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#I don’t know how to explain it to my therapist and besides he thinks I already cut you off anyway

wongyuseokie · 22 days

Text

Exile | k.m.g

Summary: You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Now, fast forward ten years, and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same; he’s stuck in the past, and you only focus on the future. Neither of you has your priorities straight, and neither realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life, but will love and high school promises keep you two together?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 20,221 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Slice of Life AU! Fluff, Angst, Smut (the holy trinity, if you will)

Content Warnings: Slice of Life AU! (don’t say I didn’t warn you; this won’t be a nice one, or will it hee-hee). Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments. Couples counselling–do note I am not an actual therapist. I just write fiction. Incredibly angsty. Body insecurities and mentions of blood are not much or graphic. Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving). Multiple orgasms, squirting, hand jobs. Use of sex toys. Hickies. Dry humping. Mingyu cums in his trousers (but like, what can I say? He’s in love). Shower sex. Authors Note 1: This is a Seventeen rewrite of an old fic of mine, so if it looks familiar, that’s why hehe.

Author’s Note 2: Thank you to my darling @the-boy-meets-evil for beta'ing this despite being so busy. I love you dearly. Part of the Broken Illusions Stories

“Okay, I kept my mouth shut the entire dinner, but honey, this is the fifth time you’ve been back home since you and Mingyu moved in together, and I still see no ring. No signs of a marriage, nothing,” your mother started to say as she sipped her wine, making you groan as you took a large gulp of yours.

“Can we not ruin every trip back home with this?” You moaned, and your mother shrugged.

“I’m ruining nothing, but honey, ten years, and you two still aren’t engaged or together. As a mother, I want to know you have stability,” your mother spoke, looking down at the red-coloured liquid in her glass.

“I don’t need a husband for stability,” you bit back, making your mother raise her brow in disapproval at you with your tone.

“I never said that, but how long do you two just plan on dating? You two have moved in and been together for ten years. Now? Honey, he hasn’t even come back to visit the last two times you came,” your mother continued explaining, making you groan.

“I’m thinking he dodged a bullet,” you mumbled, earning a sigh from your mother.

“Besides, he hasn’t even proposed, so why should I pressure him?” You suggested, and your mother frowned at you.

“You could ask him?” Your mother offered gently, and you sighed deeply.

“Or are you like him? Dragging your feet?” Your mother questioned, and you shrugged.

“We’re comfortable. Why is that not enough for you?” You asked, genuinely wondering why your mother always brought this topic up.

“Is it enough for you? To be comfortable? If that’s what you are willing to settle for, then sure, but my love, comfort is fine, but it’s dangerous. When you’re too comfy in a relationship, you take every second for granted, and you think it’ll last forever, and you get lazy,” your mother lectured, making you roll your eyes at her.

“Can you stop projecting your marriage or failed marriage onto my thriving relationship?” You asked immediately, feeling guilt surge through your veins at your harsh words.

Your mother only ever wanted to help you.

“Mum,” you started to say, stopping when she held a hand up to stop you.

“It’s because of my failed marriage I can spot the warning signs from a mile away. I’m not saying you and Mingyu will be a repeat of what your father and I were, but if you don’t get clarity on where you two stand, you’ll always be in the grey with him,” your mother explained before finishing off her drink.

“I don’t need him to prove anything to me, but when was the last time you spoke about the future?” Your mother asked, and you fumbled to give her an answer and came up blank, making your mother only sigh more.

“Get some rest. You have an early train to catch tomorrow. This is food for thought,” your mother said kindly before standing up to hug you and heading upstairs.

You sighed deeply, took in the night sky, and thought hard.

You and Mingyu stopped discussing the future when he kissed you at sixteen. Sure, you two were young, but you knew in your heart he was the one. But as your relationship progressed, Mingyu seemed to hold onto the past, and anytime the future would come up, he’d change topics and walk away, and if he tried to reminisce, you’d walk away.

You two were in different tenses, but neither of you ever wanted to acknowledge the present.

The present, where the last time you two had a date night was five months ago, and the last time he made love to you—properly, not just a quick fuck or a sloppy blowjob—but the last time he was intimate with you, was also five months ago. The present you and Mingyu shared looked like a foreshadowing of a hollow future. You let out a frustrated groan.

You and Mingyu had to talk if you wanted to save whatever you two had, but why did it feel like a part of you had already let go?

“Sweetie, the wine may have made me too bold, and I apologise for overstepping. Your relationship is none of my business,” your mother apologised for the fifth time that day, and the most recent apology was in the car on the way to the train station.

“It’s fine. I guess you’re not wrong. You did give me a lot to think about. I got defensive because I’ve felt distant from him, we’ve both not had the time, and I guess I felt like you were calling me out when I know that’s not the case,” you admitted, and your mother gave you a soft smile before turning back to look at the road.

“It’s like a bandaid; maybe he feels the same, and a talk will help, but keeping it in your head, where your demons lie, that’s the worst, so just rip it off and let the wound heal with time,” your mother said wisely making you smile.

“If anything goes wrong, I’m always a safe place for you to come home to,” your mother added, and you nodded at her, thanking her profusely as you hugged her goodbye. While you appreciated her offer, you did not want to be back here sobbing and seeking refuge in a week.

You shook your head, trying to free yourself of the thoughts taking over your mind, taunting you, that you and Mingyu were destined to end.

You two would be fine; you both survived high school and university and would continue to do so in the long run, but one question kept plaguing your mind.

Why was the main aim to survive?

Why wasn’t it to rekindle the flame?

Why did it feel so desperate, and why did he feel so far away? ~~ Warning Signs ~~

It felt weird. That’s the first thing you noted the minute you placed your hand on the doorknob of your apartment. You usually didn’t notice such insignificant details, but the doorknob felt cold.

Was it a preemptive sign that you’d be greeted with coldness from Mingyu?

Or was it the frost that had settled over your relationship that made everything you touched feel cold?

You drew in a deep breath for courage, something to face him. You knew him forever and didn’t know where the sudden apprehension came from. Why did it all feel so difficult?

“Baby!” You were greeted with Mingyu yelling. His arms moved to wrap around your waist and carried you as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Missed you,” Mingyu mumbled against your lips, making you smile, but that moment was short-lived when you saw the state of the house.

“What’s wrong? I know I didn’t do anything, considering you just walked in?” Mingyu joked, placing you down on the floor.

“The house is a state. You knew I was coming home today. Why is it such a mess?” You complained, and Mingyu frowned, following you into the living room.

“Why don’t you nap, and I’ll clean up?” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

“How would I sleep if you’re cleaning up? It’d be noisy, jeez, Mingyu. You know it’s not rocket science to keep a household together,” you nagged, making him frown at you.

“Why are you like this? You just walked into the house and started bitching, I thought you’d update me about how the trip was, but instead, you’re here kicking up a fuss,” Mingyu threw back, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“A fuss? Mingyu, there’s nothing to update. All I got was the third degree about why my boyfriend of ten years can’t commit to anything more. Coming home, I realised her concerns were warranted because you’re still that kid, Mingyu. You wanted to be composed and strong, but even vocalising a future without him hurt you. You need to grow up because I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” your voice faltered at your last words.

“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you feel?” Mingyu mocked sarcastically, and you knew what he was doing. He was using his pride to cover his hurt, and you hated this quality of his. It made him annoying and standoffish.

“I’m so over this. When you want to grow up and have a conversation like an adult, find me, but I’m taking a nap, and once I’m done, I’ll clean up; don’t bother helping. I’m used to cleaning up your messes for you,” you spat, knowing your words hit Mingyu hard. There is so much venom lacing your comments, piercing Mingyu’s heart.

“The bedroom, you should sleep in the guest room. It’s a mess in our bedroom,” Mingyu mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him, scoffing.

“Of course it fucking is. What in this house isn’t a mess?” You asked, making Mingyu look down to the ground. You knew you had gone too far, but you had to make him hear you, and sadly, he only heard you when you were like this.

“Whatever, I’m going to take a nap,” you mumbled, not having the energy to fight any longer as sleep started seeping into your bones.

You awoke a couple feeling extraordinarily guilty and groggy, but Mingyu should have known better. You never needed the house to look perfect, but it should have been clean. Or livable, like adults.

You groaned, deciding to get out of bed and shower before starting the housework. At least it’d wake you up a bit. Since you were in the guestroom, you couldn’t find anything else to wear except one of Mingyu’s oversized shirts, and while you wanted to be petty and not put on anything that resembled him, you knew you were taking it too far.

You sighed, putting on his shirt, smiling at you wrapped up in his clothes, taking in his scent. You never told him, but it always felt like he hugged you tightly, keeping you safe whenever you wore his clothes. They were like a security blanket, one you needed desperately because the owner of the clothes lately gave you no assurance about the relationship.

“Mingyu?” You spoke as you stepped out into the hallway and walked into the living room. It was neat, clean, and tidy, and you immediately felt guilty. Mingyu didn’t deserve your harsh words; he would eventually get the job done, but that’s the problem. It was inevitable, and you didn’t know if you could wait any longer.

You walked towards your shared bedroom to find Mingyu fluffing the pillows and jumping slightly when you touched his back, startling him.

“Sorry, you woke up early, nearly done,” Mingyu rambled, and your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and took in his swollen, red eyes and puffy nose.

“Baby,” you cooed, and Mingyu glared at you, jerking away from your touch.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking kid,” Mingyu spat as he threw the pillow onto the bed and walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, and you crawled onto the bed and sat between his thighs, making him look at you.

“I’m so sorry, I was frustrated,” you apologised, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You used all my insecurities, our past, and the fights we’ve had against me, and that sucked. You called me a kid. You insinuated that I couldn’t keep a household together when I’ve fought tirelessly for us for the past ten years,” Mingyu exclaimed in annoyance, his words making you snap.

“No, you didn’t fight for us; you fought just to have the idea of us, but you got comfortable, but that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never taken the next step,” you cried out, and Mingyu groaned.

“You’re insane. I fought, kept up with your life, adjusted mine, and did all that because I love you, but I don’t know what else to do because clearly, nothing I do is enough for you,” Mingyu answered, his voice getting softer.

“You’re right, you did, but you stopped and got comfortable fuck, Mingyu. I don’t know if you see a future with me. You’ve given me no indication,” you started to say, earning a glare from Mingyu.

“What do you want me to propose?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him.

“Not like this, and not because I forced you,” you added, and Mingyu groaned, getting off the bed and fiddling around in the drawer next to you.

“I was going to do it tonight,” Mingyu admitted calmly as he tossed a black velvet box onto the bed.

“What?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at your confused expression.

“I was going to give you forever tonight, but you never fucking wait, do you? You always rush into the future without caring for what you leave behind. You’ve been five steps ahead of me for so long, and forgive me if I slipped up somewhere along the way, but I got tired of running after you when you’re so ready to let go of me,” Mingyu answered tearfully.

Mingyu plopped down on the bed, his back to you, his head hanging low. You could hear him take in shuddered breaths, and your heart broke because you knew you had hurt him this time.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, moving simultaneously to place a hand on his shoulder, making him look at you with teary eyes as he turned around to sit on the edge of the bed to face you.

“I know I’m not everything you want in a partner. I just thought our love would be stronger. That it would conquer everything, that you’d love me harder than our problems? I know I did, but I guess that’s how immature I am because I guess that’s not reality,” Mingyu lamented, and even though you knew his words could be misconstrued to hurt you, that wasn’t the case. He was thinking out loud.

“Mingyu,” you repeated, making him sigh as he moved back to sit against the headboard, patting the space between his thighs again. This time, you moved to sit between them quickly, your hands moving to pull him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s hair as you patted his back, moving as he cried into the embrace.

“For what?” Mingyu mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

“For ruining a proposal?” Mingyu asked, letting out a dry laugh as he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his tears away and staring at you.

“You didn’t. I guess this fight was bound to happen fuck. I knew we were falling apart, but I foolishly thought that if I ignored our problems or loved you harder, then it’d be okay, we’d be okay,” Mingyu admitted, placing a hand on your cheek and wiping away a tear. You hadn’t realised you were crying until he wiped away the tears.

“But I only did one thing. I only ignored our problems, and I know I only ignored you. I love you more than life, but I failed to show you how much, and now I’m hoping that a shiny ring will fix it all, and I know it won’t,” Mingyu continued to speak, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve used up all my good graces, that I’m sure of, but can we try? One more time? Please? I don’t think I can let you go, not yet. I don’t think I can ever let you go, but if you give me one more chance, my love. I’ll try, and if it’s over, I’ll let you go. Don’t give up on me,” Mingyu begged, and you nodded.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I should have conveyed my feelings to you in a healthier manner instead of simply yelling. Everything I heard from my mum this weekend was in my mind, and I couldn’t get it out. I just kept going over it, again and again, and I hated it, and I guess I just took it out all on you, and I’m so sorry,” you apologised, cradling his face in your hands.

“No, it’s okay. I think we both saw this fight coming. I guess it’s easier to rip off the bandaid?” Mingyu joked, a sad smile adorning his handsome face.

“I just felt so far away from you, so distant, and I guess when everyone questioned me about the integrity of my relationship. It just annoyed me, and instead of talking to you, I lashed out, and I’m sorry for that,” you apologised, meaning every word.

“I love you; I do. I know I haven’t been good at showing it, fuck, our last date was five months ago,” Mingyu started to say, and you knew he’d begin to spiral if you didn’t shut him up in the best way you knew.

“Mingyu,” you said softly, making him look at you as you inched closer and crawled onto his lap, his hands naturally finding your waist.

“We’ll talk, and we’ll be okay,” you encouraged before placing your lips onto his, making him melt into your touch. His hand moved from your waist to rest on the hem of your shit, well, his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as you moved your lips away from his to latch onto his neck, kissing the soft skin, gently nipping it, leaving faint marks, and running your tongue over the spots you bit.

“Baby, if you keep doing that,” Mingyu started to say as you pulled away from his neck to peel the shirt off your body, leaving you in your underwear.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, and sex isn’t going to fix anything, but I do, for once, want to feel close to you again. I want to be loved by you,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded, understanding what you meant as he got off the bed and peeled off his clothes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurted out, making Mingyu laugh.

“Ten years and you still think I’m hot?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled fondly at him.

“You’re always the most handsome man to me, doesn’t matter how many years,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile at you.

“Lie down on your back, princess. I need to show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu instructed, and you nodded, quickly adjusting yourself until you were lying down on the bed, head on the pillow, making Mingyu grin at you as he crawled between your legs.

Mingyu leaned forward, wrapping his lip around your nipple while his other hand massaged your other breast. Mingyu moved his mouth to your other breast and flicked and licked your nipples until they were hard.

Mingyu gave them a final flick, earning a whimper from you. “Oh, the sounds you make for me. I like them,” Mingyu praised as he reached for your panties. Mingyu pulled them off and threw them across the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes and parted your legs, and placed a soft kiss on your clit, making you buck your hips into his mouth.

Mingyu ran his tongue along your slit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, interlocking them at your stomach. Mingyu smirked against your pussy, knowing that he could eat you out for ages in this position, and you wouldn’t be able to move, and all you could do was fall apart on his tongue repeatedly.

This is precisely what Mingyu intended to do as he flicked your clit with his tongue, then wrapped his mouth around your clit, his tongue tracing circles along the swollen nub. Mingyu kept licking you, his pace never faltering, and his rhythm never changing.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“So good,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk, continuing his movements, making you shake in his grip.

“Mingyu,” you cried out in pleasure as you fell apart on his tongue, but Mingyu didn’t stop just because you came. He kept going, sucking on your clit as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you whimpered as he kept licking you, you were sure you were wailing, but you didn’t care.

Not when you were on the precipice of your second orgasm. Your second orgasm hit you harder, and your hands moved to his head as you gently pushed his mouth away from your cunt. Mingyu smiled at you, taking in your fucked out expression.

You sat up abruptly, reaching out to touch his hard cock, but Mingyu stopped you.

“Not tonight. I need to feel you, my love,” he said as he took his cock in his hands and moved to line it up along your pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he entered you. It had been, so you two had sex, so the stretch was a slight shock but one you’d gladly welcome. “Baby, you’re so tight, fuck,” Mingyu hissed as he pushed in further, making you clench around him immediately. You moaned as Mingyu bent down to pull you into a kiss as he started to thrust into you.

You groaned and babbled nonsense as Mingyu pounded into you, moving his hand down to rub your clit as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you choked out, holding onto his toned arms.

“Cum, pretty girl,” Mingyu encouraged as his fingers moved faster against your clit, making you shake and tighten on his cock.

You held onto his muscular arms, “cum, baby,” Mingyu spoke breathlessly, making you shake and tighten around him. It felt incredible, making Mingyu groan as you came around him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu chanted as he pounded into you, groaning as he buried his head between your breasts as he came. Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out of you.

“That was amazing,” you muttered. Mingyu smiled as he laid down next to you and pulled you into his toned chest,

“I’m not saying this to avoid anything, but I know I skipped every step to make things right,” Mingyu said, pulling away gently from you.

“Look, you’ve had a long journey home and a shitty welcome back. I ordered dinner. It should be here soon. Help yourself. Why don’t we chat tomorrow?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

Mingyu smiled softly as he moved closer to you and kissed your forehead softly.

“We’ll be okay,” he said with a smile, except you didn’t know if you could believe him.

Despite the mind-blowing sex, you had just opened a bandaid that held in ten years of hurt.

Now it was open. You would have to feel every burn and sting before you two could heal, and what if that wound was too far gone to recover?

What if there was no saving you two?

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

“Morning,” you mumbled to Mingyu the following day when he walked into the kitchen, hair wet, fresh out of the shower, handsome as always.

“Hey,” Mingyu replied, walking over to kiss your forehead, smiling fondly at you as he sighed, sitting down on one of the counters by the kitchen island.

“So, I was thinking that after last night, as amazing as it was, we should talk,” Mingyu said, and you pouted, nodding.

While you did want to just bask in the bliss and romance of last night with him, you knew if you kept pushing your feelings down, then there would be no saving you two, so you decided to sit across from him, making him grin as he placed a business card on your lap.

“A divorce attorney? Hate to break to you, but we aren’t married,” you joked as you picked up the card.

“Oh, couples counselling?” You said aloud, reading the card, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“I got this from one of my Hyung. They said that when they were about almost to call it quits with their partner, they went here, and even if it was painful and made them feel vulnerable, it’s the only thing that kept them together,” Mingyu explained, placing a hand on your knee.

“You think we’re that far gone that we need professional help?” You asked with a dry laugh, and Mingyu shrugged.

“I don’t think we’re too far gone, but we’ve been together for so many years that I don’t think it’d be too shocking if we’re both holding in a lot and not being straight up with each other, at times and I don’t want what happened last night to happen again. I don’t want us holding things in and exploding,” Mingyu answered calmly.

“Even if the sex was amazing,” Mingyu added, making you smile at him.

“Okay, shall we sort out an appointment or what?” You asked, making Mingyu smile sheepishly at you.

“I kind of already sorted a slot out for us. They open early. They got us a slot today at 4 pm. Is that okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Should I take it as a good sign that you’re so eager to fix us? Or a bad sign that you’re so ready to vent about me?” You joked, making Mingyu pout at you.

“A good sign; I love you so much, and I’ll be damned if I let you go without a fight,” Mingyu answered.

“Let me go?” You repeated.

“I mean if you want out and realise you deserve better after all this, I guess I’ll let you go,” Mingyu mumbled, unable to look at you. His answering, albeit genuine, made you scoff at him.

“Wow, nice to see your resignation already,” you muttered, making Mingyu sigh deeply.

“I’m not giving up, but tell me you don’t already have one foot out the door?” Mingyu asked, making you baulk at him.

“Why would you even think that?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at you, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“You weren’t here, but a gift hamper did arrive from your boss, and while I never snoop, the card was stuck on the hamper. It was a card nudging you to take the plunge and be a manager. Across the world. Might I add? When were you going to tell me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“You said you didn’t want to hear about work at home, remember?” You fired back, and Mingyu groaned.

“I told you that five months ago when I had just lost my job, I wanted you to be able to speak to me. I don’t want surprises like that,” Mingyu gritted, and you sighed.

“So I’m meant to be able to read your mind?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? You never give me a warning ever. You just fucking blindside me, you did this with this apartment, and you did it with this possible promotion,” Mingyu fumed, making you blink at him.

“Look, can we just save this for the therapist?” Mingyu said, inhaling deeply, and you nodded at him, unable to speak.

The apartment? You thought to yourself. Mingyu was elated when you brandished the new keys three years ago. Just how much had he held in, and for how long?

You were ignoring Mingyu for the rest of the day. Even when he came to get you to go to the therapist’s office, you glared at him, ignoring his outstretched hand, walked past him to your car and waited impatiently for him to get in so you could drive to the therapist’s office.

“Can you at least wait for me to put my seatbelt on? Before you start driving?” Mingyu asked sarcastically, annoyance lacing his words.

“Not my fault you’re fucking slow,” you bit back. You weren’t even sure what you were mad about, the fact that the gift ambushed him and didn’t give you a chance to explain. You felt guilty, and instead of speaking to him about that, you thought it’d be best to mask your hurt with insults.

“So, fucking slow,” Mingyu muttered, buckling himself in, and you started to drive once he was safely fastened.

“So, fucking slow, I’m always behind, aren’t I? I never know what you’re up to, or maybe that’s because you’re too fast,” Mingyu spat out in annoyance.

“I waited for you to put your seatbelt on, right?” You retorted weakly, making Mingyu scoff at you.

“That’s the only time you’ve waited for me, and if killing me wasn’t a crime, then I’m sure you would have driven off without a care for me,” Mingyu fumed, making you cower in your seat.

Is that what he thought of you?

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let the hurt show, but you couldn’t hold it in once you were in the parking lot of the therapist’s office.

“We can get out, you know?” Mingyu sassed, earning a choked sob from you.

“Is that what you think of me? I’m so busy trying to move ahead that I’d leave you for dead?” You asked, staring at Mingyu; your eyes blurred with tears, and your heart ached at Mingyu’s words.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fuck. I got frustrated,” Mingyu started to say, earning a glare from you.

“I get frustrated too, and you know, especially with you and our situation, but I have never once wished that you were dead. I wish we’d stop fighting and we were on the same page, sure, but dead? Fuck you, Mingyu,” you cried out, making Mingyu frown as he reached over to undo your seatbelt and pulled you across the console onto his lap.

“I hate that you even could think of that. How could you think I would even want you dead?” You asked, smacking your fists childishly against his chest, making him pout as he took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, I am. I did misspeak. In some shitty way, I feel like if you do ever leave me, then it sure as shit will feel like death,” Mingyu admitted making you frown.

“Why are you so hell-bent on the idea that I will leave you?” You asked, annoyed at his rhetoric, that you’d leave him.

“I don’t know. After last night, the way you lost it, I don’t blame you, but damn, can you blame me. As I said, the way you reacted last night hurt. While I’m not shocked, I can’t deny that it hurt, but that wasn’t an excuse for what I said,” Mingyu answered, and you nodded at him.

“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” you choked out, making Mingyu smile softly at you.

“How’s this when the therapist asks what my downfalls are? I’ll explain that I’m not great at filtering my thoughts?” Mingyu offered, cradling your face, and you pouted, nodding at him.

“No, that’s unnecessary, just don’t say stupid shit like that,” you pouted, and Mingyu nodded, kissing your lips.

“I won’t, I promise. Now shall we go before someone thinks that we’re fucking in the car?” Mingyu asked, a smile creeping onto his handsome face, and you nodded, giggling at him.

“Would that be so bad?” You teased, and Mingyu smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“No, it wouldn’t, but our appointment is in ten minutes, so shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, placing a final kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go,” Mingyu said, sneaking another kiss as you finally climbed out of the car.

