired he was. I could see the broken pieces fitting into something beautiful. He looked so sad and regretful, I already felt guilty for saying,

 “You can’t hide anymore.” And with one last look at the broken boy before me, “You are fucked.” 

 Suddenly, the beer on the floor was just stale and sticky. The couches were filthy from strangers’ mistakes. And the air would never be clear. Harry had been right. This entire house was filled with people who didn’t care and if they did, they were trying to forget; a place more empty than if it were vacant. It was a mess just like the boy living in it. And just like the grand house, impressive at first glance, not all of his parts were beautiful.

 I ignored the way his broken pieces seemed to shatter as soon as I said it and the way it hurt me ten-fold. I ignored him calling out my name as I maneuvered through the blur of bodies, until I lost his voice on the dance floor. I could breathe better outside and I walked past the cops without acknowledging them. 

 From complete chaos to relative quiet, my ears rung, filling the new silence.

 Maybe this was the last time we’d speak. Maybe this was how it all should’ve ended that first day in September. Because in that house, that wasn’t the Harry I thought I’d knew. That was a boy far-gone, confused, and I was falling down with him. I was ANGRY. I PITIED him. And I was angry for feeling something else I should never have felt for him.

 Somehow, in this fuzzy ringing world buzzing with heated thoughts and cop lights that blurred my vision, I heard a notepad scribble as soon as I passed a squad car. 

 Lucky for me, Momma always said I had selective hearing.

part 21

#fratboy! harry #fratboy!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles #one direction #1direction #one direction imagine #one direction smut #one direction one shot #harry imagine #harry styles preference #one direction preferences #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #onedirection #niall horan #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #liam payne #smut #fluff #angst #harry one shot

[princess-of-riviaa]

Inflicting Misery ch.3

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: A mission gone awry puts in the hospital on life support. In the meantime, August tries to process everything.

Author’s Note: This chapter will be in August’s POV and the following chapters will be back in reader’s POV.

Warning(s): none, just angst and floof :)

word count: 2094

“How have you been, August?” Dr. Tolsen asks me, like we’re old friends catching up over a cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you ask the bags under my eyes?” I bark. I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. My brain is starting to play tricks on me, begging me to close my eyes for just an hour. But every time I blink, all I can see is Lorenzo shooting that damn bullet through Y/N’s chest and her dying in my arms.

No. She hasn’t died yet. What happened to her is much worse. She’s stuck inside the nation’s top medical facility and hooked up to a million machines that are breathing for her, keeping her heart beating, keeping her body working. She’s at the goddamn misery of those hideous machines. If they switch off, she’s gone.

“You went on a recent mission to Las Vegas,” Dr. Tolsen says. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

“No,” I growl.

But Dr. Tolsen has been my therapist for long enough that he knows the game I’m playing. He doesn’t bother getting frustrated. Instead, he addresses the heart of the matter. “Your partner, Agent Y/L/N, got hurt during the mission. How does that make you feel?”

How does that make me feel? Like I want to rip Lorenzo’s head off of his body. Like Y/N should have moved faster, should have gotten her gun out sooner, should have stopped looking at me with that light in her eyes like I meant something to her, and maybe she wouldn’t be in that goddamn hospital right now.

Helpless.

It makes me feel absolutely fucking helpless. Because I watched it all happen. Because I didn’t protect her. Because that bullet should have gone straight through me, a man who’s more monster than human, and yet it went through the best woman I’ve ever known instead. And now she can’t even breathe on her own.

I did that to her.

It’s my fault.

I may as well have been the one to shoot her.

“These are all reasonable emotions to be experiencing when someone you care about is dying,” Dr. Tolsen says, and that’s when I realize that I just said all of that out loud. I tend to dissociate during these therapy sessions. If I’m too far inside my head to even realize my mouth is moving and words are tumbling out, it somehow makes it all easier to say out loud. “It’s times like this when it’s crucial for you to remember that emotions in and of themselves aren’t good or bad. They’re just emotions. But it’s how you choose to react to them, the actions you take in response to those emotions that is good or bad.”

I know that. He’s said that at least a hundred times by now. He probably thinks that if he repeats it enough times, I’ll start turning into a better person. The thought is laughable. I’m beyond saving. Doesn’t he realize that?

“Have you visited her yet?” Dr. Tolsen asks.

No. I haven’t gone anywhere near her. It’s my fault she’s in there to begin with. Me being around her now, when she’s desperately in need of a miracle, will only make things worse.

“I think seeing her will provide you with some much needed closure,” he says.

Closure? She’s not fucking dead.

