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our-time-is-now · 1 year

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September 13, 2019 (2): Surgery-playlist (part 3/5)

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Attention! This play includes transgender topics. For more details see our interjection.

PART 3/5

(...)

Matteo: *listens to the song and thinks about how nice it was to come back to the flatshare after Heidesee and being completely alone with David* *but also thinks that the dinner afterwards was really great and that the mix is probably really good* *but also thinks that they have really hit the jackpot because their friends are soo good at accepting that they also need time for themselves*

ca. 11:06 am: David: Alright… since we were just talking about it… *he sounds slightly annoyed* That was my sister. She wanted to remind me that I still wanted to go shopping… okay, that’s really a thing… Would you consider me unreliable? Or unreasonable!?

Matteo: *shakes his head*

David: Okay, apart from the binder situation on our holiday… I mean, I usually manage everything quite well, don’t I? I was - apart from my blackout after the outing - always at school regularly and on time, I took care of applying to uni in time, I managed to get through all the crap with the applications for the mastectomy and the official name change. I somehow manage to get by with the money I have at my disposal… I’m usually polite and punctual and reliable and attentive. And sometimes I’m really annoyed when Laura treats me like a toddler! And sorry, but I think that it got worse since we’ve had the prospect of moving in here and since we’ve been living here. As if she’s scared that I somehow wouldn’t fulfill my duties or that I’d somehow be noticed in a negative way in some form… *sighs* Or do you remember Mia’s party when she stole the alcohol!? I mean, even if it /wasn’t/ about the fact that I’m not supposed to drink so much because of the testo and instead about the fact that I shouldn’t drink so much in general… is it her job to remind me? She’s only 23 herself. Shouldn’t she also have fun and be young and do stupid things every now and then instead of patronizing me!? I know she doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but it’s really annoying! Sometimes she acts more like a mother than a sister. And then I’m also annoyed at myself. Because I have to pull myself together so much to not actually act like an annoyed teenager toward his mother! It used to be completely different in the past. We had a completely different relationship. And I also understand that she somehow felt responsible when I suddenly showed up in Berlin at her doorstep. And I’m really grateful for everything that she did for me during that time. But I’m doing better! And I can manage! And I feel like she somehow doesn’t really see any of that because she’s so focused on her role. And the thing is: She can be different! Do you remember when she came in the day before yesterday and said she’ll only check in with me on Sunday because I’ll surely be insufferable all weekend long when you’re not there!? Last night she was completely different again. Then she really asked me how I was doing and that she can understand that it’s unusual and hard for me and said that she’s actually happy for us that we feel the same about that and that it’s not one of us that’s suffering from yearning while the other is partying… And this morning she was also okay… And then from one minute to the next she’s somehow stupid again. *you can hear him sigh and being quiet for a moment* Oh man… I’m sorry that I’m taking it out on you now. That’s somehow not a really good topic for a recording like that. We should actually talk about that in person… But sometimes I really wonder how us living together will work in the future… *a brief pause again and a sigh* I just want us to go back to being normal siblings again… and that she doesn’t feel responsible for me. After all, I don’t constantly meddle with her life, either… *you can hear him grumble* I think one day, I really have to talk about this with her properly… one day… when I’m not mad anymore… *you can hear him taking a deep breath* Well, I’ll go to the bathroom now, and then it’s almost time for you to call me. *you can hear him smile* And then I’ll go shopping, so that I have it over with and Laura won’t have anything to complain about and then I’ll talk to you here again. And tonight the boys will be there, but you already know that. Consider yourself hugged very tightly - right now during your seminar but also in the park on your bench! I’m thinking about you! Later! Oh - almost forgot: You should have finished the cocoa by now and you might still be thirsty… Time for package number 7… but now I’ll really leave! Have a good one, tesorino! (there’s a small bottle of apple juice in the package)

The more or the less - When we happen to collide Selig - Ich fall in deine Arme

Matteo: *unpacks the juice and smiles* *opens it and takes a sip while he thinks about the Laura-problem* *thinks that as an only child he might not be able to judge it very well and that they should really talk about it* *picks up his phone and texts David* Memo to ourselves: Talk about Laura… I think it sucks that she annoys you so much, that’s not how it’s supposed to be

ca. 11:20 am: David: Hey, na? I’ve had a shower by now… and we talked on the phone… that was very nice… *you can hear him smile* ...and I went shopping. Now it’s almost 3:30 and you’re still busy all afternoon. I’m not… because the boys will only arrive around 7. I hope that they won’t forcefully try to cheer me up or anything… then this surely will be embarrassing. *sighs quietly* And now I’m sitting here missing you and so that missing you won’t be so bad I’ll better tell you a few more things… I really just made the effort and sorted the songs I picked a little bit and put them into an order with the tracks I recorded and realized that we’re almost at half-time now. So if you’ve reached this spot, then we’ve already managed to get past 2 hours and about 20 minutes - which on the one hand is pretty cool, but on the other hand also means that I still need 2 hours and 40 minutes recording and I therefore have to hurry a little.

Matteo: *checks the time and sees that he’s pretty much correct and that it’s almost 11:30* *takes a deep breath because this basically means half-time*

David: *you can hear silence for a moment and then hear him change the topic* Hmmm… over the last few days, actually the closer the surgery got, I have been thinking a little bit about first times… because I’m looking forward to so many first times after the surgery… going outside without a binder for the first time, for example… the first time not having to think about how much longer I can wear it without it being unhealthy… *laughs quietly and murmurs* And, of course, also about the first time having sex without a condom… *a short pause again* I’m looking forward to all the new first times with you… but I haven’t only been thinking about the time after the surgery, but also about the past… Do you even realize how many first times we’ve already had together, Matteo? I don’t only mean first times each couple has together, like the first kiss or the first time… we had a few very special first times, I think. Although I actually think that every first time with you is special - no matter if it’s the first time that I woke up in the morning and you made me coffee. Or the first time that we fell asleep arm in arm - we even had that twice. The first time after our kiss and the second time in the pool. No, that’s not true… almost 3 times… well, 2.5 times… there was also that one time when I came to your place in the evening and I actually wanted to tell you that I’m transgender… and then didn’t manage to get a word out. *you can hear him swallow* Somehow I keep suppressing that evening… it was so damn difficult. And you were so great and understanding that I wasn’t able to say anything and that only made it more difficult. *you can hear him sigh quietly*

Matteo: *didn’t really notice tears welling up in his eyes and quickly wipes them away* *thinks that he wasn’t really that great, but that it’s typically David that he already found him great even though he hadn’t done anything*

David: Well, but I think this first time only counts half. We didn’t fall asleep arm in arm, but I woke up in your arms… And somehow all of those first times of falling asleep and waking up together were all different. During the first one, I was so nervous and at the same time I felt so comfortable. During the second one I was just desperate and thought I’d lose you if you knew. And during the third one you finally knew. You knew that I am transgender and you didn’t care and nothing was between us any longer. That was so incredible. And then there’s also the first time when we fell asleep together in /my/ bed… and the first time in a tent… and the first time on the beach… and in the car… in your grandmother’s house… in a hotel room… *laughs* There are so many first times just falling asleep… how sick! I’m sure I forgot a few… but you know what I mean. *brief pause*

Matteo: *thinks about which ones he forgot* *remembers the time when they were at Bea’s and David’s parents and the first time falling asleep on the sofa and then stumbling into bed overtired* *smiles slightly when he remembers David clinging onto his neck*

David: I’m trying to remember what my very favorite first time falling asleep together was… although all of them were nice… even the time in this weird hotel in Genoa… but I think my very favorite one was the one after our first time. Because that was when I somehow really realized it… *laughs* ...yes, I’m a little slow… I know, we’ve already been together for a day at that point. But in the pool… no idea, that was also great… but somehow still so unreal. We… or I… I don’t even know if you felt the same… somehow I was still in this kind of safety bubble… like in a hiding spot after a natural catastrophe, you know?

Matteo: *thinks about how at first, David didn’t want to leave and also about how strange it was afterwards in the flatshare, how insecure he was, and also about how hurt he was when David was so insecure about them* *but also remembers what David has said about him and all the things he did and how good it felt to hear it* *thinks that this was actually also a first time* *pulls his phone out again and texts David* I remember that you didn’t want to leave the pool and how insecure you were at the flatshare. But you know what else I remember? Your awesome speech to me about what it was that I did for you. That was somehow also a first time, wasn’t it? The first compliment-speech you gave me or something. Regardless, it’s a nice memory <3

David: Back then, I didn’t really realize this thing with the two of us… only once we were outside again… in reality, where everything somehow went on as usual and when we saw other people… and when we were at the flatshare and afterwards when you were in my room with me… then all of this slowly got real… and then as a culmination the sex with you… that was another thing that made me realize: All of this is really happening! You really want me! In every way, you now? You want to be close to me in every way… You’ll stay with me even if I show weakness. You’ll stay with me even though my body doesn’t look the way I want it to… You won’t just stay with me only in this safety bubble at the pool but also here in reality… I think I only understood and realized this that night, and I think I’ve never fallen asleep this happy in my entire life! *sighs and clears his throat*

Matteo: *thinks that he always wants to be with him, that he always wants to give him this feeling of safety* *smiles slightly when he realizes that this thought doesn’t scare him at all*

David: And with our first kiss it’s similar. Only that both our first kisses happened in the pool. The first first kiss was exciting and sizzling and… somehow also some kind of risk for me, because I had no idea where it would lead to. And the second first kiss was… just wow. Somehow unreal, but then also so real. I remember that I could hardly believe it that this was happening to me. I could hardly believe that you still wanted me - and still want me after all the crap that I did… This kiss was also exciting, but very different from the first one. Much… more safe and… somehow more hopeful, because I knew that we can build onto this first kiss… because I was able to look forward to what’s to come and no longer had to be afraid that you don’t want me, after all. *smiles lightly and you can hear his smile while he continues* If I think about this now, then we didn’t only have two first kisses, but quite a lot of them. Just like with falling asleep… We also had a first kiss in front of others - first in front of my sister and then in front of your friends… *laughs quietly* ...and then in front of the entire year… We had a first kiss in public in front of strangers… and the first kiss in a huge crowd in Venice… the first kiss on St. Mark’s Square… the first kiss on the other side of the Canal Grande and so on. And a first kiss after our first… “semi-fight” - back then on this old playground after I learned of the thing with Jonas - and the first kiss after our first “real fight” in Heidesee… Oh and of course our first kiss in the lake… *laughs quietly* and under water. And in the ocean! And in the rain. Do you remember? During that crazy thunderstorm in summer? Wasn’t that our one-month-sex-anniversary? Now we’ll already have our 4-month-anniversary this week! Wow… so many first kisses… *laughs quietly* ...and we had a first kiss in the snow! And in August, to boot! I don’t think that there are many couples who had their first snowkiss in August… Well, I guess we’re special! *sighs quietly*

Matteo: *smiles when he thinks about all the kisses* *briefly has this idea of making a list of their first kisses, the ones they already had and the ones they still want to have* *but isn’t really in the right headspace for that right now and postpones that*

David: And I don’t really have a favorite kiss! I like all of our kisses! *you can hear him drink something and then continue* Okay… what other first times did we have? The first time I met your mother… and the first time you met my parents - although I really would have loved to spare you from meeting my father… oh man, I never would have thought that I’d introduce them my boyfriend… and the first time you met Bea, of course. And I met your grandmother and Philippo… Those first times were also somehow pretty special. I don’t know, but somehow meeting the people that mean something to the other person makes you feel a little bit like you’re a part of their life, right? *hesitates*

Matteo: *nods slightly and briefly has to think about his father and how he might have reacted to his outing and to David* *thinks that his reaction might even have been pretty cool* *but also thinks that his father has given up on him, that he didn’t fight and that therefore he doesn’t want him to still be a part of his life*

David: Well, if we leave my father out of it - but even that was somehow important, wasn’t it? I thought it was important for my parents to see… oh man, this sounds really stupid now… but that they see that someone other than my sister and Bea can love me the way I am… and I also thought it was important that you meet them so that you can understand a little better why I haven’t tried to have more contact with them so far… and why I left. Somehow… I don’t know… I like stories from your past, anyways… but I also like it when you learn more from my past… somehow that explains quite a lot… why we are the way we are, doesn’t it? So this is why I like those first times… because with that, we basically let each other a little bit further into each other’s life… and in our pasts. *is quiet for a moment and then laughs quietly* Oh man, I could go on like that forever… with our first times… do you even care? If not, then it’s too late now, anyways, because I somehow still have to fill 2.5 hours. You’ll just have to suck it up… *laughs* But so that it won’t get too boring, you’ll get one or two songs now, okay? See you later…

Tom Odell - Grow Old with Me Bright Eyes - First day of my Life

Matteo: *has to grin a little when he hears the second song, because that’s actually Jonas and Hanna’s song* *but thinks that it suits them, as well*

ca. 11:40 am: David: And I’m back… You know which first time I found pretty special? Although… no, actually it was more than one first time… *laughs again* No, well actually all first times were pretty special… but some of them were more special than others. *gets a little more serious again* What I found special were all the first times that not every couples has… like the first night at your place without a binder. I remember how nervous I was and how uncomfortable I felt at first. And that’s another time where there were two first times… the first first time I took it off at night in the bathroom and didn’t tell you about it. To be honest, now in hindsight I haven’t go the slightest idea what I was thinking… why I didn’t just talk to you… *laughs quietly* Okay, we’ve only been together for such a short time and maybe back then I simply thought that we might also spend nights apart from each other and that somehow I could still postpone talking about it… I actually only remember being in pain and that I just wanted to get rid of the thing. And you know me - that’s saying something, if I voluntarily want to take it off in the presence of others. What was going on then? It was definitely an exhausting day… Oh, I remember… it was the day I had my PE exam in the morning, and then there was the Abi-prank and then the party… and on the days before, I was wearing the binder almost non-stop, as well… anyways, I still remember that I felt embarrassed and awkward and I was really yearning for you to hug me, but that at the same time, I couldn’t allow that. Then I pretended to be really tired and to already be asleep when you came back from the bathroom… *sights quietly* And youuu… of course you noticed and you asked google and you asked me about it. And that’s how it led to my second first night without a binder and this time, you knew about it. And I still felt embarrassed and awkward, at least at first… but somehow it was so important for all the nights that followed and for everything else that followed. *laughs quietly* Well, and actually there was also a third first night without binder… and without shirt. At that point I already felt a little less embarrassed, but still pretty nervous. Do your remember? That was this really hot day where you could somehow barely move without being soaked in sweat. And we put up Hans’ kiddy pool on your balcony. And at night, when we were lying in bed, I was really yearning to be close to you, but it was still so warm. *laughs quietly* And you suggested cutting holes in my shirt so that I wouldn’t be so hot…

Matteo: *laughs slightly* *still thinks that it was a pretty smart idea he had*

David: *you can hear him smile* I still remember what a sick feeling it was that there wasn’t anything between us anymore, no shirt or binder… and because of this feeling and because you always were so great and understanding, I could forget about this stupid dysphoria a little bit… And with each time it got a little better and a little less embarrassing and uncomfortable. I only have that with you, Matteo. That it feels normal to be the way I am. That nothing has to be embarrassing or uncomfortable… *smiles again slightly* ...not only when it comes to the trans stuff… but also with everything else. On Thursday night, when I was almost about to cry because we were facing this stupid Voluntary Year weekend, I knew that it would have been okay… somehow… oh man, okay, I’ve never cried in front of you… and actually… I always want to be strong… but I also know that I’m allowed to be weak in front of you. And that is… no idea. Good somehow, isn’t it? But that’s also one of those things that has developed. I still remember when I got the letter from the insurance that they will cover the costs for the mastectomy… back then you also said something along the lines that I’ll definitely have to tell you when I’m in pain. Well, that I should relax and don’t overdo it afterwards. And I agreed, of course… but on the inside there still was this feeling… that I don’t want you to worry unnecessarily… okay, I still don’t want that… but back then, I also still thought to some extent, that I have to be strong and want to be strong and that I… no idea… don’t want to be a burden to anyone. *sighs quietly*

Matteo: *really hopes that David has put this behind him, at least to some extent* *doesn't think that it’s good if he’s always strong or if he feels like he always has to be strong* *hopes that David really means it and that he knows that he can also be weak in front of him*

David: And the other day, when we talked about the mastectomy again and you said once again that you want to know when I’m in pain, then I promised you and I knew that I would be able to keep that promise. Because you don’t think I’m weak… and because you want me to be honest with you. And sure… I don’t want you to worry… But I also want for you to be able to trust me. I don’t want you to ask yourself if I might be putting on an act… because that would also cause you worry. And I think… well, if I should be in pain then the fact that we’ll talk about it might already make it better. That I’ll tell you instead of pulling myself together, I mean… and that you can be sure that I’d be honest with you if I really couldn’t bear it anymore and if I needed a doctor or something like that. *pauses for a second to remember how he even got to that topic and then says*

Matteo: *nods at everything he says and really hopes that David knows that he can tell him and that he only wants him to feel good and that he wants to contribute to that*

David: And it’s just the same vice versa… at least I hope so. I think it’s pretty nice that you trust me enough to talk about your fears with me… or about things that bother you… Well at least partly… I think… I hope… *laughs quietly* Oh man, I just feel like you trust me. And I want you to know that you can trust me. That there’s nothing that you think or feel that would lead to you being any less important to me, okay? Or that I’d think worse about you because of anything that bothers you… or that I’d think you’re weak or anything… on the contrary. To me, you always are and will be the best…

Matteo: *swallows slightly and briefly considers texting him that he doesn’t trust anyone as much as he trusts David* *but then thinks that this is something that you should say in person when the situation fits* *still hopes that David knows and feels that this is the case*

David: *you can hear him grin while he says* This is somehow really unstructured… I hope you won’t mind. I was actually talking about our first times… the special ones… the ones that not every couple has… For example, one shouldn’t think that for a couple it’s something special to go swimming in the lake for the first time… but for us it somehow was. Because before that, I hadn’t been swimming for such a long time. And because I never would have thought that I’d ever be brave enough before I had the surgery… Well… and then you came along… and I really urgently wanted to really be underwater with you… really in the water… and somehow it was another first time where you were more important than the dysphoria… *grins again slightly* ...and even without a binder… and later even without a shirt. And of course the first time swimming with the swim binder in Heidesee - and the first time swimming with others… I probably never would have dared without you. And all our first conversations… about the surgery, about testosteron, about dysphoria, about us as a couple. *laughs quietly* And the first time you got me a pillow after the testo shot so that my butt wouldn’t hurt as much. The first time I realized that you’ll go all this way together with me, back when I received the letter from the health insurance.

Matteo: *grins slightly when he remembers the pillow* *also thinks that this is something that will still be there after the surgery* *but hopes that his care in this situation is good and that it makes it a little easier for David*

David: Sometimes I still can’t believe it that in a week from now, I’ll already have the surgery behind me… or from your point of view in probably two hours’ time… Unbelievable! And when I think back, then it still seems unreal to me that you’ve been there the entire time… the entire rest of the journey since May… it’s so nice that I didn’t have to go this last stretch of the journey on my own. And I’m already looking forward to the moment when I wake up after the surgery and you will be there. And to the moment when the bandages will come off for the first time. This will also one day be a part of the list of our first times: The moment we see my chest the way it’s supposed to be for the first time. I’m so looking forward to all the other first times with you… I think there will be plenty ahead…

Matteo: *tries to imagine what David might look like after the surgery* *has seen photos on the internet, but somehow has trouble applying it to David* *thinks that for him, it doesn’t really matter and that he simply hopes that everything will go well and that David will feel comfortable with it*

David: *you can hear him smile* ...our first Christmas… our first New Year’s Eve… *you can hear him grin slightly* ...our first plant that we buy together… and… everything that’s part of it. *you can hear him exhale* Okay, what other first times did we have that not every couple has… *laughs quietly* Me coming out to your mother, for example. What other couple has to come out to their future mother-in-law… And of course sex. *you can hear him grin slightly* I mean, okay, each couple has sex for the first time, eventually, but our first time was still special! *laughs again quietly* That’s probably also something that every couple says about their first sex… but… *gets serious again and takes a deep breath* I don’t know, I think what I found so special was the fact that you didn’t turn it into anything special… that sounds stupid somehow, because I know that it was also special for you, but for you, it was special because of /me/. And not because I’m trans. Do you know what I mean? I worried so much beforehand. Not only when I met you and fell for you, but also before that. What it might be like. If I’d even find someone who accepts me the way I am. Who will also accept my body even though it’s so hard for myself to accept it. And then you came along. And you didn’t question anything whatsoever, you just accepted everything and acted as if all of this were normal, or that my body was normal.

