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mysticalrunawayprincess · 4 years ago

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Everything He Ever Wanted

Hi Guys! This is a new Jay Park fanfic I’m working on (because we are in a serious shortage and us girls need our fantasy fix!) Its about Jay falling in love and wanting to settle down, and all the headache and heartache that ensues (cue lots of angst, sexy times and love :P). I post the stories on Wattpad as I’m not sure if I’d be able to post the full story on here (Tumblr guidelines and stuff) but I am going to be posting the first chapter here and then every time I publish a new chapter I’ll post the links for you to read. The story is for 18ANDOVER! If you are not 18 this story isn’t for you (sorry). And Jay if you are reading this: its pure fantastical fiction! I don’t mean to embarrass or cast aspersions on you in any kind of way. If you are reading this (PLEASE dont lol), I hope I did your fantasy character justice :P. For the rest of you, happy reading!

Oh BTW: New Chapters every Friday, but you get this one a day early just because I love y’all!!! xxxxxxxxxx

1. Home Is Where The Heart was

An exhausted sigh left Jay's lips in a rush, as he entered through the open door and dropped his bags on the heated marble flooring.

Having been away on tour for 6 weeks Jay had a lot of bags to carry; all heavy, all full of laundry.

He paused and took a breath in, savouring the smell of home, the smell of Her.

She hadn't been home in a long time. This was no longer to be Her home; hell it hadn't even been Her "home" for longer than a few weeks, most of which she had spent elsewhere (or rather somewhere else). But since She had been the last person in the house before Jay had left for the tour, Her scent still lingered. And it was this scent that invaded Jay's senses, coiling around his synapses and holding them at ransom as his mind cast back to the last moment he saw Her.

Jay stood watching Her leave through the polished glass doors of his office building, Her words still ringing in his ears like a death knell, "We can't do this any more Jay, I have to go back and live my life..." She took a pause here, her perfectly soft and plump lips quivering momentarily, almost as if to hold Her back from completing the sentence,"... and you have to live yours."

Now the thing is, when Jay first saw Her walk through the doors; Her soft hair in which he loved to bury his face now framing Her face in a twist-out that beautifully rippled in the light breeze of the evening night air as She stepped through the glass door, his heart had soared and swooped the same way it did every day since the very first day he had seen Her.

His face broke into an unstoppable smile as he outstretched his arms to embrace Her, automatically breathing in Her scent as She stepped into his embrace, clinging to him as though She would be otherwise flung into the furthest reaches of space.

Jay hadn't noticed the shine of unshed tears demanding to be released. He hadn't noticed the taxi outside, and he certainly didn't know that it was taking Her to the airport.

He was oh-so blissfully unaware of all of these little details.

She had been going back and forth with this for weeks, months even, ever since their relationship had first begun showing signs of becoming more serious (unbeknownst to Jay). And try as She might, She knew this couldn't work; there were too many moving parts, too many things to consider and too many sacrifices to be made. She thought it best that She end this now before it got too serious and whilst they were still able to at least salvage some sort of friendship from the wreckage.

Noticing She was lost in thought, Jay nudged Her, asking if She were OK.

Now on the way over here, She had already told herself that She wasn't going to cry and do the whole melodramatic stuff; that She was going to keep it light and factual and hoped he would understand.

And so when She quickly lifted Her head to meet his eye, Her face had already settled into a bright and easy smile, belying the ton of bricks that She was about to drop onto the smitten and unsuspecting Jay Park.

Now, as he watched Her leave after begging Her to reconsider ("... you don't have to do this..."). His heart beat harder with every step She took to the waiting cab outside. He was frozen helpless, unable to stop this series of Very Unfortunate and Fucked Up Events.

He watched the taxi drive away, taking with it the only piece of true happiness that he had ever felt in a long, long time.

And he had let it happen.

BZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The vibration of Jay's phone broke him out of his reverie with a snap. He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, glancing at the screen as he made his way to the kitchen.

BZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

He paused with his hand on the handle of the refrigerator, his thumb hovering indecisively over the phone screen.

BZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

He rolled his eyes and pressed the green button, putting the phone to his ear at the same time as he pulled open the refrigerator door.

"Heeeeeyyyyyy bro, whatcha doin'?" the gravelly voice of Jay's business partner Mike came through the phone as vivid as if he were standing in the room, rather than 5,000 miles away.

"Hey, Mike" Jay chuckled. "Not much, just got back."

"How was the tour?"

"Yeah it was good. The guys killed as usual," said Jay, into an empty fridge.

"Did you get any numbers?" Jay could practically hear the Cheshire Cat smile on Mike's face as he asked this question.

He sighed as he closed the refrigerator door and made his way to the living room. "No I didn't get any numbers Mike" Jay said, plopping down dejectedly onto his plush sofa, allowing his head to fall back, eyes staring straight at the ceiling.

"Jay, you are really wasting your unlimited pussy allowance, man!" groaned Mike. Jay chuckled in response, closing his eyes and wearily raising a hand to rub them. "Dude you should be literally DROWNING in pussy!"

"I'm too busy for all that extra shit, Mike." Jay sighed.

"Extra shit? Dude." Mike was all seriousness now, leaving a pause so pregnant that it caused Jay to sit up and open his eyes. "You are never, too tired, for pussy!" Jay fell back into his original position, another exhausted sigh leaving his lips as he landed except this time, he had a little smile on his face.

Mike's dry humour was a welcome salve right now anyway.

"Plus, Jay; I'm married."

"I know Mike."

"So that means I'm living vicariously through you, my dude!"

"Mike-"

"Look, forget about all that anyway" Mike interrupted Jay, sensing he was not perhaps his usual playful self and wondering if he had perhaps struck a nerve.

Mike was quite intuitive, even if he sometimes came off as oblivious. In his world, he found that feigning ignorance can sometimes be a better strategy around people, especially when dealing with the types of sensitive and high-flying businessmen he was used to dealing with on a daily basis.

Or when his friend had something - or someone - on his mind that may need to be discussed away over copious amounts of alcohol sometime in the near-future.

"Remember you have the interview with Vogue Korea about the new AOMG site and app," said Mike making a mental note to revisit this again at a later time.

"Yeah" sighed Jay gratefully, thankful for the change in subject. "When is it again?"

"Friday. 9.30AM"

Jay pulled his phone away from his ear and checked the screen. The interview would be in three days time.

"Cool, my assistant already has the details anyway. I'll check my emails to see when the car will be arriving."

"Sweet. Hit me up later, so we can talk a bit about the Nike deal. But until then; GET SOME SLEEP."

Click

Mike ended the call.

Jay allowed the phone to slide from his ear onto the sofa next to him, bringing both hands up to gently rub his face before dropping his head back and allowing his arms to drop onto the sofa back. The huge floor to ceiling windows directly opposite bathed him in the light of the setting sun, as he allowed his exhausted and aching body to sink deeper into his seat.

As his mind drifted, he remembered a particular evening spent on this same sofa during a thunderstorm not too long after he had first met Her. In fact, there were many evenings he remembered being spent on this sofa (not all of them as innocent as the particular evening he currently had in mind however, but all of them just as enjoyable).

Sharing one of those huge soft furry blankets that She loved so much, with a low fire burning in the marble wood-burning fireplace to the right of them.

She had been drinking Jack Daniel's, and he had been drinking soju, both just talking to and laughing with each other in an atmosphere of comfortability, while outside torrential rain pounded against the monolithic windows and brilliant forks of lightening spilt the charcoal grey and roiling sky, causing occasional rolls of thunder which reverberated throughout the building.

The dichotomy of the chaos on one side of the window pane, versus the serenity on the other hadn't been lost on either of them.

Every now again She would interrupt the freely-flowing conversation to point out a particularly spectacular lightning strike or a close roll of thunder would make Jay jump, which he would then try to disguise by acting as though he was just moving positions on the couch or picking up/putting down his glass (which She very politely acted like She did not notice, or turned away to hide Her smile - which he had gratefully appreciated).

Her being in Jay's house had been perfectly innocent at the time, having being introduced through his artist Jarv Dee, Jay had innately felt at ease around Her. She had an easy-going and relaxed nature, with a quick wit and genuine smile. He became further intrigued when he found out that She was a full-stack developer and promptly discussed possibly working together on something some time. Which is how the new AMOG website and H1gher app came about.8

That was exactly one year ago from today and 5 months from the day She ripped out Jay's heart and stomped all over it.

"We can't do this Jay..."

Her words echoed around his head like a death knell.

Jay had spent every waking moment carefully analysing every detail of their interactions - every facial expression, every vocal inflection - in the hopes of being able to at least understand WHY She had done this.

Did he say something - do something - to scare her off?

How, when things were going so good between them, could she just end everything and leave so suddenly?

Jay was aware that he was getting older but, he hadn't really ever thought of what the future would look like for him and who he would want to settle down with. The kind of jet-setting lifestyle Jay led meant he had the luxury of being able to avoid thinking about such things under the guise of being "too busy". And with the fast life Jay led, the women he came across had been just as fast.

That is until he had met Her.

Meeting Her had made him truly question his life dynamic, made him want to change his dynamic.

Made him think about when would be the time to put down the mic for good and step back to make way for the younger artists coming up behind him?

Jay had almost single-handedly built an entire musical empire in a foreign land, which meant he really had to think about who it was he wanted to share that with.

A thought he had never needed to have before Her.

She had awakened something in him that he had been confident was dormant, something which he had convinced his concerned parents and nagging brother he wasn't quite ready for.

She made him think more of the life after. After all the parties, interviews, world travelling, and screaming fans.

Of the life he lived when he was just Jay, the dorky kid from Seattle.

Who did he want to come home to? Who did he want waiting for him when the lights had faded and the music stopped?

The morning after the lightening storm had been the first time Jay had woken up to Her. They had fallen asleep where they sat in Jay's plush sofa, having spent the evening bonding over their respective careers, old 90s RnB and alcohol. Seeing her head resting upon the opposite armrest of his sofa, the golden rays of the early morning sun illuminating the golden undertones of Her skin, made something inside him sing. He knew he liked having Her around, liked hearing Her voice, liked knowing she was OK.

He loved being in her presence, hearing Her laugh, seeing Her focused frown whilst She was working.

He loved smelling Her, breathing Her in whenever he could.

He loved hearing Her footsteps on his hardwood floor.

He hated not knowing why it went wrong.

But in just a few days the H1gher app and new AOMG website was due to go live, meaning She would be coming back to Korea for the launch.

Meaning She and Jay would be in each other's company for the first time since Her departure.

Meaning Jay would not only have to face Her, but once She left he'd have to relive the pain of her leaving all over again.

Jay groaned inwardly.

This should be fun, he thought humourlessly.

Jay reached for his phone beside him and dialled an all too familiar number.

"Hello?" Came the answer down the line.

"Hey, is she free?"

"Good evening, Mr Park. Yes she is free. Regular timing?"

Jay let out a barely audible sigh, his 1000th in the 45 minutes he'd been home. He wouldn't need too long. "Yeah."

"She will arrive in 30 minutes."

Jay ended the call.

He stood and made his way to his drinks cabinet, pouring himself some Hennessey before walking over to the window to take a sip, surveying the evening sky and awaiting his visitor.

The objective of the visit was purely for the purposes of release.

And as Jay's buzzer rang twenty-five minutes later, he knew that's all anyone who wasn't Her could offer him.

#jay park #jaypark #aomg #fanfic #angst #emotional #rapper queen #romance #relationship #series daddyvibes

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giasonesdream · 6 years ago

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Grateful, Thankful, Blessed- Whatever

Genderbent BTS Starring: Fem! Jungkook x Fem! Jimin, ft. Fem! Taehyung x Yoongi (mentioned) and Yoongi x Hoseok (mentioned) | AO3 LINK

Genre: Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Fingering, Cunnilingus, mentions of Polyamoury

Summary: “You’re always so soft, Ggukie.” Jimin’s words come out hushed, a whisper, only for the younger to hear. “So warm,” she continues.

Her hand is so light when it moves to Jeongguk’s neck. A hitched breath comes out automatically along with the goosebumps along the skin under Jimin’s featherlight fingertips

.“Always wanna touch you. Feel so good. Do you like when I touch you?"

Jeongguk doesn’t want to talk about it, the brace on her right wrist. It’s black and bulky, but she wants to not think about it, not talk about why she has it on to begin with.

Instinctively, however, she reaches for the door with her right hand, pauses when she remembers what her doctor had said: Do not put any pressure on it for the time being.

With a heavy sigh, she drops her hand, going in again for the door with her left hand.

“I got it,” a familiar voice calls from behind. It’s Namjoon, the guy she mildly had a crush on when she first met him. Her feelings have since then dissipated, but she would be lying if her heart didn’t flutter when he reached from behind her, long fingers clutching the brass handle and yanking the door open.

What neither of them expect, however, is that she’s standing too close to the door. Consequently, Namjoon’s act of kindness becomes that of terror when the wooden plank knocks into her face.

The pain is immediate, and Jeongguk goes to rub at her forehead, but she uses her right hand and-

“Fucking hell,” she hisses, not sure if the pain in her wrist is more potent than that of her throbbing head. She doesn’t even realize that Namjoon has taken to pulling her away from the entrance, cradling her face to assess the damage.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Namjoon’s voice sounds panicked, urgent. It’s wispy and deep, soothing.

Jeongguk opens her eyes, sees that Namjoon has bent to meet her height. If she still liked this guy, she would probably have a nice blush creeping up her cheeks.

