#but some days when my annoyance threshold is low. things feel bad and loud and annoying and demanding

[bogkeep]

there's a book i Want to read, that has been on my radar even before i wrote the Royalty Tropes Post, but has now been so very loudly hyped up in the tags of it i'm worried i'll get dissappointed..... i did this to myself i Understand but aaugugh.

[r0und3bitch]

BFF’s 💔 - Gray Area

Summary: Everyone’s sick of your newfound bad girl reputation, except one person…

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!! Cursing, fighting, mentions of blood, heavy drug use, innocence kink, bad girl kink, cum play, dominant themes. 

Notes: it’s a gray day here today and this song came on shuffle (cover art in the pics)— wrote this in an hour, apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes! 

Song Inspiration: 44phantom - Gray! 

“Godammit, Y/N! Enough!” 

“She fucking started it!”

“Like hell she did!”

You felt Topper's strong arms nearly manhandle you through the sea of people, the loud thud of the bass echoing through the walls of the party still felt deep in your chest as your heart rate pulsed to an all time high. 

“I didn’t—”

“You instigated that whole fucking thing! I saw it with my own eyes—”

You attempted to claw at his arms but it was no use, his strength far outweighing yours as he pushed you through the threshold of the front door and forced you out onto the porch, literally kicking and screaming. 

“I didn’t fucking do anything!”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” He screamed loudly at you. “I’ve fucking had it with your shit all summer—”

“That such bullshit—”

“Enough!”

He threw you into one of the large oak chairs lining the porch and as you attempted to interject again. 

“Sit down and shut the fuck up, Y/N!”

In all fairness, you had to slightly hand it to Topper. 

After all of your chaos this summer— Topper was the only friend that was even remotely still willing to deal with your bullshit. Truth be told, Topper was the only friend you had left— or did, staring down at the bit of blood smeared on your hand as the clock untimely ran out with him too as you stared up at his maddening figure above you. 

“Stay here and don’t fucking move while I go try and deal with this and clean up your mess, again…”

A final look down to you, one of pure disgust and annoyance— a face you knew well. A face normally reserved for his other best friend. A face normally reserved for none other than Rafe Cameron.  

As if some sick twist of fate was at play— you heard his voice carry through the night before you saw him step onto the porch. 

“That was all on them, Kelce!”

“Whatever, man! I don’t even know—”

Both figures stopped when they saw you, analyzing your heated state with caution. 

Kelce only took once single irritated glance at you before throwing a murderous look in Rafe’s direction. A single roll of his eyes was all he left you two with as he marched back into the house, leaving Rafe staring down at you amusedly.  

He looked partially disheveled himself, sweat lining his brow, his hair no doubt pushed back across his face dozens of times already as that lone strand fell onto his forehead, shirt slightly wrinkled yet his demeanor as cool as ever, hearing him clear his nostrils several times— a head giveaway. 

“Someone looks like they’re in timeout.” 

He laughs as you gaze up at him, feeling like his gaze is piercing through you in the darkness. 

“I could say the same for you…let me guess, everyone’s sick of your shit too?” 

You’re left staring at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Rafe watches you stand slowly, taking a purposeful step towards him, his breath hitching unexpectedly as you never break eye contact with him. 

Only when you start to raise a hand to his face does Rafe notice the blood on your hand, trying to piece it together but his mind being taken over by the feeling of your skin on his. 

Your finger gently brushes away the white residue on his nose, eyes twinkling with something far from innocence. 

“Care to share?” 

It takes a few moments for Rafe to register what you’re asking, a low laugh escaping his lips as he tries to rationalize with himself.  

“This isn’t you…”

“It is now…”

He sees the twinkle in your eyes latch onto something within his, sparking to a flame that Rafe swore he could actually feel on his face. 

“What happened to the old, sweet little innocent, Y/N?”

The question fell easily from his lips, not taking a moment to remotely think of what your response would be as the hairs on his neck stood up at your words. 

“She’s dead.” 

And then, leaning forward into him suggestively, whispering up into his ear as though you were telling the world's biggest secret. 

“I killed her.”

On instinct, you felt Rafe’s hand grab yours, your fingers entwining all too easily as you abandoned Topper's command and let him guide you back into the house and through the maze of people. 

He doesn’t let go until he’s pulled both of you into a spare bedroom, looking around the room until landing on the small bedside table. 

“This will work…”

You watch as he pulls the bag out of his pocket, dumping some of the contents onto the table and beginning to make identical “little” lines. 

Rafe feels you kneel down next to him, eyeing him intently as he watches your dress hitch higher up your legs trying to rid his mind of even remotely going to where it wants to at the sight of you on your knees. 

“You sure you wanna do this, it’s not—”

“Rafe— are you gonna shut the fuck up and quit lecturing me and hand me that $100 bill or am I going to have to pry it out of your hand?”

As stunned as he is, and as badly as he would love to see you try, he can’t help the enormous grin that breaks out across his face at your words, your sassiness tugging at something deep within him. 

He kneels down next to you as he hands you the bill, watching you bring it up to your face and inhale the biggest line, the one he’d actually cut for himself. 

With each line, you could feel your brain going fuzzy, feeling that gray static take over each one of your senses. 

Meanwhile, each one of Rafe’s senses has been overtaken by you— unable to pry his eyes away from your face. 

You notice him staring down at you after a moment, looking up at him trying to feign innocence but he could see right through you. 

“What?” You ask, almost too forward. 

Rafe’s fingers reach out to grab onto your chin, your own breath catching in your throat at the feeling as he stares right through you. 

“I think you like being bad…”

Fingers still holding your chin in place, he watches a grain break across your own face now.

“Well, you’d know…”

Staring into your eyes at this moment, Rafe felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump— ready to feel that free falling, pure bliss feeling that he knew only you could give him right now. 

Broken memories of the past flood back to him— of you and your mom at the bake sale in middle school, of you teaching Weezie to swim in the Cameron pool, of the girl too afraid to kill spiders growing up. But the more recent ones too— of the fights he’d heard about and witnessed, of Topper's nonstop relentless bitching of your shitty attitude lately, something that Rafe was all too familiar with…

As that flame in your eye caught fire in his own, Rafe thought maybe, just maybe for the first time in his life, he didn’t have to feel alone. 

Before he could put any more thought into it, he did the only logical thing he could as he jumped off the cliff. 

Your brain explodes when Rafe leans forward and kisses your jaw, holding his lips there for several seconds before he pulls back and whispers in your ear. 

“Hold still…”

You do as you're told, watching as Rafe takes his credit card to grab some of the white powder off the table, bringing it up to dip in your clavicle, that sweet spot where your shoulder nearly meets your neck. He throws the card back down on the table, his hungry gaze meeting yours as you watch him bring his face into your neck, feeling shivers down your spine as his breath fans your skin, hearing him inhale deeply as your eyes close at the feeling. 

You shudder loudly in his grasp when you feel his tongue run across your skin, swirling back and forth along your shoulder blade like he’s literally trying to taste you. 

His head pulls back to look at you, watching as your eyes flutter openly lazily. 

“Your turn…” 

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when Rafe lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room as he hands you the rolled up bill. 

He’s holding it out to you, but you just stare down at it, eyes finding his as you make no move to take it from him. 

“Yeah…but have I earned it?”