Matteo: *thinks that David really is absolutely normal in his eyes* *hates it that society has any standards for what a body is supposed to look like and that so many people feel bad because of it* *plans on telling David how hot he is more often*

David: *is quiet for a moment and then says quieter* I think I’ve never been as happy in my entire life as I was in that moment. You… somehow made all my doubts just disappear. Well not all of them… but really a lot of them. *sighs quietly* And I think you can generally say that all of those first times that not every couple encounters were so special for me because you made them so special because of /me/ and that the fact that I’m trans was entirely secondary. And before all of those first times I was so insecure and scared and nervous. Back then, I somehow couldn’t really understand that you really don’t care. We haven’t been together for that long at that point… and I kept being a little scared that you might eventually realize that this isn’t what you want… that you… I don’t know, either… That it might get too much for you and too complicated with me. And even though in our everyday life it somehow felt as if we had already been together for an eternity, because we were so familiar with each other and so many things were so easy and natural for us, I was still really dead afraid in such moments. *hesitates briefly* I was scared that you might eventually realize that you’d rather have… I don’t know… a boyfriend with a… more manly body. That it might suddenly bother you, after all, that I don’t have a flat chest or that I’m missing something down there between my legs. That all of this will get too complicated for you… with my doctor visits, my dysphoria… sometimes I’m still a little scared. But really very rarely… *pauses for a moment and then quickly adds*

Matteo: *only shakes his head and really hopes that he no longer has those doubts*

David: I hope you know that this had nothing to do with you. You did the right thing so many times back then… and you still do… with everything, really. I really couldn’t have wished for better reactions. You never urged me. You gave me time. You went even the tiniest step with me. All this insecurity that I felt, it never had anything to do with you, and only with myself. And all those first times that the two of us had together, they weren’t just first times between us - for me, they were first times in general. No one’s ever seen me without a binder before. No one’s ever touched my like you. No one’s ever been as close to me like you! And I realized only much later that all of this was also new for you! That surely you must have been just as insecure as I was. That maybe you didn’t know how to act with me, either. And now, when I think about it in hindsight, then I realize that back then, we might not have been as familiar with each other as we thought we were… there really were still a lot of insecurities back then - which is somehow logical, because for both of us all of this was completely new. But if I compare “back then” with “now”, then we’re definitely a lot more secure… also with new topics… *laughs quietly* Although it’s somehow sick to talk about /back then/… oh man, it’s only been four months… four months, Matteo… and it’s so sick how much my life has changed since then - how much /our/ life has changed. How much you have changed my life… now we even live together here in this room. You have started your Voluntary Year, I’m having my surgery and then I’ll start university. Soon we’ll have something like a real everyday-life together. I mean, of course it sucks that we’ll see each other less because of that. And that then there will also be things such as the seminars for the Voluntary Year or the surgery and the hospital stay that separate us for longer than necessary… but I don’t know… right now, I’m quite optimistic about all of that… *laughs quietly* Maybe because I have talked so much about us and because that made me realize once again how lucky we are that it’s going so well between us… *gets serious again*

Matteo: *swallows slightly but thinks that he’s right* *also thinks that it’s gotten more secure because of their holiday and them living together, and that it’s somehow more natural in a good way* *really hopes that it will stay that way and that they’ll just keep growing closer*

David: But right now I just think that we can do all of that. I mean, sure, I was already aware before this that we can do that. But that we won’t just manage it somehow and instead we’ll manage it really well. And to some extent I’m already looking forward to everyday life with you… to the messages that we’ll send each other in between and the moments when we finally see each other again in the evening after work or after uni… when we can be close to each other again and tell each other about our days. That will be a big change… but… I know that it’ll be good. And even though our lives will somehow change I still hope that we’ll never change. That it’ll always stay like this between us. I’ll take a short break and get myself something to drink… and you’ll get a few songs again. I hope you’re doing good! Later!

The Fray - You found me Mikroboy - Solang der Mut den Zweifel schlägt

ca. 12:08 pm: David: Alright… well according to my calculations it should now be a little after 12… we still have a few more minutes and I’d like to use them to conclude talking about the first times… *laughs quietly*

Matteo: *also laughs quietly and checks his phone* *can see that he’s right and that it’s 10 past 12*

...to be continued...

(next play)

#Druck #druck og #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi #davenzi plays

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xyztrio721 · 2 years

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Heads Up: This may be the darkest post I’ll ever make on here.

I don’t know if this post is going to get me in trouble somehow, but there are a few things I want to get off my chest.

Before I begin, I would like to give a trigger warning/content warning for emotional abuse, threats of physical abuse, and suicidal thoughts.

So I’ve come to the realization that my mother may have emotionally abused my older brother and I when we were kids, and I think she still abuses us as adults. I’m not 100% sure if any of the information I’m going to provide will be substantial evidence of emotional abuse, so I decided to make a post to see if anyone can confirm or deny that any of these points are a sign of abuse.

Point #1: When my brother and I were kids/teenagers, we’d regularly bad mouth/bad talk our mother. You know, typical kid/teenager stuff. And you know what her response was 8-9 times out of 10? She’d threaten to slap us in our mouths and/or put soap in our mouths.

For the record, she never acted on these threats, but she said this so often that to this day, I’m afraid that she’ll one day follow through with her threats and hit me/my brother.

The only, and I mean only reason she doesn’t threaten to slap us that much anymore (yes, she still threatens to slap my brother. She did this either at the end of May or earlier this month) was because my father had to tell her to stop threatening us. As for the soap in the mouth part, she only stopped saying that because I put liquid hand soap in my mouth myself to get back at her for threatening to put soap in my mouth. Yeah, I did the deed for her, and let me tell you, liquid hand soap does NOT taste good.

Point #2: I believe there was one time during our childhoods where our mom threatened to not make dinner for us if we didn’t help her take care of her farm animals. And she that because we told her/clearly showed her that we did not want to help her take care of her animals.

Now if any of the animals belonged to my brother or I, I can understand her frustration towards us for not wanting to help her take care of them (still doesn’t excuse what she said, though), but like I said, these were her animals that she bought for herself (she probably claimed and would still claim that the animals are family pets, but in reality, she’s the only one who wanted/wants to get them). And how many animals did she have at the time? Around 10-20 of them if you combined the total number of rabbits, the total number of chickens, and the total number of dogs she had.

Keep in mind that she only did this once, but I still think it’s extremely fucked up to threaten your kids with no dinner if they don’t help you with something, especially if they’ve made it clear that they do not want to help you.

Point #3: As previously stated, our mother would have us help her take care of the animals, but we did not enjoy this whatsoever (we do love the animals, but we don’t like having to take care of animals that aren’t ours, and still don’t like doing that today), so we’d try to tell her that we didn’t want to help. She did not take “no” for an answer. She didn’t try to hit us or anything, but she’d get angry if we told her “no, we don’t want to help take care of the animals”, and basically forced us to help her by telling us that the animals need to eat, drink, and be let outside. Yes, mom, they do need to eat and drink, and they should be allowed to go outside if it’s safe to do so, but they’re your animals. You wanted them, and we didn’t, so we shouldn’t have to be forced to help you. If you wanted to teach us to be responsible pet owners, you could have done it in a much better way like, oh I don’t know, asking us if we wanted to get a pet and going forward from there, not forcing us to take care of your fucking pets every single day?!

This has to be some form of guilt tripping/manipulation. It just HAS to be.

It got worse when I developed a fear of germs/illnesses after an incident with a stomach bug when I was 12 (I didn’t go to the hospital or anything, but the experience was so unpleasant that it traumatized me. I still have a fear of germs/illnesses today, but I have gotten a lot better at keeping my anxiety under control). She still wanted me to help her, and she told me that I was making excuses when I told her that I didn’t want to touch the animals or anything in their cages (or at least I think she did, but she must of, because my brother started saying the same thing to me around my late childhood to early teenage years. I think she made him believe that anxiety was an excuse to not do anything for someone, even though that is 100% a false statement.)

And you want to know something that may be more fucked up than that? I live in New England, where temperatures in the winter can drop in the negatives in the early morning and at night, and I get cold very easily, and she Still. Made Us. Help Her. Even when there was ice on the ground. She got mad if we tried to tell her that we didn’t want to go and help her because it was cold out. At least she told us to be careful not to slip on the ice...

Oh yeah, and she would make us help her in the summer too, even when temperatures would rise up into the 90s and 100s (in Fahrenheit), which is very possible in New England and in my state. If we tried to tell her that we didn’t want to help her because it was hot out, she’d get angry at us.

Point #4: When I first began to show signs of anxiety/an anxiety disorder, and whenever tried to tell her that I was scared/nervous about something, she’d tell that it was all in my head. She doesn’t say that anymore, but that’s because she switched to telling me that I was making myself feel that way.

And she stills says that to me sometimes. She said that to me several times when I was a teenager, and she still says that to me now that I’m an adult.

And if that isn’t shitty enough, whenever I would start crying because I was scared about something such as failing a test or going on stage to perform in a concert with my school choir, she’d tell me to stop acting like a baby.

And she still says that to me from time to time. She said this to me when I got nervous about my Clinical Hematology final exam last month.

Yeah, she pretty much insulted me when I was a kid, and this wasn’t the only thing she would say to me. If I tried to tell her what was bothering me, she’d sometimes tell me “whining isn’t going to solve anything”. I WASN’T WHINING YOU FUCKING BITCH. I WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU WHAT WAS BOTHERING ME. I KNOW I COULDN’T CONTROL 99% OF THE THINGS I WAS NERVOUS ABOUT, BUT YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BE AN ASSHOLE ABOUT IT.

Sorry, that statement just pisses me off, and like the “stop being a baby” comment, she still says this to me from time to time today.

Going back to when my brother and I tried to tell her that we didn’t want to help her, she often called us lazy because we didn’t want to help her. She tended to say this about my brother more than me, but she’s called me lazy in the past as well. Hell, she did this to my FATHER, and STILL does this to him, all because he doesn’t want to help her take care of her animals. She still calls my brother lazy too, and often complains about no one wanting to help her when she goes out to take care of the animals by herself.

I’m pretty sure she’s completely unaware of the fact that no one wants to help her because she doesn’t ask us nicely, and never took “no” for an answer when we told her “no” back in our childhoods.

This last part may not be a sign of abuse, but two of the nicknames she gave to me as a kid were “shenanigans” and “shenany ganany”, both of which were based on my real first name. I say that this may not be a sign of abuse because I don’t recall telling her to stop calling me that, nor do I think she did this in an attempt to insult me, but she’d call me either one of those two nicknames fairly often. i don’t think she calls me either one of these anymore, but I’ve decided that I dislike both of these childhood nicknames, so if she does it again, I’ll try to tell her to stop and see what happens.

Point #5: My mom would regularly brush off any and all mental issues I had when I was young, as evidenced by the things I mentioned in Point #4. The only time she even tried to care about them was when I would tell someone at school that I wanted to kill myself, and even then, all she would say in response to me saying things like that would be “stop saying that, or they’ll take you away from home” (she says this because apparently, my school did consider calling someone to take me away from her and my dad).

She still brushes me off, too. Fairly recently, when I tried to tell her that I hated myself (I have very high levels of self-hatred that go as far back as when I was a kid), she told me I was being silly, and then walked away to let the dog in. She did not come back to talk to me about my self-hatred. She just went into the living room and sat down to watch TV with the dog.

She says that quite often, by the way, that I’m being silly/ridiculous when I try to talk about my dark thoughts with her.

Point #6: Like the last part of Point #4, I don’t know if this counts as a form of abuse, but my mom basically tried to cram her love for animals down my brother and I’s throats, even when we showed little to no interest in animals. Evidence can be found in Points #2 and 3. I bring this up because recently, my mom told me that she was surprised by the fact that I wanted to become a medical lab technician because she thought I would’ve wanted to be a veterinarian.

Now my question to her is this: When the fuck did I EVER say that I wanted to be a veterinarian, and when I have EVER showed any form of interest in animal medicine? I was offended by this, because I’m convinced that she tried to encourage me to become the very thing she failed to become: a vet.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought my brother would’ve wanted to become a vet, and is surprised that he’d rather work with motor vehicles instead.

I’m sure I’m missing a few points from this post, but I’ve been writing this for 2-3 hours now, and I really need to get ready for bed. If I remember anything else, I’ll come back to this post and add them here.

So, what do you think? Are these signs of emotional abuse?

P.S. Please let me know if I need to add anymore trigger warnings/content warnings to this post and the tags. The last thing i want to do is trigger bad memories in anyone whose been through a similar situation.

P.P.S. I’ve never acted on my suicidal thoughts as a kid or teenager, and still haven’t as an adult. I do not plan to commit suicide anytime soon.

#tw// emotional abuse #cw// emotional abuse #tw// threats of physical abuse #cw// threats of physical abuse #tw// suicide #cw// suicie #tw// suicidal thoughts #cw// suicidal thoughts #a lot of tw and cw tags I know #but I do not want to trigger anyone #if anyone wants to know what our current situation is #my brother now lives with my grandmother (and my grandfather prior to his death)#but our mom will regularly call him to ask him for help #and if he says no she calls him lazy or claims that he's making up excuses #I still live with my mom and dad #and I'm scared that I'll never get away from my mom #and if she did abuse me as a kid #I'm afraid the abuse will continue as long as I'm still here #thank god my dad is trying his best to help me #he's the only responsible parent in this situation #as evidenced by the fact that he pays the bills but my mom has never helped him with them ONCE #and she technically doesn't pay for groceries either #she pays for them using food stamps #all she spends her money on is her truck and animals #and that's it #in fact she spent most of her stimulus money on the truck she currently has #which I suppose isn't a bad thing #but wasn't that money supposed to help families pay their bills/rent/mortgage #because she sure as hell didn't use it on that

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

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Everything Undesired chapter 10

Chapter 9

After a quick diaper clothes change, Arella was quick to join the brothers at the table, Cyrus tucked comfortably in the crook if her arm. It felt like a normal morning, albeit just a tad quieter. Whether that be due to the events of the night prior or just in consideration of the baby, it wasn’t quite so clear. She took her usual seat next to the place where Mammon usually sat and began to eat. The only one who looked even a little uneasy was Levi likely due to how he felt about having been the one to suggest last night’s movie.

They all spoke casually amongst themselves as they ate, multiple of them having to stop Beelzebub from consuming the food that had been set aside for Mammon as the demon in question joined them shortly after. It had taken him a while to find clean clothes, realizing he really should do his laundry soon. It had probably been a good two or three weeks at least since he’d washed anything. With everything going on, he just didn’t have the energy lately. Thank the celestial realm for his human helping him out with his school clothes.

All their heads turned to him as he joined them at the table, a round of ‘good mornings’ rang out and he returned them. Two asked how he was feeling after last night, the rest carried on with their own side conversation figuring he didn’t need to answer the question four times over.

As breakfast came to a close, Arella took her leave to feed Cyrus once more and Mammon returned to his room to gather up his dirty clothes and begin the process of doing his laundry. Thankfully, it was the weekend which would give him enough time to have all five of his school uniforms ready to go while also not hogging the washer and dryer all day.

“Man, I gotta start doin’ my laundry more often...” The Avatar of Greed sighs. “The amount of clothes in here is ridiculous.” He hefts the basket of clothes into a more comfortable position in his arms and carries them down to the laundry room.

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“Mammon, do you want to go shopping with me?” The Avatar of Lust chirps as he catches up to his brother while he’s working on switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer, “I need a new outfit for date night tomorrow and I’m sure you could use a shopping spree too considering you haven’t really gone out to spend or visited the casino lately. Even last night, when the three of us took the baby out, you didn’t even buy anything. You know what happens if you let your sin build up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just gimme a couple hours to get a couple more loads done. I’m kinda runnin’ outta clothes to wear.”

“Alright, three hours good?”

“Three hours is perfect.” The white haired demon says as he loaded another round of clothes into the washer. “Thanks, Asmo.”

The strawberry-blonde demon only nodded as he headed off.

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“Hey, Mams... Can we talk for a minute?” Levi asks as he approaches his brother.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes before I go out with Asmo. What’s up?”

It takes Levi a few minutes to speak. “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have screened before we watched it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Ya said you had never seen it before and wanted to watch it with all of us, right? And you were so excited ‘bout it, so it’s fine.” he shrugs.

“But it wasn’t fair to you...” The Avatar of Envy frowns. “We shouldn’t have even watched a horror movie to begin with. I know you hate them but you still watch them with us anyway.”

“’Cuz I know you all like them so I jus’ bare with it for the time being. Y’all are my brothers, so I just want y’all to have fun even if I suffer for a bit. Y’know what you always say about me, I’m a masochist through and through.” He smiles, hoping to make his little brother feel better. “I don’t blame ya, so don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?”

The third-born only nodded, feeling minimally better after finding out the second-born didn’t blame him for what happened.

He ruffled Levi’s hair as he flashed him a smile. “Alright, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too,”

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As the pair of demons walked down the street, Mammon was distracted. He was lost in thought as he thought back to the conversation he had with Arella. He thought about telling Asmo as even though Arella had told him she was comfortable with everything they had done together but he felt like she was telling him a half-truth just to spare his feelings.

“Are you alright, Mammon? You’re not as talkative as usual... Mammon?”

“Huh?” blue to gold gradient eyes look to his brother. “Yeah, I guess I’m alright. Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’...”

“Care to share?”

Mammon considers this for a few moments, deciding maybe he should tell his brother about what’s on his mind. “You can’t tell a soul about what I’m going to say, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” The demon says in a sing-song voice, “You have some good gossip?”

“It’s not gossip, Asmo. You absolutely have to promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Asmo’s eyes widened at his brother’s words and the serious tone in his voice. “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

“Arella told me something last night... She told me she was...” He’s not sure he can say it but thankfully Asmodeus seems to get the message.

“That’s horrible. How did it happen?”

“A quote unquote boyfriend drugged her drink when she was sixteen.” The demon has an irritated look on his face. “The bastard was twenty three, like who seeks out a teenager like that?”

“Boyfriend?” The Avatar of Lust has a disgusted look on his face. “Sounds more like a predator to me.”

“Right?! It makes my skin crawl just thinkin’ about it.” He exhales, “She’s such a good person and some monster takes advantage of her and does that?! If I could get a name and a face, I’d absolutely destroy him. The worst part? She blames herself for what happened, for making a mistake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asmo frowned. “Considering how the human world treats women- she may very well have been told it was all her fault- especially as a minor? I don’t know what her family was like but to end up with that mindset, it’s very possible she didn’t have anybody to for her what we’re doing for you.”