“Not yet, but--”

No! She’s not gonna die. She’ll recover. She’ll get better. But if I come to visit, that’ll ruin everything. I have to stay away and then she’ll come back to us.

“To us? Or to you?”

This isn’t about me.

“It’s been about you since day one,” Dr. Tolsen argues. “This woman cares about you, and deep down you know it. I think that’s why you’re feeling so guilty. You think you’ve corrupted her somehow. That getting shot was her consequence for daring to care about you.”

Everyone who gets close to me dies. That’s just how it works.

“You didn’t sign her death sentence, August,” he says. “And whether this woman lives or dies--none of that will matter if you can’t see that. You need to forgive yourself. You did not put her in harm’s way. She knew the job she signed up for. She knew what she was getting herself into. You did not do this to her. She’s not in the hospital right now because of you. August--look at me.”

My eyes jump to his.

“Hear me when I say this: You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

Yeah, right.

He repeats himself, again and again. “You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong.”

He says it enough that the words fight through the barriers of my mind and suddenly my head is in my heads and I’m crying, I’m fucking crying like a baby and I can’t stop, not even to get air in my lungs and it’s hurts, oh god it fucking hurts.

...

She stood out in a crowd of beautiful women. Even from the first moment I saw her I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I wanted this woman.

I go to take a seat beside her at the bar. I give the bartender my order and turn to her. She keeps her head down, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. I eye the glass in front of her.

“Vodka your drink?” I ask.

She looks at me for the first time. Her eyes are a deep brown and there’s a flicker of innocence in them. Her cheekbones are sharp and that mouth--

I want that small mouth wrapped around my cock. As if hearing my thoughts, my cock stirs to life in my pants. I’m grateful for the dim lights in the bar. She can’t see my body’s reaction to her.

“Usually nothing’s my drink,” she confesses, and her voice is like a smooth velvet. “But tomorrow’s my first day at my new job and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight without some help.”

I say nothing, letting her continue. I like the sound of her voice as much as she likes to talk, apparently.

“I’m sorry, I talk when I anxious,” she admits with a blush. “And when I’m drunk. And when I’m anxious and drunk.”

“You’re really that stressed about your job?” I wonder.

She gives me a sheepish smile and then pauses, looking a me with a defensive expression. “I’m sure you’re nice and everything, but I have too much going on right now to have a hookup, so you should probably try your moves on some other drunk woman.”

That makes me chuckle. “I don’t do hookups, either. I was just trying to have a conversation.”

Her face flushes. God, I love how easy it is to get a reaction out of this woman. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry--that was rude. I didn’t--I just, um... I’ve had a little too much to drink and it’s turned me into a bit of a ballsy bitch.”

I offer her my arm. “Why don’t I help this ‘ballsy bitch’ find a cab? You’ll need sleep before tomorrow.”

She gives me a grateful look and takes my arm. Her hands are so small that they can’t even wrap around my entire arm. I wonder how big my cock would look in her hands--though now I’ll probably never get a chance to find out.

I wave over a cab for her outside and open the back door for her.

“You’re really sweet,” she says before she enters the cab. “I’m so sorry for talking your ear off and being rude. This isn’t really my best moment.”

“Let’s just hope you’re having a better moment tomorrow,” I say. “A good first impression with the boss is crucial.”

She giggles drunkenly. “Yeah, they are, um... what’s your name?”

I say the first name that comes to mind. “Henry.”

She blinks up at me and damn, those lashes are long. This woman is completely gorgeous and she’s so unaware of it. “I’m glad I met you, Henry.” And then she kisses me. Her mouth moves clumsily against mine, sloppy due to her drunkenness, and I let her kiss me for a second. I even kiss her back before pushing her away. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted, um... I’m sorry.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and assure her, “Believe me, I wanted that. But I’m not about to take advantage of a woman who’s too drunk to remember me in the morning.”

She opens her mouth, but the cab driver honks his horn impatiently, and whatever she was about to say dies on her lips. She gives me one last smile before getting the cab. I close the door behind her and watch the car drive off.

Little did I know that my company’s new agent we’d hired a week ago was starting the next day. And it was her, my little drunken girl that I’d already thought about fucking the life out of. God, was I in deep shit.

...

I run through the halls of the hospital. My feet can’t carry me to her room fast enough. After what feels like a year I make it to Room 246. Half the team is already in there, crowding around Y/N’s bed. I pause in the doorway. She looks up at me. She’s actually awake.

“You’re awake,” I say, stating the obvious like an idiot.