“Please make yourselves comfortable, and Doctor Kwan will be out to see you both in a minute,” the receptionist at the therapist’s office instructed you and Mingyu, and you both nodded before plopping onto the sofa.

“This is so oddly comforting. I mean, the room, I thought it’d be like a doctor’s office, but it has a sofa and tissues and flowers on the wall,” you rambled nervously.

“Yeah, I guess therapists want you to be comfortable, especially when you’re about to be very vulnerable for them,” Mingyu offered lamely, unable to come up with a proper answer. You saw him fidgeting and took his hands in yours.

“Breathe. We’re here to work on ourselves. We’re going to be okay,” you said calmly, not entirely sure if what you said was a lie, but right now, you didn’t care if you had to lie to him. He was too jumpy.

“Mr & Mrs Kim, please accept my apologies. I just wanted to prepare the notes before we begin our session,” Dr. Kwan said as he sat across you two.

“Well, you might want to apologise again. We aren’t married,” Mingyu said with a smile, but his voice had no real humour. You were prepared to ignore Mingyu’s quip until you saw him shoot a glare in your direction.

“Oh, but we would have been, but tell me, Dr Kwan, am I meant to say yes when someone tosses a ring at me?” You shot back, and Mingyu scoffed, letting go of your hand and sinking into the couch.

“We need your help because nothing I do is ever enough for her,” Mingyu spat out, making you groan.

“Well, good to know what I’m walking into, Mr Kim. I should tell you that I most certainly knew you weren’t married. Often, couples hide their pain from their therapists, pretend it’s all good, and then tear each other apart behind closed doors. It was, hmm, call it a trick? This way, I can understand how temperamental and fragile this situation and I can provide and facilitate a safe space for you, too,” Dr Kwan explained, making Mingyu glare at him.

“So, you made me insult my girlfriend for science?” Mingyu mocked, and you sighed.

“No, he just pushed a button that I’d push, and you’d do the same behind closed doors, too, so instead of embarrassing me further, can you please shut up and let him work?” You asked curtly.

“Okay, let me set a few ground rules before I get to work,” Dr Kwan started to say as Mingyu shot you a sad look. You immediately felt bad for snapping at him, but you couldn’t forget how ridiculous he was.

“Y/N, is it okay to address you by your first name?” Dr Kwan asked. You nodded.

“Mr Kim, is it okay to address you as Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, looking at Mingyu, and he hummed in response.

“Perfect,” Dr Kwan said, leaning back.

“As I was saying, rules. While I’m giving you guys a safe space to work things through, you must also be committed to ensuring this space stays safe. I appreciate anger, annoyance and frustration, but snarky, underhanded digs will not be tolerated or helped. Telling the other to shut up won’t help either. You can disagree and provide your perspective, but you will not interrupt or ignore each other and talk over one another. Can we agree to that?” Dr Kwan asked, staring at you both, and you nodded immediately.

“Good, now, let’s start. What made you fall in love with Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, immediately jumping into the session. You found it a little unorthodox but liked that he didn’t waste time with small talk.

“We started dating in high school, months before graduation. He was a kind guy, and while he could have fit the bill of a stereotypical jock, he didn’t. He was humble, kind and grounded. I guess he was a jock with a heart,” you smiled softly, recalling that Mingyu was indeed just that.

“He and I were paired up for a project, and I guess after we got our grades, I gave him a big hug, and somehow that hug turned into a kiss, and I guess, ten years later, here we are, in therapy,” your sweet tone fading and turning into a biter tone as you looked at the floor.

“See, this is what she does, thinks of something nice and then fucks it up by following it up with some realistic bullshit. You were doing so well just reminiscing, and you couldn’t just stick to it?” Mingyu asked, his voice rising.

“Another rule, no yelling,” Dr Kwan warned, making Mingyu groan.

“She never lets us be happy long enough. She must always bring up something that kills the moment,” Mingyu added bitterly.

“Then why are you with me if I’m such a killjoy?” you taunted, making Mingyu wipe away a tear.

“Because I fucking love you because you’re so amazing and sure you’re persistent. The need to always think about the future is a pain. But I’m okay with it because I assumed I was part of that future, but I’m not sure if I still am recently,” Mingyu mumbled, making you groan.

“You two need to hit reset. There’s a lot here, I want to see you both separately and together, but I need you two to try something for now. Throughout therapy, we will uncover a lot, a lot of love that you two have for each other, but we will also uncover a lot of pain and hurt, and I don’t want either of you not to have a space to cry it out, so can I suggest that for the next three months, we try something?” Dr Kwan offered, and you both nodded.

“Anything to save us,” Mingyu mumbled, and you scooched over closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh, making him smile sweetly at you.

“Ten years is a long time, and sometimes, you become accustomed to each other, which is wonderful, but it also means you hold in a lot. Anger, resentment and hurt, but because you’ve been together so long, you often suppress these emotions and hope they’ll go away, but they don’t. Instead, they linger like bad perfume, and it gets too much, and that’s where you two are now. I can see you are trying your best to hold onto the relationship, but you’re also scared, to be honest, for fear that it’ll go away, so here’s what I suggest,” Dr Kwan explained, pausing to take a sip of his water.

“So, here’s what I propose, separate bedrooms for the next three months. You two can talk and kiss and be cuddly, but no sex because sex, as good as it may be, undoes a lot of the work, so if you two slip up, I won’t be mad, but it’s more work on your end. This process will take a lot out of you both, therapy, and it’s going to be new adjusting to a new dynamic, but it’s to allow you both a safe space to vent and to be you two have been with each other you’ve lost yourselves along the way, it’s time to find what you two are as individuals before you two can be a couple again,”

“We never broke up. You know that, right?” Mingyu said, glaring at Dr. Kwan.

“I’m aware, but you two are also just holding on, and I’m guessing that’s not enough?” Dr Kwan challenged, and Mingyu huffed out.

“So, what we move out? Or one of us does?” Mingyu asked, continuing to glare at Dr. Kwan.

“We have three bedrooms; we can just separate our stuff. We can each move into one of them for now,” you suggested, placing a hand on Mingyu’s thigh and making him look at you with sad eyes.

“I just, I get that this is therapy, but why does it feel like you’re making us break up before we even have a chance,” Mingyu answered sadly, making you smile softly at him.

“I’m telling you two to hit reset. You both need a fresh start, not away from each other, but you two need a break,” Dr Kwan answered softly, and Mingyu sighed, nodding.

“It’s three months, and we will evaluate every week. Is that good?” Dr. Kwan asked, and you nodded, noticing that Mingyu nodded slowly.

“Three months, and we’ll be, okay?” Mingyu asked, turning to face you.

“Yeah, we will,” you answered, unsure if you two would be, but you had to try.

You had to try for him.

For you. ~~ I’m Not Your Problem Anymore ~~

“So, that went well?” Mingyu said slowly, making you roll your eyes at his words as you kept driving.

“The digs, the underhanded comments, you think that went well?” You asked, and Mingyu frowned.

“You weren’t exactly a saint either,” Mingyu mumbled, and you sighed deeply.

“Can we deal with this once we get home? I don’t fancy fighting while I’m driving,” you asked, and Mingyu hummed in response as he stared out the window, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong.

“Talk,” Mingyu practically demanded the minute you shut the front door behind you.

“Why the hell are you speaking to me like that?” You asked, and Mingyu groaned as he kicked off his shoes before sitting on the couch.

“You said some shitty things, and while I admit so did I, you acted like a child,” you started to say, stopping when you saw Mingyu’s hardened expression.

“What is it with you calling me a child? May I remind you that we’re the same age?” Mingyu asked, glaring at you.

“Then act like a fucking adult, you don’t talk, you lash out, and you just hope that love fixes everything, but it doesn’t. It’s not enough to keep two people together when they’re breaking apart,” you exclaimed, frustrated at yourself for being unable to maintain your calm and at him for never being realistic.

“You always said that love will keep us together, that our love was stronger than anything out there. What happened to that girl? What happened to the girl who made wishes upon stars, kissed me goodnight, and hugged me whenever I was down? I fell in love with her,” Mingyu lamented, making your heart drop.

“So, you don’t love me anymore?” You whispered, afraid of his answer.

“I do, my love, but I’m just not sure you do,” Mingyu said, moving to wipe away a tear that fell down your cheek.

“Why do you keep suggesting that?” You asked, shrugging his touch off, making him pout.

“Well, you just moved away from my touch, in general, over, I don’t know, the last two years you’ve been in the future, and you’ve left me in the dust; you left me all alone. I mean, hell, I was the happiest when you told me you wanted to move in with me, but you didn’t even bother asking me to view a place. You just got the keys and showed up at my doorstep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it always felt like you’d cut me out of the process whenever you could,” Mingyu explained, his eyes getting glossy.

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally make me feel unwanted, but that’s what it felt like. I felt like an understudy, waiting in the wings for you to consider my opinion,” Mingyu said.

“I didn’t know,” you said lamely, and Mingyu nodded.

“You wouldn’t, I never told you, and you’re not a mind reader, nor do I expect you to be. It would have been nice to know that you still cared for me even if everything went bad. Hell, the night I lost my job, you just kissed me and told me it’d be alright, and I get it, it’s a hard thing to comfort someone about, but my love, you didn’t even try, and granted, I’m sure there have been moments where I haven’t done my bit. Still, we were the couple that annoyed others with how mushy we were and how much we adored each other. Now it just feels like we tolerate each other,” Mingyu finished standing up, and you stood up and reached for his wrist, making him turn around to look at you.

“Can you not walk away?” You asked, not a shred of anger in your voice. You just wanted to hear him.

“I’m not. I am, however, getting some wine because I think we’ll need it,” Mingyu replied, pulling you into his chest and placing the softest kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, so let’s talk,” you said, not wasting a second as Mingyu returned to the couch with two glasses of wine.

“You waste no time, do you?” Mingyu asked, chuckling, and you shrugged.

“I’d rather fix us sooner than later,” you commented, and Mingyu shrugged.

“Don’t good things take time? Besides, this isn’t something you can rush; didn’t you always tell me that patience is a virtue and that all good things take time?” Mingyu mumbled as he sipped his wine, making you glare at him.

“What is with you and reminding me of everything I once did? Is that what you want? The ‘old’ me? The one you fell in love with ten years ago?” You snapped, making Mingyu frown.

“You keep missing the point, I don’t yearn for the ‘old’ you, but I yearn for your love. It just seems like you’re putting up with me. I only remember the ‘old’ you because no matter how much we fought, I at least knew that you loved me,” Mingyu mumbled, making you frown at him.

“Don’t fix it by saying that you love me. I know you do, but I wonder if you’re still in love me because that’s a big difference. I mean, some I know you do, but other days I feel like I’m watching you, unsure if I fit anywhere in your life, but what scares me most is that I’m not so sure I fit in your heart any longer,” Mingyu admitted taking a deep breath, before looking at you with teary eyes.

“Can you tell me when I’ve hurt you? I’m sure it must have been many times with how you feel, but maybe the most recent example?” You asked, unsure how to respond to the fact that Mingyu poured his heart out to you, and all you could do was make him relive a moment where you had hurt him.

“Not hearing about the promotion, that sucked, like I had to find out because of a present. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu asked, nothing but hurt and genuine curiosity etching his features.

“I guess when you told me you didn’t want to hear about work, I just stopped telling you. I didn’t want to make you upset,” you admitted lamely.

“My love, I got over being let go. If I’m not wrong, I said that once, and a month later, I remember being fine and asking you to tell me about work and the hardships or the bad days at work, but you never did. You decided you wouldn’t share that part of your life with me. While I can understand why you thought I would continue holding a grudge, do you think I’d hold it until it broke us in two?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Would you have taken the job?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m over it, and if it’s something that’s in the past, I’m okay never to bring it up again,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“I’d like that a lot,” you answered.

“I acted out of line with what I said in the car, and you’re right. I did act like a kid at the therapist’s office, but it’s just when it comes to the idea of possibly even losing you? Then my ability to think straight and act rationally goes to shit because there’s nothing rational about love, but you find that balance, and I’m willing to work on myself but wait for me? While I try and catch up?” Mingyu asked, making your lips tremble, and your tears fall.

“I think for so long,” you started to say, pausing to wipe your tears away.

“For so long, I thought you didn’t care. I thought you got comfortable, wanted to leave, or be comfortable enough to stay but not be with me. So I kept pushing on with my life because I didn’t think you wanted me to be in your future,” you admitted, staring into the wine glass.

“Y/N, you and I. I guess we’ve both been living in different tenses. I’ve been too busy reminiscing our past, and you’ve been running into the future. It’s left our present a fucking shit show,” Mingyu observed, making you giggle at his description.

“Let’s try? I want you to have the most amazing future, but can I ask you to slow down? Ever so slightly? To let me find my footing. I want to catch up with you so we can have a future. Together?” Mingyu asked, pulling you closer to him.

“I can, and I’m sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’s okay, from here on out, what we’ve both done, it’s forgotten and forgiven these next three months. Let us make a real go at this? At fixing us?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled in agreement.

Mingyu grinned, pulling you into the softest kiss ever.

“I know we are meant to separate rooms and all that, but can I just have you in my arms tonight?” Mingyu asked, kissing your forehead, and you nodded at him.

You agreed because you didn’t know what the next three months would bring about, so for tonight, you just wanted to lay in his arms and forget the hurt and the reality because you’d never admit it like Mingyu would. Still, the thought of living in a world where he was no longer yours was enough to make you break your heart into a million pieces.

“We’ll be okay,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest as he held you, and he responded with a kiss on your forehead.

You frowned into the embrace. You just hoped it would come true if you said something repeatedly.

If you kept saying that you and Mingyu would be okay, you would be. ~~ Balancing on Breaking Branches ~~

“Moving day, huh?” Mingyu joked, making you grin slightly at him.

“Barely, we’re just diving up rooms and our stuff. It’s just three months,” you answered as you walked over to your closet and mentally sorted out what articles you wanted to take.

“Actually, you can just stay in this room. Besides, I don’t have much stuff anyway, just some clothes and my computer has always been in a separate room,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“Thanks, it’d be a nightmare if you made me move all my things out,” you laughed, making Mingyu smile.

“Besides, it’s all temporary, three months, and I’m back to cuddling you every night and sleeping,” Mingyu smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked Mingyu as he grinned to himself, looking around the room.

“Just kind of thinking how we broke into this room and every other room and surface in this apartment,” Mingyu said casually, a blush creeping onto his face as he recalled the memories, making you smile shyly.

“Sex in every corner of the house. I still can’t believe we did it in a storage closet, of all things,” you recalled, smiling but shaking your head at how you and Mingyu had really come through on the idea of breaking into every part of the house.

“But the sex was pretty good, wasn’t it? A tighter space meant that I had to hold you closer to me and fuck you harder,” Mingyu teased, his voice low, dangerous and teasing.

“Mingyu,” you warned, unable to keep the smile off your face, as you moved away from the closet and sat on the bed.

“Besides, I’m just recalling fond memories, especially when we have a sex ban placed on us for three months,” Mingyu explained with a pout, making you smile.

“Anyways, do you know where I keep my phone charger? I usually use yours, so,” Mingyu trailed off, and you nodded at him, knowing that he never bothered because you were always there, and it just wouldn’t be the same for the next three months.

“Yeah, this drawer,” you gestured to the bedside table beside you. Mingyu nodded, rummaging through the drawer, and you noticed he kept searching for a while.

“Did you not find your charger?” You asked, turning to face him, your eyes widening when you saw what he held in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, making him smirk at you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned, cursing yourself. Mingyu walked over and grabbed the device.

“A vibrator in plain sight?” Mingyu teased.

“Can you give it back?” You groaned, and Mingyu grinned at you.

“Is this the one we bought and took with us on our trip to Bali? Where you couldn’t get enough of me?” You gulped, and you felt your mouth water.

“Not my fault you were shirtless for the entire trip. It’s hard to behave when you look like that,” you huffed out as Mingyu walked back to the bed with the vibrator in his hand.

“So I’m hot?” Mingyu asked with a smirk.

“You know you are,” you mumbled, and you knew you were about to undo all the therapist’s work with your one movement, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Not when Mingyu was looking at you like that, wetting his lips as he caressed the vibrator in his hand.

“Oh, do I?” Mingyu asked, making you glare.

Instead of answering, you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into you. Mingyu pulled you into a kiss and pushed you down, one hand moving to your jeans and undoing them.

You kicked off your jeans and panties, and Mingyu’s knuckles met with your wet folds.

“You’re soaking wet,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you nodded.

“Wait,” Mingyu instructed as he pulled your shirt off,

“Beautiful,” he praised as he took in your nude state.

“Pretty,” Mingyu muttered, moving his mouth along your body as he ran the vibrator along your folds.

“Fuck,” you hissed as the cold metal touched your swollen cunt. Mingyu pushed two fingers into you and switched on the vibrator. You felt your eyes roll back as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you. While the vibrator constantly pulsated against your clit.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing his muscular forearm.

“Good girl, you take my fingers so well,” Mingyu moaned, praising you as you fell apart under his touch. You let out whimpers, biting your lips to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you groaned, and Mingyu smirked at you, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips.

“Can’t we just, I guess, call that goodbye sex? Or something,” Mingyu asked as he stared at your fucked out expression.

“We could, but I think we need to tell our therapist,” you breathed, making him pout, “as good as that felt, we just took a few steps back,” you added, making Mingyu sigh as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Three months, and we’ll be okay,” Mingyu claimed before placing another kiss on your lips.

“This is just a little mistake. You wanted to honour his wish, but you also knew that lying would do you two no good. No need to tell the therapist,” Mingyu repeated, making you nod slowly at him.

So, you did what was right.

“Okay, Y/N, what you did wasn’t odd or unusual. Maybe couples slip up, especially when it comes to sex and trying not to have it, and I get it. You two have been together for ages. Giving up sex isn’t easy, nor exactly is it meant to be,” Dr Kwan clarified, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were undoing everything.

“You’re human. It’s normal to slip up, but being honest and working from that is important,” Dr Kwan added. You nodded.

“Well, still, I’m sorry,” you apologised, making Mingyu scoff.

“You kissed me; may I remind you that? So, stop acting like you’re wronged or something. You make me sound like a dick,” Mingyu spat out, and you were about to respond when Dr. Kwan cleared his throat, stopping you.

“Well, Mingyu, you might have just given us the material for our first session. When do you two think it all went wrong? Between you both? Mingyu, I’d like to hear from you, and then you, Y/N,” Dr. Kwan suggested.

“Y/N’s been gifted, so good at everything she does, and I guess I’ve gone with the flow, but being an adult in this unforgiving world, that’s not enough. Not even, and it seemed like every time she was successful or achieved something, it made me feel smaller and like I wasn’t enough,” Mingyu rambled, making you look at him.

“I know she never did it on purpose, but that’s how I felt, and I guess I stopped trying to be better for her because it always seemed like she was too far away for me to catch up to, and so I was just happy being in her life, as a spectator,” Mingyu finished letting out a deep exhale.

“I don’t begrudge her for succeeding. I wished that sometimes she could look away from the blinding lights of success to notice me, just for a second at least,” Mingyu added, shrugging.

“Did you ever wish for her success to go away?” Dr. Kwan asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“Never, I only wished that maybe I could do half of what she did, maybe then I’d be enough for her, but I know that’s not what she ever thought, but I internalised her success as a sign of my failures,” Mingyu answered.

“Y/N, is there anything you’d like to add?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise he felt like that,” you answered lamely.

You didn’t realise that Mingyu felt the way he did. He was always so guarded with his response and just quiet and silently supported you no matter what you did.

“I never told her to be fair,” Mingyu interjected, and you sighed at him.

“I can’t read your mind. How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me something?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you in disbelief.

“The way I read your mind about a proposal?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned.

“Okay, you two, we need to hit pause. There’s too much here to not cause a massive fight,” Dr. Kwan said, interrupting you two.

“She didn’t even tell me that she got an opportunity for a promotion or anything. She keeps so much to herself and then gets mad when I can’t read her mind,” Mingyu added, and you sat in annoyance, but you stayed quiet, knowing that he wasn’t wrong with his judgements.

“I lost my job five months ago, and since then, she’s never really told me about her success and in her defence, I did tell her not to talk about it, but I know that after a week or so, I told her that it was okay, but she just kept everything to herself,” Mingyu added.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you started to say, turning to face Mingyu.

“I know you said it was okay, but you always put others before you, and I didn’t want to be another reason for you to suppress how you felt,” you explained, placing your hand on his, and he responded in kind, moving his hand to lace them with yours.

“I see that love is not lost between you two. You need to figure out how to communicate. In a relationship as long as yours, it’s easy to assume that the other party knows or should know. Still, the truth is, all the familiarity and knowledge in the world is never enough to predict how humans will behave,” Dr. Kwan said wisely.

“I went to visit my mum; the night before, we had a huge fight which led us here; she kept pushing and asking if something was wrong with us because it had been ten years, and there was no proposal. So, I kept trying to diffuse the situation, but unfortunately, her words sowed a seed of insecurity in me. I lost it and snapped at Mingyu, which caused him to reveal the fact that he was going to, in fact, propose to me that night,” you rambled, explaining what you thought was the final breaking point.

“I see, Y/N. Mingyu, is being married something you two have always wanted to be? Or is that something that you two have never discussed?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“We discussed it, I think, after our first year together. Mingyu brought it up,” you recalled, smiling at you fondly and starting to explain the memory. ~~

Nine years ago

“In my defence, their vows were touching, and that’s why I ended up crying like a baby,” Mingyu defended, making you laugh as you wiped his teary eyes and kissed his red nose.

You both were in the powder room, helping Mingyu look more presentable after he cried his eyes out at your cousin and her husband exchanging their vows.

“But I also started to imagine, what if it was us up there? One day? Look, I always found weddings boring in the past because I was like fuck this. I’m always watching other people find their ‘happily ever after,’ but I have wanted that for us since you came into my life. Our happily ever after,” Mingyu declared, making you smile at him, your eyes holding but love and fondness for your boyfriend.

“Okay, I know we’re only 19 and legit, maybe way too young to decide the future now, but I know this for sure, regardless of when that moment happens. I just know that there is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with; only you complete me, and a life without you, well shit, that’s just miserable, isn’t it?” Mingyu spoke, making you swoon at him.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You asked as you pulled him into a soft kiss, making him smile into the kiss.

“I think it’s me. I’m the lucky one,” Mingyu mused.

“How about we’re both lucky?” You added, and Mingyu smiled.

“Lucky to have found a love like this; yeah, we’re pretty fucking lucky,” Mingyu agreed as he pulled you into another kiss.

“Huh?” You asked as you felt Mingyu’s fingers on your face and realised he was wiping away your tears.

“It was so much easier, and I just want that back,” you cried, and Mingyu, out of instinct, moved closer, pulling you in closer to him.

“Y/N, you two were younger, and the world is kinder to two kids in love than adults in love. Nothing like taxes, societal expectations, or work threatens the tenderness and beauty of love. Still, with patience and dedication to fix the relationship, you can get through it, and it doesn’t seem like Mingyu wants anything else but the same thing as you,” Dr Kwan explained, making you smile through the tears and placing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, making him blush.

“I’ll schedule you two for a week later, but let’s keep up the same routine. No sex and kisses are fine, but keep it to that. When you two filled out the form, I think you mentioned that your first date was at a dive bar? Why don’t you two, over the weekend, go to one, not as a date, but go and maybe rekindle the memories, remind yourselves that the pain of therapy is worth it,” Dr. Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“We can do that,” Mingyu answered, and you smiled at him.

Maybe this is why you two needed someone to guide you both through all the pain, and today felt like a breakthrough, and perhaps that’s what you both just needed, someone to help you get through the shitty parts to get to the good part.