Mammon only frowned at that. “Yeah and now I feel bad for pushing so hard. She said she wanted all that but I feel like she was only sayin’ that just to make me feel better. Is that wrong of me?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so... You love her so it’s only natural that you would worry about having forced her into a situation she didn’t want. But I also don’t think she would lie to you just to make you feel better. Can you remember a time where she’s ever been disingenuous with you?”

“No...”

“Then I think you should take her words at face value. In all actuality, I think she only told you because she wanted you to know you weren’t alone and she knows what you’re going through.” Asmo smiles as he pats Mammon’s shoulder. “And if you’re still worried about it, think of it this way: As long as you had a resounding ‘yes’ at all times from her, then you shouldn’t worry about whether or not you forced her to do it. Or you could do the adult thing and actually talk about your feelings as scary as that may be.”

Mammon only rolled his eyes at Asmo’s comments.

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The pair got home later than intended. As they split up, the Avatar of Greed made his way up to his room. Everything seemed to be fine, there was no baby crying and the house seemed at peace until he got to his room. He tossed his bag into the closet and slid down the railing on his staircase. That’s when he heard it, a small sniffling sound.

“Treasure?” He called softly as he approached the bed, placing a hand on the ball of blankets that his human had buried herself under. “Hey, look at me.”

A soft ‘no’ was heard from under the blanket followed by a ‘I’m alright, don’t worry’ which had the opposite effect on him. So, he just made himself comfortable beside his mate, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. When she was ready to talk, he would listen and if the baby monitor went off, he would do all the work tonight. It was the least he could do since she practically took care of their son on her own around the clock when he couldn’t even look at the child for the first few weeks.

He rubbed his thumb over her stomach in a motion that was meant to be comforting. While not exactly what he wanted to do, their position didn’t grant him much elsewhere to rub if he wanted to keep his arm wrapped around her, he hoped it would have the same effect. They just lay together in silence for a time as her sniffles slowly came to a stop. She was so quiet, Mammon thought she might’ve fallen asleep until she moved her head from under the covers and slowly turned to him, allowing him to move his hand to her side.

“Wanna talk about it?” The demon asked as she shook her head in response. She cried regularly for others but she wasn’t much for crying when it came to herself and when she did, it was often over nightmares she wouldn’t tell him about. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. I don’t like to see you so upset and not be able to do anything to help you, Baby.” It was an offer he hoped she would finally take him up on. She only let out a sigh as she moved closer to him and he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so selfish last night...” She catches his hand in hers and just holds it to her cheek. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No...?” The Avatar of Greed wracks his memory from last night, trying to think of anytime she could have been selfish. “When were you selfish?”

“When I told you I had been assaulted...” Her response only leaves Mammon more confused. He hardly considered that to be selfish at all. She was only trying to reassure him everything he was going through was normal.

“How was that selfish?”

“I made the situation all about me when it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”

“No you didn’t? ‘Rella, Baby, you get to talk about your feelings and things that have happened to you too, y’know. Everything’s not always about me. Actually, it was kinda validating to know you understand what I’m going through.”

“No, I don’t. I just want to help but I always bring things back to me some way or another. My problems aren’t important. They’re not a big deal. I’m just attention-seeking and being selfish a-and-- mmph!”

He couldn’t take listening to his human, his treasure, bring herself down like that anymore, choosing to silence her with a kiss instead. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes, glossy from her earlier tears.

“Do you know what an amazin’ person ya are?” he asks as he rolls them so he’s leaning over her, “You get to talk about these things. Your problems matter. You're not bein’ selfish or attention-seeking when you talk about them. Hell, for somebody whose primary sin is greed, you’re probably the most selfless person that I know. You are patient ‘n kind ‘n giving. You do way more than anybody asks of ya. You give so much love and don’t ask for anything in return for it. I don’t know who the fuck put those thoughts in your head but ain’t none of ‘em true, got it?”

“It.... It was my mother....”

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Find more on my Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

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afoolnottoloveu · 4 years

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maybe i’m imagining things ♡

Summary: You don’t really feel like you belong at the BAU just yet (WC: 2.1k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral!Reader

TW: smoking, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: i dont smoke so theres highkey gonna b smth wrong with the description,,, but it just felt right okay, also it was a song reference as well >:(( also, this is for lucy’s fic contest! congrats on 3000 sweetheart <3

Song Pairing: Why Am I Like This? - Orla Gartland

You could remember the feeling, how it started that night at the bar. Despite the conversations of your new team swirling around you, you felt like a stranger. You didn’t think much of it at first, you just thought you were imagining things. You’ll grow into it, you told yourself.

After exactly a year at the BAU, you still couldn’t decisively say you were part of the family. As cases came and went, you felt the same. An outsider. A guest living with a family. You couldn’t blame them, really. As you should, right? They weren’t like this with any of the other newbies; it was you who intruded.

The last case felt no different. It was a family annihilator, and all you could think about were the victims. Unbeknownst to the team, except Aaron, you knew almost exactly what the family of the victims were going through. Your feelings were taking a toll on you, and everything from the jet ride to heading back to the office was a complete daze. Your mind was somewhere far off in the distance, only snapped back by the soft touch of JJ placing her hand on your shoulder before you could walk through the glass doors.

“Are you coming tonight?” She asked as if you already knew of what was happening tonight.

“Uh, w-what’s tonight?”

“We’re going to-”

“O’keefe’s!” Penelope squealed, running out of her batcave with the clicks of heels following.

“Oh, um-” you hesitated, but you remembered how badly you wanted to be a part of their family, and a drink didn’t sound too bad at the moment, “yeah! Yeah, I’ll just meet you guys there alright? M’gonna just grab some stuff.”

“We’ll see you down there!” Penelope bubbled, before sweeping everyone else into the elevator. You gave a small smile and wave, catching Spencer’s gaze just as the doors shut. Maybe you had learned to hide it well after all these years, but for profilers, they really had no idea what was going on inside your head.

You couldn’t help but glance up at Aaron’s office through the glass doors. Everyday you debated if the BAU was really for you, every day for a year, now. Not knowing if this was a mistake or not, you slipped through the bullpen and made a beeline for his office. Relatively quickly, you found the papers you were looking for after a quick search through his cabinets. You didn’t want to have the conversation with Aaron, but he was the only person on this floor with them. You shoved them in your purse, just in case. In case of what? You didn’t know either.

You tried to enjoy yourself, you really did, but your head was just filled to the brim with thoughts you couldn’t bear. The fuzzy, stuffy feeling of the bar would usually help you blend right in, but right now it made you sick. You excused yourself from the table, not like you were part of any of the conversations that were happening anyways, and stepped out.

Through your work blouse and slacks, the October wind nipped at your skin. You opened your purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Your habit started young, smoking being one of the only things that could effectively calm you. Your dad was a smoker, but he really tried his best to stop. He wouldn’t be proud of you for following in his footsteps, but so be it.

Placing the cigarette between your lips and lifting your lighter to the end, you failed to notice someone approaching from behind you.

“6 minutes.”

Startled, you fumbled and dropped your cigarette from your lips and it hit the concrete, causing you to loudly mutter a curse. You whipped around to cuss out whoever made you drop it, but you’re met with the same eyes you saw before the elevator closed.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer. I just lit that!” His expression doesn’t change, so you rummage through your purse pulling out the box of cigarettes once again. “And I know what that means, 6 minutes off my life for every cigarette I light.” Faced towards the street, you tried to light it, but failed. As the wind kept blowing out the tiny flame, you kept trying. “To be frank, 6 minutes isn’t a whole lot of time in the grand scheme of things. It’s like, one less shower. I could live with that I think.”

Still not hearing a reaction from him, you turn his way, naturally. He seems to be finding your purse very interesting, and for a moment you think, is pretty boy gonna rob me?, but you finally realize he can see the bold print title and FBI logo on the papers that you grabbed sticking out from your purse.

“Why?” is all he asked, his voice dripping in devastation. You look up to meet his eyes and there’s a gloss over them that you know too well. “Why would you wanna transfer? The BAU is-”

“-the crown jewel of the FBI. I’ve heard it.” You take the cigarette out of your mouth to reply. Unable to meet his eyes anymore, you fixed your eyes on the street once again, but you minded your voice, careful to not let it crack nor reveal too much, “I can’t explain it, Spencer.”

“I think you can, but you don’t want to.” The hurt in his voice was still evident and you had to wonder, why was it there in the first place? He doesn’t really care, his family’s inside the bar.

You brought the joint back to your lips and tried to light it one last time, and you successfully did so, inhaling the smoke and letting it encase your lungs like a blanket. “It’s just-” A long pause lingers in the air before you come to your senses, removing the cigarette from your lips. Blowing out a cloud, the wind carried the gray smoke down the sidewalk, with your eyes trailing. “You know what? No, nevermind. It’s nothing, Spence. I might not even transfer.”

“You wouldn’t grab the papers unless you were seriously considering it, Y/N,” he huffed, intent on finding out the real reason, “Come on, you were gonna have to tell us at some point. Why not start small? Why are you leaving us?” You were getting frustrated from the simple fact that he was right, and suddenly you were very sick of the cigarette you were holding.

“Fine Spencer, if you wanna know so goddamn bad then I’ll just tell you! I just- the BAU isn’t for me! And it’s not the job, it’s- it’s you! It’s all of you! I can’t be in the same room with all of you for anything other than a debriefing without feeling like I don’t fucking belong! You guys are a family, and I still feel like it’s my day one. If you guys can do this job so well without me, then why shouldn’t- why should I even be here?” You didn’t know when the tear slipped, but they just kept coming, and you were over this cigarette, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it a little too hard.

There was a silence. A cold, heavy silence, filled with nothing more than the gentle breeze, a couple cars passing in the distance and leaves falling. You suppressed your sobs as much as you could and wiped your face repeatedly.

Oh god, you thought, did I really just say that? Fuck, fuck, shit, why am I like this-

“If I asked you to stay,” His voice was soft- you knew your response wasn’t the one he was expecting. All you could do was glance at him, not knowing where he was going with this. “Would you?”

“What’re you talking about?” The words were a whisper, you wouldn’t be surprised if he thought it was just the wind. You genuinely didn’t understand what he meant, but in your head, you had already answered his question.

“Y/N, I--I just wanna talk, okay? Can you listen? Is that alright?” His voice was comforting, and with the way you were feeling, it was music to your ears. It reminded you of the way he spoke to children, but you were just too damn exhausted to call him out on it; so you nodded, but you kept your eyes on the street in front of you, watching a taxi pass by.

“You know, when I first asked you ‘why?’ a few minutes ago, when I was saying that the BAU was the crown jewel of the FBI? Well, that wasn’t what I was going to say at all. I was gonna say that the BAU is where you belong, Y/N. We don’t only want you to stay, we need you to stay. You were the one who talked down that unsub today. You can defend yourself better than almost any of us. You treat us like family, with the coffee every Wednesday and checking on all of us regularly. We notice these things, Y/N. Do you? Because it’s almost like it’s second nature to you.”

You had to take several deep breaths before you could gather yourself enough to respond; you closed your eyes as you spoke. “Do you know why I so badly want to be so close to all of you? My- my parents were both killed by- by a sociopath. I was 15. I started smoking then. My aunt took me in and I lived with my cousins. They were closer to each other than to me, though. I- I don’t know, I had a family, I guess. I mean, my aunt and her two daughters were my family, but- I don’t know, I’m not making sense.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know that at all, I thought they were your sisters. I get it. Well, I don’t, but I know what you’re trying to say. You didn’t have one as a teenager, but you have one now. Everyone inside of that bar thinks of you as their family. I know you don’t see it, but I can assure you that they do.”

You forgot your eyes were closed. They opened to the touch of Spencer’s hand on your arm, and there he was, standing in front of you. You wanted to cry more, but the sight of Spencer in front of you made you smile and your heart swell. You knew every word that left his mouth was genuine, full of love and understanding. You rushed forward and hugged him, burying your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head. It was almost funny, you were sure this was the most you had touched the germaphobe like, ever.

Into his sweater you sniffled and mumbled, “What about you Spencer?”

He pulled away from the hug, both of you still clinging to the other, but enough to have to look in each other’s eyes. He tilted his head as if he were asking what you meant.

“Do you- are we family?”

His only response was an airy chuckle and a swift, soft peck to your forehead. Huh, that’s new. You weren’t saying you didn’t like it though, no, not at all. He pulled you back into the hug and said into your hair “We don’t have to talk about that right now. But honestly? I think of you as something else, Y/N/N.”

And that was okay. The warmth of his breath on your hair and his sweater wrapping you neatly like a gift, it was more than okay.

Spencer led you back into the bar after you had fixed your makeup. Luckily, the wind actually helped to dry your tears pretty quickly. The team was gathered around the table, blocking something from your sight. As the two of you approached, you heard Penelope say “Oh, oh oh! They’re here! Y/N’s here!”

The rest of the team turns to you and in front of you, JJ is holding out a red velvet cupcake with a candle in it. “Happy one year!” The team cheered as a chorus. Your eyes widened and your face lit up. Your shock rendered you almost speechless.

“How’d you remember? Oh my gosh, you guys!” you smiled. With everyone egging you on, you blew the candle out, causing an array of cheers and claps.

“Honestly, some of us didn’t. But you know who did remember?” Morgan commented with a wink. You turned to see Spencer scratching his neck, smiling down at you, the look making your heart swell just a lil’ bit more.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him over with you to the table, the team clearing a spot for the two of you. Conveniently, shots for everyone had already been poured out, readily awaiting your consumption. You grabbed the shot glass and raised it towards the middle of the table.

“To family,” you beamed. Maybe I was just imagining things.

Taglist (send an ask to be added): @prettyboy-reid @eusuntgroot @veraiconcos (congrats on 3k again!)

#vicficwriterchallenge #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #mgg #mgg x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #theas originals

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bloomingundertheshadows · 3 years

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I can't get over the fact that schmico have been together longer than Amelink, Magston and Marina on station 19 who just got married in their finale. It just makes it seem grey's doesn't really have an interest in writing for queer men beyond using Jake and schmico for press.

Oh anon, little did you know, you've brought forth another one of my midnight rants. This has been bothering me for so long, and finally I can justify discussing it at length. Other people have spoken about this, but I have no life, so here we are. In short, you are correct. But, there is so much to discuss, so get your drinks and snacks ready:

What bothers me about the fact that Schmico has been together longer than Amelink/Marina/Magston is the complete disparity between how the writers portray the intimacy of these relationships. Don't be bamboozled - I don't mean sex or anything. By intimacy I mean that the writers portray Amelink/Marina/Magston as serious relationships where the characters have an emotional understanding of one another and truly carry that sense of people who know one another as partners. Obviously relationships move at different paces, but if I showed Schmico to someone without forcing them to do the math, I think most people would assume they'd been together a year at most. They fight like they are just getting out of the honeymoon phase and figuring out their boyfriend has real flaws. Quite frankly both of their behaviors (Levi constantly pushing Nico's boundaries, the whole weird ass sex buddies thing, Nico flipping out over drawers, and Levi running away ) are insane for a couple who by the start of season 17, were probably together like 2 years. Maybe I overestimate emotional maturity, but these are grown men, and you cannot convince me that these two would have made it to season 16B if they behaved like this regularly. I hate it. I hate how other couples have been together shorter time periods and get to behave like a valid adult relationship while these two are behaving like teenagers.

I've always felt Schmico existed within a pocket dimension of Grey's Anatomy - completely cut off from the rest of the cast/storyline or overall plot. I literally feel like the show stops whenever they come on screen, and we start watching this mini-show within a show. I don't know if anyone else can describe this feeling, but sometimes Schmico just feels so unnaturally placed that I doubt they are even in Grey's Anatomy.

The best way I can prove this is the fact you could place this season's schmico storyline anywhere in the season, and it wouldn't even matter. They could have had Nico ask Levi to move in with him during 17x05 or 17x06 or 17x07, etc and it would not have mattered - they are so isolated you can literally cut and paste their storyline anywhere in the season without changing anything. (I realize that technically vax guy can only appear in the last episode because of when the actual vaccine was developed, but let's not pretend he couldn't have been replaced with literally any other male character. The vaccine trial was a fun tidbit, but literally meaningless to the progression of the plot). Nothing that happens to them is dependent on anyone or anything else in the show. This wasn’t as true in S15-16A, but it is on full display now. Every once in while they get pulled into a cameo appearance in a bigger plot-line, but this has no real consequences and lasts for 1 minute at most (see Nico’s numb comments). The fundamental cause of this is poor character development and the complete unwillingness of production to make these characters part of Grey’s - but we all know that.

As a result, I truly believe the writers have some sort of temporal disorientation where even they forget how long schmico has been together. Because schmico is so dissociated from the show, it feels like the relationship is on warpspeed. Sure, a few weeks may have passed between Nico asking Levi to move in and him actually responding, but when you never see the characters in the show except for when they’re having relationship issues, it doesn’t actually feel like any time has passed. They have taken away the audience’s ability to place these characters within the show’s timeline (which is already kind of messed up to begin with). I think this contributes to the audience’s dislike of them because while other couples are seen interacting with many doctors across the hospital over multiple episodes, these two will show up for 3 minutes every two episodes and the rest of the show stops while these two get locked in an enclosed space to fight. Literally. The show isolates them to closets or on call rooms or even Nico’s apartment - if I was more meh about these characters, I’d be annoyed too that we stopped all character interactions to watch these two fight in the middle of a deserted parking lot.

This whole pocket dimension schmico is also part of the reason I think the writers struggle to figure out that they shouldn’t be behaving like this. I’m not giving them a free pass because they are part of the problem, but I doubt incorporating this side couple that only gets 1.45 minutes of screen time each week is a fun or easy job. Schmico are not woven into the fabric of the narrative, and I bet even the writers feel confused how best to write them.

I imagine the Grey’s writing room has lots of whiteboards that roughly charts a character’s plot each season. Except, schmico’s plotline is written on sticky note that Krista uses as a coaster. Once they complete the episode, someone notices Jake walking by and suddenly realizes they’d forgotten schmico. Then, there’s a desperate attempt to shove them into the story before filming begins. In the crunch, there’s no time to consider whether this makes any sense.

As for your second point about them only using them for promotion, I 100% agree. The headlines about “Grey’s Anatomy introduces first Asian male surgeon” literally haunts my dreams. I’ve spoken at length about the fact Grey’s is running on a season-by-season format right now, which I think helped contribute to this nonsense. I am hesitant to call out anyone by name because this show is a group effort, but I can’t help but feel like Jake kind of got forked. He (and Alex) put out a lot of press for Greys during Season 15, and he spent a decent amount of time talking about his storyline, and I always felt he was pretty happy with it - and Krista also spent time hyping up this storyline (Your friendly neighborhood reminder that Krista once said schmico was her favorite couple. I can’t prove it’s a lie, but I’m willing to bet my left kidney). However, they totally dropped the ball once the news articles were gone and the internet had moved onto different things. It’s pretty insulting to the actors, and I would feel pretty salty if I came onto a show where I started with a meangingful storyline only to end up here.

I have nothing too much to say in conclusion. Most of this has been said before, so it’s not like I’m adding anything new. Given how everything ended, Season 18 is looking good for both Jake and Alex’s return. While I can’t say for sure they will come back, I think that right now, Grey’s is giving them both a steady paycheck and probably good connections and resume building. Last season I was super hopeful we’d get a better schmico storyline or at least something that didn’t revolve around the same old tired plot. But we all see how that went. At the bare minimum I want to believe that the Nico’s a d*ck plot will kind of be put to rest, but they have made it pretty clear that Nico is literally at fault for everything in this relationship, so I bet Levi will be mad at him next season too.

Good thing the fanfiction is strong in the community. May you all rest well knowing you put more effort into this couple than paid professionals.