She smiles, but I can see the strain on her face. She’s exhausted. “You can’t get rid of this ballsy bitch that easily, August.”

Hearing my name in her mouth... God, I should be sent to hell for the things I’m thinking. She just woke up from a fucking coma and all I can think about is fucking her.

“How are you feeling?” Savannah asks, our team’s weapons expert and medic. She runs a hand down Y/N’s arm and I know it’s meant to be comforting but dammit, I’m seconds away from cutting Savannah’s hand off. No one touches Y/N. No one but me.

“Tired,” Y/N confesses. “The doctor came in just before you all got here. He said they performed surgery on my lung. They got the bullet out but my body’s going to need a while to recover.”

“Of course,” Savannah said in a soothing voice. This girl was really getting on my nerves right now.

“Is there anything you need from us?” Lorenzo asks.

Wait.

Lorenzo?!

What the fucking hell is he doing here?

I look over to see him standing in the corner. How the hell had I not noticed him already? In two strides I’m in front of him, his shirt in my hand. I punch him hard in the jaw before I feel someone pull me back. Savannah.

“What the hell, Walker?” she shouts.

“He fucking shot her!” I exclaim. “He shouldn’t be here--he shouldn’t be anywhere near her!”

“August!” Y/N calls out. Her tone is pleading.

I force myself to breathe and take a step back. Lorenzo clutches his jaw. His eyes are watering. Savannah wraps an arm around him and drags him out of the room, leaving me alone with Y/N.

“It was an accident,” Y/N insists. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“Yet here we are,” I say bitterly. “If he know what’s good for him--”

“Please,” she sighs. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

I look into her brown eyes, as alluring as ever. “Want do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk,” she admits. “Can you just... can you lie next to me?”

I hesitate.

“Don’t make me pull the crippled card,” she jokes.

I take in a breath and move to her bed. She does her best to slide over to make room for me, but these stupid hospital beds are built for twelve-year-olds, so there’s hardly enough room for us to both fit. She moves into my arms and rests her head on my chest. Shit, she can probably hear how fast my heart is beating. Her hand rests on my stomach. The touch is completely innocent, but I fucking want her. I’ll take her right here and now if she’s willing. But I hear her breathing slow and even out and I know she’s fallen asleep. With her in my arms--with her awake and breathing and talking--my body finally relaxes. I close my eyes and let sleep take over.

#august walker #august walker imagine #august walker mission impossible #august walker has a heart and i will prove it #henry cavill #henry cavill kiss

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 11

The infirmary was nice, quiet, and completely boring so Muska was more than glad to be home. Eras had all but dragged her to the car and fretted over her the entire evening. Even making all her favorite foods and giving her space to settle. Eras had always been attentive to small changes in her mood and knew when she just needed to be alone. That didn’t stop her from making sure she had everything she needed before she left Muska to her own devices.

Eras was in the observatory now, probably destressing from the emotional day she had and really, she couldn’t blame her. When Eras had stepped through the infirmary door, Muska could tell she was on edge. She wasn’t entirely sure that Eras had noticed either, however Muska noticed that she had flinched when she saw the bandages on her arms paired with the word ‘burns’. That's when Muska remembered. She had only seen the scars on Eras’s back once and it was only a quick flash. They were Burn scars.

Fuck, no wonder she was so nervous and on edge. That’s why she relaxed when Recovery Girl promised they wouldn’t scar.

She knew what being burned felt like.

...

....

.....

Absolutely not, she was not dealing with this right now. This emotional revelation will be pushed aside for when she wasn’t absolutely decked by Recovery Girls quirk. Maybe she could even sleep tonight.

Surprisingly, she did actually sleep.

By morning, Eras was back to normal, which is still just as concerning as it usually is. Muska was almost positive that there were some heavy negative consequences to that kind of approach to emotional processing. She may not be a therapist, but her dad had been one so she knew, at least, the basics. Plus, who lives for centuries without gaining some kind of mental instability? At some point she was going to convince her to attend therapy, she just has to find a qualified therapist to handle a young adult vampire with years of memories and possible trauma to get through.

For now though? She was going to focus on her coffee, lovingly made with the higher end brand of coffee Eras had express shipped to their house because she’s desperate like that. Eras also chose not to give Tibbles treats for the next week as punishment which caused Muska to carry around headphones to ignore the loud and meowed complaints voiced during the entire discussion.

The calm and quiet atmosphere that had settled in that morning was shattered by the sound of a blender going off and Tibbles flinging himself from the table to the air and back. A grumbled [Bitch] followed right afterwards which caused Muska to cackle at her familiar.