Now, though, she simply rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her space. “I’m fine, Joon. Don’t worry. I won’t sue.”

He huffs out a sigh of relief, as if he’d actually been worried about that possible outcome. “Cool. So, what happened to your wrist?”

She snaps her head up, sending a glare in his direction. But her expression quickly changes when she sees the innocence in his own face. There’s no need to snap at him when he just wants to know.

“I...my wrist got stiff from playing video games. Doc said it’s some slight carpal tunnel; nothing some stretches and this brace won’t help.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. Jeongguk’s doctor had said that her video game activities were for sure a factor in what lead her to needing the splint in the first place.

That seems to humour Namjoon, who tries again at opening the door. They’re safe to enter this time around, and they make their way to their lecture hall. “No kidding. You can get carpal tunnel from playing video games?”

Jeongguk raises her eyebrows. You have no idea. “You can get carpal tunnel from some of the wildest shit, man.” If only he knew the real reason why she had gone to the doctor in the first place.

“How will you get through your dance classes?”

Thankfully she only had one of those this semester. She was more worried about getting through her other classes, the ones that she made a habit of taking notes in. “I’ll be fine. I only have to keep this on for two weeks. But now that you mention it,” she pauses to grin sweetly, sliding so that she’s flush against Namjoon’s side. “It would be super nice if I had a friend take notes for me in class?”

The older chuckles. “Like you don’t already copy my notes in our class regardless.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

She doesn’t need to hear the answer, trusting that she’ll have her friends to help her get through this ridiculous period in her life.

They finally make it to their lecture hall, students filtering in. They take their seats in the general vicinity near the front of the class. If Namjoon hadn’t been in this class, Jeongguk would have situated herself near the back. Math was never her strong suit, let alone theoretical math like Statistics. But it was a requirement for her while it was merely and General Education class for her senior, Namjoon.

Truthfully, Jeongguk does normally end up copying Namjoon’s notes, as it seems the professor normally goes too fast for her liking.

A student that normally sits close to the front also asks her about her wrist. And so it begins. She really rather not talk about it.

“Do I need to feed you, too?” Taehyung asks sarcastically. Her head is lowered as she examines a paper in her hand. It looks like a test she got back from her professor. All Jeongguk can see from her best friend’s furious scanning and flipping is that Taehyung seemed to have done really well on it, the feedback scrawled on the sheets saying things like “Excellent point!” or “You truly have an understanding of Carravagio”.

Jeongguk scoffs, leaning against the stone wall. “I think I can manage eating my burgers and ramyeon, Tae. But can you put my hair up for me?”

Taehyung accepts quietly, folding the test and putting it between her lips before grabbing the ponytail holder in Jeongguk’s fingers.

Jeongguk spots their spritely blonde friend heading towards them, and she waves as the shorter girl comes closer.

“Sorry you guys had to wait,” Jimin apologizes. Her eyes are already trained on Taehyung as she continues to explain. “Yoongi was late coming to meet up for our project today.”

Her eyes are accusatory, clearly assuming that Taehyung has something to do with that. The taller shrugs, taking the paper from her mouth. “I wasn’t with him today. My dick appointment is after lunch.”

“Which means no pizza for you?” Jeongguk guesses correctly, smiling when Taehyung hums in agreement. They all know that Taehyung has a sensitivity to lactose; hell, even Yoongi knows it. He’s stated time and time again that he doesn’t care, but Taehyung keeps her statement of, “I rather not have Bubbly Tummy while riding your dick”.

“So, then, why was he late?” Jimin pouts as she tries to contemplate the reason. Cute, Jeongguk thinks in her head. It’s not really a secret how whipped she is for slightly older friend. They first spoke to each other when they had a Beginner’s Modern Dance class. Park Jimin, having graduated from Busan’s most decorated performing arts school, definitely looked the part of a professional dancer. In some ways she stood out, chubby cheeks and lean features. Her curves were somehow pronounced yet soft, and Jeongguk couldn’t take her eyes off of her from the mirror reflection while their instructor introduced them to the class.

But when Jeongguk had gathered enough courage to introduce herself to the other, she was met with about as much shyness that Jeongguk had been feeling on the inside.

They became easy friends afterwards, especially since Taehyung - Jimin’s friend from high school - was Jeongguk’s roommate.

Has Jeongguk ever mentioned how lucky she is? Blessed? Whatever.

“Look, if I’m not on his dick, then he’s on Hoseok’s.” Taehyung states this matter-of-factly. Hoseok had been a new factor to the duo’s open relationship.

Rightfully so, then, that Jimin hadn’t put those two things together. “Right, Hoseok.” Then she scrunches her nose, following Taehyung as she begins to walk towards Student Center where the cafeteria is.

“Jesus, does the guy ever get to sleep? You and Hobi must be handfuls.”

Jeongguk watches as Taehyung looks down at her own chest, using her free hand to cup at one of her breasts. Just as that happens, Jeongguk feels Jimin’s arms wrap around her own. She pretends the shiver that sneaks up her spine is from the chill of the late autumn air, or that her own snicker is able to mask her tremors.

“I can’t confirm what Hoseok’s packin’, but thanks!” She turns back to flash a smile at Jimin before turning back to walk with a purpose. Right, now they’re on a time crunch, lest Taehyung be late for her rendezvous with Min Yoongi.

Jeongguk is forced to walk just a bit slower, given that Jimin clings to her arm, and she has shorter legs. Jimin has always been super touchy. So is Taehyung. Jeongguk remembers when the three of them hung out for the first time together last year, the youngest had assumed the friend duo were dating. Granted, it’s much more acceptable for girls to be touchy with each other, but they just seemed to take it to the next level, where people would stare too long at them.

But, not soon later, Taehyung came to their dorm room late into the night, sighing heavily with fresh hickies on her neck because she “met the most amazing guy”. That was when she discovered that Kim Taehyung was strictly dickly. She and Jimin were not dating; they just were super comfortable with each other and loved each other.

Jeongguk doesn’t remember when she became apart of that equation, became a person that Jimin and Taehyung considered close enough to become physically affectionate. It just felt natural when Jimin would sit on the youngest’s lap, cuddle into her side, hold her hand whenever they sat next to each other.

Now, as they walk to the student center, Jeongguk is hyper aware of the eyes that linger on them, the guys that do double takes, the ladies that stare at where they’re connected and give a curious look. People think they’re a couple. And Jeongguk isn’t ashamed of that fact.

If anything, she’s just sad that it’s not a reality.

“You gonna tell me how you messed up your wrist?” Jimin’s voice is soft, gentle. By this point, Jeongguk has gotten variations of the same question. On one hand she understands the curiosity, but she’s tired of having to lie every time. She wasn’t made for lying. She’s made for hiding. But she can’t hide the brace. It’s big and bulky.

Taehyung, seemingly not too far ahead to hear Jimin’s question, erupts in a fit of giggles, turning on her heels to walk backwards.

“Oh my god, dude, you will not believe it. Ggukie got carpal tunnel from mastur-”

“Mastering your ass at Overwatch!” Jeongguk shouts, interrupting her roommate and trying very hard to express with her stare to shut up just shut the fuck up!

Taehyung, bless her soul, has always been good at picking up on hints. Whether or not she chooses to actually play along is executively up to her, which is why it’s a relief when said sandy brown haired girl scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“You’re not that good, you know. I don’t even take the game as seriously as you do.” When she bumps into a student, she bows quickly before deciding to walk properly. “Besides,” she calls from over her shoulder. “You should be grateful that I accompanied you at the hospital.”

Jimin coos, seeming to not think too hard about the strange interaction. “Ah, carpal tunnel? I should’ve known. Seokjinnie has been complaining about his wrist, too.” Kim Seokjin was the graduate student in Jimin’s Bakery Club. And Namjoon’s boyfriend (see why that crush was short-lived...aside from clearly being into Jimin- what, who said that?). “And we need him for our next fundraiser. He doesn’t have time to be out of commission.”

Jeongguk looks down at the girl clung to her, a teasing smile on her features when Jimin blinks up. “Some friend you are.” That grants her a quick slap to her backside while Jimin quickly defends her love for her senior. Again, Jeongguk is very aware of the students that pass them, eyes lingering on them.

The atmosphere of the college is fairly accepting. Being in Itaewon is like another world, one where there’s so many minds that there really isn’t a way to live here unless you can tolerate and accept others. Even still, it’s not the most common thing to see; Jeongguk understands that. She’s just thankful that she can be in an area that lets her be herself. Even if herself is fawning over her clingy friend.

She’s super grateful.

Jeongguk slams the door shut, heaving her body against it as she throws her book bag to the floor and kicks off her sneakers.

“I. Am. Over it!” Exclaims the frustrated student, each word being yelled out with more shrill. She’s met with silence and the cool surface of her door as she sinks in. In just a week of wearing the splint, she has become so much more conscientious of both the amount of people she sees and how many of those people she normally talks to on a daily basis. She couldn’t seem to catch a brea-

“Over what?”

Jeongguk jumps in her spot clinging to the door at the unexpected voice that seemed to almost meld in with the quiet of the living room.

Taehyung is sat calmly on their shared sofa, laptop perched in her lap. The room is illuminated by a table side lamp, warm yellow light in a dim space as the sun sets outside. From where Jeongguk is standing, she can see the tangles in her roommate’s hair, her glasses reflecting the light from her laptop.

“Oh, you scared me!” Jeongguk responds, clenching her chest where she can feel her heart pounding.

Taehyung shrugs, looking back at her laptop screen. “I didn’t burst through the door yelling.” Jeongguk doesn’t acknowledge her words, coming into the room to turn on an actual light and heading straight for the bathroom down the hall.

“So, what are you over?” Taehyung calls out, barely to be heard over the sound of Jeongguk rummaging for makeup wipes and her facial wash.

“This stupid brace,” she groans, ripping at the velcro that keeps it closed around her wrist. She’s allowed to take it off when washing up, thank fuck. “Seriosuly, it’s not like I broke a fucking leg or something. Why are people so fascinated?”

“We’re an ableist nation, sweetheart. You either don’t exist or you’re a spectacle.”

Jeongguk grunts. Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s still over it. She starts taking off the little makeup she had worn for the day: her mascara, eyebrows, blush, lip gloss. She has to be even more gentle with her wrist, and that’s fucking annoying. She wouldn’t ask Taehyung to come in and help her, but it’s a tight feeling, rubbing at the product on her lashes.

She has to deal with it for another week before she can start doing her stretches. What’s worse is that she hasn’t been able to play her video games for as long as she normally would because her wrists starts to seize up. Some would probably see that as a good thing since she spends an ungodly amount of time playing them (she remembers when Namjoon outwardly expressed his inability to understand how she was even passing her classes).

And it’s the weekend. Aside from doing her homework, what else is she supposed to do? Go out and socialize? Hard pass.

Jeongguk feels betrayed, amongst everything else; betrayed by her body, betrayed by her own desires, and betrayed by that lesbian porn site she was one. Like, they had so many great videos, how was she supposed to just stop?

It just makes no sense. She had gone through the entirety of her life trying out strenuous activities. From soccer in her early childhood to biking around the neighborhood with the kids on her block, to going cliff diving with her older brother when their parents took them to Cancun when he graduated from university- she dances four days out of the week and her flicking her own goddamn bean is what threw her body over the edge?

Seriously? How fucking weak.

The sun has completely receded into the night when Jeongguk finally emerges from the bathroom. She’s quick to peel her clothes from the day off and tug on some loose sweatpants and a camisole. If she could live her life in these clothes alone, maybe she wouldn’t get so uptight.

At least, that’s Taehyung’s philosophy. Jeongguk remembers the first time she went bra shopping with Taehyung. The older never had much desire to wear such undergarments, but she liked making Yoongi weak. And from what Taehyung has told Jeongguk, who insists she never asked, Yoongi has no control when Taehyung is strapped very prettily. The lacier the better.

But, anyways.

“Jimin’s coming over soon. She was supposed to go to a get-together with her Criminal Justice class, but she rather be with us tonight. Isn’t she precious?”

“Or broke,” Jeongguk mutters when she comes out to the living room.

Taehyung makes a noise of agreement. “Either or, I’m up for a girl’s night in. But I gotta finish this assignment first. Professor Lee is such a stickler for these architecture papers. He gave me a B on the last one.”

Jeongguk would remind her friend that she has the entire weekend to perfect it, but knows it’s moot. Much unlike Jeongguk, Taehyung likes to make sure every assignment she turns in is perfect.

“It’s ‘cause I didn’t have Namjoon look over it. That’s why.” She mumbles this mainly to herself. “I can’t let that happen again.”

The younger chuckles. Between Namjoon helping Jeongguk in her classes and proofreading Taehyung’s papers, she wonders. “Is Namjoon getting paid for his services?”

“As far as I know, he’s not into the things I could pay him with.” Of course she went to sex. “Lemme know when Jimin gets here. I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate out here while you’re cooking.”

Eyebrows raised, Jeongguk shoots a questioning glance at Taehyung, who is busy collecting all of her supplies to take into her bedroom. “Oh, I’m cooking dinner?”

“Duh. You’re the best out of the three of us. I want something sorta sweet.” She kisses the air in Jeongguk’s direction as she fades down the hallway.

“What about my wrist?”

“Ableist nation, what did I tell ya?” Then there’s the sound of her bedroom door closing, leaving Jeongguk in the living area alone.

