#And despite being 18 her parents have never let her have a cell phone or regular internet usage until now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, under the influence, self hatred, complicated family relationships, depersonalisation/derealisation, depression, alternative universe, implications of su-cide, semi su-cide attempt, su-cidal!reader, mentions of bl-od and injury, mentions of k-dnapping and murder, alcoholism, mentions of selfh-rm, mentions of knifes, gaslighting, smoking, mentions of weapons, mentions of pregnancies, a bunch of crying, fainting, toxic masculinity.

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; piv, protected sex (use of condom), missionary, dry humping, nicknames, sex in semi-public place, fingering, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum,,,, other then that it’s kinda vanilla.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 14.3 k

O N E ｜ T W O

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[FEEL SOMETHING DIFFERENT - Bea Miller, Aminè]

[Multi-Love - Unknown Mortal Orchestra]

[Beach Baby - Bon Iver]

[High Enough - K.Flay]

[Dope Lovers - DPR IAN]

[Make Out in My Car ; Sufjan Stevens Version - Sufjan Stevens]

[I Feel it Coming ; The weekend, Daft Punk]

[Space Song ; Beach House] (ah the loml and the album is called depression cherry so it makes me happy)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 ; 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

“Let me out!! LET ME OUT!”

You cry out, banging on the heavy wooden door until your knuckles bruise, red marks leaving their traces on your soft skin. The only lightsource is the tiny cell window, sun shining brightly and illuminating thousands of dust specks, floating around you like your lost hopes. The grey cement walls got closer and closer, seconds ticking in your head like a clock.

This is it.

This is how you die.

Crushed to death like a bug, your ambitions never getting their chance to prove themselves. All that you ever wanted to achieve was an impossibility as you were slowly but surely pressed together in the ever shrinking room.

Salty tears roll down your cheek, a feeling of hopelessness washing over you as you turn your back against the door, sliding down to your feet, banging the back of your head lightly against the entrance.

You feel the rough walls hitting both sides of your forearms, a last ear deafening scream leaving your parted lips.

Until you woke up.

With a series of jerking motions you sit up, panting like you just ran a marathon, the pounding of your heart audible to you. Darkness swallowed you as the night progressed, you considering yourself lucky to find yourself in your comfortable bed, still in your room.

Only after minutes do you notice your wet cheeks, the tears not being limited to your dream world. You blink, your coated eyelashes weighing heavy on your eyelids as you wipe tears with the back of your hand. The shock from your dream didn’t reside, you now being too afraid to fall back on your plushy pillow, fearful of what horrible dreams awaited you on the other side.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, immediately being hit with a bright light causing you to squint and turn away momentarily.

[Search: being crushed dream meaning]

Multiple articles from all sorts of sketchy websites popped up, you clicking on the first one.

“Stress or emotionally overwhelmed”

You laugh lazily, the dream making sense as you feel yourself slipping back into a peaceful slumber, phone still in hand as the muscles in your face relax, jaw opening, your dream world once again inviting you for a dance.

The sun woke you up with it’s radiant rays shining in your face, the closed blinds barely able to withstand them. Your phone was lying on the floor face down, you must have dropped it while sleeping you thought before rubbing your eyes from any dirt and staring up at the ceiling.

Another day

Another day that I’m here.

You wish you could pull the covers over your head, get lost in your own mind and never deal with the outside world ever again. But you had to.

You picked up your phone from the dusty floor that hadn’t been cleaned for weeks, you simply didn’t have the motivation to do it. The bright phone screen awaked you, you blinked your eyes a couple of times to see clearer.

[3 Missed Calls - Mom]

You couldn’t be bothered to call her back. She was only gonna nag at you for not calling back earlier, wondering what you’ve been up to now that you’ve been fired from your job as a receptionist at the local hotel. What were you gonna say? Drinking too much booze and crying yourself to sleep every night? You couldn’t, that would only hurt her.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

You got up, legs wobbling as you stumbled to the bathroom, head pounding from the amount of alcohol you consumed the night prior. Not with friends but alone, in your living room, in the one room apartment you no longer could afford.

Ice cold water splashed onto your sweaty face, that being the only hygiene you could muster today. You turned the tap off, grabbing a towel and wiping your face and looking deep into your own eyes.

That’s not me.

That’s not me looking back.

You poked your tongue out, hoping the figure in the mirror wouldn’t move and you could confirm your thoughts but alas the figure followed you. You felt crazy, it was as if you’ve died a long time ago but still saw everything that happened. You could stick your hand through a wall and it would disappear you thought, nothing was real. Not even you.

You entered your mess of a living room, seeing the wreck from yesterday night. Countless green glass bottles scattered on the table in front of the tv that was your only escape from reality. Blankets and pillows were thrown across the floor along with a box of tissues, your emotions bubbling up to the surface too often resulting in you crying and shaking on the floor, a feeling of fear washing over you late at night.

You felt alone.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, why were you so ungrateful? You had everything. A roof over your head, a family that loves you, friends, food on the table. Yet, even this couldn’t satisfy you. You blamed yourself for everything.

For your work firing you.

For your parents divorcing.

For your own pathetic life.

You shook your head as if you were shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, instead grabbing a couple of the empty bottles that were reeking with the scent of liquor and placing them on the kitchen counter. ‘Cleaning up’ in your eyes.

With a thump your back landed against the couch that swallowed you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace you got from no other person or object. This was your safe space you thought but not even your couch could save you from your intrusive reasonings. With a light click on the remote the tv screen lit up, your eyes still not used to the brightness since you’re always cooped up in your apartment where the blinds were always closed, another barrier between you and reality.

Nature documentaries, your favorite.

The calming male voice of the narrator being the only one you talked to during your lonely days. The animals could make you forget. They lived so freely, moving wherever they wanted without a care in the world, either swimming, hopping or flying. You wish you were born as another animal than human.

“The 52-hertz whale travels an astonishing 70 km a day but it’s voyage doesn’t bring social interactions. This whale is the loneliest whale in the world. It’s the only whale that is capable of emitting a whale call at such frequency, no other individuals communicating with the poor creature.”

You sat up in curiosity. It was a scream for help you thought. The whale needed help, it needed someone or something.

Just like you.

You sighed, watching the lonely whale on your tv screen, seeing it’s gracious movements despite its size. It did look lonely in that deep dark sea, wondering how it would be to fall into the abyss of water, swallowing you whole and erasing the life that once sparked your soul.

This was where you spent your entire days. The clock on the wall is ticking but the digits it displayed are oblivious to you. What did it matter if it was 5 pm or 1 am? You were still not gonna budge from your comforting seat on the couch. Drinking your feelings away no matter what time in the day.

This was you.

This was who you had become.

The sun started to set on the horizon, a delicate shade of light purple descending over it, covering the end of the world like the way a canopy covers the softness of a bed. You sigh, diverting your focus back on the tv screen after momentarily observing the life outside your window. Yet again, nature documentaries accompanied by the soft male voice, narrating every movement of the colibri that fluttered it’s wings at the speed of light on your screen in vivid colors.

You got that look in your eyes. That look of amazement which you now only had when looking at the beautiful colors of a exotic bird. You moved closer to the tv screen in the now dark living room, the sun setting at a fast pace. It reminded you of the many times your mom shouted at you to not sit so close to the screen, scaring you by saying that you’d get rectangular eyes.

Your childhood.

The only time you felt ease.

The only time your family was as one.

“y/n, what does your heart look like?” the therapist asked, scribbling mindlessly on a notepad.

“it’s a muscle that pumps blo-” you started but were quickly cut off.

“no, I mean what does your heart look like, how does it feel?”

You sighed, looking down at the grey marbled floor, your legs shaking in nervousness. You hesitated before speaking, scrambling in your mind to say something sensible before the words came pouring out of you.

“i-it looks like a house. A dark, empty house,,, but it’s comforting.”

Once again you heard the sound of a pencil writing incoherent sentences. Curious as to know what secrets were on that piece of A5-paper.

“is there anyone in the house with you?” the therapist inquired.

You shook your head before speaking.

“I don’t want to let anyone in, this is my safe space” you say, almost setting up an emotional barrier, not wanting to answer further questions.

The person sitting across from you hummed as you stared out the window behind them, the green ivy bushes already grown tall enough to cover half of the grimy window.

“is the house empty?” they asked to which you shook your head once again, avoiding the glassy-eyed stare of the therapist.

“no,,, there are dusty furniture covered in white cloths and-,,, and family photos in the drawers.”

“is it your family?”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“How did you end up here?”

You thought for a second, puffing out your cheeks, a habit of yours. You searched for a reason but not finding any.

“I just,,, was here one day.”

“The sun never shines here.” you added after a solid 30 seconds of silence.

You were stuck in that house.

The house that was once filled with happy memories of another family, you simply a ghost that was now trying to fit the broken pieces together, wanting desperately to see them smiling again.

Tears started forming in your eyes, a shiny gloss over your orbs.

But you never cried.

Not in front of others.

You thought often about that visit. Why your heart was an desolate house and why the words spilled out of you like a poisonous liquid.

You closed your eyes, the bright colors fluttering behind your eyelids as the comforting sounds of the woods blasted from the tv.

You wish you could be somewhere else.

Anywhere but here.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile creeped up on your face, your butt against the floor as your knees were underneath your chin, your entire figure curled up into a small ball.

You sighed as your eyes fluttered open again. You were still here, in your apartment that smelled like nothing but alcohol and disappointment.

Firmly planting both your hands on the wooden floor you heaved yourself up with the intention of getting more tissues, the blue colored tissue box on the floor being as empty as others expectations of you.

But as you stood up the entire room started spinning, small specks of rainbow flashing by your eyes. You thought you stood up to quickly grabbing onto the wall for a second before collapsing against it, your entire body shaking. You cried louder, thinking you were about to pass out. Your hair stuck to your tear stained cheek as your puffy eyes closed once again.

What was happening?

The rain hit your unconscious body, your knees scraped from the concrete you lied on. You were soaked from head to toe, lying with your cheek against the ground in a puddle of rain. You woke up from your head pounding, your bloody knees only gaining your attention after you’ve looked around in a confused daze.

It was empty. An alleyway in the dark night. You found yourself panicked, anxiety bubbling inside of you. That’s when you saw it. A single street light above a red phone booth. You tried to stand up but fell over again as your legs could barely hold you up, now scraping your elbow against the gritty ground.

Crying out, you started shouting for help.

“HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs, voice cracking as your tears started to look identical to the rain that was pouring over your cold, helpless body. Nobody came, your voice only echoing against the wall that the phone booth stood near to.

You got on all fours, crawling towards the light as pure pain shot through your body, small pebbles jabbing into the open wounds on your knees. You needed shield from the rain. Desperate huffs and groans escaping your parted lips as you dragged yourself through small puddles, the phonebooth seemingly getting further and further away from you. Looking through the soaked curtains that was your hair you were determined, this was life or death you thought as you continued to shout out for help, it appeared to be useless since the only other sound besides your own voice was the rain hitting the ground.

Shivering hands grabbed onto the corner of the crimson red phonebooth, the streetlight illuminating your teary eyes. You held onto that frigid and wet piece of metal as if you were holding onto a treasure.

As if you won a race.

As if you pleased your parents.

You looked up, dragging the inner side of your leg against the concrete, your pyjama pants wet to the bone. Desperately you got yourself together, your arms shaking as the rough pads of your hands met the ground, pushing yourself up into a standing position. You hissed at the pain in your knees as you grabbed onto the metal handle that opened the phonebooth, stepping inside.

The inside was surprisingly warm, as if someone had been there moments prior. A ripped piece of paper was taped on the glass pane to the right of the payphone, something that seemed like a phone number but could impossibly be since it wasn’t a full number.