“Smoothie time huh? It has been awhile since you last ate.” Muska mumbled, even over the sound of a loud ass blender she knew Eras could hear her. Her hearing was freakishly good.

The blender stopped and a few moments passed before the scratch of a pulled out chair was followed by the thump of a physical body collapsing in said chair. Looking up from her coffee, Muska cringed a bit at what she saw.

“Yea, I just… I’ve been a bit tired recently.” Eras looked deader than usual. The pale white skin was bordering on translucent a bit and the deep eyebags normally kept at bay were back full force.

Sighing, Muska sent Eras a rather pointed look. She knew her friend refused to fully sleep so instead she relied on the energy boost coffee and blood gives her to keep going. Along with maintaining a vegetative state close to meditation to make up for not sleeping. Eras rarely ever truly slept and whenever she did she was always off the next day. Energized, but also wary. On edge. Probably nightmares but Eras sleeps in the observatory to prevent Muska from hearing anything so she couldn’t confirm.

Eras ignored her stare in favor of sipping on the smoothie in front of her.

Sighing, Muska dropped the conversation. Eras would just clam up if she pressed further.

After getting ready and heading out, taking the train this time, Muska ran into Midoriya and Uraraka on the way to school. They greeted her with sunshine smiles and dragged her into the conversation. When they got to UA and were still conversing, she had almost missed the loud and angry demands made near the gate of UA.

Reporters.

Muska hates crowds with a passion and they brought one to her school.

Safe to say she absolutely hates them now.

Muska sighed and racked her brain for anything that could help in a situation like this. Energy could be manipulated to push them aside but that’d be a public quirk use law infraction. Witch stuff then. The type to be hidden in plain view. Manipulative…..

Muska grabbed her two new friends' arms and led them through the reporters with ease. The crowd moving and melding around them but not actually recognizing. She was using the energy produced by the human body to limit the signals sent to the brain and pushed the thoughts of “not here” and “just another reporter” to prevent them from being recognized.

She heard the soft mumbled “This is so cool…” behind her from Midoriya and she almost lost her control a bit in her surprise. That would’ve been a nightmare.

They managed to get through unscathed and passed by Aizawa-sensei, keeping the reporters back and helping other students through. Present Mic, or Yamada-sensei as he wanted to be called, was there with him whispering about something.

When they reached the classroom, a sigh escaped Muska as she finally relaxed. There weren’t too many other classmates present, probably due to the reporters outside, and those that were there were relatively quiet. Besides Iida, though it looks like he was refraining from speaking just yet, he did give a nod in their direction though so that was possibly Muska’s fault.

She just really hates when people have a strict view on how you're supposed to operate and act, hates being controlled like that.

Muska Bee-lined for her seat and sat down with a thud as she hooked her book bag on the side of the desk. Relaxing into her seat. Midoriya sat in his seat in front of her and Uraraka deposited her bag on her desk before making her way over to continue talking.

“By the way,” Uraraka started, turning to face Muska who was slowly collapsing in on herself for a nap, “I never got to ask but how were you yesterday? I managed to see Mido here before he left the school yesterday so I was able to ask him but you disappeared.”

Muska sat confused for a second before her brain caught up to the attention.

“Ah, my guardian came to the school for the meeting about what happened and she took me home.” She explained.

“Your guardian?” Uraraka and Midoriya echoed before they both shut their mouths with a click, Uraraka jumped in before Mido to stammer out “Ah! sorry that's rude to inquire about!”

Muska just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“It’s fine. My guardian is a friend and a friend of my family. When My parents passed away a long time ago, she took me in.” Which was the truth. Eras had found Muska when she had just joined the veil and had promised to take her in after her parents passed away. It’s just that her parents died of old age and not an ‘accident’.

The two nodded before Uraraka brightened again.

“What are they like?!” She asked, hands waving around as if getting rid of extra energy.

“Her name is Eras, so Viridis Eras. She's nice and a bitch.”

Uraraka sputtered and Midoriya muffled a snort. Iida snapped his head around with wide eyes but didn’t actually snap out an etiquette speech. Instead, he grumbled a bit and headed over. Before she could even glare, Iida bowed.

What?

“I wished to apologize for my actions regarding you the past couple of times! I spoke with my brother and he agreed that your advice was applicable to the way the world truly works and so I shall better myself and that starts with an apology!”

Muska was speechless. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Uraraka and Midoriya smiling knowing smiles towards Iida so they had probably had a word with him outside of school. That didn’t help her though. Iida was very earnest in a way she had never actually seen in a person before holy hell. What kind of childhood do you live to be this engaged all the time?