Taehyung’s lucky Jeongguk doesn’t mind cooking. Or else both of them would be up shit’s creek because Taehyung’s culinary skills don’t graduate past basic Shin Ramyeon and boiled eggs.

Thirty minutes in and the kitchen is hot.

Jeongguk has three of the burners on the stove going and the oven finishing up roasting some vegetables. Her music is blasting from the miniature portable stereo Taehyung had gotten her as a Christmas present last year.

This is why Jeongguk never minds cooking. She gets to be left alone, doing her own thing, no one bothering her. And she wasn’t the best cook, she knows this. It became even more clear after meeting the culinary genius currently doing his graduate program for Business Management, Seokjin. She fondly thinks about the first time their group had dinner together. Namjoon had called it “Friendsgiving”, apparently a tradition in the states amongst young adults. Seokjin had been the master chef in the kitchen, Jeongguk playing the role of the sous-chef. Her senior had praised her for being a top notch assistant, which inherently lightened the blow to Jeongguk’s pride at the realization that there was something she wasn’t the best at.

She’s excited to be in the kitchen with him again, regardless.

Despite the cacophony of sounds surrounding Jeongguk, she hears the beep of their front door unlocking. Jimin greets the open area loudly, announcing her presence. Jeongguk expects Jimin to make a beeline for Taehyung’s room at the discovery that said friend is not out in the open space.

What happens, instead, is that Jeongguk feels Jimin’s arms slither around her waist from behind. Jimin is a couple of inches shorter than the youngest, which is apparent in the way that she has to stand on her toes to leave a peck on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“Ggukie, you look so good in the kitchen.” Her words come out low, practically whispering into the younger’s ear, in her skin. “Look so in your element.”

Jeongguk tries to ignore how the butterflies flurry in her stomach, how her hand clenched tight around the wooden spoon stirring the noodles in the pot.

“Is it ‘cause I’m a woman? Jimin, it’s almost 2020.” She feigns disappointment, breaking into a laugh when she hears the dramatic gasp come from the girl behind her.

Jimin releases her hold when Jeongguk turns around. She goes over to the kitchen counter where the speaker is, turning the music down so she’ll be able to talk to Jimin at a normal tone. Her hair is pulled into a half-updo, done with enough precision just to get the hair out of her face. And given from her casual athleisure apparel of a light blue crew neck and leggings, she must have came from the dance studio. That and her bare, slightly flushed face give it away.

“I brought wine,” Jimin says, nodding over to where she left the bottle of pink on the other counter space.

“Oh, so you didn’t flake out on your CJ class ‘cause you’re broke. Taehyung’s right. You are precious.”

The older scoffs, looking offended at Jeongguk’s words. “You think I only crave your food when I don’t have money for my own? And here I thought I would be baking us some cookies.”

Jeongguk turns the knob on the burner for the noodles just as the oven goes off. After checking on the vegetables, she turns off the oven, keeping them in the warm confines of the oven.

“Blush wine pairs much better with cake, Minnie. You know this.”

She doesn’t get a response, but it’s fine. Jeongguk busies herself checking on her food, the meat she has in the pan on the back burner. She thinks if she gives everything another five minutes or so, it will all be ready.

“Hey, Gguk, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

She can feel the tension build in the silence before Jimin finally musters up the courage to ask her question. “Um...why didn’t you want me to know the real reason you hurt your hand?”

Jeongguk stops her stirring, turning to see the sullen look on the older’s face. She isn’t sure which emotion is most prevalent in the moment, so she stutters and gapes as Jimin looks to her patiently.

“It’s not...I mean...I was just embarrassed at- I mean, if Tae hadn’t been the one to take me to the hospital, I probably wouldn’t have told her the truth either.” It’s a sad excuse of an answer. She hadn’t realized that Jimin noticed anything.

“We’re close, aren’t we?” She pushes away from the counter, stepping to the side as if to give Jeongguk room to be closer to her. Like a test, almost. “Aren’t you comfortable with me?”

Jeongguk twists all the knobs, deciding the food can cook with whatever residual heat comes from the pots and pans. She proceeds to take however many steps it takes to the adjacent counter leaning back. Their arms brush against each other, extra measure for Jimin to know the answer before Jeongguk actually says it.

“Of course I’m comfortable with you, Minnie. You’re one of my best friends. Aside from Taehyung, I’m literally closer to no other human. I’m not even this affectionate with my parents. My mom’s not much of a hugger.”

Jimin seems to mull over her words. With all the stoves off, the only sound in the kitchen is the speaker, softly playing some trap mixes that Jeongguk discovered.

She decides to continue, moving her face closer to Jimin’s. “No other person I let sit in my lap. If any other person came up behind me and kissed my neck, they’d get an elbow in their face.”

“But that’s physical. People can be physically comfortable with each other without being emotionally comfortable. Like Tae and Yoongi.”

Well, Jeongguk would argue that Taehyung and Yoongi are so emotionally comfortable that Taehyung understands Yoongi’s desire to get fucked by another guy. She understands Jimin’s sentiment, though, so she leaves her thoughts in her head.

“So you’re worried that I’m not comfortable enough with you to tell you my most embarrassing secrets?”

Jimin pouts, poking out her bottom lip. She looks like a petulant child, but Jeongguk still finds it unbelievably cute. “I told you about that time when I laughed so hard I peed when I was 12 years old.”

Some of the tension has eased, and Jeongguk smirks out a laugh. She remembers when Jimin told her the story, how Jeongguk herself laughed so hard.

“Yeah, you told me about that.” The truth is that Jeongguk’s biggest secrets revolve around her friend. How she thinks about how cute Jimin is, how she wants to kiss her at those random times when the elder is glued to her; how she wants to snake her hands around Jimin’s body, grip at her waist, her ass. Her biggest secrets revolve around how she sometimes watches porn, fantasizing that it’s the two of them, Jimin bent over on the bed while Jeongguk tongues at her clit.

But who is Jeongguk to tell someone she cherishes such things? She values their friendship, loves that she has those people that she can be unabashedly affectionate to. She always feels so loved when she’s around Taehyung and Jimin. She would hate to lose that by expressing how fucking gay she is for her.

“Wanna know how I hurt my wrist?”

They’re already right up against each other, but Jimin still turns, giving her full attention to the younger. “I sort of put two and two together, but I want to hear you say it.” She holds her nose high, stubborn and in command. It makes Jeongguk smile at her fondly.

“I was...I was masturbating. I had been going at it for a few hours cause I couldn’t satisfy myself and then my wrist started cramping. The next day, Tae went with me to the clinic. I didn’t even want to tell the doctor, but she was super chill. Turns out non-stop hours of gaming then finger fucking is a recipe for disaster.”

Again, Jimin seems to take in every word, think it over. In the quiet air, there is only the heavy bass of another beat.

“Was that difficult for you? To admit, I mean.”

Surprisingly, the answer is no. Jeongguk doesn’t feel any different having told Jimin the truth. She doesn’t fear she’ll be judged. The most Jimin can do is laugh, just as Taehyung had, which hadn’t bothered Jeongguk in the slightest. It wouldn’t now. If anything, she would probably enjoy Jimin laughing at her plight, to feel the shorter throw herself into Jeongguk’s space, grip at her arm like a support because her knees sometimes went weak when she laughed too hard.

“No, actually. I’m still a bit irritated that I have to go through this, but I can’t lie,” when she glances to Jimin, the giggles begin to bubble up. “It’s kinda funny.” Slowly, a smile starts to spread on Jimin’s lips, and that only makes Jeongguk’s laughter more pronounced, more shameless. “I guess I kept that from you for nothing.”

“Seriously, I could have been coddling you way sooner.”

“Coddle?” Her laughter has since died a bit, genuine confusion taking over.

Jimin makes a cooing noise, something she seems to do often with the younger. She lifts a hand, patting softly at the side of Jeongguk’s face. “Poor baby had trouble getting off.”

“Excuse you,” Jeongguk scoffs. “I could get off; it’s just that none of them felt all that good.”

“Maybe you weren’t doing it right then,” Jimin suggests casually. Her hand slides down Jeongguk’s arm, squeezing at where her elbow rests on the counter top.

With a roll of her eyes, Jeongguk replies. “I know how to get myself off, Min. Don’t worry.”

Jimin still argues. “But maybe you need someone to help you feel good?” She ends the statement on a lilt, like she’s asking rather than saying.

It’s with Jimin so close that Jeongguk always becomes super aware of things. For instance, right now she’s very aware of Jimin’s fingers on her arm constantly moving, suddenly realizes how small the kitchen is, how they’re pressed against each other. Jimin’s leg moves upward, sliding against Jeongguk’s, one socked foot sliding under the opening of her sweat pants.

And Jeongguk is suddenly very conscious of the fact that Jimin is chewing at her bottom lip, and the younger can’t seem to look away.

She looks up just as Jimin does, having been watching her lips as well. She raises one eyebrow in question, one that Jeongguk is supposed to answer.

“Um…” is all Jeongguk can say.

The blonde continues petting at her arm while the other hand lifts up Jeongguk’s hand. She had put the splint back on after washing up in the bathroom. Jimin seems to only mind it for a second before she starts caressing Jeongguk’s fingers.

“You’re always so soft, Ggukie.” Jimin’s words come out hushed, a whisper, only for the younger to hear. “So warm,” she continues. Her hand is so light when it moves to Jeongguk’s neck. A hitched breath comes out automatically along with the goosebumps along the skin under Jimin’s featherlight fingertips.

“Always wanna touch you. Feel so good.” Her hand slides up to Jeongguk’s jaw, pulling her face closer. No later they’re practically sharing the same breath. When Jimin looks into her eyes again, Jeongguk thinks she could fall into a crumpled mess right there. This girl has such a strong effect on her. It’s almost too much when not being enough. “Do you like when I touch you?”

Jeongguk can’t even begin to think, still trying to wrap her brain around the way Jimin is touching her, pulling her in. Just how Jeongguk can’t remember when Jimin started openly being affectionate with her, the younger can barely remember when she realized she liked the blonde. It just sort of happened. Like, one day came, Jimin was attached to her side, and Jeongguk felt the urge to reciprocate, to pull Jimin in like how the older is doing in this moment. And Jeongguk has known she likes girls for some time, since her Sophomore year of high school, helping one of her friends practice for a play she was in. The lead, one that had a kiss near the finale of the play. Her friend hadn’t thought much of it, but Jeongguk thought about it for days, nights, weeks, months. She thought about it until a girl on her softball team kissed her in the locker room.

She’d been comfortable in her sexuality, but never outwardly expressive of it. She never came out to her parents nor her brother. But one day, Jeongguk brought her girlfriend home to meet her parents; announced her as her girlfriend. And four months after they broke up, Jeongguk met a boy at the convenient store her mom always told her to go to when they needed something quick. The guy worked there, was smitten with how Jeongguk shyly put her tampons on the counter along with the medicine shots. Not much later after that, Jeongguk would tell her parents whenever she was going on a date with her boyfriend.

Neither of those relationships lasted over six months, not that Jeongguk cared. She wasn’t regretful of the time she spent with either of them. They made her feel good in the moment, allowed her to learn what she liked and did not like.

And she really liked Jimin.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk finally answers, breathy and shaky with her exhale. She’s still uncertain of how real everything is, but in the spirit of what they just spoke about, Jeongguk finds herself admitting to more. “Really like it when you touch me.”

“Why don’t you ever touch me back?” There is the slightest pout again. Jimin is good at that. In the year Jeongguk has gotten to know Park Jimin, she knows that the older is a bit of a brat, used to getting her way to some extent. Must come with being an only child.

“Didn’t wanna scare you away.” Jeongguk never hid her sexuality, and her friends found out about her sexual attraction to girls about as anticlimactically as her parents had. The trio had gone to a party hosted by Jimin and Jeongguk’s dance class. It was at their senior’s, Hoseok, apartment. It was at that party that Jeongguk had ended up dancing with some girl from a ballet class, and not long after, Jeongguk had said girl pinned to the wall, the two of them slightly intoxicated but making out nonetheless.

And when Jeongguk had found Taehyung and Jimin later that night, they only screamed at Jeongguk for not telling them sooner.

And since Jimin knew Jeongguk was sexually attracted to girls, the latter didn’t want Jimin to become worried that Jeongguk was coming onto her. Sure, she liked the blonde but, again, she values their relationship.

Which is way the younger is freaking out because Jimin keeps moving her eyes between her lips and her eyes. That’s the only reason, of course.

“Do you want to touch me, Ggukie?” She wants an answer. Jeongguk can hear it in her tone. But she’s back to pulling at Jeongguk’s jaw. Their lips are just a breath away at this point.

Jeongguk thinks she nods, or maybe makes some type of noise in acknowledgement, but before she can think about it, Jimin has their lips pressed together.

It’s hesitant, at first. And the younger is frozen in her place when Jimin pulls away. She’s still unsure if this is happening. Maybe she fell asleep on her bed after she got home.

A dream would mean she could do whatever she wanted. But a dream would also mean her wrist wouldn’t still be fucked.

She’s not sure if it’s confidence or trust, but Jeongguk surges forward, hand grabbing blindly for Jimin’s waist to pull her close. And she kisses back desperately.

Jimin’s hand finally leaves her arm, moving to wrap around the back of Jeongguk’s neck. With her hand there and the other still cradling her jaw, Jeongguk would have a hard time pulling away if she wanted to.

She doesn’t.