Rafe could’ve choked. 

“What…?”

“I’ve been bad…right?” 

Rafe gulps deeply as he looks down at you, eyes hungry with something unfamiliar to him, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah…yeah, that’s true.”

He’s standing above you now, brain trying to catch up as he watches your fingers undo his belt, mind exploding as you plant a kiss right above his pelvis as you pull his pants down slightly, freeing his already hardened cock from his pants. 

He can’t believe it’s your hand wrapped around him right now as she shudders in your grasp, unbelieving that this is happening. 

“Y/N, you don’t—”

“Let me show you how bad.”

Rafe nearly screams as your mouth wraps around his entire length, feeling your tongue swirl up and down on him, your hand coming up to take what little of him you can’t fit in your mouth.

“Holy shit—”

The inherent shyness you'd harbored growing up was nowhere to be found as Rafe watched your mouth bob up and down expertly on him, your eyes begging for his the entire time, breasts threatening to spill from your dress at the quick motion. 

She’s perfect. 

“Fuck, Y/N that feels so good—”

A loud, thundering knock booms from the door but your mouth stays planted firmly where it’s at. 

“Someone’s in here!” Rafe shouts through gritted teeth. 

“Rafe?”

Both of you immediately recognize Toppers voice—

“Fuck—”

Rafe’s mind is blown to a thousand pieces as instead of retreating at the sound of Topper's voice, you start to work your mouth even faster against him, making him nearly scream out. 

“Have you seen, Y/N?!” Topper yells from the other side of the door. 

“Yeah I’ve fucking seen her…” 

He whispers only loud enough for you to hear him, watching the girl in question— his beautiful, perfect best friend wink up at him before shoving his dick as far back into her throat as it will go, making him bite down on his cheek till he’s sure to leave a mark. 

“Rafe?!” Topper demands as another thud hits the door. 

“No— haven’t fucking seen her! Little busy in here Top—”

But your mouth is working way too fast, as both yours and Rafe’s eyes roll to the back of your head, Rafe squeezing down on your shoulder, the same one he’d just inhaled coke off of, for dear life as he feels it build up. 

“God dammit! She better not be getting into another fight, I swear to god—”

But Rafe’s not listening as Topper's voice grows distant, too lost in you and the complete control you have over him right now as grits your name over and over again through his teeth. 

“Fuck, baby— I’m—”

He groans out loud when he feels your lips detach from him at the exact moment he needs you most— only to be replaced by both your hands as they pump him back and forth at wicked speed. 

He watches as your tongue pokes out expectantly through your lips at the exact moment Rafe’s world blows apart, watching himself explode all over your chest, catching some in your awaiting mouth, the rest staining the sparkly material of your dress. 

Catching his breath, one of your hands glenty continues to stroke him, the act of you holding onto his cock like that for some reason reminding him of holding hands, as your other hand comes down to your chest, fingers lapping up the sticky substance— watching as you bring both fingers up to your mouth and suck on them— reminding Rafe of a stupid little baby. 

Rafe takes his own fingers to your chest and mirrors your actions, relishing in the feeling of your tongue lapping his own cum off his fingers. 

“I think I like you better bad…”

...

Taglist: @lurkymurker @mackenzielovee @mor-bs @totallynotkaibiased @aaleksmorozova @onlygetaway @itsalexwin @tsnelf7 @starkeybae @kotzmagoatz @maybanks-cupcake @goldenjo @valentinearc @valeriiecameron @lovedetlost @drewbooooo @barbietiingz @steveharringtonswifey09 @onmykneesforrafe @roguextasies

[01010010-posts]

— am I your future?

request: Okay but pls imagine the rk's meeting an ex-boyfriend of readers... Like theyre home alone for the day and a stranger comes up to the door and theyre like "whomst the fuck" and then he reveals he's readers ex and he wants to talk with them. Imagine these jealous nervous bois freaking the fuck out because AHHH READER USED TO BE IN LOVE WITH THIS OTHER GUY AND HOW HE'S H E R E... And like what if theyd heard of this ex and knew he was bad news (im sorry im a hoe for protective/jealous rks...)

is this ok?? you wanted jealous type & bad ex baby?? did i do this right??

Connor:

• “come on, ordering dessert too?” he giggles, drawing soothing circles on your back, his pupils dawdling with a dreamy gaze on your features, raptured in your love, basking in that soft tug of your mouth • you laugh, rolling your eyes “yes, dessert too” and then you mutter “since someone’s always eager to burn some calories with me” • he bites his lips, blushing a bit blue on the tip of his nose “that’s not fair at all, it’s your fault for being so cute” • “ahh now it’s my fault” you continue, his palms exploring your skin, lowering until they get in contact with your bottom • “yes, [name], it’s your fault” he murmurs near your lobe, teasing you to no end • well, no, there is an end • an end with a very distinct name and surname • “get a room, you two!” the shout of your ex between the chatter of your friends • ugh • your boyfriend goes rigid, a nervous titter, slightly embarrassed, touch lingering but devoid of the same warmth as before • perfect! just perfect! you think, you were busy having a moment but nooo of course they’re gonna ruin it • it was awkward enough when you got invited to this dinner without being told your ex was there too • but you didn’t imagine it would be this bad • don’t worry, as things can and will get worse • in fact, watch!, your last partner is slowly snaking their way to both of you, a sly grin on the face and two bottles of beer • they sit next to your precious robot, offering him to drink together, he politely refuses • “can’t taste? a shame!” that stupid no-good begins a wishy-washy speech, obviously tipsy, trying to get a reaction, probably wanting a fight • they do strike a nerve with you tho and you start tapping your nails on the marble table • he notices, analyzing you from the corner of his lashes, his chords humming off and on, not paying attention • he tries, i swear, he tries resisting and being his usual collected self • but seeing you like this? fed up? distressed? casually checking your phone while he’s stuck listening such endless ramblings   • “um, sorry” he excuses himself, suddenly whisking you away from the room, hiding with you in the restroom • “what– what are you doing?” breath hitching you find yourself against the wall, trapped by his body pressed onto yours • “if your ex keeps talking I’m surely going to have a short circuit” • you snort, not expecting him to be so brash but welcoming his behaviour with a gentle cupping of his jaw • “besides” he kisses you “I was” another kiss “getting” kiss “kinda” again, a kiss “jealous” 

RK900:

• he’s been waiting for the whole week, finally, a day where you two can be alone, rest, cuddle, simply indulge in each other • he’s super happy about it, he can’t stop kissing you while you’re both playing some boring board game • i mean, it’s not boring since you know, he’s a super clever AI, he can switch on your competitive side in every match • the bell?? he looks in your eyes and you in his • “are we expecting someone?” he questions and you nod in disagreement • “I’ll go get the door” he plants a tiny peck on your forehead and leaves the couch • but as soon as you hear the voice of the person behind the (now open) door your blood freezes • “baby? it’s for you” his tone is neutral but he doesn’t move, effectively blocking the entrance • you reluctantly join him on the threshold and stare at your ex • “what do you want?” you lean onto your lover, a deadly mix of fear, bad memories and utter annoyance clouds your mind • but he’s not stupid, he picks it up the moment you speak, already angry at the fact that his afternoon was ruined by some random scum • actually, not random, that’s what makes him livid • it’s your fucking ex, you had feelings, you had sex, you had a relationship • all things that you have with him now • to say he’s jealous would be terribly kind • he’s almost denting the door jamb his hand is resting on • yep speaking of that, the other free one swiftly grabs you by your hip in a lovely grip, tender, sweet, how he is • the complete contrary of your ex btw • the only time he asked you about them you got tense for the whole night • and he felt so guilty about not being more careful and so mad with your last partner • “you’ve got yourself an android? wow, sunken so low?” • you close your lids for a second and sigh in exasperation, really? very predictable • “yeah, you’re right, he treats me nice and loves me, the bar’s sunken pretty low” • this dork can’t help but let a low and quick chuckle escapes his lips • the same that go onto yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, nearly leaving you gasping • he tilts your head, caressing your cheek, then turns to the person standing on the doorway again • “i’m sorry, as my partner said before, do you truly have business here?” • your thoughts still hazy, your ex about to speak but— • he closes the door in front of their face with a loud bang 

RK800-60:

• it’s a chilly summer evening, fresh breeze, a limpid sky, honestly the only thing to do is go out and enjoy detroit’s nightlife • plus, it’s your boyfriend we’re talking about, he’s the embodiment of having fun 24/24 h • you find a nice club, music not too loud but there nevertheless, if he wants he can go dancing while you’re sipping your drink • which is a thing that might or might not happen • he doesn’t want to leave you alone but gosh the beat is totally calling him • “hello, is this seat free?” • a familiar tone drills through your ears, you whip towards the sound • your ex • god, your ex • you briefly mentioned something about them to your darling but • “yes, it is” he smiles and replies, unaware of the situation • “oh but it’s you, [name]! how long has it been? six months?” • “more than that” • “seriously? time flies then!” • “you know this person, sweetie?” he half-whispers, his expression that of a lovesick puppy, already oddly getting the hint of something being wrong, probably because of your accelerated pulse he can feel with his fingers on your wrist • “y–yeah, it’s my ex—” • “so clumsy of you, [name], you should introduce me properly” • he’s dumb when he wants but not this time, his LED blaring red, fidgeting and moving closer to you, an arm around your shoulder, protecting you • “don’t worry, I can do that myself. nice to meet you, I’m [name]’s boyfriend.” • there was absolutely no need to but he did it anyway • he’s so nervous please excuse him • not only he’s jealous because he’s a champ in inferiority complex • but he’s also fuming? it’s pretty obvious how mean is this asshole you don’t have to tell him • “you’ve found someone else? thought our relationship left you quite heartbroken, but then again, you’ve always been the promiscuous type, haven’t you?” a snicker and there’s nothing after that • your android doesn’t hesitate and strikes a punch, perhaps putting too much force and fracturing their nose • he’s not even completely conscious about his action, he just felt the urge and did it, his LED slowly returning to yellow and then blue • “what the fuck—” your ex doesn’t get to finish the phrase, him grabbing the collar of their shirt, his fist feigning another hit and they put their hands to cover the face, scared, trembling • “don’t you dare approach [name] ever again, clear?” he grits through his teeth but there’s no response “I said, are we clear?” • after a feeble choked ‘yes’ he loosens the grasp, letting your old partner falling to the ground • he takes you home immediately, too pissed off to talk about what he did • he’s a bit scared you’ll scold him but there was no choice, believe him, he felt he had to • he spend the rest of the night cuddling and reassuring you

[docholligay]

Talismans: Secrets--Part One, Rei and Usagi

Another Talismans rewrite installment is coming out on the Patreon today, so I decided to release this installment on the blog! Let me know if you enjoy! Everything I’ve written in this AU/rewrite is here. 

“Rei!” Usagi jumped in front of her excitedly, like a small puppy who is just reminded her owner exists, “I got us tickets for the dumpling festival this Saturday! It begins at 11--”

“I’ll have to meet you later.,” Rei did not mean to be so short, truth be told, but Usagi pressed the point a bit too often these days, “I have a meeting.”

If Rei were kinder, she often thought, she would have cut off her friendship with Usagi long ago. It was difficult to have casual friendships, to say nothing of the close ones, when you were a senshi, protecting something you barely understood with a band of comrades that were not quite friends and not quite family but somehow both of those at the same time. She could not explain it to Usagi, even if she wanted to, and she so desperately did, longed to tell anyone outside of the situation about the fear and the loneliness and the pain, the wondering what her grandfather would say if she didn’t come home one night, the difficult dance of working with 6 other girls she did not truly understand.

But she was Rei, and she was Mars, and she was a pillar of strength, and most importantly, that the transformation ring glowed hot against her finger was a secret she could not reveal. A secret that would hurt Usagi.

And so she said as little about these things as possible.

“What kind of meeting?” Usagi drew near her, clutching the two tickets to her chest.

“Just...for school.” Rei started walking out of the park, toward the noise and color of the city.

“Okay!” Usagi popped, “I’ll come with, and just have some cake or something, and we can go right after.”

Rei shook her head, but did not look at Usagi, afraid she would find herself unable to lie. “You can’t, Usagi. It’s a group project. We don’t even go to the same school.”

“No Rei!” Usagi, as always, had a quick answer, “I’ll be really quiet, or I could even sit at a different table until you finish! Then we don’t have to worry about meeting up!”

Rei bit her tongue, but wheeled on her hell and turned to Usagi, scolding her. “No, Usagi, you can’t come.”

You can’t follow me here, where things are so dangerous, where the future is so uncertain.

Usagi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and began to cry, quietly at first, and then culminating in a loud wail.

“Wh-hy-hy are you EMBARRASSED by me-he-he?!” She pulled the front of her dress up to blow her nose, and Rei pulled it back down before her rainbow pug underwear showed to the street.

“Usagi,” her voice softened, and she touched her shoulder gently, “I’m not embarrassed by you.”

“You never-never want to be around me anymo-ho-hore.” She buried herself into Rei’s shoulder, hugging her tightly.

Usagi, if you knew how bad I wish we could just sit and eat pizza in my room, talking about nothing...but that isn’t my life now, and it won’t ever be again.

It had been easier at the beginning, Rei was sure. The creatures they found were fewer and further between, but as their powers had consolidated, so had the darkness that permeated, Pluto had said once they discovered the Talismans  the princess would be revealed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

It would be better if she left Usagi behind, if she never let her get in the way of the danger of being so near a Senshi. If anyone found her identity...Rei didn’t like to think about it. Usagi could hardly defend herself from a rainstorm, to say nothing of the dangers they’d faced. If the creatures they’d killed.

The last thought filled her with a chill. She had killed her first last week. It was Michiru or Mina, more often than not, for unspoken reasons that often boiled to the quiet knowledge that they had done it before, that this was the thing Mina and Michiru shared, as sun and moon though they were, they both gave a light.

But not this time. This time, it had been her. Mina had been too far, Michiru had been too surrounded, and Rei had been face to face with the thing herself, and her hand hesitated, as much as she knew it was not a human, not like some of the creatures the others had killed, whose bodies turned back when they crumpled and died.

“The same will happen to us,” Michiru said, the cool ocean of her eyes meeting the deep fire of Rei’s, “when we perish. We become ourselves, again.”

When and not if, Rei noted.

“How do you know?”