[1800-xxx]

You looked at the payphone and then back at the washed out paper, the edges of the note curling and stained with yellow. Only when you looked back at the phone again did you notice the keypad. To your surprise there was an “x” button. Your head felt heavy, deciding to lean it against the other side of the stuffy phone booth, your hot breath creating steam on the glass.

You wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Your entire body ached, let alone the blood that was dripping down your leg. The rusty payphone connected to the actual phone, a black handle connected to the underside of the machinery by a coiled metal rope. You picked up the phone, putting it against your ear and groaned when you remembered that you needed coins in order for the payphone to work

[0.5 gold/minute]

You rubbed your eyes. Gold? You sighed loudly, your knees barely being able to hold your weary body any longer. Hesitant fingers pressed the number that was jot down on the lined note, pressing each key accordingly. You pressed the last x before you pressed the “call” button, not expecting anything to happen.

But after a few seconds a female automated voice spoke to you.

“Thank you for calling. This place only appears to the suffering. If you are receiving this call, congratulations! Your prayers have been answered. Drink the liquid in the paper cup above this payphone. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice lagged, a static sound accompanying the automated voice. Your breath got shaky as you looked around, holding the phone close to your ear with both hands. This could only be some sort of kidnapping scheme or this was a sick dream.

“It’s a dream, y/n. Calm down, nothing's gonna hurt you.”

You muttered to yourself, pinching your forearm tightly and wincing from pain. This wasn’t a dream after all.

Your gaze landed on the brown paper cup that was balancing delicately on top of the payphone, your cracking knuckles reaching for it as you let the phone fall out of your grasp, being caught mere inches from the sticky floor of the photobooth by the coil. Bringing the cup closer to your face you saw a dark viscous liquid that smelled sweet enough to sting your nose. Your face contorted into disgust, debating on whether not to drink the contents of the paper cup.

“Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice continued ringing in your ears. You had nothing to lose. If you died then you at least got what you wanted. Holding your breath, you brought the cup closer to your quivering lips, parting them slightly as you held your nose tightly, not wanting to feel whatever horrible taste could be found in that dark pit of goo.

It burned the moment it hit the delicate taste buds on your tongue, your voice muffled as the fluid descended down your throat, your larynx bobbing up and down with each gulp. Despite covering your nose you could taste the pungent sweetness, it tasted like pure acid. Not that you knew what that tasted like but what you assumed it would.

You coughed, accidentally spilling some of the goo on the floor, dribbling out of your mouth. The heavy rain pitter-pattered against the metal roof above your head, your eyelids threatening to shut. The cup fell out of your hand as you slammed your forehead against the payphone, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to bruise. Your jawbone hurt from how much you’d been crying, eyes puffy as the salty tears mixed with the rain droplets on your face.

“i-i’m sorry mom, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You rolled your forehead left to right against the rusty material of the payphone, your soaked hair covering your empty eyes. Your knees bent under you causing you to fall on your butt with your knees clinking against each other, the sticky contents on the floor sticking to the soft fabric of your pants.

“I’M SO SORRY!”

You never thought a scream this loud could protrude its way out of your throat, the vibrations bouncing off the glass that to your surprise didn’t break. Everything started to become shades darker, almost as if a black and white filter settled over your vision.

No, this is how you’re gonna die.

Alone.

In the rain.

“Hyung, what are you gonna do with her?”

Muffled club music struck your ear along with a high pitched ringing, your eyelids felt as heavy as they’d been in the phonebooth. With your head pounding you slowly open your eyes, first not seeing anything but darkness before eight unknown men form a circle around you, hovering above you.

You shoot up from your lying position, fear overtaking your body. Where were you but more importantly why the fuck were you alone in a dark room with 8 young men? Not thinking straight, you decided to scream once again, thinking they would back off and let you be.

“Get away from me!!”

The males covered their ears, groaning in pain and a blonde boy throwing himself on the floor, rolling around.

“HEY!! HEY! WE’RE NOT GONNA HURT YOU!”

A strong voice overpowered yours, every word almost sounding like a grunt. You around, seeing that you were sitting on a soft leather couch before looking up at the male that was standing right infront of you. He was muscular, his biceps sitting snugly in the tight black t-shirt that covered him, a grey apron tied around his waist and his dark hair shielding his intense gaze and furrowed eyebrows. He had a jaw so sharp you could cut silence with it but silence was the last thing this room had. The boys were shouting at each other, trying to hush the others while screaming themselves.

“SHUT UP!!”

The room got quiet as the muscular guy roared, the seven other individuals coming to a halt. You looked at them all with a puzzled expression, all of them handsome, a fact you couldn’t deny.

“Where the fuck am I, who are you guys and p-please don’t kill me”

Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence as your eyes twinkled, tears teasing the corners of your eyes, fingers shaking in fear. The male closest to you sat down, the weight of the couch shifting. He rubbed his hand together before he started speaking in a calmer voice.

“I’m Changbin, bartender of the Lost Souls nightclub. That’s Chan, security guard.”

With his chin, he pointed at a guy in ripped black jeans with a white t-shirt, a sweatband across his forehead, pushing his slightly curly hair back. He didn’t look like a security guard, the only thing that might have pointed to that was the walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. You nodded before Changbin continued.

“And those are some friends, frequent visitors if you will.”

A light haired boy with shiny rhinestones under his eyes stepped forward after he’d been hugging the tallest guy in the room the entire time.

“u-uhm, the name’s Felix! This is Hyunjin, Seungmin, Jeongin, Jisung and Minho, and yeah those two, Chan and Changbin.”

He pointed at each guy respectively and the room filled with small “hi’s” and smiles. They didn’t look threatening, all of them being very timid and looking down at the ground. Your gaze diverted back to Changbin that was staring at you the entire time.

“Can somebody tell me where I am?”

Changbin cleared his throat, stomping his boot a couple of times.

“This is gonna sound,,, interesting but you have to believe me-”

You interrupted the muscular boy, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that it had dried.

“Why should I believe you? We’ve just met?”

Changbin sighed.

“Just,,, hear me out”. You nodded before he continued.

“You answered a phone call right?”

Nodding once again your gaze drifted towards the other boys that were looking at Changbin with googly eyes.

“Well,,, this place only appears to those who are,,, struggling with themselves. Obviously you don’t have to tell us why you’re here but,,, this is a place to let go. The only rule here is no fighting”

“Or dancing on the tables” the tall blonde boy added with a snark causing a squirrel-like boy to giggle, playfully hitting the blonde before looking at Chan who glared back at him, the boy being flustered and turning serious again. Jisung, his name was.

“W-what did that phonebooth do,,, does everyone go through that?” you asked with a curious tone.

“Usually it’s a pleasant experience going in that phonebooth, the sun shining and people hanging around that alleyway before taking the phonecall and drinking the elixir,,, there must have been a glitch in the system.”

He sounded unsure, scratching the back of his head as he looked at all of the boys.

“System? What system? I’m dreaming, right?” you said in panic, wanting to get out of this oddly suffocating room.

“W-we are real and you’re not dreaming,,, it’s just that, we can’t meet in real life you know? This is a place to,,, let oneself go and I know it’s scary since you only get here randomly, it must have been hard passing out like that,,”

A boy with fluffy light brown hair and a pretty eye smile said, Seungmin! You remembered his name because you thought it fitted him, sounding both soft and sharp at the same time.

“y-yeah,,, it was scary b-but thank you for caring about me” you said with a half smile

“oh! and also, we treated all your wounds, luckily you were passed out so you couldn’t feel the pain but let me tell you,,, it looked awful, I don’t understand how you did that Chan” Jisung remarked with wide eyes, looking at you concerned before turning to Chan.

“Did what?” you inquired to which Jisung responded.

“Removing the pebbles in your wounds, h-how did you even get those in there?” he asked to which you tried to remember, seeing hazed memories of you crawling on the asphalt in the storming rain.

“I was crawling towards the phone booth'' you said quietly as the boys gazed at you with concern. The atmosphere got dusked and in an attempt to lift the mood you cleared your throat, lightly running your hands over the bandaids that were plastered on your scraped knees, wincing from the contact.

Changbin made eye contact with Chan, jerking his head towards the door to signal for him and the other boys to leave the room. Chan nodded and patted Jeongin on the shoulder, trying to scoot all the boys out of the room like a shepherd leading a bunch of silent sheep.

“Let’s have some fun! Drinks on me boys~” Chan exclaimed to get the boys off their worried thoughts about you, the curly haired male closed the door quietly and both you and Changbin stayed silent until the footsteps were faint on the other side of the black wooden door.

“Is this better?” Changbin said with a slight smile at the end. “They can be quite the bunch sometimes, either they’re very much off the deep end or they’re just a rowdy mess” he laughs, looking out in the distance before he looks at you with your knees under your chin, holding your legs close to your body.

“So,,, we’re all here for similar reasons?” you mumbled, holding your gaze stable on his dark eyes.

“yeah,,, pretty much. We’ve all dealt with something mentally draining and of course you don’t have to tell but I just want you to know that nothing will hurt you here.” Changbin replied.

“I do want to tell,,, but it’s just that I don’t want to be alone about it. I’ve never been around people that have shared the same experiences.”

Changbin slid closer to you on the couch, putting one leg over the other.

“It’s like that for,,, almost every single individual in the club, we all want to tell our stories and this is the place to do it. No one is gonna judge you for it. I remember thinking that when I first got here, ‘everyone is gonna judge me for not drinking’.”

Changbin’s last sentence caught your attention.

“but aren’t you the bartender? shouldn’t you know all the,,, liquors and such?”

Changbin sighed and you regretted you sentence, thinking that maybe you asked a too personal question.

“I do know them but not in the way one should.”

Something clicked in your head when the boy uttered those words. You nodded silently, letting your gaze fall to your wounded knees as your shaky voice spoke;

“So do I”

Changbin’s gaze was fixated on the floor as he shared what was on his mind.

“But no one judged me,,, eh,,, I never asked for your name!” the boy said to which you giggled, reassuring Changbin that you were in a stable state.

“It’s y/n, nice to meet you!” you said, stretching your hand forward to shake his. Changbin smiled towards your gesture.

“pretty name, angel” he said, shaking your hand and noticing how small it was in his grasp, the cold metal of his rings contrasting to your now warm hands. He didn’t let go immediately, instead holding your hand and feeling it’s warm temperature, running his thumb across your knuckles softly. You snarked at his comment.

“angel? didn’t know we had established pet names for each other in barely 10 minutes of meeting.”

“and I didn’t know angels landed in this place” he said back. “i’ve had to deal with 7 annoying boys that never listen to me,,, well, 8 but one of them,,, disappeared.”

You nodded, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by asking about that 8th guy incase it was an emotional topic.

“how is it? working with alcohol despite having quite a rocky relationship to it?”

The buff boy hummed, drumming his fingers on the seat next to him.

“It’s better than one might think. I get to be around it without engaging in the activity myself, simply serving clients and the boys already know it, we look out for each other. Like a family you know!” Changbin said with a happy tone, not wanting the conversation to get you in a bad mood after all you’ve been through that night.

“family,,, could use one of those” you joked and Changbin actually laughed which you’ve never felt with anyone before, the only response you usually got was your therapist writing down your self deprecating jokes with their orange lead pencil.

“you’re always welcome to us” he said, letting go of your hand that now felt empty. You felt safe. There was no way of describing it but you felt this caring aura around this man, drawing you closer to him.

“how long does this last? i’m guessing you go back to ‘the real world’ again at some point” you spoke, making quotation marks with your hands.

“it depends, it’s different every time but you will pass out just like you did when you got here but you won’t go back to the phone booth, you’ll wake up where you were last in real life. Time goes on in the real world but here,,, clocks don’t really work. We’ve tried bringing clocks or phones with us but the digits don’t change.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This had to be a dream.

