#I’m tired of being a constant fuckup
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#I’m tired of being a constant fuckup#I wasn’t meant to have friends apparently since all I do is upset them and push them away and say stupid shit that hurts them#and it’s times like this I feel like it’d be better if I just weren’t here#like if I were dead I mean#sometimes I wish I’d killed myself at 16 if only to save myself from the idiot I’d become#and I hurt my closest friend again and I don’t know why I can’t keep my mouth shut and I keep spiraling#I don’t know why I’m stuck in this limbo and I don’t know how to get out of it#but it’s my own problem I guess and I’ll have to figure it out for myself#I’m not even catholic but I feel like I need to go to confession or something#I feel like I need to just pour all this bullshit out onto someone who doesn’t know me and I don’t know#just purge all this shit and get outside advice and move on#but I can’t find a way to do that so I’m just stuck in the same position I was in before#and I feel like at some point he will just get tired of me and leave#which will absolutely wreck me#but if it’s what’s best for him and makes him happier then how could I want to stop him#I don’t want to be selfish or keep him here solely to keep up our friendship#I’m a secret without the benefits of that secrecy and it’s coming back to haunt me#I just need to swallow my tongue so I never say anything stupid again#or maybe just get a lobotomy#personal
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i love you but i’ve chosen darkness, pt. 1.
dialogue prompts from i love you but i’ve chosen darkness by claire vaye watkins.
that’s kind of evasive.
didn’t we do everything right, and in the right order?
can either of us say we’re thriving?
there are certain area codes i categorically avoid.
funny how some people feel like home.
i can’t play nice and i don’t want to.
i’ve never seen so much blood.
it’s true, i’ve got no friends.
i know a thing or two about bad men.
i’ll be a friend to you.
you’re too young to be a hippie.
i want you to know how much i love you.
i want you to know who i was.
all i want is for us to be a normal family.
you won’t see it all if you don’t trespass a little.
by the time you got someone’s attention, you were already screaming.
you can never have too many death certificates on hand.
run and don’t stop, even if you get scared.
i always believed you when you said you were sorry.
jesus pizza.
have you been crying?
i eat mushrooms for spiritual exploration, not for fun.
the universe is tired of waiting for you to get the message.
you’re not a fraud, just a slacker. and a bit of a coward.
my therapist said i’m ‘searingly brave’.
i can’t find a trace of me in this house.
i’m sympathizing, or trying to.
at yoga they say the only constant is change.
you say you don’t love me anymore, but i don’t believe you.
i think it’s cool you’re following your heart, or whatever.
art is just practice for being alive.
i’m not comforted by being normal.
happiness is a scam. i know that.
i always do something stupid when i’m feeling righteous.
can you tell me about the future?
is the future really as bad as you say?
focus on your found family and forget about your real family.
i’ve got a really good chance at a wonderful life.
there’s nothing wrong with not knowing who you are.
i know happiness is a scam, but unhappiness is real.
you’re supposed to get rid of everything that doesn’t spark joy.
i don’t feel anything. i’m just floating.
you’re turning out to be a dirtbag.
you are not a fuckup.
i’ve never felt so professional.
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Hey TT! Wishing well to you and yours! I just wanted to drop an appreciation note for you.
I'm the kind of person who can't watch things without engaging, and tellywood is the kinda guilty pleasure I can't really share with my friends because woh sab exclusively intelligent, highbrow, foreign cinema hi dekhte hain, which is fun, but I often need a break from that kinda content for my stressbusting. So when I watch lighter rom-com type stuff, or desi content, I tend to turn online for the social aspect of it all. But hey bhagwan, I've been in problematic fandoms before but ITV ka toh next hi level hai. Khoon jal jaata hai, in this cesspool of toxicity and misogyny. I am old enough to remember when IF used to be the main fandom space, and it used to piss me off and turn me off of entire shows. And aaj, IF has become the saner of the spaces looking at the asinine stuff on Twitter and Instagram...
Often, I'm not put off by the acts of the characters themselves- to make stories progress, occasional fuckups can be accepted in fiction. I don't love it, but I'm okay acknowledging it's problematic (and often criminal irl) and moving on from it. Asli gussa toh response dekh kar aata hai, which more often than not defends harassment, character assassination, and abuse of the FL by the ML just because he is 'in pain' or 'misunderstood' or has a 'heart of gold' or the FL is doing something mildly inconvenient which made her deserving of the disproportionate retribution. And this support comes from a demographic that's predominantly young girls- toh gusse ke saath saath fikar bhi ho jaati hai. Mission stressbusting: failed. Sometimes, reading all that makes me majorly second guess my own emotions, but then I see 'feminist' thrown about as an abuse and I remember that fandoms suck.
And then I found your blog a few years ago! And it's been jannat for my tellywood watching experience ever since. I love the fact that you watch and enjoy this content with us, while not shying away from your feminism, and calling out even characters you like for crossing lines, irrespective of their gender (but lbr, men cross way more lines in these shows). I so appreciate the balance you maintain here, and honestly this blog has become my one stop shop for desi content, be it for recommendations or discussions or opinions. Ab toh wohi dekhti hoon jo aap recommend kar dein, warna yeh saara space kaafi intimidating hai. One day, I shall find the mental fortitude to seal myself off from all non-Tumblr online fandoms and save myself the BP issues that come with it, tab tak ke liye thanks for being an oasis of rationality in this madness.
Love always ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Dearest lovely anon,
Thank you so so much for this wonderful message. So much of it resonated with me, and is why I created this blog in the first place. I too have IRL friends who don’t watch Tellywood and I just needed to get all these opinions outta me; but I was also so tired of the IF model where there’s too many people talking at once, but not having the conversations I wanted, and Twitter toh was never my forte coz brevity really isn’t my thing....... When I made the blog I wasn’t expecting it to turn into what it ultimately has, coz I felt so alone in the fandom, that no one was as obsessed the way I was (definitely waaaaaay more than the average watcher, but less than the online Tellywood fandom), but also enraged and angrily critical at the constant chutiyaapa that was even in my very favourite shows. Yes I really hate the misogyny and toxicity on the ML/families parts, but I also really hate the mostly one-dimensional way Tellywood FLs are written, with almost negligible complexity to them. So I just made this a space for me to go on my rambles (whether positive or negative) and to my surprise and delight, people responded to it. So as always, I guess this is just a hugeass thanks from me to everyone who likes and comments and sends asks, coz y’all really keep me wanting to keep on doing this. 🤗🤗🤗🥰🥰🥰✨✨✨
PS - I’m sure that there’s good stuff out there that I’m not watching (coz I’m me - a lazy POS who has to be in a VERY specific mood to watch something) so do consider checking out the recs my followers send in as well. Just coz I’m willfully missing out on quality content rn coz of my dheentness doesn’t mean it won’t be up your alley either! 😘😘😘
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Zion huffed as he rolled over out of bed, getting ready to start his day. Without even a kiss or a 'goodbye' he made his exit from your shared home out into the world for his daily adventures.
"Lexi I'm pregnant" you whispered to your friend over FaceTime on your MacBook.
"What?!"
"I went to the doctors yesterday and got the results. I don't even know what to do"
"What did Zion say?"
"He doesn't know"
"You have to tell him. This is huge! Omg I'm so excited to be an auntie"
With an hours worth of convincing your best friend Alexis had you anticipating Zion's arrival to let him know the big news.
You had gotten up to do your daily morning routines. Before showering you pried the now squeezing wedding ring from your left ring finger that'll always remind you of the vows you and Zion stated in front of family and friends two years ago.
You settled for a bowl of cereal and Netflix for breakfast, eventually falling asleep with the time passing.
Between then and now Zion had made his way back home. Stopping in the bathroom to pee he noticed your ring on the sink. 'How careless of you? It could've fallen down the drain' he thought to himself.'
You woke up to Zion rambling at the door of the bed. Yawning and stretching yourself back to reality you soon realized what the fuss was all about when your eyes landed on the ring in his hand.
"Why the hell would you take it off? You know what I don't really care" he scoffed, dropping it on the tv stand.
"If you don't care why'd you ask?"
"What's your problem lately?"
"Me? Zion you pick fights with me over little shit. Yesterday I was too exhausted to make dinner so I was gonna order our food and you got all pissy"
"Ok that's one thing. (Y/N) you've been secretive lately. I feel like it's something you're keeping from me?"
"Mind your business"
"Your business became mine when you said I do"
"Sometimes I wish I hadn't said it" you chuckled bitterly, going for your car keys and cellphone.
"Where are you going? Stop running everytime shit gets bad"
You paid him no mind knowing that if you'd stay you'd say some things you'd regret.
Zion plopped down on the bed, trying to collect his thoughts on maybe why you'd taken the ring off. Your anniversary was coming up in less than a month but here you were arguing about a piece of jewelry.
The ringing of your MacBook caught him off guard before opening it to your best friend Alexis on the other side of the screen.
"Oh hey Zion"
"Hey Lexi"
"Where's (y/n)?"
"I don't know" he shrugged. "She left after we got into an argument but it's her fault"
"Fuck you mean you don't know? Stop acting like you don't care before it's too late"
"If she doesn't care why should I?"
"Zion stop treating my bestie like shit .. She's fucking pregnant and stressing her isn't helping. I swear if you don't find her tonight I'll—"
"(Y/N)'s pregnant?", his heart fell to his ass repeating that to himself. Never thought the day would come that he'd be saying he's a dad or even have a wife. Before meeting you the whole concept of marriage was overrated in his mind. In no way did you try to change his opinion but see how much he loves you he wanted to give you that fairytale ending you'd always dreamed of.
"Yes she's pregnant and you didn't hear this from me. I'm serious"
"Who else knows?"
"I think only me. Well you now too. Act surprised when she tells you!"
He shut the laptop, heading out to his car to find you. Luckily for him you had shared your location last night and forgot to turn it off. The current pin showed you were at a hotel just a few miles down the road.
"Did you see a woman about this tall, hair this long, cute face? I-I'm just trying to find my wife" he stammered over his word to the concierge.
"Cute face, huh? Seen one of those check into room 334"
He nodded, taking the elevator up to the third floor. "Open up baby I'm so sorry. It's me, Zion"
"I leave home to get away from you and follow me? How much more toxic could you get?" You rolled your eyes, walking away from the now opened door.
"Baby, you right and I know it. When you left I just had to step back for a moment for analyze myself as your husband. I haven't been treating as I should've. My mind has been racing lately and I just need you to hold me and all of my broken fuckups until I can get it right"
Hearing you were right for once was like a breath of fresh air. It was usual of Zion to smother you in 'I told you so's after proving his point.
"I'm so sorry how I've been treating you. I'm just stressed from the constant work schedule. I was so wrong for taking that out on you baby"
You plopped down on the king size bed trying not to burst into tears. Everything from the simplest apology, your news, the recent fights all have been building up into this moment.
"you mean the world to me— when I seen your ring on the sink I thought you took it off because you were done with me or something so I snapped"
"Next time talk to me instead of accusing me" you said hastily, "Zion it's been fight after fight and I'm tired"
Truth be told the new pregnancy has been making you sleep heavier, draining your energy, even had you gaining weight and it's only been 8 weeks. The ring feels way tighter than before so the thought of putting it on a necklace until you dropped the weight became a priority in your head.
You reached for the mini bottle of red wine provided by room service, “How did you find me?"
"Are you about to drink that?" His voice shook as he took closer steps to you.
Everyone knew you and Zion to be that lit couple that always sparked a little something or drank a little more than the rest so to see him question you about a $6 travel size bottle of red wine flicked a switch in your mind.
There's no way he couldn't not know of the pregnancy by now. Why else would he worry if you consume liquor that was only gonna get you a little buzzed?
"You know ?.." you whispered, putting the bottle back on the nightstand in its original ice bucket. "Lexi told you. I wanted to tell you myself"
"Don't be mad at her baby. You left your laptop and she kept calling so I answered it and she cursed me out and then it accidentally slipped out"
"Well" you shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Zion to prepare yourself for the worst. "Zion I'm sorry. You have a lot going on and we’re not in the best spot and now this"
As a wife your main focus was being his peace. When he felt sad or stressed you wanted to be the first person he came to. Thinking the pregnancy was just added stress you decided to keep it from him until you made up your mind.
"Hey hey hey don't be sorry" he reached out cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear rolling down. "We're gonna have a beautiful baby that we're gonna love so much and you're gonna be the best mommy"
"You wanna keep it?", Zion never struck you, or anyone else for that matter, as a person that cared for kids. Of course you'd always wanted a family but you were willing to wait for him.
"Of course. I mean it's your decision but—"
"Our decision. That'd be selfish of me to not include your feelings. If a baby is what you want then that's it. We're gonna be parents Z"
Maybe a baby was the missing piece to your relationship.
You extended your arms happily embracing his torso into your face.
"I love you (y/n)"
"I love you too Z"
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after 2342394 years we have a second chapter
***
The bedroom is pitch black when Sirius wakes up. And right from the moment he opens his eyes, he feels like death.
His throat is dry and sore - as if he’s caught a nasty cold or spent the past two days drinking - and his eyes feel heavy and wet. He’s sweaty, there’s a rather painful squeeze to his stomach, and his head is pounding.
None of it comes as a surprise, really. He always feels like shit whenever his body decides to catch up on sleep - it’s funny, almost. When he doesn’t sleep at all - he feels awful. And then when he sleeps for more than absolutely necessary - he ends up just as bad, if not worse. A lose-lose situation, his sleeping habits.
There’s a moment of hesitation before he reluctantly reaches for his phone.
4.52AM
Undoubtedly, the worst part about his body catching up after bad episodes is how it fucks up his mood. The wrecking guilt for waisting 14 goddamn hours is already set heavy in his stomach. He’s wasted the whole evening - and in his current situation, he can’t fucking afford to do that. He could’ve gone shopping - there’s barely any food in the fridge - or done his schoolwork, or even just spend time with his brother.
And God, thinking about Regulus always manages to make Sirius feels even worse.
Cause he’s supposed to be better than the goddamn fuckup he currently is. He should be able to set a good example. But he can’t. Hell, he feels that Regulus is the one taking care of him more often than the other way around.