You two weren’t broken but bent, and someone needed to straighten you out.

“We can. We can be okay again,” you mumbled, but you knew Mingyu heard it with the way he squeezed your hand softly.

“We will,” he whispered in your ear.

~~ Never Learned to Read My Mind ~~

You and Mingyu really did try hard. The kisses were kept to a minimum, almost so much that Mingyu got frustrated with you. He eventually pouted enough one evening. It ended up in you two having a thirty-minute make-out session.

“We shouldn’t,” you mumbled as you continued to kiss him.

“See, you say that, but you’re kissing me,” Mingyu replied, moving his lips away to speak, only to place them back on yours within a second.

“Mingyu,” you warned, pulling away and making him sigh at you.

“Fine, but can you blame me? This is the first time you and I have spoken and kissed in two weeks, and no, that goodnight kiss three nights ago doesn’t count. I just get that Dr. Kwan said we should try to find ourselves and all that, but it feels like you’re acting like we’ve already broken up or something,” Mingyu admitted, frowning.

“I’m giving us space to grow,” you defended, and Mingyu nodded.

“I get that, but shouldn’t it foster an environment of encouragement? The space you’ve created is cold and uninviting, like hell. Your room door is always closed,” Mingyu added, making you pull away from his touch and sit next to him instead of on him.

“I’m working, Mingyu. I don’t have as much free time as you, so forgive me if I want some peace and quiet while I work,” you sassed, and Mingyu pouted.

“Free time? You mean unemployed?” Mingyu joked, but you glared at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant to say,” you huffed, and Mingyu nodded.

“Okay, forget it. I only say that because I wanted to show you something the other day, and your door was closed,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded at him.

“So, show me now?” You suggested, and Mingyu nodded, pulling up yet another photo he took of a cake that served as inspiration–he’d been taking pictures of cakes, cookies and many other baked goods for the last few months, telling you it was for something unique. Still, to you, it just seemed like he was building up his ‘cakes I like’ Pinterest board.

“See?” Mingyu asked excitedly.

“What am I meant to be seeing? Another cake? All you do is take pictures of the cake. Where is this going?”

“You could have bothered to ask more about it instead of dismissing it entirely. I don’t dismiss things that excite you,” Mingyu mumbled.

“Fine, show me,” you asked, and Mingyu shook his head at you.

“No, because you’re asking because you feel bad, not because you care, forget it. You’re right it’s just cake. How would you notice? How would you notice when you haven’t noticed anything about me in the last few months?” Mingyu spoke, making you groan in frustration.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. Look after work tomorrow. I made reservations at a dive bar for us, I’ll send you a location, and you can head over after work?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Night,” Mingyu mumbled, kissing your cheek as he got up and sulked as he walked to his room.

You felt terrible. Since when did you stop caring about the little things, especially him? He was always doing much more, but you didn’t know why. It never felt like it was enough for you.

“Hey!” Mingyu greeted you the following evening as you approached him at the dive bar.

“This place is quite nice,” you commented, and Mingyu nodded.

“Are you drinking?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“I drove here,” you replied, and Mingyu pouted.

“Let me drive and have a drink. I have a scratchy throat, so I can’t really drink,” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him in shock.

“When did you get a cold?” You asked, had you really been so unkind and caring to not even ask your boyfriend if he was unwell.

“Nah, just a tickle, don’t worry, I got meds, and I’m on the mend,” Mingyu added, ushering you away, and you frowned at him but decided against pushing further.

You were glad you were tipsy, but you weren’t exactly happy at the scene unfolding in front of you an hour later.

A random girl decided to approach Mingyu to gush about how handsome he was and how incredible his biceps were and even went so far as to trace his arms, and that was it: you saw red.

You hated how he didn’t stop her, either. Instead, he giggled and flexed a bit more.

“Miss, do you always with other people’s boyfriends?” You spat out, and the girl stepped back in fear upon hearing the venom in your voice.

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You just didn’t look like you were his girlfriend. You just sat there, far away from him, and you two barely spoke, so I thought it was okay to appreciate it, but I’m so sorry,” the girl apologised, but you couldn’t help your anger.

“So even then, you just flirt with anyone you see?” You asked, embarrassing the girl, and Mingyu turned to face you with a hardened expression, apologising to the girl first.

“What the hell was that?” Mingyu

“Home, now,” you answered, and Mingyu sighed as he paid for the bill while you stormed out of the bar.

You stormed into the house, and Mingyu followed you into your room. You saw red. There was no other colour in the world, only red. You couldn’t believe Mingyu giggled and smiled at the girl like he did.

The way he would with you.

“That was so uncalled for,” Mingyu started to say, making you whip your head to look at him. Your eyes were red and watery, and Mingyu immediately wanted to put the fight to bed and hold you in his arms.

Mingyu mentally slapped himself, but all he did was laugh and smile at the girl. She complimented him, and for a second, he lost his mind and indulged because it had been so long since he felt good about himself. So long since someone called him handsome, and hell, you stopped acting like you were interested in him, but it was wrong and stupid, and he caused you to cry.

“Right, me telling a girl to back off my man is wrong and pushing her away was uncalled for? Did you like it then? The way her tits pressed up against your chest. Is that why you didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arm around yours? Would you have backed away if I didn’t push her away, or would you have gone home with her?” You accused, ranting and firing away accusations at Mingyu, who paused to frown at you, but he knew he didn’t have a reason to defend himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop her, but I would have never cheated. I just got caught up in the attention, it has been so long since you ever showed me any affection, and I liked it, thinking that, oh, I don’t know, at least I’m not chopped fucking liver,” Mingyu fired back, making you shrink.

“You couldn’t tell me that? You had to get some leggy chick to get your validation?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“You don’t make it easy to speak to you. You’ve taken this ‘break’ so seriously that I feel like you’re just practising for the real thing. Last week, I got a new cookbook, and. In the past, you’d always be excited to see if I could replicate any recipes, but now? You didn’t even care to see it. I got a new shirt for our date night, and you didn’t compliment me. I’m not saying I need to be coddled, but you act like my presence is a bother, so forgive me if I wanted to seek out someone’s compliments because you know what? I can’t recall the last time you ever said I was good at anything,” Mingyu scoffed, making you standstill.

“You have so many cookbooks; how is it different from the dozens you have? How was I meant to notice just one?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you.

“That’s not the point. Whenever I want to share anything with you, you act like it’s the biggest inconvenience or you don’t care. Either way, it doesn’t make me feel good about myself,” Mingyu sputtered out, his anger bubbling, and he knew he had to stop this fight before he said something he regretted.

“Look, we’ve both had a lot to drink. Maybe we should talk about this later?” Mingyu offered, as he tried to guide you to the bed, to help you sleep so you wouldn’t continue this drunken rant.

“So, you entertained her because she gave you attention, or was she prettier?” You asked, immediately feeling your eyes well up. You tried not to break in front of him. He was the one flirting with another woman, not you, but you couldn’t help how insecure it all made you.

Was he done with you? Was this his subtle way of telling you he wouldn’t care?

“Hey, no, don’t you dare,” Mingyu interrupted your thoughts as he cradled your face.

“No one is more perfect than you. I’m sorry for giving in to the attention. No matter how bad we are, it’s not an excuse,” Mingyu explained as he wiped away the tears that fell down his face.

“But she noticed what I didn’t. Maybe deep down, that’s all you want, and I wish I were better for you,” you replied tearfully, making Mingyu’s heart ache with how you tore yourself apart.

“Mingyu!” You squeaked when you felt him carry you and sit on the bed.

“Take this off,” you mumbled, pointing to his shirt, and you stared at him for a second as he peeled his shirt off.

You leaned down to kiss his shoulder, then another, until you reached his neck.

“Y/N, baby, you’re drunk,” Mingyu groaned, trying to suppress a moan, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him as he melted under your touch.

“We’ve had sex drunk before. I’m pretty sure our first time was when we were both drunk,” you spoke as you moved to kiss his jaw, making him wrap his arms around your waist.

“Baby,” Mingyu groaned as his hands moved to rest above your ass.

“Hm?” You asked, looking at him, pausing before your lips connected with his.

“Let me show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu said, giving in to your touch as he stood up and swiftly placed you on the bed. Mingyu usually would at least take some time peeling your clothes off, unravelling each bit of your body to him, but he couldn’t wait tonight.

“So fucking pretty,” Mingyu praised as he laid between your thighs, your dripping cunt at his face.

Mingyu slowly moved his finger inside you, “do you want to cum? You’re already clenching my finger so nicely, baby,” Mingyu praised as he rolled his thumb over your clit. You nodded. Mingyu pulled his finger out of you, making you whine.

Mingyu smirked at you before latching his lips onto your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned at the contact.

“Mingyu, wait, stop,” you said, making him sit up immediately.

“Did I go too far?” Mingyu asked, worrying, lacing his handsome features. You shook your head and moved your foot to his growing bulge.

“Please fuck me, just I need you,” you begged, and Mingyu wasted no time in peeling off his clothes and positioning himself between your legs and pushing into you, making you moan and hiss at the stretch.

Mingyu placed your legs on either side of his shoulder. He pushed in and fucked you hard and deep. His pace was relentless, and you whimpered at his pace.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry, but I need to cum,” Mingyu moaned as he pounded into you.

“It’s okay, fuck me, Mingyu.”

Mingyu removed your legs from your shoulder and flipped you onto your hands and knees. He pushed into you, his hands gripping your hips. You nearly collapsed at how deep he was hitting inside you.

“Fuck, more, please. Mingyu.” He bit down on your shoulder then kissed and ran his tongue over the area.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu cursed as he came inside you, moaning as his cum filled you. You felt him flip you over again, his mouth latching onto your cunt again, licking and cleaning you, making you cum again in the process, and you pushed his head away gently as you came again.

“No more baby, too sensitive,” you moaned, making Mingyu smile sweetly as he placed a soft kiss on your trembling pussy.

“Wait, stay, please,” you asked, pouting at him, making him smile.

“I will. I was just going to clean you up properly and give you a shirt. You always get cold after sex,” Mingyu said, making you smile.

“Stay here,” Mingyu said, kissing your forehead as he headed out to grab you a shirt. He returned with a wet towel and gently pressed it against your throbbing pussy, smirking at your reaction.

A few minutes later, you were clean and dressed in one of his shirts.

You were already nodding when Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Mingyu moved his hand under your shirt and placed his arm around your waist.

You moaned softly as he drew small circles into your skin. You gently pushed his arm away and turned to bury your face in his chest, making him smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you weren’t entirely sure if you heard it, but for a while, you didn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, pretending that you two were alright.

~~ I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before ~~

“So, you two had a fight and fixed it with sex,” Dr Kwan summarised, and you and Mingyu looked to the ground.

“Look, we’re barely three months into this, and while I like that you both love each other enough to be intimate, it seems like you use sex as a coping mechanism to put actual issues on the back burner until they inevitably blow up in your face,” Dr Kwan added.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Mingyu defended.

“A series of misunderstandings has brought you two here, and right now, you two are giving in too quickly,” Dr Kwan added.

“Maybe three months is too long. Can we try a month, no intimacy, nothing, please? Then we can revisit this issue?” Dr Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“Dr Kwan, can I request one thing, though? Can I ask that my lovely girlfriend and I go for one more date, like a proper one, the way we used to be before we tried the full-on ‘break’ thing?” Mingyu asked, and Dr. Kwan nodded.

“Y/N?” Dr Kwan asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t see why not,” you answered, making Mingyu smile, and you noticed how his smile reached his eyes for the first time in so long.

“We’re here!” Mingyu announced as he parked the car outside a carnival, helped you out of the car, and held your hand like he always did, complimenting you from home to the carnival gates.

“It’s crazy empty?” You asked him, and he smiled.

“It opens next week, but I pulled a few strings; I wanted to enjoy this with you and only you,” Mingyu admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, making you smile at him.

“Shall we?” He asked you nodded.

He took you to nearly every booth, and with each new game, your smile grew, as did his. You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with him all over again, but here was proving you wrong.

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu waved his hand in front of your face. You were both finally back in the car after a night of kisses, jokes and games, and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you answered.

“About?” Mingyu asked, and you turned to face him,

“I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone again, but tonight, with you. I think I may have just fallen in love with you all over again,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile as he leaned over to pull you into a kiss.

“I love you,” Mingyu said as he pulled away from your lips.

“I love you too,” you answered, making him grin.

“We’re okay, we’ll be okay,” Mingyu assured as he took your hand and drove home.

However, when he said it, you didn’t find any comfort in his words because you knew that you were about to hurt him, not because you wanted to but because you had been reflecting and noticed that all this time.

Mingyu had been bending backwards to become the version of a man you supposedly wanted. Still, all this time, you only complained and poked holes and found flaws; he loved you despite all this. His love for you was too forgiving, too great, and one you didn’t think you deserved any longer.

So you could only do what you did best, and that was to hurt him before he broke himself trying to fix the both of you.

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

Mingyu was fuming. Well, not even raging would do justice to how angry he was. It was almost comical. He thought smoke would come out of his ears like a cartoon character. It would have almost been funny.

Almost.

However, nothing about this moment or the letter in Mingyu’s hand was funny; none of this was funny.

“Hey,” you chirped as you walked into Mingyu’s bedroom. He was late for dinner, and your smile dropped when you saw his face and then recognised the paper in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say and stopped as he held a hand up to stop you.

“Dear Y/N, you’re incredible, and I want you to consider this position again. You have insights that set you apart from everyone else. I think you could do an amazing job helping us set up our offices in Japan,” Mingyu read out the letter, his voice fading into a whisper at the mention of Japan.

“I thought we were past this?” Mingyu asked, and you immediately felt yourself become defensive.

“No, I only said that to calm you down, but Mingyu, this is my career,” you protested, making Mingyu scoff.

“I’d never stop you from pursuing your dreams. I know you’re good at your job. I’d encourage you to take this position, but you lied, and you got this three days before the date night and didn’t bring it up? It fucking hurts, and when I asked you if you were happy, you said yes? But kept this from me? What were you going to do, just fucking pack up and leave me?” Mingyu asked, raising his voice, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare give me an attitude! You hid this from me. Why?” Mingyu asked, tossing the letter onto the floor.

“We can still talk about it, and then we can figure out a way with schedules, and maybe I can save and fly out and visit you,” Mingyu rambled, making you bite your lip as you knew what you were about to say next would break him.

“I accepted the job,” you whispered, but Mingyu heard you clearly. Your voice rang in his ears, four words taunting him, haunting him.

“Mingyu,” you said, trying to approach him, and he moved away from you.

“You did what?” Mingyu asked, not wanting an answer.

“I just didn’t think us doing these three months did us any good, yes we got to get our issues out in the open, but Mingyu, we still broke the main rule, we had sex, we couldn’t be bothered to make it work without fucking,” you defended, each word piercing Mingyu’s heart deeper and deeper.

“Doesn’t the fact we couldn’t stop loving each other show you how tethered we are to one another? How much we need each other?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Yes, a crippling need,” you answered, making him breathe deeply, trying to hold back a sob.

“So, you just decided to do what you do best? Hurtle into the future without a fucking care for me? I gave up everything for you to make you happy, and you’re fucking running?” Mingyu taunted, making you snap.

“I never asked you, but you were so fucking stupid to have walked away from friends. Friends who could give you a job or something, and now, you’re here begging me to stay because you didn’t get your shit together,” you spat out, knowing that none of your words held any truth.

Still, you needed him to stop fighting because you weren’t sure if you could anymore.

“You didn’t ask me because I thought it was you and me against the world,” Mingyu yelled.

“Well, it’s not! Grow up! Get a job, plan your future instead of ruining mine just because you don’t have a planned future,” you fumed, stopping yourself, but you knew it was too late.

“No, you’re right. I don’t because I thought you were my future, but now, you’re gone, so I guess you’re right. I don’t have a future, so please leave,” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t help yourself, but you knew if you comforted him now, you’d give in, and you couldn’t.

“Mingyu, this is my apartment, so why don’t you step right out?” You mocked, making Mingyu let out a broken sob.

“I can’t waste my time and cry for you any longer. There’s no more crying that I can do for you,” you added as Mingyu pulled out a suitcase and started to throw his things in.

“You can leave in a week or something. There’s no rush,” you mumbled, feeling nothing but shame and guilt.

“You were my homeland. You were my safe space, and now that you’ve gone and thrown me out, put me in exile, what’s the point? This isn’t my house anyway, and clearly, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Mingyu answered tearfully as you watched him pack.

You stood and watched him pack and remove the necklace you once gave him and place it on the bedside table.

Mingyu took another look around the room and then wiped his face before grabbing his passport and documents out of a drawer and stuffing them into the suitcase.

“Where will you go?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“That’s none of your concern, I’ll be fine, but you,” Mingyu paused to steady his voice.

“You’ll be fine, excel at everything, and do so well, my love, shit sorry, Y/N. You’ve always been amazing, so thank you for the last ten years of my life, and oh, when you fall in love again, tell him to be good to you,” Mingyu rambled, pausing to smile at you through his tears.

“But please apologise to that guy because if there’s a weepy guy at your wedding, oh fuck, never mind, why would you invite me. Fuck I’m babbling. You don’t want this. I’ll be on my way,” Mingyu paused his ramble to kiss your forehead.

“Please stay safe,” Mingyu said before practically running out the door. You waited for him to leave until you couldn’t hear his footsteps in the hallway break down.

“Fuck!” You cried out, you felt so much pain engulf you, you felt as if someone had snatched your heart out of your chest, you felt as if you had a thousand cuts all over your body and that each second, someone was pouring salt into every wound.

You didn’t know pain like this. You fell to the floor sobbing, unable to withstand the pain, letting it engulf you. So, you let it. You did this, and you deserved to be hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised to the empty room. You broke him and yourself, but you weren’t his problem. You lost the right to care when you threw him out.

So, you’d do what you do best, push through, ignore the pain and push into the future because if you ran fast enough, you might forget the present and perhaps the pain wouldn’t catch up to you any longer. 6 Months Later

Your method wasn’t foolproof.

Simply running away from your problems only brought you temporary comfort.

It allowed you to plaster a fake smile and get things done. It brought you false hope when you told your mother that you had let him go.

Your method was like a ticking time bomb. You’d hold off only for so long. You knew your pain and your actions would catch up to you.

Eventually, you took steps to prolong it. You had blocked Mingyu on every possible social media site. You even put all his things in storage and scrubbed the apartment clean, and when you were done, there was no proof that he ever existed in your life.

You acted like he was a ghost because, somehow, it was easier believing that in some twisted way than picking up the phone and apologising or checking in.

It was easier this way. You put a bandaid on a wound that had cut through every part of you, foolishly hoping it’d be enough.

That stupid bandaid got you through your life in Japan. You’d find moments where you’d think of Mingyu, wondering how he’d love certain foods and sights, but you would push any thought of him away, and you were doing a good job.

Until you were going through your things and found a black journal. You were familiar with it the moment you opened the journal. You wished you could have gone back in time and undid everything because opening up the journal made you feel like you just ripped open the bandaid.

It was Mingyu’s journal.

A journal dated the day you two started therapy. You knew it was wrong to read his innermost thoughts, but maybe you’d get closure. So, you got a bottle of wine and began to read.

Most of the entries did nothing but break your heart repeatedly until you came across the last one.

It was dated the night of the date, your last date with him.

“I can’t wait to surprise her tonight. I think we’re going to be okay,” Mingyu wrote.

Your heart stopped.

A surprise, he was planning something that night.

What was it?

You had to find out.

You had planned most of your life down to the last detail, so randomly catching a plane, after calling your boss and randomly quitting, and landing back home after six months felt odd.

This was home, so why did it no longer feel like it? The way you had shut your heart to Mingyu, had this town also shut you out, decided that someone as heartless as you didn’t deserve another chance?

You had unblocked Mingyu on socials in a feeble attempt to try and find him, and you saw that he frequented a bakery often. It was a shot in the dark but your only shot. You hailed a taxi from the airport and gave him the address to the bakery.

You ran into the bakery, huffing as you lugged two suitcases.

“Can I help you, miss?” A beautiful girl asked you, and you stared at her.

“No, but you have a frequent customer, Mingyu?” You asked, causing the lady to laugh.

“Customer, honey, he’s the owner? Do you have an appointment with him, or would you like a consult? He’s got a free evening, so I can pencil you in. Just walk all the way, and when you see a white door with golden roses on it, you’ve found it,” the lady instructed, and you just moved on autopilot as you reached his door.

Your knuckles trembled as they knocked against the door, his door.

“Come in!” A cheery voice you yearned to hear for so long, a voice you missed every day and every night replied.

You pushed the door open and noticed that Mingyu was too busy sketching to look up, and he continued drawing.

“Just take a seat, make yourself comfy. Sorry, just finishing up a sketch,” Mingyu said mindlessly, and you stood still.

Taking him in, his hair was longer, he’d coloured it too, a light brown, and he looked handsome, but also he looked healthy like he was sleeping and resting and happy.

You noted how focused he was on his work. Mingyu was always handsome to you, but even more so when he was doing something he loved.

“Seriously, it’s okay. Make yourself up at home,” Mingyu started to say as he got up from his chair.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked as he finally noticed you.

“Oh my goodness,” Mingyu broke into a broad smile as he rushed to hug you, and you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. How could he?

How could he look at you with so much kindness after what you did to him?

“Oh my gosh, how are you? You look well. How’s Japan, and how’s the job?” Mingyu asked a question after making you stare at him.

“I found this,” as you moved away from his embrace, practically slapping the journal against the chest.

“Oh, I’m guessing you read it?” Mingyu asked with a smile.

“What did it mean, the surprise?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“Can you spare me some time? I don’t want to have that conversation here, but if you can wait a few minutes, we can return to mine, and I’ll explain every word you read?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

“Babe!” The same girl from the front desk walked into Mingyu’s office.

Babe?

You felt your blood run cold. It made sense for him if he moved on, but her? The woman who looked like she was everything you weren’t, maybe that’s why he wanted her.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to check what you wanted to do for dinner tonight. If you want, I can make pasta?” She kept speaking, each word twisting the knife in your chest deeper.

“Yuna, this is Y/N, a good friend,” Mingyu introduced, and you forced a smile for her.

That’s all, but what would he introduce you to her? A friend? His ex, the one who broke his heart?

“Oh, you guys were friends in school, right? Nice of you to visit, so I guess raincheck on dinner? Oh, babe, please don’t forget we must go to the dress store. I need you to pick out the suit for the wedding,” Yuna said as she gave him a peck on the cheek, shot you a smile and left the room.

Mingyu had moved on so quickly? A wedding? He waited ten years to propose to you—sort of—but with Yuna, only six months, maybe he wasn’t the problem. You were, you saw her, pretty, friendly, and she seemed to make him smile. Something you failed to do for so long.

So, it made sense that he’d see a future with her and not you.

Mingyu could hear your overthinking, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort you right now, but he’d do it the minute you two were in his house. Alone and in a safe space.

“Shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, following him, not saying a word during the entire car ride back to his apartment and the walk to his apartment.

“I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. If you want, you can use the guest room. I can grab you some clothes,” Mingyu offered, and you followed him into the guest room, not saying a word.

Mingyu poked his head into the bathroom when he noticed you hadn’t emerged in a half-hour. Worried, he entered, and his heart broke when he understood what you were doing.

“Hey, no, stop that,” Mingyu said, poking his head in at first and then entering the bathroom when he understood what was happening.

“Just wanted to see what I was missing,” you admitted, making Mingyu frown as he helped you sit on the countertop. Mingyu grabbed a towel, wet it, and gently wiped your face with it.

“She’s pretty.” You muttered, and Mingyu sighed, placing the towel on the counter.