The hand at her jaw starts to move lower, pausing at her neck as she pulls away from the kiss. Jeongguk chases after her lips, not wanting it to stop so soon, but Jimin’s eyes are glued to where her hand creeps down the younger’s chest.

“Always so soft,” Jimin whispers. “No matter where I touch you.” And suddenly, she’s pulling Jeongguk in for another kiss.

The younger can barely breathe, unable to catch her breath as Jimin’s hand goes further down, falling down the valley of her breast just to come back up and cup her in her small hand. It eggs Jeongguk on more, makes her desires push to the surface. She moans when her own hand goes to grab at the olders ass, squeezing as much as she can, pulling her impossibly closer. Thank fuck for leggings.

The fire in her belly flares when Jimin starts to kiss at her neck, biting at the skin at her collarbone. The older keeps going, following the path her hand took until she got to her chest. She pulls at the top of the black camisole, pulling the stretchy fabric until her chest is exposed.

The kitchen is still warm, but the fire prickles under Jeongguk’s skin, and she moans wistfully when Jimin starts licking at one of her nipples, circling her tongue until it’s a hard peak. The younger can only card her fingers through the blonde tresses. She works on moving Jimin in front of her, grabbing at her thigh until their legs are slotted in between each other’s.

When Jimin bites down harshly, Jeongguk’s hips thrust forward. “Minnie.”

“This okay?” she asks as she brings her lips back to Jeongguk’s open mouth. She takes the opportunity, slipping her tongue and sucking at Jeongguk’s swollen bottom lip.

“So okay, yeah,” Jeongguk gets in between kisses. It’s so hungry, their movements, while somehow being gentle...soft, as Jimin has been saying.

“Think I could get you off? Make you feel good?” Just as she says these words, her hand trails lower, quick to slip under the band of her sweatpants. She goes to cup the younger’s core over her panties, and Jeongguk feels too close already.

She could make the excuse of it being a while, that she had never been able to satiate herself since getting her wrist checked out. But the truth of the matter is that this is Jimin, and she has a feeling that anything Jimin does could make her feel good.

Jeongguk’s hips move as Jimin presses her fingers at the folds, still covered by her underwear. It feels so good, Jeongguk moans into their kisses, letting Jimin swallow up the sounds.

“Ggukie,” Jimin moans into her ear. “You’re already so wet. Fuck, wanna feel you.”

It all happens too fast, Jimin sneaking her hands under her panties, her mouth going back to suck at Jeongguk’s other breast. She’s always been sensitive in her nipples, a fact that her sexual partners have taken advantage of before. Her knees grow weak suddenly, she’s forced to drop Jimin’s leg so she can use her good hand to keep herself stable.

“Fuck, fuck, Jimin fuck!” Jimin’s using Jeongguk’s own fluids to help make her fingers wet while she massages at her clit. It feels like too much, but Jeongguk doesn’t want any of it to stop. When she thinks she has her bearings she pulls at Jimin’s face, dragging her lips up to kiss her. It grounds her a bit, to be able to focus on the older’s lips. Already, just by the way she moves her tongue in Jeongguk’s mouth, she’s probably amazing at eating out. And really, she shouldn't be thinking about that because Jimin’s rubbing at her folds with two fingers, threatening to push them in while her thumb rubs at her bundle of nerves.

The moans are endless, so close she can almost taste it. “I...Jimin, I’m gonna-”

When Jeongguk looks down, the sight of Jimin’s hand down her pants is the final straw. Her jaw goes slack as her eyes close, any scream that wants to come out gets stuck in her throat, and suddenly he’s cumming, her orgasm feeling like it’s being pulled out of her from depths she hadn’t known existed.

Her breaths are shaky and high when she comes down enough to feel Jimin’s fingers still rubbing at her pussy. She’s going slow, but Jeongguk can already feel the fire whirring again. She smashes her face into Jimin’s hair, softly moaning her name while she tries to get a handle on her breathing.

“Did I do good?” The innocense on the older’s face is almost torture, the smugness behind it captivating.

That was another thing about Jimin. Jeongguk knew the girl loved to be praised, to be told when she was doing well. It always came out during their dance classes, whenever they would go out and Jimin took the longest to get ready. She had to be jaw-dropping, heart-stopping, breath-taking at all times. And she needed people to tell her that.

Jeongguk has no qualms with praising her.

“Jimin you were so good. Fuck,” she stops herself, pressing her lips to the blond. She’s still rubbing at core, her fingers coming past her oversensitive clit. As much as Jeongguk wants to ask for more, she wants to do what she’s been longing to do for so long.

Touch her.

“Get on the counter,” Jeongguk commands in a rush, pushing at Jimin’s hand, trying to maneuver her quickly. She wishes she could undress, take her time with her, bite and suck at her thighs. But she needs to return the favour, wants to get her mouth on her, eat her up.

Jeongguk acts fast, ignoring the pain in her wrist and grabbing onto the backs of Jimin’s thighs so she can deposit her onto the counter top.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jeongguk groans out, biting at the soft skin of Jimin’s neck. She feels the shorter jerk forward, needing back the friction she had gotten used to.

“Do what, Ggukie?”

She can hear it in Jimin’s voice, hears that she knows what Jeongguk is talking about. But if Jimin wants her to spell it out, who is she to say no?

“Touch you, taste you.” She presses her lips to Jimin’s ear while she tugs at the waistband of Jimin’s leggings. This close, Jeongguk can smell the faintest bit of soap. It makes sense. Jimin hates the feel of being sweaty. She probably showered at the rec center where the dance studio is. “Wanted to keep you in bed and eat you for hours.” She gets a whimper in response, and fuck the noises the older makes are so tantalizing. “Love watching you in class. Think about bending you over the ballet bar.” A moan from her own throat interrupts her. The thoughts she’s had for months coming back to her as she says them. “God, Jimin. Just wanna make you scream.”

“So do it, then.” Jimin has lifted up enough to help Jeongguk get her pants down. Now Jeongguk is kissing down her body, haphazardly pushing up her shirt and finding a cursed sports doing its job and holding Jimin’s boobs in. The nerve.

“Can’t. Taehyung’s in her room.”

For someone that had been so arrogant, so dirty and predatorial not even 2 minutes before, her eyes bug out, the shock and fear in her face very amusing to the younger who smirks as she gets on her knees.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Gguk?”

Jeongguk shrugs, yanking the offending fabrics down and past one of her ankles. Now that she’s freed from the confines of her leggings, Jeongguk’s hands roam, gripping at her thighs. Shit, is she salivating? Right, she asked a question.

“Was too preoccupied. Sorta forgot.” It seems like a good enough answer for her. She pulls Jimin closer to the edge of the counter, running her lips up the insides of Jimin’s thigh. She feels like silk, but the way her thigh jerks at the movement makes the muscles underneath more prominent. It just turns Jeongguk on more, to know that someone can be so soft but this strong. She wants to go at her in every way possible, listen to her squeal and beg for more while her body tells her it’s time to stop.

The prize is right there, wet, pink and groomed. To tease Jimin more would be torture on Jeongguk as well at this point. But she wants this to be good, wants to feel Jimin cum on her tongue, feel her thighs tremble around her head.

There’s a hand in her hair, tugging to move Jeongguk’s head in the right direction. “Jeongguk,” she moans. The younger thinks it’s a warning for her to get to the good part, but suddenly she hears, “You taste so good.” And Jeongguk finally pulls back to look up.

Jimin has her fingers in her mouth, the hand she used to get Jeongguk off. If Jeongguk wasn’t already on her knees…

She sticks her tongue out, laving a broad lick against Jimin’s folds. She was already wet, and Jeongguk is only making it messier. She spends a while just licking, always making sure to flick her tongue up once she gets to her clit. Jimin has one foot propped on the counter, giving Jeongguk more room to work with. She falls into the sounds around her, the melody of Jimin's airy moans and grunts. Sometimes the younger will switch to just sucking on the bundle, and she revels at how Jimin seems to shy away from the sensation, just to drag Jeongguk’s face along with her.

Jeongguk takes her grip on Jimin’s other thigh, tugging at it so she can be in the right angle as she starts fucking her tongue inside, her chin getting slick from her folds.

“Ggukie,” the blonde whines, struggling to keep herself upright. Her breathing is uneven, thighs trembling. When she looks down, the younger is looking up at her, and it’s so fucking hot she can’t handle it.

When her hips start to move too wildly, searching for any and all pleasure, Jeongguk throws her arm around her waist, keeping her in place as she doubles down with her tongue. Hearing the splitting shriek does as much to her as feeling Jimin’s walls clamp around tongue. She can’t help but groan, wanting to snake a hand down to rub at herself.

That’s what she does, using her left hand to rub messily at her already wet core, her panties already ruined and drenched. She starts to hear Jimin beg, the fingers in her hair pulling harshly.

“Please, Gguk- please please please I’m so close,” she ends on a sob, her head falling back.

Jeongguk fucks her with her tongue, moving her head as her nose rubs against Jimin’s abused clit. She can feel the elder clenching, drawing tight around her.

Jimin releases with a steady curse, wispy and dazed as muscles contract. Seeing her blissed out expression, neck and cheeks red, is what helps bring Jeongguk over again. She presses her forehead to the wet inside of Jimin’s thigh, riding out the wave. The air seems to cool around her, listening to Jimin catch her breath.

“You taste good, too.” Jeongguk chuckles, finally standing up. With Jimin sitting there, they’re at eye level with each other, which makes it easier to lean in and kiss her. She swallows down the moan Jimin emits when she tastes herself on Jeongguk’s tongue. “Feel fucking phenomonal, too.”

Jimin giggles lightly as Jeongguk drags her nails into her hips, trailing down to her thighs, keeping them close together.

They share the silence save for the low music. It seems so natural and comforting to be entwined like this, feeling Jimin’s chest move against her own. She can’t stop caressing her skin, can’t stop moving her hands.

“Did you know?” Jeongguk pulls back and meets Jimin’s eyes. “Did you know that I liked you?” Jeongguk isn’t sure how she would feel if she found out Jimin knew about her feelings all this time. Whether that would make her fragile pride crumble or not.

Jimin rests her arms on Jeongguk’s shoulders. “I knew I was special to some extent. I noticed how you acted around others. Even with Jin and Yoongi, you don’t always accept any affection they give to you. Not that Yoongi is big on touching in the first place but- No. I didn’t really know you saw me as anything other than your best friend.”

Jeongguk feels like she has a million questions: what does this mean, then? Does Jimin want to date her? Or does she just want to fuck? Was she even into girls?

“So...you’re not straight?” Given from the confused expression Jimin gives, Jeongguk didn’t really word that correctly. “I just mean...do you know you’re not straight or are you trying to figure it out?”

“Ah, okay.” She smiles gently. “Yeah, so, when Tae and I were, like, seventeen, I told her that I thought I might be into girls. And it may be hard for you to believe, but I didn’t used to be such a touchy person. I always appreciated physical touch, but I used to never openly display it like I do now.

“But when I became friends with Tae, I became so comfortable with her that I would cling to her. It didn’t dawn on me until one of our other friends asked if we were dating that it even looked like we were more than friends. And I seriously wondered if I was sexually attracted to her or if I just felt comfortable enough. So when I told her I thought I might be into girls, she allowed me to experiment with her.”

Jeongguk can picture it, the friend duo at that age, awkward and trying to figure things out. It’s endearing and enthralling. “And, what was the result?” She asks, as if she isn’t already aware of Taehyung being completely hetero.

“She wasn’t into it, but I was. I wasn’t hurt when she told me she felt nothing, and she was so comforting and kind when I broke down crying because I was the one that was different. From the moment I met Taehyung, she always wanted to make me feel like any other person, and that carried over into discovering I was sexually attracted to girls.” She pauses, eyes a little glassy as she seems to remember the scenario. She huffs out a laugh. “It’s actually super funny because I started bawling in her tiny full-sized bed. Like, dude, my tits were out and so were hers. I just cried into her chest and she let me.

“And what was even more magical was that the next day, she still came to my house to pick me up so we could walk to school. She held her arm out so I could grab onto it like I normally did. She still let me pet her hands and she still wrapped herself around me. Guys should really take notes because that’s what being comfortable with your sexuality looks like.”

Jeongguk admires Jimin, entranced in seeing the emotions change on her face. She always enjoys hearing Jimin talk, even if she doesn’t feel like responding, even if it’s about nonsense.

So now she knew that Park Jimin was a lesbian- or, at least sexually attracted to girls. So that brings up another query. “So, why did you never tell me after you found out I also like girls?”

Jeongguk can catch it, the hint of regret. It fades quickly. “At that point I had already started cuddling up to you. Guess it’s kinda like how you worried you would scare me off if I knew you were gay and you were so affectionate with me. I worried that if I had told you then, you would assume I was only acting that way towards you because I liked you or was only interested in sleeping with you.”

“And you didn’t like me?”

“Gimme a second, my butt is sticking to the counter.” Jeongguk giggles as she helps Jimin down onto her feet. Jimin pulls her leggings back on, adjusting her shirt so she looks half-way decent. It’s still evident in the redness of her swollen lips and her mussed hair, though.

“I hadn’t been sure of my feelings, and I liked having you as my friend. Just in case you didn’t like me back, I wanted to make sure I could keep our friendship regardless.”

It makes sense to Jeongguk. That’s where her earlier trust came from. It was the feeling and understanding that their friendship was strong enough by that point that they could bounce back, work through the awkward stages if it wasn’t what the other person wanted.