Sometimes, Sirius wonders whether he should’ve left Reg at Grimmauld. To live a privileged, rich life they were so used to, with cooks and maids and no worry in the world on his head. They’ve always liked Regulus better anyway - it’s Sirius who’s always been the rebel, the improper one, the hated one. The queer one, though that came a bit later (and it’s not like Sirius ever told anyone. That would’ve gotten him thrown out, and he couldn’t let that happen - he needed to leave on his own terms, with Regulus in tow). Maybe they never would’ve hit Regulus? He knows how to behave, after all.
Yet Sirius couldn’t bring himself to chance it. He can’t stomach the thought of his little brother alone in that godforsaken place. Even if Sirius fucks up at being an adult, at least he can assure Regulus grows up loved and without anyone ever raising their hand on him. It’s all he can do for now.
But, while Sirius would love to stay in bed for the rest of the day - or possibly the rest of time - and sink deeper into the pit of despair he’s fallen into, he can’t. Not when he’s got work at 8 and so many things to do before that. The disgusting mood will stay, just like it always does, but Sirius can just lie his way through the mental disarray he’s got going on. He might be a fuck up, but he’s a fuck up responsible for a human being that needs tending to. If it weren’t for Regulus, well… Sirius probably wouldn’t make it as far as today.
So, with a bit of difficulty, he gets up. Right away he gets overwhelmingly dizzy, and his stomach churns with discomfort. He groans in annoyance and sways towards the bathroom. What a way to start the day indeed.
After throwing up (and dry heaving for a bit, because he hasn’t eaten in a good while, so there’s not really much to vomit with), Sirius follows his usual routine of loo-teeth-shower-hair drying. It makes him feel a bit better, at least. He throws the clothes he fell asleep in into the hamper (he needs to do the laundry sometime today, he notes) and trots to his bedroom to look for something to wear.
He checks his phone while squeezing himself into his jeans (not as tight as he’d usually go for - he wants to be able to move comfortably at work) and finds he has several messages.
There’s a few from James - nothing important, either random things he did throughout the day or memes. One from Lily, telling him there’s Chinese in the fridge for when he wakes up and that if he tries to slip her the money for it, she’ll slit his throat (typical, but Sirius will find a way to pay her back anyway).
And then, there’s one that actually makes Sirius smile.
From: Remus
6.21PM
Hope you dream about something nice tonight.
Sirius wished he didn’t remember all the extremely embarrassing things he had said to Remus yesterday - declaring love after knowing the man for five minutes being icing on the cake - but they’re stuck in his memory, ready to taunt him tonight when he inevitably won’t be able to sleep. Though, seeing as Remus did send him a text, maybe not all is lost?
To: Remus
5.20AM
I had the nicest dream. Guess who was in it ;)
There’s no harm in hoping, at least.
****
After getting breakfast (and praising Lily for thoughtfulness, because of course, the fridge is empty), Sirius goes through as many chores as he can before he has to hurry off to work. He puts the laundry on, gets groceries - cringes at the bill extremely, but he can’t just feed his brother instant ramen - and even cleans the kitchen a bit. He puts some toast into the toaster (without the crusts, and leaves a kettle full of freshly boiled water next to a box of green tea) and goes to wake Regulus. It’s not that Sirius necessarily needs to - the kid has a phone with an alarm, after all - but he likes it. It makes him feel more involved; more like an actual responsible brother.
Upon knocking on his door, before even Sirius has a chance to enter, he hears a loud groan; Sirius chuckles at that as he steps inside. While he himself had always been an early riser, Regulus loathes mornings more than anything in the world.
“Rise and shine, Your Majesty,” Sirius says brightly, leaning against the doorway. He smiles as he watches Regulus pull the covers over his head.
“‘eout-”
“No can do, you have a maths test today. Out of bed, sir.”
“Mhmm.”
“If I don’t see you at breakfast in ten minutes, I’m dumping a bucket of cold water right on your head.”
“‘u w’ldn’t. You’d h’ve to clean.”
Sirius laughs, shaking his head slightly. “Ten minutes,” he only says, stepping back and closing the door again.
It’s fifteen minutes until Regulus, sleepy and visibly very grumpy, stomps into the kitchen and sits himself next to Sirius at the kitchen table (Sirius lets him have 20 minutes - if it’s more than that, he always finds he had fallen back asleep).
“I’ll be back from work at 6,” he says, passing a cup of tea to his brother, who takes it without even slight hesitation. “D’you wanna wait for me and have dinner then, or do you want to order in?”
“I’ll be back later too,” Regulus informs him, taking small sips of his tea (he takes his tea ridiculously hot, Sirius had learned, which he simply stopped questioning it after a while). “I have a project to do with a friend. I’ll be at her house.”
“A friend, huh?” Sirius’s mouth raises in a smirk. “And what’s that friend’s name?”
Regulus rolls his eyes and huffs. “Amelia.”
Sirius smiles harder. “And are you and Amelia good friends?”
“Oh stop that.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. ‘m not doing anything.”
“Yes you are!” Regulus says in frustration. “You’re doing the girls thing. She’s not my girlfriend or anything, I don’t like her like that. She’s just a friend.”
Sirius’s gaze softens, and he ends up ruffling Reg’s hair - something he knows Regulus extremely hates.
“I know, I’m just joking around.”
He trusts - and hopes - Regulus would tell him if he started being interested in someone. Both of them aren’t really the type to talk about things like that anyway. Regulus, of course, knows Sirius is gay, but Sirius rarely talks about any boyfriends. Though, that might be cause he doesn’t really do that. Not since they left their parents, anyway.
And it’s not he doesn’t want to; it just never seems like the right time. He’s far too busy with school and then work and then caring for his brother - there’s nowhere to squeeze in dates. And sure, every now and again James and Lily drag him out of the house for the evening, but he never ends up coming home with anybody either; the anxiety about leaving his brother alone for the night is too much. Regulus isn’t a little kid anymore, but Sirius feels he shouldn’t leave him alone for a whole night. Not just yet, at least.
“So when will you be home?” Sirius asks, leaving the table to get his gear on and look for his bike keys (he always manages to loose them, somehow). Thank God for his bike - if it weren't for her, Sirius would be late for work pretty much every day, with how late he leaves the house.
“At 8, maybe?”
“No later than 9, okay? And give me a call if you need me to pick you up.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re grounded if you’re here a second after nine.”
He hears Regulus snort in reply. He walks to the kitchen, ruffles his brother’s hair once again (and earns a very displeased noise in response) and makes his way out the door.
By that time, Sirius’s stomach has settled, and although his head is still throbbing, and he still feels like shit, he’s confident the day at work should pass swiftly. Or so he hopes, at least.
And an hour into the workday, he’s proven wrong.
Working as a mechanic is, obviously, incredibly messy and even more tiring, but today everything seems to go slightly wrong; fussy customers, parts falling onto his feet or hands, accidental burns, and an oil spill all over his trousers. And that’s just little over an hour since he clocked in.
If only he could quit, he would.
Except he has barely any cash in his bank account right now, and it’s not like he has Mummy and Daddy’s fortune to rely on anymore. There’s some savings in his account, but that’s only for emergencies, and it’s not like it’s much. Not enough for rent and utilities, anyway.
Thinking about that always makes Sirius’s stomach clench uncomfortably. He’s so damn tired all the time from constant work, and all his muscles ache at the end of the day, and then there’s always something left to do at home. There’s not really much he can do about that other than to suck it up. It always comes down to Regulus anyway. Sirius isn’t doing it for himself - he wants Reg to have a good life, a happy life, not to be miserable like Sirius had been back in their family home.
He just wants his brother to be happy and healthy, and if that means having to work a few too many hours, then be it.
Sirius’s day passes in a blur of oil spills, clunking of metal, and about four cups of coffee, before he can finally make his way back home and drop onto the couch in exhaustion. The tension in his shoulders aches deeply whenever he moves; the skin on his hands is irritated and red (he really should invest in some moisturizer), and his hair feels uncomfortably dirty even if he's washed it today morning. He could stay on the couch forever.
But of course, life calls. Or more like texts.
And by life, he means James.
From: Prongs 🥰
6.15PM
pub??? now???? come pls?? i miss you :(
Sirius sighs deeply (and probably far too dramatically). He’s exhausted, and sore, and he wouldn’t even be able to drink because Reggie might call him for a ride later. All he wants is to crawl into bed right now, and hope he can sleep for even just a little bit tonight.
But then, he hasn’t seen his friends in what feels like ages and he genuinely misses them. It might be a bad choice, but well... if there’s one thing Sirius is known for, it’s making bad choices. So he agrees.
He quickly cooks dinner, just so there’s something to heat up when Regulus is back, and leaves a post-it note on the counter in case Regulus is home before him. Then, just as he’s about to throw on his jacket again and rush out the door, a thought pops into his mind.
He pulls out his phone, sends a quick texts, and leaves his flat.
To: Remus
6.21PM
any chance you wanna come down to Three Broomsticks for a pint? my treat
#sirius black#regulus black#the marauders#the marauders fanfiction#wolfstar#wolfstar fanfiction#my tag#my writing#it has been.ages. whoops#caffeine for the heartache
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Hello. I just want to say that I'm eager for you to talk about the theory that maybe Ben also lost his connection with the Force after the events of TLJ. :)
Hey! Me too! I’m going to combine this with another ask that I’m putting below the cut because it gets long and ranty lol, but similar theme.
I saw a meltdown from someone who is now saying that "If Rey is weak and can't control the force properly without Kylo, SW and Disney is anti-feminist" and also said "This is probably a vendetta to keep Kylo alive because without him she would be useless. What is the point of making a force-user character like this? She is worthless. She has to rely on a man to gain excess to her power! I bet she'll have to ask permission like a obedient wife." What the actual F? This is not how the force works!
OKAY lol, so here’s the deal. Rant incoming, and not directed at you, Nonnie. Just general tone of rantiness:
Some people are just going to have to come to terms with the fact that Ben and Rey are are their strongest when they work together. Because, guess what? Kylo is having a hard time dealing with this shit too and, as we get more information during the lead up to the movies, I bet you he’s been having a hard time controlling his Force powers as well. As someone pointed out (maybe the following thread? i can’t find the damn comment), Kylo only fixes Hux’s collar after reaching towards him with what looks like a typical, Kylo going to Force choke you power, only for him to reach out and fix his collar instead. Yeah, of course it’s ship bait, but I also think that it’s more than that. I think he’s having the same struggles connecting with the Force as Rey.
The Force is fucking PISSED at these two. Here it brought them together, showed them how great they are as a team and how well they can protect/work together, and then they fucked it all up (because we’re at the midpoint in a three movie series and they had to). SO YEAH. If it’s not working for one, it’s not working for the other. Once they realize that they need to work together, like the Force has been showing them since TFA (hell, it even kept Rey and Kylo separated with the literal planet splitting between them so they couldn’t fight anymore), they will be unstoppable. They are literally each other’s equal in the Force.
“Darkness rises and Light to meet it.” WE KNOW THIS. The movie shows us this!
She’s conflicted and having a hard time centering her thoughts because she’s thinking about Ben and the burdens that are on her shoulders. She’s a GD symbol and that’s got to be hard to deal with without having a thing for the literal Supreme Leader of the galaxy. If she didn’t care about him (and if they didn’t have a fucking Force bond), this wouldn’t be an issue. But it is an issue because she cares about him. A lot! He disappointed her, and she disappointed him (not getting into the who’s right in that scenario because it’s irrelevant. Fact of the matter is, they both feel betrayed). Also, is she keeping that a secret? Who knows that she went to the Supremacy to save him? Aside from maybe Leia? Because that’s a pretty big fucking secret to have on your shoulders too.
She doesn’t need to ask his permission, she needs to understand that the conflict within her is coming as a result of her feelings for him and her own inabilty to reconcilate and accept her own dark side. Just like he needs to come to terms with and accept the light side in him. I really think that we’re going beyond good and evil with this. Might not be gray jedi (I know Pablo hates that term lol), but something new, something that is purely Force. OH and you know who agrees with me?
Luke fucking Skywalker:
“Using the Force is all about finding balance. And some Force users, particularly Force-sensitive children--known by the Jedi as younglings--are able to tap into its energy without an obvious alignment to either side. The Force simply flows through them in its purest form. Based on the constant struggles I’ve witnessed between the light and the dark sides of the Force, perhaps their innate neutrality can teach us all a valuable lesson.”
This is a Force issue, it’s a relationship issue, and it’s something they’re going to have to work through if they’re ever going to be able to resolve what’s between them. And think about it, when I’m upset with someone I care about, it impacts my ability to be able to do my work, absolutely it does.
Does that make it sexist? Fucking no. It means I care for them and I need to figure out how to solve the problem! I either need to talk to them and sort my shit out, or take a deep breath and find my center. Just like they need to find their center in the Force, but you know what helps? Having a friend or someone who understands there with you to help along the way. To help you understand the experiences you might have otherwise not understood.
The Force is there, it’s always there, and Rey’s had a hard time balancing herself for a while (remember the whole meditation thing with Luke). She needs help. She herself has said she needs help. There’s a power that inside her that she doesn’t understand and she needs to learn how to wield it. And guess who’s been set up to be her teacher (in one way or another) since TFA? Kylo fucking Ren. She goes to dark the same way he can’t keep himself from being attracted by the light.
THEY BALANCE EACH OTHER. And it’s okay! Her powers aren’t being taken from her, but her ability to access them is hampered by her own emotional state. Once she finds her center, her ability to use the Force properly will be just fine (because I think people forget that it takes a lot of mental control to be able to use the Force properly--hell, even Luke struggles with it on Hoth! Remember who helps him there? Obi-Wan’s Force ghost! Guess that’s sexist????).
Hell, I think she’s finding her center in the trailer when she backflips over Kylo’s TIE.
So much discourse comes from people’s headcanons not being validated and I certainly know that some of mine won’t be, but a lot of this angst is because people have been willfully ignoring what the story has been telling them all along.
Heteronormative? Sure, you could make a case for that, and this series as a whole needs to do better wrt representation across the board. Not feminist? How is saying that the only way a woman can be strong is if she only ever relies on herself any more feminist? I’m tired of this fucking narrative where women heroes aren’t allowed to have the same flaws, fuckups, weaknesses, you know, just generally be an interesting character, like their male counterparts. It’s bullshit. Women are multifaceted. They’re allowed to have flaws. They’re allowed to ask for help. They’re allowed to need other people. This shit carries over into IRL and I fucking hate it. Women do not have to be perfect. Not in life and certainly not in fucking fiction. YOU CAN BE A GREAT HERO AND STILL HAVE FLAWS. You can be a hero and not go it alone. You can be a hero and still fail.