“She’s got a nice body,” you continued to speak as you were apart. Mingyu stared at you in disbelief, and he hated how you were tearing yourself apart.

“Can you shower? Or manage on your own?” Mingyu asked; he didn’t want to leave you, but he was very aware that you were naked and crying, and he didn’t want to upset you any further.

“I guess you found the one you love, and I’m here like a moron because I thought you still loved me. I selfishly thought you still loved me,” Mingyu shook his head and snapped, and his hands found your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You gently pushed him away.

“Don’t pity me,” you muttered Mingyu glared at you.

“None of this is out of pity.” Mingyu moved his hands to your neck, gently tracing your skin until he reached your lower back and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m going to ask you again; can you manage to shower alone. Or do you need me to help you?” You sighed and pushed your body against him.

“I need you,” you answered. Mingyu nodded before moving away and stripping.

“Fuck, see, you have a nice body,” you said to Mingyu, making him glare at you as he helped you into the shower.

“So do you, and fuck, I’ll be damned if you don’t feel the same by the time I’m done with you,” Mingyu said as he turned on the shower, and you sighed in relief as the warm water poured over you.

Mingyu reached over for the shampoo and moved his hands into your hair. You moaned as he massaged your scalp, and for a second, you stopped thinking about how crap you felt. You allowed Mingyu to wash you, and you were ready to leave the shower when Mingyu gently pushed you against the wall.

Mingyu moved his lips from your forehead until he reached your lips and captured them in a sweet kiss.

One which had you swooning.

It was so soft and yet deliberate. You moaned as you felt him deepen the kiss with his tongue. Mingyu kept kissing you until the need for air became too urgent, and he gently pulled away.

Mingyu moved his lips to your neck, slowly sucking and gently nibbling the skin there. He left a trail of marks on your neck, all shades of purple and pink. Mingyu moved his hands to your breasts, massaging the soft skin, tugging and pinching your nipples, making you moan.

Mingyu pulled away from your body and got down on his knees in front of you. He dove into your cunt, licking your folds, and your hands moved their way into his wet hair.

Mingyu didn’t move a muscle, only his tongue as he glided it up and down your cunt. He moved slightly and pushed his tongue into you, making you gasp in pleasure. Mingyu groaned as he tasted your arousal, pushing his tongue in further. Mingyu moved his tongue back to your clit and flicked the now-engorged nub while pushing two fingers inside you.

You were whimpering and gasping in pleasure as Mingyu fingered you until you came. Mingyu held your thighs in place as he continued to lick you through your orgasm. He was focused on making you cum as many times are he could with his tongue. You shuddered when Mingyu continued, never stopping.

Mingyu moved his hands to grab your ass and pulled your ass cheeks apart, making you groan.

Mingyu’s lips never left your clit. You could only mewl and let out sobs of pleasure as he licked you. You were gasping for air as you reached your second orgasm. Mingyu’s mouth never moved from your clit as he licked you through your orgasm.

Mingyu moved his lips away from your cunt, and moaned when he saw your state.

“You look so fucking good like this, swollen pussy, mouth open. You look gorgeous when you cum,” Mingyu praised, and you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Turn around, face the wall,” Mingyu instructed, and you weakly turned around as you trembled.

“If anything is too much, tell me, okay?” You mumbled a yes, and Mingyu pushed his fingers into your cunt.

“Good?” You choked out a yes. The new angle with which he entered your cunt had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled as your legs started to shake, Mingyu simply hummed against your wet folds, and that’s all it took for you cum again.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, and Mingyu slowly got up, held your body close to his, and pulled you in for another kiss; you were so immersed in the kiss that you failed to register him lifting you in his arms and aligning you with his hard cock.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned as he pushed himself into you and started to pound into your cunt.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned as you bit down on his shoulder as fucked you into your fourth orgasm.

“Fuck, I won’t last long,” Mingyu choked out.

“Cum inside me,” you begged him.

Mingyu smiled at you, “gladly,” he said as he thrust into you harder, making you shake and clench around him each time. You moaned when you felt him finally still and cum inside you, his warmth coating your walls.

Mingyu slowly placed you back down, “fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing Mingyu’s forearm as he started fingering you hard.

“One more baby, one more,” Mingyu coaxed as he fingered you to another orgasm. You nodded as you felt yourself cum simply based on his command Mingyu didn’t stop until you came again. This time he finally moved his fingers away from your cunt.

You were so fucked out. All you could do was hiss slightly when Mingyu finally washed you up, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed. He towelled your hair dry, put his shirt on you, and pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket over you two.

You turned in his embrace to place your head on his chest, “cuddly,” Mingyu noted with a soft smile on his lips, and you returned a smile back to him, making him bend his head down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

You opened your mouth to speak, and Mingyu held a hand out to stop you.

“Tomorrow morning, please,” Mingyu pleaded, and you nodded.

You could do that.

Pretend for one more night. ~~ Second, Third and Hundredth Chances ~~

“Morning,” Mingyu greeted you as you entered the kitchen the following day. He stood by the kitchen island, poured himself a cup of coffee and another one, and pushed it across the island, nudging you to sit and face him after six months.

Six months. That’s how long you went silent on him, blocked him out, and suddenly showed up at his door because of a journal.

All his life, Mingyu knew you as a planner. You always had a backup plan, so for you to show up unannounced seemed so odd. Maybe you were passing by. Or you just wanted the last word, but after six months.

Seeing you again, Mingyu felt pain, anger, and hurt, but more than anything, he still felt love. No matter how badly it ended, you were so much more than his ex-girlfriend. You were the woman he once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It didn’t matter what would transpire; you would always be unique to him, and he could only hope he held a similar position in your heart.

“So,” Mingyu started to say as you sipped the coffee.

“I made you cheat. I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumbled, making Mingyu laugh.

“Right, I didn’t cheat when I was with you, and that’s not something I’m going just to start doing because I’m with someone who isn’t you,” Mingyu said, and you stared at him, confused.

“But Yuna?” You asked.

“When you threw me out, I couldn’t find a place that late at night, so I ended up at a bar and cried my eyes out to Yuna. She ran the bar that night and felt sorry for me, so she took me home,” Mingyu explained, pausing to gauge your reaction.

Mingyu felt slightly cruel for testing you like this, but with the hell, you put him through for six months, this was nothing, and he wanted to see if you still loved him or just got upset because you thought you had some right to him.

“Yuna and her fiancé, they both, I guess, let me crash and nursed me back that night and just let me mope in their house for a solid month,” Mingyu explained, making you exhale.

“She calls everyone babe and kisses everyone’s cheeks but only kisses her fiancé’s lips,” Mingyu elaborated, making you sigh in relief.

“I think it was month two of moping over you, and I was, you know, useless and jobless,” Mingyu continued to speak, hurting you, knowing that you used the exact words when you broke his heart.

“I was baking a lot, and Yuna’s husband is a famous pastry chef, and he saw me swiping through my Pinterest board and asked if I wanted to do something with my life or just cry over you,” Mingyu chuckled, recalling the memory.

“So, for four months, I poured all my efforts into my craft, and I picked up everything quickly, and I guess I’ve been lucky, and the bakery is doing well and honestly. I thought I was finally moving on, but then, you showed up at the place I created to get away from the hurt you caused me,” Mingyu finished, his tone now serious and stern.

“So why are you here, after all these months, and don’t tell me it’s because of a fucking journal. You wouldn’t randomly get on a flight and show up without a plan, so tell me, did you come here to reopen all the wounds I tried so hard to heal?” Mingyu asked, and you fumbled.

“Do you know what you did to me? That night, you not only assumed that I was an unsupportive boyfriend, but you equated my ability to love you down to the fact that I was unemployed and directionless, and that is fucked up. Like beyond fucked up. So when you threw me out, I honestly believed I was worth nothing. I didn’t think I was enough. While I still want the best for you, you broke me when I needed you most, and seeing you here now, when I’m just getting my shit together, it fucks with me because a part of me wants to kick you out the way you did to me, but a part of me wants to kiss you and try again so tell me Y/N which part should I listen to?” Mingyu fumed, making you cry.

“Why did you do it? Because what we kept breaking the ‘no sex rule’ or did something else happen? After that date, you said you fell in love with me again, and three days later, you did that. Was it because you accepted the job offer and you felt guilty? I know I’m not perfect, but I broke myself trying to be the man you deserved, and it still wasn’t enough, so I think I am at least owed something, some explanation,” Mingyu implored, his voice softer, and you couldn’t stop the tears from escaping.

“Fucking speak, will you? You had no problem tearing me apart, so why are you quiet now?” Mingyu asked, frustrated.

“Because you were bending over backwards, you did so much, and I did nothing. Mingyu, I got mad at you because another girl gave you the attention I didn’t. You were focused on fixing us, and I was focused on just fixing you, and yes, you’re right. The fact that I accepted the job without a second thought for you made me realise what a selfish person I was. I was ashamed, and then you took me out on that date,” you paused to take a breath before continuing.

“I felt like a failure. I failed you because I was so willing to fix us. Still, I didn’t want to go through the pain because I was scared that at the end of it all, you’d realise that you were better off, and I couldn’t deal with that, so I thought it’d be easier if I made you hate me,” you blubbered out, and Mingyu looked at you in disbelief.

“I ran away because it was easier. I took the easy way out because the tables had turned. You were succeeding in fixing us, doing the work, and all I could do was watch you put in so much, never expecting anything in return. I couldn’t do that to you, so I just let you go in the worst way possible,” you explained through your tears.

“I know what you wanted to do the night of the date. I found a velvet box, and I just wanted to confirm that when I flew down here and walked in, it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold and distant, and I didn’t fit here anymore. I saw you happy, glowing, and you had started fresh, and me? I’ve been on autopilot, working, coming home and trying so fucking hard not to think about you, and that journal was an excuse because I couldn’t stay away anymore,” you sputtered out.

“I knew you wanted to propose, and I ran because while it was everything I ever wanted, I wasn’t the woman you deserved, and I don’t know what I’m doing here because I’m certainly not the woman you deserve now. So, thank you for last night, and I’m sorry that I rehashed old wounds, and it was because I was selfish. I was selfish that night, and I’m still the same,” you cried out.

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated as he walked over to you, holding your face.

“Scared, not selfish,” Mingyu said with a sad smile.

“How do you not hate me; how can you still be so kind and loving after everything I did to you?” You asked as Mingyu wiped your tears away.

“Because I still love you, hell you fucked with me, but when I saw you yesterday, it felt like a missing part of me was found, and while it hurt, because I got used to that missing piece, I felt alive, seeing you, and I know that the last time I gave up because I thought that’s what you wanted, but after last night. I know it’s not; it can’t be. So, tell me, did you come back to ask me about a journal entry or because you love me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“I left everything. I was looking for something to bring me back to you because, after I left, I didn’t think I had a right to face you again, so the journal was my excuse,” you answered, and Mingyu stared at you.

“Everything?” Mingyu asked.

“I quit and packed my shit and came here and handed over the keys to the apartment in Japan to my landlord, and I guess I came here, hoping to come home and selfishly hoping to come back home to you,” you answered, biting your lip unable to look at Mingyu.

“But your promotion?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“It took me six months to realise that no promotion, no success in the world meant anything to me if you weren’t by my side, and it felt hollow. Every applause and pay cheque felt worthless because, in a room full of praises, I only ever wanted to hear your voice and come home. I always hoped that you’d be there, and I’d run into your arms and kiss you, and we would both sit and tell each other about our days, and then at night kiss each other and make love to each other, but all I got was an empty house,” you rambled making Mingyu smile tearily at you.

“Can I ask you for a favour?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, looking at him.

“This time, I don’t care how difficult it is, how serious it is, how big or small the issue is, you come to me, no matter if it’s a small issue or a big issue, you’re coming to me, you don’t kick me out, and you don’t fight with me, but you fight for us,” Mingyu explained making your eyes widen.

“After all I did to you. You’ll take me back?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“I was always going to come back to fight for you. I just needed time to be strong enough to do so, but yes, because if there’s anything these six months taught me, it is that I’d rather spend six months going through this pain a hundred times over, provided that each time the outcome was the same, you back in my life,” Mingyu explained making you cry even more.

“How can you love me so much?” You asked, making Mingyu laugh.

“You stole my heart in a science class when you threw a paper at my head for being too loud in class, I was yours then, and I’m yours now, so tell me, my love, will you be mine again?” Mingyu asked, and you cried, nodding.

“If you can forgive me?” You cried out, and Mingyu smiled sweetly at you.

“I forgave you long ago. I was hurt, but my love for you is paramount, and it’s easier to love you than to be mad at you,” Mingyu explained, hugging you. “The perk of knowing you for so many years is that I know, despite your harsh words, you get defensive and deflective and often, what you do instead of saying the truth is act and lash out.”

“I don’t deserve a love as understanding as the one you have for me,” you admitted, and Mingyu shrugged.

“We didn’t have the most perfect few years, but maybe that’s what we needed. Maybe Dr Kwan’s separation therapy worked because six months of radio silence was more painful than when we were fighting. After all, at least I could see you hug you, and talk to you, but not hear a word from you, not knowing anything that was nothing short of torture. I don’t want to go through that again,” Mingyu explained.

“It took me losing you to realise how much I love you,” you answered, pausing to wipe your tears, “and if you let me, Mingyu, I’ll never let you go again. I’ll love you the way I always should have, and I’ll never let you go because losing you was like I lost my ability to breathe, but here in your arms. I feel safe, loved, and at home, and I don’t want to lose my home again, and I-” Mingyu’s lips cut off your speech on yours.

“Sorry, but I had to,” Mingyu said sheepishly, making you smile.

“This will sound weird, but Y/N, will you go on a date with me?” Mingyu asked, making you smile as you burst into a wide smile and hugged him tightly.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

“Good, Tuesday night? I’ll pick you up. It’s a surprise,” Mingyu asked, and you nodded furiously.

All those times you thought it’d work, you always were still unsure, but today, right now, you knew that you’d love him because loving him allowed you to see the world in colour and losing him took away all the colour and joy in the world and this time you didn’t want to fix it for the sake of it.

You wanted to fix it because you loved him.

The Finale: What I Should Have Said

One Year Later

“Oh, for the love of God, please do not break,” Mingyu muttered as he set up the decorations for your anniversary date on the balcony. At this moment, he was yelling at a bouquet to stand still.

“Mingyu? What is so urgent? I’m home?” You called out, and Mingyu pouted, glaring at the faultless flower bouquet. You were back and early,

“In here!” Mingyu yelled out.

You walked into the house, noticing all the lights had been dimmed. There were flower petals everywhere. You smiled. You knew Mingyu was going to do something for the anniversary. You just weren’t entirely sure what.

“Hi,” Mingyu looked up to see you, smiling at the decorations. He walked over to you and kissed you.

“Happy Anniversary.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Happy Anniversary to you, too,” you said. You smiled as he held your hand and pulled you to the sofa.

“Ooh, cake!” You exclaimed, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you.

“I’m a three-course meal, and you are salivating over a cake?” Mingyu complained, but you laughed.

“Oh, get over it,” You kept laughing, and Mingyu sliced a piece out for you. He was oddly precise and took a long time to slice the cake.

“Dude, just give me the cake,” you muttered, and Mingyu scowled.

“Did you just dude me?” Mingyu asked dramatically. You smiled at him as you took the cake from him and immediately scooped a piece into your mouth. You felt something sharp in your mouth; you tasted blood and metal and glared at Mingyu.

“What did you do? Accidentally leave a fork in the cake?” You glared, and Mingyu gasped in an attempt to bite back a laugh.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and find out?” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him strangely. However, it was your turn to gasp as you ran to the bathroom and pulled a ring from your mouth.

You washed the ring and returned to the balcony where Mingyu was frantically pacing.

“Mingyu?” You asked, holding out the now-washed ring in your hand. Mingyu took it from you and knelt down.

“I waited too long last time, I waited for a sign, the right time, all that bullshit, and I’m not saying that if I had done it earlier, our problems would have never occurred, but I know waiting sure as hell didn’t help. I know I wanted to marry you when I was 19, and now, more than ten years later, I still want that, except this time, I don’t want to wait to find the right time, place or anything. I don’t need any of that. I just know that I need the right person, and I have that with you, my love,” Mingyu declared, making you tear up.

“The last year has been a lot for us. We found each other again and worked together to fix ourselves, and you know what? I’d do it all over again if it meant fixing us, and if it meant that a year later, I’d be here proposing to you, so what do you say, Y/N? Will you be mine forever, and will you love me forever the way I know I will love you?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, unable to say much but give him a muffled yes.

Mingyu slipped the ring onto your finger, pulled you into his arms, and hugged you tightly.

“When I said we’d be okay, this is what I meant, I knew it’d hurt, and it’d take fucking a lot of time and patience, but I’d do it all over again a thousand times even if this is the ending, I get each time we’re done,” Mingyu spoke, and you looked up at him smiling.

“Me too. I’d lose you a thousand times over if it meant being back in your arms at the end,” you replied, making Mingyu smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu said, and you smiled at him, “I love you too, so much you loved me despite all my flaws and imperfections”, you replied.

“I saw those ‘flaws’ and ‘imperfections,’ and I fell in love with every part of you. We’re both imperfect, but the way we love each other, now that’s fucking perfect!” Mingyu replied, holding you tighter.

You knew this was your home; with him in his arms, that’s where it was no longer cold; it was warm, safe, and it was home.

He was home.

#seventeen fic #mingyu smut #mingyu #svt fic #svthub #mingyu fic #kvanity #exile: k.m.g #kim mingyu

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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months

Note

For the trope mashup thing whatever: arranged marriage and neighbors 👀 - CX

again not one i would've picked but thank you for prompting it !! this also uh, got longer than i thought.

(from the prompts mash up - still taking submissions)

--------

“What do you mean your visa’s running out?” Lando asks.

“I’m Australian. Not a magician. Commonwealth only gets you so far.”

“I thought you were here on a scholarship.”

“Well. Yeah. But scholarships stop. Once you graduate.”

Lando toes the doorway rug. It feels weird to be talking about this in the middle of the hallway, though the only other person who would be listening might be Mrs. Kapoor, and half the time it’s only because she sticks her head out to ask if Lando or Oscar would take one of her mystery vegan curries. Lando is neither a huge fan of vegan food nor curry, and he trusts Oscar’s word for it that it’s good because they eat it while playing Gran Turismo at Lando’s place. But Lando always accepts the curries nonetheless, because his parents raised him to be polite, and he wasn’t raised in a barn. (Even if he technically grew up in converted farmhouse in the countryside, but that was besides the point.) Either way, this is slipping away from him much quicker than he’d anticipated. Late night hangouts, dropping mail and post-it notes, text messages about the community garden. The most inane smalltalk about things big and small from the origins of moths to whether aliens were out there or just chose to ignore the +44 area code. Oscar always laughing in the right places when Lando regales him about tales of his terrible online dating stories, Oscar always picking the pickles out of the roast beef bagels before he passes one to Lando. The corner of Lando’s sofa that Lando has started to think of as Oscar’s because he’s there so often, reading one of his books or trying to speedread a JSTOR article about the lifecycle of urban pathogens while Lando worked on artwork for his upcoming store launch.

Lando’s synapses are firing too fast. His brain did that most days, and that was what made him exceedingly good at his job, and today in particular - it doesn’t feel like there’s any logical way out.

Lando remembers that movie they watched once though. As a joke. The one they both pretended not to enjoy, with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds in Alaska. The one they watched when Oscar sat next to Lando on the sofa, and they both pretended the entire night that their knees weren’t touching.

His therapist said he had a tendency to get ahead of himself when under stress. But it’s a joke, it’s not serious, there’s no way—

“We could just like, get married.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. That came out way more calm and cooler than he thought it actually would. And to his credit, Oscar doesn’t drop his mug of tea. Lando knows that’s his favourite one, because Lando got it for him, and it says Science is my superpower. Oscar does, however, slightly shift his grip on the mug.

“I feel like it’d be complicated to explain to my mum why I randomly married my upstairs neighbour?”

“But it’s not a no.”

Oscar tilts his head. There’s a glimmer of something focused, maybe even hungry in his eyes. Oscar gets like that when his mind turns, when he’s working on an especially difficult thesis, when the pieces are forming and he can lock into the crucial details.

Lando is a little alarmed at how much he already recognises it, and how much more often he’d like to draw that reaction out.

“If the facts don’t fit the theory, then reexamine the facts. Right?” Oscar says.

And Lando is there, in the doorway. Conscious that Mrs Kapoor might’ve heard everything, but all the more conscious that there’s a hammering in his heart that he can’t tell is nervousness, or anticipation.

What’s the stress limit for a joke you’re probably already pushing too far? Lando thinks.

He isn’t sure.

But maybe it’s a thesis worth testing out.

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

(and ok maybe i cheated a little on arranged marriage but i think this is the closest i could get with the contemporary context. thank you @cx-boxbox for the prompt <3)

#landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri #ln4 #op81 #mctwinks #twinklaren #f1 rpf #wiz.askbox #wiz.promptfills #<- don't even know if i use this tag lmao but only one way to find out #green card marriages man what a tried and tested excellent trope #also one i've never written before!! so thanks or letting me dabble in the drabble #prompt game #wiz.HCs #why do picture blocks conspire against me lately #they just get so aggressive when i try to put 3 in a row on this device #anyway #yapping

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Bad Reputation 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“I can’t tell you how much I need this,” Maria sighs as you put down the cocktail before her.

“Yeah, me too,” you sit back and twirl the straw in your drink.

“You sure about this place?” She looks around as she lifts the glass filled to the brim with a pink and purple ombre, topped with a wedge of bright lime. “Seems a bit young for us.”

“Uh, well, Google Maps isn’t exactly intuitive, I guess. You said drinks and I didn’t think you’d wanna go down to some dive.”

“Mm, yeah, I might run into my husband,” she scoffs, setting down her drink and rubbing her temples, “I can’t explain to you how intense it’s been. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“Sounds like he wants to be your father, not your husband,” you roll your eyes.

“No, no ‘I told you so’s’,” she crosses her arms, “because I know. You were right. He’s controlling. I just… I didn’t think he’d get this bad.”

You nod. You don’t want to be right. You care for your friend. You want her to be okay.

“Where does he think you are right now?”

“With the kids,” she says guiltily, “I told him I was taking them to my parents’ place. Which I did, he just thinks I’m there too.”

“Jeez,” you rub your chin, “so, what do you think? Talking to a therapist or a lawyer?”

She looks at you, a dire spark in her eyes, “I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. Either one is going to be like pulling teeth.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine.”

“God, I wish I was you,” she lifts her glass again, “single, childfree, alive.”

“Oh, Mar, don’t say that. You just need to get through this. And you can. The both of you just need to figure it out. You need to adjust. You never did, really. He kept on doing the same things, meanwhile you gave up everything to be with the kids. You deserve to get some of you back.”

“Please,” she wiggles her nose, “you know I get weepy when I drink.”

“And look at me getting sentimental,” you chuckle, “alright, that’s it.” You pick up your cocktail and chug it, trickling a little down the corner of your mouth. You wipe away the excess and slam the glass down, “you’re going to finish that. Then we’re going to get another and we’re going to dance.”

“Dance? College ended a long time ago–”

“We’re still wild, Mar, you’ll see. Down it and lets do a double to get in the mood. I’m not letting you go until your leaning.”

She huffs and shakes her head, hovering her drink before her lips, “you really are a bad influence.”

“Oh, you can be sure to tell Frank he was right about me,” you wink.

🎶

You come out onto the pavement as the buzzing of the music sticks in your ears. You made it to last call but Maria is barely holding on as she clings to your shoulder. You giggle and search for a cab among the rabble of clubbers dispersing in pairs and larger groups.