“I have Seen it. The power lives. We die.”

But she had pulled her bow and taken the lethal shot, and a cool shock went through her, knowing she had passed over a threshold from which she could never return, just as the threshold she had stepped over when she had taken the rod from Pluto’s hand.

Every one she stepped over made her feel a little less human. A little further from Usagi.

She felt that new, fresh, cold within her even more as Usagi held her tight, nearly threatening her with the warmth and kindness of her body, a person who could not know what it was to take the shot. Who would never have to know.

“Usagi,” she finally said, warmer than she felt, “I do want to be around you.”

Usagi pulled away and sniffled. “But--but--”

“I know,” Rei pulled her in an hugged her, “I’m busy. I have so much going on with the shrine, and school, and...everything. And those other girls are really focused. And,” she leaned in and nodded, “They’re jerks anyway.”

It sounded insincere, even to her ear, but Rei was not sure how to act her own part, how to be a Rei that was telling the truth without having to do so. Her voice was too soft, wasn’t it? Her hug too gentle. There were a million tiny tells that Rei all noted, and yet could not bring herself to act more convincingly.

She could only hope that Usagi’s lack of attention extended to even her.

Usagi nodded, tucking the stray bit of hair behind her ear, worn low today with pink ribbon run through it that perfectly matched the roses embroidered on her blue dress.

If Rei were kinder, she often thought, she would have cut off her friendship with Usagi long ago. But no, she couldn’t leave Usagi, no matter if it was the only right thing to do. There was a certain quality of her moments with Usagi, something drawing her in, something that Rei thought must be true friendship, unfettered by the duty that she shared in common with her other comrades at arms. Something that was truly hers.

Usagi smiled brightly, comforted by the rare joy of having received a hug from Rei without her having to press the point too severely, and looked over at the stores and cafes to her right.

“You know, I think they’d like me more, if they knew me! Haruka seemed to need a friend, and--”

“Haruka needs something, all right,” Rei gave a low chuckle, thinking of how insufferably moody she had been since she and Michiru had parted ways, “I’m happy to give it to her.”

But it wasn’t in Usagi’s nature to see someone being dramatic, annoying everyone. It was in her nature to see someone in pain, who needed a hand. And that was what made her lovely to Rei, wasn’t it? That they were so different?

As if responding to Rei’s thoughts, Usagi put her hands on her hips and scowled at Rei, forgetting her sadness in the midst of her annoyance on Haruka’s behalf.

“Rei, you’re so mean!” Usagi scolded, and Rei tried not to smile at the familiarity of it, of it’s ease and comfort, “Sometimes people just need someone to be nice to them!”

“Usagi,” she rolled her eyes, but put her arm around Usagi’s shoulder, “you can’t fix people just by loving them.”

“Maybe you just don’t try.” Usagi responded, crossing her arms and waving her nose in the air, although the effect was a bit marred by the smile breaking on her face.

“Well, maybe I would for people who were WORTH it.” Rei parried, in their easy banter, where Rei was too hard, and Usagi too soft, and the bickered over the way to see the world.

“Oh,  you don’t ever give anyone a break!” She grinned up at Rei, “It’s like you just…”

Her smile faded, and she stopped, looking at Rei, facing her as the wind blew hot down the streets of Tokyo, carrying faded summer flowers, limp from heat and time, into the streets of the city, crushed under the heels of the people walking by.

“What?” Rei made it sound hard, and furrowed her brow, trying to continue the script they had written for themselves over and over, to dissolve whatever thoughts Usagi was having about the life that Rei led, when she was not at Usagi’s hand.

“Rei,” Usagi looked at her, her eyes filled with tears, “you know you can tell me anything? You can trust me.”

“I trust you, Usagi.” She said it more earnestly than she meant to, more sweetly and more softly, all the while her mind running with the thousand reasons she could never tell Usagi about her destiny, about the things Rei had to face and do.

“Then,” She held onto Rei’s arm, “why won’t you tell me where you go? Or why you have bruises?”

“Usagi, I can--”

“Is someone hurting you, Rei?! Because, I’ll--I’ll--” She burst into sobs, leaning against Rei’s shoulder again, and for all the times they’d tried to walk forward, Rei noticed they had simply stayed in this same spot.

“You’ll cry all over them?” Rei chuckled, and then steeled her voice, “Usagi, nobody’s hurting me but it’s none of your business, honestly. I’m fine,” she pulled Usagi away, but smiled, “I promise. It’s just a hobby I want to keep to myself.”

If Rei were kinder, she often thought, she would have cut off her friendship with Usagi long ago.

[circlique]

Insomnia (Korea Bros)

I’ve always had a headcanon that the Koreas are insomniacs as a result of their division and decided to explore it a little.

Author: circlique (me) on AO3/FF.net Character(s): North Korea and South Korea, minor appearances from America and China; no ships Rating: T (minor language) Word Count: 2885 Chapter Warnings: Medication use (but not abuse) Fic Summary: Without the sleep pills, Yong Soo, too, would be kept awake by the flashes of the many lives he could no longer feel, disembodied voices of citizens that were his, but weren’t, the intense magnetic pull of a part of his country he would never be able to reach. It tugged at the empty part of him whenever he found himself in a moment of quiet, but never more than when he was alone in the dark, trying to get sleep to lift him away into the darkness. It was a problem uniquely theirs, and Yong Soo was quite possibly the only person who understood enough to be sympathetic.

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A knock at the door at this hour couldn’t be good.

The week of conferences had only just begun. Yong Soo had arrived in New York earlier that afternoon, after boarding a flight that had left Seoul nearly a day ago. After 17 hours in a cramped plane cabin, he was exhausted and looking forward to getting a decent night’s rest. Alfred had pulled out all the stops for this one, renting out one of New York’s finest hotels for the annual World Conference. It had taken all of Yong Soo’s willpower to keep from flopping down on the luxurious bed, with its gleaming white sheets and down stuffed pillows, and forgetting the rest of the world the moment he’d walked in. Instead, he’d forced himself to find something to do until later that night so he could adjust to the time change.

It was now nearly 10pm. He was in the bathroom, about to take a dose of sleep pills, when the sound of knuckles rapping on his door had filled the little hallway next to the bathroom. Only emergencies come knocking on doors at 10pm.

With a sigh, he went to answer the door—and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Yong Soo’s heart sank into his stomach at the sight of the last person in the world he wanted to see. His twin stood just beyond the threshold of the doorway, wearing a loose-fitting shirt and sweat pants, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever. He did not look up at Yong Soo even after he’d stood in the doorway in silence for several uncomfortably long seconds.

“What do you want?” Yong Soo growled at last, his fingers tightening around the edge of the door.

“You know what I want,” Sang Kyu grumbled, continuing to glare elsewhere.

Yong Soo did, in fact, know what Sang Kyu was there for, and he had half a mind not to give it to him.

“Why should I help you?” Yong Soo demanded, keeping his voice low though he wanted so badly to yell at Sang Kyu to go away.

Sang Kyu met Yong Soo’s eyes with an icy look. “It’s in your interest for both of us to be in a good mood tomorrow.”

“But you’re never in a good mood,” Yong Soo shot back.

“And why do you think that is?” Sang Kyu asked sardonically, the words bitter.