The only reason some people have a problem with this is because they don’t like the character that’s clearly causing her conflict right now (but he’s not the only reason she’s feeling conflict!!!!). This all comes down to their fucking hate for Kylo Ren because if she was reliant on the character they shipped her with, there wouldn’t be a gd peep right now.
Anyways, I typed this all out, debated not posting it, but I’m gonna because it took a while.
People are going to believe what they want, I’m not going to change any opinions, but they have to take a moment to ask themselves why they are willing to invest so much time in energy in a series that apparently doing everything they hate all the time? Seems like a big waste of time to me.
Cheers!
#reylo#long post#text#tros speculation#force bonds#asks and answers#anonymous asks#ask pacificwanderer#antbee17
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Snowbaz #21- The Stars Taunt Us; Ch. 2
The Stars Taunt Us (Ch. 2)
Link to The Stars Taunt Us (Ch. 1)
*Baz’s POV*
I left Simon alone on the hill hours ago. I just had to get away from him and his blue eyes and his bronze curls and just his overall Simon Snow-ness. I let him lay on the hill with me because I thought that for once in his fucking life, he’d stay quiet and let me think. Merlin, was I wrong.
It hadn’t even been ten minutes before Simon started talking again. “Baz, I know that I hurt you, but-”
“Snow. Enough.” He looked over at me as though he physically couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from his mouth. (I was foolish to believe I could get even a moment of silence when I’m near him.) He stayed quiet for only a minute before he spoke again.
“Listen, I know that I broke your heart, and that wasn’t okay. But I… well, I thought you’d come right back, now didn’t I? And I-”
“Snow, just fucking stop! I can’t… I need some space. Just text me, for Crowley’s sake!” I stormed off in a huff, leaving my Snow (I suppose he’s not my Snow anymore) all alone on the hill, leaving me to look up at the stars in jealousy.
I can’t even bloody think when I’m around Simon. An hour or so after I left, I got a text from him.
We should talk, Baz. He texted an hour ago.
Just meet me at the cafe tomorrow @ 12. I’ll be waiting. He texted half an hour ago. I didn’t respond.
Of course I know exactly what fucking cafe he’s talking about. The quaint little one on the corner of Piccadilly Circus and Coventry Street. We went there once in the pouring rain. I was ravenous; I didn't even bother covering my mouth when I ate. Snow loved it so much (he said he loved me so much that very same day) that we started going there at least once a week. It became our ‘spot’, so to speak. Our safe place.
I don’t have a safe place anymore. My safe place used to be my room at Watford. Shortly after it had been anywhere Simon had been. Simon Snow was my safe place. Now… I don’t know. Maybe my safe place is just sitting on a hill, talking to the stars. I don’t know yet if I’ll meet him at the cafe (might be too many memories- I shouldn’t be influenced), but if I know Simon Snow (and I do… in a way I thought he’d never let me), I know that he’ll never leave me alone (Crowley, I still don’t know if I want him to leave me alone) unless I meet him. So I suppose I should.
I’m on the roof of my flat complex now, in my new safe place. I sit on the roof, my back against a wall, staring at the stars. Wishing that I could stop loving Simon Snow.
*Simon’s POV*
I’m at the cafe now. When Baz left me on the hill last night, I just laid there for a very long while, thinking. Thinking about us. Thinking about the stars. I am going to fight for him- I just have to. I can’t let us die again. I know that he thinks I broke his heart (okay, technically I did, but that’s beside the point) but maybe I just cracked it. Fractured it ever so slightly. One time I fractured my ankle. (Thanks to Baz.) But because of that, I know that with time, fractures can be healed. We can be healed. His heart can be healed.
I know that he’ll know which cafe I told him to meet me at. It’s our cafe- our safe place. It’s the place that I knew I fell in love with him. (Not the place that I did fall in love with him; that took time, denial, a few hits to the head and one kiss in a burning forest.) If I just give him a (slightly) reasonable amount of space and I play my cards right, I know I can get him back. For Merlin’s sake, not to sound cocky, but Baz has told me that he fell in love with me years ago. Madly in love. And a love like that doesn’t very well just go away over the course of a year.
I’m seated at a small table (our table- we carved our names into the bottom) tucked away in a corner with a hot chocolate and Baz’s coffee when he walks in. His hair is all down now, falling in lazy waves all around his face. (He might’ve done it on purpose- he knows it’s my favorite way that he wears his hair.) His shirt is unbuttoned part-way and he’s wearing the jeans that fit him so nicely. (Fucking space, Simon. Space.) He doesn’t even look around for me. He just walks straight towards our table, seeming to already know that I’ve got him his drink. He walks with an air of confidence he’s always had, but I know him well enough to know that he’s a bit nervous. (He’s running his tongue over his canines- a nervous habit.) When he sits down, he grabs his drink from me and looks me in the eyes, taking in a deep breath.
“You have ten minutes, Snow. Why am I here?” I’m not at all surprised by his assertiveness and get-to-the-point attitude. He’s not one to make small talk. (After years with the bastard, he hardly ever surprises me with that anymore.)
“Okay, well, erm…” I had a whole speech planned out, but I’ve never been good with words. Thankfully, Baz knows that and stays quiet, waiting for me to get a grip. “Baz, I know that the way things ended between us was bad,” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. I resist the age-old urge to growl at him. “But I was stupid then. I was in a bad place, and I just wanted you to be happy… I thought I was just holding you back. I didn’t know that I was making you happy, and that just killed me. But Baz, I was wrong. We’re like…” I search for the words. “We’re like stars.”
He mutters something along the lines of, “You can say that again…” But he doesn’t continue the thought as he lets me finish.
“They can be separate for Merlin knows how long, but they always find their way to each other eventually. That’s us, Baz. We spent so much of our childhood separate, in a way, and we weren’t together for too long before the world decided to fuck it up again. And then, even when we found our way back again, we were separated because I’m a fuckup… again. But I think we can get it right this time. We can find our way back to each other for good. Just… just let me prove it to you. We can take it slow. As slow as you want. But,” I take his hands in mine and I look into his eyes that are two deep pools of grey. “I don’t want to lose you again…” I wait for him to say something, but he stays quiet. “Well?” I want to know what he’s thinking.
*Baz’s POV*
I don’t know what I’m thinking. All of these pretty words dance off of his tongue, but I just can’t feel it anymore. I don’t feel the fire that was once there, and I don’t feel the trust and safety that came after and with the fire. I just… I feel tired. Tired of the back and forth. I just want to want and be wanted. But not just when it’s convenient- I want it to be a constant. But then again… maybe it will come back with time? And here he is, looking at me with all of this hope in his eyes, and he’s talking about the stars…
“Sure, Snow. I guess… I guess we can give it a bloody try,” I let out a sigh as though it’s work to be doing this (it really is, I suppose), but I can’t keep the small smile off of my face as his whole face spreads into a shit-eating grin. Crowley, he may make me want to fold in on myself and implode, but fuck if he doesn’t have a lovely smile.
“Good- uh, perfect. Well then,” He gives my hand a squeeze as he stumbles over his words. (I used to find it endearing- it’s starting to get annoying now, to be quite honest.) “Can I take you out this evening?” I nod my head and sigh again like I can’t help it. (I feel as though it may be a real sigh this time- I don’t quite feel like swooning much anymore.)
…
We’re out to the cinema and watching a truly treacherous movie called ‘Twilight’. (It was Simon’s idea- I wasn’t surprised.) Maybe a year ago, I would’ve found it humorous that this was the movie he picked for us to go see. But after having taken a step back from our relationship, it feels… a bit insensitive of him. Thoughtless, perhaps. Although I try not to complain too much because he’s been holding my hand the whole time, and it feels like it had felt all those years ago when he could touch me without running. It doesn’t feel like electricity or fire, or even like anything remotely passionate (even as he leans in to place a kiss on my neck and rest his head on my shoulder). It doesn’t feel bad, I mean… nice. It feels nice. But every time he laughs in my ear or leans in to kiss me softly, I feel a dull ache in my chest; perhaps where my heart used to be before he stole the broken pieces for himself.
By the end of the movie, I am thoroughly offended at the vampire cliches, but Simon (of course) loved every second of it. (Is it cute or sweet that he’s taken such an interest in vampire cliches? It feels weird when he could just ask a real one about the real things surrounding vampire lore.) We stay hand in hand (I remember what it felt like when I loved it; it felt like fireworks in my chest) all the way until he walks me up to right outside my flat. It feels like how it looks in the romcom movies (Simon used to make me watch them)- it’s awkward, and we don’t know what to do. Crowley, it might be even more awkward since we used to date.
“Well, Snow, thanks for… the movie.” (I can barely even call that garbage film a movie- it feels like disrespect to cinematography.) Before I can turn to walk up to my flat, Simon grabs me by my collar and pulls me down, crashing our lips together. He’s eager, like a puppy lapping up food, and since I don’t know what else to do, I kiss him like I did the night of the forest fire. I remember what that passion felt like… like being set aflame from the inside out.
This feels like kissing a stranger.
…
Simon and I have been dating for three weeks. In some ways, it’s gone back to how it was before he broke it off. There are soft touches and more jokes. I’m more comfortable around him now. We still have our own flats, and we haven’t slept together. (Simon still has intimacy issues and I just.... well I don’t mind, to say the least.) Although things have been good, and I can see going on like this for years, I still don’t feel how I did a year ago.
Sometimes, when we’re just sitting close together and watching a movie, it almost feels normal. Like we’re back to our old lives. (Sidenote: I hang out more with Penny again. Aleister Crowley, I missed that little witch.) But we were separated for a year. And under the worst conditions possible. I had been so in love with him, and every single day I had waited for him to change his mind about me- about us. When he finally did, I felt as though what little soul I might have had left my body in search of a warmer home. My heart was, to put it simply, ripped from my chest and stomped on. That soul and that heart… they loved Simon Snow with every fibre of their beings. But whatever was left in their wake just hurts. Of course I still love him (so much); a love like that doesn’t just go away. But the longer it sits unreciprocated, the more it tears you limb from limb, leaving nothing but a numb shell behind.
But I don’t know. Maybe those feelings will… come back one day? I suppose I’ll just fake it until then. (I wonder if the stars ever fake their magnetism because it felt like the thing to do… I’ve been spending a lot of time in my safe place lately.)
*Simon’s POV*
Baz and I have been dating for two months, and it feels as though we’re right back where we were before we broke up… but it’s so much better this time. Every touch, every kiss, every look is magic. It’s passion, it’s fire, it’s… it’s fireworks. No one knows better than I do that you have limited time on this Earth. And because of that, I know that whatever I want to do while I’m in the world, I should get the fuck going. And number one on my list is spending the rest of my life with Baz. (Do stars spend the entirety of their lives together, or do they one day meet and fall in love?)
Right now we’re in our safe place. Our cozy little table in the cafe that never seems to fail in being downright lovely. I can think of no better place to ask Baz what I want to ask him next. Right now he’s just sipping his latte and staring off into space. “Hey Baz?” He looks at me, eyes still partially glazed over like he had been deep in thought.
“Yes, Snow?” I take a deep breath as I start talking.
“So, as you know, I love you with every fibre of my being. I love you more than life and Sour Cherry Scones. More than Romeo loved Juliet and more than the stars seem to love each other,” (We talk about stars a lot.) “I know we’re young. I also know that this life is short, and we’ve already been through so much together and apart. I think we work better as team- we face challenges and other people better together. You are my partner in crime. I know that we’ve had a bloody rocky past, and we may not have the easiest present, either.” I get down on one knee, bringing up the ring box to be held in front of his face. He looks like he’s in shock, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. “But I think that we can make damn well sure that we have the best future ahead of us as possible. And the only way I can see my future is if you’re in it, right there beside me. So… will you be my terrible, terrible husband?” I look up at him, hope in my heart as he takes the ring in his fingers, studying the band.
“‘He told me we were stars…’” He whispers the engravement on the inside of the wedding band. He stands up with the ring, looking down at me, a set look on his face. (I don’t know what it means.) His eyes hold the stars.
______________________________
Do we like? Do we hate? Do we want a third chapter? Do we want to leave it be? Feedback please
#simon#simon snow#tyrannus basilton grimm pitch#baz grimm pitch#baz grimm-pitch#world of mages#penelope bunce#snowbaz#snowbaz fanfic#snowbaz fanfiction#snowbaz fic#angst#fluff#angst snowbaz#sad snowbaz#marry me#watford school of magicks#magic#stars#depression#love#carry on#rainbow rowell#fanfiction#fanfic#fic
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central pines - chapter 2 - siren eyes [elodie davis x reader]
chapter twoooooooo :)
elodie’s POV
Elodie hadn’t been in the car for longer than about an hour before the sparse roads turned into the larger, dense forest. She used to like going hiking with her friends, or just hanging out with Tabitha and Moe around Kelley Point, but wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of hanging out in the woods with a man who was way too into the Big Bang Theory and a couple of other fuckups like her.
Wait. Not exactly thrilled wasn’t the phrase here. How about fucking hated?
Elodie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window of her dad’s car, letting one of Sabine’s new songs float through her headphones.
Every time I see you,
in dreams and in front of me,
I swear you’re holding
the key that you want from me in your
siren eyes-
Elodie paused the music, momentarily waiting to try and find another song. She knew that the song was probably about her, but she could do without the constant reference to be pulling over by the cops. Even if that wasn’t what the “siren” eyes were supposed to be. She didn’t like remembering. She didn’t like the exactly zero kisses she and Sabine had time to share before they got pulled over, and she definitely didn’t like what had come after. Her father and stepmother coming to pick her up from the station, the concerned hugs masked in what could only be anger and grief, and Sabine’s tired expression that showed that she had to move on without Elodie.
Elodie snapped out of her daze when her father waved his hands back and forth from the front seat, pulling off her headphones and preparing for whatever he was about to say.
He exchanged a furtive glance with his wife before turning back to Elodie.
“We’re here, kiddo.”
Elodie looked out the side window then, seeing a tall building come into frame and nestling itself in the way too fucking big pine trees that she kept seeing. God, she was really sick of pine trees.
There was, however, someone she recognized (but would sooner like to forget) standing in front of the facility with a large clipboard in hand and a hat that said, “Welcome, new camper!” in bold yellow letters.