You see the Golden Arches just behind the row of buildings across the street, “how about some Mickey D’s, huh? Suck up some of that vodka?”

“No, I gotta get home,” she babbles into a belch.

“You know you want a McChicken? Oh, how about nuggets? You know the sweet and sour sauce is your fave.”

“Stop!” She nearly shouts in your ear.

“I’m not going home till I have a juicy Big Mac in these paws,” you drag her down the sidewalk.

“Ugh, I can’t believe it’s after two,” she manages to bobble beside you, swaying slightly as she keeps a hold of your arm, “I’m a mother! My kids–”

“Are well taken care of,” you assure her, “this is girls’ night and it’s not over yet.”

You turn the corner, a few others ahead of you seem to have the same destination in sight. In the back of your mind, you know you’ll regret it in the morning but right now, your mouth is watering for over processed meat and cheese. Maria hiccups and hums.

“I’m gonna feel like shit,” she voices your inner monologue.

“We can feel like shit together,” you laugh, “just like college–”

Suddenly she slips away from you. At first you think she tripped but then you see the shadow dragging her back down the pavement. You know that gait, that lumbering rhythm, shoulders squared, nostrils puffing like a bull. Really? That jackass.

“Frank,” you shuffle to catch Maria’s other arm as she stumbles senselessly behind him, whimpering, “let her go.”

“Let my wife go,” he marches but you cling to Maria, drawing him back, “stay out of my marriage.”

“This isn’t about you, we’re having fun–”

“You need to grow up,” he keeps one hand on Maria as he rears on you, wagging his thick finger in your face, “mind your fucking business and stay away from my goddamn wife.”

“She’s an adult. She can do what she wants–”

“I know your bullshit. You get her all worked up then talk her into your dumb shit. Because you can’t hold onto a man of your own–”

“Pfft, whatever, I don’t need some asshole like you, Frank Castle–”

You stagger back as his fist cracks across your cheek. You taste blood as you fall backwards onto your ass, crying out at the pain that zips through your hip, ankle thrumming as you manage to unhook your heel from a crack in the sidewalk. You whine and cradle your head.

“Oh my god, are you o–” Maria reaches for you, hanging from Frank’s grasp.

“Come on. Home,” he snarls and jerks her away, “where you belong.”

“Hey,” you get to your knees, head swirling as you try to plant a foot.

“You follow me and I’ll leave you in the gutter,” he stops and points at you again, “fucking trash.”

You spit out blood into your hand, frozen in fear and dizziness. You can barely believe he hit you. He really hit you. You just hope he doesn’t do worse to Maria.

#frank castle #dark frank castle #dark!frank castle #frank castle x reader #bad reputation #drabble #series #au #the club #the punisher #marvel #mcu

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angelst4re · 10 months

Note

hi sweetie! i have been dying for a teacher x student type of story trope with jamie ;) with some smut if your comfortable <3

i dont think i've ever written for teacher!jamie before so i could not just let this request sit in my inbox for another 4 months... i also combined it with a jealous jamie smut request but i'm thinking of making a part 2 to this which has more jealous jamie... which i may even be writing right now!!! <3

Sugar- Teacher!Jamie x Reader

♡ warnings: NSFW!!! contains smut!!! please don't read if you're not comfortable love! NEITHER AGES ARE SPECIFIED BUT READER IS 18+ <3 it’s only ever mentioned that theres a 15 year age gap

♡ notes: i attempted to keep this as gender neutral as possible but reader is afab! also i kinda rushed this because i just needed to post something!! but there's going to be a part 2 I PROMISE!!!

“...Oh, and don’t forget, y/l/n, we have a one to one scheduled for 3:30 to discuss your exam results. I’ll be in my office.” Mr Bower, who insisted you call him Jamie, reminded you with a smile as you left the classroom.

“I haven’t forgotten, sir.” You say as you turn back around to smile at him, and give him a little wave before you leave the room.

You had two hours to spare before your meeting with the music teacher, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend the majority of the time in the bathroom making sure you looked perfect. You had been waiting for a moment like this, a moment alone with the teacher that has plagued your mind since the beginning of the school year. You and your friends, and most likely the entire class, had been captivated by not only his looks but his personality. Having learnt that he had recently become single after a three year long relationship, you felt like you stood a chance, but then you were quickly reminded of the 15 year age gap.

However, his behaviour around you didn’t go unnoticed. You’d catch him eyeing you up when you would come in wearing a new outfit that evidently boosted your confidence, or you would catch him looking over at you whilst you were in the middle of a written exam, and he would quickly divert his eyes when they met yours.

Despite the clear indication he may be into you the way you’re into him, you both had a very positive, friendly relationship. He would give you the best tips and advice, and be more than willing to help you progress in the ways you wished to, as he would with anybody in the class, but there was one particular encounter that you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You and your boyfriend, Andy, had a fight the night before and you had missed your class in the morning. Jamie got in contact with you to ask about the absence, and you felt comfortable enough to explain the situation to him. He told you that even if you didn’t attend your classes that day, to at least come in to talk about how you’re feeling. He assured you that although he didn’t qualify as a therapist, it would be good to talk to someone. And so you did.

You came in with unbrushed hair, wearing yesterday's clothes and threw yourself onto the chair in his office as you broke down in tears. You don’t remember much of that day, besides the pet names he would casually drop into his sentences.

Sweetheart, love, darling.

He definitely knew how to charm.

You also had a memory of staining his white shirt with tears as he let you cry into his chest, telling him how your boyfriend was a dick. How he was caught in bed with a random girl (to which there was proof) but he tried to convince you it never happened.

You remember Jamie telling you something along the lines of, “every failed relationship should be thought of as a blessing. It might be upsetting to see it come to an end, but it means you’re still yet to find the one out there who’s for you, and it's giving the chance to find them. The one that will treat you right, even on their bad days. You’ll never know where this person may be, but they’re definitely out there.”

It was apparent through a quick google search that Jamie was definitely experienced when it came to relationships, so you knew to trust him on this one.

You kept checking the time on your phone, waiting and waiting and waiting for it to hit 3:25 so you could begin walking towards Jamie’s office, but the time seemed to pass so slow.

It was only 3pm.

You sighed, placing your phone back down on the table you were sat at in the library. All your friends had gone home as you finish early on a Wednesday, yet you agreed to meet Jamie today as it was the only afternoon he had free this week.

Only seconds after placing your phone down on the table, the screen lights up as it begins to ring, the noise causing everyone to turn around, some even sending dirty looks your way as you pick up your bag and leave, answering the phone as you begin to walk towards the building where Jamie’s office was.

“What do you want, Andy?” You sighed, holding the phone up to your ear.

“I miss you,” he said, a feeble attempt to guilt trip you, “I was just looking at some old pictures and-”

“It was your idea for us to take a break in the first place. I’m not just going to drop everything and come running back to you because you ‘miss me’.”

“I’m sorry, okay. I realised what I did was wrong and…”

You stopped listening to what Andy was saying as Jamie passed you in the hallway, sensing your distressed state he stopped quickly to mouth an ‘is everything okay?’, to which you nodded your head.

“I don’t care, okay. Whatever you have to say I’m sure I’ve heard it all before. When I’m ready to talk to you I will, until then just please give me some space.” You say before ending the call, and you jump as you realise Jamie was waiting by your side.

You were blocking the door to his office.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologise, stepping to the side.

“Don’t apologise!” Jamie gasped, as if you had offended him, before opening the door for you, “we can start early if that’s okay with you, I have nothing else planned this afternoon.”

Nodding your head, you entered his office.

“So he’s still giving you grief- Andy?”

“How did you guess?” You scoff as you sit down on the chair opposite his desk.

“I don’t know how a someone like you can stay with someone like him-”

“We’re on a break, actually.” You interrupted. “Although he seems to care about me more now than he did in the 8 months we were together.”

“You need to leave him for good, sweetheart.” He told you, as he rummaged through the cabinet beside his desk, pulling out your exam papers and setting them in front of you. “So, let’s begin!”

Only twenty minutes into the session, your phone began to ring again, and you apologised to Jamie, getting ready to leave the room to take the call before realising it was Andy again. Jamie didn't look best impressed as you ran a hand through your hair stressfully.

“Give me your phone.” Jamie sighed.

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll just switch it off-”

“Y/n. Phone.”

The sternness in his voice sent chills through your body, yet a warmth grew in your lower stomach.

By the time you handed your phone over to him, Andy had stopped calling. Hopefully, he had given up, but you knew he would keep going until he got his way, like always.

“You know, sweetheart, the look on your face when you saw it was him calling you told me everything.” Jamie said, leaning back in his chair.

“What do you mean?” You scoffed.

“You know what I mean, darling. Please stop trying to convince yourself he’s a good guy, not when he treats you like shit and expects you to drop everything for him. You deserve better.”

“And how do you know that? Sure, me and Andy might have our moments, but when he can be nice… he’s somebody completely different. Deep down, he’s a really good guy, Jamie.” You explain, feeling tears of frustration begin to gloss your eyes.

“I’m not buying it, love.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

And that was all it took to push you over the edge, shoving your phone into your bag as you pushed your exam papers towards him and stood up.

“That’s it, I’m not taking this anymore.” You frown, turning around to leave.

“There we go, that’s what you should say next time Andy’s on the phone-”

“Oh, Jamie, won’t you just shut up!” You shout, throwing your arms in the air. “What is your fucking problem today?”

“Well, technically your ‘boyfriend’ isn’t my problem, so…”

“Why do you care so much?” You finally say after a moment's silence, your hands placed on the back of the chair you were previously sitting on.

“You’re my student. It’s my job to care.” He answers, simply.

“But there’s more to it than that. Isn’t there?” You swallow, bracing yourself for his reply, “c’mon Jamie, I’m not stupid.”

“What are you trying to imply, darling?” He chuckles, standing up from his chair and making his way towards you, “are you talking about the way I catch you staring at me in class when everyone else is working, or how about when I hear you gossiping with your friends about my love life, or about how you could tell I had used a different aftershave one day…”

The smirk on his face was devilish, but you had no time to process that with your recent revelation.

“You’re jealous.” You stated, turning to look up at him. “You’re jealous of Andy.”

“Darling, I have no need to be jealous of him. Not when I know you’re leaving him.”

“You don’t know whether I’m-”

You never got to finish that sentence as you were met with his lips on yours. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear which had fallen in your moment of frustration. As he pulled back from the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours before whispering,

“What if I prove you- show to you why you should leave him, hm?” He asked, although it wasn’t much of a question as he could tell by the way you were looking at him what the answer was going to be. “I need words, baby.”

“Yes.” You managed to say, after catching your breath.

A smile spread across Jamie’s lips briefly before you pulled him back in, missing the feeling of his soft lips against yours. With one hand on your waist, holding you against him, the other was placed on your cheek again, whilst your arms wrapped around his neck. You had dreamt and fantasised about this moment for months, but you never expected it to ever happen. It was always more of a scenario to help you fall asleep rather than something that would actually come true.

“Does he fuck you good, hm? The way you want?” He asks, breathlessly, as he lifts you up onto his desk, shoving everything out of the way.

You shake your head, using the slight space between you to reach for his belt, but he seemed to have other plans.

“Has he ever gone down on you?” He asked bluntly, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, easing them down your legs along with your underwear.

You once again shake your head, you have only received head once, and that was during a drunk fling at your friends birthday party- and even then you didn’t get to finish.

Jamie simply chuckled, as if to say he wasn’t surprised.

“Poor thing,” he frowns, lowering himself to his knees in front of you as he holds your legs open for him, placing kisses on your inner thighs, trailing down to your knees before going back up again, stopping where you needed him the most. “You ever cum when he fucks you?”

And as if on command, you shook your head again.

“Only when I’m alone.” You confess.

“Oh yeah, and who do you think about whilst you touch yourself?” He teases, his thumb gently stroking your clit as you fight the urge to close your legs. He looks up at you, stopping all movement as he waits on your answer.

“You, I think about you, Jamie.” You whine.

“Oh, honey, I know.” He says before you feel his lips on your skin, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers move a little lower, finding your opening and teasing circles around it before gently pushing one in.

His fingers were a favourite in your fantasies, thinking about what they could do, and he certainly did not disappoint.

A second finger followed the first and they began curling inside you, searching for a spot Jamie was sure your ex would never have been able to find, and when you let out a choked moan he smirked against you, knowing he’d found it.

Hif fingers rubbed against this spot inside you as his tongue licked, sucked and nibbled on the sensitive nub, and you were frighteningly close to the edge. You had never reached your high so quickly before, but as his hot breath fanned over your clit you tumbled off the edge, your orgasm washing over you. Your release began to drip down his hand as he continued at the pace he started, and your legs shook as you panted, your fingers pulling at his hair.

“Jesus,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Just me, darling.” He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before coming back up to place a kiss on your forehead.

You couldn’t believe the timing as there was a knock at the door to Jamie’s office. The two of you both froze for a moment, before Jamie handed you your clothes and rushed to the door.

“Mr Bower, I know you usually go home early today but Margaret told me you were here so I was just wondering if I could-”

“I’m in a meeting right now, Sasha, can you wait just two minutes?” He put on his best grin as he his behind the slightly open door to disguise his hard on.

“Oh, of course! Sorry to interrupt!” The girl apologised before Jamie shut the door.

“Sorry, sweetheart, we have to cut it short today. But you’re sure to be back in here later this week, or should I say let's reschedule?” He tried to hide his smirk when your legs wobbled as you got off his desk.

“I’m available all week, unless I decide to see Andy-”

“Honey, if I have to hear about him once more-”

“You’ll get all heated and fuck me senseless over your desk?” You grinned, feeling slightly giddy after the mind blowing orgasm he had given you, “why on earth would I want that?”

#jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower x reader #jamie bower smut #jcb

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fuwushiguro · 2 years

Text

They Tell Me That It's Good For Me

Zeke Yeager x f!reader Genre: Smut Notes: It’s hip to be square… Warnings: 18+, dubcon, cheating, violence, murder, mental health issues, vaginal sex. Lmk if I missed any. Words: 4k

Zeke resented his brother, Eren. The brunette being ten years his junior made him wonder who he thinks he is to be telling him what to do. He’s a doctor, and yet Eren seems to think it’s a good idea that he go to therapy? Family therapy, at that. It’s just the two of them sitting in the office on account of their parents being dead. The therapist immediately senses hostility in Zeke. A reluctance to be a part of this ridiculous practice. Eren disagrees, though. His temper around their penthouse recently has been less than pleasurable.

“What does a regular day in the life of Zeke Yeager look like?” the therapist asks. Zeke’s eyes roll so violently, they flutter manically. He adjusts his seating position, pulling up his trousers slightly as he crosses one leg over the other and sinks back into the armchair. He’s a picture of perfect coolness as he rakes his fingers through his hair and thinks about his answer.

A day in the life of Zeke Yeager.

He lives in one of the most expensive properties in the city. The name Zeke Yeager is one of renown and respect. An excellent doctor who studied under his father, Grisha, a title and career he achieved and solidified all before turning twenty-nine. Self-care is very important to Zeke. He likes women, you see, and being in his line of work can be incredibly stressful and taxing on your appearance. He knows every trick and technique to prolong his youth and prevent wrinkles for as long as possible. His morning regime can be gruesome, as if the poor man isn’t tired enough. But it’s all worth it to look how he does.

Not many people see his body under his work uniform, but it’s often a surprise to many when they realise how perfectly sculpted and chiselled he is. Taking care of himself can’t just stop at using specific creams and scrubs on his soft skin to prolong his youth. A balanced diet and exercise play a crucial role in it all, too. The exercise is probably the most irritating part of his morning routine to Eren. For some reason his elder brother insists on playing porno tapes on the TV at full volume while he works out. The sounds of women’s moans incentivise him, apparently. It doesn’t stop it from being irritating, though.

Zeke Yeager is successful in every way that an individual can be. He’s wealthy, he has a good job, good looks that attract enough women to placate his salacious desires. And even a brother who, whilst they annoy each other to the brink of self-detonation, they care for each other.

But it’s not enough for Zeke Yeager. He’s a shell of a man. No matter how much money he has, there’s always someone with more money. Despite him being magnificent at his job, there will always be someone somewhat superior to him. Regardless of which woman he takes to bed, there’s always a man with a sexier woman and a hotter cunt than what he’s going to devour and enjoy.

Zeke Yeager exists, but only barely.

“This was a stupid idea, Eren. I don’t need a shrink, I myself am a doctor, you know.” he talks to his brother in the chair beside his own. Zeke doesn’t get a response, but he notices the therapist begin to scribble down notes in their little book.

“I’d rather you not talk to Eren, Zeke. Focus on me. I’d like you to tell me why you’re here. What has been going on in the last few months?” the therapist speaks. Zeke runs his tongue along his top row of teeth as he contemplates the question. He’d have to ask Eren why they’re here, but now it turns out they aren’t even allowed to speak with each other.

“My life isn’t as interesting as you might think. I work. I go for the occasional drink with colleagues or my brother. I go home and enjoy video tapes and then return them when I’m finished with them.” he explains, prompting the therapist to write down more notes.

“Video tapes. I must say, from what I’ve seen and heard you watch quite a substantial amount of pornography films. Do you think you have a porn addiction?”

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s what I said.”

The therapist takes her time writing his response. It’s quite difficult to make Zeke feel uneasy, but the radio silence for five minutes straight filled with only the sound of a ballpoint scratching on paper fills him with unease. He feels like he’s on trial. Part of him wants to clear his throat, but he doesn’t wish to give the therapist the satisfaction of thinking she’s rattled him. Or worse, she’s won.

“I’d like to know about your sexual history. At what age did you lose your virginity and how frequently do you engage in sexual intercourse?” she asks him. This makes Zeke scoff. It’s not something he cares to divulge with a stranger. He sees Eren scowling at him and shakes his head unimpressed.

“I was seventeen. And I couldn’t say how often, truthfully. I like women, I’d say I have sex more than most.”

“Do you ever pay for it?”

“Is that relevant? I don’t see how that matters.” Zeke answers her question defensively, earning another series of notes appearing on the paper in front of her. “Sometimes I do, yes.” he adds, and she writes it down.

“Outside of sex, what else do you do for fun?”

“I can’t think, right now. I’ve told you a few things, I think we should move on.” he suggests. She smiles, crossing one leg over the other and nodding in agreement. He isn’t sure about therapy; he never has been. The idea of someone getting inside of his mind and trying to unearth secrets and fantasies that he may not even know about himself is terrifying.

“Do you get along with Eren’s fiancé?” she asks. Now Zeke does clear his throat. He unfolds his legs and leans forward in his seat pressing his fingertips against one another as he thinks of how he should answer.

“I don’t think we should discuss this.”

“You have a fiancé, don’t you?” she pushes. Zeke grimaces and nods. This must be why Eren brought him here. He looks over his shoulder in Eren’s direction, and he can barely look at him. He’s been a terrible older brother. So selfish and insufferable. But Zeke has never claimed to be selfless. What Zeke wants, Zeke gets.

“I stole Eren’s fiancé, yes, if we must talk about it then sure. It wasn’t a particularly nice thing to do, but I—” she stops him from saying another word by raising her hand as she writes again. He waits patiently for her to finish so that she can ask another question or wait for him to continue.

“Do you recognise this woman?” she asks as she places a polaroid on the coffee table in front of them. Zeke leans forwards to pick the image up and pushes his glasses further up his nose so he can get a proper look. He shakes his head, placing it back down and pushing it towards her.

“What about this woman? Or this woman? Maybe this one?” she fires off as she places another three images down on the table. He looks at them all intently, once again shaking his head as he pushes them back at her.

“I don’t recognise any of them. What about you, Eren?” he asks his brother, he’s still scowling at them. He thought they were on better terms since he stole you away from him. Apparently not. The therapist clicks her fingers and reminds him not to talk to Eren.

“That’s a shame. I had hoped you could help me, they’re all deceased, you see. Quite grisly murders, actually.” she tells him, not even looking at him as she focuses on her note taking. It scares Zeke to hear. Four women murdered. It’s a scary world to live in. It’s enough to encourage him to light up a cigarette and get comfier in his seat as he digests the information.

“That’s horrible. All the same killer, you think? Or—”

“What do you like to do for fun, Zeke?” the therapist asks him again. His eyes scrunch as he wonders if he heard her right. Haven’t they been over this already? Why does she keep asking?

“I… I enjoy eating. There is a restaurant in the city that is difficult to get on the guest list for, but they usually make an exception for my colleagues and I. That could be considered fun.” he tells her. She doesn’t bother writing it down, which makes him feel like he’s said something boring. Or something wrong entirely.

“I assume you and your fiancé have a considerable amount of sex? How much, would you say?” she queries. Zeke scratches his beard as he thinks about it. He pushes his glasses a little way up his nose, again, before answering.

“Not as much recently. Three times a week, possibly? Work is exhausting. I’d never be off her if I had the choice.” he confesses. That is something she deems necessary to write down. She even pouts as she does, like she’s really concentrating on getting every single word perfect.

“Do you cheat on her? You sometimes pay for prostitutes, have you done that since you became engaged?” she asks him. He looks down, awkwardly, and concentrates on the sounds of his bones cracking as he crushes his knuckles. He sighs, though, preparing to answer yet again.

“Unfortunately I do. I’m not proud of it, it doesn’t mean I love her any less.” he explains, trying his very best to justify himself and his abhorrent behaviour. She’s writing yet again. He notices the way her eyes harshen when she’s writing something particularly juicy, otherwise her brows remain relaxed and her eyes almost appear lifeless.

“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”

“Why do you—? Music, I like listening to music at home. Dancing and a few drinks with the right music on is fun, for me.”

“Those four women were prostitutes.” she announces casually, scribbling some more and not making any form of eye contact as she speaks. Zeke’s jaw hangs low as he comes to realise what might be happening here.

“I feel like you’re accusing me of something.” he tells her. She doesn’t confirm nor deny. She simply keeps her eyes fixated on him as he begins to awkwardly laugh under her intimidating glare.

“Could you tell me about the first time you had sexual intercourse with your fiancé?”

Oh boy, could he. But should he? Would you approve of him diving into the intimate intricacies of your relationship and what you get up to between the sheets? It’ll be fine, he thinks, patient doctor confidentiality is a requirement. He knows that just as well as she does.

Eren had brought you home for the first time to introduce you to his brother. Zeke couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. From head to toe you were a total knockout. How a shit bag like Eren bagged a girl like you, he’ll never know. You spent the evening getting to know more about each other. About their family and their relationship with one another. It was sweet, you thought.

Zeke couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Eren was the same, you were the only one who realised how intensely the brothers were staring at you. But of course, you didn’t comment on it. Instead, the three of you drank more and more. You drank the least, but it was still enough to feel tipsy.

Eren drank the most and he blacked out completely. Zeke had to carry him from the dining room chair to his bedroom. He landed on the soft mattress and bounced a little when Zeke let him fall from his arms.

“I think you like me, Zeke.” you said. He smirked immediately and you noticed his face go a little red. You stepped a little closer towards him, unable to keep away from his magnetic charm. “Am I… right? To think that.” you questioned. He shook his head, you were perfectly correct.

“I like the idea of bending you over and seeing what you look like stuffed full of me. If that means I like you, sure, I like you. But you’re with my little brother. I’m wondering why you’d ask a question like that when you’re engaged to him. Do you like me, too?”

You stood closer to him, wanting that to answer his question. It does. His hands moved around your neck and then one held the back of your head as he landed his lips on yours. It became heated quite quickly. Both of your hearts racing with adrenaline as you knew Eren could have woken up at any moment. He picked you up and made you wrap your legs around his waist so that he could carry you to his own bedroom.