But Jeongguk wanted this, still wants this. And it seems that Jimin does, as well.

“I really like you, Jimin,” Jeongguk announces. “I have for some time now. I don’t even know when it started, but I just know that I have.” It felt like something that needed to be said, just in case there were any lingering doubts or misunderstandings.

“I like you, too, Ggukie. I’ve known for some time now, too.” She rises on her toes, intending to only leave a peck against the younger’s lips. But Jeongguk brings her closer, making the kiss slow and full. She thinks she could get used to kissing Jimin, but she still can’t believe this is real.

When they part, it’s calm and serene. Jeongguk is glad she can be comfortable around Jimin, likes the connection they seem to have.

“Glad you guys are finally done.”

Both Jimin and Jeongguk jump, the older letting out a surprised shriek. When they follow the voice, Taehyung is standing at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the doorway. Unlike how Jeongguk had found her earlier when she got home, Taehyung’s hair is brushed out, her glasses gone and tattered sweats traded in for nicer sweatpants and a sweater.

Her face is expressionless as it was before as she blinks. There’s some satisfaction in having gotten a reaction out of the girls in the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Tae?” Jimin exclaims. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, I haven’t been standing here long, but good lord, you guys don’t know how to be quiet even if it could save your goddamn lives.” She smiles, studying the couple. “Glad you both finally came around to each other, though. Neither of you may have noticed your crush on the other but the rest of us did.”

“And all of you just watched?”Jeongguk wouldn’t put it past them, she guesses.

Taehyung hums. “What are we, twelve? You’re both grown ass women. You can figure it out for yourselves. This isn’t some cheesy rom-com. But I guess it is some low level lesbian porn.”

Jimin seems to take offense. “Tch, low level my ass.”

“Oh, speaking of your ass, I think it’s very obvious why I will not be joining you guys for dinner. And please be so kind as to clean up after yourselves.”

With that Taehyung leaves the kitchen, heading for the door. “Where are you going, then?”

“I had texted Yoongi awhile ago. I need to relieve some stress in order to focus on this paper. Just waiting for you guys to finish so I wouldn’t interrupt you.”

How sweet. “Thanks, Tae,” Jeongguk replies, sarcasm thick in her tone.

“As you should be thankful you have a friend like me. Both of you. Later!” They hear the door close behind her, leaving Jimin and Jeongguk to stand in the middle of the kitchen.

“I might need to heat the food up again, but I’m super fucking hungry.”

Jimin groans, moving to stand next to Jeongguk by the stove while she checks on the various foods. She decides to turn the burner on for the meet. “Same, I’m so hungry. Still wanna bake a cake.”

“Perfect, then I could lick the icing off of you.”

“Oh,” Jimin sings low. “Kinky already. Woman after my heart. Guess we found one good thing to come out of you getting that brace put on.”

“Huh, yeah, guess so. Guess it also makes sense that I needed to get it because I was trying to fuck myself. So I should be paid back.”

Jimin has already started grabbing bowls and plates. It feels so easy, like nothing has changed.

She’s not sure how long they stay silent until Jimin’s voice finally filters though.

“So, like, were you just fucking yourself too hard or-”

“Minnie, what the fuck?”

“No, but like, what were you watching? Was it the good shit? Do you know what the good shit is?” She gasps as a thought comes to mind. “Were you, perhaps, thinking of me?”

Jeongguk only rolls her eyes. “We can discuss it later.”

That seems to work for Jimin, who only grins widely. “Aren’t glad you have someone to help you get off now?”

Jeongguk looks down at the brace, relenting and letting out a soft laugh.

“Super grateful.”

#bts #ksmutclub #genderbent bts #fem!bts #fem!jungkook #fem!jimin #fem!taehyung #bts smut #bts fluff #jikook

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thepartyresponsible · 7 years ago

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this fill is for @roguetelepath, who had the beautiful idea of Jason Todd/Harry Potter with “a post-war, done with everything Harry in Gotham.”

my general disregard for canon compliance is stepped up a bit here, because i’ve only read the first seven books and seen their movies. i know nothing about fantastic beasts.

...well, i know that i am a fantastic beast, but that’s probably not what the movie is about.

Talia would call it a Lazarus gift, the way Jason can sense magic these days. She’d call it that - a gift - because she’s never experienced it herself. When the dark-haired man passes behind him, Jason feels the magic on him, sharp and unpleasant, like fingernails and ice chips scraping across the back of his neck. It doesn’t feel much like a gift, but he’ll grant that it’s interesting.

The place is a dive bar, sure, but people usually don’t layer on high-level repulsion charms before they go out for a drink. Especially when they’re nowhere near the magic-friendly districts of the city.

Jason counts thirty seconds and then he stands up, takes his beer, and follows the man across the bar. The magic pushes against him, but charms that rely on redirection tend to lose most of their punch when you confront them head on. He feels it, though, the whole way over, chilled air settling across every inch of exposed skin.

“Hey,” he says, as he leans into the space next to him at the bar. Jason smiles, trying for friendly, self-aware enough to know that he’s probably missing the mark.

“Hello,” the man says, glancing at him. He has a British accent and some kind of spell on his face, concentrated in the center of his forehead. Jason can’t see behind it, but cosmetic magic always looks wrong in his eyes, vaguely blue-tinted and reflective.

Jason never did finish high school, but the dealers on his street taught him all about basic arithmetic.

An English accent, a concealed mark on his forehead, and magic, a lot of it, equals Harry fucking Potter, hiding out in a shitty Gotham bar.

Jason thinks about asking him if his press knows he’s here, but Potter’s watching him now, mouth bullied into a flat, miserable frown, pretty green eyes gone all dark and defensive. Jason spends most of his nights patrolling the city with a mask on his face; he knows what it’s like to try to cut your way out of an identity you don’t want anymore.

It’s a little like clawing your way out of a coffin.

“Buy you a drink?” Jason asks, instead.

Potter blinks at him. His eyes dart toward the bartender, who’s hanging back, reading Jason. “There some reason you would like to?” he asks, after a moment.

“Sure,” Jason says, with a shrug. There are a dozen reasons he would like to. He read the news, when it hit, a couple years back. He knows all about the clusterfuck that happened to the British Ministry. He knows about the horcruxes, and the bullshit Dark Lord. He knows about the dead kids. “I’ve got a thing,” he says, “for brunettes.”

“Really,” Potter repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. Like he’s exhausted by the very idea of pretending, again, to believe whatever lie someone’s selling him.

“Sure,” Jason says. It even has the benefit of being true. He looks over at the bartender, who finally starts making his approach, apparently reassured that he doesn’t need to stay out of the shrapnel zone anymore.

“Look,” Jason says, when Potter just keeps staring down at the empty bar napkin in front of him. “You’re here to drink. You really think it’s a good idea to do that alone?”

Potter’s eyes snap up to his, and there’s a moment where Jason can feel himself being assessed. He doesn’t mind. He’s been calculating how dangerous Potter is since he walked into the bar.

“Fine,” Potter says. “But I’m terrible company.”

“Oh, good,” Jason says, settling onto the nearest bar stool. “Me too.”

Later, after they’ve shared a few beers and some meandering conversation, after Harry quietly eased the repulsion charm until it disappeared entirely, they go outside to smoke behind the bar. Harry – who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom – goes through the whole process of fishing out his lighter and hunching inward, shielding his cigarette from the wind.

Jason snaps his fingers, summons a bright blue magical flame that dances briefly above his thumb, and lights his cigarette neatly, efficiently, waving the flame out of existence while Harry’s still holding his stupid lighter in the air.

“Thought so,” Harry says, after a beat of silence. “How’d you know about me?”

Jason rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers again, holds the flame under Harry’s cigarette until it finally lights. He closes his hand around the fire, and it disappears. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re really not that subtle.”

Harry sizes him up again. He’s been doing that all night. Jason wants to tell him that, someday, he’ll shake himself free from the habit of continuously updating the threat level of everyone around him, but Jason’s an asshole, not a liar. Shit like that never, ever goes away.

“This whole city,” Harry says, settling back against the wall, “is cursed. How do you stand it?”

Jason shrugs. “Grew up here,” he says. “Get sick if I leave for too long.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, thinks that over. “Do you really?”

Jason nods, although it’s not a sickness the way that word maybe implies. It’s more like an addiction. Leaving the city for too long leads to anxious, skittery, bone-deep aches that feel like withdrawals. There’s a reason people don’t leave Gotham, no matter how shitty the place is, no matter what they lose to it.

“Over there,” Jason says, “you British wizards, you’d probably call it Dark magic.”

“Call it Dark magic?” Harry shoots him a faintly incredulous look, lighting up his green eyes with skepticism. “It is Dark. This whole city’s Dark.”

“It’s all just magic,” Jason says. The difference is that this kind’s got a higher price and a sharper bite. And maybe Jason would care more about the former if he weren’t so dedicated to the latter.

Sometimes, he can feel the echoes of the spellwork he’s done settling into his joints, aging him early, rotting him from the inside out. But there are hundreds of people alive today that wouldn’t be, if he hadn’t done what he’d done. So what’s it matter, in the end? He’s living on borrowed time anyway.

Harry frowns at him. Jason figures that’s fair. Harry’s probably still a little sensitive to that whole bullshit light-and-dark divide. Bruce can get that way, too, if you let him corner you into a philosophical debate about it. But the reality is Bruce uses whatever magic he can, and dark and light are just words frightened people use to keep each other in line.

“It feels bad,” Harry says, finally, and gestures outward, toward the sprawling nightmare of the city.

And, yeah, Jason imagines it does. The city always seems to weigh heavy on new arrivals. “If it feels so bad,” Jason says, “why the hell are you here?”

He already knows. Of course he knows. He knows why every single one of them surfaces here, all the runaways, the fugitives, the deserters. He knows what Gotham can offer people, if they’re desperate enough to bargain.

“Can’t be traced here,” Harry says, finally, after he busies himself for a while with the nearly finished cigarette in his hand. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, with a smile, as he flicks his cigarette into a nearly puddle. “Sure. The kind of vacation where you’re actively hiding from everyone who knows you. That kind of vacation.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “I’m not hiding,” he says. He sounds like he means it. Maybe he hasn’t figured that part out for himself yet.

Jason grins at him, leans closer, settles his hand on the brick wall beside Harry’s head. “So, Neville Longbottom,” he says, enjoying the quickfire focus that ignites in Harry’s eyes at the mocking tone Jason uses when he calls him by a name they both know doesn’t belong to him. “You got a place to stay yet?”

Harry’s still for a second, and then he drops his cigarette to the ground, crushes it beneath his boot. He runs his fingers through his hair, and, in the wavering light of the nearby neon sign, Jason catches the glint of a line of scars down Harry’s hand: I must not tell lies.

England, he thinks, is just as hard on its boy heroes as Gotham. Maybe the whole world over, Robins and Harry Potters get eaten alive.

“I’m entertaining options,” Harry tells him. For a second, his eyes drop down Jason’s face, to his mouth, his throat, down all the way to his hips and then slowly back up. And then he looks away, squints up the alleyway. “But,” he says, “I’m a nightmare to share a room with.”

“Oh, really?” Jason thinks it’s sweet that Harry said share a room instead of share a bed. Especially since he just got finished eye-fucking him in the back alley behind one of Gotham’s least impressive bars.

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes dropping, dark with guilt and maybe shame. “I’ve got-- dreams. Bad ones. Broke somebody’s nose once.”

For fuck’s sake. This is what happens, Jason thinks. This is what happens when you’re fourteen and someone you trust tells you that you can save the world.

Jason’s not sure of the details of what happened to Harry. They were, as usual, on the brink of the end of the world in Gotham, too. But he knows the look on Harry’s face, knows the weight of that directionless rage, the drag of all that that hollowed-out exhaustion. He knows what it’s like to play hero too young.

“This is Gotham,” Jason reminds him. “You don’t have to apologize for shit like that here. If we couldn’t handle a few nightmares, we’d all be sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together. He sizes him up again, and Jason waits, lets that threat analysis buffer until Harry nods, once, slow and thoughtful. Cautious. “Well,” Harry says, “not sure I’ll be staying the night.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Break my heart, English.”

Harry grins, then, bright and uncomplicated, sharing the joke. Jason sees, for a second, who he could have been, if he hadn’t been sent out to fight, if he hadn’t been asked to save the world before he had a chance to find his place in it.

It’s no use, second-guessing the sacrifice once it’s already been made. But Jason wishes like hell that all these old men would learn to fight and lose their own Goddamn battles.

Jason wonders if that’s the reason the two of them do what they do. He wonders if Harry’s an Auror and Jason’s a vigilante so they can put themselves in front of all those desperate, stupid kids, build a wall with their bodies that keeps all the starry-eyed, Bambi-faced preteens from looking at the you must be this tall to avert the apocalypse sign and figuring fuck it, close enough.

Or maybe this is what they do because it’s all they know how to do. Maybe, once you put a price on your life, hand it over in trade, you can’t ever get back to a place where you have any value at all.

“C’mon,” Jason says. He tips his head up the alleyway. “Let me show you the parts of Gotham that are slightly less shitty.”

Harry smiles, and it doesn’t have the wattage of that grin, but the grittiness of it – the worn-down edges, the glint of danger in his eyes – has a hook all its own. Jason always did have a soft spot for lost causes.

“You know,” Harry says, as they start up the alleyway. “My name isn’t actually Neville Longbottom.”