“Ah, sure, apology accepted?”

The rest of that morning was spent with Muska listening to her two friends and Iida talk about what could be happening today. Though Robocop did manage to complain about her calling Eras a bitch before class started, it wasn’t as heavy as his usual lectures.

Muska just wants normality please and thank you, but based on this morning so far she doubts she’ll receive a normal day. That thought plagued her throughout the class representative vote and her first few educational classes. (Was she getting different paperwork? She was definitely getting different paperwork...) The bell rang and her classmates all started congregating to head to the cafeteria while Muska just sighed and got up from her seat. Today was definitely not going to be normal and though she wanted to be wrong, it was not to be.

She just didn’t expect an alarm to prove her right.

The minute the alarm started blaring in the middle of Lunch, Muska did as any student that's been through American public education does. She kept eating. The rest of her classmates that had sat at her table, Mido Uraraka and Iida (for some reason), had already jumped up and started running towards the glorified mob at the doors. She just finished off her absolute heaven of a meal, Eras should meet this Lunch Rush dude (Midoriya had fanboyed loud enough for her to learn his name) their collective chef skills would crush Gordan Ramsey’s taste buds and have Guy Fieri screaming flavor town.

Vaguely, she heard Iida shouting about something and a cheery ‘PLUS ULTRA’ shout but she paid little attention. Instead, she headed back to class.

She would later come to regret not paying closer attention that afternoon.

If she did? She would have noticed the oil like energy tainting the harmony of the school.

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

Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #bnhaoc #bnhafanfiction #mha #mhaoc #mha fanfic recs #au

[sunarintoes]

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

Yn

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

Yn

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

Yn

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

Yn

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

Yn

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

Yn

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

Yn

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

Yn

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

Yn

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

Yn

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

Yn

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

Yn

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

Yn

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

Yn

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

Yn

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

Yn

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

Yn

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

Yn

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

Yn

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst

[holylulusworld]

Devil’s Bargain - Part 13 - Even the devil can fall in love

Summary: Getting the job as Jared Padalecki’s assistant was a dream coming true until you woke up in a living nightmare. He’s angry, selfish and possessive. The worst of all - his anger is focused on you. Quitting your job was your only way out - only it wasn’t the end of your nightmare...

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader, OFC’s Brad, Caleb and Mark (readers brothers), OFC’s Dr. Harold, OFC Scott

Warnings: angst, language, comforting, fluff, longing, mentions of rape/miscarriage/possible infertility (nothing graphic but it gets mentioned so head the warnings), past abuse, mentions of violence, therapy

Devil’s Bargain Masterlist

Two months later…

“Rules, punk.” Mark circles Jared like his prey, smirking as he can watch Jared’s hand shake. “If you ever even try to hurt our sister, you are dead meat.”

“The reason you made it into the house alive is Y/N and her alone. If you want to make it out of the house alive, you better listen to what we have to say.” Caleb nods at Brad who is not amused about Jared’s presence.

“Y/N got hurt before, you added to her pain, even ripped old wounds open. According to her, you are doing better, but if you ever dare to say a wrong word, dare to look at another girl…” Pursing his lips Brad points toward the baseball bat in Mark’s hands.

“I get it. First, thank you for inviting me to your lovely home.” Jared stammers while you smile to yourself. “Then I want to thank you for being there for Y/N after I messed up everything.”

“We don’t need your appreciation, asshole. Y/N is our baby sister. Of course, we are there for her.” Mark grunts. “We don’t need Jared Padafucky to tell us so.”

Laughing you lean against the doorframe, not stepping in as promised. Before you agreed Jared can meet your brothers, you told him he must ‘survive’ their wrath.

“That’s not what I want to say…” Stammering get’s a piece of paper out. “I…I am sorry. I hurt Y/N out of selfishness and as I was too chicken to admit my feelings. I promise - no swear to worship the ground she’s walking from now on.”

Mark narrows his eyes, brushing the baseball bat over Jared’s nose. “If you dare to touch her, you are dog food.”

“Mark…” Sighing you step closer, but Jared shakes his head. “I’ve got this, Y/N. He is right. I lost the privilege to touch or kiss you. Maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to be in the same room.”

“Damn right, Padafucky,” Caleb mutters as Brad points toward you. “If you ever dare to do her wrong again, you won’t survive, that’s for sure. Y/N decided to help you even though you are not worth the dirt under her shoes.”