Bazinga John.
By the time they’d swung into one of the parking spots, John’s entirely-too-cheerful face was in their passenger side window, tapping on the glass.
He knocked three times before laughing at himself, letting out a “Penny!” and joining in the polite laughs Elodie’s father and stepmother made. Elodie cracked a slightly concerned smile, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, and stepped out of the car.
“How ya doing, Elodie?” John said, practically vibrating with excitement and energy. He put out his hand for her to shake, and she took it for a brief and uncomfortable second before shoving it back into her pocket.
This was so weird.
“I’m good,” she said tentatively, turning to remove her backpack from the car and putting her headphones around her neck. “A little hungry, but good.”
“Great!” John exclaimed, popping his hands on his hips like this was the best thing anyone had possibly ever said to him. “We have another camper coming out to give you the tour, and she’s super nice, and she can definitely take you to the kitchen first-“
“Uh, John?” Elodie’s father said, pulling a larger suitcase out of the car and standing next to it awkwardly. “I think I have to do some paperwork or something? Could you take me to the admissions office?”
John, again, looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of doing absolutely the most. “Of course, pops! Just follow me! Elodie’s tour guide will be out in a second. I’m gonna take that responsibility for her being late, I asked her to grab me some more cold brew- mmm! Nothing like some good coffee at this hour, am I right Els?”
“Sure,” Elodie said, wide eyes betraying the cheerful tone John was trying to push into the air. “Yes, coffee. It’s uh… good.”
Suddenly a door slammed open in the front of the main building, a girl with an embroidered jacket running out in white sneakers and with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand. Her Y/H/C hair bounced in the air behind her, and an obvious coffee stain on her pants betrayed the polished look that her button-down and rings put off. She ran up, passing the coffee cup to John, and stopped in front of Elodie.
Whoa.
Elodie knew this wasn’t the time to absolutely scout out really, really god damn beautiful girls, but you were on a whole other level. She was almost starstruck talking to you, snapping out of it only when you stuck a hand out in front of yourself.
“I’m Y/N,” the pretty girl (oh, who was Elodie kidding. The fucking hot ass girl) said, looking at Elodie with an infectious grin across her face. “You’re Elodie, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Elodie said, reaching out to shake your hand and try not to smile too big. She was in rehab, and kept reminding herself of that fact, no matter how good looking her prospective tour guide was going to be. Also, she was probably straight, right? I mean, her jacket was very decorated, and she was wearing sneakers with slacks, but straight people could wear stuff like that too… Right?
“Elodie Davis,” Elodie said, nervously playing with one of her headphones and adjusting her backpack. “What’s your name?”
“Y/N March,” you said, still smiling and shaking her father and stepmother’s hands before sticking your hands in your back pockets. “My friends call me March, though. Given that we’re gonna be roommates, you can call me that.”
Elodie stopped in her tracks. “Roommates?”
You let out an exasperated sigh. “John!” you half-yelled, laughing in the process. “You didn’t tell her?”
John clasped his hands together and made a fake pouty face. “I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise!”
You continued laughing then, and Elodie had to stop herself from creepily staring at your general… everything.
“Sorry, Elodie,” you said, pointing back behind you with your thumb. “We can head in, get some food, see your room. Or, my room. Our room. My bad.”
“It’s cool,” Elodie said, pulling her four-wheeled suitcase behind her and watching her dad and stepmom disappear through the front gate behind John. He was humming a tune under his breath that Elodie recognized, but-
“If you can believe it, it’s The Big Bang Theory theme song,” you said, sighing in disappointment. “If you ever hear him humming anything, that’s probably what it is. Every time I hear it I feel like I’m in hell.”
Elodie laughed, watching you start to turn on your heels to go inside. “You hear a lot of Bazingas around here?”
“OH, DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED!” you yelled, causing Elodie to break out in a peal of surprised laughter. “Every day. Every day. But anyway, you can follow me, set your stuff down.”
Elodie pushed down her grin, desperately trying to actually bring up the subject at hand, which was that she was in rehab. This wasn’t a fun place, or a cool club where she could hang out with pretty people and her actual friends, but rehab.
A downcast expression fell over her face then, and you noticed, reaching out and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I know it’s not easy, and I really fucking hated it when I first got here. I’m not saying you have to like it, or anything. Don’t try and act like you do if you don’t. If you do, you’ll go insane.”
Elodie looked back up, locking eyes with you and sending a small, grateful smile your way. She was totally ignoring the fact that you were so close to her.
“Thanks. Any way we could get some food first?” Elodie said, trying to cover up the sound of her grumbling stomach in your presence.
“Oh, hell yeah. I’m starving,” you said, starting to turn back into the building and holding the door open for Elodie. Elodie looked quickly at the back of your jacket, seeing it adorned with iron-on patches and the occasional “Reproductive Rights are Human Rights!” or “Useless Lesbian” patches. She quickly squashed down the excitement that came with knowing you were gay (or, queer) and stepped through the door.
“Thanks, March.”
#trinkets#trinkets imagine#elodie davis#elodie trinkets#elodie davis fic#elodie davis x reader#netflix#moe truax#tabitha foster
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BTHB: kneecapped
“Don’t you have something better to do?”
Alec shot Oliver a weird look, his eyes narrowing. “And what on earth do you mean by that?”
Oliver shrugged as he stepped past him and pushed the door open. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
For a guy who’d been begging to become a part of the Ghouls, Alec sure wasn’t showing his gratitude. Oliver just didn’t get it; Alec prioritized everything else but the assignment at hand.
As if the group didn’t have enough lazy freeloaders as was.
They crossed the dim street and headed down it. Even though Oliver had lived on that street for the better part of his young life, he swore he would never get used to the constant noise. Car alarms, drunken yelling, sober fighting, crashing of objects, TVs blasting soap operas way too loud, children crying.
But as soon as the Ghouls got enough money to move the hell away from there, they would. And that was why they were there in the first place.
One simple job; one simple robbery. In and out, fast, quiet, and unseen. Just like any other day.
The only thing that was different was Alec.
Take the new guy, Oliver, he’s skilled. Don’t be such an idiot, Oliver, give him a chance. Quit being such a pussy, Oliver, and toughen up.
Fucking Alec and the charm that had all the higher-ranked members swooning.
“Come on”, Oliver said and glanced at him over his shoulder. He did his utmost best to keep the annoyance from showing in his voice, but he was pretty sure he failed. “You remember where we’re going?”
Alec rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I remember. God. If we’re gonna do this, can you just shut up? I’m kinda tired listening to you whine like a damn baby all the time.”
“Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t have to whine if you lifted a goddamn finger every once in a while”, Oliver hissed.
What had he done to deserve such a teammate?
“Yeah, and maybe I’d actually—” Alec said but then stopped. His eyes narrowed on Oliver and he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You know what? Nevermind. Let’s just focus on the task.”
“Fine by me”, Oliver said, turning back to the street ahead.
It was going to be a long night.
—
Oliver slid the lockpick out of the lock, drew in a deep breath, and inched the back door open.
Oh, thank God. Disarming the alarm had worked.
He took a quick peek inside — nobody there — and then slipped in, Alec right at his tail.
Hurrying past Oliver, Alec headed further into the pitch black house.
“Hey”, Oliver hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, and grabbed Alec by the shoulder. “You get the door.”
“You’re supposed to—” Alec started.
“Get - the - fucking - door”, Oliver said, yanking Alec back towards himself. “Anyone comes in, you bash their heads in. I’m gonna get the box.”
Even in the near black darkness, Oliver could see Alec’s eyes flame in barely controlled anger. Yet, through gritted teeth and clenched fists he nodded, backing away to the door.
Oliver huffed and walked off.
It didn’t matter what Brie had told them to do. He knew better; leaving finding the right box to Alec was a mistake. That kid could never get anything done, not right.
As long as Alec didn’t act like a stuck up coward, nobody would ever find out Oliver had decided against Brie’s straight orders.
And it wasn’t like Alec would be in any trouble down there. All the Jades were at the funeral in another city, hours away. It didn’t matter who stayed down and who went up.
He snuck through the dark corridor and up the stairs.
The house was big, a mansion more than anything, decorated in all things gold and shiny. The Jade Angels sure loved shoving their wealth in others’ faces.
Fuck them.
Oliver hurried down the second-floor corridor and then through the last door on the right.
Stepping inside, he could tell the intel was right. Rows and rows of shelves filled with antiques, jewelry, rarities, the sort.
But none of that was why he was there. No, the jewelry, the antiques, it was all pocket change compared to the real thing.
The Winter Egg. Priced at nearly ten million dollars, that was their ticket out.
The mansion was usually a fortress with tens of guards and even more Jades just posting around. The leader’s funeral was a one in a lifetime chance.
And it wasn’t hard to figure out where the egg was.
At the very end of the room stood a safe, protecting its treasures with three combination locks and walls as thick as Oliver’s arm.
Oliver grinned as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Miss Candy hadn’t visited the Jades just to satisfy their dirtiest needs; she’d walked away with the codes to the safe and a promise of half of all they’d earn by breaking in.
He opened the notes in his phone, hurried over to the safe, and—
A scream.
Oliver flinched back and up, his blood skipping over a beat. What the hell had that been?
Something crashed and someone shot a gun.
Shit. He couldn’t trust Alec to even watch the door?
Tossing his phone back into his pocket, he hurried back into the corridor outside. That goddamn kid, he really couldn’t do one, simple task on his own?
There was a cry and a grunt, followed by a short-lived scream.
Oliver’s heart picked up the pace as he rushed down the stairs, hopping three at once. He drew his gun out and stopped at the bottom, quickly taking in the situation—
Alec on his back on the floor, sobbing and whining.
One dead guy. A Jade. Two guys still alive. Jades, too.
“Hey!” Oliver snapped, brought his gun up, and pulled the trigger.
The other Jade was dead before he hit the floor. The other one gasped and flinched back, desperate to take cover, but Oliver was faster.
He’d always be faster.
As the second guy hit the floor, dead, the rumble of an approaching car made Oliver’s head snap up and at the general direction of the front door.
Shit. They shouldn’t have been back so soon!
“Come on”, Oliver said, pushing down the anger flaming in his chest. Oh, that goddamn Alec, he’d done something, hadn’t he? “Let’s go.”
Oliver hurried over to Alec and past him to the back door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He stepped outside and—
“Wait, I can’t—” Alec yelled after him, his voice breaking into a wet gasp at the final word. “I can’t walk. They— They busted my knee. They—”
Oliver froze.
What did I do to deserve this idiot?
The approaching car’s headlights illuminated the mansion from the other side.
Ah, shit.
“Fine”, Oliver hissed and darted back to Alec. He crouched next to him, wrapping his arms around Alec’s back, and met his bloodshot eyes. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be”, Alec said and laughed airily through a sob, closing his eyes. He threw his other arm around Oliver’s neck and nodded. “Let’s go.”
He couldn’t drown a scream as they stood up. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter, his body trembling and shaking as he bit down on his lip and silenced himself.
Oliver held him tight. “Come on, we gotta be quick.”
--
Oliver dropped the phone onto the grass and turned his gaze to Alec’s flushed face. “They’re coming, alright? It’s not gonna take long.”
Alec nodded his head up and down, tears streaming down his cheeks. He still refused to open his eyes — was the pain really that bad, even lying down?
“Let me see”, Oliver said and sighed, turning slightly around on the soft grass to get a better view of the newbie’s knees. He reached his hand out to touch his leg—
“Don’t”, Alec gasped and snapped his hand up, snatching Oliver by the wrist. His fingernails dug into Oliver’s skin. “Don’t touch me. Don’t. It’s… God, it’s bad.”
“What the fuck did they do to you?” Oliver asked, pulling his hand away from Alec’s legs.
Alec still didn’t let go, though.
“I knocked one of them down and focused on another one, but then the— The first one hit me with something”, he said, his breath coming out in sharp gasps between every two, three words. “I couldn’t even fucking dodge.”
Oliver eyed him as Alec finally opened his eyes and laughed. There wasn’t a lot of humor in his tone.
“Maybe you were right”, Alec said, shaking his head ever so slightly as he stared up into the night sky. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this job.”
You think?
Oliver grimaced but stayed quiet. Brie was already gonna kill Alec for what had happened; he didn’t need any more shit from anyone else.
Besides, there was something about the whole situation that made Oliver… He wasn’t even sure. Feel bad, maybe? He had told Alec to stay at the door, after all. This was his fault.
“I mean, I know that you hate me. And that’s fine, seriously, I don’t care what you think of me”, Alec continued, his voice quiet. “I know I am a fuckup. That’s all everybody’s ever told me, anyways.”
Oliver couldn’t help the sting of discomfort stabbing through his chest.
What the hell was this kid on about? A fuckup was playing it up a little.
“I know I haven’t been doing much, and I know this isn’t an excuse, but I just… Didn’t want to cause more problems for you guys”, Alec said. A pathetic attempt of a smile rose on his lips and he huffed, closing his eyes again. “You gave me a home. A fresh start in life. Food, clothes, friends. And all I can give in return is trouble. So I just… decided that I shouldn’t do anything. At least if I didn’t do anything, I’d never cause problems, right?”
Oliver bit down on his lip as he turned his gaze upwards, to the dark night sky.
“Brie’s gonna kick me out after this, isn’t she? I fucked up”, he said. “I just… I just hope she won’t. I have nowhere else to go. Not anymore.”
Oh, shit.
Oliver closed his eyes as he breathed in, a band tightening around his chest. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
“Listen”, he finally said, and looked down again. Alec met his gaze, still holding his wrist. “Take your time, alright? Even if you take some time to get used to this shit, the Ghouls aren’t going anywhere. And about Brie…”
Oliver grimaced.
“I was the one who was supposed to be the lookout, right? So what happened is basically my fault anyways”, he said, eyeing the newbie’s widening eyes. “You just focus on getting that knee fixed up, alright? Let me worry about the rest.”
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Now 2~Gdragon Pt.29
Genre:Angst/SMUT
Rated:NSFW
Pairing: GD X Reader
wordcount:3,204
Masterlist
DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!
Jiyong POV
Do you want another cup of coffee?” she asks. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
“No, I know how to get rid of a hangover. I’ve had plenty,” I growl.
Carly rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a dick. I was just asking.”