Yong Soo knew the answer to this as well. Without the sleep pills, Yong Soo, too, would be kept awake by the flashes of the many lives he could no longer feel, the disembodied voices of citizens that were his, but weren’t, the intense magnetic pull of a part of his country he would never be able to reach. It tugged at the empty part of him whenever he found himself in a moment of quiet, but never more than when he was alone in the dark, trying to get sleep to lift him away into the darkness. It was a problem uniquely theirs, and Yong Soo was quite possibly the only person who understood enough to be sympathetic.

Some part of him wanted to curse Sang Kyu to that misery tonight, but at the same time, having to deal with a North Korea cranky from jet lag and lack of sleep in the morning would be far worse than swallowing a small bit of pride tonight.

Yong Soo glowered at Sang Kyu from behind the door, but after moment, he finally said, “What’s the magic word?”

“South, just give me the damn pills.”

“I want to hear you say it!”

“South!”

“That’s not it. Try again!”

Sang Kyu gritted his teeth, clearly weighing the options in his head. Suck up some pride, or suffer through the insomnia? Finally, he bit back whatever insult he’d been working up and looked at Yong Soo with a begrudging look of defeat.

“Please,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Yong Soo to hear.

Well, Yong Soo doubted he’d be able to get him to say it a second time, so he decided it was good enough. He had better things to do than stand in the doorway all night trying to get Sang Kyu to beg him. Like sleep. He slipped back behind the door for a moment, grabbed the bottle of pills, then returned to the doorway and shoved it at Sang Kyu.

“Goodnight,” he jeered, only realizing what a grave mistake he’d made after the door was shut.

Damn it. He hadn’t even taken his own dose yet, but in his haste to be rid of his disowned brother he’d given him the whole bottle. He didn’t have a spare. If he didn’t get it back, he’d spend every night this week tossing and turning.

Sheepishly, he returned to the door and opened it a crack. It had been less than a minute, so Sang Kyu had not made it far down the hall. The sound of the door opening caused him to turn and look over his shoulder.

Yong Soo glared at him for a moment before calling after him, his wavering voice betraying his embarrassment.

“So, you know I’m not giving you the whole bottle right? Take what you need and give it back.”

To his dismay, Sang Kyu seemed to pick up right away on the fact that giving him the whole bottle had been a mistake. He glanced at the bottle label, then looked up at Yong Soo with a wry smile.

“And what if I don’t?”

Yong Soo wracked his brain for a good threat, but came up empty handed. The best response he had was the one Sang Kyu had given him before.

“You said we should both be in a good mood tomorrow.”

“You seem to manage to be in an annoyingly good mood even without sleep.”

“Stealing my stuff is going to put me in a great mood, North!” Yong Soo said, his voiced edged with sarcasm.

“I didn’t steal it. You gave it to me,” Sang Kyu pointed out, holding up the bottle smugly.

Yong Soo seethed quietly, but could come up with no good reply that might make his stupid brother want to give back the bottle.

Except...

“Give it back and I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow,” he muttered after a long moment, knowing his brother rarely turned down an offer of free food.

This did seem to pique Sang Kyu’s interest, as he took a step toward Yong Soo as if to accept the offer before quickly pulling back. “How do I know you’ll uphold that promise if I give it back now?”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks and you can buy it yourself,” Yong Soo replied bitterly, hating himself for now giving his brother much more in one night than he had ever intended.

Sang Kyu seemed to consider this for a moment, then decided it was good enough.

“Fine,” he said, and began to make his way back toward the room. Yong Soo left the door ajar, an unspoken invitation to enter for a minute while he searched for his wallet.

Sang Kyu quickly made himself at home on the bed, settling down to read the label of the bottle.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Yong Soo grunted as he bent down to look through his backpack for the wallet.

“Then hurry up,” Sang Kyu retorted, eyeing Yong Soo as he opened pocket after pocket, and what should have been a quick search began to drag on.

“You’re lucky America even let you into the country,” Yong Soo replied distractedly, as he checked yet another pocket of his backpack.

Surely he hadn’t actually lost his wallet, right? He was sure he’d had it when he’d arrived. The most logical place for it to be was his backpack, since that was where he’d kept it for most of the flight. But several minutes of searching every pocket turned up nothing, so he moved on to his suitcase, thinking maybe he’d tossed it in there after arriving.

Behind him, he heard the jostling of pills against the sides of the bottle as Sang Kyu counted out a week’s worth. It seemed unlikely that Sang Kyu would have been able to find and steal his wallet in the few minutes he’d been in the room without Yong Soo noticing, but the frantic beating of his heart as he grew more desperate in his search left him looking for someone to blame.

“I told you stealing my stuff would put me in a bad mood,” Yong Soo said, turning to throw an accusing glare in Sang Kyu’s direction.

“Don’t blame me for you not keeping track of your things,” Sang Kyu replied, throwing his hands behind his head lazily.

“Give it back,” Yong Soo said flatly.

“I didn’t take your damn wallet,” Sang Kyu said defensively. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Despite wanting to believe that Sang Kyu had somehow stolen his wallet, the better part of Yong Soo knew he couldn’t have. Indeed, he’d been on the bed the whole time. Yong Soo kept looking, and finally had a thought to check the pocket of the pants he’d been wearing earlier, and there it was at last. He opened the wallet, pulled out a fresh twenty that he’d gotten at the exchange counter in the airport, and turned to hand it to Sang Kyu.

But Sang Kyu, who must have grown bored and taken one of the pills while he was waiting, was already asleep, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling softly.

Yong Soo sighed in annoyance. After going through brand after brand of pills and growing immune to all of them, the doctor had moved him up to something stronger. They worked fast, and he knew that trying to wake Sang Kyu up now would just result in him dragging a half-asleep North back to his room. It was more trouble than it was worth.

“I guess you can stay,” Yong Soo grumbled, tired enough now that he was just happy to not have to argue anymore.

He scooped up the stray pills lying next to Sang Kyu’s hand and moved them to the nightstand. The pill bottle, now unguarded, was quickly returned to the bathroom counter. Should he still give him the money? Well, a deal was a deal, and he had a funny suspicion that if he didn’t, Sang Kyu would hold him to it in some way regardless. So, Yong Soo pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and left it on the nightstand next to the pills, then slipped his wallet back into his backpack where it belonged.

A few minutes later, he’d stripped down to his boxers and was trying to slip under the covers without disturbing Sang Kyu, who had fallen asleep on top, when he realized he still hadn’t taken his own dose of the sleep medication. He could try to reach across his brother and grab a pill off the nightstand, but then again…

He was surprised to find that he felt tired enough on his own, sleep already trying to pull him down into the darkness. The voices weren’t there. The flashes of lives across the border had not yet begun to dance in front of his lidded eyes. And most noticeably, the tug toward the part of his country he could never reach—

Was absent.

Presumably because, well, with Sang Kyu a mere foot away, he could reach it.

Yong Soo pulled the covers up to his chin and wrapped them as snugly around himself as he could without disturbing his brother, then turned so that he was facing away from him. It shouldn’t be like this, and the insomnia was the world’s way of telling them so.

The next conscious thought to enter Yong Soo’s mind was that it was far too bright, and he opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep, much less that he’d actually slept through the night without medication.