“I know…” Shuffling on his feet Jared listens to all the insults, calling names and threats. He doesn’t respond, only looks at you the whole time and a shy smile appears on his lips. “I want to make her happy…”

“Gosh, sis. Is he stupid or deaf?” Mark groans as you finally step in to take Jared’s hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.

“That’s enough, boys. I love you but Jared came here to make the first step of many to do redemption. Now we all will hug each other and promise to not yell again.” Giggling you peck Mark’s cheek. “I was just kidding, big brother. I know you mean well.”

“If he wants to be a part of your life, he has to earn it. I still do not trust that bastard.” Swinging the baseball bat in front of Jared your brother smirks. “One false step, Jared.”

“He will behave. Now stop threatening him. We have somewhere else to be in an hour. Just make sure you will have the barbecue ready when we are back.” Giving Caleb a wink you grab Jared’s hand to lead him out of the living room.

“That punk won’t get meat!” Mark calls after you. “Only a bun!”

“And a salad!” Brad chuckles.

“This must be odd to you, Y/N.” Jared’s therapist starts, eying you suspiciously. “I heard from Jared you want to forgive him.”

“What must be odd? Being here with Jared after what happened or being at the practice of a therapist?”

“The later, Y/N.”

“Well…” Placing your hand onto Jared’s thigh you straighten your back.

“I was at a therapist practice before. I even went to therapy after my ex-boyfriends raped and almost killed me. He killed my baby and I felt responsible for his doings.” Jaw going slack about your boldness Jared’s therapist needs a moment to compose herself.

“Y/N,” Jared whispers as his hand presses yours gently. “You didn’t have to tell her. I know this is…”

“Jared, that was years ago, and I moved on. I had time to overthink my life and realized if I want to be able to have a healthy relationship with anyone, I have to leave the things dragging me down behind.” Meeting Jared’s eyes you give him a cracked smile.

“Baby…I…I don’t know what to say but if you want to get rid of me too, I will understand.” Jared’s voice is hoarse, and you can hear the tears behind his words.

“Jared, I am here at your therapist’s practice.” Patting his thigh, you huff. “This means I try to move on…with you.”

“With me…” Gasping Jared gives you a shy smile. “Did you heat that doc? She wants to move on with me.”

“Y/N, I know this is Jared’s session but do you want to tell us more about your plans and what happened back then?” Clearing her throat she looks at you, asking you for permission and you nod silently.

“When I woke in the hospital I was confused at first but then everything came back, crushing me. While the doctor talked about trauma, therapy and that I lost my baby I felt like I was under water.” Sniffling you look at your hands. “She told me the damage was…serious.”

“I am sorry, Y/N…” Doctor Harold whispers, knowing what you imply. “Is there a chance?”

“30 percent the doctor said and everyone else said the same. I probably never will be able to conceive a child due to the damage Scott did.” Jared’s hand starts to shake as he grasps for yours to kiss it softly.

“Y/N, thank you for being honest. Can we talk some more?” Nodding you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Good. What happened to Scott?”

“I never talked about this part. You need to know, everything I am going to tell you is only a story, not what happened…” Smirking you meet her eyes and she nods.

“Maybe three tall and strong men called a few friends and maybe one of them brought Scott to these men.”

“Is Scott still alive? Did he get punished for his crimes?” Stammering the therapist searches your face and you nod.

“He is, and he got punished. Let’s say those men had some time alone with Scott. Let’s say they broke a few bones and more before calling the police.” Now your eyes darken. 

“Let’s say the friend bringing Scott to those men works at a prison and let slip that Scott likes to rape women and kill babies…”

“You don’t have to come with me, Jared.” Glancing at Jared gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white you take a deep breath. “I have to face him one last time. I need to close this chapter of my life.”

“I won’t leave you alone with that monster. He hurt my girl, he…” Choking on his words Jared blinks the tears away. “That man did horrible things to you and I need to make sure you are not alone this time.”

“Jared…”

“I was an idiot, Y/N. If I could turn back time, I would do so but now I can be there for you and I will. Let’s go in there and show that bastard you moved on.” Jared’s voice is lower now and you can hear the anger. “I will not turn evil again.”

Jared saw the fear as you heard his tone change. “You need to understand that I still can’t trust you completely, Jared. What you did hurt me deeply and I will need more time to give you access to my heart again.”