“w-whats with the gold on the phone? Does money exist in this,,, universe?” you asked with confusion to which Changbin shook his head.

“no, drinks are free and so are the phone calls, i have no idea why the phone booth says that or why Chan said that drinks are on him, he must have been stressed trying to get the boys out of here” Changbin said to which you giggled.

“i-is there any time where you never return?” you asked, earning a bittersweet smile from the male.

“yeah,,, if those issues you have get resolved but,, that rarely happens. Destructive behaviours feed of each other. Get rid of one and it gets replaced with another.”

You recognised that. It was always something, you could never live in peace without feeling the need to self sabotage.

“Poor innie knows that too well” he added with an acerbic tone.

“innie?” you tilted your head in question, gazing around the dark room that was rather empty, only a couple of dark colored shelves on the wall and the couch you were sitting on along with the ceiling lamp that was stingy with it’s light.

“Jeongin, the youngest among us. Poor boy has been through it all, if it’s not drugs it’s self harm and Minho is a real dick sometimes, bringing pocket knives in “defense”. He’s delusional, thinking everyone is out to get him and Jeongin knows this. We’ve found our precious little boy in the bathroom too many times, holding those stupid knifes Minho keeps having on him and crying till his cheeks puff up.”

You took a mental note to keep your distance from Minho, feeling bad for Changbin that had to be amidst this mess while dealing with his own emotions. You could relate, being the emotional pillar between your parents that hated each other to the brink of physical violence. There’s always someone that has to suffer because of other people's problems.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Changbin.” you managed to stutter out, not knowing what else to add to the conversation.

“Ah,,, don’t be, y/n! Just take good care of yourself, that’s what matters the most to me” Changbin said. You smiled, moving closer and hovered your hand above his shoulder.

“Can I?” you asked quietly to which Changbin nodded and moments later felt your warm hand patting his back. He felt listened to. Understood. And even though he was yet to tell you his entire life story he knew that you were different from the others. You actually cared about him.

The room started spinning again and you clutched onto Changbin’s black t-shirt, trying to stabilize yourself. Those rainbow colored speckles you had seen earlier appeared again, vision blurring right in front of your eyes.

“y/n? how are you?” Changbin’s voice was worried but he knew what was happening.

“it’s spinning again, I t-think I’m gonna pass,,, out” you muttered,

“It’s alright y/n, I’m here yeah?” His rough voice distinguished itself from his comforting words as you held onto the dark haired boy, a faint smell of tobacco interlacing with the air you breathed in through your nose. Your two arms were now wrapped around the male with your face against his broad shoulder, eyes shutting as tightly as they could, face contorting into fear until everything disappeared. The vague beats of the music. The pain that ached from your knees. The feeling of finally finding home in someone's arms.

Everything turned into nothing in Changbin’s embrace. You were slowly turning into his everything because he had nothing in his life.

And then you woke up.

You gasped for air as you woke up in panic, hunching over on the floor in a coughing fit, clawing at your neck for oxygen. Panting on the floor you put your forehead against the wooden laminated floorboards, your frizzy hair blocking out the little light that was in the apartment and being hit with the malodorous smell of distilled alcohol.

What was that?

You were convinced that it was some kind of wicked dream. An escape from reality even. But as Changbin said, you did wake up in the exact same place and position you passed out in. A long breath seized through your lungs as you shifted in your position on the floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as the hard floor hit your wounded knees. You quickly sat down on your butt, lifting your knees up to your chin and only then did your heart drop.

It wasn’t a dream. Your eyes lingered on the bandaids that were placed with the utmost care across your both knees, a stain of dark brown blood seeping through the sticky elastic material and dried blood staining your knees in a haphazard attempt of somebody trying to wipe it off without hurting you. You managed to grab the edge of the sofa, levering yourself up with, testing out the strength left in your wobbly legs. Your phone lit up, sitting on the place you’re usually curled up in. Throwing yourself on the soft piece of furniture you observed the phone screen, lost eyes wandering mindlessly over the brightly lit display.

What you noticed wasn’t the worried text from your mother.

It was the fact that the digits hadn’t changed from when you passed out.

Your head snapped towards the tv screen and the phone fell from your hand when you stared at the screen, breath trembling.

The same documentary. The same colibri.

This couldn’t be. Surely you hadn’t just stopped time,,, right? This was not something Changbin warned you about. How long until you meet Changbin again? An hour,,, or ever?

There was nothing else you could do besides wait. Wait until the next time you pass out. And what better way to make time pass but to be confronted by your mother? You pulled up the text on your phone and read it hastily before scoffing.

[Are you eating well? Please call if you see this]

Since when did she care about you? You knew that she did care. Somewhere deep inside her motherly heart she did care but the way she displayed that so-called ‘affection’ didn’t make it obvious. You tried to justify every word, believing all the lies she fed you. You tried so hard to believe that you were healthy, that your mental health wasn’t deteriorating before the eyes of your very own mother that was refusing to see the truth. That her child was indeed in pain. You couldn’t blame her, it was her way of dealing with the issue but it didn’t make it easier for you. Your thumbs hovered above the keyboard, you couldn't think of anything better to write and quickly typed it down before you hit send.

[yes, i’m busy]

Busy contemplating your existence. Your father wasn’t exactly any better. Throwing out each one of your family members until there was only him left. He had no trouble filling that emptiness, simply creating a new family and forgetting you as if you were a chapter of the book called ‘previous life’. You didn’t mind, not after everything he did to you and your mother. There was no need for a person like that in your life but unfortunately it influenced you more than you thought, always seeking validation in either work or relationships because how could you validate yourself after your self esteem had been crushed by this tyrant?

You threw your phone on the table, a clink noise being heard as it hit a bottle, knocking it over but not breaking it. Your parental issues or mental health was for once not the biggest concern in your life, now instead wanting to search for the answers that could explain the nightclub. How did it exist? What caused it to exist and who was behind it? You needed to get back there somehow.

The tv had turned off by itself, you found yourself waking up on the couch, using a pillow as a blanket, hugging the warm material closer to your body as you whined. With confused and lost eyes you scanned the room for a clock, hitting the table a couple of times and finally getting your hands on your phone, bringing it closer to your eyes.

[3:02 am] the digits lit up. You rubbed your tired eyes with your left hand, throwing the pillow on the floor and using the phone display as a torch in the pitch dark room. There was no point in falling asleep again, you had already slept so many hours, sleeping anymore would only make you drowsy the entire next day. You yawned as you staggered towards the bathroom, flicking the lightswitch on the wall and squinting fiercely as you were blinded by the harsh bathroom ceiling light. You put the phone down and quickly caught your reflection in the mirror before you sat down on the toilet to pee, folding a couple of sheets toilet paper in your hand. You yawned again as you flushed, going to wash your hands but once again being amused by your reflection.

That’s not me.

It’s the person I’ve become but never wanted to be.

Your dark circles almost reached your cheekbones, the wounds on your knees still stinging even after hours of peaceful slumber. You poked your tongue out to which the reflection did the same, staring back at you with frizzy hair and puffy eyes from tears. You couldn’t trust it. Mirrors lie you thought and so does every single reflective surface in the entire world. You would never know what you truly looked like and that ignited panic in you, feeling your breath rapidly increasing as you held onto the white cold edge of the bathroom sink.

This happened. Too often. It was the feeling of not knowing yourself or your surroundings. Like you had just appeared in this world, scared and alone. To not know who you are and having to live with yourself til the day you die frightened you. But you didn’t know if death was any better. Sure, the thought was comforting but being buried under layers of soil, having flowers and insects living their best life above you as you simply rotted away wasn’t the solution to all your worries although a moment of eternal peace did sound tempting.

You felt a lump in your throat, trying to cough as if it was some sort of anxiety flem when in reality it was your brain setting up imaginary barricades. Your hair draped in front of your face and with furious eyes you peeked up, seeing your almost demon-like expression and smiling psychotically.

I hate you.

I fucking hate you, y/n l/n.

Your smile was wiped off the moment the room started spinning. Your reflection becomes diffuse in the mirror as if it wasn’t enough not recognising it. A loud gulp made its way down your esophagus as you continued staring at yourself in disgust. You blinked slowly, every time you closed your eyes you saw those rainbow colored specks all around, almost as if they were distracting you from what was happening, like a kaleidoscope for a child. You felt as if the ground started shaking, an earthquake in your personal world that was separated from the real one. Maybe you were going back to the nightclub, to Changbin’s reassuring arms or maybe you we’re really going crazy this time. The specks got bigger, turning into elaborate patterns in neon colors that clouded your vision. You kept eye contact with your reflection for what seemed like forever, despising the person that was staring back, your gaze broken as your eyes rolled back in your skull, your eyes white as if you’d been hexed before you collapsed on the frigid bathroom floor.

“y/n? y/n, wake up!”

The sun dazed your eyes as you woke up on the slightly toasty concrete. Changbin tilted his head as a cigarette was hanging out the corner of his mouth, bright sunlight behind him. He had on a jean jacket with patches from several underground punk and rock bands, his neck was embellished with multiple silver chains and his hair was slicked back, glistening in the heat. He knocked the wind out of you even more, as if passing out in the bathroom wasn’t enough torture.

“oh y/n! you’re awake!”

Chan says, coming closer to you, this time he’s wearing a tanktop that showed off his flawless abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You only then remembered that you looked like a mess, still in your pyjamas that consisted of an old sports event t-shirt and small basketball shorts.

“a-am i in the club again?” you say, rubbing your eyes with both hands before feeling your head pounding a bit, sitting up slowly and feeling the harsh ground beneath you.

“no! you’re at the phone booth, everyone is here now oh and, this is usual how it’s supposed to look.”

After your vision stops blurring you look around, seeing the same alleyway and the same crimson phone booth but being hit with a completely different atmosphere. People were standing in all types of fancy clothes, trendy bright colors, exaggerated makeup and 7 inch platforms. The sun was beaming, it felt like a hot summer day with friends, just like the old days back when you had friends.

“why does y/n always wear pyjamas? don’t you have any cool clothes?” Hyunjin snarks, pushing his blonde hair behind his ears, displaying his dangly silver and black earrings.

“knock it off asshat, the poor girl is probably scared off her mind” Seungmin sneaks up behind the blonde, punching him lightly in the stomach before he smiles sweetly at you. Duality was this man's second name.

“t-thank you seungmin” you said, giving a smile back but being met with a surprised facial expression.

“you remembered my name!” he said, giggling adorably. You gave a small nod before you looked back at Changbin that was drawing a breath from the cigarette, puffing out a white cloud close to your face before waving it away. You noticed how tired Changbin looked, his cheekbones sunken in and his complexion bleak. He stretched out his hand to help you up which you grabbed, the insides between his pointer and ring finger being slightly stained orange from tobacco. You wobbled up on your feet, knees slightly unstable but feeling better from sitting down a while.

“are you alright y/n? i could open that resting room if you want” he said before inhaling smoke once again, spreading in his mouth and intoxicating him. You shook your head.

“i want to see the club, why not while we’re there you know?” you said, smiling brightly and making his heart jump. Changbin hid the grin he so desperately wanted to display by dropping the cigarette bud on the concrete, stepping on it with his heavy boots that had chain details attached.

“alright, whatever you want angel” Changbin sneered which caught the attention of the 7 other boys, all staring at the jean-jacketed boy.

“angel? seems like someone has a crush” Hyunjin remarked making Jisung burst out in laughter.

“says master heartbreaker” Chan said under his breath making Hyunjin furrow his eyebrows, diverting his gaze from Changbin to Chan instead.