You were set down and he pushed your body against his floor to ceiling mirror in his room. He dropped to the balls of his feet and then onto his knees, pulling your panties from underneath your skirt and tossing them over his shoulder. He nuzzled his face between your thighs and began to lick at your delicate, petalled flesh. Your little pearl was at his mercy, your hips bucking and stuttering with each suckle and slurp. He looked up at you, face and beard sparkling with pussy juice.

“Turn around, look at yourself.” he demanded. You did, and watched your own body as he began to undress you. He whispered under his breath. Mostly about how beautiful you were. He loved the way your face contorted when he spanked your ass. So, he did it again, and again, and again. “You look gorgeous when you hurt.”

That’s when he decided to soak his cock with your juices. He slid it up and down between your folds to make sure he was wet enough for you to take. He smoothed your hair back so you could both look at your face when he began to tear you apart with his thick cock.

“That’s it. Good girl, how’s the stretch feeling?”

“It— It hurts so good.” you moaned for him. It made him smile cockily. Of course it does. It was just what he wanted to hear.

He loved the way your jaw hung low and eyes were almost fully white as he ploughed into your little cunt. He adored that you didn’t care how fucking loud you were moaning on him, it didn’t bother you that Eren was in the next room. It was euphoric when you began to tighten on him like the little whore you are. You angled your body slightly so that you could face him. Kiss him. He was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly, you scratched down his defined back and earned a cat-like hiss from your soon to be brother in law.

“Fucking bitch, are you gonna cum?” he asked. You nodded like a fool. So damn close. He watched your pretty O face as you hit your peak. It was an inspired idea that he had decided to fuck you in front of the mirror. He doesn’t think he would have been able to examine your reactions and responses as perfectly as he did if he was facing you directly.

He didn’t let you relax as you came down from your high, though. He held your head in place and insisted you look at him as he fills your cunt up with himself. He’s giving you everything he has, the least you can do is admire him as he does so.

“You came in her?” the therapist asks, Zeke nods a little too proudly in front of his sibling. “Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Did you cum in these four women that you fucked?” she asks him as she spreads the photographs out on the coffee table for a second time. He leans forward and looks at them again. He only shrugs his shoulders, though.

“Maybe. It’s likely. I don’t usually like to pull out or wear protection.” he tells her. She writes that down. Zeke isn’t afraid anymore, he’s starting to get agitated. “How much longer is this session?”

“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”

“Are you aware of how many times you’ve asked me this question?” he answers her question with his own. He pushes his hair back again as he slinks back into his seat. She isn’t done with him, though, he can tell that much by her demeanour.

“That’s not how things ended with your fiancé though, is it? How did it end?”

“Eren here caught us, unsurprisingly.”

“That isn’t what I was referring to. He wouldn’t have caught you if your fiancé wasn’t screaming.”

“Screaming?”

“Screaming, Zeke. Don’t you remember?” he shakes his head at her question. He remembers nothing of the sort. She didn’t scream. He would remember that. Wouldn’t he? He’d remember if she was screaming. “I think you’re confused. Are you confused, Zeke?”

“Very. I wouldn’t make her scream, only in a good way. Why would she be screaming?” he questions. She flips through her notebook and leans her body forward so that Zeke knows she’s reading directly to him.

“She claims the sex was indeed consensual. She instigated it and she enjoyed it until the screaming started. Can’t you remember? Can’t you try and remember why she was screaming?” she talks at him, he shakes his head again. His mind is blank. Is he going insane? “You’ve been referring to her as your fiancé. She’s nothing of the sort. You don’t have sex three times a week, you had sex that one time.”

“No,”

“Yes, Zeke,” she insists as she flips through her notes again. Instead of reading, she had another polaroid image to show him. “Might this jog your memory?” she asks, placing it above the other images.

It’s you. All bloody and cut to ribbons. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re so beautiful but so broken. Who could do this to you?

“Jesus, what happened to her? Can I see her?”

“What do you do for fun, Zeke?”

“Stop asking me that! I want to know what happened to my fiancé! I need to see her!” he raises his voice, momentarily standing from his seat before the therapists scalding glare forces him back into his seat.

“You happened to her. Shall I read her statement to you?” she queries, flipping through her papers until she finds your handwriting. She clears her throat as she prepares to speak. Zeke looks terrified. He doesn’t know you or himself. “We were flirting discretely over dinner. When Eren went to bed it got more intense and I knew I wanted to have sex with him, so we did. We were against the mirror in his bedroom and he performed oral sex on me. He made me look at myself as we had sex and it was pleasant. Until he snapped. I think the change happened when I scratched his back. He started calling me names and he became rougher with me. As he began to climax, he pushed my head against the mirror and told me that I need to see how a whore takes his cum. He didn’t stop pushing and that’s when I started screaming. He pushed so hard that the glass broke, shards entering and slicing the skin on my face. That’s when Eren came in.”

She finishes speaking and looks at Zeke incredulously. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t believe you would tell such a vicious lie. Are you trying to ruin him to save your reputation? You’re his fiancé now, why would you do such a thing?

“I wouldn’t— I would not do that.”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Are you listening to me? I did not fucking hurt that girl, I love her. We’re happy.” Zeke expressed pathetically. It was obvious to him that she wasn’t buying it, though. But who was she going to believe? Women stick together in times like these.

“What happened between you and Eren when he found the two of you?”

“We argued but, everything is fine now, right Eren?” Zeke asks his brother. He simply shakes his head, remaining completely silent as he does. “I don’t— I don’t understand what is happening.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember what you did to her? Or if you slept with these prostitutes?” she goads him, but he shakes his head in utter refusal. When will this end? “You aren’t yourself right now, Zeke.”

“Fuck you.” he spits at her. She only smiles.

“Do you remember hurting your brother?”

“Aren’t therapists supposed to help people? Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”

“He came in to see what all of the ruckus was about when his fiancé was screaming. You picked up a huge shard of mirror glass and pinned him to the armchair and stabbed him again and again. You don’t remember killing your brother?” she explains. He scoffs at that.

“Eren isn’t dead, he’s right here. Are you stupid?”

“Zeke, tell me what you like doing for fun.”

“No! What the fuck is the matter with you? You’re making up lies about my fiancé and my brother.”

“This girl here was stabbed. This one was chased and murdered with a chainsaw. This one was shot. This one was strangled. And you were the last person to see them all alive, after paying them for sex.”

“I don’t care about them. I care about why the fuck you just told me my brother is dead.” he barks. She shakes her head and stares at him.

“You tried to kill Eren’s fiancé. She managed to get away and call the police. But it was too late for Eren, he’s dead.” she tells him yet again. He almost growls at her answer, unable to believe she’s still speaking so cruelly to him and his brother.

“Are you blind? He’s here. He’s literally right fucking h—” Zeke has to pause as he turns to face his brother one final time. He isn’t sitting beside him pulling sarcastic faces and refusing to speak. He isn’t disgusted with him after the therapist had dredged up their past and betrayals.

No.

Eren is dead. He is right next to Zeke, but he is dead. His head drooping backwards over the back of the arm chair with dozens of stab wounds in his neck and even more on his shoulders and down to his stomach. The large mirror shard is still lodged in his younger siblings’ neck. His head moves rigidly so he can face the therapist. He looks down at the coffee one final time. He remembers you. You only met one time and he fucked you stupid. He remembers smashing your head into the mirror. He remembers how badly he needed you and how tight you were around his cock. He’s even starting to remember the prostitutes. At this point, he’s crying. Not because he’s sad, he’s laughing maniacally. It’s all coming back.

Fuck.

Every single thing is coming back to him, now.

“What do you like to do for fun, Zeke?” she asks, one final time. He manages to still his laughter as he wipes away his tears. He has an answer for her now. He finally has an answer he thinks she’s going to like.

“I like killing people,” he laughs softly, smoking a cigarette he lights up. A cigarette he feels may be his final one for a long time. “I like killing people, for fun.”

#zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #zeke x you #zeke x reader #tw cheating #tw violence #tw dubcon #tw murder

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Batboys x PTSD!gn!friend

@ultravioletqueen asked me about my opinion on how batboys would act/be with someone who's has positive and optimistic character but on the other side deals with the PTSD (like Yui Komori, for those who watches anime). so here's what I think:

Dick

Our golden boy has an oldest daughter complex and is a people pleaser. No denying that. So, if he was to deal with someone who’s generally sunshine and rainbow but has a traumatic past I imagine him getting in his full-care attitude. Every time he sees that person getting lost inside their own head or triggered he would come right in, safe them from whoever or whatever they are dealing with and offer safe space. Maybe alongside with some dad jokes and intentionally bad puns to make them feel better, but that’s only if he knows it would be ok. If not, he would just stay with them, making sure they are all right, maybe cuddling or just giving them silent reassurance that while he’s with them nothing wrong can ever happen and that they are safe. He's a savior in the literal meaning of the word.

Jason

If anyone knows something about PTSD it’s Jason since he himself has been through hell and back. I think that at first he would be distant around the other one with PTSD since every time something triggers them and they fall into the traps of the past events, it would remind him of his own trauma. So initially he would just keep his distance and try to act indifferent. But after a while, when he notices all the patterns they repeat he would step in. He may not show it, but he cares. And if there’s anything he can do to prevent them from making the same mistakes with reliving the nightmare, he would do it. Unlike Dick, though, he would not wait for it to pass, rather find something to keep their mind busy. Training, books, patrol, whatever. It’s like his silent way to show them the past is in the past and they have to move on with their life.

Tim

Tim is the most analytical one in the family so I definitely see him as someone who would dig in PTDS person past to get to the bottom of the problem. Is it intrusive? Most definitely, but it has never stopped him before, and besides he has all the good intentions in mind. So, when he figures out the issue he would come up with like a dozen of plans to make it go away, using psychological methods. But don’t be mistaken, he would never turn into a therapist, that’s not his style at all. I believe he would rather act like the knowledgeable friend he is. Fully aware about the triggers and how to avoid them, what words not to use, what memories are painful. He has it all figured out and even if he does not show all the work he made with it, he would be the first to notice the signs of trauma coming back and stop it before it fully starts.

Damian

Well, he’s a former assassin and the youngest one so I don’t think he would be familiar with PTSD until any of his brothers explained it to him. Obviously he would just shrug it off and act like nothing ever happened, not fusing about it or treating the person with that disorder any differently than before. And basically that is just it. And to be honest I think that this would be one of the most beneficial approach in the case. He’s not as tuned into emotions as his brothers, he would have no idea about the symptoms or triggers and would just act like his normal self, talking to the person or bickering. And that, that would be a way to make the PTSD person come down to earth. In their head they may be going through drama, panic and anxiety but a few teasing words from Dami would make them wake up from it and realize that whatever they were projecting was not real.

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 8 months

Text

Hey, Little Songbird

Final Chapter - AO3

Three days after the defeat of Gabriel Agreste and the arrest of Lila Rossi, Felix was invited out for ice cream by his classmates.

A little flustered, he’d agreed without thinking. Rationally, there was little reason to why Lê Chiếninvited him to join, and even less of a reason why Felix accepted. There was still too much to do in the wake of Hawkmoth’s arrest; lawyers to speak to, statements given to police and press alike, entertaining his mother who’d overtaken his home to take custody of Adrien… Frivolities like ice cream socials couldn’t be entertained.

Despite that idea, Felix found himself smiling under the sun, surrounded by classmates as they all took turns at the food cart.

Couffaine and her girlfriend—a few days of diligent study only unearthed a few of his classmates names, not all—stepped out of his way, a sundae to share between the two. He approached the ice cream stall and—“Where is your menu?”

The man, Andre or something similar, smiled merrily. “Ah, so this is your first time at Sweethearts Ice Cream? Allow me to explain.” Picking up his scoop, Andre started to fulfill his order despite Felix having never ordered anything. “Sweethearts Ice Cream has a special ablility; to connect the hearts of two people in love. The harmony of two hearts in love influences the flavors of the ice cream. And there!” With a flourish, Andre offered him his waffle cone ice cream. “Blackberry for her hair, blue bubblegum for her eyes, and black cherry for her secret you keep in your heart.”

“…This is a terrible business model.” Despite his words, Felix paid the man and took his cone. “I don’t even know who this could refer to.”

“Really? You have no idea?”

Nearly dropping his ice cream, Felix whirled around. “M-Marinette!? When did you get here?”

“Just now,” she said, squeezing up beside him at the counter. “Hey, Andre.”

“Marinette! You’re ready to give Sweethearts Ice Cream another chance then?” Andre grinned at them both. “Or… would you two like to try my Couples Sundae? It’s free for new lovers.”

Felix flushed, a protest frozen in his throat. Fortunately, Marinette could still speak. “No, thank you,” she said, voice pitched higher than usual. “Just a regular ice cream, please.”

“Of course, of course.” Changing his scoop for a fresh one, Andre started on a new waffle cone: a base of yellow with dark chocolate, with a scoop of bright blue on top. “Banana for his hair, cotton candy for his eyes, and…” He flipped the cone over and dipped it in chocolate, “…a dark chocolate shell, since you broke through his.”

Blushing, Marinette accepted her ice cream. Felix offered her his arm and escorted Marinette towards a bench separate from the class, who were watching them. Lê Chiến even offered Felix a grin and a thumbs-up, to which he awkwardly returned with a nod.

“How…” She paused to take a bite of her ice cream, dark chocolate snapping between her teeth. “How has everything been? I’m sorry for not being in class the past few days, but it’s been so busy…”

“I can only imagine.” Marinette—or rather, Ladybug—has been in and out of the police station as often as Adrien was, giving her statement. Between that and the press conference Mme. Bustier stopped class to let them watch yesterday, if she’d spent more time as Marinette than Ladybug these last few days, Felix would French-kiss Rossi. “It’s been quiet, especially once Ladybug announced that Gabriel was Hawkmoth. Ms. Bustier tried to make us talk about our feelings, but everyone’s still a bit too shocked to discuss it.” After all, it wasn’t every day when you discovered your classmate’s father was the terrorist who turned you into a supervillain. Reporters had hounded their class from the moment the news dropped.

They were even worse towards his family.

“The school’s talking about shipping in a therapist for us,” Felix explained. “Not only that whole Akuma Class nonsense, but also because we were in direct contact with a terrorist for months on end. So, you have that to look forward to when you get back.” Rossi was allowed unrestricted access to vulnerable minds for over half a year. There was no doubt his class needed therapy… including Marinette.

“At least she’s been expelled from the country,” Marinette said, sighing. “Honestly, that was harder than giving my statement ten times over. The Prime Minister wanted her trial on French soil. I had to argue with the Prime Minister! All for Lila.”

“Why?” Felix would never do anything to help Rossi.

“News of her involvement is going to drop any day now. People are already trying to attack Gabriel in his cell; when the mob of public opinion finds out about her, they’ll start trying to get her too. At least this way she’ll be tried back in her home country, by people who were never directly affected by her actions.”

Felix didn’t like it, but “It’s understandable. People are also trying to get to Adrien, despite his innocence.”

Marinette nodded, half-expected that. “How is Adrien? I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“One of his photographers leaked his phone number, so Mom took his phone away so he wouldn’t have to read all the vile filth people send him. He’s getting a new one soon.”

It wasn’t that Felix didn’t understand why people were so upset. Gabriel turned Paris into a battleground and friends into foes, but… the police had already released a statement denying Adrien’s cooperation regarding Hawkmoth, yet there are still hateful phone calls and texts coming in at every hour from people who wanted someone to blame. At least Mother was keeping a record of who sent the more illegal messages: the threats, the doxing, the… suicide baiting.

Their family lawyer would be well fed in the coming months.

It was hard with Adrien in his house. Awkward. Despite Adrien’s frame-job, he was still family, and Felix was someone who supported his family. But that didn’t mean Adrien was forgiven. Felix didn’t forgive, and he’d never forget.

Surprisingly, the tabloids were kind towards Felix. He made no effort in hiding his involvement in the case, both as the whistle blower for Hawkmoth and as a hero involved in the final take down. Mother had cut out some particularly flattering articles out to hang in their manor parlor, but fortunately the threat of arrest and restraining orders kept most of the rats away.

“How’d Adrien take it?” she asked.

Felix bit his ice cream, so he’d have time to answer. Damn that ice cream man. It was delicious. “He didn’t believe it at first… didn’t want to believe it. He’s seeing a therapist on Friday.”

Marinette wrapped her hands around her ice cream cone. “Poor Adrien…”

“He’ll recover; he’s stronger than you think. He’s already made plans to hang out for the weekend.” He gestured at Alya and DJ Boy, leaning against each other and sharing a sundae. Alya caught his eye and waved. “Everyone’s going to be okay now.”

“Yeah.” Marinette drank in the sight. Not just Alya and her paramour—though they earned a smile for finally making up—but their other classmates as well. Felix had never been invited to a class outing before, but even though they’d broken up into subgroups of couples and friends, everyone looked happy. “We’ll recover.”

The sun shined down on them all, warming skin like a heated blanket. Felix studied the melting treat at hand. “So. Ladybug?”

She flinched.

“I haven’t told anyone,” he reassured. “I understand why it’s a secret. I understand why you didn’t tell me. But…” He sighed. “I’ve been keeping this to myself for days. Can you please just… confirm?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.” She peeked at him from the corners of her eyes. “This is me, confirming. Yes.”

Okay. A shiver ran through him. Marinette was Ladybug. His best friend was a superhero and trusted him enough to be a superhero too.

He was in love with Ladybug.

As was Chat Noir. And half of Paris. Shit.

“So, what gave me away?” she asked.

“Little things. Nothing anyone else could put together.” Little things that added up into the big picture. The way Ladybug knew he’d worn a hoodie earlier that day, the inherent trust she had in a man she previously punched in the face, the way she looked at him. But most importantly, Felix felt that she’d wanted to get caught, that Marinette had wanted him to know she was Ladybug, and that was what removed the block in his mind preventing him from realizing.

“Small mercies,” she muttered. “Did you really think I was Rena Rogue?”

Felix hid his face in his ice cream. “…It made sense at the time?”

She laughed at him. “Alya’s never going to let you live that down.”

Alya? Why would Alya care—? Oh. He felt his face growing red and it had nothing to do with the weather. “She really won’t, will she?” He asked, sounding faint.

“Yeah, you really dropped the ball on that conclusion. You should have heard her complain! “Your boy is so stupid, how do you even stand him?””

And now Felix was blushing for a different reason. Her boy?

“—I tried to keep her from talking about it in front of the other temporary heroes, but I think Viperion knows. Carapace definitely does.”

“Did she complain in front of Hawkmoth too?” he grumbled, wishing he was wearing a hoodie to better hide his face. “Throw Rossi into the loop while she’s at it? Maybe my mother would like to know all my follies?”

“Oh! Speaking of your mom—” Marinette pulled a chain out from under her shirt. His breath caught in his throat. She’d kept it on her person? “You can finally return this to her.” Threading the wedding ring off her necklace, she placed it his hand, its matching pair resting on his finger.

He squeezed it, the smooth ridges cutting into his palm… and returned it to her. “Keep it. It’s exactly where it needs to be.”

“What? But this is the entire reason you were here!” She tried to give it back again. “It’s your family ring!”

“It’s my family’s wedding ring,” he corrected. “And while most would consider this too forward of an approach, the realization that you’re the most eligible bachelorette in Paris is making me react… strongly. So, I was thinking about a spring wedding? After we graduate Lycée, of course, so it would be a long engagement—”

Marinette covered his mouth, face blush red from the tips of her ears to the neckline of her shirt. “What!?” She asked, voice cracking. “M-M-Marriage!? Felix, we can’t…”

“Well, yes, not right now. That’s why I said after Lycee.” Obviously. “I don’t see what the issue is? My family has had arranged marriages for centuries, and we like each other. Right?” Had he misidentified her feelings? She always acted sweet with him and blushed when he flirted, but what if he was wrong? What if he humiliated himself and ruined their friendship in one swift move—

“Of course I like you, but you haven’t even asked me out on a date yet!” She burst out, causing the rest of the class to glance over. She buried her face in her hands and continued, voice muffled, “Dating comes before marriage; I can’t believe I have to explain this to you!”

Oh. That was the issue. Gently pulling her hands away, he dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I got ahead of myself.” Alya glared at him from over Marinette’s shoulder. Nosy overprotective reporters, getting in everyone else’s business… “I didn’t mean to pressure you. What I mean with the ring is… a promise. I would love to be in a relationship with you, if you’d have me.”

She looked up at him from underneath her lashes. “A promise?”

“To stay by your side and support you in your endeavors.” His family’s marriage vows echoed in his mind, passed down from his grandparents, from his grandfather who was so in love with his grandmother that he couldn’t think of a world where she wasn’t his equal. “As long as you stay by my side and support me in return. To lift you up through the hard times and rejoice with your success. To be equals in all things. That’s what I want to promise you.”

Tears budded in her eyes. “To stay by your side… to be equals… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend? And going out on a date with me?”

Her tears ran down her face, but her smile lit up the entirety of Paris with her joy. “Yes. I’d love to, Felix.”

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice@dur55@kris-pines04@18-fandoms-unite-08@moonlightstar64@bee-a-garbage-shipper@sol-o-shade@kittyotakunoir666@tinyterror333@allieoftheenemy@marichat00@xgxmxtx@two-faced-biatch@feliciakainzofspades@evil-cricket@emilytopaz@spicybelladonna@chocolateherringtacofan@user00000003@wannajointhecrabcult@happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423 @unoriginalmessess @toodaloo-kangaroo @troycattribunny@nikipuppeteer

#ml salt #lila rossi's lies are exposed #felinette #fandom felix #lila salt #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #hey little songbird #mlb #miraculous fanfic #salt fanfic #thank you all for reading #your comments meant the world to me #except for the lila anon

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sesamestreep · 1 month

Note

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

#lmao zainab's exact words when we talked about this prompt were 'i'm in my slightly confused but supportive parental energy era'#my madness is being indulged so patiently #anyway this has been stressing me out for a month now just take it away from me!!!#the terror #the terror amc #fitzier #francis crozier #james fitzjames #thomas blanky #writing prompt #reverse fanfic tropes prompts #god i've forgotten how to even tag writing anymore...#firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#prompt fill #as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'#except i am always lying because i always know #most important part of this AU is that tunbaaq is The Pit #and ross is mark brendana-quits #and that's most of what you need to know #please join me in imagining all of the truly absurd parks plotlines i can shove these idiots into #my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage #traffic jam together for hours #i just think it would break them you know?? and that's fun #anyway....

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dozing-marshmallow · 23 days

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Hi!! Love the fic that you wrote of reader visiting Chris in prison. Could you write an angsty follow-up of reader finally breaking up with him after he gets out of prison with her being fed up with his unablity to change his negative thoughts and actions.

Ouchhh! Quite angsty, indeed!

HEY EVERYONE! Sorry for my long due absence. I’m currently in the middle of exam season, so that’s been taking up majority of my time, but I can say with certainty that afterwards (in four weeks), I’ll be free to post as frequently as I did before and complete all the requests I received! Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy part 2 of this one shot!

Content warning, this one shot involves dysfunctional relationships, so please read at own risk.

CHRIS MCLEAN IN JAIL PART 2- ANGST

“(Y/NNNNN)!” your sweet separated husband exclaims, fixing his arms around you on his return home,“It’s so great to be back again!”

“H-Hi Chris...” you cough, squeezing him back,“How do you feel?”

“Better!” he chirped, patting your spine,“You know, I actually feel like a changed person!”

“Really?” Yeah right.

He nods, pulling away, that grin of his never ageing,“Yep! I realllyyy feel like a functioning member of society, ready to amend and give back!”

Yeah right.

You never thought you would be in the back kitchen with Chef about this.

Two years after his first release.

That’s right.