#schmico #Levi Schmitt #nico kim #grey's anatomy #asks #this is a long one my friends #I have been stewing for a while #if you are not a passenger on the salty express #you might not enjoy this

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

jdronica+I kissed you in front of my ex (also on ao3)

The 7-Eleven is hardly much warmer than it is outside, but at least it’s drier. Veronica shakes the rain out of her hair as she steps in, shaking her head like a dog and sprinkling tiny droplets over the tiles. September announced its arrival in Sherwood with grey skies and bucket loads of rain, and three days in, the downpour shows no sign of stopping. It put a little bit of a damper to show up on the first day of her senior year soaking wet (pun intended because puns should always be intended), and there’s a growing sense of anxiety among students about whether or not the rain will let up in time for football practice to start.

But, where the rain might mess with first-day plans and be a pain for football fanatics, it’s the ideal weather for movie nights. The kind that involves piles of blankets, hot cocoa, and a combination of new releases and old favourites. The kind that, funnily enough, Veronica and Martha had planned for the weekend and scheduled when the sun was still out.

Maybe the weather was on their side.

“Okay, you grab the JiffyPop and drinks; I’ll raid the candy aisle,” Veronica instructs. “I’ll meet you at the counter.”

“Don’t go crazy on the candy,” Martha warns her. “Orange soda or blue?”

“Orange, and I will go completely crazy on the candy.” Martha raises her eyebrow, a fond shake of her head, but there’s little she can do when there’s a five-dollar bill burning in Veronica’s pocket. Veronica shoots little finger guns at Martha before bouncing down the candy aisle, taking stock of all the treats on offer.

She grabs a packet of Milk Duds because they go great with popcorn and a sharing bag of red vines too. She grabs a packet of the little watermelons (Martha’s personal favourite) and chuckles as she picks up a sharing bar of Hershey’s (private joke). She drops her candy stash into her basket and is in the middle of a debate between the packets of Sour Patch Kids and the packets of chips on sale when something, or rather someone, appears behind her.

“Want a Slurpee with that?”

She only jumps a tiny bit, and she’s glad because it doesn’t show how the stranger scared the pants off her. Mostly because she was lost in her head, but still, what was the asshole expecting, coming behind her like that? She turns around, her basket still on her arm, and she has an entire rant about convenience store etiquette ready, but it dies when she sees who it is.

Jason Dean, or as he prefers to be known, JD. New kids are something of a rarity in Sherwood, Ohio, which means he’s front-page news at school. Branded The New Kid, and he’ll probably still be that at graduation. People have done their best to Make Him Feel Welcome, as Ms. Fleming brightly suggested (demanded) they do, and despite some pleasantries, no one’s quite managed to get him to their lunch table. Most of the time, he’s alone, always with a different book. He’s gone from Baudelaire to Dickens to Orwell.

Not that she’s paying attention.

“Well, hello, Jason Dean.” She leans up against the counter and gestures to the cup in his hand. “Not my thing, but if you play your cards right, you can buy me a Big Gulp.”

“Blasphemy, little miss. Slurpee is the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp.” She lets the smile linger on her lips, feels it grow wider as he turns around. He laughs it off, and she takes note of the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair falls forward into his eyes in a way that may or may not make her heart pick up.

“You’re Veronica, right?” he asks. “Veronica Sawyer.” He holds his free hand up. “Not stalking. I just sit two rows behind you in English.”

“I remember,” she replies. “Yes, it’s Veronica Sawyer.” She crosses her arms over her chest and chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “So… may I ask what brings you to Sherwood, Ohio?”

His smile falters then, the spark dimming in his eyes, and his free hand slides into his pocket. She kicks herself immediately, her with her stupid attempts at flirting and her stupid nose poking into other people’s business. This is why she only sticks to Martha and occasionally Heather Mac, and if the universe wanted to remind her, it could have done it less painfully.

“Uh, new foster placement,” he tells her after a minute. “My old group home got too crowded, and it turns out the only other place that would take a teenager with insane daddy issues was all the way across the state.”

“Oh,” is all she can find to say, for all her teachers praising her for her brains. One word, one syllable. “Well, that’s….” Cool? Nice? Fun? Interesting? Nothing is appropriate here, no matter what direction she turns in.

But then Jason Dean taps her arm, wearing a smile that’s equal parts charming and apologetic, and the smoke in her brain begins to clear.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve been a bit more tactful there,” he says. “I know it’s a bit of a wild thing to drop on someone. My tragic hero backstory and all that.”

“Well, if it means you end up leading a life of crime-fighting and protecting our town, it all works out.”

“Maybe. Not sure if I can pull off the tights and leotard.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the legs for it,” she replies, and when he bursts out laughing, so does she. It feels weird, almost familiar. Like she’s known him for far longer than three days. She shuffles closer to him, pulled forward by her curiosity.

He eyes her basket and opens his mouth to say something else, but then the little bell rings at the shop door, and Veronica lets out a soft curse when she sees who it is.

What exactly her ex-girlfriend is doing at the 7-Eleven, she can’t fathom. This was on her list of places she could most definitely keep going to regularly after they broke up, and that list is depressingly small. This is meant to be the part of town Heather Duke, or any of the Heathers don’t grace with their presence, not even Macnamara. If they divided up the assets after breaking up last month, the 7-Eleven was definitely in her pile.

Or maybe not, she thinks as she watches Heather cross the floor in her heels, loose change in her hand.

The universe just will not let her be.

Duke notices her after she does, dark eyes widening at the sight of her. Veronica’s at a loss for what to do, whether to wave at her, flip her off, or just ignore her completely. She needs to think of something soon because Heather is moving closer towards her, and the last thing she needs is a not-so-subtle reminder of how she’s doing so much better than she is.

Her brain turns off, her body going into autopilot.

Instinct says to grab the closest thing to her, and the closest thing happens to be JD.

She whispers, “I’m sorry,” just loud enough so he can hear a second before her lips touch his, and by that point, she can’t exactly back out.

She doesn’t know what’s crazier; her kissing JD or the fact he kisses her back.

His hand is flat against her back, his other one cupping her cheek. She doesn’t know how experienced he is in these matters, but damn, he’s not bad. She’d even call him good. Maybe great. He tilts his head slightly but still lets her keep control, and his lips are soft and slightly cold from the Slurpee. It’s just slow enough to make it interesting, and he doesn’t pull away when she kisses him again.

When she does pull away, Heather is far past them, her pace too quick to be calm, and Veronica smugly counts it as a victory.

That is until she realises her hands are still balled up in JD’s shirt.

“I am… so sorry,” she begins. “I just… I know I shouldn’t have, but I just needed to do something to-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Ronnie,” he says. She only blushes slightly at the nickname. “Just answer me one question.” She nods, words catching in her throat, and he points up to where Heather is. “Ex?”

“Yup,” is her meek response, and to her shock, he laughs.

“Okay, Veronica Sawyer,” he tells her. “No hard feelings.” She untangles herself from him and retrieves her basket from where she dropped it on the floor. She looks behind and finds his Slurpee sitting on the shelf, standing out amongst the candies.

She’s tempted by the Slurpee offer, after all. She needs something to stop her cheeks from burning.

“I should go,” she says. “My friend, she’ll be wondering where I am.” She backs up, her eyes unable to leave his grinning face. “Um, thank you very much. For being so understanding about… that. All of that. Uh, see you around maybe. Yeah.”

She manages to turn herself around and takes the opportunity to stop hiding and let out a silent scream. She moves to go, to run and pay for her candy, and start plan to avoid him as much as humanly possible-or change her name and flee the state, that could work-but then he calls after her, and she stops in her tracks,

“Hey!” he says. She turns to face him again, and while he keeps a respectable distance, she can still see the smile on his face, all soft angles and laugh lines, and the telltale butterflies begin in her stomach.

“You’re busy this weekend,” he says. “What about next?”

That’s the story of Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean’s first kiss.

For those who want to know, their second involves her pinning up against the wall of a McDonald’s bathroom and him breathlessly whispering her name against her lips.

#heathers the musical #heathers fanfic #jdronica #pure au jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #i wrote this over teh course of an hour and just posted it so yeahhhhhh.....#i miss heathers

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we-love-imagines · 3 years

Text

Little Secret

Valentine’s Event: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Prompt: Kakyoin + Tattoos

Ao3 Link

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’ve enjoyed my little fic collection over this past week, it was so much fun to write! I’d like to thank @magthemage for beta reading all these stories! Go read her stuff, she’s awesome!

This story in particular is an everyone lives! au, where you are a former Stardust Crusader, and you, Kakyoin, and Jotaro are all college students who enroll in an American University and share an apartment. Also, while the reader is gender-neutral, I did say they were smaller than the rest of the crusaders... sorry if you’re a beefcake! There’s also the tiniest bit of suggestiveness, but no actual nsfw. Everyone in this fic is aged up to be over 21, and please drink responsibly! Enjoy!

“Kakyoin!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arm around your sober friend’s shoulder, “C’mon, it’ll be so cool!”

“Yeah, we can all get ‘em in the same spot too! It’ll be so rad! C’mon, even Jotaro is down!” Polnareff slurred from the other side of the table, motioning to Jotaro who only gave a solemn thumbs up.

“We are not getting matching tattoos,” Kakyoin deadpanned, getting tired of all his companion’s drunk antics. It’s funny- after defeating Dio, he thought all his troubles were over. But, because the injuries he got in Egypt rendered him unable to drink, he was forever doomed to be the designated driver.

Unluckily for him, this was a rowdy group to handle.

“Kakyoin,” Mr.Joestar placed a hand on his shoulder, brushing you off of him, “We’ll even let you pick. It’s not as cool if we don’t all get one.”

“You’re all wasted,” he chuckled, looking at how all of his friends swayed, red in the face, letting the conversation wander aimlessly after way too many shots. After you all defeated Dio, you made it a tradition to meet up and celebrate the bastard’s death by getting as plastered as possible. While you still saw the others fairly regularly, seeing as you, Jotaro, and Kakyoin became roommates after high school, it was nice to have the others fly in to see everyone again.

Kakyoin watched as Jotaro and Avdol sat in silence, the former’s signature cap pulled over his eyes. They were subdued drunks, getting all quiet when under the influence. Kakyoin noticed how Avdol would turn a tad introspective after a few shots, abruptly bringing up thought-provoking questions like “Do Stands Dream?” or “Where do the clouds go after they roll by?” Jotaro, on the other hand, tended to mellow out. His short fuse stretched out a bit when he was drunk, and for once, he could take a joke.

Polnareff and Joseph, on the other hand, embodied pure chaos. Joseph would always try to instigate things: karaoke, bar fights, getting matching tattoos, and Polnareff would sing his praises and go along with all of his crazy schemes. Somehow, the Frenchman would get even louder, barking for the bartender to bring him more shots so he could out-drink everyone in the building.

Then, there was you. While you could certainly hold your booze better than others of your stature, you were no match for the hulking giants that were your fellow crusaders. So, while you kept pace with them while you were drinking, you would get shit-faced before they were feeling the slightest bit buzzed. While you were usually pretty fun and adventurous, the alcohol in your system turned that up to eleven, making you down for anything and everything.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool to get something together?” You grinned to Kakyoin, eyes wide with excitement, “To show how close we are after everything that happened, Jotaro?”

“You’re talking to Kakyoin, (Y/n),” he sighed, calling the bartender over for the bill. You had all had more than enough for the night.

“Then why are you wearing that funny hat, hm?” You said, flicking Kakyoin’s pronounced bang with a giggle. You were trashed. Kakyoin thought about your impending wrath tomorrow, and having to deal with a hangover for the ages.

“What would we get for a tattoo? Dio’s name?” Polnareff asked the group, sitting back in the booth seat. Jotaro, with surprisingly little bite in his voice, grumbled and shook his head.

“I’m not getting that asshole’s name anywhere on my body.”

“Y’know that picture we took? When we first got to Egypt?” Joseph spoke up, “We could all get that across our backs!”

“That’s way too complex!” Polnareff protested with a smile. You got everyone’s attention when you slapped your hands down on the table with a thundering ‘boom.’

“Guys,” you beamed, pure excitement in your voice, “Iggy. Tramp. Stamps.”

The table fell silent as everybody stared at you blankly. For a moment, Kakyoin thought everyone would laugh at your silly idea. That was the tackiest tattoo anyone has ever thought up!

Polnareff, with a look as serious as death, gave a resounding “Hell yeah!”

After that, all hell broke loose, as even the more subdued members of the group went along with the idea. It was agreed that Iggy, who Polnareff took in after everything went down, would get a collar with his own face on it in solidarity. Despite the risqué location, everyone seemed pumped to get matching tramp stamps of the world’s grumpiest Boston Terrier. Even Jotaro was nodding along as the more vocal members rambled on and on.

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Kakyoin shouted over the group, causing the uproar to die down for a moment, “I’m driving, let’s get in the car.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s doing it,” you cheered, wrapping Kakyoin in a tight, powerful hug, “Kakyoin’s gonna drive us to the tattoo parlor!”

The others broke out in celebration, high-fiving each other as they readied themselves to get all inked-up. The bartender gave Kakyoin a sorry look as he herded everyone into his car, having to walk you there the whole way as you stumbled through the parking lot.

It seemed that everyone felt dizzy as they stood up from their seats, and while Polnareff and Joseph were still a little talkative, the car’s atmosphere was a lot more relaxed than the bar’s. Kakyoin had done this drive a few times before, having to calm down his former travel companions after a hearty night of drinking, so he had it down to a science. Putting a CD labeled “Joseph had a Crazy Idea -Mix” into the player, Kakyoin drove around the block a few times, waiting patiently for the conversation to die down.

Soon enough, the car fell silent as everyone stooped into a drunken haze, bodies limp in their seats as they nearly dozed off to sleep. However, you were buckled into the passenger’s seat, lightly snoring as you drifted into dreamland. Just as expected.

As Kakyoin slowly dropped off the various men at their hotels, who had forgotten about their planned misadventure in their intoxicated stupor, he found himself smiling at your sleeping form as you wormed around in your seat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for you- he knew he did all the way back when you two were teenagers, when you saved him from certain death at Dio’s hand- and seeing you like this always warmed his heart. You were a battle-hardened badass like the rest of them, having seen Dio’s horrors at an age that was simply too young for comfort; but here you were, sleeping peacefully with the giddiest look on your face imaginable.

Sometimes, being your roommate was hard. He knew you were so close, that he could just walk over to your room and confess his ever-growing feelings for you whenever he wanted, that one day he could share a bed with this sleeping angel right next to him. It was on days like this that he realized why he liked you so much: you were kind, cute, and a lot more fun then he was.

Pulling up to your apartment, Jotaro slowly made his way out of the backseat, not even giving Kakyoin a passing glance as he went into the apartment. Leaving Kakyoin to deal with your passed out form, the red-head sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled your from the car. He carried you up a flight of stairs, careful not to let you stir, using Hierophant to open the apartment’s door.

Jotaro looked dead, passed out face-down on the couch. Kakyoin rolled his eyes as Hierophant pulled a blanket over his friend- he’d be a pleasure to deal with in the morning.

“Jotaro,” you giggled out, taking Kakyoin by surprise as you lightly flicked his bang around, “Are we at the tattoo parlor yet?”

Kakyoin quickly tried to shush you, rushing into your room so as to not wake your more aggressive roommate, “No, (Y/n), I’m Kakyoin.”

“Jotaro,” you repeated, much to Kakyoin’s sober displeasure, “Do you think Kakyoin is gonna get the tattoo?”

“I don’t think so, you should try and get some rest,” he whispered to you, setting you down on your bed. He helped you take off your shoes, and despite being in full dress, you make yourself cozy under the covers.

“That’s too bad,” you sighed dramatically, looking up at him through blurry vision, “I was hoping I could see his ass while he got his tattoo. You know how much I like his butt!”

Taken back by your comment, Kakyoin couldn’t stop the hearty laugh that slipped through his lips. He knew he shouldn’t press this topic further, but he was so amused he couldn’t help himself.

“You like Kakyoin’s ass, huh?”

“Duh!” you laughed along with the man, despite not knowing what ‘Jotaro’ found so funny, “Have you seen him in that one pair of skinny jeans he owns? Hot Damn!”

Kakyoin started laughing even harder, wishing he could record this conversation and show it to you later. You’d probably kill him, but this was a nice treat after a long night of dealing with a hollering group of drunken idiots. However, he couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy at your words- did you really find him attractive? It felt really nice to be thought of that way, especially by you.

“I think that ass is made of pure boyfriend material, if you ask me,” you snorted, taking Kakyoin completely by surprise, “Jojo, I know you tell me to just man-up and ask him out, but I don’t wanna scare him away. If he doesn’t like me anymore, he won’t take me to get tattoos!”

Kakyoin froze, trying to process everything he just heard. While cheesy, he never wanted to forget that ‘boyfriend material’ line, or the way your voice softened while you spoke about him. He was in awe of the fact that you had feelings for him- feelings so strong that they had to be confided in Jotaro- and how you feared that he wouldn’t be interested. The red-head was puzzled by your doubts. How could someone as wonderful as you ever not be enough? How could you ever think he didn’t return your feelings? Sometimes, he felt like his feelings were obvious- but, here he was, standing before you as you wearily blinked up at him, eyelids becoming heavy.

“Shhhhh, don’t tell him!” You yawned, weakly dragging your finger over his lips, “Wake me when we get to the tattoo parlor...”

Kakyoin watched your head clunk down onto the pillow, and you were out like a light. After tucking you in, he left the room feeling a little guilty; that was obviously a secret you didn’t want him to hear. However, at the same time, he was over the moon. The person he had admired for years was suddenly in his grasp, finally attainable after years and years of silent pining.

Before he went to bed, Kakyoin made a point to pull his skinny jeans from his closet, laying them out on top of his dresser. He’d be needing them for tomorrow- he wanted his ass to look good while he asked you out, is all.

#jjba #jjba x reader #kakyoin x reader #Noriaki Kakyoin #Kakyoin Noriaki #jjba kakyoin #kakyoin jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #Valentines Day event

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

Text

not moving on, not looking back // javid (ch. 10)

A/N: y’all know the drill

TW: discussion of abuse (physical and substance related)

Read On AO3!

And that’s how it starts.

They stop at David’s beforehand so he can change out of his slacks, shirt, and tie, and if David purposefully wears an outfit to elicit a certain response from Jack, he plays it off pretty well. He had changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places, hidden under a baggy hoodie that he didn't take off until he was safe within the walls of Jack’s home. It feels… empty, now that Katherine isn’t there to fill the space with her voice, her presence.

It’ll be an adjustment, but as long as Katherine and Jack are okay with it, then David will follow their lead.

David sits alone on his phone while Jack goes upstairs and changes. He scrolls through twitter for a while, until he hears footsteps and-- oh, holy shit. Jack walks into view wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweats, and his hair looks so deliciously messy from combing the gel out. He’d clearly gone for the more comfortable look, and David has to stop himself from staring.

“You want anything to drink?” Jack asks as he walks into the kitchen, which prompts David to stand and follow him. Jack grabs a beer from the fridge, offering a second to David.

“Hey, I know we kind of talked already, but… How are you? Like, really?” David asks as Jack takes a drink.

Jack takes in a deep breath and shrugs as he hops onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, swinging his feet. He looks up at David, who has positioned himself to lean against the counter about two feet in front of Jack. “It… It tore me up for a while last night, after she told me, but honestly? I feel a lot better. Like a weight’s been lifted. I had a bad panic attack, but we talked more last night than we’ve talked to each other in ages, and I… I feel like I got my best friend back, y’know? I didn’t get a lot of sleep, though, just… because it’s makin’ me think about stuff I ain’t never thought about before.”