“come on you guys! can we not go to the club already?” Felix said, him also wearing a crop top along with a leather chest harness that accentuated his figure. Jisung nodded and made his way towards the phone booth that had droplets of steam on the inside, Felix and Hyunjin following shortly after the squirrel-like boy. You observed the alleyway. People leaning against the grey wall where the phone booth was, either smoking or chatting. Some were standing, others sitting down directly on the concrete, feeling the same heat you felt as you woke up.

With unstable steps you walked towards the phone booth behind all the boys, Changbin staying by your side and waving his hands towards the 7 boys that had somehow crammed into the humid and stuffy metal building, Chan closing the glassdoor as a couple of the boys giggled. You and Changbin stood on the other side of the door, seeing how Chan grabbed the black phone you had once held with cold dirty hands and Seungmin giggling as he took a sip out of the contents in the paper cup, passing it around to the others that did the same.

They disappeared right in front of you. Your mouth stood agape. They didn’t pass out, they just disappeared into thin air, leaving the airless crimson structure empty yet again.

“w-wait, why didn’t they pass out?” you asked, turning to Changbin as you ran a hand through your hair.

“it happens when you’re new. the body isn’t used to the entire,,, universe switch so you will probably pass out this time also but don’t worry, i’ll catch you”

Changbin grinned, opening the door and being hit by the lack of oxygen. He held the door open for you to which you smiled, stepping inside and seeing that the paper cup had been refilled automatically. The door closed behind Changbin, you standing in close proximity to the boy as you lifted the phone slowly, still feeling the warmth from Chan’s hand. The dark haired boy grabbed the brown paper cup, not even looking at the goopy substance before drinking it, seeing his adam's apple bob up and down. You put the phone towards your ear, wondering why you didn’t hear the female automated voice.

“it doesn’t work?” you said with confusion to which Changbin smiled, pressing in the infamous number on the rusty keypad.

[1800-xxx]

“yeah, it doesn’t if you don’t type in the number” he chuckled, holding the paper cup in both hands and leaning against the humid glass.

Suddenly you hear the voice you were dreading the hear.

It reminded you of that night. That dark rainy evening. The voice started to lag, just like it did last time. You hung up and turned around whereupon you saw Changbin handing you the paper cup. You gulped and put your lips on the edge of the cup, looking at him with unease but feeling comfortable with his presence. You tilted the cup, feeling the sweetness trickle down your throat, almost stinging your insides. Changbin smiled, he looked like the typical bad boy from every cliché teen movie but it made your heart flutter, slightly embarrassed at the state of yourself. He pushed away from the glass wall and swiped his thumb across the corner of your mouth, wiping off the sweet liquid and licking it off the tip of his thumb. You stood there, frozen at the sudden action, gazing softly at him.

“you had something there” he chuckled as you started to feel lightheaded again, your eyelids getting heavy.

“thanks” you said shortly, your gaze drifting down on the dirty floor beneath your feet, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Changbin didn’t say anything, catching you mere seconds after you collapsed on the grimy surface. Admiring your heavy eyes and puffy cheeks for a second before he himself disappeared into the abyss.

“One Moscow mule, please!”

An unfamiliar voice shouted through the blasting club music accompanied by what sounded like the shaking off a cocktail shaker. You groaned, your eyes fluttering open and being hit by the beams of a thousand light machines in all sorts of colors.

“Oh y/n!!” Jisung shouted on the other side of the bar, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the corner of the bar, on the same side as Changbin that was working diligently, mixing some concoction into a metal shaker. You rubbed your eyes, yawning and wondering how you could sleep sitting up. You heard Changbin set the metal cup down, telling something to the woman beside him, must be his co-worker you thought. He kneeled down next to the chair you were sitting on, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“how are you feeling?” he asked loudly, trying to overvoice the music.

“im good” you answered back just as loud, the two of you locking eyes. Changbin smiled at you with his tired face, glancing over the glasses that were located beneath the bar.

“you want something to drink?” Changbin said to which you nodded.

“give me anything” you said, messing with your hair and sighing. You felt tired, an urge to sleep despite the loud blaring music. Maybe it was more of an emotional fatigue. A lack of feeling. And that’s usually when you turn to the bottles. Changbin nodded, standing up and returning to his co-worker, starting to grab all kinds of pretty coloured alcohol.

“ay! y/n! come join us!” you heard Felix say, him standing with a glass in his hand, the other boys scattered around the club along with the other troubled individuals. You smiled widely, looking around and noticing the small exit gate connected to the bar. You patted Changbin on the back, him turning around with a grin before you exited through the gate, closing it after you and pushed through the crowd of people, making your way over to the boys.

“y/n, welcome to where you will feel alive” Jisung yelled, spreading his arms and nearly knocking someone in the hand.

It was truly living you thought. Every single way to escape reality was located here whether it would be alcohol, drugs or sex. People dancing and jumping, grinding and rubbing up against each other. In multiple booths there were people making out, touching in unknown places. Many looked outright high, moving as if their body was possessed by some dance god, not knowing how to control their limbs. You could have sworn you saw Seungmin putting a yellow pill in his mouth, smiling mischievously at someone you didn’t know.

So this was letting go.

“y/n! here!” you heard Changbin’s voice call behind you, turning around and seeing him putting a glass of clear liquid onto the stained wooden bar with coasters scattered all around, a couple lime wedges floating around with the ice in the glass.

“vodka tonic, giving you the strong ones” he said, grinning, to which you smiled back, understanding the hint to his personal life through his eyes. The glass was cold against your warm hand since you were in this stuffy environment filled with countless people and without any windows, only a ventilation system that led to nothing. You put the edge of the glass against your lips, taking a sip and swallowing harshly, feeling bitterness that tasted sweet because that’s what alcohol does when it’s consumed on a particularly bitter day. Or life.

The other boys were dancing, Chan mostly hanging around the edges of the nightclub and observing the nightlife. You made your way over to him, taking another sip in order to gain the courage to strike up a conversation.

“Sup? you feeling any better?” he asked before you had the chance to even open your mouth.

“better. why aren’t you enjoying yourself like the others?”

“i mean,,, i’m technically doing my job even though i’m not getting paid for it. i just like to be in charge i guess,,,” he said, getting more and more silent as he spoke. You nodded.

“i do work with stuff in real life as well” he added, to which you raised your eyebrows.

“what do you work with,,, if you don’t mind me asking!” you said, taking another sip of what tasted like Lucifer’s saliva.

“music producer! it’s tiresome but,,, i don’t really need sleep,,, or more like i can’t sleep. lucky there’s energy drinks and naps” he said with a giggle, his dimples displaying as he chuckled, leaning against the black walls of the nightclub.

“must be tough,,, but wait,,, i’ve never heard your music,,, and also shouldn’t you be the DJ then?” you said confused, swirling the liquid in your hand.

“but that’s the thing y/n, all these people, every single person you see in this room lives in another universe”

You gazed at him, Chan looking straight ahead towards the crowd.

“what do you mean by different universes?” you asked to which curly haired boy cocked his eyebrow.

“we will never coexist y/n, when i tell you that we’ve tried to bring our friendships to the real world i really mean it. we will never exist in your life outside of this hub and,,, it sucks.” Chan took a pause before speaking, pondering on what to say next.

“-thats what happened with a friend we had. i’m saying had because we don’t know where they are or what adventures await them. They just,,, disappeared” Chan said mellowly, you humming in response as you took a final sip of the devil’s juice, already feeling your face heating up.

“h-how does one get out of this place,,, forever i mean” you asked, leaning back against the same wall as Chan and looking right ahead as the song changed to a slower, almost psychedelic beat.

“when said person gets help,,, or starts to feel better or when you hit the casket, three options basically” he says with an acerbic smile. “what? Do you like Changbin?” Chan says teasingly. “you’ve been catching glances at him this entire conversation.”

He was right, you had been glancing over at Changbin occasionally, you couldn’t help it. Was it an excuse for you to look at his cute face from a distance or because you cared about him? You laughed it off but Chan turned serious.

“you know that’s it’s not possible.” he says quietly.

“what? what is not possible?”

“a relationship”

You choked on your own saliva, being blinded by the annoyingly bright strobe lights.

“a relat- ya! do you really think I have time for any of that? besides,,, i’m not really interested in Changbin.”

“who said only you should be interested?”

Your eyes widened when Chan said that. No way could Changbin have these weird feelings to you, the feeling shouldn’t be mutual.

“h-has Changbin said something about you?” you asked timidly, gazing over at Changbin that temporarily made eye contact across the club.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? but i’m telling you y/n,, don't get attached, you will get hurt,,, j-just like i did once”

Sure, you understood what Chan meant. Everyone was here for the time being. One day he could disappear if he decided that the life he was living now either isn’t worth it or he takes control and makes something out of it. There comes a time where you are too tired of living the way you do and so you do something about it, no matter if it’s good or bad.

Changbin waved his hand at you, wanting you to join him behind the bar where now Felix was standing and annoying Changbin by tickling him or whispering in his ear as he moved his body with much fluidity. You smiled, waving towards Chan shortly before you once again made your way through the crowd, feeling lightheaded but in a positive way, as if you really were forgetting reality for a moment.

“y/n!! come!!” Changbin yelled, bouncing slightly to the typical house beat that was now playing, barely holding the bottle of gin since Felix was pestering him playfully. Changbin’s co-worker opened the wooden gate for you, smiling sweetly at you and you doing the same back, your gaze drifting down until you notice the red marks around her throat. You were often scared by people. Not by their actions but by their way to cover them up and of course, you were guilty of this too. Looking at these people you would never guess the pain that was going on inside, the surface level happiness really is surface level. You could smile genuinely towards her, you didn’t have to understand everything she was going through but you knew how it was, smiling when bridges are burning in your mind.

Sometimes pretending hurts more.

“Changbin!” you squealed after you had passed by his co-worker, holding the empty glass that was now nothing more but half melted ice cubes and three wedges of bright green lime. Without thinking you put the glass down on his working station and pull him into a tight hug, squeezing your body against his and feeling the warmth radiate off of him. He froze awkwardly in your arms before loosening up, wrapping his arms around you and ultimately taking in your scent that was now mostly pungent with liquor and sleep, a soft scent that Changbin couldn’t get enough off. You felt safe which was rare in a nightclub especially knowing that most people were either high or carrying weapons. But there was something about him that made you feel like home. It felt familiar, like you’d visited his soul. As if the two of you were sharing the same empty house in your heart despite you never letting anyone in, too scared to be hurt again. Maybe you could let Changbin in, maybe he was different.

The hug lasted longer then you thought, his eyes darting all over the stuffy room before he slowly let go, taking a long inhale of the almost addictive smell. The two of you locked eyes, a shy red tinged his cheeks that was only visible due to there being a spotlight just above him.

“can i talk to you for a second?” you asked, rather boldy which was odd. He nodded and grabbed your wrist only to pull you in behind the same black door where you once ended up in, confused and dazed. He let go of you and closed the door behind him, you standing in the middle of the room that now had tiny light standing on the floor, nothing more new then the same old shelfs and black leather couch.

“what did you wanna talk about?,,, figured you maybe wanted to tell me somewhere more quiet”

‘Quiet’ was an overstatement, the music was making the walls shake and even though it was muffled the jumping of hundreds of people could still be heard in the small dark room where you were alone, with him.

“ehm,,, i don’t know really,,,” you stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“is something wrong y/n? Do you need to be alone for a while? i can le-”

“no, thank you,,, i just wanna be with you.” You interrupted him, his eyebrows furrowing when you uttered the last sentence. He stepped closer to you, the soles of his shoes making a pleasant sound against the floor. You lifted your gaze at him, Changbin standing right in front of you. Beauty that could make you drool. His hair was slightly messy, temples sweaty as he had worked and fetched all kinds of bottles for hours, the grey apron marking his title in the nightclub.