“Well, holy shit, English,” Jason says, feigning shock, clutching his non-existent pearls. “Does this mean you’re Hermione Granger?”

Harry laughs, sharp and surprised, and there are shadows in his eyes, scars on his skin, but there’s still life in him, still something bright and sweet and worth preserving.

As they walk up the alley, Jason feels the magic fade, like the softest brush of breath against his throat. When he looks over, Harry’s scar is clear on his face. It feels like a declaration, like some kind of trust.

“Oh, hey, Harry Potter,” Jason says, with a small, sideways smile, “welcome to Gotham.”

#writing #fic #fill

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imagining-supernatural · 8 years ago

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Avenging Angel: Part 36

Summary: You’ve spent the last five years on a dangerous mission to solve the crime that wrongly imprisoned your father. When the Winchesters find you half-frozen on the side of a mountain, they make it their own mission to save your life and make sure you stay alive. But after five years of uncovering horribly dark secrets, you’ve learned not to trust anyone. Especially people who seem like they have good intentions.

Word Count: 2457

Warnings: None

Avenging Angel Series Masterlist

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” You hissed at Angelica. Your friend just grinned, grabbed your hand, and pulled you along.

“It’ll be fun!”

“You’ve seen me around people. I can’t even hold a conversation, much less do improv!”

Her smile just got bigger. “Then it’ll be fun for me!”

It was only your first month at college and the one friend you’d made in your classes was already dragging you along to an entire night of public humiliation.

Or, as most people knew it, open improv night.

And honestly, what kind of improv club held their meetings in an old run-down theatre that was only accessible through a dark alley off of Center Street? Wasn’t that a pretty big clue that this was not a good idea?

“If I get mugged, it’s all your fault,” you mumbled when she put all her weight behind pulling open the heavy steel door. Sure, you could have helped her, but why would you?

“You’ll thank me later. Improv is a great skill to have. Even being stuck behind a computer, like you’ll be for the rest of your life.”

Fun? Doubtful. Highly doubtful, but still, you followed her.

*****

It took you twenty minutes to get to the front doors of the prison and get buzzed in. You and Braxton pretended that you didn’t want to talk to the reporters. You pretended to be surprised and angry that someone had tipped them off to your plans for the day. You pretended that you wanted to keep your relationship as private as you could, though that wasn’t entirely a lie. As you pretended all those things, though, you didn’t push through the crowd as aggressively as you would have had you not been pretending.

You had to kill time, after all.

By the time you were buzzed in, your dad should be being smuggled into a hidey-hatch in a van, and soon he would be on his way out of there.

“I never thought I’d be meeting my fiancée’s dad in a prison,” Braxton said conversationally, keeping up the appearance.

“I never thought I’d have to introduce the man I love to my dad in a prison either.”

Alarms went off just then, and all of the workers in the prison jumped into action. You acted surprised and scared when you saw all of the extra security measures automatically fall into place and the many locks being engaged.

“What’s going on?” Braxton demanded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to follow me,” a burly security guard said, not giving you much choice as his buddy came up behind you.

“I just want to see my dad!” Make a scene. Drag this out as long as possible. Give the extraction team as long as they needed to get out. “What the hell is happening?”

“Just a lockdown. It’s nothing to worry about. Now if you’ll—”

“Just a lockdown?” You voice went up an octave and fear crept into it. “I’ve been here so many times and there’s never been a lockdown! Are we in danger? Why is there a lockdown? I know this isn’t normal! Is my dad okay? Please tell me he didn’t get beat up again.”

The guard seemed like he was ready to knock you out just so you would shut up. “Ma’am, I know this might be frightening, but we have to move you to a secure location so we can do our rounds and check on all of the inmates.”

Sliding out from under Braxton’s arm, you grabbed the security guard’s and looked up into his face with pleading eyes. “Will you please tell me how my dad is? Tell me that he’s safe?”

“As soon as we get you in a secure location and I do my rounds, I’ll send someone to let you know. Which inmate is your father?”

“Kemuny Y/L/N,” you answered as you finally let him lead you through the hallways and into a private meeting room. You’d think that checking visitors for any weapons would be a priority during a lockdown, but when he left you and Braxton alone, you still had Dean’s knife in your pocket.

“And now we wait,” Braxton whispered, pulling you into his arms as if he was comforting you and calming you. You peeked up at the camera in the corner of the room and wondered if Sam was watching you. Hopefully he was. The idea calmed you.

After a few minutes where you paced back and forth and ranted to Braxton about how worried you were for your father, and Braxton playing the good fiancé and pretending to calm you down, the two of you ended up sitting on the chairs, hands joined between you.

Then the door opened and two guards escorted a man in a suit in.

From your research over the past few years, you knew that this was Isaac Hunt, some higher up in the state prison system. He was in charge. You shot up from your seat as if anxious for any information on your father, and completely oblivious to what a visit from Mr. Hunt meant.

They found out that your father escaped.

He’d come to question you.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N and Mr. Braxton Covington, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Is he okay? Is my daddy okay? Please tell me he’s not being transferred to the hospital again. I hate seeing him hurt.”

“Please, have a seat.” Mr. Hunt waved towards your abandoned chairs and you gingerly sat down. “I think you know exactly what is going on here.”

You crafted a wide-eyed, confused face and turned to Braxton, who also seemed lost. “What are you talking about? I just came to introduce my fiancé to my father. If I knew there would be a lockdown, we would have planned this for another day.”

“What is going on?” Braxton demanded in an authoritative, spoiled rich boy voice. “We have a tight schedule and a flight to catch later today. If we aren’t going to be able to meet with Kemuny because of this lockdown, then we’ll just come back another time.”

“Is he okay?” Your concern over your father’s safety would be your safety blanket to hide behind.

Mr. Hunt inclined his head thoughtfully. “You tell me. He isn’t in his cell.”

“What?!” Shooting up out of your chair, you rushed towards the three men. “You’ve gotta find him! He’s probably in some dark corner, bleeding out because another one of your crazy inmates beat him up again! Let me look for him, please!”

“Sit down!” One of the security guards bellowed, and you cowered slightly, but if this had been real, you wouldn’t back down when you believed your father was in danger.

“This is the entire system’s fault! What kind of a justice system lets an innocent man go to jail? My father would never hurt a damn fly, and you put him in a prison full of murderers and psychopaths and killers and expect him to be able to defend himself? If he’s injured, it’s all your fault!”

“I said, SIT DOWN!” This time his voice was closer to a roar, and Braxton grabbed your arm to pull you back to him. You didn’t sit down, but you stopped your emotional yelling.

It was three hours later when you were finally released. Three hours of questioning. Three hours of being accused of helping your father escape. Three hours of crying because your overly-sensitive womanly emotions couldn’t handle the accusations and stress of not knowing where your father was. Three hours of the guards not knowing how to handle an emotional woman. Three hours of Braxton yelling about how he needed to call his lawyers.

Three hours of craziness, basically.

But finally they decided that you had nothing to do with his escape, so they let you go. Once you were in the car with darkly tinted windows, you collapsed back into the soft cushions with a long, deep sigh. Acting was hard.

“They got him out without a hitch. They’re waiting at the meet-up point,” Braxton read from the phone he’d left in the car.

“Oh, thank God.”

*****

“Daddy!” As soon as you saw him standing in the hotel room Braxton had reserved for the day, you flew across the room and hugged him as closely as you possibly could. Five years without a real hug was too damn long. Sure, you had a hell of a lot of things to discuss. Sure, you were still mad at him for countless reasons. But he was your dad and you still loved him.

For the longest time, no one in the room said anything. Then Braxton cleared his throat and you eased your face out of Kemuny’s neck to look over at him. “We need to get going.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you dad said hotly. “Y/N and I are leaving and you’ll let us.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not an option.” Hearing Braxton call your dad sir was so weird that you almost didn’t process the rest of his words.

Shit. You didn’t have a plan to get your dad away from Braxton. You’d been so focused on playing the emotionally-strung-out daughter at the prison that you hadn’t remembered to make this plan.

“Like hell it isn’t! I vowed to never help another Covington as long as I lived and I intend to keep that vow.”

“Daddy,” you mumbled. Braxton wouldn’t hurt him. You knew that much. If Kemuny went with Braxton now, then you and the Winchesters could think up a plan to get him away soon. It would be easier than getting him out of prison.

“I’m not leaving you, Honey Bear.”

“You can come with us, Y/N,” Braxton said. That was what he’d wanted all along. He needed Kemuny and he still thought that he needed you to get to your mom. But you couldn’t give him both Y/L/Ns. You needed to go back to the Winchesters and figure out what the hell was going on.

You shrugged away from your father and took a few steps towards Braxton, completely torn. Give Braxton what he wanted, or leave without your father.

“Tell me why, Brax. Why should I trust you? Why are you any different from your father? You showed me your experiments, introduced me to my sister, and she gave me polished explanations, but I know that’s not the whole truth.”

He reached over and rested a hand on the side of your neck, looking down at you with familiarly tender eyes. “That’s the truth. I swear it, Y/N. I don’t have ulterior motives. I just want to help every species so people stop seeing them like monsters. And you and your dad can help.”

A crackle in the air broke your thoughts and unexpectedly there was one more man in the room.

Crowley.

He quickly took stock of the situation. “Well, I know you don’t trust me, but you can yell at me later, darling.”

And just as quickly as he came, he was gone, taking your father with him.

“Crowley!” You yelled, starting towards the empty spot where your dad had just been. For the first time in five years, your dad wasn’t in handcuffs when you were in the same room and now Crowley stole him away. As soon as you saw that slimy son of a bitch again, you were going to—

Braxton grabbed your arm and yanked you back towards him.

“Ow, Brax you’re hu—”

The fire in his eyes made you shut up. “I helped you break your father out of jail and this is the thanks I get?”

“Let me go! You’re hurting me.”

But he didn’t let up. If anything, his grip got harder. Maybe there would be a hand-shaped bruise there in the morning. Maybe you wouldn’t live that long and it would all be Crowley’s fault.

“You get your demon friend to bring Kemuny back here right now, Y/N! You have no idea what we’re up against. We need your father if we’re going to win!”

“Win what?”

But Braxton just clenched his jaw and impossibly tightened his grip even more. His eyes burned with intense desperation. Whatever reason he needed your dad for, it was important. The thought of losing such an asset made him… frightened? Was that the right word for his expression?

Another crackle in the air and Crowley was back. “Come on, then Y/N. It’s your turn.”

He came back. Did that mean that he really did take your father to the Winchesters? Trust the demon, or trust Braxton who looked desperate and ready to kill?

The Winchesters trusted Crowley to some degree.

You’d have a better chance of ending up with your dad if you went with Crowley, the demon who took your dad.

But Braxton wasn’t letting go of your arm.

“Let me go, Brax,” you said in a low voice, formulating a plan for when he didn’t.

“Bring Kemuny back and I’ll let her go,” Braxton said to Crowley, tugging you closer to him.

Well, it seemed like desperation was in the air today. In one swift movement, you retrieved the knife from your pocket, flicked it open, and drove it straight into the muscles of Braxton’s upper arm. He let go of you with a howl of pain, and in the few seconds that it took his body guards to react, you dashed across the room and threw yourself at Crowley. One second later and you were in a different hotel room.

“Are you okay?” Sam was instantly by your side, checking you over for any wounds. “Whose blood is that?”

“Braxton’s. We’ve gotta get out of here. He’s probably already sent people here.” A glance at your father in his prison jumpsuit reminded you that he was an escaped felon. “Dean, give dad some of your clothes to change into, Sam and I will pack the bags. We have to leave now.”

“What about me?” Crowley asked, way too calmly.

You clenched your eyes closed for a moment, steeling yourself for what you needed to say. “Thank you, Crowley. We’ve got it from here. But… thank you.”

He grinned. “We’ll be friends yet, Y/N.”

Then he was gone, and you, the Winchesters, and your father rushed to get out of the hotel. The three of them hurried out to the car, but you took an extra moment to look around the room and make sure you didn’t leave anything important. When you closed the door behind you, there was an open ring box sitting in the middle of the floor with the giant diamond ring nestled inside.

PART 37 OF AVENGING ANGEL

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writingfromkitchenator · 8 years ago

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Guardian

A Castiel Fanfic

"Hey Cas, we could really use a hand on this one."

I looked up from the book on demons on front of me, staring at the older Winchester with a frown. "I thought you guys said you handled demons all the time?"

Sam and Dean share a look.

"We do," Sam explains. "But this case is a little different. We just need some more help."

My frown deepened. "It was hard enough trusting you guys, let alone another."

Dean hangs up the phone. "Trust me, Cas is well and truly on our side."

There was an odd noise in the room and I suddenly found myself looking between three men.

Castiel was frowning. "I was in the middle of something important Dean."

"Hey, you told us to call if there was trouble, especially of the demon kind and that's exactly what we've got. Now, this is-" Dean went to introduce me, only to see my expression as I stared at Castiel. "Uh..."

Castiel's eyes met mine with some confusion.

It almost felt like the world shifted, darkness no longer pressing so heavily around me.

"You can see me?" Castiel suddenly asked.

Mutely, I nodded.

"See you? What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

"I told you I was sensitive to this crap." I whispered, not really trusting my voice. "You're an angel."

Castiel nods at my statement. "I am Castiel. It is very rare to meet a human that can see us properly."