With heavy bags and sore limbs, you desperately explain,“I’ve tried to convince him to see a therapist or go to marriage counselling sessions with me, but he doesn’t listen!” you wince down to the ground. That word “marriage” felt more like “Hell” to you,“I feel like he’s getting worse and worse...”

“What can you do, (Y/N)? By law, he’s a grown man. No one, not even his mom can tell him what to do.” Chef Hatchet grunted, slicing some potatoes, as though he was not surprised,“Have you considered divorce?”

Divorce!,“That’s ridiculous, Chef. You know you can’t just file a divorce whenever you want. Marriage is a lifetime commitment and I still see the man I love.”

“And it’s that he’s takin’ advantage of.” That knife went blunter this time around,“He thinks it’s okay to go about like a criminal, because he has the money and popularity to get out of it, but if you walk out on him, he’ll eventually realise what he’s lost. I’m dead serious. You keep sticking by him like this, he’ll never change.”

“Hm...” that was an interesting way of thinking, you’ll admit. Maybe it was time to start looking into divorce? But... “What if that approach just turns out for the worst? You know how he is. He’ll turn the tables and play victim, putting the blame on me for not being strong enough to support him and for breaking my promise for making my love conditional-“

Chef looks at you like the pieces were threatening to cut your fingers off,“Do you even hear yourself as you speak about him?”

You stop.

Dang it, he had a point,“But divorce... It still feels a bit too drastic. Besides, I want to give him a chance.” you offer a strong smile.

He paused entirely in his vegetable slicing this time,“A chance?”

Oh... Yes, you’ve given him plenty of chances already. You force the smile to stay on, as convincing as you tried,“W-We’ll just see how it goes. Besides, I still really wanna make this work.”

Your husband’s so-called best friend shakes his head, leaving you with a pitiful glimmer in his eye,“You’re a good woman, (Y/N). You don’t deserve this.”

Well, you wish you listened to him sooner.

And at some point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

So one day, when you got your suitcase ready and your temporary accommodation sorted in secret, you mustered the courage to break it off.

Your heart was leaping. From what? Anxiety? Excitement? Both? You’ll never know.

It took a lot to get this far. You were going to see it through the end.

No matter how messy it will be.

Obviously when you gently touched on Chris’ behaviour as the reason why you were filing for divorce, he tried denying it,“What are you talking about? I’m a changed man! Prison’s changed me for the better!”

Oh please,“Unless it’s Opposite Day, you should not be using that word.”

You weren’t afraid and that’s what startled him,"N-Now who gave you the right to declare the end of this relationship?! Only I get to choose whether to throw you out on the street or keep you around!” he then strangely turned his head to lean the smooth skin on his cheekbone in your face,“Now give me a kiss."

You almost puke in your mouth,“I’m serious, Chris. I want nothing to do with you anymore.”

“Serious? What do you know about serious? You don’t understand anything!” he barked, slamming his fist on the table.

Your eyelids remained just halfway down,“I understand plenty.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand that this is a really dumb decision! We’ve had so many great memories (Y/N), you and I!” his defensive tone morphs into a tone of love,“I love you so much, more than Total Drama ratings! And you give meaning to my life, more than any show I’ve ever hosted!”

There it is. He says all these words then treats you like a broken clock. You made sure he witnessed your sight tap on the papers you laid out for him.

“You’re totally being dramatic! In the worst way possible! I literally give you the life, not even middle class peasants can dream of, and this is what you do to me!?” he was raising his voice. The sign of desperation,“How do you think I feel? Have some respect!”

Respect, huh? You scoffed, rolling the pen further to him,“Oh I’ve tried to be respectful, Chris. In fact, I would much rather live as a “middle class peasant” than live with you any longer.”

He gasps, before snarling,“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” Chris was too arrogant to get physical with you, and you knew that. The worst he was gonna do is throw petty insults at you.

But he took a scarier approach. He wasn’t fuming or swearing or raving; a smile drew on his lips instead as he sprinkled sugar laced words in your direction.

“Awww. Don’t let your anger speak for you, darling. You know sooner or later, you’re gonna regret ending us like this. And I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you regret losing me. Losing us,” now he has your waist in his arm,“Come on sweetheart, talk to me. I know you just need someone to listen.”

Listen. Is that a fucking joke?

Adoration emitted from his eyes into yours,“We can talk about this. We can talk and exchange forgiveness like we always do. Because we love each other. We’ll come around to see eye to eye and I’ll forgive you for being so annoying.” His other hand begins to comb your hair,“We can forget this ever happened and I’ll even treat you to an awesome date night. I know you really love those, and I would be more than happy to give it to you, as your beloved husband.”

...The thought was tempting.

TAKE YOUR FILTHY HAND OFF ME.

But that was a lot more motivating.

“Nice try. Your empty promises won’t work on me this time.” you push him away. That’s it. You’re strong, you’re strong, you’re strong!,“I don’t need your money. Or your time. I can do fine on my own.”

He stopped running his hand in your hair. Oh, the pride you felt when you watched his bottom lip quiver! You could watch the scene over and over again.

Your instinct to smirk is quickly cowered when Chris shoves you away, thankfully not so forceful to make you lose balance completely as he huffed, that charming persona displaced by his true ugly.

“You want your stupid divorce? Fine!” He angrily scratches the papers with his signature,“There’s your stupid divorce! Now get out of my sight before I change my mind! Only a stupid whore like you would go through with making the awesomest celebrity in the world give up on you! You better not come crawling back after selling your body around for six dollars!”

Wow! Who knew he would resort to sexualising you in such a derogatory way to try get a reaction from you? “No... That’s not true! You know I would never do that! I’m more than just my body!”

“I’ll take the six dollars over you any day.” Hah! Who cares what he had to say? He’s not your husband anymore!

He gritted his teeth as he witnessed you leave his mansion one last time,“You’re ruined, you hear me!? I’ll make sure you lose your job and never find one again!” That’s not true. That’s not true,“I’ll see to it that you live on animal carcasses disposed by yours truly for the rest of your moping days, in conditions more suffocating than maximum prison!”

Such is the behaviour of a scumbag who lost control.

That was the right thing.

Thank Heavens you had your loyal friends and your own ethical job. If any of these things were different, even by a tiny bit, you probably would have still been stuck with Chris McLean. Chained. Trapped. Miserable.

This was the right thing.

You don’t want to think about what could have happened. The important thing was, you got out of it, and he wasn’t your problem anymore. Yet a part of you felt so dissatisfied with how the whole ordeal went. I thought I would feel more different... Why do I still feel something missing? Is this actually the end of our life together?

And your mind, learning from the worst, continued the cycle of torment. Was that really the best way to end things? Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was it really the right choice? Why did you waste so much with him? Were you still in love with him? Is it really too late to start over with love again? Did you really make the worst choice yet by leaving him?

You take a deep breath, and stare back into the eyes of the solitary woman, whose worth was still blinded by the thorns of that demon.

Her brain is pounding from the silence. This might take some getting used to.

You turn the tap on and sigh. For now, you’ll take a nice long shower.

#tdi #tdi x reader #total drama #request #td chris #chris mclean #chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #total drama island chris #td chris mclean x reader #total drama chris

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melishade · 28 days

Text

Attack on Prime Chapter 90: The Big Twist

Spoilers ahead if you haven't read the chapter. I recommend that you do if you haven't.

So.....

let’s talk about Primus. Eh?

So looking back on the Transformers franchise as a whole, Primus himself isn't really capitalized on. In a few of the shows, he’s only name-dropped or doesn’t even exist like TFA. In shows like TFP and the book the Covenant of Primus, he is alluded to and even given a brief backstory of his and Unicron’s origins before shifting gears to the Primes and their dynamics, but never makes an on screen appearance. He’s shown as the core and that’s it. We don’t know what he looks like in the Aligned Continuity. I think there is a toy out for him, but it was never said to be official. The only Transformers content that really explores on Primus is the IDW comics. Where Primus has aligned himself with three other transformer deities, but one of them got really angry with him for some reason and as punishment, got rid of his god powers, made everyone forget ever knowing him after he so much as left the room. (Look my info on IDW is spotty. I never got the chance to read the comics in full. Although god being a therapist is hilarious).

Besides IDW, there aren’t many interpretations or characterizations of Primus, which is a damn shame, considering we’ve always seen Unicron in almost all Transformers iterations. So it was something that I’ve always wanted to take a crack at: putting my own spin on the creator of the Transformers. I wanted to bring him into Attack on Prime, but before the AOT story was completed, I had no clue how to bring Primus into the story without it sounding so contrived and out of nowhere. I couldn’t have him pop out in the sky, tell everyone to stop fighting, and then have him leave, confusing everyone. It wouldn’t have made sense. In fact, I was all but ready to scrap the idea for AOP…until the Paths chapters dropped in the AOT manga, and I realized:

And I immediately got to work on how to incorporate Primus into the story while also making it make sense. Which took a while. I’ve worked on multiple rewrites of Primus’ character and his interactions with Eren and Zeke before creating the final draft for the chapter. I started my brainstorming of my characterization of Primus in late 2019 with the document titled RELGN 132 (which was the title of a religion course I took at UCLA, so fairly on the nose). So yeah, I’ve been working on it for 4+ years.

But first let’s talk about the multiple lead up I’ve had up until this point, because again, I’m meticulous with my foreshadowing. Chapter of foreshadowing include:

Chapter 45 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 72 Chapter 77 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 86

(And a bunch of other additional chapter do have foreshadowing and there is a small inkling of Primus' presence, and I might explain that later, but I want to see if people can piece it together by re-reading the chapter. If not, then I'll probably just say it outright, IDK.)

But, some moments might’ve been noticeable, some not so much. I knew that I didn’t want Primus’ introduction in the Paths to feel out of nowhere. Eren and Zeke are talking and suddenly this guy just pops out of nowhere. I needed him to be alluded to, which is where the 4th notebook and Pieck come in, oh and also Unicron. Well, at least Unicron's powerset.

In the Covenant of Primus, Primus and Unicron are said to come from the same being: The One, who split apart due to its own internal conflict regarding the state of the universe. If Primus and Unicron come from the same being, they must have the same abilities. Or similar abilities at least. One of the abilities should include: using their blood to communicate with others who carry their blood. Dark energon flows through Unicron while energon flows through Primus. Through energon, all Cybertronians are connected and return to the place they spawned from after their death, regardless of how good or bad their intentions were. If this concept can apply to Cybertronian, surely it could apply to titan shifters, who’s powers even defy death itself on some level. Once all the titan shifters, or at least the Founder, had access to energon, Primus had access to them, and would have found a way to enter the Paths, either through his own power or Vector’s help, since the Paths operate outside of space time. (Primus himself will provide a brief explanation in the Paths II. And the In Between OVA that I keep bringing up, is simply AOP from Primus' perspective. God I am so happy I can say that now!)

But because the Paths operate outside of space and time and the fact that the full powers of the Founder hadn't been utilized on the flow of time, Primus lacked the tools he needs to figure out what the hell was going on or even eliminate the power of the titans. He is flung through the memories and lives of each titan shifter; however, some memories are blocked from him and he doesn’t know why. And because of Primus lack of control, he can’t properly interact with the world around him. He can only interact with other titan shifters as a distorted image. A shadow. He can’t give so much information to Kruger and Pieck. He can only provide images, hidden clues because of the barrier between them. And Primus wants to learn about the truth of the AOT world, so he sees through their eyes and listens to their stories. Even when Kruger and Pieck interact with Primus and even touch him, they are met with a warm, gentle, touch of comfort. Something to show that he is other worldly. In addition to that, the allusion to the overlap of voices, how Primus knows about even that happened thousands of years into the past, his glowing blue eyes, how he forces Kruger to feel the pain and suffering of the people he turned into titans, how Primus had called Megatron and Arcee by name before asking Pieck to believe in Optimus, proclaiming he would be the one to end the power of the titans. The longer Primus is on screen as the shadow, the more ‘in your face’ the information becomes. If you haven’t pieced together the shadow is Primus, then at the very least, you know that the shadow is Cybertronian.

Other pieces of information that are not so subtle, is actually the local therapist Rung in the Cybertron OVA. If you know your transformers lore, then you should know that Rung is Primus. That was one of the obvious bits of information that I was incorporating here. Some of the interactions that Rung has includes him not batting an eye when Starscream lashes out at him and catches the energon cube with such ease that he completely forgets to react the way a normal person would. The scene that Rung had alone where he looks at the Jackhammer in a remorse manner, almost as if he knows what’s going to happen but can’t do anything about it. Finally, when Rung places a comforting hand on Arcee, Arcee notes that the hand feels warm and comforting, and she feels a swell of emotions. Ya know, like every other interaction he’s had with humans on screen. Not to mention that Rung recommended that Arcee leave the planet on purpose because of prior knowledge of the AOT world because I’ve hinted at the fact that Primus in the story right now is from a time where the events of AOT haven’t happened yet. Right before he sends Optimus (Of course, this will be explain more cohesively within the In between OVA, which is going to focus on Primus and what’s he’s been doing throughout the AOP story).

More subtle bits of information when foreshadowing Primus’ role in the story is the drawing of Optimus Prime’s holoform, or rather Primus, from the 4th notebook. The drawing is led to believe and cement the fact that the Attack Titan can see into the future. Which is true, Primus’ appearance in the story is a future event, however, I have to make a note that what they are looking at is not Optimus. It’s Primus wearing Optimus’ face. So I had to have someone who would take notice of the way that Primus is wearing Optimus’ face. Erwin had to be the observation because he’s the only human that has been known to notice those subtle details and connections. He of course brought this up with Megatron and Megatron does notice the difference. But the drawing is not Megatron’s concern, assuming that someone trying to interpret someone from memory is going to get a few details wrong. Also, they have other priorities to take care of besides a drawing from the past. Megatron and ultimately Erwin let it go, but I’m letting the audience know, something is clearly up. Adding on top of that, Kruger has never met Optimus, but he had seen the shadow’s face before dying. That should be another indicator that it’s not Optimus. It’s the shadow. It’s Primus.

Finally, the more subtle indication of Primus’ presence in the story is the conversation that Eren and Kenshin had about the existence of gods in general. While Kenshin believes that god exists, Eren does not. He critiques god and believe god to be hypocritical while Kenshin believes that god cares and wants the creation to live freely. It’s supposed to be an engaging conversation while also hinting at the fact that Eren’s definitely going to talk to a deity with his mentality and future visions and get the crap kicked out of him.

I’m certain that I missed something but what I’ve wanted to say but the foreshadowing of Primus is there, and I wanted it to be clear. However, Primus’ characterization is something I wanted to discuss for a long time too. Again, we don’t know much about Primus’ character besides Rung, and I didn’t want him to be a stoic deity. That’s boring. I wanted to have some fun. I wanted Primus to be the complete opposite of Unicron. While Unicron is haughty and prideful, Primus is kind and humble. While Unicron loathes the idea of existence and wants death and destruction, Primus believes in life and creation. Unicron believes that everything is beneath him while Primus sees the value of even the smallest living thing. Unicron believes in working alone, and that he is the most powerful being. No one else should have his power. Primus believes in cooperation, unity, and sharing his power. Unicron wants to destroy the universe, Primus wants to be a part of it.

With that in mind, I was able to write a characterization of Primus: a gentle, kind being that cares deeply for the lives of others that may or may not even be his own. Someone who gets excited at the prospect of learning new things about new beings, someone who mourns the loss of life, and someone who gets angry at the prospect of someone wanting to take that life away. Someone who genuinely tries to understand the individual and their experiences in order to truly understand the meaning of life.

However, there is a fatal flaw to Primus. People I've talked with in the transformers fandom, myself included, have criticized Primus for his own inaction during the war. He gave the Matrix to Optimus, sure, but he did nothing to stop the War in its tracks or even stop the caste system from taking place. Why didn’t he help out Megatron and his people? Why didn’t he stop Megatron when he had gone insane? Why did he make Optimus shoulder all his responsibilities twice? Why does Primus not step in when there are life-threatening events that could destroy the universe? The very thing he values and wants to be part of? It’s very simple: Primus is an immortal deity, with powers to see beyond the veil of time and defy reality if he wanted to but chooses not to based on the safety of the whole universe and every living creature. A personal theory I've come up with is the Unicron prophecy in TFP. Unicron was set to reawaken on Earth, but Cybertron doesn’t know about Earth until the war happens. Sure, if the war didn’t happen, the caste system could have been fixed and Cybertron could have been a better place to live, but Unicron would have awakened with no one to stop him and would have destroyed the whole universe, Cybertron included. It’s an example of Primus trying to see the bigger picture and that’s where his flaw lies. When seeing the bigger picture, he ignores the sufferings of mortals who lead very limited lives compared to him. Primus has all the time in the universe to figure everything out, but not Cybertron, and not everyone else. His purpose even if Cybertron is destroyed is to battle Unicron once more. It’s an endless cycle. But Primus ends up missing the point that he wants to understand. There’s a quote from Steven Universe’s character Sapphire that encapsulates this perfectly:

“I keep looking into the future when all of this has already been solved, as if it doesn’t matter how you feel in the present. No wonder you think I don’t care.”

The meaning of life to a mortal is vastly different to that of an immortal. As a result, Primus will never fully understand them and can’t be part of the universe like he wants to. He cannot live and die like they can. But even so, he still tries to, and that’s what makes him all the more understanding. This is what I want to encapsulate for my characterization of Primus in AOP. Now he has to confront two titan shifters with their own flaws and failings: one that wishes to die, and one that wishes to destroy. And he is not happy with either of them trying to play god out of selfishness.

(There's other things that I want to discuss, like Primus' design and other actions within the story, but I think I'll take care of that tomorrow. Still if you haven't, please leave a comment. That would be greatly appreciated. And I encourage you to read back through AOP to find those clues of Primus' presence.

Not to mention, chapter 45 isn't Primus' first appearance.)

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kamii-2 · 8 months

Text

how i think the outsider boys would react to you coming out as lesbian

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

so like this is my first time writing headcannons so i’m very sorry if they suck 😭 please enjoy this post and have a good day :))

i’m sorry that some of them are short then others 😞 idk what to put for them

warnings: mentions of homophobia, cussing, and slurs

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

ponyboy curtis

he would most definitely support you

he would probably ask what it meant

after you told him he would say something along the lines of “OHHH, we’ll just know i support you” and give you a big hug

he would (attempt to) stick up for you if someone was homophobic to you

he would try to put you on with EVERY girl you say is pretty

he would help you tell the rest of the gang about you being lesbian

during pride month he would definitely give you some kind of rainbow or lesbian flag colored gift 😭

he would probably cry when you tell him bc you trust him enough to tell him first

he will definitely almost out you a couple times

like i can imagine him trying to make some random man leave you alone and he says something like “she doesn’t even like bo- ..you.”

johnny cade

johnny wouldn’t know what to say at first 😭

like he would just stare at you then say “..what?”

you’d probably have to explain to him what it means

he would thinks it’s a disease or something

he start to freak out a little 😭 “what does that mean? is it a sickness? is it contagious?”

he would most definitely support you

yk bc he’s gay and all (just like ponyboy)

he would ask you who ur crush is then ask pony to help out you guys on

he would probably accidentally out you to the whole group

like i can imagine him saying something along the line of “so how’s everything going with you and your girlfriend?” then everyone stares at you 😭

tbh i can’t really picture hum doing/saying anything else to you besides checking up on you and your crush/girlfriend

he seems like he wouldn’t care if you were lesbian or straight or anything else

dally winston

he would laugh at you at first bc he tougher you were joking

once he sees you not smiling he said “oh- you’re for real?”

he would be slightly homophobic 😭

he’s the type of guy to accidentally out you to the whole town

he would beat up anybody who made fun of you

he would says slurs but not in a mean way (ifykwim)

bro would jokingly bully you for being gay

like he would say stuff like “that’s why you’re gay” and you would say “don’t you like girls too?”

dally would see something rainbow and immediately say something to/about you

*sees rainbow cup at store* “look its your twin” and he would start laughing extremely loud after 😭

just like pony, he would try and put you on with EVERY SINGLE GIRL you call fine or look at

sodapop curtis

he would give you a big fat hug when you come out to him

he would start to cry a little 😭

he would protect you from homophobes

i could see him yelling at someone or beating them up bc they were homophobic to you

he would be so nice to you and help you with any type of relationship problems

he would be ur therapist

“soda i don’t even know what to do anymore man, i just want her so bad but-“ “shhhh it’s okay, why don’t you find a new crush?”

soda would somehow get you with your crush after only talking to her about you one time

“sooo…how do you feel about my friend y/n?” and then he would go on for like 30 minutes on why she should be with you and stuff like that

he would also get you gifts for pride month 😭

steve randle

he would be kinda frozen for a second

“steve…i like girls..” “……….me too”

he would be super duper chill about it

he would help you with any type of relationship advice or anything to do with relationships

he would teach you how to flirt

he would help you get ready for dates

he would definitely ask you to work at the DX with him and soda just to see hot girls all day (and to actually work, but mostly to look at girls all day long)

he would give you pep talks before dates/asking girls out

two-bit matthews

biggest hype man ever

would yell in happiness at you telling him

you both go to the nightly double and rate random girls

“what about that broad over there” “7/10”

you both have completely different taste in women

“that lady that just walked by was fine as hell” “two-bit matthews, that lady was ugly”

he would be so interested in all of your love life drama (all of the guys are)

he would give the worst advice ever

like don’t trust any advice he gives you bc you might get beat up 😭

he would say slurs aswell but once you tell him what they mean, he would stop

“stop it fag” “two… that’s a slur” “IM SO SORRY, I DIDNT KNOW” then he would give you a big hug 😭

he would attempt to be ur relationship therapist but would fail horribly

darry curtis

he would not care at all

“darry.. i’m gay” “…okay?”

he would protect you from homophobes (they all would)

he would let you rant to him about your love life

idk what to put for him 😭

i’m so very sorry this one is so short

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i hope you guys enjoyed this post :)) i hope you all have a good day!! bye love you all 💋💋

#the outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #dally winston #two bit mathews #steve randle #lesbian #platonic!reader #headcannons

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stories-and-chaos · 2 months

Text

Tarnished pt 29

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 29/?? Word Count: 1535]

—————

Blitzø continued explaining the upcoming festival. “The locals have a great time and the Pain Games are fun to watch, but I gotta do my bodyguard thing. Don’t even get to play.” He pouted, looking more like a grumpy impling than an adult. “Loonie’s coming for extra security. Dina’s never seen it so she’s tagging along for fun.”

Barbie made a noncommittal sound, mostly acknowledging she’d heard. She sipped her iced coffee, the rattling sound from the straw saying it was now more ice and coffee. She shouldn’t be upset. What was there to be mad about? Besides her coffee running out. There, that was it. She was annoyed about missing a free coffee after therapy. Her tossed cup landed in a trash bin; at least her aim hadn’t suffered from all the abuse she’d put her body through.

Blitzø, also finishing his drink, dumped the ice in his mouth. Gotta get all the chocolate he could from it. His cup followed Barb’s, hitting the rim before falling in. Crunching on his ice cubes, he saw Barb cross her arms and stiffen up. He’d seen her chomp on ice too, so he didn’t think that upset her. “‘Ey,” he said around a mouthful of coffee flavored ice, “‘ou w’nna come wif?”

“Huh? Swallow Blitzø, can’t fucking understand ice mouth dude.”

He crunched and swallowed some, giving himself brain freeze. “You wanna come with?” he repeated once it passed. “You’ve been doing great with rehab, maybe your therapist will clear you for the day?”

Barb blushed a little. Nope, she wasn’t embarrassed that he picked up on her feeling left out. Because she didn’t feel left out! “Well, how else am I gonna get my free coffee?” She huffed, deliberately loosening her shoulders and uncrossing her arms. “Which day is it?”