“All I am asking for is a chance, Y/N. If you decide you can’t give me that, I’ll accept your decision and we can try to become friends.” His hand gently strokes your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I’ve missed your devilish side for sure…” Laughing you press your lips against Jared’s and he cups your face to hold you in place. “Maybe we can go back to me being a brat and you nagging. I’d like to be your bad girl…”

“OH, you like my asshole side?” Smirking Jared pecks your lips. “I am still a dom, Y/N…”

“I know you are, Baby.” Sighing you fist his shirt. “Shame you didn’t show me your inner dom that night. That was a dick move for sure.”

“Baby, I’ll show you everything you want me to one day.” Kissing Jared one last time you want to get out of the car, but he stops you. “Was he a dom too?”

Flustered you nod, biting your lip. “During college, I discovered I like to be a sub, a bratty one. My boyfriend didn’t understand, and we only did vanilla stuff. With Scott…”

“You could let this side out…” Sniffling you pat Jared’s cheek. “I assume he wasn’t a good dom?”

“At first I thought his tendency to find a reason to spank me, to punish me is just his dominant side but when my butt started to bleed, when I had bruises and bloody bite marks I knew this has nothing to do with a fetish. It was him hurting me on purpose.” 

Shifting in your seat you look at the prison. “I used my safeword one time and he slapped my face hard enough to bruise. Later he said I was a brat, but I knew it was a lie. After that night…”

“I get it. He wanted to hide he’s an abusive asshole. BDSM has nothing to do with abuse. Abuse is abuse. BDSM is consensual and never abusive. You use your safe word; I stop and do aftercare.” Jared mumbles, balling his hands into fists. “I swear I will kill him.”

The walk toward the room is incredibly uncomfortable even though Jared is holding your hand, squeezing it gently as the guard opens the door.

Angry eyes glare at you and there’s no doubt, Scott didn’t learn his lesson. Instead of showing regret or to apologize he snarls your name.

“Did the whore find a new idiot to bear her shit?” Scott spats as Jared squares his jaw. “I bet she’s not as good in bed as before…”

“I swear if the guard wouldn’t be in the same room, I would rip you apart.” Jared is panting heavily. His eyes are at least three shades darker and you can see the ‘devil’ shine through again.

“She’s mine, my good girl and I can tell…” Smirking Jared places his hands onto the table. “I enjoy having her in any way possible and the best is…”

“What is the best, asshole?”

“She’s going to have my baby…” Rubbing your belly Jared lies straight to Scott's face and enjoys the struggle all over the man’s face. “You didn’t destroy her. If anything, you made her stronger and now she can be as bratty as she wants to be.”

“YOU!” Jumping up Scott struggles against the chains holding him. “I will kill you!”

“No, you won’t.” Face stoic, eyes hard you look at Scott. “Tiny, pitiful man.” Smirking you enjoy the gasp leaving Scott's lips. “We are done here, Jared. I want to go home…”

“You won’t get away! Next time I will slit your throat!” Cursing and yelling Scott wants to attack you but the guards hold him back, smirking as you give Scott a wink.

“Let’s go, Baby Girl. That tiny man wasted enough of your time.” Jared leads you out of the room, wrapping his arms around you the moment the door shuts behind you. 

“Breathe, Y/N. I am here, he can’t hurt you again. Look at me.” Panting you look up at Jared, laughing as he tries to calm you. “I love you.”

“You love me…huh?” 

“Even the devil can fall in love.” Gently stroking your arms Jared let you rest your head against his chest. “Y/N and we are going to make it through this…together…”

“Together…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katsav17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @rvgrsbrns, @deanwanddamons, @tearsforhan, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13, @thevelvetseries, @train-wrecc

Devils Bargain

@bitchwhytho, @babygirls-fav, @the-soulofdevil, @albinotigerpython, @squirrelnotsam​, @i-am-a-mes, @aubageddon91, @jessiejunebug, @thebooksoverthemovies, @rebeq88-samw

#Devil’s Bargain Masterlist #Supernatural RPF #RPF #spn rpf #rpf fanfic #Jared Padalecki #angst #jared padalecki fanfiction #jared x reader #jared padalecki x reader #jared x you #jared padalecki series

[footballerimaginess]

Beauty Therapist

Eric Dier - Beauty Therapist  I would like to thank the anon who suggested this idea and to @footballffbarbiex for helping me with this idea! Enjoy x  Word Count: 1,110  Taglist: @lawsandother @pom277 @macybeckham7 @no-fate-but-what-we-make​

“Eric, will you help me for a bit? I need to do something for my class” you told him. “Yeah I am slightly suspicious of what you want me to do though” you rolled your eyes as he walked towards you. “I will be doing something. You are probably and I know for a fact you will hate me. But I honestly don’t even care at this point.” you smirked.