“but i’m here with you! Are you playing some sort of prank on me? did chan set this up?” he chuckled with a smirk, throwing a gaze at the door before diverting it back to your glossy eyes.

“n-no,,, Changbin, I want you”

His mind went blank and so did yours.

You don’t know why you said that but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag. It was too late.

“y/n? are you drunk?” he asked, looking at you seriously and putting the back of his hand against your forehead, suspecting you might be getting sick. You shook your head in response.

“no, it was only one drink, you know? i just,,, kinda,, want you”

You grabbed his hand that was still lingering on your forehead and drew it closer to your heart, holding firmly by his wrist. The clothed valleys of your breasts made contact with the rough palm of his hand, Changbin’s eyes still glued to yours. He scoffed loudly.

“and here i was,,, thinking it was some sort of unrequited love”

It felt like his hand turned into thorns, stinging your heart. So he wanted you too.

Changbin’s hand that rested on your boob snaked upwards, grabbing your jaw as he smiled at you briefly, tilting his head and slowly closing his eyes, attaching his rough lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed slowly, eyelashes fluttering in a flirty haze. This was how it felt to kiss someone you loved. It was as if a thousand fireworks ignited inside your beating heart, flying and exploding in an array of colors. A pure lightshow.

Your hands made their way to Changbin’s angular face, cupping his cheeks and feeling his sharp cheekbones against the palms of your hands. Your noses accidentally bumped into each other as your heads tilted from left to right, a sensual pace to the kiss to which the dark haired boy chuckled, adding some laughter to the otherwise grave situation that contained the sounds of two lips smooching each other. The music was only adding to the ambiance, Changbin’s hands wandering and exploring territory on your body that was foreign to him but very well-known to you. Your wet tongues danced around to a serenade, his kiss was strong, sure to leave an unforgettable impression on you. You would want him from now on and forever.

You moaned into the kiss as his hands rested on your ass, groping the flesh that was covered by your pyjamas-shorts. This made Changbin cock his eyebrow, pieces of his slicked back hair falling into his face as making him look like a charming 80′s prince. His fingers danced around the elastic band of your pants, fingers hooking and playfully tugging on the string, a silent plea for you to take them off. You smiled against his lips, saliva exchanging in a heavy and steamy kiss, your cheeks growing warmer by the second.

The two figures melted into one as Changbin pulled you closer to his body, feeling his cock poke through the coarse material of his jeans against your lower abdomen. Good to know that he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your hands descended downwards, traveling along his black tight t-shirt, the jean jacket from earlier being god knows where. The contour of his abs made you smirk, you knew what he was hiding beneath these clothes that you ravenously wanted to tear up. You palmed him through his pants, earning a hiss from the male that panted heavily into the kiss.

You broke the kiss, taking a moment to breathe as your lips were separated by a lonely string of saliva. You grabbed Changbin’s wrist, pushing him down on the leather couch as you straddled his lap, feeling his hard-on against your aching wet cunt. You wanted him so bad and here he was, in front of you for only you to devour. Changbin grabbed onto your hips, pinning them down against his cock and leaning forward to reattach his lips on yours, teeth accidentally clicking against each other moments before your sloppy hot tongues met, feeling his tongue against the soft surface of yours. The sound of lips meeting ringed through your ears, your hips grinding against Changbin’s crotch in a steady pace, feeling your neediness grow. Your hands ran along his abdomen, sneaking them up inside his shirt and tugging on the black material of his t-shirt, pulling it above his head. What was hiding underneath his clothes was more than a pleasant surprise. Your lips moved swiftly against his jawline, peppering kisses on his delicate neck as your hands teased the supple skin of his abdomen, feeling the outline of his muscles against your touch.

Changbin placed his hands near your stomach, pulling your oversized sleeping shirt over your head in the same fashion you did moments earlier. You gasped as the fabric danced over your now hardened nipples, freeing your tits. Of course you didn’t wear a bra when you were in the comfort of your own home but you didn’t think anyone would actually undress you, especially not Changbin. He hummed at the sight, cupping your tits in his hands that were covered in metal rings, feeling the coldness against your heated skin. You shuddered, the sensation shooting down to your dripping core. He kneaded them in his hands as you rubbed against his cock, his boner having a visible outline through his pants, you couldn’t help but to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing it and hearing the clicking sound of the buckle hitting itself. Changbin pulled away from your swollen lips, tapping you on the thigh to step off in order for him to pull his pants down. You moved to the seat next to him on the couch, the leather sticking back as you laid down, lifting your hips up to remove your pyjama pants along with your panties that quickly hid underneath the fussy pants due to it’s rather interesting print, small teddy bears printed on the fabric. You kicked off your shoes, more like slippers that you wore indoors.

Changbin swiftly pulled down his jeans and black boxers in one motion, throwing them close to your pile of clothes at the base of the couch. Your eyes widened, mouth watering at the pure sight of his cock, a pretty bead of precum decorating his slit, contrasting with the crimson shiny tip. A big gulp descended down your esophagus, heat tinging your cheeks. He chuckled from seeing you stare at his member with shiny doe eyes that reflected in the small lamp on the floor.

“You seem,,, intrigued” he chuckled to which you giggled, not believing that you were really in this small room together with him.

“Y-yeah,,, maybe I am” you snarked, moving your gaze to his eyes and smiling. Only on your way upwards his well-sculpted body did you see the boy holding a small blue plastic item. You furrowed your eyebrows when Changbin opened the packet, retrieving a slightly slippery condom from inside.

“Do we even need that?” you laughed before continuing. “I mean if nothing gets transferred to the real world neither should pregnancies or STD’s”

Changbin tsked, rolling the condom onto his veiny cock, turning slightly away from you to avoid your intense eyes.

“Ask Chan, he would know” Changbin said, turning back to you and making his way over to the couch.

“N-no,,, no way.” You shook your head, your mouth agape as your eyes still danced over Changbin’s buff thighs.

“Yup, knocked up a girl” he said, suppressing a laugh. “And that’s why y/n, you never think with your dick”.

“Being completely honest,,, I expected more from Chan, he seems really,,, responsible” you remarked, Changbin hovering over you and placing a soft kiss on your lips, his hands on either side of your figure.

“He is but I think love is his weak spot or more like,,, lack of love. He often confuses love with either sex, money or fame,,, might I even say drugs.”

You simply nodded not knowing what more to add to the conversation, Changbin’s fingers tracing small circles around your nipples, sneaking them down between your legs where your cunt was aching after him. Anything, as long as it was him. His middle- and ring finger dipped into your heat, feeling the wetness between your folds causing you to hold on to Changbin’s sturdy shoulder. Without warning his fingers entered your dripping hole, fingers curling upwards and grazing your g-spot. You flinched, feeling his cold metal rings against your clit. The dark haired boy shushed, reassuring you that you were in safe hands and that he would make you feel good. Nothing else mattered besides you.

His fingers grazed your velvety walls, thrusting up into your cunt with just enough vigor to make you clutch to his bicep, the firm muscles making you swoon. You whined, spreading your legs even wider, your left leg hanging over the leather couch, sticking to your thigh as your body was heating up from arousal. The wet sounds of Changbin’s fingers playing with your cunt along with your soft whimpers were louder than the music outside, you pressing your head back onto the couch, rubbing your hair on the material. Changbin licked his plump lips upon seeing your face contorting into all kinds of lewd facial expressions, his cock needing to feel your warmth wrapped around it. The pad of his thumb played with your clit, laying it flat against the nub and teasing it in small circles causing tears to prickle in the corners of your shut eyes.

“a-are you alright y/n?” he whispered softly in your ear, kissing the shell of your ear. You nodded, your hands cupping your tits, pinching your hardened nipples, adding pleasure and heat to the burning in your core. Changbin pulled out his fingers, putting the slick covered digits in his mouth and watching you with hawk eyes as he lapped up your juices, humming in delight.

“fuck you taste so good angel” he stated, making you blush, covering your face with your hands. Changbin chuckled, tapping the tip of his dick against your swollen clit and aligning himself with your entrance. You moaned from the sensations, wrapping your legs around him to pull him in, you growing impatient the more he teased.

“p-please fuck me Changbin” you said uttered in a faint voice, barely audible due to the music. It was as if his eyes tinged with a dark color, full of lust. His eyes were hooded, looking down at you with half closed lids, sighing loudly with sexual frustration. He wanted to destroy you, make you his but he had to hold onto his composure. Holding you firmly by your hips he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you, grunting at the warmness that comforted him. You hissed, biting the inside of your cheek, your nose scrunching up at the feeling of being stretched out by his girthy length.

“can I go all the way? does it feel alright?” he asked. You answered with a small “yes”, more worried about the door being unlocked, anyone could burst through the door in seconds only to witness Changbin fucking you on the couch. That thought was quickly wiped from your mind as his cock stuffed into your cunt, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he slowly thrusts into you, using the hands on your hips as a way to guide him, nailing your cervix with each movement. The tips of his ears turned red, the silver chain around his neck reflecting on the dim light in the room as it rocked back and forward above you. You placed your hands around his wrists, looking boldly into his eyes with, a feeling brewing inside you that was hard to describe. It was titillation mixed with yearning. You knew you got him here. He was safe in your arms. You wanted to save him from everything bad in this world but how is that possible when you can’t even save yourself?

“c-changbin” you said in broken syllables, his thrusts only quickening. “changbin!” you repeated, shutting your eyes tightly, curling your toes in pleasure as a string of pretty moans melodically fell from your mouth along with his name. You couldn’t take it, his cock ramming into you in a both mindful and eager manner causing you to claw at his forearms, nails digging into the soft skin. Your tongues were once again caught in a kiss, the taste of your tongue being irresistible to the boy but not sure if it was your love that was drawing him in or the subtle taste of liquor from earlier. His lips felt parched against your, his tongue gliding on your bottom lip before kissing it, his saliva feeling hot in your mouth. The boy above you pulled away for a moment.

“you’re so pretty like this y/n,, fuck, i think i love you”

You gulped but your silence was soon cut off from Changbin slamming his hips against yours, his cock hitting your that specific spot that made you go crazy, the familiar feeling of your orgasm penting up inside you. You moaned with desperation, the lewd sounds bouncing off the dark colored walls. This was music for Changbin’s ears. His grunts accompanied by your whimpers and the squelching sound of your walls engulfing his dick so tightly, the sounds alone was heaven for him. With every move against your body you felt the well-acquainted smell of cigarettes that you could almost feel in your lungs, an addictive scent.

“i love you too, Changbin” you mumbled, slurring on your words from nervousness, feeling shy even though you were naked in front of him. He smiled, peering down at you as his hair fell from it’s perfect gelled state. You smiled softly at him, his cheeks slowly turning a red that matched his lips. Your moans turned to borderline screams, his cock twitching inside of you as he slowly got closer to his sweet release. Clenching around him, Changbin grabbed bent your legs towards you, gently rolling his head backwards as the pace got quicker.

“i’m g-gonna cum! don’t stop!” you yelped, your heart thumping at the speed of light, tiny sweat droplets forming on your forehead. Changbin reached so deep inside of you causing you to thrash around, fiercely trying to grip to the edges of the couch. The burning in your core got intense, it felt as if a thousand stars were falling at the same time, bursting with amativeness. The sudden feeling of warmth took over your body, a pleasant tingle surging. A breathy moan leaving you stunned, grabbing onto Changbin’s hands that were pushing your knees towards you. Just as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks falling to the ground, your body jolted with the last couple of powerful thrusts, a loud gasp slipping from his lips. His girthy cock released it’s seed into the condom, his hot breath lingering near you.