Sometime during the night, he’d rolled over so that he was facing Sang Kyu, who had rolled so that his back was to Yong Soo. He looked to still be sleeping soundly, and in the warmth and comfort of this rare, peaceful moment, Yong Soo had a thought—

Could he do it without waking his brother? Even if he did wake, Yong Soo could always pretend he’d done it in his sleep, and Sang Kyu would be none the wiser. Slowly, he draped one arm over the other and pulled himself closer, so that the action resembled the closest thing to a loving embrace they’d had together in decades. With a sigh, Yong Soo pressed his forehead into the back of Sang Kyu’s neck, and for a moment they were still, just the rhythmic cycle of their breathing and now synced heartbeats. They could have been kids again, huddled close in their bed and sleeping in late until the sunlight caused the room to grow uncomfortably warm in the humid Korean summer. Sang Kyu never had to know, and that was the worst part of it all—that such a moment could now only be possible if one or the other of them were unconscious.

“I hate what’s become of us,” Yong Soo murmured, letting his eyes drift shut once more.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually Yong Soo looked up to see what time it was.

“Oh, shi—”

Well, it was nice having a brotherly moment with Sang Kyu, but all good things must come to an end. Yong Soo planted his hands on Sang Kyu’s back and, with a rough shove, pushed him over the edge of the bed, where he landed on the floor with a satisfying thud and awoke with a very unsatisfied grunt.

“Get up, lazy!” Yong Soo said, leaping out of bed and tearing through his suitcase for proper meeting clothes. “Our meeting starts in ten minutes!”

“Was that necessary?” Sang Kyu growled, his head poking up from behind the bed to glare rather weakly at Yong Soo. It was much harder, Yong Soo noticed, for his brother to look angry when well-rested.

“Yes!” Yong Soo grinned back, pulling on his shirt. “Because unless you want to be late, you still have to go back to your room and get dressed!”

“Whatever,” Sang Kyu said, still trying to look angry, though the look on his face came off as merely annoyed, and perhaps some part amused. “I’ll just be late.”

“Suit yourself,” Yong Soo said, by now tucking his shirt into his pants and throwing a belt through the loops.

Sang Kyu simply rolled his eyes and grabbed his things off the night stand. Without another word, he left, the door swinging shut behind him. Yong Soo could only hope he hadn’t actually been awake to notice what Yong Soo had done or what he’d said.

Nearly twenty minutes later, after Yong Soo had already seated himself in the meeting room with the likes of Russia, China, America, and Japan, North finally saw fit to join them. Though Yong Soo had already noticed that Sang Kyu seemed better rested, it was much more apparent now in the even lighting of the meeting room, the dark circles under his eyes significantly less prominent than they’d been the night before.

“Geez, you took your sweet time this morning, didn’t you?” Alfred complained, his eyes following Sang Kyu as he took his seat between Ivan and Yao. “Do you want to discuss the damn nukes or not?”

“Oh, yes,” Sang Kyu assured him, nonchalantly pulling a file from his briefcase without looking at Alfred. “I can’t wait to listen to you berate me for an hour.”

Beside him, Ivan gave a lighthearted snort.

Alfred seemed much less amused. “Only about forty minutes at this rate,” he muttered. Sang Kyu merely grinned back slyly, causing Alfred to frown and direct his attention to Yao instead, who was assumed to be in charge on Sang Kyu’s side of the table. “Well, where do you want to start?”

“How about ‘hello,’ or ‘good morning?’” Sang Kyu suggested before Yao could even say a word.

“The rest of us did that while we were waiting for you,” Alfred informed Sang Kyu haughtily.

“Enough,” Yao broke in, raising a hand to silence Sang Kyu, who was clearly gearing up for another retort, and glaring hotly at Alfred, who looked ready to leap across the table. “Good morning, North. Good morning, everyone. I think we all know why we’re here. Since America was so kind as to let me begin, why don’t we start with my proposal from last time?”

Next to Yong Soo, Alfred slowly sank back down into his seat, still glaring daggers at Sang Kyu, who returned his look with a smirk.

When Alfred finally looked away, Sang Kyu’s eyes fell instead on Yong Soo, who must have been staring at him with something like amazement. His brother simply rolled his eyes and smiled knowingly before looking away once more, as if the night before had never happened. Yong Soo couldn’t help but smile a little himself. It was a rare day indeed when North Korea was in a better mood than America.

[writingblankspaces]

Shutterbug (Part 1)

Yoonmin 

PG-13 

1,502 Words 

College senior Min Yoongi has been interested in photography since he was a kid. For some reason, he didn’t take Photography 1004 until his last semester in college through an elective class. So concentrated on his other classes, he didn’t notice he was failing and that the professor hated him (and his pictures) until midterms. 

One day when he’s taking pictures for his final project, he runs across Park Jimin. 

Who happens to be in the way of him and the cherry blossom tree he’s trying to photograph.

The first time Yoongi took a picture of Park Jimin, it was purely by accident. 

Sitting in the grass with a large dog that’d wandered away from its owner, his soft pink hair blended in with the petals of the cherry blossom tree that’d been Yoongi’s initial focus. 

Right in his way, the visibly younger man cuddled the overzealous golden retriever and murmured in his baby talk that made Yoongi’s stomach turn. He’d momentarily felt bad for even considering to ask him to move since the boy had been there first, but after hearing him screech at the canine, his resolve hardened. 

This picture was going to be the one that finally impressed his photography professor and earned him the grade he deserved. 

An A. 

He couldn’t accept anything less when he knew that the quality of his work had been top-notch all year, yet Professor Kim insisted of low-balling his grades with comments like ‘messy composition’ or ‘poor lighting.’ 

With his camera in hand, he strode over to the man and eyed him, then cleared his throat. 

“I’m trying to take a picture, and I was wonder—” the boy cut him off “if you could take a picture of me? Sure.” As he spoke, the dog huffed at the lost attention and got up, trotting back across the yard to an aggravated looking blonde. 

Silence fell between them, and Yoongi felt his eye twitch before he stifled a snort and ran his hand through his black hair “actually, I just want you to move out my way.”

The boy’s cheeks went red as he pressed his lips together in embarrassment. 

He rose to his feet with a huff similar to the dog’s and eyed Yoongi before he picked up his backpack and headed in the direction of the university center. 

Yoongi’s eyes lingered, and he read the words written on the guy’s bag, vaguely making out the Jimin Park written on the top in white cursive font.

As he sorted through the pictures on his SD card, deleting the ones he hated, Yoongi ran across the three pictures he’d taken with Park Jimin in them, and his finger hovered over the delete button for a few moments. 

For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to delete them. 

From a photography standpoint, the pictures were actually pretty good. 

Sure, the ones without Jimin were just as good, if not better, but the contrast of the bright sunlight, the dark blonde coat of the dog, Jimin’s smile and his pink hair made the pictures beautiful in a strange way. 

Out of curiosity, he put the best of the three in his folder for his final and closed his laptop for the day, already feeling the pull of sleep. 

“And here we have the adult male koala named Yoongi. Don’t make any loud sounds as he rests.” Yoongi had been right in the midst of a phenomenal nap when his roommate, Kim Seokjin, walked in with his boyfriend. 