My gaze drifted over to the shine of his wings, the sleek feathers folded neatly against him. I was about to say it out loud, but with the glow of his grace, I had never quite seen something so beautiful.

"Call me one of a kind." I tried to joke, but was absolutely floored by what I was seeing.

Castiel cleared his throat and shifted a little uncomfortably. "I...would appreciate it if you didn't stare."

My gaze snapped back to his and my face burned. "S-sorry. I've just...it's the first time I've ever seen an angel, and in all honesty I'd kind of given up on them existing."

He frowns at this. "You don't have a guardian?"

I shook my head.

"Guardian...what? Angel?" Dean asked, looking at me. "Why would she have a guardian angel Cas?"

"It's part of the lore." Sam said suddenly. "All those of supernatural sight are meant to have a guardian to watch over them, much like Chuck did, remember? I know it's different, but the effects should be the same."

I finally dragged my gaze away from Castiel, whose eyes were still on me. "I've never had anything like that, hell, I've been on the run since I was sixteen because of all this shit I could see."

"I still don't understand why the demons would want you?" Dean asked.

I sighed and slumped back in my chair. "It's not a matter of wanting me, it's the fact that I can see them without any problems." I saw Castiel frown. "Normally I don't have too much of a problem getting away, but these guys have been on my tail for weeks."

"Which is making you think they want to do more than kill you?" Sam asked.

"Theoretically." I nodded. "In all honesty, I'm glad you guys found me when you did."

"How did you find her?" Castiel suddenly peaked up, looking between Sam and Dean.

"We were on another case," Dean said. "The demons actually ran into us, guess they thought they could take out two birds with one stone. We were fighting when she showed up."

"I guess I kind of more ran into you." I said with a smile.

"Yeah and saved our butts too." Dean held up a beer in a cheers motion before taking a drink.

Castiel clearly didn't like this. "You fight?"

"Haven't had much of a choice." I purposefully made sure that I looked the angel in the eye. "That's why I was reading up on the law so that I can help take out the rest of them tracking me."

"Which is also why we asked you here." Dean said to Castiel. "We have a feeling that for them to be after her so much, that a top guys behind it."

"I'll help, but she can't come." Castiel said quickly.

But I just shrugged. "Then you won't find out where they are."

Castiel stared at me. "It's too dangerous."

"Like it or not, you won't find it without me." I said, unperturbed by him. "It's okay, I can handle myself." I took the knife off my belt and placed it on the table.

Castiel looked from me to the knife, thinking about what to do next, Sam and Dean watching.

"Fine," He said at last but then strode forward. "However, let me do this first."

I didn't have much of a choice as he just as quickly pressed two fingers to my forehead and a light filled my gaze.

Just as quickly, he stepped back and I blinked at him.

He was now completely normal.

I frowned. "What did you do?"

"Dulled your sense of me." He said, now avoiding my eye. "So there's no distraction."

I stared at him, feeling odd now looking at him as if he were human. "This is weird."

Castiel ignored me. "Are we going or what?"

It took about an hour for me to locate where they were, and we quickly put together a plan.

I went in with Sam, while Castiel went with Dean.

I'd frowned after them as they went around the back of the building.

"Is he normally like that?" I asked Sam.

Sam grimaces. "Ah...no, not quite."

I frowned but Sam moved on, not elaborating.

The first couple of demons were easy, but as we entered the main room, it became clear that it had been a trap.

Sam and I fought for a little before he was thrown against a wall and I was left on my own.

The same demon tried to throw me, but with no effect.

I smirked. "Sorry buddy, doesn't work on me."

"Then we'll do this the old fashioned way."

Three demons against one was hardly a fair fight, which is why I soon found myself pinned to a wall by two of them, the third looking amused.

I could feel a cut on my head bleeding, silently wondering where Dean and Castiel had gotten to. "Well, guess I had this coming sooner or later."

The demons black eyes stared at me, the darkness heavy around him, and his grin made my stomach turn. "Oh, you have no idea what's coming your way."

I noticed he was getting closer, knife in hand. "What? Going to kill me?"

"I would, but the boss can't have that. He's got his own plans." The demon's grin got wider. "Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun first."

He lunged and I braced myself for what was coming, but it never did. A sudden light burned through the room, making the demons scream even as I shielded my eyes.

Eventually, the light faded enough that I could see, Castiel standing in front of me, burning bright, his wings thrown wide, and facing five more demons that were entering the room.

"You will not harm her." His voice growled and I stared with wide eyes as the demons virtually disintegrate before my eyes.

Tension sat heavy in the air and I knew why. Castiel was furious.

I saw Dean rush over to Sam in the corner of my eye, but my focus was entirely on Castiel. I knew they couldn't see what I could and I had little doubt that Castiel was even aware that what he done was broken by this sudden appearance.

I took a cautious step closer. "Castiel?"

He doesn't move, breathing heavily.

I swallowed, but it wasn't fear that was causing my hesitation.

Carefully, without thinking, I reached forward and touched one of his wings.

The reaction was immediate and I found myself pinned back against the wall for a completely different reason.

Castiel's grip was tight on my upper arms as he blue eyes bore into mine.

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Are...are you alright?"

He blinked and his grip loosened, although he didn't let go. "Yes. Are you?"

I nod, not game enough to move.

Castiel's gaze softened and his hand came up to rest on my forehead again, the pain I'd forgotten about disappearing. "Good." He cleared his throat and stepped back, giving me room to move, even though I didn't.

"Thanks." I barely mumbled, still not entirely sure of what was happening.

He nods as Dean and Sam finally come over.

"Well, that was fun." Dean said, giving Castiel an odd look. "Good save there Cas."

Castiel shuffles a little and nods again. "It's fine." His gaze returns to mine. "If you need me, just call."

I don't get a chance to respond as the sound of wings echoed across the room and then Castiel was gone.

Dean and Sam watched me as I continued to stare at the spot the angel had been.

"Well, do you trust him now?" Dean asked, hiding a smile.

I finally looked at the brothers and blushed. "Shut up."

#supernatural #castiel #short #fanfic #mynewobsession

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erraticfairy · 5 years ago

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Podcast: Do Suicide Questionnaires Save Lives?

Should we be talking so plainly about suicidal ideation? What are the benefits of assessing our thought patterns over a period of time? Join us as we discuss the Columbia-Suicide Severity Scale screening tool. We tackle this sensitive topic after Jackie was surprised by a suicide assessment at a physician’s office. Rare trigger warning this week for a tough subject, as we explore talking openly about suicidal ideation.

(Transcript Available Below)

SUBSCRIBE & REVIEW

About The Not Crazy Podcast Hosts

Gabe Howard is an award-winning writer and speaker who lives with bipolar disorder. He is the author of the popular book, Mental Illness is an Asshole and other Observations, available from Amazon; signed copies are also available directly from Gabe Howard. To learn more, please visit his website, gabehoward.com.

Jackie Zimmerman has been in the patient advocacy game for over a decade and has established herself as an authority on chronic illness, patient-centric healthcare, and patient community building. She lives with multiple sclerosis, ulcerative colitis, and depression.

You can find her online at JackieZimmerman.co, Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn.

Computer Generated Transcript for “Suicide Questionnaires” Episode

Editor’s Note: Please be mindful that this transcript has been computer-generated and therefore may contain inaccuracies and grammar errors. Thank you.

Jackie: This episode discusses the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale. Listener discretion is advised.

Announcer: You’re listening to Not Crazy, a Psych Central podcast. And here are your hosts, Jackie Zimmerman and Gabe Howard.

Gabe: Pay attention Not Crazy fans, right now Not Crazy listeners get 25% off a Calm premium subscription at Calm.com/NotCrazy. That’s C A L M dot com slash Not Crazy. Forty million people have downloaded Calm. Find out why at Calm.com/NotCrazy.

Gabe: Welcome to the Not Crazy podcast. I would like to introduce my co-host, Jackie, who still has not seen the new Star Wars, just unacceptable. This is why you live with depression. You realize this, right?

Jackie: Wow. That snarky A-hole is my co-host, Gabe Howard, whose absolute lifetime favorite Star Wars character. Jar Jar Binks.

Gabe: Oh, that that is not true. That is a lie.

Jackie: Maybe that’s why you experience being bipolar. Because you can’t handle the guilt you feel about you having your favorite.

Gabe: I this is gonna be the last episode of Not Crazy because that’s so mean, you just can’t tell people.

Jackie: The truth?

Gabe: No. My favorite Star Wars character is probably like a toss up depending on my mood between Princess Leia, because a beautiful bad ass, and Darth Vader because, you know, I’m adopted. So he could be my real dad.

Jackie: I still maintain that before we started recording, everybody, he told me it was Jar Jar Binks and now he’s lying for the masses. Speaking of the masses, I was recently given my very first suicide severity rating test, and that was a bit of a doozy that I did not see coming. We don’t normally do this, but I feel like this episode might be a massive trigger. So here’s your trigger warning about suicide and suicidality. We are going to be talking about it in depth because of the in-depth questions on the screener.

Gabe: To put a little context here, a suicide severity rating scale test and one of the most popular ones is the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale. It’s essentially a questionnaire that medical personnel ask people to determine if you are suicidal, passively suicidal, actively suicidal.

Jackie: This screener was specifically was developed by Columbia University, the University of Pennsylvania, and the University of Pittsburgh in 2007.. But since then, in 2011, the CDC took it on using the protocols, definitions for suicidal behavior. And then in 2012, the FDA declared this protocol to be the standard for measuring suicidal ideation. So this is something that’s out there. And I guess I’m still surprised I didn’t know about it or didn’t see it coming.

Gabe: Is this literally the first time you’ve ever been given one?

Jackie: Literally the first time and a little bit of background, so I recently started a clinical trial for a multiple sclerosis drug. So on my first appointment they gave me this screening and I was assuming it was gonna be your average sort of like, have you ever been suicidal in the last two weeks? And you’re like, yes or no? And then you move on. End of quiz. But it wasn’t, and it was oof . Some of the questions I just did not see those coming. It was very I mean, it does its job. It’s supposed to find out on the scale how severe you are in terms of being suicidal and or how much you’ve planned around suicide. So I immediately sent Gabe a text and was like, do you know about this? Have you ever had it? We need to talk about it on the podcast.

Gabe: You were like, hey, they want to talk about suicide and the questions, I didn’t expect them. And the first question is, do you wish to be dead? And I don’t mean to make light of suicide. I’m sincerely not trying to do that. But one of the things that is fascinating about what you just said is you didn’t expect the suicide screener to ask if you wanted to die. And this is sort of where we are as a country. We always talk about suicide in like, hey, how you feelin? And the person’s like, pretty good. Excellent. They’re not suicidal. We’ve done the screener. And when the questions are really direct, they feel like like they feel heavy on your chest, like, oh, why are you asking me direct questions about life and death? I don’t like this. And I understand that, they’re heavy.

Jackie: Well, on my own behalf. They did not tell me actually the name of this scale. They were like, we’re gonna do a C-SSRS test. And like, I don’t know what the fuck that means, but hit me with the test, right. And then she did. And the first question, as you said, is do you wish to be dead? That is also not phrasing you generally get from medical professionals. And I think that is really the root of what kind of threw me on this one is the verbiage throughout the screener almost feels conversational. It doesn’t feel medical, which is, again, I think the point. This sort of conversational colloquial test is the standard now.

Gabe: As somebody who’s been in the mental health advocacy game for almost a decade now, it is interesting to see how it’s changed. People like me have been banging the drum that we need to talk about suicide, using real words directly. We can’t change speech patterns. We can’t come up with, you know, the words that make people feel comfortable, right. Because nobody feels comfortable if they’re dead. This screener does do a really good job. So full disclosure, we found the screener. This is the nice thing about having an extraordinarily popular podcast. People tend to give you shit when you ask for it. So we contacted a psychiatrist. We got all of their opinions on the subject. We got opinions of some of their colleagues, both good and bad. But the first topic is wish to be dead. But they actually have the specific question. And one of the suggested ways to ask the question, I really love it. It says. Have you ever wished you could go to sleep and never wake up?

Jackie: That’s what I’m saying, the verbiage here. Again, if you’re not expecting it also, I just want to like sidebar for one second. First of all, this protocol is meant to be given by trained professionals, which we are not. We are not giving each other the screener. We are merely discussing the questions on it.

Gabe: And just to be very, very, very, very, very clear, do not e-mail us and ask us for the screener so you can give it to your friends. It doesn’t work that way. If you feel that you have a friend that this needs to be given to, please go to an emergency room, call 9-1-1, make an appointment with their general practitioner. If you suspect they might need this screener, please act. Just don’t act by emailing a podcast, act by getting them medical attention.

Jackie: So the way that this protocol works is it asks you yes or no questions. And it talks about in your lifetime and then also within the past month. So, for instance, on the first one, it would say, have you wished you were dead in your lifetime? And I said uncomfortably, Yes. And then it said, have you wished you were dead in the last month? And I said, no. And that’s the thing, too, is they repeat the question completely for lifetime and last month. So it’s not like, OK. But in the last month, it’s they repeat it word for word. So you hear these questions at least twice during the screening.

Gabe: Jackie, while you were sitting there because you’re there for a physical health issue. So you weren’t planning on dealing with your mental health at all because again, for reasons that we can never explain. Most people separate physical and mental health out entirely. So I kind of want to give like a round of applause to this clinical trial and this medical staff that they understand that your mental health and your physical health go hand in hand. You kind of bought into this idea. You were there for physical health. Right. So the minute mental health questions came up, it was like an extra whump because it was unexpected.