“Stop talking.” I rub my temples. Her voice is annoying as hell.
“Charming as ever, I see.” She laughs and leaves me alone in her small kitchen.
I’m a dumb-ass for even being here, but it’s not like I had another option. Yes, I did, I’m just trying to not take the blame for my overreaction. I was harsh on Y/N and said some pretty fucked-up things, and now here I am in Carly’s kitchen drinking fucking coffee this late in the afternoon.
“Do you need a ride back to your car?” she yells from the other room.
“Obviously,” I respond, and she walks into the kitchen wearing only a bra.
“You’re lucky that I brought your drunk ass home with me. My boyfriend will be arriving soon, so we need to go.” She slides her shirt over her head.
“You have a boyfriend? Nice.” This keeps getting better.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes. I do. It may be surprising to you that not everyone just wants an endless parade of fuck buddies.”
I almost tell her about Y/N , but I decide against it, since it’s none of her business. “I gotta piss first,” I tell her and walk toward the bathroom.
My head is pounding and I’m angry at myself for coming here. I should be at home . . . well, on campus. I hear my phone buzzing on the counter and snap back around.
“Don’t you dare answer that,” I bark at Carly, and she takes a step back.
“I’m not! Man, you weren’t this big of an asshole last night,” she remarks, but I ignore her.
I follow Carly to her car, my head pounding with each step against the concrete. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I shouldn’t have drunk at all. I look over at Carly as she rolls her window down and lights a cigarette.
How could she ever have been my type? She’s not wearing a seat belt. She puts makeup on at stoplights. Y/N is so different from her, from any of the girls I’ve ever been with.
As we’re driving back to the bar where I got shit-faced last night, I keep rereading the texts from Y/N , over and over again. This is terrible—she’s probably really worried. My head’s too foggy to think up a good excuse, so I just text her, I fell asleep in the car after drinking too much with Taeyang last night. Be home soon.
Something feels off, and I pause for a minute. But my whole brain is just rattled, so I hit send and watch the phone to see if she’s replying. Nothing.
Well, I can’t tell her about this, about staying at Carly’s house. She’ll never forgive me, she won’t even hear me out. I know she won’t. I can tell she’s getting tired of my shit lately. I know she is.
I just don’t have a fucking clue how to fix it.
Carly interrupts my rumination when she hits the brake and curses. “Aaagh, fuck. We have to go around—there’s a wreck up there,” she says, pointing to the cars blocking our way.
Glancing up, I see a middle-aged man standing with his hands in his pockets while talking to a police officer. He points to a white car that looks . . . just like . . .
I panic. “Stop the car,” I demand.
“What? Jesus, Hard—”
“I said stop the goddamn car!” Without thinking, I open the door as the car comes to a stop and rush over to the damaged cars. “Where’s the other driver?” I ask the officer angrily and look around the scene.
The front end of the white car is badly damaged, and then I see the WCU parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror. Fuck. An ambulance is parked next to the police car. Fuck.
If something happened to her . . . if she isn’t okay . . .
“Where’s the girl? Someone fucking answer me!” I scream.
The cop gets an aggressively annoyed look on his face, but the other driver sees my anxiety and says softly, “There,” and points to the ambulance.
My heart stops beating.
Wandering over in a daze, I see the ambulance doors are open . . . and Y/N is sitting on its back bumper, an ice pack on her cheek.
Thank God. Thank God it’s only small.
I rush over to her, and the words start tumbling from my mouth. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Relief takes over her features when she sees me. “I had an accident.” Above her eye is a small bandage, and her lip is swollen and split on the side.
“Can you go?” I ask rudely. “Can she go?” I ask the young EMT who’s standing nearby.
The woman nods and walks away quickly. I reach for Y/N’s ice pack and move it, revealing a knot the size of a golf ball. Her cheeks are stained with tears, and her eyes are swollen and red. I can already see the black eye forming under her delicate skin.
“Fuck—are you okay? Was it his fault?” I turn and try to find that asshole again.
“No, I ran into him,” she says, wincing as she grabs the ice pack and puts it back on her skin. Then some of the relief leaves her eyes as she looks up at me and asks, “Where were you all day?”
“What?” I ask, honestly confused, between my hangover and seeing her like this.
With a colder look in her eyes, she says, “I said, ‘ Jiyong , where were you all day?’ ”
I snap back to the situation. Fuck.
And right as I’m about to make an excuse, Carly walks up and smacks me on the ass. “Well, Mr. Dark and Moody, can I go? You can walk back to your car from here, right? I really need to get back home.”
Y/N ’s eyes go wide. “Who are you?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not this. Not now.
Carly smiles and gives Y/N a little nod. “I’m Jiyong’s friend Carly. Sorry about your accident.” Then she looks at me. “Can I go now?”
“Bye, Carly,” I snap.
“Wait,” Y/N says. “He was with you last night at your place?”
I try to make eye contact with her, but she continues to stare at Carly, who says, “Yeah, I was just trying to take him back to his car.”
“His car? Where’s that?” she says, her voice shaking.
“Bye, Carly,” I say again and glare at her.
Y/N stands up, though her knees buckle a little. “No—tell me where his car is.”
I grab hold of her elbows in an attempt to stop her, but she pushes me away and then whimpers from the pain of the motion. “Don’t touch me,” she says through her teeth.
“Carly. Where is his car?” Y/N asks again.
Carly raises her hands and looks back and forth between Y/N and me. “At the bar where I work. Okay, I’m going now,” she says and wanders off.
“ Y/N . . .” I plead. God, why am I such a fuckup?
“Get away from me,” she replies. Her cheek goes in a little; I can tell she’s biting down on it to keep her tears at bay. Now that she’s standing here, staring off in the distance and trying to appear emotionless, I’m missing the days of her constant crying.
“ Y/N , we have . . .” I begin, but my voice cracks. Now I’m the emotional one, and for once I don’t care. The panic from seeing the front end of her car smashed still courses through me, and I don’t want anything other than to hold her right now.
She still doesn’t look at me. “Go. Now. Or I’ll tell the officer to make you.”
“I don’t give a fuck about them—”
Her eyes whip back toward me with a vengeance. “No—I’m done listening to you! I’m not sure what happened last night, but all morning I knew—somehow knew—you were with someone else. I was just trying to force myself not to believe it.”
“We can work this out,” I beg. “We always have.”
“ Jiyong! Do you not see that I was just in an accident?” she yells and starts crying, prompting the EMT to walk back over. “Actually, you probably can’t tell, your version of reality is so warped. You write me a note last night about going out with your dad this morning, then you text me that you fell asleep drunk in your car after drinking with Taeyang. With Taeyang! You must think I’m stupid enough to believe anything—even things that contradict each other.” She glares at me. “Of course, you’re a walking bundle of contradictions, so, yeah, I can see how you might mistakenly think the rest of reality is, too.”
The realization of just how stupid I was fills me, and I can’t speak for a moment. I’m so stupid, so very, very stupid. And not just because I couldn’t keep my stories straight.
The EMT takes that moment to put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder and says, “Is everything okay over here? We need to get you to the hospital, just to check everything out.”
Wiping her tears from her cheeks, Y/N looks dead at me and says to her, “Yes. I’m ready. I’m ready to leave now.”
I crack open my fourth beer and spin the cap on the glossy wooden surface of our coffee table. When is she going to be here? Is she going to be here?
Maybe I should just text her and tell her that I did have sex with Carly, just to end both of our miseries.
A loud knock on the door breaks me from my plotting.
Here we go. I hope she’s alone. I grab my beer, take another swig, and head for the door. The knocking quickly shifts to pounding, and I swing open the door to find Taeyang. Before I can react, his hands grip the collar of my T-shirt and he slams me against the wall.
What the fuck? He’s much stronger than I ever expected, and I’m astounded by his aggressive behavior.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” he yells. I didn’t know his voice could even get that loud.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I push back, but he doesn’t move. Fuck, he’s strong.
He lets go of me and for a second I think he’s going to punch me, but he doesn’t. “I know that you slept with another girl and you caused her to wreck her car!” He gets in my face again.
“I suggest you lower your fucking voice,” I snap.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he says through his teeth.
The alcohol makes me indignant, when I should be ashamed. “I already beat your ass before, remember,” I say as I go back to the couch and sit.
Taeyang follows me. “I wasn’t as angry with you then as I am now.” He lifts his chin higher. “You can’t just go around hurting her all the time!”
I wave him off. “I didn’t even sleep with that girl. I just slept over at her house, so mind your own damn business.”
“Oh, wow! Of course you’re drinking!” He gestures at the empty beer bottles on the table and the one in my hand. “ Y/N is all banged up and has a concussion because of you, and here you are getting drunk. You’re such a prick!” he practically screams.
“That wasn’t my fucking fault and I tried to talk to her!”
“Yes, it was your fault! It was your damn text message that she was trying to read when she crashed. A text that she knew right away was a lie, might I add.”
The breath is knocked out of me. “What are you talking about?” I choke.
“She was so anxious to hear from you all day, she grabbed her phone as soon as she saw your name.”
This is my fault. How did I not put it together? I cause these injuries to her. I hurt her.
Taeyang continues to stare at me. “She’s done with you—you know that, don’t you?”
I look up at him, suddenly weary. “Yeah. I know.” I reach for my beer. “And you can leave now.”
But he snatches the bottle from my hand and walks into the kitchen.
“You’re really fucking pushing it,” I warn him and jump up.
“You’re being an idiot and you know it. You’re here getting shit-faced while Y/N’s hurt, and you don’t even care!” he yells.
“Stop yelling at me! Fuck!” I twist my fingers into my hair, tugging at the roots. “I do care. But she isn’t going to believe anything I say!”
“Do you blame her? You should have just come home, or how about this, never left at all?” he says and pours my beer down the drain. “How can you be so uncaring? She loves you so much.” He goes to the refrigerator and hands me a bottle of water.
“I’m not uncaring. I’m just sick of waiting for some shit to happen. You were babbling on and on about your fucking perfect love life and making sacrifices, blah, blah. Then Y/N goes and says his damn name.” I roll my head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
“Whose name?” he asks.
“Seungri. She said his name in her sleep. Clear as day, like she wanted him to be there instead of me.”
“In her sleep?” he asks, and I can hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Yes. Sleeping or not, she said his name instead of mine.”
He rolls his eyes. “You do realize how ridiculous this sounds, don’t you? Y/N said Seungri’s name while she was sleeping, so you go out and get drunk? You’re making a big deal out of this for no reason.”
The water bottle crunches and collapses in my hand from my grip.
“You don’t even—” I start, but then hear keys and the sound of the front lock turning and opening.
I turn around and see her come through the door. Y/N .
. . . and Seungri. Seungri next to her.
I can’t see straight as I get up and move toward them. “What the fuck is this shit?” I scream.
Y/N takes a step back, stumbles, and catches herself on the wall behind her. “ Jiyong , stop!” she yells at me.
“No! Fuck this! I’m sick of you coming around every time shit goes down!” I say and shove my hands against Zed’s chest.
“Stop it!” Y/N yells again.
“Please,” she says, then looks at Taeyang. “What are you doing here?” she asks him.
“I . . . I came to talk to him.”
I nod sarcastically. “Actually, he came here trying to fight me.”
Y/N’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “What?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Taeyang says.
Seungri is breathing hard and he’s staring at her. How could she bring him here after everything? Of course she’d go running to him. The man of her dreams.
Y/N turns to Seungri and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me home, Seungri. I really appreciate it, but it’s probably best you go.”
He eyes me. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes, I am. Thank you so much. Taeyang’s here, and I’ll be going to his parents’ place tonight.”
Seungri nods in agreement—like he gets enough of a say to agree to anything!—then turns and leaves. Y/N closes the door behind him.
I can’t control my anger as Y/N turns to me with a scowl on her face. “I’m getting my clothes.” She walks into the bedroom.
I follow her, of course.
“Why did you call him for a ride?” I shout behind her.
“Why did you go drinking with this Carly girl? Oh, wait, you were probably complaining how needy and full of expectations your girlfriend is,” she snaps.
“Oh, let me guess how quick you were to unload to Seungri about how fucked up I am,” I growl back at her.
“No! I didn’t tell him anything, actually. I’m sure he already knows it.”
“Are you going to let me explain my side of this?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she remarks, attempting to pull her suitcase from the top shelf in the closet. I move to help her.
“Move,” she snaps, obviously out of patience with my bullshit.
I step back and let her get the case down. “I shouldn’t have left last night,” I tell her.
“Really?” she sarcastically says.
“Yes, really. I shouldn’t have left and I shouldn’t have drunk so much—but I didn’t cheat on you. I wouldn’t do that. I only slept at her house because I was too drunk to drive—that’s it,” I explain.
She crosses her arms and gets that classic mad-girlfriend pose. “Then why lie?”
“I don’t know . . . because I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Well, cheaters usually don’t admit when they cheat.”
“I didn’t cheat on you,” I tell her. She sighs, obviously not convinced.
“It’s really hard to believe you when you blatantly lie all the time. This time isn’t any different.”
“I know. I’m sorry for lying before, about everything, but I wouldn’t cheat on you.” I put my arms in the air.
She neatly places a folded shirt in her suitcase. “Like I said, cheaters don’t admit they cheated. If you didn’t have anything to hide, you wouldn’t have lied.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, I didn’t do anything with her,” I say, defending myself as she adds another article of clothing.
“So what if I got wasted and stayed the night at Seungris house? What would you do?” she asks me, and the thought nearly sends me over the edge.
“I’d fucking kill him.”
“So it’s not a big deal when you do it, only if it were me?” She calls me out on my double standard. “None of this even matters��you made it clear that I’m only temporary in your life,” Y/N says. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall to get her toiletries. She really is going with Taeyang to my father’s house. This is bullshit. She isn’t temporary to me, how could she even think that? Probably because of all the shit I said to her last night and my lack of words today.
“You know I’m not going to let this go,” I tell her when she zips her suitcase.
“Well, I’m leaving.”
“Why? You know you’ll be back.” My anger speaks for me.
“That’s exactly why I’m leaving,” she says, her voice shaky as she grabs her suitcase and leaves the room without looking back.