You were currently studying beauty therapy at college. You were learning to do nails, despite you doing your own nails You needed to practice applying acrylics. You loved doing your own nails. You needed to get as much done as you possibly could, while being stuck in isolation. You got your nail box which was filled with everything you needed. “So I was wondering, would you let me put acrylics on you because I need to practice and well. I can’t do this on myself right now. I need to do some other things” you told Eric as his facial expressions changed.  “I hate you. Why the fuck do you make me do this stuff?” Eric huffed. You opened the box and tipped the contents out onto the table as Eric walked over to the table. “Here we go, I want to do different type of nail on your nail. “You owe me” you laughed.  You set and prepped Eric’s nails, ready to put the acrylic on. You put this on his nails and put the blob of acrylic onto it. “This smells nice, I thought it would be disgusting” you laughed as you put it on his nail.  "You seem to be enjoying this, are you?" You laughed, glancing up at him not moaning. "It is relaxing actually. I am a fan of this. I can see why girls enjoy this" Eric smiled. “Oh you are getting into it now. You are so easy to convince. Right the acrylics have been put on. I will only do it on one hand for now, may need to do another one in a few weeks” you told Eric.  “Oh god really” Eric huffed as you got all your paint and stuff out. “Now I am going to have a different design on each nail because you know I can. The boys will love it babe, they will be so jealous because they can’t have their nails like that” you teased him. Eric groaned as you pulled out your phone to take a photo.  You took your acrylic powder which was bright pink. “Y/N, no seriously. How can you do pink?” Eric squirmed and moved his fingers out of your grips. “Babe, stop it. I need to do this. I promise once this is finished, it will be done” you shook your head.  “The next nail will have diamante gems on and you are going to love this so much” you laughed at Eric as he shook his head in disgust. This was so much fun, despite what Eric was saying, he was quite enjoying it really.  “How much longer is this going to take? I really need a wee and a drink” you sighed as he stood up. “If you knock those nails you are absolutely dead Eric Dier” you sternly said. “Yes I will be fine” Eric smirked as he went off.  Once Eric eventually came back, you spent the next hour doing his nails with all different designs. You had three more in mind. You didn’t do his thumb because he wasn’t best pleased with the idea of a nail on his thumb.  “Please tell me this is done, I am bored” Eric moaned. “I just want to use my phone” he sighed. “I have one more to do after this, please sit still just for a few minutes” you made sure to be done and picked a simple last design.  “They are done babe, let me take a photo and they will be done” you smiled as you admired your work and loved all the colours.  “Wait, when I do training. The boys are going to notice, they will rip me to absolute pieces. I have long nails. You better owe me. I have really no idea why I agreed with this idea. Fuck sake” Eric huffed and puffed. “You are the absolute worst” he groaned.  “The boys will really like them, they will be jealous. You agreed to it because you are a cutie and the best boyfriend ever” you kissed him on the lips as you tidied up everything off of the table. “Thanks I guess. I love you too I suppose. I mean the nails look good. You are a talented queen” Eric smirked as he admired at his nails. “Oh wow you cutie baby” “So now I am going to do a facial on you” you smirked. “Oh wow, I wasn’t expecting that. It’s bad enough now that you have just done my nails and you are now doing a facial on me. I am glad I don’t have to see anyone” Eric moaned once again.  “It is only a facial, I am just using an oil and stuff on it. You are acting like I have just had a shit on the floor” you remarked. “Wow okay” Eric stifiled his laugh. “You are doing one one me, so wait what is that?” Eric held your hand to inspect the products in your hand. “This is cream, I put it on your face. Then I will use scrubs. You will have the smoothest skin then you won’t be moaning” You get a gentle cleanser onto his face. Then you put the facial scrub onto his skin, to get rid of any dead and gross skin. Then you put his face in a steamer because this was going to get into his pores.  “So I am now going to do a face mask, we have this for your face. I bought this a couple of weeks ago and this will look good” you smiled at him. You put the brush into the mask as you slavered it onto your face.  After a while it was all hard and you needed to take it off. “Thank you babe, my skin is smooth actually. I am a fan of this. Thanks for being such a sweetie, I quite liked this maybe we should have pamper night tomorrow, I can do this on you” you laughed. “Oh thanks babe, I am glad you enjoyed this”  “Thank you so much babe” you hugged Eric as you stroked his soft smooth skin. “Aww that is alright, I am glad you are so supportive” you snuggled closer up to Eric. 

#hayleysoriginalpiece #eric dier imagine #eric dier #football imagines #football imagine #football one shots #football one shot #futbol imagines #futbol imagine