“Like what?” David asks softly, tilting his head before taking a sip of the beer. “Not that- I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help a little. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just… Family stuff,” Jack admits, then rubs his forehead. “We told my Ma last night and she was, y’know, a bit disappointed, but she understood. I just… The whole divorce thing makes me feel like my dad,” Jack explains softly, crossing his arms over his chest. For someone who is nearing thirty, Jack looks like a vulnerable teenager right then. He slowly looks up into David’s eyes, gulping. “He always said he regretted not getting a divorce. He wasn’t a good guy at all. Homophobic, real republican, but my mom married him because he had a good job and a good family. He was the one to kinda push the whole football thing on me, but I was never good at playin’, y’know? Loved the game, but I didn’t have any skill, trust me," Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Did they get a divorce? Your parents?”

“No, my, uh… My mama died before anything was finalized, and everything kinda took a turn. I got… I don’t know. I was really fucked up for a long time. The school counselor suggested that I start drawing my feelings or starting a journal or something, and it worked. Really well, actually. I loved it.”

“Is that what got you into art? Kath mentioned that you wanted to go to art school,” David murmurs, moving to lean against the island, right next to Jack’s leg.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack says with a laugh, then gulps. “My dad wasn’t a fan of me doing the art stuff. I took an art class in middle school, and we had a showcase at the end of the year. I invited him to it, and he-- Do you, uh, do you mind if I talk about this? I don’t wanna force, like, heavy shit on you if you aren’t comfortable,” Jack cuts himself off, looking at David with a gulp. “I’ve only ever told my ma and Kath about this. My dad just… wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Thanks for checking in, but I don’t mind, okay? I’ll tell you if I’m ever not in the right headspace, but, Jack, you’re going through a lot. Just let it out,” David encourages with a sad grin.

Jack nods, then takes in a deep breath. “So-- Art show. Dad said he wasn’t gonna come. Told me he wasn’t gonna support me doing something ‘queer’, even though I’m- even though I told him I wasn’t,” Jack explains, taking a long drink from his bottle with a blank expression on his face. “But, uh, he didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t, and he… slapped me. That was when I was eleven. The physical stuff continued, ‘specially when football season started up again and he saw that I was on the bench every game, ‘cause I really wasn’t good at it. It got… rough. It only stopped when my coach noticed a bruise when we were practicing and I- I guess I was real stiff and limping real hard, so he told me to sit out, and when I took my pads off, my shirt lifted up, and… My dad was in police custody the next morning.”

“Fuck, Jack,” David says in an apologetic voice, staring at him with a lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry you went through that… Did he go to prison, or--”

“Yeah, there was a bunch of evidence, so- so he went to prison. Really easy case against him. He was supposed to get, um, ten years, I think. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was glad my mom was dead so she didn’t have to see me 'turn gay’- like I said, he was a shitty guy. That… I don’t know. I used to be like that, too, but then one of my friends, a coworker of mine, came out, like… eight years ago?” Jack bites his lip, looking down at his hands after putting his bottle down. “I’ve changed. I realized that I was just actin’ like him. I never realized he was so… bad, until I became an adult.”

“Are you still…” David gulps. “You haven’t talked to your father?”

Jack looks up at David, and smiles sadly. “He had a heart attack in prison, about five years in. So… yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

David is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. This is not how he thought the night would go, but at least Jack was getting to vent and David was getting to know him on an even more personal level but, good God, Jack had been through so much.

And adding being adopted, losing his daughter, and divorcing his wife into the mix…

Jack has hurt more in his life than he ever let on.

“Jack, I… I don’t know what to say,” David admits with a frown, but slowly reaches out, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me all of that. You… You’re so strong, y’know? You’ve been through so much, yet you’re successful and smart and… I know we haven’t known each other long, but I am so, so proud of you. But- but you shouldn't have had to be so strong. You didn't deserve any of that. Not the… Not the abuse, or the homophobia, or the pressure. If you ever need to talk about it again, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Davey, that means a lot,” Jack says with a tight-lipped grin, then gulps. “What about you? You got any skeletons in your closet? 'S only fair that you tell me somethin' sad now, y'know.”

David stares at him for a moment. He then holds up one finger and downs the rest of the beer in his bottle, taking in a deep breath once he is done. His eyes close and he tilts his head back, then begins speaking. “From the age of twenty-two to about a month and a half ago, I was addicted to cocaine. I had a brief stint in which heroin was a daily thing, but that stopped after a few months. Too expensive. I regularly had sex with drug dealers in exchange for pills, I’ve been kicked out of gay bars for showing up high out of my mind, I now go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I have to spend, like, ten minutes every morning trying to convince myself not to call in sick just because I’m having bad withdrawals. Bad as in, like, shaking in the shower and crying because I feel like I need to shoot up.” He slowly opens one eye, shooting a sad grin toward Jack. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, then lets out a laugh as he nods along. “I- I guess you can say that, yeah,” He murmurs, then looks at David with a gulp. “If you ever need anything, just let me know, ‘kay? I don’t… I don’t really have experience with that kind of stuff, but if you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you need to talk, or you… need somewhere to stay,” Jack says slowly, seriously, and David nods. “I’m right here, Dave. Just like you're here for me.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve been getting better, I think- the, uh, withdrawals are starting to mellow out, at least a little bit, but it’s just… getting used to sobriety that’s throwing me for a loop,” David admits. He watches Jack’s eyes shift from his face to the empty bottle in his hand, and David shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking-- I never had an alcohol problem, it was just the drugs. I, uh, don’t drink often, though. Just to make sure.”

David doesn’t drink often because David has an addictive personality. David doesn’t drink often because David knows he’s susceptible to alcoholism if he goes down the wrong path.

It makes him feel better to know that Jack is watching out for him in that way, though.

“If you’re sure,” Jack responds with a kind smile. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Jack finishes his beer, David watches him, and everything is… calm.

But not for long.

“Dave? Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d ya know you were gay?”

David’s eyes widen a bit. He wasn’t expecting... that. He looks up, but Jack refuses to meet his eyes. He’s instead staring at the cabinet above the sink, sitting eerily still, and David isn’t sure how to respond for a few moments. Slowly, David shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “I just never really found an interest in women. Plus, I used to be really into this guy in one of my classes… I don’t know, it was just kind of natural for me. My parents were religious, but they never really said anything about it if I brought guys home for dinner, or if I wore makeup to school. I never really had that… epiphany, I just… I was just gay. Never questioned it,” He explains, holding his breath in the heavy silence that follows. He slowly glances back up toward Jack, expecting to see him staring off into space, but to his surprise Jack is staring right back at him. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Jack gulps. There’s a long moment of silence, before he sits up a little straighter. “Kath has been talking about 'self exploration' ever since yesterday. Mentioned she’s, uh… curious.”

“Mhm.”

Jack meets David’s eyes. He stares for a few moments before locking his lips, straightening his posture, and saying, “I think I might be, too.”

There’s a beat of silence. David holds his breath. Holds Jack’s gaze. He waits for a few moments, waiting for Jack to back down, but it never comes. Finally, David gives in.

He asks, breathless, “Wanna find out?”

There’s no more speaking after that.

#jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #tarrytown au #jac writes #newsies #newsies fic #newsies live #livesies

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universallywriting · 3 years

Note

Steven/Connie double date (other couple your choice)

two in one

tw: recreational legal drug use (alcohol)

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

Steven still had a knack for embarrassing himself, despite being twenty-five and, in theory, well beyond his awkward teenager years. But he both lacked a filter and a fear of trying new things, which turned out to be the perfect combination for humiliation. All too often he shared personal information too easily, he tried new food and drinks that led to incredibly, embarrassing suffering, and regularly attempted physical stunts that left him with bruises on more than just his ego.

On the other hand, Connie had long ago transcended her childhood awkward stage. Somehow, she was a constant presence of unflappable poise, beauty, and wit. That was the kind of thing that happened when someone was preparing for a career in public speaking, and it could be a little annoying to have a partner so poised.

Except for the fact that he knew it was all a lie, and it was all too easy to knock her off her feet in the right situation.

“You’re painting again?” she asked Daniel over a dinner double date. “That’s amazing! I wish I could get back into my hobbies again.”

And he, one margarita in, put his head against hers to lovingly quip, “I wouldn’t called fifty thousand words of Sonic Boom fanfiction abandoning your hobbies.”

Daniel and Patricia cracked up immediately, and he could see the flustered looked on Connie’s face turn into giggles. Of course she wasn’t going to say anything - if she said nothing, there was a chance it could be a joke, and not that he had just outed her very real, ever-growing trove of fanfiction.

When the waiter swung by, he decided to get a double shot mojito, and a dish that was marked as spicy. It was a fun night, after all, and it took a lot to get him drunk.

And, as for spice, well… he was used to making a fool of himself. But he was absolutely going to drag her down with him if it was the last thing he did. Conversation continued as he took his drink fast, enjoying the odd burn that slipped from his throat to his belly - the beginning of a sleepy fuzziness starting to creep across his brain.

“Connie’s always been a nerd,” he remarked, grinning, because it was hilarious that everyone seemed to forget that but him. “No one notices because she’s so cool now, but she’s a huge nerd.”

“We’re all a little nerdy,” Patricia said. But he had vibes from that - the kind of vibes that said Patricia meant she watched sci-fi sometimes, or that she was very good at school.

“No,” he corrected. “I mean she’s a huge dork.”

Before he could see his wife’s face, the waiter slid by the table. Steven asked for another mojito and whatever look Connie had before is replaced with warning. “Should you?”

“Shouldn’t you?” he retorted, then beamed at the idea. “Can we get a long island iced tea?”

“Who’s going to drive?’ Connie said, and the waiter hovered by the table as he waited for them to settle it.

He waved his phone. “Rideshare.” He could tell that she was tempted. She rarely drank, but long island iced teas were her favorite. They were also very alcoholic, and she was very bad at alcohol. He said, with only the slightest bit of condescension in his tone, “Do you want wine? I know you’re a lightweight.”

She took it like a challenge, like he knew she would, and made up her mind straight away. She looked up at the waiter with her politician smile and said, “No, I want the tea. Thank you.”

She was a lightweight though, and he was quite happy with himself as he looked back at Patricia again. “I don’t mean that, like, Connie likes Star Voyage. I mean that Connie has an Eris account so she can fight about whether there’s a bias against interracial couples in fandom.”

“Well because there is,” she started, her temper went half-up just from the thought of it. But she took a breath and smiled and said, “But, you know politicians. We’re always politicizing everything.”

Boo!

Boring.

He tried not to pout, though he was pouting very hard in his mind as he ate his salad. Polished Connie was boring. Professional Connie was boring. Connie with her face on was amazing and wonderful and he loved the work she did but

he was already a little tipsy

and she was boring.

He was absolutely delighted when her tea came, and destroyed his mojito with a speed that made Patricia whistle. Connie was slower with her drink as she tried to maintain a normal conversation, but it was a heavy drink. It was her favorite drink.

It vanished, probably faster than she planned, and she ordered another because Daniel and Patricia were drinking too. Of course, he noted as he took a breather with an on-tap beer, the two of them could probably hold their liquor better than his love.

When his food came, he humiliated himself as he expected. His face went red. He felt sweat on his neck. He chugged water like he needed it to live. It was enough to get a giggle or two out of the other couple, and enough for his tipsy wife to regularly be overcome by them.

He was drunk but not drunk enough for walking to be a challenge. Perfect. He’d rather not look stupid if he wobbled on the way to the bathroom. In the meantime, Connie’s composure had plummeted down. Her voice was full of emphasis, exaggeration, excitement - the bubbly girl she kept under-wraps all too often.

Daniel was laughing. “Oh my god, are you serious? By the time you got to high school you were, like, full swan. We only knew you as sword girl.”

“And I worked very hard to cultivate that image,” she insisted, her words slightly blended together with delight and drink. “It’s a delicate balance. I leaned from Pearl. It’s about knowing what is and isn’t refined, and speaking only of the refined things.”

“Exactly,” Steven agreed, trying to sound properly Britishly posh. “We only speak of how compelling the draaaama was on Under the Knife, and never the fix fic you wrote because your favorite children’s book had too much kissing.”

There was laughter all around the table, Connie slipping down her chair as she giggled helplessly, shaking her head. “No! No that’s not why! You are taking-”

“Lisa says ‘you can’t fix an evil empire by kissing’, Connie! You made her say that!”

“This is bullshit! You are oversimplifying a complex situation to the point of no longer adding anything useful to the discussion!”

“That’s a meme!” Patricia cried. “That’s a seven year old copypasta!”

“Steven used to eat flour,” Connie said, a heavy swallow coming from her throat as she struggled to catch her breathe. “He still does sometime. I’ve seen him. I’ve seen him!” “Everyone eats flour. I can just appreciate it without other flavors.” He grinned, looking to the other couple with relish. “In Connie’s fix-it fic Archimicarus gains power whenever Lisa is in pain. So Lisa wears a-”

“Stop! Not the grimdark phase!” she gasped between peals of laughter. “Anything but my edgy phase, please!”

And that, Steven felt, was far more fun than composure.

#deathchrist2000 #steven universe #steven universe future #fic #connverse #connie maheswaran

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littledrummeraussie · 4 years

Text

rewrite the stars.

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: Ashton x genderneutral!reader (I think I was finally able to do it). soulmate fic, but not exactly. angst. small bit of fluffy feelings in the end.

Author’s note: This just happened. One moment I was listening to the song, and in the next one we were here.

masterlist.

- - - - -

Ashton laughed at the story you’ve just told him about one of your professors, making dimples appear on his face, his smile wide and beautiful – and you just felt yourself falling in love with him a little more. He took a sip of his coffee as you fiddled with the sharpie in your hand, drawing flowers and stars on an empty paper cup that you took from the counter. His eyes followed the lines of the pen, smiling fondly as you wrote your name at the bottom, pushing the finished art piece in front of him so he can take a proper look.

As he took the cup from you his eyes suddenly flickered to your wrist, catching a smudge on your skin, and he furrowed his eyebrows. You pulled your hand back, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt and resting it in your lap, already knowing what he has seen. The paper cup slightly crinkled under his fingers, his gaze only skimming over the drawings he would usually study and examine with the professionalism of a scholar. He set it back down between the two of you, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as well, just like you did moments ago.

”It’s not me,” you whispered, a sad smile on your face.

”How long?” Ashton sighed, eyes finally meeting yours, and you shrugged a little, pulling on your sleeve again.

”A little while now.”

* * *

Soulmate.

A word that was whispered between little kids on the playground and between teenagers in school hallway. College kids claimed they’ve felt a pull to go to schools just because their soulmate might be there too. Parents told their tales how they’ve met each other even though it was hard when there were so little opportunities to get out of small towns or across the globe.

Like everyone else you’ve also craved to find the one person who was meant for you. You were 11 when your mark appeared on your wrist, and for the first few months you’ve tried to check everyone else’s around you, hoping you will find them soon enough. But as time passed your search subsided, telling yourself that you will let fate do its job, and you’ve welcomed the thought that your soulmate will step into your life unexpectedly.

Years later you were still dreaming about them, sometimes catching yourself looking at the people passing the coffee shop’s counter, some hiding their marks under their sleeves or their watches, bracelets and band aids put over them for privacy. Others proudly showed them off, giving a chance to wandering eyes to catch a glimpse of the small tattoo painting their skins. You were one of those people who liked to keep your mark to yourself, thinking of it as something precious that you only shared with one other person in the Universe.

When Ashton came around you were sure you have found the one – he was everything you’ve wanted in a soulmate, and when he came back to the shop day after day, lightly flirting while you were making his coffee, you let yourself hope and dream. He started asking you to join him while he sat outside, enjoying the sun and his favourite drink, and the two of you started to schedule your days around your little dates. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he crossed the threshold, the bell signalling his arrival, and your co-workers gave you a smile, letting you have your break until he needed to be on his way again.

It was on a Friday afternoon in the midst of the afternoon crowd when you’ve learned that Ashton wasn’t your soulmate. He only had a few minutes as he asked his coffee from you, giving you an apologetic smile while already turning back to the conversation he had on his phone. The sleeve of his leather jacket left his wrist uncovered and your eyes landed on the small symbol painting his skin, the tattoo looking nothing like the one on your own wrist. You gave him a tight smile as he left the coffee shop, holding back your frustrated tears until you were in the silence of your dorm room, feeling stupid for letting yourself build up a fantasy in your head.

Ashton came back on Monday, once again asking you to join him, and you didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that the two of you will never end up together. You felt selfish, wanting his time and attention for yourself until he realized that you were not who he was looking for. Yet you couldn’t help yourself – maybe this was the pull people have talked about before, a connection with someone that felt so easy and natural. Your dates with Ashton were always the best part of your days, and you were not ready to give up on those. Not yet.

* * *

Ashton’s eyes were searching you, then slowly held his arm out to you, tugging up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt. You bit your lip as you looked at his mark, then reached for your own sleeve, pulling it back to your elbow and put your arm next to his. There was nothing similar about the two tattoos, the dots and lines painting different shapes on your wrists, and you couldn’t pretend anymore: it was clear as day that you two weren’t meant to be.

Soft lips pressed against your mark, and a shiver ran down your spine, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as Ashton lightly traced the shape with his fingertips. He kissed your knuckles, pulling your hand against his face, brushing another kiss on your mark. His eyes were sad, and you perfectly understood what he was going through – you were familiar with the heartache this little revelation caused.

”Can I still see you?” he asked in the end, fingers still tangled together. ”Just until I find them. Can I see you?”

You nodded, still feeling selfish for holding onto someone that wasn’t meant to be yours, but it was clear that Ashton wasn’t ready either. Letting someone special go always felt like they’ve taken a part of your heart with them, but with Ashton it would have felt like someone just ripped the whole thing out of your chest.

* * *

”I’ve found her.”

It was weeks later when Ashton has finally confessed that his soulmate appeared in his life. He looked distracted and was mostly quiet during your coffee dates, and you were sure that something like this could be behind of it all. You knew what this meant, and you were mentally preparing yourself to say your goodbyes to Ashton. You squeezed his fingers in yours, giving him an encouraging smile.

”I’m sure she’s wonderful,” you made yourself say the words, their taste bitter on your tongue. ”I’m happy for you, Ash.”

”Will you be alright?” he sighed, pulling your hand into his lap to run his thumb over your mark. ”I don’t want to leave you like this. I feel like I’m… like…”

His chair scraped on the concrete, moving it next to yours so he could lean closer, resting his forehead against yours. You felt your breath hitch – he’s never been this close to you. Your heart pounded in your ears, but his closeness made you feel calm. Ashton grabbed both of your hands, eyes searching yours as he bit his bottom lip, his voice only a whisper.

”I don’t want to give up on you.”

”You’re not, Ash,” you shook your head, but he just huffed.

”I have something really special with you. You and I – we have so much in common. These last months have been so wonderful and I just can’t stop thinking about you. How do you expect me to move onto someone whom I don’t even know?”

”But she’s your soulmate,” you felt a tear run down your cheek, and Ashton lightly brushed it away. ”You should be with her. It’s not me Ashton. I can’t be that for you.”

”The Universe really fucked this up,” he let out another sigh, nuzzling his nose against yours as he did. ”Can I kiss you? Just once in my life. Just to know what it feels like.”

”I wouldn’t be able to let you go,” you pulled away, quickly getting out of your chair. ”I think it’s better if you go now. Bye Ash.”

You were sure that was the last time you’ve seen Ashton – he never came back to your coffee shop again.