When I hear the front door slam shut, I lean my back against the wall and slide to the floor.
a/n dude on last part i propably change the nameand inames zed in previous part seunghyun and i’m sorry zed=seungri jace=seunghyun just to clear that up sorry
#gdr#gdragon bigbang#gdragon scenarios#bigbang gdragon#kpop gdragon#G Dragon#g dragon scenarios#Kang Daesung#g dragon bigbang#big bang#bigbang#bigbang seungri#top bigbang#kpop scenarios#kpop scenario#bigbang scenario#bigbang scenarios#Kwon Jiyong#kwon ji yong#kwonjiyong#jiyongie#Bigbang Smut#angst#kpop angst
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I’m sorry if this is triggering. I’m having a really bad night. Please don’t take down or read if you think you might get triggered.
Everything is hitting me all at once. All the repressed memories and feelings pouring out of the wounds I took so long to nurture and heal alone. And you know what’s funny? I feel the exact same as I did then. Even now, in university with my own room and total freedom as my own person, I still feel ike I’m under someone’s control. I still feel like I can’t express myself freely or do what I want. I’m unhappy with my major, I’m unhappy with this place. The people I’ve surrounded myself with are decent in their own ways and I know they have my back, but I can’t break down these walls I’ve put up so long ago to keep everyone out.
I can’t trust anyone but myself, and even then only half the time. I’m pushing myself to meet so many standards I perceive that probably aren’t even there. I haven’t been eating, I haven’t been sleeping. I’m addicted to the pain and anguish. The constant uncomfortably and emotional/mental straining. But I can’t show any sign of weakness because that’s not acceptable. You’re apparently broken and pitiful if you do and I absolutely hate pity. Don’t you goddamn dare pity me.
I have so many people to blame for what I am today, but even then. Is it right to blame or am I just seeking justification for what I put myself through? Was it my doing to get punished by being practically beaten with a belt, forced to sit in one place and brutally lectured that all of this was my fault, how stupid I am, and then left in my room with absolutely nothing for hours except myself and my mind as a fucking child? Then, you know, they act like it’s normal and it’s just what’s supposed to fucking happen. It’s just normal. ITS JUST GODDAMN NORMAL TO BEAT YOUR KID AND THEN LEAVE THEM LOCKED IN THEIR BEDROOM WITH LITERALLY NOTHING AT ALL! NO COMFORT, NO INTERACTION BESIDES “you did this to yourself. These are the consequences 🤷♂️ suck it up buttercup”
It doesn’t help not knowing the proper way to handle a relationship. The only thing you know is blind anger and passive aggressiveness from your dad to your mom. The only way to cope is to escape in some way or another. I’ve tried, I’ve tried doing the exact opposite and giving everything I have for the other person, and yeah, they may have been abusive but in the end we worked things out and benifited from it. We were all just stupid kids dealing with our own personal demons. But my parents drove me away from them and forced me to end the relationships. Now I’m almost terrified to stay because I feel like I need to escape before I have a complete mental breakdown from all the past fuckups constantly haunting me. I can’t do relationships at this point in time. I just can’t. But I can’t leave either. I’d feel too guilty putting my own needs or wants before someone else’s.
I’m so fucking tired. I just want to be left alone.
#trauma#long post#please dont take this down#long rant#emotional#i need to be alone#parental abuse#parents#angry rant
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Finding Love on the Citadel – Chapter 1: The Good Housewife Morty
AN: Since most of the stuff that I write in this fandom is rather dark, I wanted some fluff for a change. So, I brought that up to my muse who was then all like "Sure! Just leave it to me!" and thus this story came to be…
Warnings: Rick/Morty (Cop Rick, which is my OC Cop Rick and not Rookie Cop Rick x Housewife Morty), humor, mutual pining, a little bit of angst/emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff and smut (this chapter is still sfw though…I think…mostly…)
Summary: "Hey, I give you a solid advice." Rick B-64 grinned at him. "If you want your Rick to fuck you, all you have to do is strip naked, kneel before him and beg to suck his cock."
Finding Love on the Citadel – Chapter 1: The Good Housewife Morty
A police car stopped in front of an apartment complex.
It wasn't one of the shabby apartments, but also not one of the luxurious kind.
Officially, there wasn't anything like classes on the Citadel, but this apartment building was for the middle class.
The door on the passenger side opened and a Cop Rick got out, briefly thanking the other Cop Rick in the driver's seat for the drop off.
"See ya tomorrow." He bid his good-bye before he slammed the door close again and the car drove off.
He made his way up to the third floor and reached the door to his apartment.
Fumbling a little with the keys he finally managed to unlock it and enter into his home sweet home.
"Oh, welcome home, Rick." His Morty greeted him after he took a seat in the kitchen. "Dinner's almost done. How was work?"
The boy stood at the stove and cooked something while wearing a frilly white apron over his yellow t-shirt and blue jeans.
"Y'know, it was work." He groaned a little.
At his grandson's frown, he began to elaborate and talk a little more about his day even though he didn't really feel like it. "It was just the usual. Had to chase a thug today for almost five blocks. The little fucker… And tons of paperwork. Just…the usual…"
Morty looked a bit worried at how tired his Rick sounded and went over to the table. "Do you want to eat first or do you want to take a bath?"
For a moment Rick only looked at him before he commented, "Wow, way to take the cliché role of a housewife there, Morty. Did you practice these lines?"
Morty frowned again. "No. I just want to help, Rick."
"Y'know, you'd be helping if you stopped being like your father and finally get a job. Not that my job doesn't pay good enough, but I can't be the only one providing here. Other Mortys work, too, you know?"
"The Job Assignment Center still hasn't called me back." The boy tried to defend himself.
The Job Assignment Center was exactly what it sounded like. It was the office that assigned all the Ricks and Mortys on the Citadel to jobs fitted for them based on their qualifications.
Or, so they say at least…
"Well, can't blame them. I'm sure they're having a tough time finding any place for you to work at after all the jobs that you've been kicked out of. Maybe if you wouldn't fail at everything you could keep working somewhere, too."
"I don't fail at everything!" Morty protested, but he knew that it was true.
He lost all of his previous jobs because he had messed up in one way or another. Most of the time, he had been just too clumsy like at that one place where he worked as a waiter and dropped the tablet, which was laden with plates full of food.
Maybe, if his employers wouldn't all be so strict, throwing him immediately out after one mistake and would give him a chance, he'd be able to keep a job longer than half a week.
"So, you're not failing at everything, huh Morty? To me it smells like you just messed up dinner now."
"Oh no!" Morty shouted, as the smell of burned food reached his nose, too, and he dashed back to the stove to put it out.
"I'm sorry, Rick." He said mournfully as he looked at the burned food in the pan.
And that after he had wanted to surprise his Rick with dinner when he came home from work.
"Whatever. Just gonna order a pizza. Tastes way better than any shit that you would have made anyway." Rick commented as he stood up to order said food.
"Okay. I'll run you a bath so that you can take it till the food arrives." Morty said, sounding hurt as he trudged into the bathroom.
The boy let the tub fill with warm water and added some bubble bath while he sat on the edge.
He wished he could do a little more for his Rick.
A blush rose up on his face as his thoughts unwillingly drifted to taking a bath with his grandfather together, soaping him up and massaging his stiff muscles with no barrier of clothes between them.
Willing these thoughts away again, he thought back on his mistakes. It wasn't like he was messing up on purpose.
He wanted to be useful to his Rick and was trying really hard, but it seemed like it was always not good enough no matter how much he tried…
White foam suddenly started to rise in his vision which snapped him out of his thoughts and he finally noticed that he was completely surrounded by a cloud of soap suds.
It seemed that he had added too much bubble bath.
Squeaking, he tried to fumble for the tap, which he couldn't immediately find because the foamy bubbles were blocking his view from it.
He felt his socked feet getting wet as the bathwater started to overflow, too and only after many blind attempts did his fingers finally find the tap to turn it off.
"Sheesh, Morty." Rick's voice came suddenly from the door. "You really have to mess up everything, don't you? Can't even let me have my bath."
"I'm sorry, Rick." Morty apologized shamefully.
Rick only sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever…"
It was after dinner and after Morty had cleaned up the bath enough so that Rick could at least take a shower that both of them were sitting on the sofa in the living room and watching TV.
Rick was nursing a bottle of whiskey, glad that his shift was over since regulations forbid him from drinking during work – which was complete Rick-abuse by the way – and watched some stupid reality TV show with different Ricks, who all looked like some over-the-top drag queens.
Morty was less focused on the TV and instead was looking at his grandfather.
His Rick had changed in some simple sweater and pants after his shower and the boy almost felt a little disappointed at that.
He fully understood now what people meant when they said that men look even more attractive in uniform. It definitely applied to his grandfather and he really loved to see him in his police uniform.
Morty blushed a little again. There was no denying that he had developed a little crush on his Rick but given the circumstances, he couldn't even feel bad about it anymore.
After all, they were far away from earth and its social constructs and moralities.
Ever since they started to live on the Citadel of Ricks, Morty had noticed that it wasn't even all that unusual for Ricks and Mortys to be couples.
Considering that this place was solely inhabited by Ricks and Mortys it only made sense that that sort of things was just… a thing.
Still, even if it was something that was considered normal and not a taboo here, Morty couldn't find it in himself to confess his feelings to his Rick.
Of course, he knew that his grandfather lacked a moral compass like the next Rick and wouldn't be bothered by the fact that his grandson was having a crush on him.
However, Morty was sure that his Rick wouldn't return his feelings.
How could he, considering that the boy was a constant failure? Rick certainly was verbally ripping enough into him to constantly remind him of that fact.
It was more likely that he would start dating another Morty who was more capable instead of his own.
"Do I have something on my face?" Rick asked without looking away from the TV screen.
Only now, Morty realized that he had been staring. His face turned even redder. "Um, n-no."
Again, Morty felt like a complete fuckup even if he hadn't done anything this time. There was no way that his grandfather would ever want him the way that he wanted Rick.
"I'm going to bed." The elder suddenly said, whiskey bottle empty and standing on the small coffee table now.
Just as he stood up from the couch, Morty also jumped up. "M-me too!"
Rick didn't comment on it, only turned off the TV with the remote and then went to their bedroom.
Even if it wasn't the worst, their apartment was still pretty small and therefore they had to share a room. Morty didn't really mind though and if it was up to him, he would even have liked to share a bed with his grandfather.
As it was though, they both had a small bed on the opposite sides of the room.
In the beginning, Rick had even offered to let Morty have this room to himself and sleep on the couch in the living room, but the boy could convince him that it wouldn't be necessary and that they could just share it.
However, there were times when Morty would regret making that offer.
After all, how would you explain yourself to your grandfather when you were having a wet dream about him?
Luckily, for Morty though, Rick hadn't seemed to notice any of those yet.
And if he did, he had at least chosen to not comment about it…
Morty went through the local super market, his gaze switching between his grocery list and the products on the shelves, eyes always on the lookout for sales.
Since he didn't have a job, he was trying to be useful in other ways at least and so Morty would take over all the chores including grocery shopping.
He was trying to be really clever about the shopping and was one of those people, who would collect and cut out coupons in the papers and also look out for sales.
In a way, he thought that if he didn't bring any money into the house, he should at least try to spend as little as possible as compensation for it.
It would be just nice if his Rick would also appreciate that, but then again Morty didn't want to turn this into some big thing and therefore just kept it to himself instead of parading it around his grandfather.
Just as he passed by the shelf with the magazines, his eyes caught something. And it wasn't in the section with the porn mags where Mortys usually stopped and stared.
No, the magazine, which caught his interest, was displaying in bold, big letters something about a guide on how to become a perfect housewife.
Morty probably wouldn't have noticed it if his Rick wouldn't have said something about him trying to be a cliché housewife last night.
His curiosity piqued now, he grabbed the mag and skimmed a little through it…
Rick was at the police station and in a conversation with another Cop Rick – B-64.
"So, your Morty finally found a job?" the other asked.
"Nah. He's so clumsy. I actually doubt he ever will." Rick replied and rubbed over his face at the thought. "But, you know what? You won't believe this, but yesterday when I came home, he was cooking dinner and drew me a bath. Acting like a little housewife."
"Hah. That's cute. Wish my Morty would do that for me sometimes."
"I don't know, man. I'd be more happy if he stopped acting all weird and just finally find a job to keep himself occupied…"
A Morty Cop who was B-64's partner and sitting right next to the two Ricks had listened in on the conversation and decided to butt in. "Hey, I think there is more to it than you're Morty just wanting to help out in the household. I mean that, too, yeah, but I think he might have some ulterior motifs, you know?"
"Huh?" Rick was confused about this. "What do you mean with that?"
"Ulterior motifs. Pretty big words for a Morty there." B-64 mocked.
Cop Morty K-7α1 pouted at the remark, but answered, "Well… I mean… I had thought about trying this, too, for my Rick, you know. I mean the housewife-thing. But since it doesn't seem to work on you, I know that I can safe myself the effort…"
"Hey, I give you a solid advice." Rick B-64 grinned at him. "If you want your Rick to fuck you, all you have to do is strip naked, kneel before him and beg to suck his cock."
K-7α1 frowned in disbelieve at that. "…You're trying to pull my leg, right?"
"No, no! I'm serious. Gotta yet to meet a Rick who has been able to say no to that." Cop Rick B-64 said with such a wide grin on his face that the Morty still wanted to think that he shouldn't believe that, but was obviously confused.
Rick meanwhile had blocked their ongoing conversation completely out as he wondered if his Morty really was trying to hit on him.
Nah, the boy was just an innocent little dork. He couldn't possibly do this on purpose...
As Rick came home in the evening, he found Morty in kitchen, standing at the stove, cooking dinner and wearing a frilly apron again.
The big difference this time was that that was the only thing that he wore.
"Welcome home, Rick!" Morty turned his head around and greeted him while still stirring whatever he was cooking in the pan.
Rick sputtered at the sight, his face a bright red color. "Wha-wha—WHAT IS THIS?!"
"Huh?" Morty looked down at himself, blushing a little. "This is called 'Naked Apron Cooking'."
"I can see that! What I want to know is wh–" Rick was interrupted by the sound of an alarm as he sat himself shakily down in one of the kitchen chairs.
The alarm came from an egg timer.
"Oh! The roast beef is done!" Morty announced and quickly turned off the oven before grabbing a pair of oven mittens.
Rick had just started to nurse a bottle of Henessy as the boy opened the oven and bend down to take out the roast, causing the police officer to spit his mouth full of whiskey all across the table from the sight that he got.