He let go of your quivering legs, them flopping down on either side of him. Your chest heaved up and down as you breathed through your parted lips. Changbin pulled off, carefully removing the condom and discarding it somewhere on the floor. He snuggled close to you on the narrow couch, pressing his sweaty body against yours, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking.

“So you love me too?” he chuckled. You turned to face him, looking deep into his dark brown eyes that looked pitch black in the dim light. After a loud exhale you answered him.

“No, I think I can’t live without you” you whispered, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. His stable breath tickled against your chin, your eyes slowly closing as Changbin was observing your features that he found insanely attractive. And it was even more attractive that you were his. But this couldn’t last.

“You know this is not possible y/n” he said with sadness in his voice as he gulped, his adams apple protruding. You knew it, the thing you dreamt of wasn’t possible since the two of you didn’t exist in each other's worlds.

“I feel fucking stupid” you said with closed eyes, sighing after your words. Changbin shook his head.

“Don’t give up that easily y/n, we can try”. He was right but what relationship was only visible in the darkness of a nightclub? Only a promiscuous one. Yet, you didn’t want to give up. Not matter what kind of relationship it was you wanted to be with him.

“So,,, what does that mean? That we are-”

“Dating, I guess” he added shortly, the corner of his lips lifting upwards. It sounded weird in your ears. Dating someone you had only met a couple of times but it felt right. This was where you belonged. In his arms, away from all your demons. He truly cared for you, not like the others. He was unlike those in your life that said that they cared but never wanted to know more than the surface level of your character. He wanted to know everything about you. Your hurt, your sorrows, your pain but also your happiness, your joy and your solace. He wanted to know you.

Your hands trailed up and down his upper arms, his skin feeling soft against your touch. The two of you cuddled like this for a while, Changbin running his hands along your hair, its smell reminding him of a green meadow of millions of flowers in all shapes, colors and sizes. He didn’t want to leave but if he wasn’t back in the bar the boys would start looking for him and the last thing he wanted was 7 boys teasing him for getting it on. You were more than a hookup. More than just a fling.

Changbin stood up, squinting his eyes in order to look for his clothes and finding them scattered all over the room. He pulled his underwear and jeans over his lower body before pulling his shirt over his top half, the black t-shirt sitting snugly around his muscles. He ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head before smirking at you. Such a tease.

“Do you have to leave?” you asked with a whiny voice, your arms felt empty once again. He nodded.

“i’m afraid so, don’t want them thinking I've been transported back without them knowing, they get worried but that’s only natural I guess.”

You nodded back, putting your cheek against the leather on the seat, your arm hanging straight down, the back of your hand limp against the floor.

“Get dressed if you want to have some more fun or you can chill here for a moment but I have to warn you, that door doesn’t have a lock” Changbin said, pointing at the only door in the room.

“i’ve already noticed that” you remarked, grabbing your panties and only after you’ve pulled them halfway up your thigh did you see Changbin smirking at you.

“You’re cuter than I thought” he said, pointing at your teddy bear panties with his chin, stepping closer to you. You looked away, biting your lip in embarrassment as you felt his hand on your hair, ruffling it sloppily.

“You’re making fun of me!” you said back with a pout, pulling your pyjama pants over your bottom.

“yeah, because you’re adorable” he said, placing a peck on your lips. You wanted more of him. He was simply addictive.

But not even this universe wanted to see you two together.

Your eyelids got heavier, your eyebrows furrowing at the familiar yet distant feeling. It felt unknown until you saw the small specks clouding up your vision once again.

“y/n? y/n, how are you?” Changbin said with worry, grabbing you by your shoulders and looking at your apathetic gaze. “N-no, y/n, don’t leave now”

You didn’t want to but you didn’t decide when you left.

You harshly held Changbin in your arms, putting your forehead against his shoulder, rubbing against it. Changbin slowly put his hands around you, patting your back as salty tears rolled down your warm cheek, putting wet stains on his shirt.

“shh,,, it’s ok y/n, are you feeling dizzy?” he asked carefully to which you nodded mellowly, your bottom lip quivering as the multicolored boxes of light flashed before your eyes. The room felt unstable, like your legs wouldn’t hold you much longer and they didn’t when you collapsed into Changbin’s arms, him holding you tightly to his chest as your knees buckled. Your voice was unstable, a silent cry pleading to be heard.

“I love you” you whispered in a frail voice. The ear-deafening music from outside was tuning out from your hearing, your words slurring at the end as you repeated yourself for the last time.

“I love y-you”

Changbin was left hugging air, his arms empty as he opened his sparkling eyes. He was close to tears because he was left there. Without you.

“HEY! WHERE IS- oh”

Jisung burst through the black door, the six other boys standing close behind him as they looked around the room, eventually catching eye contact with Changbin.

“She went home” Changbin said softly, letting his arms fall to the sides. Jisung inched closer to him, patting him on the shoulder where your tears were still left as a souvenir of your love.

“She’ll come back, don’t worry about it” Jisung said with a reassuring smile, leading Changbin to the door, out of the room that smelled like sex and tenderness.

“Euw,, what is this doing here? Does nobody know how to clean up?” Felix said pointing at the used condom on the floor. Changbin’s face went cold, stopping dead in his tracks.

“is it yours or something Changbin?” Hyunjin laughed, pushing the youngest, Jeongin, in a fit of laughter.

The room went quiet after Hyunjin’s cold laughter. It was pretty obvious.

“YOU FUCKED HER?” Jisung screamed in Changbin’s ear, making him flinch away and holding his ear in pain. The room filled with all sorts of teasing sounds, everything from “ooh~" to “AYE” in obnoxious voices.

“Luckily he used a condom!” Minho snarled, glancing over at Chan that was ready to beat Minho into pulp. Chan sighed, regretting that he didn’t shove the condom in Minho’s smirky face.

“No but seriously you guys, y/n is more than you think. It’s not just another person I fucked, she actually means something to me.”

Just when Changbin thought he had something special some of the boys started laughing even harder, ruffling his hair and poking his cheeks.

“yeah right,,, what? are you guys dating or something?” Seungmin asked, rolling his eyes.

“yes, i’m serious you guys! I love her,,,” he said with a frown, already missing your touch.

“What idiot gets into a relationship 3 months before they have to go to rehab?” Minho says, retrieving a cigarette from the red packaging in the pocket of his leather jacket.

Oh fuck.

Rehab.

When someone recovers from their pain is when you disappear from the club. You are no longer a lost soul. You are no longer lost within yourself. And that’s when you return to the real world, your real world.

Keeping secrets in a relationship was deceitful in Changbin’s eyes. If you belong to someone you should be as transparent as the liquor he poured into his ice cold glass every evening. He felt guilty. You poured your heart out for him, telling him everything that had hurt for so many years and here he was, pretending. He did that a lot, mainly because he was taught to be a reliable man. It wasn’t manly to feel.

Which is why he left his home at a young age. He didn’t care if he worked a minimum wage job and lived in a destitute area, he was content as long as he didn’t live with his parents. But when you live alone it’s not rare that isolation creeps up on you and strokes your cheek with a feather light touch, inviting you over to a dance with the demons that would soon cloud up your mind. Alcohol was Changbin’s comfort. It was the only one that didn’t fail to reassure him. It was as if the bottles spoke to him, promising him that a life intoxicated was better than the life he was currently living.

And he fell for it.

Every time.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to live a life that is actually worth living. Change comes from within but he needed help and he had only recently realized that he had a problem, that these toxic liquids were what’s keeping him from chasing the dream life. He didn’t dream of much, just the average life would be more than enough, with someone he loved.

But what was he supposed to do?

Take the step to recover or continue his addiction for the sake of being with you?

The demons whispered softly in his ears.

Life or Love?

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820 @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Text

The Nanny [Maxwell Lord x Dave York x F!Reader] SMUT

Summary: Dave York is cold and rough around the edges, but he’s all you’ve ever been used to. And you’ve never been opposed to the amazing sex that comes alongside working for him, as a nanny for his two young daughters. However, things seem to spice up when you’re requested to watch over none other than Maxwell Lord’s son, and the two meet in an unlikely situation.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT; threesome, unprotected piv, fingering, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, orgasm denial, creampie, cunnilingus, choking, slapping, use of handcuffs, use of vibrator (on Maxwell!), face fucking, degradation kink, voyeurism kink, praise kink, food mention, allusions to murder/missing person. The suburban murder daddy and my sexy capitalist boyfriend come with their own warnings ;)

Word Count: 7000>

Masterlist

REBLOGS ARE SO APPRECIATED. 💛

He was your best customer. You’d been a nanny for the York family for two years now, and Alice and Molly were sweetest children you’d ever worked with. They were good as gold, always doing their homework to the best of their ability, they had wonderful manners thanks to their parenting, and they played nicely together. However, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a second motive for babysitting the girls.

Dave York was a single father. Despite being close to the family, you never asked what happened to Carol (his ex-wife/Alice and Molly’s mother), you assumed it was a touchy subject and quite frankly, none of your business. It did pique your curiosity though, how she had just seemed to vanish into thin air. It was unexplained, and you assumed it was hard on the family, especially the kids. Although Dave had been handling it quite well all things considered. It was strange to you, how they never spoke a word of her. She was truly an enigma. You saw her face in the very few family portraits that were peppered around the house, but that was all.

When Carol disappeared two years ago, Dave figured he’d need an extra pair of hands to help around the house while he was at work. You had your own place, sure, but you practically lived with the York family anyway. You had the mornings and early afternoons to yourself because Molly went to school, Alice got sent to daycare and Dave went to the office, but it was at night when he needed you the most.

You didn’t know where Dave went at night. He’d call you, once or twice a week on short notice, telling you he needed you to watch the girls. Whatever he was doing, he called it business, and didn’t explain it further. Dave was super accommodating to you, immediately telling you that you could just make yourself at home in his beautiful, extensive sized suburban house. He was like family to you. In fact, he was more. Dave relished in his own independence, but the truth was, he relied on you more than he’d like to admit.

You had your own room-- a soft, plush queen sized bed all to yourself. He even let you decorate. You smiled fondly at the memory of getting the girls to help paint the walls with you while their father was out on a ‘job’ one night. Your smile grew even wider when you remembered hearing the front door open in the early hours of the morning, and shuffling about downstairs. Every time Dave would come home, he’d slide into your bedroom and climb on top of you, smelling suspiciously like blood and sweat (although you knew better than to question it). His demeanour was ravenous and primal as he’d slide his thick, calloused fingers along your body. He’d push your nightgown up, squeeze your thighs, lift your legs up and wrap them around his waist. You were fucking him, sure. And you had been for the past two years. He was the most attractive man you’d ever met, with dark hair and big brown eyes. He was rough around the edges, intimidating, but it only spurred you on even more. Of course, nothing was ever made official. You were nothing more than his daughters’ nanny, just lucky enough to have your own bedroom in the York family home.

Dave was your only source of income, and he provided you with enough to get by. You never requested a large sum of money for watching the girls-- to be honest, you’d be satisfied enough with just the sex, but the pay was decent. You hadn’t really gotten any other babysitting jobs, and when you had, you’d deny them for the sake of keeping Dave in good spirits. You’d favour him over any client. Except today.

Your phone rang and you dived into your purse to answer it. The girls were playing on the floor and Dave was buttoning up his winter coat. “Hello?” you answered, not recognising the number.

“Yes, hello,” a feminine voice replied. “This is Raquel, I’m an assistant to Mr. Maxwell Lord, the CEO of Black Gold Cooperative.”