Jackie: It was a whump, indeed, Gabe. I felt shame. I felt so much shame to have to say, yeah, I wanted to kill myself. And later on, this is how I plan to do it. I did not expect to feel that. But then as I realized the questions were going to be quite detailed, I almost had like an internal pep talk where I was like, nope, own this. Don’t be ashamed of this. It’s not who you are right now and you can’t learn from it, they can’t learn from it, if you’re not honest. So I had to like pep talk myself to get through some of these because the shame storm was brewing, but it didn’t need to.

Gabe: Let’s talk about the shame storm for a moment. Jackie’s shame storm, because you have been suicidal in the past. So the lifetime question you answered, yes. But in the last month you answered all no’s you have not been suicidal in the last month. You have not been suicidal in years.

Jackie: Correct.

Gabe: And yet the shame storms still came a comin’, even though you were essentially answering, for lack of a better word, correctly. Are you suicidal today? No. Do you want to go to sleep and never wake up today? No. In the last month, have you wanted to kill yourself? No. Like these are the right again making air quotes. These are the right answers. And yet you still reflected back to all those years ago when you answered yes and felt shame. Didn’t you feel any pride at how far you’ve come?

Jackie: No. And I think part of that is because of the nature of the questions. And don’t get me wrong, I think that this protocol is smart. It is the only one that really measures the severity of your suicidal ideations. However, for me personally, being in a good spot. Going back and reliving it in detail was kind of shameful because dying by suicide is shameful. Just ask anybody. Right. I don’t agree with that statement, but I think that’s the go to an end. The person giving me the screener, I was like, she doesn’t know me. She’s going to judge me. Just all these like negative self-talk moments came up and I just really wasn’t expecting it.

Gabe: I don’t think that anybody ever expects to talk about suicidality. It’s not a subject that most of us gravitate toward. Right. You know, we started this podcast out by teasing each other about Star Wars. That’s the kind of stuff that people want to talk about, pop culture. Small talk is designed around the weather and the local sports team. This is a weighty subject. But as we’ve learned, not talking about these weighty subjects is one of the things that’s given these weighty subjects space to really do a lot of damage. People who are feeling suicidal, they don’t have the words, they don’t have the words to walk up to somebody and say, hey, I want to kill myself. I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I have a plan. They don’t understand any of this terminology. And perhaps even more dangerous, even if somebody in that position does have the words, most people don’t understand how to respond to it. We tend to make jokes. I want to go to sleep and never wake up. Oh, don’t we all. Wake me up when September ends. Ha ha ha. Well, everybody feels this way in the winter. The winter blues. We just dismiss that person entirely. This obviously cuts through that.

Jackie: We’ll be right back after these words from our sponsors.

Announcer: Interested in learning about psychology and mental health from experts in the field? Give a listen to the Psych Central Podcast, hosted by Gabe Howard. Visit PsychCentral.com/Show or subscribe to The Psych Central Podcast on your favorite podcast player.

Gabe: Hey Not Crazy fans, this is one of your hosts, Gabe Howard. Are you struggling to sleep these days? Did you know that a good night’s sleep is like a magic remedy for the brain and body? When we sleep well, we are more focused and relaxed, and best of all, sleep makes us happier. And that’s why we are partnering with Calm, the number one ap for sleep. If you want to seize the day and sleep the night, you can with the help of Calm. Right now Not Crazy listeners get 25% off a Calm premium subscription at Calm.com/NotCrazy. That’s C-A-L-M dot com slash Not Crazy. Forty million people have downloaded Calm. Find out why at Calm.com/NotCrazy.

Announcer: This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp.com. Secure, convenient, and affordable online counseling. Our counselors are licensed, accredited professionals. Anything you share is confidential. Schedule secure video or phone sessions, plus chat and text with your therapist whenever you feel it’s needed. A month of online therapy often costs less than a single traditional face to face session. Go to BetterHelp.com/PsychCentral and experience seven days of free therapy to see if online counseling is right for you. BetterHelp.com/PsychCentral.

Jackie: And we’re back talking about the Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale, which freaked me right the f out when I received it at the doctor.

Gabe: Did you feel supported in this process? Because you’ve described feeling shame. You’ve described being caught off guard. You’ve described being scared. And then you described wanting to do a podcast on it. But never anywhere have you described feeling supported.

Jackie: The person giving me the screener, honestly, it’s not her job to be supportive or to be comforting during this process. I mean, she indicated even a little discomfort with the questions. At some point, because I guarantee you most people she’s asked this to said no to everything. She was just like, boom, boom, boom, this is super easy. And then she got to me and it was not easy. Because the first question said, have you ever wish you were dead or wished you could go to sleep and not wake up? So, yeah, right. I’ve wished I was dead. But the next question says, have you actually had thoughts of killing yourself? Which I thought was fascinating because you would think it would be. Well, yes, duh right. But it’s not right. They’re not the same question. They’re different. And the nuances of the question, I think, is what makes this interesting, also triggering, terrifying all of the like negative feelings that can come out of it or hopefully if you’re not me and you’re just sort of like owning your past and your story, just willing to say, yes, this is what happened.

Gabe: I want to give a little push back on something that you said, you said that it wasn’t the person’s job to make you feel comfortable, it was the person’s job just to ask the questions and fill out the charting. The pushback that I want to give is this is kind of untrue, right? It is the medical person’s job to make the patient feel comfortable. And I think this is one of the things that gives suicide space to hide. Right. So the person giving the test is uncomfortable. The person answering it is uncomfortable. So it sort of feels like that rhythm of, hey, how are you today? I’m fine. I’m fine, too. In the meantime, both of the people saying that are actually in extreme distress, but they both assume that the other person is fine. This shows you that we’re not doing a good job of training our medical personnel, especially since I would almost guarantee that that person probably thinks that mental health isn’t the primary part of their job because you were there for a physical issue. And again, I know I sound like a broken record, but this is why we have to stop treating them separately. The psychiatrists that I talked to that administer this test, they’re a lot more comfortable and they’ve talked about practicing poker faces and they talked about the advantage of silence where they would say, have you actually had thoughts of killing yourself? And then they would just sit and the person would mumble and make a joke.

Gabe: And just on and on and on. And they would just sit politely with that poker face and look at them and wait for that person. That’s like an excellent training point, right. Because when you’re uncomfortable and when people are making jokes, your knee jerk reaction is to like joke back. But then that diminishes the question. Obviously, I want to educate all the patients because I don’t think we have a lot of doctors listening to the show. Take this seriously. It’s a great way to gauge whether or not you’re doing better. The majority of us are in long term mental health care. We’re seeing therapists and doctors talking to our general practitioners. We’ve been dealing with mental illness and mental health issues for a long, long time. So having this in our charts and being able to look back five years from now and be like, oh, my God, I’m doing so much better. Like, that’s awesome. Right. But it’s also an early warning system.

Jackie: I actually totally agree because every time I go back now, they ask me the same questions and I’m in a good spot, right? So I say no to everything. But I wish that I had this when I was actually severely suicidal because it would have been nice to see where I was. And maybe then I could have said, like, look how far I’ve come. Right. So, question 5 Have you started to work out or worked out the details of how to kill yourself? Do you intend to carry out this plan? And that’s where I was like, oh shit. I’ve never really told anybody my plan to kill myself. Right? It’s one thing to say I’ve had suicidal thoughts. I really thought about it. But it’s another thing to say this is exactly the plan that I had and I told her and that felt wildly uncomfortable. She gave me a look of like, oh, wow, this is intense, right? Like when people give you a suicide screener, say, hey, how you feelin? And you’re like, I’m cool. All right. How’s your blood pressure? It doesn’t get into tell me how you planned to kill yourself. That feels like a therapy question.

Gabe: I believe that 100 percent of conversations about mental illness, mental health, our emotions, our feelings, have value 100 percent. And people say things like, well, even the asshole trolls on the Internet? Yes, it has value. It shows you what not to do. It shows you how not to behave. It shows you how not to be supportive. There is something to glean from every interaction. And we, Jackie, hate it when people tell you the right way to talk about mental health. We hate it when people tell us the right way to discuss mental illness, emotions, mental health crisis, grief, anxiety, because not everybody has the same words as Gabe Howard and Jackie Zimmerman. And we don’t have the same words as everybody else. When I was a kid, I described anxiety as a tummy ache, and I was shocked to learn years later that a research study confirmed that kids who have chronic stomach aches more often than not are having issues with anxiety. But my family did the same thing that other families did. Oh, it’s just butterflies. Oh, you’re just nervous. Oh, don’t be a baby. And of course, it was the 80s, so I got don’t act like a girl. Don’t be a sissy. And none of this addressed the anxiety that I was having and my family, they go all the way back to all of this. And like, man, imagine if we would have gotten Gabe help for his anxiety when he was twelve instead of 25. Like what horrors could he have avoided? It’s all water under the bridge now. But, I’ve always said that I want the next Gabe to have better resources and openly discussing these things is going to get you better resources. I don’t know that this was available back in 2003 when I was in the hospital.

Jackie: It wasn’t. It came out in 2007.

Gabe: Yeah. So Gabe in 2003 was kind of asked some basic and some blunt questions. Now, ultimately, it did get me admitted to the psychiatric hospital. But I read over this thing and I read the history of this thing and it’s an excellent step. And I talked to the psychiatrists, and even some of the psychiatrist that were like, you know, it needs work, they still see it as a vast improvement

Jackie: Hmm.

Gabe: Over doing nothing. They still see it as a vast improvement over the well, every psychiatrist just kind of figures out how they ask and uses their gut. This has a scoring method. This has a list of questions that you really don’t skip over. Right. You ask them all. You score it. It doesn’t rely as much on an individual’s provider’s gut instinct. And I think that’s incredible.

Jackie: Yes, there is no subjectiveness it’s still is on the patient to give honest answers, but at no point in here does the facilitator of the protocol give an opportunity to say, oh, I think they’re actually feeling this way. I don’t know if maybe some of the other screeners do that, but this feels like actual data that they are collecting. It’s not subjective and it’s measurable based on the scoring over time as well, like you said, which makes it a great tool, right? It is a great tool. It’s just when you’re not expecting it. It is a slap to the face where you’re like, oh, we’re talking about this now. We are like really talking about this now.

Gabe: I understand it’s scary. I understand it’s a slap to the face, but there’s lots of things in our life. That’s a slap to the face. There just are. Having somebody that you respect and somebody that you trust to tell you that your favorite Star Wars character is Jar Jar Binks is a slap to the face. But then it gave me the opportunity to explain to everybody that Jackie is an idiot and that Jar Jar Binks is awful and that allows us to work it out and move forward. The bottom line is, if we’re not discussing Jar Jar Binks, Jar Jar Binks would have had a much larger role in episodes 2 and 3. But by openly discussing how much we hated that character, he was diminished. And that’s what we want for suicide. We want suicide to be diminished and impact less people.

Jackie: It’s not funny, I’m laughing, but it’s not funny. It’s kind of funny. But yes, I agree. I think that the better tools we have, the more we make this something that people can talk about now. You know, it’s not supposed to be hidden. And I think that there’s a lot of motion among advocates and among patients worldwide to make this something that we talk about now, only because it helps with prevention, but also because it gives us something to learn from. And this protocol is a great way to do it from a medical provider standpoint. I just think that you should give your patients a little bit of warning what they’re getting. But if you are that patient, use it as a learning tool, like Gabe said earlier. It is a great tool. It’ll be kept in your file. You’ll be able to refer to it later. If you get this protocol don’t want the shame storm build like it did for me. Look at it as a learning experience and be proud that you’re still here to be answering these questions, even if they’re difficult.

Gabe: And Jackie, don’t be so hard on yourself. Yeah. It’s a big topic. You had a shame storm. You owned it. You admitted it. And you called a buddy.

Jackie: I agree there is no easy way to talk about how you planned to kill yourself. There just isn’t. But you can own those experiences by talking about them and by reaching out to people like Gabe said.

Gabe: I like it. Now, I want to be very, very, very clear, if you are worried about yourself, tell somebody call 9-1-1, go to an emergency room, and tell your general practitioner. Tell a trusted friend or family member. If you are worried about a friend or family member, encourage them to seek help. We don’t want to sit at home and doctor each other. That’s not how any of this works. So please, please, we’re really serious about that. Jackie is in roller derby and she will check your ass.

Jackie: [laughter]

Gabe: All right, everybody here is what we need you to do: where ever you downloaded this podcast, leave us as many stars, bullets, hearts or whatever they’re using this week as possible. But use your words. Tell people why you love this podcast. We would take it as a personal favor if you share us on social media. Want to hear something on the show? Email [email protected] and tell us what you want to hear, know about, what you like, what you dislike, and whether or not Jackie should die her hair blue again. Gabe has personally missed it. Remember after the credits there are always outtakes because it turns out that Jackie and I screw up a lot. We will see everybody next week.

Jackie: Have a great week.

Announcer: You’ve been listening to Not Crazy from Psych Central. For free mental health resources and online support groups, visit PsychCentral.com. Not Crazy’s official website is PsychCentral.com/NotCrazy. To work with Gabe, go to gabehoward.com. To work with Jackie, go to JackieZimmerman.co. Not Crazy travels well. Have Gabe and Jackie record an episode live at your next event. E-mail [email protected] for details.

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2ZC52al via theshiningmind.com

#World of Psychology #child psychology

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