* * *

The guy smiling at you made you stop in your tracks, and as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet you’ve caught sight of the tattoo on his wrist. The same pattern looked back at you, the one you have seen every day of your life since you were 11. You’ve seen him a few times already, and he did come back regularly, always being nice to you, sometimes stumbling around his words as he tried to flirt with you. You made sure to tug your sleeves down to your wrists, not wanting anyone to see your shared marks – you’ve been waiting for him since forever, but it didn’t came close to what you’ve had with Ashton. Maybe some people weren’t meant to be together. Maybe some soulmates weren’t meant to find each other. Maybe living a life alone would be better than living a lie every day for the rest of your life.

* * *

”I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

The footsteps didn’t fade, and you huffed out a frustrated sigh, ready to tell the person coming into the shop to leave before you’ve said something you shouldn’t have. But as your eyes looked up at the stranger, you needed to realize that you know those hazel eyes staring back at you, have seen them daily for months – have fallen in love with them every time you had the chance to look into them.

”Ashton?”

”Hey, do you mind if I wait here until you close up?” he pushed his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You nodded at him, and he sat down at the counter, silently watching as you cleaned up after your shift. He fiddled with the rings on his fingers before he picked up a paper cup and a pen, drawing patterns on it until you finished. As you stepped next to him to tell him that you should go, you caught sight of the cup in his hand – it was covered in your own mark, the lines and dots perfectly captured on the paper.

”Who said that…” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing. ”Who said that you can only have one soulmate? That the one should be someone you share a mark with?”

”Countless people before us,” you sat down next to him, resting your hands in your lap.

”What if you have nothing in common with them?” Ashton finally looked at you, eyes boring into yours.

You wanted to tell him about your soulmate, the guy with the nice smile and the stuttering flirting, the boring coffee order and how he didn’t make you feel anything at all. Ashton tapped his fingers against the counter, and you reached for his hand, covering it with yours.

”I’ve told her,” he said, and you nodded in understanding. ”I’ve tried to love her, but I– I couldn’t do it.”

”She will forgive you,” you squeezed his hand, but he just shook his head, turning towards you.

”No. No, she won’t. I’m not going back to her,” he kicked his foot against the leg of the chair. ”I refuse to be with someone who just doesn’t make me feel anything. Not when I have someone who makes me feel everything.”

”We’re not meant to be, Ashton,” you tugged his hands into your lap, and he scooted closer, legs bracketing yours. ”That’s not how the Universe works. At least… that’s what they tell us.”

”Let me decide my own fate,” he slowly leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours and you welcomed the feeling; new, but still so familiar. ”Let me give the middle finger to the stars and let me love you on my own terms. Be my soulmate, the one I have chosen. Please.”

You tipped your head forward, nose and lips lightly brushing against his until you felt his soft lips melt against yours, kissing you slowly but surely. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you as close as he could, tongue slipping in your mouth and fingers tangled into your hair. Ashton lightly nipped your lips, peppering it with little kisses until you rested against his chest, face buried in his neck, his body warm and comforting against yours.

”Will you be my soulmate?” you whispered against his shirt, and Ashton nodded, his lips pressing a kiss on your temple as he held you close.

”Maybe we could get our own mark,” he squeezed your hips, and you’ve looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with love and hope. ”What do you say?”

”That there’s a tattoo shop just a block away,” you giggled, tugging on the collar of his jacket. ”The guy gets his coffee from me every morning.”

”And I just have the perfect mark for the both of us,” Ashton grinned at you, leaning closer to press another kiss on your lips.

* * *

As Ashton wrapped his arms around you that night, spooning you from behind like you have imagined it so many times before, you let your gaze slide to your interlocked hands. He chuckled behind you, fingertip running over the healing tattoo on the inside of your middle finger, and you lovingly did the same to him before kissing him goodnight. The two little black stars rested next to each other as your fingers intertwined, a reminder that sometimes you can choose your own fate, no matter what is written in the stars.

- - - - -

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myloverboyash @sexgodashton

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfiction #soulmate!ashton #fiction time #afic: rewrite the stars

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another-rogue-trevelyan · 3 years

Text

I did... something 😂

This is the first attempt I’ve made at writing fic for a couple other than Cullen and Evelyn. Somehow what was supposed to be a smutty one shot turned into a sexually charged sparring match. I think this will end up being the first half of a one shot. No lemons yet, but there will be!

This is untitled as of yet, and I just felt like sharing since this is the first I’ve ever written for Greedfall. Enjoy a preview of my first ever work for Kurt and Corinne De Sardet! Back to your regularly scheduled Dragon Age content soon 😂❤️

Corinne De Sardet hit the ground with a thud. She coughed as the dust kicked up around her and rolled to her side, rubbing gingerly at her tailbone.

“Your footwork is sloppy today, Greenblood. You’re lucky it’s me and not someone who really wishes you harm.” Kurt stood above her, his tricorn blocking the beating sun as he offered her a hand. Corinne begrudgingly accepted, her pride far more bruised than the darkening patches on her skin.

She retrieved her own fallen tricorn and returned it to her head, covering the worst of the mess of her disheveled braid. She did her best to wipe the dirt from her shirt and trousers. Her overcoat and ascot had been removed long prior in the midday heat.

She and Kurt had been at it for hours. Corinne felt stiff and store as she bent to retrieve her rapier, having been disarmed by her Master at Arms again.

He was right, and that only annoyed her more. She was sloppy today, clumsy even, and though it was just she and Kurt in the Coin Guard’s training yard, she felt embarrassed by her poor performance. Though she probably shouldn’t - Kurt was the first to ever put a sword in her hand. He had certainly witnessed worse performances.

That had been back in Serene, however, and things had changed a great deal since then. While Constantin had struggled even prior to his affliction to adjust to his new role as governor, Corinne had proved herself a capable diplomat. She had created allies in unlikely places, thwarted an attempted coup, and faced fearsome beasts without a second thought.

Why, then, couldn’t she concentrate on a simple sparring match?

The truth, though she hated to admit it, was that her mind muddled around Kurt as of late. What had started as an old childhood infatuation had become something else entirely upon their arrival in New Serene. Corinne was no longer the youth he had trained at the behest of her uncle, but the Legate of the Congregation. They had made painstaking discoveries together about each of their pasts, dismantled corruption within the Coin Guard and uncovered the truth of her roots.

Now, as beads of sweat dripped down her face, she knew how she had gotten so distracted. Kurt was looking at her again with that look - the one that excited and confused her and, ultimately, pissed her off.

That look was not the look of a teacher studying his student. When his eyes wandered over her, they were the eyes of a man drinking in the sight of a woman. Eyes that held a hint of curiosity, admiration, and - dare she think it - wanting.

But Kurt always put a stop to things before they could get any farther than uncomfortable stares, preferring instead to revert back to their old ways and ultimately making her feel utterly infantilized.

“Excellency?”

How long had she been staring? Corinne couldn’t be certain, but she was now very aware that she had been standing with her rapier aimed to the ground, staring awkwardly. She lifted the weapon in front of her, preparing to go again.

“‘Sloppy,’ is normally reserved for Constantin,” she said as they began to circle one another. They tested each other with a few swings, metal scraping together.

“Constantin is always sloppy. For you, on the other hand, this is unusual. Something on your mind, Greenblood?”

His sweaty face glistening in the afternoon heat, for one thing. Just what that glint in his eye indicated was truly going on in his head, for another. The ease with which is muscles moved as he swung his blade-

Wait.

Corinne jumped back too late, rapier once again flying from her grip as the point of Kurt’s blade pointed at her throat.

“I’ve… just had a lot to think over lately, is all.” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the intensity with which he stared at her down his blade.

“I know things have been… a lot for you, lately. I understand why you’re distracted. But you can’t be fighting like this. You’ll get yourself killed.” He lowered his rapier and retrieved hers from the ground, holding it by the blade and extending the hilt toward her. “Again.”

Corinne huffed as she grasped the blade, then took up position for what must have been the hundredth time. Though this time she hadn’t been knocked on her ass, it was still just as embarrassing a loss.

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Greenblood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Blinded with rage, Corinne swung far too hard. Kurt seized the opportunity and used the force to disarm her again, but this time, as the rapier slid through the dirt, Corinne let the force of the motion take her as well. She crashed into Kurt, sending the two of them to the ground.

They tumbled in the dirt, hats flying and struggling for dominance as both refused to yield. Corinne was lighter and quicker and slipped out of his grasp a few times, but in the end Kurt was stronger. He flipped them as they brawled, pinning her wrists with his hands and her body with his own. She writhed beneath him for a few more moments but had no choice but to concede that he had beaten her.

They panted, gasping for breath as the dirt stuck to their sweat soaked forms. Kurt’s bright blue eyes searched her stormy gray ones for answers, confusion still evident on his face. He smelled of sweat and musk, his body readied in case she was preparing to strike at him again.

“What have I done to upset you so much, Greenblood?” he asked, still breathing hard. His hips were pressed into hers. Corinne struggled not to squirm.

“I am no longer a child,” she said simply. Kurt’s eyes flicked from her face to where her shirt had fallen slightly open and back, swallowing hard.

“I… know that, Excellency. I apologize.”

“I may have been your student, and I may be Legate, but I am still a woman.”

“I know.”

“I won’t be treated like a child.”

“I know.”

“After all we’ve been through-”

“I know.”

They remained that way in silence for… seconds? Minutes? Corinne couldn’t be sure, too distracted as she watched Kurt’s gaze wander from her eyes, to her lips, to her chest, still rising and falling deeply from the exertion. Eventually, Kurt seemed to realize the position they were in, and more importantly, where they were in such a position, and clambered to his feet.

“I… can I walk you home?” he asked awkwardly, helping her up and then gathering their hats.

“No. I think I can handle the walk from here up the street on my own, thank you.” She placed the hat on her head, uncaring that it was still covered in dirt, then grabbed the remainder of her belongings and turned to leave the training yard.

“That’s not what I-“

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

“Corinne!”

Though her name on his lips tugged at her heart, she didn’t wait to see if he had anything more to say.

Since this will be my last WIP of the year, I wanted to thank some friends I’ve made! @chaotic-citrus @hawkeish @dreamerlavellan @noire-pandora @kemvee @aspiritofcompassion @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold are just a few of the lovely people I’ve had the joy to find since starting this blog, and I see and appreciate your continued support. Thank you so much, and Happy New Year to all of you!

#greedfall #kurt x de sardet #kurt x corinne #corinne de sardet #greedfall fanfic #de sardet #wip whenever #op #kurt greedfall #another-rogue-trevelyan fanfiction

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ryik-the-writer · 3 years

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THE AUDACIOUS STORYBROOKE MIRROR ADVICE COLUMNIST (WEDNESDAY PAPER EDITION) In which Lacey French is a smutty advice columnist for the Storybrooke Mirror.

Ch. 4: Lacey has a conversation with one of her biggest opposers, followed by an interlude with Gold

A03

Wednesday morning came too soon, but Lacey had met the deadline for her column, and she still had a job when she walked into her office.

“Racy Lacey,” Cruella had responded when she sent in the final edit. “When did you become so angelic?”

“Stuff it,” she said to her secondary editor.

Glass’s feedback was mutual.

“Well kid, I admit I had some doubts,” he said just as Lacey was about to scream. “But you pulled it off. We’re getting decent comments on the new column, especially from the higher up.”

“You mean from her majesty,” Lacey spat, despising the woman who got her into this who mess.

“The mayor is pleased, yes,” Glass relayed with a slight warning to his voice.

Lacey ignored it of course, but she didn’t want to talk about that horrid woman any longer.

“What did you think?” she asked, running a finger over a book on his desk.

Glass had the audacity to laugh. “You haven’t asked me that since you were an intern.”

She turned a harsh glare at him and Glass finally put her out of her misery.

“I thought you put a lot of heart into it, and I know it wasn’t easy stepping into something so different from what you’re used to.”

“You’re fucking telling me,” Lacey muttered undetected.

“It’s a heavy subject, I mean good God Lace, did you pick this one to get back at me?”

“Maybe.” Lacey teased.

He let it slide and stood, cueing that there conversation was coming to an end.

“Well you did good, and, well, I’m proud of you kid.”

That was indeed something she hadn’t heard since she was a bright-eyed intern back in high school, and something she hadn’t heard from anyone but him.

Not even from her own father.

“Don’t get mushy on me, Delicate-as-Glass,” she snarked, enjoying the way he bristled from the use of her nickname from him.

“Easy,” he warned, but he more important things to do than lecture his most wild employee on respect.

“Anyway, I think we can start adding one of those with your usual debauchings, and that should keep you in the clear.

It was just as she suspected, but she complained simply to put on a show and then let the matter rest. She’d have to work with Gold some more, which she had no problem with at all.

Though it would seem their attempt at a romantic relationship was going to need some time.

Sunday came around and Lacey hadn’t seen nor heard hide or hair of him since their drink.

As Lacey walked the streets of Storybrooke, an attempt to get her thoughts in order, she but decided she’d visit him that night for more help on her “fluff” article, and maybe some feedback on her smutty one.

Bells rung cleanly through the air as church services let out and Lacey scrunched her nose. The religious zealots in Storybrooke were her biggest haters. It wasn’t uncommon that she’d get some sort of email warning of the damnation of her soul or the obstruction of the town’s youth.

Lacey laughed aloud as she thought of the latter, certain Storybrooke’s youth found their first form of porn in a much more modern way – a fact she often wrote as reply in her emails on the subject.

“Glad to see you’re in good spirits, Miss French.”

Lacey’s grin melted into an annoyed frown at the familiar, very unwelcomed voice.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered as her most vocal opposer approached: Mother Superior.

The head nun of Storybrooke’s covenant had her finger in the grand pie that was Storybrooke and was quick to take down anything she could pinpoint as “sinful.” Such measures included removing a majority of “inappropriate” books from the town’s school libraries (the public one had been closed for years), mandating separate PE classes at said schools, and worse, writing a religious reminder about the wages sin in Storybrooke’s Sunday paper—Lacey’s fucking territory!

“Morning,” Lacey greeted vilely, glancing over her shoulder. “And…goodbye.” She began to walk away, but was halted by more of the pious nun’s words.

“I was interested to see your choice of column’s this week,” she spoke. “Much more effective than the sinful trash you usually post.”

Lacey swung around on her heal, letting out a fake gasp.

“And here I thought you hated my work,” she gave the nun a plastic smile. “Good to hear you read my columns regularly.”

Mother Superior bristled, already losing her battle with the spicy Lacey French.

“You—you obviously can stop your sinful ways if you give yourself the chance. You could really help people instead of leading them down the path of—”

“I do help people,” Lacey hissed. “Sex, intimacy, closeness, all of those things are important to people, and they come to me for help because unlike you I’m not going to shame them.”

The head nun went quiet and Lacey thought for a moment she’d won this fight and could go about her day in peace, but then a wicked grin spread over Mother Superior’s face and Lacey knew her day was about to get much worse.

“People seek your insight because you’re an easy slut who has whored herself out expertly.”

She said it. The W-word Lacey hated with a passion. The word that was always aimed at her.

She tried to hide the impact it had on her. No one, not even a pillar of the fucking community, was going to get under her skin.

“At least people read my expert advice. From what I seen they shred your little letter of conviction up and donate it to the animal shelter for bedding.”

Mother Superior’s face turned green and her mouth opened again to comment when another familiar figure added their appeal.

“Mother Superior,” Gold greeted darkly. “I do hope since you’ve found time to invade Miss French’s business then you’ve found time to gather the rent for tomorrow.”

The head nun’s expression turned pale. Her mouth failed to work and Lacey found some secret pleasure in her downfall.

“O-of course, Mr. Gold,” she finally replied, giving Lacey one last dirty look before she dashed away to the convent.

Lacey snorted, spinning around to face Gold.

“Thanks cutie pie, but I was handling myself just fine.”

Gold shrugged. “I never miss a moment to remind that gnat of a woman of her place.”

She chuckled at that, though the sting of the nun’s words were still wearing off.

Gold noticed her shift in mood and searched for an out.

“I was…going to call you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Well neither did you.”

“Ugh,” Lacey groaned. “We wrote a column, not slept together, let’s drop it.”

Gold’s face heated and he went quiet.

Lacey sighed, knowing she’d already made the situation between them more awkward than it already was.

“Look,” she said, “I have a few fluff columns I need to go through. How about I come by your place later and you see what you can do.”

Still flustered, Gold could only nod.

“Great,” Lacey said. “I’ll see you then.”

Gold watched her leave, the clanking of her high heels matching the thumping of his heart.

So far there relationship was a sort of business casual agreement, but there was the “what if” factor floating cleanly over them.

His attraction for her was clear between them, but exactly how she felt was still unknown.

For all he knew she was simply using him, but at least it was for his mind and not for his heart.

He was becoming content with their relationship, but he was a lonely soul who would one day want more. What would happen when he tried to take that step? Would it be the end of them?

Unbeknownst to him, the same thought was on Lacey’s mind.

No one had ever stood up for her like that before, and there was a certain tastefulness watching him snarl at that gnat of a nun.

She’d admit that Gold was attractive in his own way. Lean, a decent stature, nicely grayed out, and those eyes. Damn his eyes. The color of whiskey and just as addictive.

She found herself grinning like a freaking teenager as she thought of her unofficial business partner and her growing attraction for him.

It only occurred to her as she got halfway to her apartment that she had spoken to him completely in the open and felt absolutely no remorse or concern.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Okay, how about this one: Racy Lacey, I’m at my wits in with my new boyfriend—oh never mind, this one’s smut-worthy too.”

Gold scoffed. They’d been looking through emails for the past hour. They were almost though a whole bottle of wine, most of which was drunk by Lacey. Gold avoided the alcohol as much as possible less he embarrass himself.

Lacey seemed to be holding her own though, mostly. She was walking barefoot through his living room, pacing back and forth as she read emails off her phone.

It was a lovely site and very distracting.

“Your mind goes straight to the gutter, doesn’t it?” Gold said, his stomach immediately twisting with anxiety.

It was the first time he’d attempted to joke with her and, judging by the snort that followed, she took it fairly well.

“Well, people write me for one thing,” Lacey shrugged, falling back beside him on the couch. “So the gutter is a good place to go.”

He chortled, grateful her sense of humor ran deep.

Lacey stared at him over the rim of her glass, curious.

“What about you?” she inquired. “Where does yours goes?”

Gold choked a bit on the sip of wine he’d taken. Not embarrassing himself was starting to go out the window, it would seem.

“S-somewhere more innocent than where yours is,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Shouldn’t we get back to the column?”

Lacey crawled closer until she was mere inches from him. She crossed her legs, leaning one hand on her knee as she watched him grow increasingly nervous.

“Come on, converse with me,”

Gold resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lacey French was guiltily tipsy in his living room, and getting increasingly bold at that.

“Miss French…”

“For Christ’s sake it’s Lacey,” she slurred. “We’re defiantly on a first-name basis, I mean come on.”

Gold chuckled nervously. Where they really at that stage already?

“I suppose we are. Now the column…”

“Ugh,” Lacey groaned, setting her glass on the floor beside the couch. “All work, no play. What’s the matter, afraid you’ll fall even more in love with me?”

Gold froze. Honestly, he could faint. Lacey was certainly having a field day with the knowledge of his affections from his drunken email earlier last week.

She wasn’t mocking him, that much he could tell, but he did increasingly wonder the authenticity of her affections towards him, if there were any at all. She’d probably regret her words tomorrow, but he wouldn’t remind her of them if didn’t bring them up.

“It’d certainly be a challenge not to,” he admitted.

Lacey’s smile stretched further, her chest fluttering.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Lacey simply wanted to explore this oddity she had developed with Gold. Either way, she was about to make a very drastic decision.

“Hey,” she whispered, chuckling. “How about …”

Gold tilted his head, charmed at the rosiness on her cheeks. “Yes?”

She stared into those eyes, their color so tantalizing and bright.

“…kiss me.”

Gold’s smirk slowly disappeared, his chest seizing.