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head upon recognising the name. “The oil guy from TV?!” you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth in disbelief. Dave turned to you, quirking an eyebrow as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“As you may know, Mr. Lord is an esteemed businessman and well, he saw your advertisement in the paper saying you were a nanny-for-hire.” Raquel trailed off before pushing straight to the point. “He has a son, Alistair, six years old. He was wondering if you could watch him tonight? We’ve tried every other nanny in the area but no one else can take him short notice.”

“I- I’m actually on a job right now…” you bit your lip nervously.

“Mr. Lord will pay handsomely.” Raquel hummed, trying to coherese you.

“Just a moment,” you placed your mobile on the coffee table and looked up at Dave, whose dark eyes were already burning into you. They hadn’t left you once. He gave you a questioning look and a shaky exhale left your lips. You didn’t know why you were this nervous -- maybe it was just the intimidating aura Dave gave off. “Uhm… you know that guy on the television with the blonde hair who sells oil?”

“Maxwell Lord.” Dave said, matter-of-factly. You were slightly impressed that Dave already knew who he was.

“Uh… yeah, well. He has a son, apparently. And he can’t get a sitter. And he’s asked for me.” Dave’s expression didn’t change once.

“And?”

Why was your heart beating this fast? Why were you so fucking afraid of pissing Dave off?

“I-- nothing. You’re right. I’ll just tell him--” you stammered, reaching to grab your cell again.

“--tell him that you’ll take the job, I hope.” Dave’s lips curled into a smirk as he finished your sentence for you.

That was… weird. He didn’t seem jealous or anything like he’d usually be. He fiddled with the rest of his buttons on his coat before flicking his wrist out and checking the time on his watch.

“Are you-- are you sure?” you asked cautiously.

“Of course!” Dave beamed. “How old is the kid?”

“Same age as Alice.” you hummed.

“Perfect,” Dave smiled before kneeling down to kiss the forehead of his two little girls. “Daddy’s heading out now but there’s gonna be a little boy coming over to play with you. So be kind to him, okay?”

“Okay daddy, love you.” Molly smiled, wrapping her small chubby arms around her father’s neck.

“Love you too princess.” Dave chuckled and your heart gushed with warmth upon witnessing the interaction. Dave York might have been a scary man but he was a hell of a good father.

“Hi,” you said, picking the phone back up and putting it to your ear. “I can watch his kid but-- he’ll have to bring him here. Uhm… how long for?”

“One second,” Raquel hummed, holding the phone to her chest and looking over at the blonde haired businessman who was sitting at his expensive oak wood desk, neck deep in paperwork. “Mr. Lord?” Maxwell glanced up at Raquel, his eyes tired and a strand of his hair falling in his face. “She can do it but she requests that you bring Alistair over to the house she’s currently working at. And she wants to know how long she’ll have to watch him for.”

Maxwell sighed, exasperated, before looking back down at the paperwork and trying to gauge how long it would take him. “Three… four hours maybe?”

Raquel nodded her head in understanding. “Four hours max,” she promised you. “What is the address?” You gave her the address of the York homestead, watching Dave as he left the house without even muttering as much as a goodbye. Raquel scribbled down the address and handed it over to Maxwell who stood up and fixed his tie. “Thank you Ms Y/L/N, your service is very much appreciated.”

“Oh please just call me--”

And then the line went dead. That was… weird.

Maxwell grabbed his suit jacket and straightened out his clothes, grimacing at the ache in his back that he had from sitting at his desk all day. He shuffled out of his office, took the elevator downstairs, and found his son Alistair playing with a train set in the lobby of Black Gold Cooperative.

“Daddy!” Alistair cried out excitedly, shooting to his feet and running up to his father.

“Hi buddy!” Maxwell grinned, forcing out some enthusiasm as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around Alistair, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Are you finished work now? Can we go home?” Alistair quizzed, and Maxwell’s heart broke at the hopeful spark in his eyes.

“Ah-- not quite,” Maxwell admitted and Alistair’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “But I’m going to take you over to someone’s house… a uh-- a friend! And she will watch over you until daddy finishes work. I just don’t want you to be bored, okay? Raquel is going home now and I can’t… I can’t watch you. So…”

Alistair frowned sadly. “But I don’t want to go… I want to stay here. With you.” he mumbled.

“I know sweetie, but I won’t be too late, okay? And once I’m done tonight we can spend the whole day tomorrow together. How does that sound?”

“You said that yesterday…” Alistair whispered.

Maxwell sighed and pulled his son into an even tighter hug. “I-- I’m sorry. You know I’m doing my best, don’t you?”

“I know.” Alistair sniffed.

“And I want to give you the best life. Better than all the other kids. And better than what your old man had when he was your age. So… I have to work hard, okay? And one day you’ll get your pool that you want. And the pony and the race car…”

“I don’t want that daddy, I just want you.” Alistair confessed, his dark eyes glazed with unshed tears.

Maxwell pressed a kiss into Alistair’s forehead and pulled off him. “Okay. Go get your coat and I’ll pack up your trainset.”

“Can I take it to your friend’s house?” he questioned, his lips curling into a smile.

“Of course.” Maxwell replied.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Holy shit. He was even more attractive in real life than what he was on television. You weren’t necessarily nervous when you heard the knock on the door, but when you answered it, your heart slammed against your chest. Maxwell Lord stood before you, holding the hand of his son, but your eyes were just completely fixated on him. He donned a slightly oversized power-suit that broadened his shoulders significantly. It was a pale blue colour and even under the dark evening sky you noticed the lilac and purple tie and matching pocket square. It made you smile. It was endearing, almost.

“Good evening.” Max grinned that same, charming, TV smile that was so familiar.

“Hi.” you sighed longingly, your eyes wide and doe-shaped as you became lost in his gaze.

He looked like a fairytale prince. His hair was styled perfectly and despite the hour, you’d never expected his designer outfit to be pressed so perfectly.

“I’m Max Lord.” Maxwell greeted.

“I know.” you hummed, biting your lip as your eyes trailed down his body.

Maxwell chuckled, finding you absolutely adorable. He cleared his throat and gently pushed a begrudgent Alistair in front of him. “This is my son, Alistair.”

“Yeah…” you murmured. Molly tugged on your arm and pulled you straight out of your thoughts about Mr. Lord. “Uhm-- shit! Right. Sorry!” you gasped, becoming flustered. “Oh fuck-- I didn’t mean to curse-- I just--”

Maxwell raised his eyebrows and gently placed a hand on your arm. “It’s okay.” he said slowly and you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

“Um…” you took Alistair’s hand and grinned. “Hi love, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Alistair said quietly.

“Now Ali, don’t be shy.” Maxwell chastised.

“It’s okay,” you reassured Maxwell. “Uhm, this is Molly.” you presented Alistair and Maxwell with Dave’s little girl who had been standing by your side the entire time.

Alistair’s eyes lit up excitedly when he saw Molly. “Hi Molly, I’m Alistair Lorenz--Lord. Do you maybe want to be friends?”

“Hi Alistair Lord. I’m Molly York. Do you like popcorn?”

“Yes.” Alistair nodded merrily.

“Okay. We can be friends. Come with me.” Molly said, grabbing Alistair’s hand and pulling him into the house.

“I don’t have many friends…” you overheard Alistair say as the children padded into the living room and your heart shattered. He was clearly such a sweet little boy.

“Uhm, thanks for the favour. Short-notice and all.” Maxwell said, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s honestly fine.” you assured Max.

“Okay. Good. It was uh-- nice to meet you.” Maxwell smiled, before taking your hand and brushing a soft yet polite kiss over your knuckles. His gaze didn’t break away from you once and the butterflies in the pit of your stomach were overwhelming. His soft lips against your skin felt like an electric and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel capturing your own lips with his.

“You too.” you gasped.

“I’ll… see you later tonight.” Max grinned, dropping your hand and straightening out his suit once more.

“Okay. Yeah. Tonight.” you replied nervously, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Good night.” Max said politely before spinning around on his heel and walking back down the lawn to his Cadillac.

“Night!” you called after him, and he waved his hand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As it turned out, Alistair was the sweetest little boy you had ever watched over. After Molly insisted you make popcorn, and Alice begged you to put on The Little Mermaid, the four of you were lounging on the floor in a hand-crafted pillow fortress. The conversations between the three children were endearing, to say the least.

Alice: Y/N, what do you want to be when you’re older?

You: Well, when I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian and look after all the sick animals.

Molly: That’s what I want to do!

Alice: I want to be a princess.

Molly: What do you want to be, Alistair?

Alistair: I want to be like my dad, I s’pose.

Alistair didn’t talk much-- he definitely was shy and you could tell he wasn’t used to being around other kids, which was truly a shame. He didn’t have the communication skills that Alice and Molly had and by the sounds of it, he was living a pretty sheltered life-- private school and all. But if one thing was clear, it was how much Alistair idolised his father.

The kids played well together, all three of them dressing up as different Disney princesses. Before the movie even finished, they passed out and fell asleep on the floor. You didn’t bother carrying them to bed, not wanting to wake them. They looked comfortable enough in their LED lit castle made from blankets. So you just left them there, and changed into your own pajamas. You settled down for the evening with a glass of red wine and changed the movie to something you figured you’d enjoy more.

You found your mind wandering, thinking about the businessman whose son you were babysitting. In fact, you hadn’t even thought about Dave once. It was a welcome change. Maxwell was definitely gone for over four hours but he was so handsome, you absolutely could not stay mad at him for one moment. When the knock came at the door, at around 2a.m., you gasped and raced over to the mirror to fix your appearance the best you could. You grabbed your silk robe and wrapped it over your body before padding to the front door and unlocking it.

Maxwell greeted you with a bouquet of roses, and your jaw dropped. “Oh my--”

“These are for you.” Maxwell beamed. “An apology for being so late.”

“You really didn’t have too…” you smiled but graciously took the bouquet from him nonetheless. “Where did you even get these from? It’s so late. Nowhere’s open.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Maxwell hummed, watching you intently as you turned away from him to place the roses on the side table in the entryway.

His eyes clung to your body and he admired the way the silk robe hung against your perfect shape, emphasising the curve in your ass and even the way your nipples poked through the material. It was cold outside, afterall. When you turned back to face him, you noticed that his eyes were almost black and lust blown. You swallowed and offered him a nervous smile.

“Alistair is asleep. Would you uhm-- like to come in? For a nightcap?”

“Yeah,” Maxwell’s response came instantly in a breathy sigh. He let himself in, pushing past you and his broad chest grazing against your own, much softer chest. “Nice place you have.”

“Oh… thanks. It’s actually not my home-- I mean, I live here but…”

“I used to live in this neighbourhood,” Maxwell muttered, nosing around the different rooms. “Before my big pay rise, obviously.”

You gulped and looked down, following him around the house. You opened the living room door. “Alistair is sleeping.” you whispered and Max just smiled. “The kitchen is this way. What do you usually drink?”

“Do you have whiskey?”

Yeah. Dave’s whiskey.

“Um yes… I think so…” you mumbled, checking the liquor cabinet.

You gasped when a strong arm wrapped around your waist and gave your hip a little squeeze. Maxwell nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and pressed a soft kiss into your skin. “Is it okay if I do this?” he whispered, licking a stripe across your jaw.

Your eyes snapped shut as you tried to fight back a moan. “Y-yes.”

Maxwell skillfully navigated his hand to the ribbon that binded your robe together and tugged on it so the thin material fell open. His large ring clad fingers rolled over your stomach and grabbed your tits, squeezing them a few times as he nibbled down onto your skin.

“Your wife… I mean-- uhm… Alistair’s mother?” you huffed, leaning into his touch. You had to make sure.

“Divorced.” Maxwell promised, and you smiled longingly before turning around and pressing your palms flat against his chest. He chuckled darkly and pushed the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the tiled kitchen floor.

He swallowed upon seeing you in your short lace nightgown, that cut off mid-thigh. He felt his cock began to throb within the confines of his tailored suit pants just from looking at you.