While Seokjin knew he could be easily awakened and therefore moved quietly around their shared apartment, his boyfriend of nearly two years, Kim Namjoon, hadn’t gotten the memo. All heavy footsteps and voice like he was at a football game, he could be the bane of Yoongi’s existence as a lover of peace and quiet. 

“Why the fuck does he always have to walk so loudly,” Yoongi hissed as he poked his head out his covers. He’d fallen asleep with his door open, so Seokjin and Namjoon were standing in the threshold laughing at him. 

“It’s three in the afternoon Yoongi,” Namjoon rasped, his deep voice bouncing off the walls of Yoongi’s room. 

Literally, everything about him was loud.

Everything.

“I don’t care if it was 12 o’clock in the afternoon. It’s my room, and I have the right to peaceful nap without you stomping around.” Instead of being afraid of Yoongi as most people were, Namjoon just laughed harder. 

Once he finished laughing, Seokjin tugged on his arm, and after shutting Yoongi’s door, they trudged down the hall to Seokjin’s room, probably to have sex.

Yoongi looked up at the ceiling and inwardly cursed before he reluctantly climbed out the warmth of his bed, put on his hoodie and grabbed his phone and camera. 

Just like Namjoon was loud in normal circumstances, Seokjin was loud in sexual ones. But hey, aside from that, Seokjin loved to cook and kept a spotless apartment, so Yoongi tried not to complain too much. 

Since their apartment was technically on campus, whenever Seokjin brought Namjoon over for sex, Yoongi usually found himself wandering around in search of things to photograph.

With the weather less cold and the sun setting later, he’d lucked upon quite a few pictures as of late. He hoped he could continue his streak of good luck. 

After wandering around for an hour, snapping a few pictures here or there, he ended up at the campus coffee shop to warm himself. He’d only been inside for three minutes, looking at the pictures he’d taken through the viewfinder when he heard a small groan. 

“Oh, it’s you again,” a disappoint voice sighed after the initial grumble. When Yoongi looked up, he let out a humorless laugh.  

Who else was standing in front of him but Park Jimin?

Despite knowing his name from his bag, Yoongi pretended to be oblivious “ah yes. You’re dog boy from the quad right? The one that was in my way.” Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and he scoffed before he started to gather his stuff to move elsewhere. 

Against Yoongi’s better judgment, he reached for the edge of Jimin’s oversized hood and pulled lightly “listen kid, I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve just been obsessed with gettin the perfect picture for my photography final. It wasn’t anything personal.” The annoyance in Jimin’s eyes softened, and he unpursed his lips—which, holy shit, were much plumper than he’d remembered. 

In fact, now that he was getting a good look at Jimin’s face, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel a wave of interest wash over him. 

Jimin wasn’t ugly. 

In fact, he was far from it and with his hair disheveled from the day, he held some semblance of attraction for Yoongi. 

Just the thought of being attracted to someone who looked so much younger made him balk in mild shock. 

“Well, you could’ve been a hell of a lot nicer about it,” now Jimin was pouting at him from the chair adjacent to where he’d been initially sitting. Yoongi was so amused by Jimin’s pouting that he reached in his bag for his camera and snapped a picture of it. 

“Whoa, who said you could photograph me,” Jimin seemed to be squinting at something, which Yoongi later realized was the luggage tag on his camera bag “Min Yoongi?” Jimin finished, his pout replaced with something more triumphant like he’d won a bet or fight just by gaining knowledge of Yoongi’s name.

Yoongi immediately went to defend himself but realized that Jimin was right. He was so used to taking pictures of inanimate objects, the rules that existed when taking pictures of people escaped him.

“Ah, forgive me Jimin,” just like that, the boy’s name slipped out, and Jimin seemed shocked that he knew his name. He didn’t let the awkwardness settle between them, pointing to Jimin’s backpack. 

Now they were even. They knew each other names. 

At least that was how it worked in Yoongi’s mind. But then again, Yoongi’s mind was a jumbled and dark place at best, so could he really trust his own thought process?

“I actually don’t mind. It’s kind of fun being photographed, especially since dance majors don’t get many opportunities to be in front of cameras sitting still.” Another piece of stray information. Yoongi only nodded and went to sit his camera back into his bag.

“You know, if you want,” Jimin stopped and the blush he’d been sporting earlier returned “if you wanted to, you could keep taking pictures of me.” Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice. 

Before Jimin could retract his statement, Yoongi had already taken nearly six pictures, admiring how the dim lighting in the coffee shop complimented the soft angles on Jimin’s face.

They sat there for almost an hour before Yoongi’s phone dinged with a text message telling him to come home for dinner. Seokjin knew he left when he and Namjoon were intimate, so to make up for it, he usually made one of Yoongi’s favorite meals as compensation. Tonight’s meal was homemade ramen complete with homemade broth and noodles. 

When Jimin expressed a mild interest in who was texting him, Yoongi felt obligated to tell him. 

“My roommate. He’s cooking homemade ramen, are you hungry? You know, as a thank you for letting me take pictures of you,” he stumbled over his words, but Jimin caught the gist and nodded, a big grin on his face. 

Yoongi would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip in his chest when he saw it. 

[gabrielxcarson]

Favors // self para

Gabriel thought the sound was a part of his dream, hoped and prayed it wasn’t actually happening, but it persisted. The same loud thud with the same three knocks with each cycle. Well, they weren’t proper knocks when whoever waited rather impatiently used their palm to slam into the door’s wood. Maybe if Gabe pulled the covers over his head further, the visitor would take the hint and leave him the hell alone. Or at least, have enough consideration to know that it was a little past the butt crack of dawn, Thankfully, Bellamy spent the night over at a friend’s, so he wouldn’t have a cranky eleven year old complaining about the interruption to his sleep schedule. It wasn’t Bell’s he was concerned over at this point. “Go away.” Gabe mumbled. Off days were rare for him and all the more so when those days were a weekend.

Still, the knocking did not let up. The first thought to pop in his head raised the suspicion of the emergency scenario or maybe it was only Boone coming to drag his ass out of bed for an important case. There were devices called cell phones, however, and it’s a better chance his partner would call or text rather than be the dick and show in person. Then again... “Fuck. I’m coming, I’m coming.” Gabriel practically rolled out of bed and groaned as his feet landed on soft carpet, stopping for a moment to unsuccessfully smooth down his hair in the dresser’s mirror and making his way to the foyer. He worked on unlatching each lock slowly. From the way he saw it, it’s sweet revenge making Boone wait for waking him up to begin with if he was responsible. It was when Gabe opened the door half-expecting to chew out his friend did the proverbial slap in the face stop him with a cold boiling fury spreading throughout his entire body.

“Well, hey, kiddo.” It wasn’t Boone. It wasn’t another co-worker dragging him from the free day for a case. God, who was Gabriel fucking kidding? He would rather sacrifice a million off days for the entirety of his career if it meant he would never have this moment seeing Noah Carson standing on the other side of his door. He watched his father give him the same permanent damn smirk that didn’t disappear. Despite the freezing winter weather, Noah only wore a tank underneath the long-sleeved plaid shirt in which Gabe could see the small square outline of the cigarette pack in his front breast pocket. “Got tall on me, didn’t you?”