“I…I beg your pardon?”

“K-I-S-S,” Lacey repeated with a smack of her lips. “me.”

Gold could only stared at the scarlet-faced goddess in front of him, the color of her face making the blue of her eyes stand out all the more.

He did want to kiss her—Gods knows he did—but was this the right time?

Lacey seemed to think so as she leaned forward, expecting his lips. In retaliation, he leaned back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Lacey caught on quickly, pausing when she saw the uncertainty on Gold’s face.

“Yikes, sorry,” she muttered. “You’re not going to catch anything, damn.”

Gold was taken aback by the sudden malice in her tone and, he saw, the flicker of shame in her icy blues.

“What? Lacey what are you talking about?”

Lacey stared glassily at her bare feet, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You said ‘who knows what I have’ during our fight, remember?”

With flaming discomfort, he recalled exactly what she was talking about.

It had been a flare up, a way to push her out as he recovered from his embarrassment, to keep her at arms-length, he previously convinced himself.

The reason was pointless. He’d insulted Lacey, humiliated her really.

It didn’t take a vivid imagination to know that her early conversation with Mother Superior was only a sample what she went through daily. And he’d was no different than the fools in town who jumped to conclusions about virtue.

Her head was still bent, one of her fingers circling a patch of leather on the couch. Gold felt sick that he had made her feel any level of guilt when she shouldn’t at all.

“Lacey,” he said quietly. “I am so sorry. I was foolish. I didn’t mean what I said. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Lacey shrugged, uncrossing her legs and made her way to the window.

“It doesn’t matter.” She replied, the phrase her constant companion whenever she was compared to someone with such loose morals.

Lacey was as sex positive as they came and encouraged many of her readers to be comfortable and experimental with their sexuality, but her own experience came from a vivid imagination. Her own standards were extremely high, and her partners very few.

Of course, that didn’t stop the many she turned down from spreading callous rumors about her when she refused their beds, and of course being a sex columnist didn’t lend an the most positive opinion.

She’d learned to deal with the snarls and the crude comments whispered behind her back. She’d eye her opposers down just as damningly as they did her and came out triumph.

Still, the isolation didn’t stop the wave of loneliness that hit her from time to time.

“It does too matter,” Gold fought. “You don’t deserve what I said to you Lacey, what anyone says to you at that!”

“I’m used to it—”

“You shouldn’t be,” Gold cut her off. “You are a beautiful, intelligent person Lacey. And you do something every day that not many people have the ability to.”

Lacey snorted but smiled none the less.

“You’re so brave to do it,” Gold said, his eyes lowering. “Braver than I am.”

Lacey eyed him, cocking her head mischievously.

“I think you’re pretty brave,” she said. “Not too many people have the gall to have Racy Lacey in their house, especially with such nosy neighbors.”

“Damn the neighbors,” he said.

She scooted closer, her breath warm and acidic on his lips.

“I think you’re pretty handsome too,” she smirked.

Gold scoffed. His looks were the last thing he’d credit himself over.

“I’m serious,” Lacey said, her painted nails trailing up his neck. “Especially your hair…”

Gold accepted her touch with earnest, his predatory eyes fluttering shut as he pressed into her hand.

She watched him, a man starved for human affection. Just like her.

She carefully leaned forward, letting her lips brush against his, testing his consent. When he didn’t pull away, she strengthened the kiss, pressing her lip solidly into his as her hands tangled in his locks.

Gold returned it, lost in her taste and desperate for her touch.

They separated for air, Lacey’s hand have gripped the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” she husked. “What if we…”

He was no fool to not know what she wanted.

He had wanted to protect, but found out she didn’t need protection, not from the town at least.

His own heart was damaged, and Lacey had begun to fix the chips and dents.

He was still hesitant, still ashamed by his behavior toward her earlier, but Lacey was pawing at his shirt and he could think of nothing else but her.

He kissed her again, his hand feeling down her hip.

Lacey was quite receptive. She uncrossed her legs and crawled into his lap, pushing him against the arm of the couch.

He captured her face with one hand while he explored her body with the other. His hands came up to her top, stopping for her permission. Her hands met his and she all but ripped off her shirt, her nipple standing at full attention through her silk bra.

Gold’s hands ran up her back, grazing her breasts and gliding over her stomach, her side, down her thigh and under the fabric of her jeans.

She clung to his shoulders as she let her tongue dance with his. Wetness was already pooling between her legs. This was escalating quickly and yet she had no intention of holding back.

He swallowed when his erection pressed against her thigh. She desired him and she needed him. Now.

With more skill than he could have imagined she managed to get her jeans off in a messy tangle, laughing as he helped her.

His fingers graced against the fabric of her panties, applying just the right kind of pressure to her clit.

“Gold,” she keened, attacking his belt and leaning off of him just enough to help pull his boxers down.

She felt his hard erection twitch, pressing against her flesh, his warmth radiating.

She kissed him again. He groaned and bucked his hips against her. She moved her hands between their bodies to free his throbbing erection from his pants. He groaned when she wrapped her hands around his cock. She wanted to taste him. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to bring him pleasure and see it written all over his face.

He trembled a little, grateful she had no qualms with being in charge.

“You are so sexy,” he groaned as she grabbed his cock with one hand and fighting between moving her panties aside and steadying herself with the other. Feeling how good he felt when he finally slipped inside her made all annoyance she felt slip away.

They both sighed and she captured both his hands, pulling them up and behind his head. She entwined her fingers with his and pressed his hands against the couch as she bend forward to kiss him.

She rode him hard, licking, nibbling, sucking at this mouth while she did so. He was hers and she wouldn’t allow him to run off again. He came before she could reach her climax, but feeling his hot seed spilling inside of her brought her over the edge again.

She collapsed on top of him, releasing his hands to play with his hair. And they just breathed together.

Then she started laughing, a throaty ring that made his heart pound.

“Well, Goldie Locks,” murmured as she played with his curls. “I think I have my inspiration for my next column.”

He chuckled and held her ease down so that she was lying on top of him.

“Such a shame you still have to write the tame one, you’re deadline is tomorrow morning, yes?”

Lacey groaned and buried her head in his chest. He kissed her curls in reply.

He was indeed going to enjoy this new relationship with Lacey French.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I’ve been trying to get these two to bang for over a month now, so boom, they banged. I can’t write a smut scene to save my life.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #lacey french #mr. gold #rumplestiltskin #ryik's fics

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years

Text

Getting Warmer - B. Hargrove

TW: MENTIONS OF ABUSE

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Never in her life had she taken her heels off to drive. She was practically expert at the action of driving with stilettos on.

Unlike the rest of her life, this situation called for a foot to the gas harder than she was willing to forgo one of the many pairs of black stilettos she owned.

She never thought she would be in such a rush for somebody like him.

To her, he didn’t deserve to play the damsel in distress. He was rude, arrogant, the perfect representation of everything wrong with the middle class white male of the 80’s.

Yet here she was, forcing her canary yellow Chevy to go as fast as it could just to get to where he needed her to be.

He was in trouble, and no matter how much she didn’t like somebody, Y/N Henderson didn’t let another suffer just because of her personal feelings.

Her feet were bare as she pulled up to the parking lot of the high school. It was far too late for anybody to be there, but he told her to meet him there.

That, and it was an early Saturday morning.

The blue Camaro stood out in the early morning light and as she pulled up next to it, she could see just how disheveled they man leaning against the side of the vehicle was.

His lip was split and he was sporting an already bruising eye, but he still smirked when she got out of the car. He took a moment to adjust to the sight of her without her heels.

She was tiny compared to him.

Her hands were on his face in seconds, tilting it every which way so she could survey the damage.

“What happened? Are you okay? Where’s max?” Her questions came out lightning fast as she furrowed her brows in confusion.

Billy took the opportunity to notice how her nose crinkled slightly when she concentrated.

“Nice to see you too, princess,” he smirked down at her, offering a wink. “Maxine is fine. She’s in bed.”

She was tired, her hair was a mess and she was hungry. She was not in the mood for his question dodging.

“You answered one of three questions. What about the other two?”

Her arms crossed underneath her chest, and she rolled her eyes as Billy shamelessly gazed at her breasts.

“Look, I don’t have the care to stand around while you perv on me.” She watched as his blue eyes raised to meet her own. “I came here because you said you needed help, and I show up and you’re bruised and battered. I understand you might not be ready to talk right now but I won’t stand here while you eye me like a piece of meat. I’m a woman, not an object for your viewing pleasure, Billy.”

She was annoyed, anybody could be able to tell that. She hadn’t snapped at him, but she sure as hell didn’t say it in a way that can be brushed off.

She knew when to be stern, and from his past experience, she also knew when to get vicious.

He felt like a scolded child and he filled with guilt.

He shouldn’t have called her. He shouldn’t have asked her to meet him. He shouldn’t have ran out. He should have just stayed in that house with him.

She could notice the shift in Billy almost immediately. His eyes seemed to sink in and the smirk on his face took a significant hit. Yet the corners of his mouth were still turned upwards. In more of a sad smirk now.

“Right now, I want nothing more than to tell you everything about my life,” Billy spoke, and Y/N could see the unshed tears that mask his blue eyes. “But I don’t want to dampen the mood just as our night is beginning.”

Y/N deadpanned.

“Okay, sorry, morning.” Billy laughed softly. “How about we start by getting something to eat? I dragged you out here, the least I can do is take you for some breakfast.”

Y/N nodded softly, stepping towards her car. She didn’t miss the way Billy’s face dropped at her slight departure.

He peered back up when she pulled a pair of fluffy boots from the boot of her car and slipped them onto her feet. She pulled the passenger door of Billy’s Camaro open and rose her head to look at him before she slipped in.

“I’m not waiting around all night. You said breakfast, that’s like love language to me.”

Billy shook his head with a laugh before climbing into the car beside the girl.

He hated that he had fallen so hard for her, but he couldn’t stop himself now.

To say Y/N was surprised by the state of his car interior would be an understatement.

She couldn’t find a speck of dust anywhere. The leather seats were void of any mess, the floor looked as if it was vacuumed regularly and there was no rubbish anywhere.

It was a happy surprise, as she kept her Chevy in the same state.

What wasn’t shocking, was the music Billy listened to. There was a cassette in the radio, blasting a number of rock songs.

The car ride was short, so she only heard a few tunes.

The Ramones, Zepplin, the Stones. Everything she expected.

Every time she allowed herself to think that Billy wasn’t the stereotypical wannabe bad boy, she was proven wrong.

Sure, he kept his car clean. Sure, he rang her in the middle of the night with his breath shaking through sobs.

Sure, he had an earring that she didn’t know about and was interested in.

“You have your ear pierced?” She blurted, dude way aware that she had been staring at him for a few minutes.

He was aware of it, his smirk was evidence.

He made a noise of agreement. A deep rumble from the back of his throat.

“Got it before we left California to piss off-“ he stopped short. He didn’t want to tell her who he wanted to provoke, but part of him was longing to tell her how he intentionally made decisions against his fathers wishes.

“To piss off who?” She had a critical eye. She was curious and wouldn’t let him end a statement with no conclusion.

“Uh, my ex girlfriend. She didn’t think guys should get pierced so I wanted to prove her wrong before I left.”

He looked nervous. Y/N could tell he was lying but she chose not to push him.

She was often good at reading people but Billy was proving to be an enigma.

If she had to guess where his bruises came from, she would say from fighting with some other teenage boy.

She couldn’t explain the emotion that she heard through the phone though.

They pulled up to a small diner not far from the school. Before Y/N could even open her door, Billy had pulled it open and he was waiting for her to step out.

His movements halted at the look of shock on her face and he couldn’t stop the blush from rising to his cheeks.

“Oh! Sorry. S’a force of habit. Usually I do that for my step-mum,” his voice was low, almost shy.

“It’s alright, Billy. I don’t mind,” she said, standing up from the low car.

He smiled at the reassurance.

Billy generally acted in ways to provoke others. He intentionally acted out, in hopes that he could receive some positive attention. Hell, he was happy with negative attention from anybody but his father.

He didn’t often receive positive attention unless it was from some girl who wanted to end up underneath him, but Y/N wasn’t like that. And that made her much more enticing.

That, and the amazing car she drove, the way she didn’t take shit, her laugh, the way her eyes lit up in class when the topic shifted to something she was interested in.

The odd way she wore black stilettos all of the time, and the way she looked at the moment with her hair blowing in the wind and her soft shoes making her so much shorter than him.

He could just lean down and press his lips against-

“We going in? I’m starving and this place does the best waffles.” There was a smile on her face, and for the first time he noticed how her face was void of makeup.

Every imperfection was on show and he couldn’t help but enjoy the sight.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” He cleared his throat and walked towards the diner.

Once they were inside, he felt a sense of comfort was over him.

The air was much warmer inside and the smell of bacon cooking reminded him just how hungry he was.

He was so angry the night before that he skipped dinner.

Y/N led him to a booth towards the back of the diner, where they could look through the window at his car.

“I don’t trust the asshole round here.” She explained. “I always sit where I can see my car.”

He was slowly discovering more about her and he couldn’t wait to sit down and talk with her.

She ordered three waffles and coated them all in syrup. She also ordered a strawberry milkshake and proceeded to sip the syrup coated waffles into the pink drink.

She was unique. He couldn’t expect anything from her apart from the unexpected.

When he called her, he figured she would hang up. But instead she calmed him down and asked him where the could meet. Within seconds of ending the call, Billy had been in his car and driving off.

Billy settled for pancakes, arguing that they were better than waffles. Y/N shot him an evil look for that admission.

There was no conversation as they ate. Y/N had questions burning in her mind but she didn’t want to pry.

Then again, she also wanted answers for why she had left the house for him.

He couldn’t stop himself from telling her after he had finished eating.

“It was my dad,” his voice was quiet, and he didn’t meet her eyes when he spoke.

Y/N snapped her eyes to billy, furrowing her brows with confusion.

“What was your dad?”

He gestured to his face, not wanting to say the words for fear he would break down.

Y/N’s mouth fell open. She had heard rumors from the boys that Max and Billy’s dad wasn’t the nicest, but she didn’t want to believe anything for fear of it not being true.

“Your dad did that to you?”

He nodded slightly.

He flinched when her hand grabbed his from across the table. She held his hand with such gentleness that he found himself staring at their connected appendages.

“He’s been doing it since I was little. My mum left when I was a kid, so he turned from doing it to her to doing it to me. He’s tried it a couple times with Susan but I try to stop it.” He seemed as if he were in pain.

“Does he do the same to Max?” Y/N could feel herself getting angrier as Billy spoke. This was not what she expected at all, but now that he was saying it, she could see the signs.

“No, no, he doesn’t touch Max. He’s controlling to her, though. It pisses her off. She’s too independent for him. Little brat tried to make a run for it before we moved here.” There was a proud smile on his face. “I don’t blame her. If we got along more, I would have tried to make a run for it with her.”

Y/N’s eyes were full of sympathy. She wanted to help the man in front of her, but she didn’t know how to.

“I’m sorry, Billy. I’m sorry this has happened to you.” She watched as he quickly wiped a tear that had fallen from his blue eyes. He still refused to look at her.

“S’fine. I shouldn’t have called you,” he whispered, nor trusting his voice.

Y/N furrowed her brows.

She turned her head around to look at they diner. It was empty, save for the man behind the counter who was dozing off.

She pulled her hand from his and stood up. His heart dropped for a second, fearing that she was going to leave him.

It came as a shock when she slid into his side of the booth and placed her small hands on either side of his face. For the first time, she could see the pain in his eyes.

There were pools of tears waiting to break free, and the memories hidden inside of him were coming to the surface.

“If you ever need me, you call me. I don’t care what time of day it is, I’m here for you, Billy,” she said sternly, watching him carefully. “Your dad is an asshole, and you and Max deserve a hell of a lot better than that.”

“Susan does too. She’s too nice for Neil.”

“And Susan. Hell, I’ll marry her if she’s looking for somebody.”

Billy laughed softly, “yeah, that’ll really make Neil happy. Asshole can’t even watch me look in a mirror without throwing some gay slur at me.”

“What a butt muncher,” Y/N grumbled.

Billy couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sight. She looked so grumpy, so protective. So beautiful.

“You’re the only one who knows, Y/N,” he whispered to her, allowing himself to melt into the feeling of her delicate hands on his face.

“It’s safe with me, Hargrove. Promise.”

It was that moment, that Billy realized, after many months of infatuation with the woman, he would do anything for her.

He had hit the bottom, fallen from such a height for her and he didn’t want to come back up.

And there, in the small diner at 5AM on a Saturday morning, he kissed her.

Delicately.

He would never forget the taste of syrup on her lips as their eyes both closed and they relaxed into the contact.

Tag list: @booksandfandomsarelife1 @originalwhore @http-cherries @cynthianokamaria @ietss @theatrechic26 @winter-captain-01 @thelastemzy @quaintflor @infinitelycharmed23 @mantlereid @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #dacre montgomery #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst

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xfandomwritingsx · 4 years

Text

A Diamond Tint - Lee Christmas - Part One

-gif source-

Description: Learning Christmas is engaged was not part of your evening plans.

Warnings/Labels: None really

Approx. Word Count: 1,800

A/N: So this is something I've kept hidden away for quite a while. I'm throwing this first part out here to see if there's any interest.

You hear his motorcycle from a few streets away, the familiar rev bringing a smile to your face. You finish tying your hair back and shimmy into your jeans, leaving your t-shirt untucked. You’d only arrived a few hours earlier, this being your first chance it change into some relaxing clothes for the evening. You’re looking forward to the night, always happy to be back with the guys, just drinking and shooting the shit. There’s not much else that feels straight-up like home.

You wait until you can hear the garage door opening and his motorcycle pulling in before you make your way back to everyone. You pause at the top of the stairs, looking over the railing for him. He’s already pulled his helmet off and swung his leg over his bike, walking to approach the guys.

“I thought I heard Christmas was coming early this year,” you called to him. He looks around for a moment, surprised by the sound of your voice. When his eyes land on you at the top of your stairs, there’s a smile on his face. You start to descend, letting your hand slide along the rail as you keep your eyes on him.

“Darling, every woman knows I never come early.” The innuendo in his voice is clear and brings a wide smile on your face while the rest of the guys holler or whistle in response. They’re no stranger to your flirting. Hell, you’ve been doing it for years. Barney, however, still cringes.

“Hey now,” he scolds. “Still my daughter, yeah?” You roll your eyes at him, but Lee doesn’t even turn to acknowledge he said anything. Barney just takes another drink from his beer with an annoyed look on his face.

“It’s good to see you, Christmas,” you tell him in a more conversational tone. You come up to him and throw your arms around his neck.

“You too, slugger.” He returns your hug and the woodsy smell of his aftershave fills you senses. Another familiar sensation of home. The leather of his jacket is chilled from the ride over, but you can feel the heat of him seep through when the hug lasts a little longer than it should. “What are you doing here?” he asks when you finally break apart. You motion over to Barney as you step away.

“Pops needs my help,” you explain.

“Hold on a minute,” he chimes in, holding up his hand. “Who came to who?” You cock your hip out and smile playfully at your father.

“I brought you a target and told you that you’d need my help if you went after him. And you are. So you need me.” This time it’s his turn to roll your eyes, knowing better than to try to argue with you. He raised one hell of a smart and stubborn ass woman. It has both its benefits and downsides. You turn your attention back to Lee with a tilt of your head. “Ready for a drink?” He gives a nod.

“Always.”

The first part of the night passes easily just like it has every time you remember. You’ve been around these men since you were a teenager and officially got into the business, popping in and out on jobs in your twenties. These nights are a lot of alcohol and a lot of casual bullshitting. Knives get thrown. Trash talk gets spewed. And occasionally there’s some light to heavy flirting between you and Christmas.