"Jesus! Morty! Put some clothes on!!" He yelled as he embarrassedly covered his eyes.
The boy looked at him disappointedly after he put the platter with the roasted beef down. "O-okay, Rick."
He turned off the stove and removed the pans with the potatoes and the sauce in it that were now also done cooking, lest they end up being burned again.
Grabbing an empty plate, Morty said, "At least let me serve you the food first—"
"No! Put your clothes on now, Morty!" Rick said while pointing a finger in the direction of their bedroom.
The boy flinched at the tone and looked hurt as he put the plate back down and went to get dressed in his usual clothes.
By the time that Morty was dressed again, he returned to the kitchen to see that Rick was already busy eating.
He grabbed and filled a plate for himself before joining his grandfather at the table.
Cutting off a bit of the meat and trying it, he asked, "Is it good?"
Rick grunted while he kept aggressively eating. "It's okay, I guess."
He didn't spare his grandson even a glance, practically ignoring him.
Morty had thought after the first bite that he did great and it was certainly the best that he had ever cooked, but Rick's words – and the gruff tone in which he said them – made it taste like nothing in his mouth.
Slow and almost numb, he continued to nibble on the food that he had spent hours on preparing…
Rick sighed as he sunk into the bathwater.
This time the bathroom wasn't a complete mess. The floor wasn't wet from the tub overrunning with water. There wasn't a monster-wall of soap suds, but a tolerable amount of it on top of the water. Heck, even the water temperature felt perfect, Rick had to admit.
Also, it smelled like Morty had bought a new bubble bath.
The scent was actually pretty nice and the water also felt slightly different. Smoother, maybe? If he had to guess, it was probably some sort of bathing oil.
It wasn't unpleasant though and Rick was able to really relax like this.
"Rick? I'm coming in now." Morty suddenly announced from beyond the door.
"What? Morty, if you have to use the toilet, you gotta wait till I'm done!" Rick shouted.
After all, the boy could have gone before Rick got in. He was the one who drew him the bath in the first place and who had told him to go in and he was also the one who would always complain when Rick came in to take a piss while he was in the shower. So, he really should respect Rick's privacy a bit more!
Those were the words that he wanted to throw at the boy when he entered the bathroom, but as Morty came in completely naked, they had all evaporated into thin air.
"Whe-whu-wha…?" He was at a complete loss for words.
"I just wanted to wash your back. And give you a little backrub so you can relax better." Morty said shyly with a blush on his face while avoiding looking into Rick's eyes.
Rick finally found himself capable of speech again. "I don't need your help to wash myself! It also doesn't explain why you're nake— not wearing any clothes!"
"Oh, c'mon, Rick. Can't you just let me do that for you?" The boy pouted.
"F-fine. But only if you explain to me what's going on here." The old man gave in, the sight just being too cute for him to say no to.
With a smile, Morty practically skipped over to him.
"Y-you really should put some clothes on though, Morty." Rick commented before he felt the soft small hands on his back.
Morty ignored those words and tried to massage his grandfather just above the shoulder blades in slow circles, but found that he couldn't reach him all that well from where he knelt next to the tub.
"Rick, I can't reach you very well like this. Can you scoot a little over so that I can get in with you?" He dared to ask.
Rick sighed, but answered, "I'm only letting you do this because you're gonna end up catching a cold if you keep kneeling there naked like that."
He made some room for Morty to slip in behind him and the boy didn't waste a second to get in.
Again, he put his hands on Rick's back and began to rub, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he had been daydreaming about doing this just the last evening.
"Are you gonna tell me what is up with you today now?" Rick asked slightly impatient even though he was starting to relax under the boy's ministrations.
If it would have been physically possible for him, Morty would have blushed even more than he already did now.
He honestly felt embarrassed about telling Rick, but remembered that he only allowed Morty to do this in exchange for answers so there was no way around it.
"Well, you know… I… um… You've said something about me acting like a housewife yesterday, remember?"
At the affirmative hum, he continued. "Well, when I went grocery shopping today, I saw a magazine in which stood how to be the "perfect housewife" and I thought that… maybe if I tried the advices from the magazine that I… well, just wouldn't mess up so badly anymore…"
Rick frowned at the explanation. While it was true that Morty hadn't epically screwed up this evening like he usually did, that weird housewife magazine sounded awfully suspicious.
He heard the boy grab the bottle of body wash and leather his hands up as he thought about how he should tell Morty that he was misunderstanding what was written in that shady-sounding mag.
Morty took his sweet time with lathering up, but just as Rick started to wonder about it, he felt skin contact on his back again. It wasn't just a pair of hands this time though.
No, Morty was rubbing with his entire torso against his back – heck, he thought that he could even feel the boy's wiener.
This made him abruptly break the contact and stand up in the bathtub.
"Goddammit, Morty!" He turned around and looked down at the boy who sat sprawl-legged in the tub. "You've been getting the entirely wrong idea with this, Morty!"
He took a shaky breath and was thankful that the soap suds were covering the center of his body as he continued. "This magazine and this entire stupid guide is obviously meant for women. Are you a woman, Morty? I mean sometimes I'm not entirely sure about that myself, but when checking between your legs I'd say you're not."
Morty was ashamed and closed his legs, realizing the kind of display he made.
"And second of all, this is meant for married couples! Which we are not! So, just stop acting like a moron now, get out here, put some clothes on and start behaving normal again dammit!" He said while pointing to the door. "I-I just hope that you didn't plan on getting weird with me tonight because the guide had a section about sex, too, that you read."
"N-no, I didn't…" Morty tried to defend himself.
Of course, the guide had a section dedicated to better sex, too, and he had seen it, but he hadn't really dared to think—well, at least not dared to read that yet.
He surely wouldn't have even dreamed about doing that with Rick… not tonight or anytime soon for that matter.
He really thought innocently about this whole thing even though taking a bath together was pretty bold.
"I-I'm really sorry, Rick." He apologized with his head kept low as he got out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel on the way out of the room to wrap it around himself.
Morty stood in front of the full-length mirror inside of the bedroom and looked himself over.
He wanted to think that he actually looked pretty cute in what he wore, but thinking what Rick might say to him if he saw him like this made him self-conscious.
After all, he had tried so hard today to not mess up and do everything right and like it was written in that magazine, but Rick still got angry with him.
The man had made it pretty clear what he thought about the advices that Morty had read through the entire day.
He still would have like to try though…
With a critical gaze, he looked down at himself.
He wore a baby blue negligee. The top part of it was white and lacy while the part below it was see-through and open in the front.
It came even with a gown that was also baby blue and see-through that could be worn over it.
The only thing that made Morty feel a bit uncomfortable about it was the equally blue and see-through thong that was also part of the set, mostly because it wasn't really hiding anything of Morty's "best part".
Unfortunately, he didn't have anything else that he could wear to this outfit. His tighty whiteys would look absolutely ridiculous in this combination.
He frowned and was sure that Rick would only made another crude remark if he were to see him wear this.
Just as he was about to slip out of the sexy nightwear and put on some normal pajamas, he heard Rick groan loudly.
So, he grabbed the gown and threw on it quickly before checking on is grandfather.
"Rick? What's wrong?" he asked as he peeked inside the kitchen.
Rick stood in front of the fridge and closed it with a sigh. "We're out of beer."
He turned around to look at his grandson and gaped.
"I'm sorry, Rick. I forgot to buy it when I was grocery shopping." Morty apologized, not really registering how Rick was looking at him since he felt too ashamed of himself for forgetting that. "I'll go and buy some real quick."
"Uh, M-Morty. You-you-you don't have to—" Rick stuttered, but the boy wasn't listening to him.
Morty grabbed his wallet, quickly threw on a long coat and then slipped into his shoes before he was already out the door.
Rick could only look after him with wide eyes and an open mouth, a blush still grazing his cheeks.
The twenty-four-hour super market was luckily just down the street so Morty didn't have to walk for long.
He grabbed a few bottles of the beer that he knew his Rick drank sometimes in the evening and then made his way to the cash register, which was thankfully empty.
The Cashier Rick seemed to be in a rather bad mood and greeted him very gruffly.
Still through the short exchange, Morty was friendly to him and smiled.
It seemed to warm the cashier up quickly as he didn't sound as gruff anymore when he handed him back his change.
"Here you go, kid."
"Thank you. I wish you a nice evening." Morty said and then left.
"Thank you. You, too." The Rick answered and actually smiled.
He watched briefly after the cute and friendly boy and then shook his head to himself, still smiling.
Morty hurried to get back home, but he hadn't gotten very far as suddenly a figure stumbled out of an alley and right in his way.
It was a homeless Rick. His thinned out, long, greasy hair hung past his shoulders and he was dirty, his clothes reeking strongly of urine, alcohol and other unpleasant body odors.
"Hey-hey, Mort. M-Morty." He came towards him, as if they knew each other personally, cornering the boy against a wall. "You-you're a good boy, Morty. You— 'M sure you've got some bills for your good old grampa. Right, Morty?"
Morty felt uncomfortable. He didn't want to give this Rick any money – he knew that he wouldn't just accept some loose cash anyways – but backed up against the wall as he was, he couldn't just run away either.
Most homeless Ricks were usually harmless, but some of them had the tendency to get aggressive fast and the boy hoped that he wasn't dealing with one of them.
"Wuz that you have 'ere?" The Rick slurred as he peeked inside the brown paper bag that Morty was clutching against his chest.
Examining the glass bottles inside a bit more closely, the Rick asked, "Is that beer?"
"Y-yeah. I-I've been buying it for my Rick." Morty stuttered and hoped that the other might leave him alone if he knew that his Rick was waiting for him.
The boy could already feel his heartbeat accelerating and he felt like he was close to hyperventilating. Feeling a panic attack quickly creeping up on him only made him more nervous and his grip on the paper bag tightened as he fought a losing battle in his mind.
"What a lucky Rick he must be to have his little errand boy make his errands." The Rick smiled and revealed that he had barely any teeth left inside his mouth. "But you should know that I don't drink this shit! S-so, just give me your money."
"N-no!" Morty protested, but obviously just words didn't help much in his current situation.
Too impatient on waiting for the boy to just hand it over, the homeless Rick was searching for his wallet. Without any warning, he practically ripped the coat open, intent on checking the inside pockets for valuables but stopped at the sight that revealed itself to him.
It was only now as Morty was exposed to the slightly chilly air that he suddenly remembered what he was wearing underneath his coat. Or, lack thereof.
"My, my, my. What do we have here?" The Rick's tone suddenly changed as he stared with a lecherous smile at what he had found. "You wanna be a real good boy for your grampa, huh Morty?"
Morty didn't like the tone in which this Rick spoke to him nor his weird smile or that stare. This sight had been meant for his Rick and only for his Rick. No one else.
As the bum suddenly started to reach out for him with grabby, dirty hands, his brain short-circuited.
"NO!" he shouted and like a reflex, he kicked the Rick between the legs right in the balls.
In the moment of shock, he also raised the bag and hit Homeless Rick on the head. Some of the bottles were shattering and the beer seeped through the paper bag and on the bum. The glass shards from the broken bottles might even pierced through it and cut the man, but Morty didn't pay him any more attention as he fled, running as fast as he could.
Rick walked into the hallway as he heard the entrance door and saw Morty leaning against said door, empty-handed. He lifted one side of his eyebrow at the sight, not really noticing that the boy was panting and trembling. Still trying to recover from the panic attack that he had just been through thanks to his unfortunate encounter.
"What is this, Morty? You leave the house to go and buy beer and then return without it? Leave it to you to mess up something as simple as buying something to drink."
"I-I'm sorry, Rick. I'll go to the Morty Mart in the other district and buy you some." He said, not able to suppress a sob.
Rick frowned and walked up to him, stopping the boy from opening the door as he had already turned around to leave again.
From this up close, he could see clearly that the boy was shaking and about to cry and he was sure that Morty wasn't acting like that because of his stupid remark.
"What happened?"
Morty looked briefly into his eyes before biting his lip and averting his gaze. His eyes were glossy from unshed tears and he was debating whether he should tell him what had really happened or just tell him a lie.
Remembering that Rick was able tell when he lied though, he decided to just explain what went down.
"I-I had already bought the beer and was on my way back home when a homeless Rick stopped me and pushed me against a wall. He wanted my money and then he opened my coat and saw what I wore and then he got suddenly all weird and he-and he tried to—" Morty couldn't continue and his tears finally broke loose.
He was sure that he didn't really need to explain further for Rick to understand.
The only thing that he was waiting for now was that his Rick would tell him that he had it coming for being so stupid to leave the apartment in those clothes. Telling him that this was what he deserved for being so dumb.
The words never came though.
Instead, he found himself wrapped up in the arms of his grandfather who held him tightly to his chest.
Morty hugged him back with all his might, sobbing openly into his sweater.
"Did he hurt you?" Rick asked, but Morty only shook his head, still refusing to let go.
After he had calmed down a little, he pulled back from Rick's chest. "I know this was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have put these stupid clothes on in the first place. I'm gonna go and change now."
He had pulled out of Rick's embrace and already started to unbutton the coat, revealing the sexy lingerie underneath.
Rick couldn't help but stare at Morty's body. "I-I don't think it's stupid. It-it-it looks good-it looks good on you."
The boy looked up at him with big eyes. "Really? You think so?"
"Y-yeah." Rick continued to stutter unintelligently. "I like-I like the color."
Well, that was kind of a no-brainer. Blue was Rick's favorite color and that wasn't a secret or anything. Morty knew that, too.
And that wasn't even what he actually meant to say.
"You look-um… you look cute in it." He admitted and couldn't tear his gaze away from the sight.
Morty smiled at that. "I'm really glad that you like it. I didn't really want anyone else but you to see me in this." He blushed as he said the last part.
Before Rick could reply anything to that, Morty yawned widely.
The police officer chuckled at the cute sight. "Okay, I think we should head to bed. It's gotten late."
Morty agreed with a hum and a nod of his head and both went into their bedroom.
They went to their respective beds and Rick pulled the sweater over his head before he made the mistake and peeked over to Morty's side.
Dumbstruck he just stood there shirtless and watched Morty cast off one soft layer of clothes after the other.
As the boy was completely naked, he looked over and saw that Rick was staring at him.
Rick blushed bright red but still couldn't look elsewhere.
"Rick?" Morty asked and walked over to him, still butt-naked.