After giving her all the information, Blitzø realized there was something he needed to mention before she saw him in a public setting with Stolas. “Uh, one thing real quick. I gotta play the whole master/servant bullshit. For appearances and crap.” He rubbed his neck, his discomfort radiating off of him. “And that means I gotta have this.” He brushed his other hand against his forehead where the All Imp Circus mark was.

But when his hand moved away, there was a solid white heart in its place. It was topped by a crown with elegant scrolling lines on either side. Barb felt a flash of rage at the sight. You asshole, you covered up our mark?! Then she saw Blitzø’s expression underneath the changed brand. Hurt, shame, and fear. He couldn’t make eye contact with her. Her twin took a shaky breath and passed his hand over the mark again. It was back to a stylized skull heart.

But his expression didn’t change. “It’s… it’s part of the binding,” he said, voice thick with emotion. Fuck this hurt more than the brain freeze. “I learned enough magick to illusion it back, for when I’m solo. But anything in public with Stolas… yeah.” His voice trailed away.

Something else for her to process. “Well, thanks for the gut punch. Least you didn’t spring it on me at the festival.” Barb’s tail cracked in annoyance as she walked. The tip poked him in the side. “C’mon, I’m hungry and I wanna get back before the cafeteria closes. If you beat me there I’ll let you tell me more over dinner.” She picked up the pace, Blitzø slack jawed behind her.

“Fuck you Barb, you know the way better than I do!” He ran to catch up. He didn’t beat her to the dorm but they still had dinner together. They chatted about less heavy subjects and Barb agreed to the festival, pending therapist approval.

—————

A week later, Barb was waiting at the elevator concourse, not quite patiently. Either Blitzø or one of the girls were supposed to meet her at the Sloth terminal and head to Wrath. Normally, Barb was dressed in some sort of tight miniskirt dress with tall boots. She’d swapped that for denim shorts, sensible shoes, a crop top, and a checkered button up tied under her breasts. No point in her good heeled boots getting stuck in mud or worse at Wrath’s farms.

Loona hopped out of an elevator for foot traffic. Like Barb, she wasn’t wearing her usual goth outfit. Unlike Barb, she was dressed in a dark jacket, slacks, and wore a set of dark shades. “What’re you supposed to be, Men In Black?” the imp scoffed.

The Hound plucked at the jacket. “I know right? Blitzø wants my help with security and this is his idea of a bodyguard outfit. But fuck all happens at this thing. This is the third one I’ve been to and it’s soooo dull.” The two got in line for ascending foot traffic. “By the way, if you and Blitzø are cool now, should we call you Aunt Barb?”

“Fuck no! Makes me sound like an old lady, one that sits around knitting and shit. Just Barb, got it?” The imp glared up at the Hellhound. “And I still don’t know if I’m ‘cool’ with the jerk.’

Loona shrugged and pursed her lips as they boarded. “I mean, you accepted his invite? Been talking after every group?”

“I wanted a change from all that Sloth-pink. And he gets me free coffee.” Loona smirked and let the matter slide, for now. They complained idly together as the elevator steadily rose. Once at the Wrath level, they exited to see a throng of imps outside the terminal, gathering for the festival. “Dad and the rest are waiting at the main tent. You wanna see them first or check things out around here?”

Barb squinted at the harsh orange light. After years of Sloth’s dreamlike hues, her retinas felt like they were burning. “Might as well let Blitzø know I’m here.” They pushed through the crowd; the festival stage and tent were easy to spot amidst the countrified buildings. “Waiaminnit, isn’t that royal here too?”

“Oh shit! Yeah, Stolas, Dad’s with him.” Loona halted a few yards away from the tent. “You gonna be okay? I can let Blitzo know you’re here if you don’t wanna deal with Stolas.”

Barb glared at the fancy tent walls. “Fuck it, I’m here. Let’s rip off this freaking bandaid.”

Living in the circus gave her a flair for drama. She whipped open the tent flap and announced, “Barbie Wire’s here, bitches.” The small group inside all looked at her blankly before her twin walked up.

“Barb! You made it!” Blitzø had a similar outfit to Loona, black jacket and slacks, with dark shades. “Everyone, this is my twin sister Barbie Wire. Barb, you know Loonie and Dina. That’s Millie and next to her is Moxxie; they’re my employees. And this -oh shit.” Blitzø stumbled over his words as he’d just been about to introduce his twin to his master. Barb crossed her arms, suspicion rising over Blitzø’s hesitancy.

“Allow me, Blitzy, darling.” Blitzy? Darling? The Goetia rose gracefully from his ornate chair. His hair feathers almost brushed the tent canopy as he stalked over. Then he bowed deeply, putting his face at eye level to the twins. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Barb. I am Prince Stolas of Ars Goetia.” His deep pupil-less eyes looked sincerely pained as he continued in a voice only the imp twins could hear. “Although it may not mean much at this late day, I deeply apologize for the pain my father put you and yours through.”

Barb shifted uncomfortably. “Just Barb, none of that ‘Miss’ crap. And uh…yeah…” From Blitzø’s side of things, Stolas was as much a victim as he had been in the whole debacle. But she hadn’t been prepared to deal with all that right this second.

“Not the right time Floof,” her twin muttered at the royal. Floof? They have pet names for each other? Stolas gave a surprised hoot. “Right, we can discuss this later if need be. Today is a festival after all. Why don’t you all take a look around before the official event’s start?” Stolas shooed all the smaller demons out into the Wrathian heat. “You too Blitzy, have a bit of fun.” Barb noticed Blitzø’s grimace as the flicker of light shone under his collar.

“You sure you’ll be alright on your own? You remember what happened the second year you hosted,” Blitzø protested as the owl demon continued to usher the group out.

Stolas laughed. “Yes of course I remember darling. You did an excellent job dispatching those assassins and their leader is still making a splendid horse hitch at the edge of town. Ah ah ah!” He shook a long finger at the imp as Blitzø tried to interject. “I promise I shan’t move from this pavilion until you return and any attackers will find themselves encased in stone. I’m sure someone could use a fence post around here.” With that he pushed his lover outside and closed the tent flap with as much drama as Barb opened it.

“Bad idea to piss off royalty boss,” Moxxie called out. “Better do what the prince says.”

“Oh go fuck yourself Mox.”

—————

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babyspacebatclone · 5 months

Text

This is in regard to this post, and became a monster so I’m putting it in a new post to save the other thread’s op.

Yes, I will agree with part of this version of your post:

There is no reason Catra should have remained as static as she did throughout canon; other media has provided excellent templates on how it could have been achieved.

But I am going to fiercely argue against the mentality fueling your reasons why.

This rant got long, so there’s going to be a cut.

It’s also stream of consciousness, so please bear with me.

@1023sstuff or anyone else willing to ask for clarifications of points, please do.

I’m not going to hold a single person responsible for Season 5 making air in the state it did, because television is never made in a vacuum by one single individual.

But here’s someone I’d put more blame about SPoP reaching air in the state it did instead of Nate.

(we’re talking single digits of percentage, but it’s still more)

Chuck Austen was co-showrunner on SPoP from season 2 onwards, according to Wikipedia.

He was in his late 50s when he started work on SPoP for season 2, and had two other notable television projects under his belt at that time, including being one of the producers for Season 1 of Steven Universe.

Nate, on the other hand, was not prepared for being a showrunner.

Having read his Memoir “The Fire Never Goes Out” makes that abundantly clear, with the tiny hints he let himself be honest about.

And the lack of honesty was, in my interpretation, entirely fueled by his feelings of guilt and imposter syndrome, feeling obligated to fulfill the giant dreams of catching lightning in a bottle that had been placed on him, from a job offer that I’m sure everyone was telling him he was insane to reject.

I fully expect Dreamworks didn’t want Nate to make the next Steven Universe, by the way.

I think they wanted him to make the next My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.

Nate was not prepared for that.

Let alone at that time of his own self-healing and understanding.

Remember: this is before he transitioned, and if I was reading the timeline of the memoir correctly he didn’t get his bipolar disorder diagnosis until part way through SPoP.

Nate, by all evidence I have, was not in a position to make a healthy depiction of recovery from abuse.

Because he, himself, was still learning what recovery meant for him.

This is not to say I 100% blindly believe Catra’s “on a silver platter, undergo extreme trauma get redemption for free” arc wasn’t wish fulfillment for Nate.

Because I don’t know him.

But I also wouldn’t be surprised if people who do know him do believe that.

Nevertheless…

That’s the story of one person, swimming in trauma, and that last part I can say with full confidence.

That explains some of Catra’s arc, and a fair bit of the snowball that came afterwards.

But that does not explain Season 5 making it to air.

Someone.

Should.

Have stopped this.

Someone should have supported Nate, helping ease the burden of being showrunner.

I don’t know if no one did, although Chuck Austen coming on board strongly suggests people at Dreamworks did try.

I do not know how much Chuck knew of Nate’s fears regarding the show (which I am extrapolating here, and I could be wrong), let alone how much he did do to help Nate.

I am not blaming Chuck for not helping Nate in a manner I want, because I don’t know what went on and besides Chuck isn’t a therapist and doesn’t deserve to be put in that position.

I strongly, strongly suspect people with money wanted to ride the Catra train for clout, and their dollars won over the dollars of people who didn’t want a huge lesbian romance in a cartoon on their resume.

And I suspect those people, fueled by past successes such as Avatar and Steven Universe and MLP: FiM pushed for Nate to be able to achieve his vision.

And people who knew better should have stopped that.

And it didn’t happen.

And I don’t know who to blame, because I was not there.

I don’t even blame Chuck, I repeat in all honesty, because I can’t see how a guy of his background could have made a difference.

But I’d still place the showrunner with 25+ more years of life experience and any experience in creating television as more (single digits of percentage) responsible for Season 5 making it to air in the state it was than the under 30 year old uncloseted trans man who was mere years into treatment for bipolar disorder.

I want a world where someone other than Nate was responsible for crafting the timeline and events of Catra’s redemption arc.

But I do not fucking blame Nate for us living in this one as though it was his intention all along.

Now, if Nate still thinks Season 5 was acceptable in 2040 as a 50 year old, then I’ll had different opinions.

#television production #executive producers #show runners #cartoon production #trauma #bipolar disorder

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saturdaynightghostclub · 10 months

Text

Highway Hypnosis

Chapter 9: Cicely

I met an old woman in a movie theater queue in Chicago right after I graduated college. She was there alone, like me, trying in vain to make her day mean something. I noticed her immediately; in a sea of denim and cotton, she was in a sundress and sandals, the kind you wear to wade through a river when you’re hiking. She noticed me too, though I’m not sure what it was that stood out about me. She asked me where I was from; for some reason I didn’t strike her as a local. I leaned into it, just for a secret to keep, and told her I was from Seattle. And what a coincidence, she was too. “In my past life,” she explained, “I was a mermaid. It kills me to be out here with no water.” I reminded her of Lake Michigan, and she just shook her head. It wasn’t the same.

That woman stuck with me. Maybe I was projecting onto her, but I swore from that moment that I could feel her living deep inside the throes of my body, with her fist curled around my spine, dictating my every move with a benevolence I resented. I grew restless, too big for my mother’s home and entirely too small for whatever lay beyond its front door. There was an inevitability to the woman’s words; she and I would make it back home. Maybe we’d go somewhere and be mermaids together, just jump into the freezing northern waters and reject the world that had brought us up.

As I emerge from the Evergreen river’s icy current, I wonder if this counts. Is it that you can’t be a mermaid in freshwater, or is it more a matter of affinity? Regardless of how the movie theater woman would answer, I think she’d be proud of me. For some reason her hypothetical opinion of me matters more than I’d like to admit.

Jasper’s sitting on a large rock on the river bank, letting the late afternoon sun evaporate whatever cold water is left on his skin in transcendent drops of gold. He spent the night at my place last night, high on life after cracking the library code mystery. There have been remarkably few times throughout my life when I’ve been completely, genuinely at a loss for words, but waking up in his arms this morning was one of them. His face is turned toward the sky, and then suddenly it isn’t. I swim leisurely toward him as his gaze focuses on something on the beach towel to his right—my cell phone, I realize, which must mean it’s ringing. By the time I reach him and haul myself up onto the rock beside him, it’s almost too late. I don’t bother with the caller ID in my hurry to pick up the call, and the regret that washes over me immediately after the damn thing goes live is palpable.

“There you are! Thank goodness, Andie, do you know how many times I’ve tried to call you?”

“Mom? What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” My mother asks, incredulous, as if I should already know. “I have called you eight times, Andrea. Eight! And you haven’t picked up once. Care to explain?”

I don’t, but I’ll try. “Service is spotty up here, I honestly didn’t realize you’d even tried calling,” I say, followed by a weak “sorry, Mom.” I realize I’ve unconsciously pulled my knees to my chest, a position I often assume when talking to my mother. A therapist I once saw said it was part of a fawn response, which I suppose is understandable aside from the fact that it happens even during the most benign conversations.

“I don’t want your excuses, it’s not why I called,” she snaps. I figure it would be better to just let her talk, as anything I have to say past this point will be under the lens of her scrutiny, so I wait for her to continue. “I’m coming up to visit,” she says, “on the first of September. I’m staying four days, and I’ll need a ride to and from the airport.”

“Okay,” I say, cautiously, “will you send me your flight details in a text so I know what time to come get you?”

“They’re in your inbox already,” she replies, sounding exasperated. Once again, I guess I should have read her mind. Silly me. I inhale, sitting up straighter as Jasper slides an arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest on my hip. I’m not sure if he can hear anything more than my side of the conversation, but he seems attuned to my stress regardless. I cover his hand lightly with my own, resisting my body’s urge to move closer to him.

“Okay, I mean—,” I start. I can’t exactly tell her not to come; I can’t even lament that she didn’t warn me further ahead of time as, per her own testimony, she tried. “—Okay. I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so eager, it’s only your mother,” she replies sharply.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I sigh, “I’ll see you in a week. Can’t wait.” She hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. Manners only matter when it’s mine that are lacking. I set the phone down, staring straight ahead for a moment as I close my hand around Jasper’s, lacing my fingers through his.

“Your mom?” He asks after a beat, in his soft way which, infuriatingly, makes me want to simultaneously tell him my deepest secrets and break down sobbing in his arms. How on Earth does he do that?

“Mhmm,” I hum, deciding on a dime to keep the conversation light, “she’s coming up in a week. She didn’t tell me why.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work,” Jasper says, leaning in to kiss my temple before I finally look at him.

“Yeah,” I nod, “you could say that.”

I don’t know if it’s residual teenage rebellion or the fact that I know inherently that my mother will hate him or what, but in this moment, looking at Jasper, I’m hit by a wave of Something that knocks the breath out of me completely. He is truly, completely perfect.

It occurs to me that I’ve been staring at him a moment too long when, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, he says “What?”

I kiss him, and his small noise of surprise is submerged in a current of that sweet, slow darkness that envelops me whenever we’re together.

Jasper and I, in a rare moment of extraverted unison, have agreed to spend the evening with Joshy and Janie at her apartment above the cafe. It was Janie’s idea—she said it would be fun to have “couple friends,” but I get the distinct feeling she’s just curious about what exactly a relationship with the infamous Moss might look like—and, while she vaguely mentioned card games, I know for a fact she’s made no plans beyond sitting around on the floor and passing a bottle of gin back and forth. It’s a refreshingly low-stakes concept; in Chicago, if I wanted to socialize with anyone I needed to go to at least three bars and one late-night taco truck before we settled down for the night. I don’t think I’ve done the old “split a bottle of gin” routine since senior prom.

For some reason I expected Jasper to be nervous about the outing, but he’s not. He’s actually anything but. He even snagged some snacks from the general store on our way to Janie’s because “you can’t show up empty-handed, who raised you?”

The door to the apartment is unlocked, and upon opening it I’m met with an almost-tangible wave of sound. Music, laughter, pots and pans banging around in the kitchen.

“Hello?” I call, “We’re here.”

“Coming!” Janie responds, shortly before rounding the corner with two cocktail glasses hanging from her right hand. “Nice tat, Andie,” she grins devilishly, and after a moment of confusion my hand flies to my neck. I spin to look at Jasper, swatting him with the back of my hand.

“Oh my god, did you give me a hickey?” I hiss, a spark of satisfaction overcoming my embarrassment as his face flushes red.

“Sorry, sorry—ow, Jesus!” He mumbles, stifling laughter and backing away from my attacks until his legs hit the arm of Janie’s couch. “Okay, okay!” He says, finally allowing himself to laugh fully. “Okay, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.” He’s holding out his pinky finger and, with a raised eyebrow, I link mine through it. As long as he swears.

Janie has disappeared back into the kitchen, replaced by Joshy, who’s apparently been banished for burning the popcorn. “Boys,” I say in lieu of a goodbye, sweeping into the kitchen to let them entertain themselves while I endure Janie’s inevitable bout of relentless teasing.

“I cannot believe he did that,” I mutter softly, coming to stand beside her, “I’m going to kill him. You know my mother’s coming to town in a week? Kill him for me, Janie.”

She laughs. “Spoons are in the drawer closest to the fridge,” she says. I understand her meaning; anyone who’s been the unfortunate victim of a hickey is familiar with the cold spoon trick. I search the drawer for the biggest metal spoon I can find before submerging it in a glass of ice water. Janie’s stirring a jar of something gorgeous and purple. She turns to me and says, “Honestly, I’m impressed. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s given me a hickey since high school. What’s that?”

“Gin, I infused it with this blue tea stuff. It’s supposed to be good, we’ll see. So, have you…?” She asks casually.

“Yep,” I reply, trying to match her tone so she doesn’t shriek in response. It’s no use.

“Yes!” She squeaks, “How was it? Was it good?”

I feel myself flush and press the cold spoon into my neck in the vain hope that it’ll bring me back to a normal temperature. “Janie, I don’t even have the words to describe how good it was.”

“Really? Oh my god, Andie! Tell me everything, I can’t believe you didn’t text me immediately,” she says, bringing her tone back down to a whisper-shout that’s no less suspicious than her high-pitched shriek.

“It literally happened last night!” I whisper-shout in response, unable to keep the grin from my face.

“No excuse!”

“Fine, fine! ‘Kay, so first of all, he has a tattoo above his knee—,”

“Ladies?” Joshy asks from the doorway, eyebrow quirked in an amused expression. Shit.

“Coming!” Janie answers brightly, shooting me a look that says plainly “we’ll talk about it later.” I almost wish it was just the two of us tonight, just Janie and I. There’s nothing like a debrief between girls, between friends; I knew I missed having non-men around, but now that I know I have at least one to count on, it's like forbidden fruit. I don’t want to hang out with the boys, I want to dish with my friends. I make a promise to myself, then: I’ll call my college friends tomorrow. I’ll tell them everything. I won’t let go of my adolescence just yet.

#highway hypnosis #writers on tumblr #this chapter brought to you by the time-honored ritual of the Girly Debrief #and the butterfly gin i made for my best friend’s birthday #it’s delicious y’all #Spotify

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crypticspacecat · 2 years

Text

Prisoner Chapter III (Yan!Dr.KujoxBlack!Femreader)

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter IV

First things first, I want to apologize for the long wait. Besides working on my tarot business, I wasn't anticipating my autoimmune disorder choosing violence but got some medicine to calm it down.

This chapter is a bit slow but when chapter 4 comes out, you'll understand why. Enjoy!

(I'm ngl, I wasn't too pleased with this chapter but I'll try to write more often to freshen up my skills)

6:15 am

You’re awakened by the sound of an opening door and various machines. You slowly open your eyes to multicolored lights almost blinding you.

“Hi Ms. (L/N), just taking your vitals.” The nurse whispered. Must be one of the floor nurses, she didn’t sound like Lynn. You feel the coldness of the blood pressure cuff and the rubber texture of the heart monitor on your index finger. The dream keeps you distracted from the tightness of the cuff.

‘It felt so real, but it couldn't possibly be real.' You think to yourself. Your line of thinking is interrupted by the sound of Velcro. Much to your surprise, the nurse was already done. You almost question how long you were lost in thought. The nurse leaves quietly, leaving you alone.

“It was just a dream…” You repeated to yourself in fearful whispers. The darkness envelopes your room as the sun has yet to rise.

“My angel…”

You shiver in excruciating discomfort, still feeling the strange man’s hands all over you. You slowly close your eyes, trying to imagine being near the ocean, being relaxed by the sound of the waves. With your imagination working in your favor, you fall asleep within minutes.

“(Y/N), I have your breakfast." A voice whispers to you. You open your heavy eyes to see nurse Lynn with a tray full of food. Bacon, eggs, a fruit cup, and a small cup of orange juice. The sun shines gently on your face, not blinding your sensitive eyes.

“Since you’re a newly admitted patient, you have to stay in your room for the first 24 hours. I also called your friend and she should be dropping off your clothes and hygiene items sometime today. It may take some time to receive them as we do have to do a security check.” She explains as she hands you the tray.

“Thank you, Ms. Lynn.”

“You’re very welcome! There are a couple of rooms for patients to gather for group and recreational activities. On the third floor, there is always going to be a staff member present at all times in the group rooms for security reasons. You should be seeing a therapist one-on-one today and Dr. Kujo later on.” She further explains before being summoned by another staff member. You start eating your eggs, noting how decent it was for hospital food.

You finished your meal, still feeling exhausted from yesterday. You hope to visit those rooms nurse Lynn mentioned, but for now, you just want to rest your eyes.

“Ms. (L/N)." You hear someone say, jolting you out of your rest. You open your eyes to see an older man with thick-rimmed glasses. He pulls out his pen from his shirt pocket as you steadily rise from your bed to face him.

“I’m Dr. Ngyuen. I’m one of the therapists here. I wanted to ask you a few questions for Dr. Kujo.” Dr. Ngyuen explains, pulling a chair from the hallway. You nod in understanding, not really looking forward to answering these mundane questions.

“Are you currently suicidal or have any thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”

“No.”

"Rate your mood on a scale of 1 to 10."

“5”

“Why a 5?”

“Because I don’t want to be here.”

“I understand that, but this is for your own safety.” He retorts, peering into your expressionless face. You internally sigh, wanting to get this over with.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because I started self-harming again.”

“Exactly. A lot of people don’t really think about how self-harm can lead you down a dangerous spiral. I know this is inconvenient for you as you have school and work, but this is for your safety. Especially considering your medical history.” He explains. You frown in frustration, trying to accept the situation for what it is.

“So what will my treatment consist of?” You ask, aching for this therapist to just leave already.

“That will be between you and Dr. Kujo. Right now, I’m just asking basic questions since you just got here.” He answers. You nod in understanding, wondering what the Doctor has planned for you.

The therapist soon leaves, allowing you to lie down and clear your mind. You stare at the ceiling, pretending you’re out in nature. The soft grass serves as your cushion as you gaze at the beautiful blue sky. There isn't a cloud in sight, and the gentle winds kiss your cheeks. The blue jays' melodies put your mind at ease, allowing you to surrender wholly to relaxation. You feel your eyes get heavy, but you don’t fight it. Slowly, you’re eased into slumber, drained of all the anxiety from before. You’re suddenly awakened by a nurse, catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry for waking you (Y/N), but you have to get your blood drawn. We have to check for any vitamin deficiencies and also your hormone levels and cholesterol levels." She says as you slowly rise from your bed. You follow the nurse out of your room to one of the locked rooms in the common area of the floor.

You walk into a white, sterile room. The other nurse is already present, prepping the needles and further cleaning the work area. You sit on the closest chair to the woman’s desk, internally dreading being stuck multiple times with a large ass needle.

#jjba x black reader #blackyn #x black fem reader #anime x black!reader #yandere jjba #yandere jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jjba x reader #tw mental health

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