You grew up with a crush on him. Everyone knew it because as a typical young girl, you didn’t exactly hide it well. He was always polite about it, never harshly shooting you down, but also never leading you on. And then you weren’t around for a couple of years. You’d gone out on your own, training and doing some solo jobs to prove yourself to your father, who still tried to push you away from this life. When you came back, you came back a different person; matured with some blood on your hands. And suddenly he wasn’t looking at you the same as he did before.

You bonded easily, quickly. Instead of refusing your requests to teach you to throw knives, now he’d offer without prompting. You stayed up late a lot of nights just talking. You gelled together during jobs. You were friends as much as you were family. The flirting just followed naturally with your personalities.

Everyone believes it’s a harmless habit and doesn’t bat an eye at it, except Barney once in a while, but that’s mostly out of obligation. For the most part, they’re right. Nothing’s ever happened between you and you never suspect it will, but for you, at least, there’s still that deep rooted desire for it to come to fruition. There are some nights where you think that just maybe, he does too. Like when you’re alone and he drops the too-kid-like nickname of Slugger in favor of the slightly-inappropriate Babygirl.

Tonight though, the subtle winks across the room and blatant smiles back and forth are interrupted by the mention of Lacy, whom he’s apparently still seeing. You choke down the beer you’d been swallowing and wave a hand to stop the conversation from moving on as you take your propped up foot off the table you’re perched on.

“Hold on! You’re still with that woman?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yeah.” You can hear the slight defensiveness coming out. “So what?”

“God, Christmas! Why?” It’s hard to keep your disgust from your voice and the little smiles at the ground from the rest of the team don’t escape you. “She’s one of those girls that just thinks it’s cool to have a bad boy boyfriend.” You cringe at just the thought of her and take another swig of your beer.

“Fiancé,” he corrects just a hair quieter than before.

“Shit!” Is he kidding? “You’re really going to marry her?” There’s a pit in your stomach now and your disbelieved smile starts to fade, the humor bleeding away.

“That’s the plan,” he confirms. You chew your bottom lip and look away, unsure what else to say. You’re still trying to process the very idea of him marrying that woman if you’re honest. “What’s with the look?” he asks pointedly. “The hell’s your problem?” You take a second and simply shrug.

“Look, you’re family just like the rest of these upstanding gentlemen.” You wave your hand holding your beer out to room. A couple of them chuckle and raise their own drinks to you. “I don’t like when family’s being stupid and you? You’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now.” You hop off the table and chug the rest of your beer, ignoring the way his face scrunches up. “Anyone else need a refill?” The question works to break the tense silence and move the conversation elsewhere.

His eyes still watch you and there’s an uncomfortable tension that replaces the light, friendly feel you normally have. You try to ignore it, but at the end of the night when the music’s died down and you’re gathering glasses and bottles into the kitchen sink, he comes up behind you.

“What’s wrong with Lacy?” You sigh heavily, but don’t turn around to face him. You think about it for a few moments, trying to find the words you want. Once you’ve gathered your thoughts, you spin on your heels and place your hands on the counter now behind you.

“Does she even know you?” you ask softly. You’re trying really hard not to sound aggressive or accusatory, which is hard to do after consuming alcohol.

“Of course she does!” he scoffs and throws his head back. His defensive reaction irritates you.

“Yeah? Does she know your kill rate?” That seems to stop him and the answer is clear on his face. You continue before he can refute you. “She ever see you after a mission gone wrong? Patch you up?” You suspect the answer to that is also no because he’s been known to show up at the door of your apartment regularly to have you help patch him. “She ever see your face after you got the shit beat out of you in Slovakia or did you hide that from her?” His face is stiffening, his jaw starting to grind, but you’re not done. “She know that your left ankle pops all the damn time because you broke it being a show off and jumping off a waterfall in the jungle in your twenties?” You point down to the offending appendage and he tries to resist the urge to roll it. You pause as he soaks in your words and when he doesn’t come back at you, you try again a little softer. “You want a partner in life but she can’t be that when she doesn’t know you. She seriously believes her badass boyfriend-”

“Fiancé,” he corrects and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever. She thinks you just go on exotic trips and punch bad guys.”

“Sometimes I do that.” It’s hard not to laugh at him being a smartass, but you manage.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you tell him, the words half a plea as much as a demand. You don’t want him to make a mistake and you can feel it in your gut that she would be. “Do you know what she does when you’re gone for months at a time?” His face snaps back to the angry, defensive and points a finger at you.

“She’s not cheating on me.” It sounds harsh, demanding, like he’s telling himself, reminding him as much as he is trying to convince you.

“Bullshit,” you spit. “Pops has said it, now I’m gonna say it. It’s in her blood.” Why can’t he see this? All the signs are there in his face and instead he buries his head in the sand and buys a damn diamond ring. “You ever come home early and she ain’t there?” He looks away from you and the look in his eyes answers the question, just like it always does. “Never wondered where she was?” you press gently.

“Ya know,” he breathes heavily before turning his head back to you. “You shouldn’t be such a bitch just because you got a little crush on me.” There’s not nearly as much bite and malice in his tone as there are his words. You throw your head back and scoff at him anyways.

“Do you really want to stop and examine who checks who out when I’m in town?” He tries to hide a smile, but it cracks through and he tilts his head with a shrug, not really having a defense for that. It allows both of you to slip back into a less prickly atmosphere. “Look,” you start again. “I’m not trying to be a bitch.” You reach forward and grab his arm, curling your fingers around his bicep and squeezing gently. “I just care about you and this girl is nothing but trouble.” He rolls his eyes away from you, but doesn’t move away from your grip. “Everyone knows it, I’m just the one saying it.” You can tell the conversation is over when he doesn’t offer a response and doesn’t turn his eyes back to you. So you give his arm a pat and go to leave.

#lee christmas #lee christmas imagine #the expendables #the expendables imagine

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stevenismyboy · 4 years

Text

The Haunted Arcade.

a/n: Maybe I shouldn't start another au when I haven't finished the first one... but the temptation was too strong! I am very happy with how it turned out and that I managed to move my favorite cartoon to the Stranger Things world. I’ve also made teenagers here not too fond of each other, but without exaggeration, just for the sake of history. Feel free to write me if you liked it and who do you think is a specific member of the Mystery Inc.!

summary: Scooby-Doo au!- When an arcade in Hawkins is attacked by a ghost in a mask, nobody believes and wants to help the terrified Y/N. No one except Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, smart Robin, photographer Jonathan and beautiful Nancy. They definitely know something about monsters. You can find my Masterlist here.

Fridays were crazy. No matter how much time was left to close the arcade-it could be twenty, ten or even five minutes-and people still wouldn't want to go home. They pressed the buttons on the slot machines with incredible speed, unable to stop until they had a score that would satisfy them.

So yes, Fridays have been crazy. The gaming room was so overcrowded that the kids waited in line to play their favorite game. Working there was pretty funny. Looking at kids who were running through the room like puppies always made you happy. On Fridays, children were not so happy though because big, rude and older teenagers occupied their favourite play area.

On that cool, spooky evening, when the wind outside made terrible sounds, the room was full of people until the very end. Steve Harrington came as every week with Robin Buckley. They were standing by the Dig Dug, which Dustin Henderson was looking forward to. Nancy Wheeler came in with her boyfriend, Jonathan Byers. She was completely unable to handle Pac Man. She had been coming here for a while and Jonathan patiently tried to teach her. Their brothers, Will and Mike were trying to hide their laughter.

You looked at the watch over your head, watching as the blue hand was dangerously close to 11:00 p.m. Five... four... three... two... one... game over.

“I'm very sorry, but we're closing for today!” you shouted, clapping your hands. The music stopped playing. Keith turned on the regular lights instead of the colored ones, which kept the room in dark glow. Everyone moaned loudly, not wanting to leave yet. “I'm really sorry, but you're all welcome tomorrow! Let's give our hands and eyes a rest for today and be ready to play next time, am I right?”

“Son of a bitch. I didn't get to play the Dig Dug” Claudia Henderson's kid walked out without saying goodbye. You laughed quietly, holding the glass door for outgoing customers. “She beat me again. I feel like loser” Lucas Sinclair pointed out his red-haired, proud girlfriend.

“It'll be better next time. If you're gonna practice!” you yelled after him. “We both know he'll never be able to beat my record” Max snapped. “I wanted to be nice” you said so quietly that only she would hear you. She laughed and gived you a high five. The crowd was going out, talking to each other. Steve tried to squeeze ahead to catch up with Dustin, but he stayed to finally accompany Robin.

“Good night, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope?” Steve asked, going to the exit. His dark eyes were shining in a sharp light. He was always nice when he came and paid for the tickets for himself and his friend. They've been coming here regularly since Dustin brought them here. Always in his company.

“Could you make sure that Henderson gets to Dig Dug first tomorrow? That big boy didn't even let him play once” Robin stabbed Steve hard in the back with her index finger. “I'll do my best. But you know the rule, Buckley. A favor for the tip”. “How could I forget. See you tomorrow!” the girl smiled. Will Byers sneaked under your shoulder, running out with Mike so fast that the door almost slammed in your face. “Sorry. Sometimes they can be too excited” Jonathan smiled shyly. Nancy was trying to put a coat next to the door, then they both went outside, where it was completely dark. The lights of the lanterns highlighted the wet asphalt. It rained for a good two hours, the air was crisp and fresh.

“You're sure you can handle it yourself? I can wait until you close the place” Keith crushed a pack of cheese crisps in his hands. The crumbs fell on the carpet you're about to clean. That's what working with Keith was like. He wanted to help when he was just making things worse. You sent him a forced smile, shaking your head. “I'll be fine. I'm gonna do some cleaning and I'll walk home. I'm a big girl”.

“Brave enough of you. I'd be scared if I were you. Hawkins is not safe... especially at night” Keith muttered, closing the glass door behind him. His words made you shiver. He didn't say anything unusual, but... but maybe if it was a little brighter outside, you wouldn't have to be afraid that coming home alone might not end well. Just in case you turned the key in the lock to make yourself feel safer.

You grabbed a broom to clean the floor from crips, popcorn and cookies. In normal light you could see the dried spots of spilled coke in some places. Keith unnecessarily scared you. You're alone, but you're safe. Just turn the key on the door so no one gets in and-

Something sneaked in between the slot machines. Someone's shadow, too fast to look at it or recognize the shape. You stopped sweeping so that the broomstick wouldn't drown out anything... or anyone else in the room.

“Hello? Is there someone here?” you asked loudly, swallowing your saliva too loud. The wind outside was trying to get in, it was bumping into the glass panes, shrieking too loud. There's no way anyone could stay inside. The kids repeatedly wanted to hide here to spend the night in their dream place, but they never succeeded. And again. Something went behind your back and you turned around so fast that your neck started hurting. Whoever was inside hit a row of vending machines with their shoulder now, and they started knocking terribly at each other. “Who's here? Come on... this is not funny at all!”

The lights went out. Well, actually, they only went out for a while to light up again. Someone was trying to change their color, so the whole rainbow was flickering before your eyes. “Keith, I swear to God, if this is just some stupid joke...” you let go of the broom, running to the counter to call somebody, anybody when the music started playing in the room. But not one you had on the tapes. A terrible rasp of the violin combined with a scream. You stumbled on the carpet and leaned your back against the counter, covering your ears with your hands. You clenched your eyelids tightly, trying not to scream. Your heart was pounding on your chest, and there was no one around to help you. The lights kept changing their colour, someone's loud steps were breaking through the music. For a moment... for one short moment you could swear that you felt someone's hot breath, heavy sigh on your neck. Your eyes started tearing.

And all of a sudden, everything went quiet. The lights stopped flickering, the music went off. It seemed like there was no one inside again, and the only sound you could hear was a whistle of wind. You put your hands on your knees, looking around for a few more minutes. And then you called the police.

“I don't know which way he came in. I was alone, and... I can swear I shut myself in to finish cleaning up. All the customers had already left and my coworker did it too like... half an hour ago”.

“I see” it was the only thing Hopper said after your statement. The notebook was trembling in his hand, he was holding a lit cigarette in the other. He dragged a lot of smoke inside his lungs, nodding his head at two officers coming out of the arcade. “You got anything, guys?”

“It looks like nothing's gone. There's no shortage of money in the cash register" said the first one. “Nothing's broken. No machine, the windows are all right too” said the other. “Some signs of a burglary? Footprints, broken lock on the door?Anything?” Hopper asked. They both turned their heads. Sheriff turned to you with a sigh. He rested his hands on his knees and leaned over to be about your height.

“Listen. It's really late. I understand you might be tired. It happens. Sometimes I see my own grandmother when I'm sitting at the police station until two o'clock in the morning and I don't drink coffee, and it's just Flo who insists on watching over me and the boys all night. We'll take you home and forget about the case, okay?” “Forget it?” you asked in disbelief. The policeman blinked. A cigarette trembled in his mouth. “Someone was there! I didn't make it up! I know what the threat is to call the police for no reason. I wouldn't call if nothing had happened. And something definitely happened. Maybe it wasn't a burglary, maybe...”

“Maybe your coworker forgot his car keys, went back to the arcade, came through the back, took them and left. Could that be?” Hopper raised one eyebrow. The annoyance took in you like a wild wave. One more minute, and it'll flood you completely.

“I was scared. What if that someone comes back here again? Aren't you going to do anything about it?” “I would if I had the evidence. But I don't see them. I'm sorry, kid”. “Don't call me that” you clenched your teeth. “You won't even call my boss?” “I don't see a reason. We'll just scare him off. You need sleep and rest. Take the day off tomorrow. You'll sleep everything off and you'll see that you'll stop seeing ghosts”. “What about the lights?” you asked. Hopper stopped on the way to his van. He threw out a cigarette and trampled it with his shoe. His mind was definitely somewhere else.

“I'll take care of it myself. I'm an electrician-slutter specialist" he opened the door to his police car. His two officers were already waiting in their own. “So what's it gonna be? Are you coming with us?”

“I still don't understand why you don't believe me, Hopper” you muttered, looking at the road. “For you, it's Chief Hopper, kid. Are you coming or not?” he opened the door wide. The inside smelled like coffee and cigarettes, but it looked a lot better than the prospect of walking all the way home alone. You got in without a word more, pressing your forehead against the glass. Day off. Sounds wonderful.

The boss didn't find out about anything. Nobody at home noticed that the sheriff of Hawkins Police picked you up after work and you had no one to tell about the adventure of yesterday. It was a necessity to go to work. Your heart was beating like crazy when you crossed the arcade. You were sick just of thinking you had to sit in the same place as yesterday, look at the same room... where you weren't alone last night.

Steve noticed immediately that something was wrong. When he saw you the other day, you were smiling at every customer, helping to start a game, or cleaning screens of unused machines. Today, you didn't even move. It's like you're glued to your chair. He looked at you with curiosity, waiting for any sign that there was nothing to worry about. For a smile, a head up, a joke aimed at the kids. Nothing.

“You'd come to work if you were sick?” he asked suddenly, biting a straw from his drink. “Of course not. I'm not suicidal” Robin snorted. She put her tongue out, in the corner of her mouth, as if it would improve her dexterity. She squinted her eyes at Donkey Kong's character. “Why?” “Y/N seems to be some kind of... absent” he shrugged his shoulder. “I don't like it.”

“I don't want to be mean, dingus, but you weren't optimistic when you came to work either”. “I know, but... I don't think that's the point. Something must have happened-” “Why don't you come up and ask her? I see you want to” his friend touched his arm. Steve put his hand on his hip and twisted his head after a moment of silence. “I doubt she likes to confide in random customers”. “You're unbelievable. You want to ask how she feels, you don't invite her on a date. Unless that's what you mean and that's why you're so nervous about it-” Robin wanted to say something more, but she didn't have a chance. Nancy and Jonathan were passing by and Steve's ex-girlfriend ran into his friend. A little bit of her orange juice landed on Robin's shirt. Steve took in the air with a swish.

“Oh, my God, I'm so sorry” Nancy put her hand in her mouth. She tried to look for the tissues in her purse to help. “Sometimes it can be so crowded here...”

“No worries. It was just my favorite shirt” Robin shrugged her shoulders. “She said she's sorry. You can wash it” Jonathan said. He probably didn't mean anything by it, but Steve involuntarily clenched his jaw. It's in the same way for a while now. Steve hold a grudge for Jonathan, so he's rude to him. Robin doesn't really like Nancy, so even if she's trying, sometimes her reluctance comes out. And they start arguing. He couldn't explain why it's happening every time when they bump into each other. Why he still can't leave his past behind and argue with someone who used to be the most important person in the world to him? He couldn't explain why it's happening. But it happened. More than once.

“You don't have to be nervous, man. Nobody wanted to say something bad” Steve replied calmly. “I doubt it. I don't know what else to do to stop Miss Buckley getting angry” Nancy tangled her hands up on her chest. Max and El turned to them for a moment, but they stopped eavesdropping when they saw the fight was going on between the same people as usual.

“I'm just going to start” Robin smiled at her, wanting to take a step towards her. Steve held her hand, seeing you rise up and he whined. He didn't want to cause you any trouble. Not today, for sure. Even though he stopped Robin, you've already gotta get to them.

“I don't want to intrude, but... kids are looking at you, guys. You can't yell at each other inside. If you have something to explain to each other, please do it in the parking lot” Steve nodded his head, feeling like he was about to apologize to a teacher in grade school. Jonathan clenched his mouth in a narrow line.

“I'm calm. But someone's nervous” Nancy said, pulling Jonathan away. “You heard that?” Robin squealed outraged, trying to get back in the game. “Damn it...” “You're gonna fight again?” Dustin asked, raising his eyes from over his game. “Dustin!” you all shouted at once to silence him. You breathed deeply.

“I'm sorry, but if you can't calm down, you really-” you stopped when the light was flashing over you. Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal. But not after last night. The lights started to change color, somebody was scrolling through the tape on the equipment, so the speakers were still scrolling through the same song. And suddenly the kids started screaming.

A tall figure jumped on two slot machines, miraculously maintaining balance on them. The guy's face- because it certainly wasn't the figure of a woman- was behind a ghostly mask, made of glued together cables and electric wires that shone in the glow of colored lights in the game room. Steve experienced too much in his life to believe that anything that now was on slot machines could be a monster, but when he looked at the man in the mask the only word that came to his mind was: a ghost.

Frightened children ran to the back of the arcade where they felt safe, that is, with you. Together with Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan, you tried to take as many of them as you could so that no one would get hurt. The Phantom standing above you was dressed in a cape that shone in all the colors of Pac Man's evil ghosts. The figure turned to all the gathered, looking at you with empty, dark eyes.

“If you don't leave this place within a week... I will make sure that every person present in this room meets a terrible fate” he said with a rough, unpleasant voice. Your pulse accelerated to such an extent that you were afraid your heart would jump out of your chest when a light bulb broke just above your head.

“Watch your heads!” Steve yelled and the kids covered themselves with their hands when all the light bulbs in the room started to crack, plunging you all into total darkness. One of the kids started to cry. You heard another crack and dared to open your eyes. The windshield of the place splashed into a tiny poppy. Three gaming machines were lying on the ground, the cables they were plugged into were cut. All of this was done just in a few seconds. You looked at Steve, who was breathing deeply, not knowing what to say, what to do to calm down after what had just happened.

“Jinkies” Robin muttered quietly, being the only one who dared to speak.

Taglist: @mochminnie @queen1054 @krazykatkay456 @ghostineleven @sydzygy @the-almond-dinger @l0ve-0f-my-life

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley imagine #jonathan byers #jonathan byers ima #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #dustin henderson #dustin henderson imagine

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