Gabe immediately moved to slam the one thing preventing the conversation from happening closed before his father swiftly wedged his foot between the small space of the doorframe and pushed it open a little too forcibly. The younger Carson possessed the means to protect himself and send any unwanted intruders running for the hills, but the only solution dealing with a man like his father was stepping back and letting it happen. “Now, is that any way to say hi to your dad?” Noah crossed the threshold of his boy’s apartment, taking in the jammed quarters with a mischievous glint to his eye. Gabe made out well for himself, but no one ever pegged Noah Carson himself for the lovely dovey father figure glowing with pride for a son who couldn’t handle a few nights on his own and simply ran. And not only did he run, the little shit took Noah’s five month old baby with him. “Where’s your brother?”

“Not here.” The answer was short, annoyance clearly not an issue Gabe bothered hiding. It was the best decision he ever did, letting his brother stay at a someone else’s house. He didn’t need to be here for this.

“Damn, was hoping to see who he turned out looking more like. He’s got to be, what? Pushing the teen years?” Noah’s gaze flitted to his son who took a few steps to the side like he was scared shitless he’d catch a disease standing too close to the father who disappointed him before curiously scanning the room. Invading personal space wasn’t a problem he had, however. “I have to say, Gabriel, I thought you’d be doing a lot better than all of...this.” He lazily swept his hand toward the somewhat cramped space that was the main living room. “You sure were arrogant enough to pretend taking Bellamy gave him the better life.”

“What do you want, Dad?” Gabriel snapped at him, “You’re one to talk about giving your kids a better life, so what the hell are you doing here?” The man folded his arms across his chest firmly, “Is it money?” That was the real sad truth about Gabe’s reality involving his father. The only reason he could possibly find as most likely were financial troubles. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if the visit presented itself as Noah knocking on the door with an open hand. Gabriel didn’t necessarily believe the Carson household was a dirt poor one, despite his parents throwing away their money on alcohol and drugs, but it’s already been over a decade. With the path they were heading down, it could’ve been likely they were in debt. “And don’t...don’t spoon feed me bullshit.”

“You think that little of me I would think myself desperate enough to come to you for cash? Always assuming it’s about you, isn’t it?” Noah released a scoff and used the edge of his thumb to rub at the lower half of his lip. “I heard you were running with the donut pigs nowadays. Well-respected around these parts, wearing blue, with the badge and everything. Ain’t that some ironic shit.” He reached for the cigarettes in his pocket before changing his mind judging by the glare of daggers Gabe would likely shoot in his general direction. Might as well come out with it. “Your mother lost her touch, Gabriel. She got caught snorting something she probably shouldn’t be and had her ass thrown in jail.”

“Okay.” Now, Gabe didn’t exactly appreciate the stereotype his father cast on his job and the courageous cops he worked with, but that wasn’t the important matter at hand. So, what, his mom is spending maybe more than a night in a cell for drug possession and his father thought to come all the way here and tell him? “What does that have to do with me?”

“I told you,” Noah shiftlessly turned on his heel and completely faced the other, “You’re a well-respected man about town with your police cruiser and macho protective civic duty. We weren’t speaking for the last decade, boy, doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes or listen to the gossip. You have an in with the right people, a...” He waved his hands a little, pausing to find the right words, “An authority. Maybe you could go down to the station, talk to your partner, whoever arrested her, and put a good word in. Maybe use some of that intimating strength I know you have somewhere.”

Gabriel stared, simply dumbfounded by the explanation. Annie getting arrested and charged with something, he could certainly believe, but this was absurd. No, no, on second thought, why should it have a shock value when it’s the type of shit he expected from the shittier parent? “So, let me get this straight,” He spoke slowly, “You come all the way here, knocking on my door after ten long years and interrupting one of the once in a blue moon days I’m off from an over forty hours a week job, begging to spring your piss poor excuse of a drug addled wife from a cell she should’ve been in years ago? What made you possibly think I would ever grant you a favor as if I owed you anything?” Gabe release a scoff, shaking his head. “No. You get the same I got from you for all those years. Nothing.”

“You want to talk about who owing who here.” Noah’s response fled from his lips in a small growl, “You left home without so much as a word. No note, just two cleaned out rooms and a fucking empty crib. You think you had it so bad, Gabriel? I never once hit you, did I? Never slapped you or your mother around, instead, you’re the one punishing us for going out there and having a great time.” Noah held the expectations at a low enough standard to figure Gabe wouldn’t go for bribing the police, but his sheer disappointment was real. “Because of that, I have every right to ask this of you just as much as it’s a right for me to know Bellamy. He’s my son.”

“And he’s my brother. Did you raise him? Did you soothe every temper tantrum, change every diaper, scrap the bottom of your own goddamn bank account to keep a roof over his head?” Gabe snapped back furiously, “You still don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter if you didn’t raise a hand to me, the damage you inflicted was never physical. I made my own breakfast, I packed my own lunch, I made my dinner, I cooked, I cleaned, and I went to bed to an empty house.” The more Gabe listed, the louder his tone increased. “Then you had Bellamy and I had to skip school to take care of him because you never gave me the money to hire a sitter. I rarely saw you and Mom and when I did early in the morning hours, I was the one tucking you guys in.” Gabe pressed his lips tightly together and breathed out a rush of air through his nostrils. “The silence I endured in that house would drive anyone insane from the loneliness, but I endured nonetheless without your help. You lost the right to ask shit of me and call yourself my father.”

“You done?” Noah’s inability to hold off on the sarcastic reply after a long pause for silence hadn’t disappeared despite the serious confession plaguing his kid. Never one for softness, he could see why Gabe left home because of it. “I admit, it’s hard being the dad when the only thing your grandpa taught me was how to use the hard end of a belt. Fuck, even that’s not a good excuse, but your mom and I didn’t do that swell of a job taking care of you. I get it, you’re pissed at us and I sure can’t fucking change it. We liked our fun, indulged every now and then. That’s who we are, Gabriel, that’s how we bonded. However, you love forgetting this little fact,” He jutted a finger at Gabe, “We still came home.”

“At the rate you two were headed, you shouldn’t have come home at all. I wish you didn’t.” Gabriel could feel his feet carrying him towards the door and turning the knob before swinging it open. His body instinctively knew what he wanted even when his mind took a moment to catch up. “I want you to leave. Don’t come back here favors or otherwise, don’t contact me, and if I ever hear you went near Bellamy, I’m filing a restraining order. That’s a promise.”

“And I promise you, Gabriel, I’m not going anywhere.” Spoken under different circumstances by a different man perhaps imploring the forgiveness of his child, it would have been a true promise carrying comfort, but from Noah, there was an underlying threat to his words. “A real man doesn’t run from his problems. I know you’re spreading lies about us to him, so why don’t you tell your little brother the truth, or I might just let it slip myself.” Noah walked straight for the door, throwing out the comment as he passed, “Maybe you’ll know exactly how it feels playing the horrible father. Remember that.”

Gabriel forgone taking the bait and refraining from handing over any reply his father could have used for ammunition, instead, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it with a long breath of what he imagined was his first since Noah’s reappearance. Ten years’ work of forgetting his parents ever existed undone by a visit that lasted a total of ten minutes. He wasn’t about to take Noah’s words lightly either. It’s a matter of time before his father approached Bellamy, introduced himself, likely twist why he and their mother wasn’t around to his own favor. Gabriel thought he had years to spill the secret. 

Now, he just had days.