He came so close that Rick jumped a little backwards only for the back of is knees to hit the edge of the bed so that he fell down to sit on the mattress.
His mouth went completely dry as he saw Morty kneel before him.
"Rick, can I—"
**"If you want your Rick to fuck you, all you have to do is strip naked, kneel before him and beg to suck his cock."**
"Yes, you can!" He blurted out too quickly before Morty could even finish his sentence.
"Really?" Morty smiled so brightly at him that Rick felt like a monster to agree to it.
"S-sure. W-whatever you want, Morty. Really." And Rick meant that like he said it.
For a moment, they only stared at each other before Morty cocked his head and asked. "Well, aren't you going to take your clothes off?"
"Y-ye-yeah! Sure thing, Morty!"
He stood up again and hastily pulled off his pants and boxers.
Now both being as naked the day they were born, they looked at each other again.
Morty still smiled so innocently up at him that Rick had to swallow audibly.
"C'mon. Lay down already, Rick." Morty said and almost laughed at the stupid expression that the other made.
"O-okay, Morty."
Sure, on the bed would be more comfortable for both of them. That much was obvious.
Rick didn't say anything as Morty turned off the light.
The boy was a shy virgin and even though Rick wasn't a fan of sex with the lights off he'd let Morty have this for now.
However, as the boy crawled in bed with him, covered them both with the blanket and turned to face away from him, he became confused.
"G'night, Rick." Morty whispered.
It was only when the boy's breath quickly evened out – signaling that he had fallen asleep – that Rick realized what Morty had wanted to ask of him.
He had wanted to ask if they could sleep together in one bed… naked… apparently… for whatever weird reason.
What Rick didn't know was that this was also part of the guide that Morty had read.
'Really great going, you fucking pervert!' Rick mentally chided himself.
Now he had to deal with a cute, naked boy in his arms and an insistent erection that refused to die down and no way to get rid of it without waking Morty up in the process…
AN: By the way, about the thing that Rick B-64 said – I hadn't planned to make it come up again later in the chapter but it just worked so perfectly for the scene even if he had been only meant as a dumb joke.
Part 1 of Citadel Cops in Love
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part 2 of Citadel Cops in Love: A Morty’s Kinks
oneshot
Part 3 of Citadel Cops in Love: A Rick’s Jealousy and Possessiveness
oneshot
Part 4 of Citadel Cops in Love: Some Things Will Never Change
oneshot
Part 5 of Citadel Cops in Love: An Unlikely Duo
oneshot
Part 6 of Citadel Cops in Love: One Rick’s Happiness is another Rick’s Sadness
oneshot
#rick and morty#ram#rnm#rickmorty#rickorty#rorty#rick/morty#oc ricks#oc mortys#cop rick#housewife morty#mutual pining#hurt#comfort#funny#angst#romance#fanfic#fanfiction#hopesfanfictions#citadel cops in love
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some apartment stuff!
- by far the most time-consuming thing we’ve had to do so far was to scrub literally every flat surface in this place, walls and ceilings included, twice because apparently the previous owners a) smoked like goddamn chimneys and b) didn’t quite Get the part where you’re supposed to, y’know, properly wash the place before you hand over them keys :) it’s okay though, my parents were here this weekend to help me out and now it smells a lot less like stale musty ass cigarette smoke in here! (my downstairs neighbour also smokes a frankly staggering amount but I don’t really mind that incidental smell so much -- if anything it’s a happy, safe smell I associate with my grandfather, it’s just the constant ‘passive smoking by way of the ghosts of cigarettes past’ aspect of it being in my own apartment that bothers me.)
- having a dad who’s an electrician/all round handyman who’s got the experience of almost single-handedly renovating our family home from barely-above-a-ruin to an actual nice place is a blessing. (also a blessing just in general, even if the one thing that can drive him to slightly surly annoyance is putting together IKEA furniture lol I love my dad very much) the previous owner fancied himself a handyman, so it’s good to have someone to help me fix all the weird little fuckups he’s managed here. it’s all cosmetic rather than anything really dire, thankfully, but who the fuck just slathers silicone sealant on the baseboards like it’s icing on a cake and leaves clumps of it there??? also we’ll have to repaint all the walls because someone did a shoddy job last time and a few of the walls is a strange desaturated pink that manages to look like it’s maybe the colour a nicer shade of subdued red turns when it’s been dead for a while. even that can’t make the apartment seem less airy and light and it’s all easily fixed though, so it’s all good
- my internet speed is so much better it’s actually absurd. I went from trickle to a thundering river and I don’t know what to do with so much raw power. I can watch a youtube video and it won’t stop to buffer every other minute??!?! witchcraft???!!?
- I’m plantsitting for my mum for the next month or so while they’re on holiday and it’s convinced me that I need All The Plants in here, it makes the place feel so much livelier and less lonely somehow? (got my fucked up should’ve-died-but-clung-on-to-life-like-a-bitter-motherfucker orchid with me too, it’s my baby)
- started listening to critical role and loving it so far! (I’m only up to midway into episode four of season two; these things are so long?? I love it??) my reasons for not doing it sooner was a) something about the grey zone and ambivalence of the actors being there as themselves as well as their characters at any given time squicks me out, which is easily lessened by only listening to the audio podcast so I don’t have the faces, b) season one seemed to just be so much stuff I was getting a headache just considering where to start but now there’s a season two and I can get on closer to the beginning! and c) I was really worried it would squick me out to listen to mcree’s voice actor for so long (listen... my brain knows actors are not their characters and it’s fine and good but some part of me still gets reeeaaaal uncomfortable when I watch them outside of that role I’m attached to? not true of all actors, of course, seeing as I watched literally every david hewlett movie I could get my hands on for a while there, but as a related example I can’t even listen to a joe flanigan interview without squirming and wanting to wrench out of my skin *shrug* it’s just a thing) thankfully it’s been pretty okay on that front, the only times he’s sounded mccree-ish was for some of the random guards and I had to wriggle uncomfortably in my seat a little while but then it was over and it was back to being okay. anyway I love all my new children but I love molly and his weird faily charmingly uncharming ass the most (like he’s basically a con man who used his fake psychic act to exasperatedly tell some farmer with a cough to go to a doctor not a fortune teller & his love for his found circus family is so sweet and natural what a legend)
- I think I’m going to go start exploring the area tomorrow! I actually really like getting my bearings in a new place and that little burst of pleased recognition when you realize how it all connects together. it’s still quite rural-feeling in some ways -- there’re fields and some farms and shit you can see if you stand turned to the right on my balcony, for example! -- but crucially it has things like grocery stores within walking distance and public transit, which handily beats where I lived before ha ha
- planning to experiment with food now that I’ve only got my own tastes to cater to (and also to try to save some money lawl), so I’m going to buy some dried legumes in bulk and learn how to properly prepare them and maybe make something with tofu? (I’m not a real vegetarian, I just find most types of meat bland and uninspiring and I love beans and chickpeas and stuff so y’know why not play to my strengths here and make a fuckton of vegetables + lentils or whatever for protein)
- I’m sorry if this is completely incoherent, it’s half past one in the morning here and I’m so tired I think I’m seeing a separate dimension, I’m going to bed now haha
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venting
The last few days have been really bad, nervous/anxiety-wise, probably due to going down on both Percocet and Viibryd at the same time. Meanwhile, massive fuckups have happened with both multiple medication/pharmacy/doctor things and with my stupid home health care place, who is supposed to be helping me with my anxiety and providing people to take me to doctors but is instead forcing me to write daily, sometimes multiple daily emails to them begging for someone to help me.
So I just had to write to the supervisor, after being told that not only was my shit that I’d been begging for not fixed but that also my case manager will be gone for the next 11 days and I could CALL the office--me, who has made it clear that I can’t make phone calls--and had to say I need a different case manager. Cuz, you know. It’s so EASY for me to tell someone that their employee is sucking and BEG for someone to fucking help me. Yep, really worth the money we’re paying for them to help me with my anxiety.
Meanwhile, my new psychiatrist, who I switched to solely to get decent medication prescriptions from instead of constant fuckups from the old office--who also doesn’t take insurance--flat-out told my insurance handler (bless her soul) that he does not track what medications he sends for what patients to what pharmacies “because that would be a lot of work.” So now I get to schedule a new appointment with a new psychiatrist, go through the $500 1.5 hr bare-my-soul have-breakdowns tell-all and make my partner take a day off work, just to see if THEY will deign to fill my scripts. ever. at all.
Why is this so hard? Why isn’t this...just...fuck, doctors can handle this, why can’t these people?
I step back and it seems like there shouldn’t be anything wrong with me, that I should be able to work. When actually I spend like 6 hours a day doing this kind of shit, making calls and emails and texts and begging for help from multiple providers and trying to manage my meds and get meds and deal with the constant drumbeat of anxiety and try to do chores around the house and manage the money and provide some emotional support for my family, and yeah. I guess I see why I can’t work right now. Not to mention that my concentration is shot. I can’t read fic for more than about 10 minutes before I bounce up and have to do something else. This is new and bad.
I’m so, so tired. So tired.
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The line has been crossed
I'm officially done with everything. If I could go back in time like 4 years maybe I'd be happy. Things were actually good then. My life was on track, I had a really good group of friends, and everything at home was perfect. I'd give anything to have that again. Now I just want to put a bullet between my eyes everyday at least once a day. I really just wish someone had some fucking empathy for me and actually cared about my feelings and emotions and what's going on in my fucked up brain. No one does though, yet they all wonder why I can never tell them what's wrong. NEWS FLASH: when someone is saying their sad or upset or whatever the fuck, dont just push their feelings to the side and act like they are over reacting or their problems are "not as bad". You're just going to make it 100x worse and then still not do anything about it. I honestly just want to feel loved, needed, and wanted and I rarely ever do. I'm just really tired of trying to put EVERYONE before me. I'm literally destroying myself. For fucks sake I'm a recovering heroin addict if that doesn't explain destroying myself then I don't know what will. I really don't want to get back into that shit to be honest either, but I can only take so much stress, let down, put down and whatever the fuck else before snapping and completely loosing control and that's what I'm most scared of. I know it's going to happen again, I think about it every day. How I know one day I'm going to fuckup because I'm not going to be able to handle everything going on around me. I know I'll loose my shit and the dope will make its way back into my nose and into my veins. It's one of the worst feelings to have stuck in the back of your head eating at you every day. What makes it even worse is when the people you thought loved you and cared about you treat you like a completely different person. Trust me, I get I made my mistakes and they just have to be on their toes to make sure it isn't happening again, but these constant reminders are what's going to make it happen again. The constant accusing me of going out and buying drugs or using them even when I'm with said person all day or when said person can track my iPhone. I can't even have a runny nose without being asked if its drug related. The constant reminder about how I fucked up your whole life because of my drug problem is even worse. Yes you drove me to pick up a decent bit of the time. Yes you let me George, and Mike do drugs in your car not knowing if it was going to mean a trip to the hospital by ambulance. I will forever be sorry that I got you involved, but there were so many times I tried to tell you no but I couldn't enforce it because then I wouldn't see you and I didn't want that either. It just really hits hard when I hear you telling everyone how much it fucked you up and this and that and you have PTSD over it. Like, even if it is true, it hurts way more than you'll ever know. I could never tell you though, there'd be some reason as to why it didn't actually hurt me and I was over reacting. I'm just really sick and tired of feeling this way. I honestly don't know how much more I can take. I'm starting to freak out in my own skin everyday, having multiple panic attacks everyday (ones that NO one knows about because my problems are never bigger then what's happening at that exactly moment so I can never talk about them) crying almost every day. I just wish someone would ACTUALLY understand and take the time to try and understand.
I mean fuck I don't even know where I'm going this anymore I can't even think straight. I guess point is, I'm FUCKED up in the head and really don't care where my life is headed anymore or if it even goes anywhere but 6 feet under.
Just want people to see that I'm trying, trying EVERYTHING I can. Trying to be extra careful about what I say and or do. I just want to make the people I care about happy and the one I care about the most, of corse he is the least happy. I'll never be able to fix it though. I can't even talk to him about it with it. He just thinks I'm trying to attack and take over. He always thinks I'm talking shit to him or something of the sorts when in reality I'm just trying to have a normal people conversation and just socialize with you.
Idk I give up. I can't even keep my eyes open. I'm over crying. Over feeling like a little bitch.
Time to lay in bed and get stoned as shit while falling asleep to Trailer Park Boys. Maybe I won't have these thoughts tonight.
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In stressed by a lot of things that would all need their own post and don't wanna so here's a list - new job, possibly not fast enough? Very tired. 2 hour time shift for when I get out of work. Anxiety - just ate a fourth of a pretzel bag snacking even tho I knew it would make me not hungry for dinner at the right time - the desperation and hopelessness as I watch parts of my country descend into a quicksand pit of racism and atrocities while having no concrete way to stop it and knowing nothing I say will change the minds of the believers - at a loss for anything to do wanting to eviscerate the fools who are decent people but voted for trump because of morals and scream blame at them for the catastrophes that they were sure would not come. A weird toxic mix of I told you so and how could you doom us all? - feeling isolated from my friends cause we have all been very busy but then seeing them post about going to yoga and getting food together - wanting to draw specific things for conventions but not trusting the items will be popular enough for profit. Then having the age old, profit or liking it when making art? Battle - because of the time shift I am going to have to do a weird juggling act tot get my shots during the week. - wishing I could just be in a shipping position at my new job so I didn't have to deal and could be paid what I was making at the old one - trying to figure out when to call businesses that close when you get out of work and are probably out for lunch when you are - trying to figure out a time to go to the bank and deposit the con money and realizing because of the time shift I can't till my first day off -feeling shitty for taking off Labor Day weekend for fanexpo but they knew and were warned so idk why - I want to make banana bread and veg but I have a commission and should probably try to get a new print made for fanexpo and grcc - not trusting any of my relationships cause hey okay anxiety I guess all of that needs to be questioned rn And just to even this out and visually remind myself I'm not a constant fuckup Things I did well this week so far: -started a new job and made it through two days - made sure I was hydrated when I started feeling shitty during work - mailed out an order within 24 hrs of it being made -realized I could use my lunch break to mail out a commission I didn't finish in time at the convention and found out there's a post office two minutes away from work - was proactive and emailed the Boston con about resigning for a table next year (and got it in) Well that seems small in comparison -lays down-
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