“So… hard day at the office?” you cooed, helping him out of his suit jacket and tugging on his tie.

“So hard.” Maxwell grumbled, biting his lip before leaning in and capturing your lips into a kiss. You moaned under his touch and pressed your body into his. His hands found your ass you began to rub your knee over his erection.

“I see,” you giggled. “Would you… would you like to see my bedroom, Mr. Lord.”

Maxwell grinned and pecked your lips. “Yeah, but please, call me Max.”

Max.

God, you were smitten.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had been so caught up with Maxwell you had honestly forgotten about Dave. The same Dave who came home at around 3 a.m. every single night, who fucked you senseless until you couldn’t walk the next morning. He was a man who didn’t want to be messed with-- but shamelessly, you had completely forgotten about him. And poor Max hadn’t even got a warning. The second Dave got home and saw the discarded bouquet of roses on the side table, he saw red. Someone else trying to seduce you? That was never going to be okay with Dave. You were his and his only.

“Oh fuck Max please,” you gasped, thrusting your hips upwards as he needlily sucked on your clit. You arched your back, burying your face into your soft pillow. “So good.”

“You taste so fucking sweet.” Maxwell gasped, the curve of his nose nudging against your sensitive bud. You cried out with pleasure and grabbed a fistful of the blankets as you felt yourself begin to chase your oncoming high.

“Doesn’t she?” Dave’s deep voice came from the bedroom door, where he’d been watching Maxwell go down on you for the last ten minutes. Your heart dropped when you heard him-- and clearly, it was unexpected for Maxwell too. His chocolate brown eyes looked up at you as he tore his face from your soaking pussy. His lips were wet with the sheen from your arousal and he licked at them, relishing your flavour before turning around to face Dave.

Dave chuckled dryly. “No, please, don’t stop. I can't have you deny my nanny of an orgasm, can I?”

You felt your eyes go comically wide. “Dave I-- I can explain-”

“No need babygirl,” Dave reassured you, but his tone was dripping with malice. “Now… why don’t you show Mr. Lord how good you can be by cumming in his mouth?”

Maxwell hummed in surprise and proceeded to press a sloppy kiss into the apex of your thigh before giving you a kitten lick between your folds. “Fuck!” you gasped, celebrating in the way his golden tongue felt like magic. He was a salesman, sure, and a persuasive one at that-- but Maxwell Lord knew how to use his tongue efficiently, that much was clear.

“Didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” Maxwell growled, pinching your skin between his teeth.

“I don’t.” you sighed, tossing your head slightly and reaching down to lace your fingers into the CEO’s hair.

“So who is he?” Maxwell interrogated. You held back, knowing that if you replied he might stop lapping you up. It felt too good to risk it. Maxwell plunged a thick finger into your entrance without warning, causing you to squeal at the intrusion.

“Shit!” you cried out. Maxwell steadied his finger inside of you and began to brush the digit against your sweet spot as he began sucking on your clit, his cheek even hollowing. “I can’t-- I can’t hold on. I’m gonna--”

Your orgasm struck you before you could even get the words out. The hot blaze of wildfire rushed through your body and your mind was filled with such haze you hadn’t even heard Dave discard his belt and unzip his own trousers.

Maxwell dug his fingernails into your inner thighs as you came undone in his mouth. Gently, he pulled away from you again and stood up. His eyes followed Dave who was now naked and pumping his cock by the side of the bed.

“Who are you?” Maxwell changed his tactic by asking the darker haired man this time.

“You’ll soon find out,” Dave shot back. He turned to you and raised his hand, slapping your cheek so you focused your attention on him rather than Max. Maxwell was taken aback by his action, but truth be told, sex with Dave was always on the rougher side. “Open your mouth.” Dave commanded, and you happily obliged.

Still laying on your back, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. Dave pressed one knee down onto the bed next to you and pushed his cock in between your lips before fucking your mouth. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you adjusted to his length, and he thrusted into you with no remorse. You were used to it though, gagging around his girth and letting a mixture of your saliva and his precum dip down your face.

Maxwell’s eyes darted between you and Dave. He didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on before.

“Take your clothes off,” Dave said to Max, before groaning as you swiped your tongue along the underside of his cock. “Baby, why don’t you watch him undress.”

Maxwell stood up, even feeling slightly nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous. He’d hosted thousands of high press business meetings before, he’d even spoken at the White House and done broadcasts that had been seen by millions all around the world. He stood up and began to slowly undo the buttons down his shirt, and, just like Dave had requested, you watched him with a primal glint in your eye.

He was so hot. He wore an undershirt too. And when he took that off, it revealed a gorgeous tan chest. You watched him pull down his tailored pants and noticed the small pink blush cross his cheeks. That’s when you decided you actually, really liked Max.

You liked Dave too. Dave knew how to satisfy you in every way possible. He was always there, ready to go. And Dave was your protector. Somehow, you just knew that if anyone ever hurt you, Dave would make sure they never got the liberty of meeting you again. Dave was brutal, and certainly a little rough around the edges, but you didn’t mind it.

This thing with Maxwell though was new. He was handsome and polite. You’d never had a customer bring you red roses as a token of their appreciation before. He was flirtatious but also, so far, sex with him had been a lot sweeter and passionate. It was a new experience and you certainly weren’t opposed to it.

Once Max was completely naked, Dave’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good boy,” he cooed, and Maxwell felt his cock twitch at the appraisal. “You can use her, you know? Do whatever you want. Why don’t you fuck her?”

Of course the thought had crossed Maxwell’s mind, but he’d never got off with a woman in front of another man before. His delay in a response prompted Dave to speak up.

“I see you on TV,” Dave chuckled. “I know you’re not shy.”

That’s when Max remembered he had a reputation to uphold. Dave was right, he wasn’t shy. Maxwell Lord was powerful and he exuded confidence and charisma. He wasn’t going to let Dave intimidate him anymore.

You pulled off Dave with a wet pop and gasped for air. “He’s right Max,” you assured him, wiping your lips. “Anything you want.”

“I want a blowjob,” Maxwell shrugged casually. Dave quirked an eyebrow.

“From me or her?” He asked incredulously and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up even more.

“Her obviously!” Maxwell said, his voice heightening an octave and you burst out into a fit of laughter.

“Okay,” you agreed and gave Dave a tug on his dick. “Change positions.”

Still hard, Dave padded over to the end of the bed and Maxwell knelt next to you.

“You’re so big Maxie,” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and starting to jerk him off slowly. Your pace was teasing, but Maxwell didn’t press you to go further. He knew you would in your own time. The nickname ‘Maxie’ had the blonde haired man throb in your hands and you giggled, pressing a sweet kiss to his tip.

Dave turned around from the bed for just a second, and opened the bottom drawer of your dresser. He knew you kept a box of very special toys underneath all your panties, since he was the one who had bought them for you in the first place. Opening the velvet black box, he sighed in delight, reflecting on all the different things he could use.

Dave took out a pair of padded handcuffs and presented them to both you and Maxwell, the metal chain dangling before your eyes. He passed the cuffs to Max and pointed his finger.

“Tie her to the bed. It’ll keep her still while I fuck her.” Dave ordered and you felt your pussy clench around nothing as you anticipated what was to come.

“Are you alright with this?” Max leaned into you and whispered, wanting to be sure. His hot breath fanned over your earlobe and it sent a shiver down to your core. You nodded your head ‘yes’ and Maxwell unclicked the cuffs before carefully attaching them to your wrists, and then the bars of your headboard. You wiggled around, getting comfortable before spreading your legs wide for Dave.

You already felt yourself becoming increasingly sensitive from when you’d just come from Max’s tongue, but countless experiences with Dave meant that you could go at least another two or three times.

“Shit baby,” Dave muttered under his breath, drinking in the sight of you. Your folds were glistening and it was clear that Max’s thick finger had already stretched you open quite a bit. “You’re beautiful.”

“Come on and fuck me,” you moaned before turning to face Max again.

This entire time you’d been stroking his length, and like a good boy, he’d just been taking it. But Max had asked for a blow job and that was exactly what he was going to receive.

You started by giving him small kitten licks along his slit, collecting his salty precum on your tongue. You had to admit, he tasted delicious. He was thick though, thicker than Dave, and you managed to wrap your lips around just his head before feeling the need to take a moment to let your mouth adjust.

As you sucked on his tip, part of you wished that you weren’t cuffed to the bed. You would have brought your free hand down to the base of his cock and begin to cradle his balls, squeezing them and tracing your fingers along the skin there. The guttural whimpers that escaped Max’s throat were enough to soak your cunt again, which was just as well when you started to feel the bulbous head of Dave’s cock teasingly slide between your pussy lips.

The shock when Dave slid his entire length inside of you came without a warning, and somehow, it got you to open your mouth even wider so you could fit more of Max into your mouth. You supposed it all worked out.

The sound of the chain clanking against the metal bed frame filled the room as Dave began to thrust his cock in and out of you, his movements fast and rough just like always. He pulled your legs over his head, giving him complete access to sink himself right into you. You wanted to scream as he filled you up, his cock brushing against that sweet spot he had memorised inside of you every damn time.

Instead, you forced yourself to keep your cool and continued sucking off Max. You made the effort to open your eyes and look up at the boy who you had wrapped around your lips. His once styled hair was now disheveled and falling into his face, and you had to fight the urge to push it back. His chocolate brown eyes were on Dave though as he watched the man fuck you fast and hard. Dave’s pace was bruising and you knew that you wouldn’t last long.

Dave could tell you were close by the way your pussy walls clenched around him, aching to milk him of his seed.

“Want me to cum inside of you, pretty girl?” Dave asked, and you nodded your head desperately.

“Jesus-- fuck!” Max gasped, his large ring clad hands coming down to hold your head in place.

“You gonna cum down her throat, Lord?” Dave quizzed, but there was almost a taunting nature to his question that Max didn’t like one bit.

Getting a few more sucks out of you, Max doubled back and pulled himself out of your mouth completely, depriving himself of his own orgasm. You were surprised to say the least.

“You could’ve-- fuck-- you could’ve cum down my throat,” you moaned as Dave leaned over your fully exposed body and thrusted harder. “I would’ve let you.”

But Maxwell’s eyes had caught focused on the velvet black box Dave had left out. Curiously, he wandered over to it and took a look at the contents for himself.

While Max was momentarily absent, Dave made it his mission to get you to cum again. He brought his thumb down to your clit and began to rub tight circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were so wet, the noises that were coming from your cunt were obscene and if you weren’t already so comfortable around Dave, you might have been embarrassed. His thrusts became sloppy and erratic as he started to chase his own high.

He knew that the second you came, the second your perfect pussy tightened around his cock, he’d spill inside of you. So that was his goal.

Maxwell familiarized himself with a small bullet vibrator, silver in colour, and switched it on. The buzzing noise alerted both you and Dave, your heads snapping to face him. Dave halted in his movements and you couldn’t hide the way your lips curled into a grin, seeing Max with the vibrator in his hand.

“Come here and untie me,” you requested of Max. Max gulped and removed the handcuffs from your wrists. You rubbed the skin where they’d been gripping you and took the vibrator from Max. “Have you ever used one of these before?”

“Huh?” Max asked, furrowing his eyebrows together. He’d initially planned on using it with you. Holding it against your clit while Dave fucked you.

You giggled and held the vibrator to the tip of Max’s cock. The vibrations ran through his body and his eyes snapped shut as the pleasure consumed him. How come he’d never thought of trying this before? It felt so good.

Dave resumed fucking you and now, with your free hands, it meant you could stroke Maxwell’s cock. The combination of the vibrator and your hand was enough to send Maxwell over the edge.

He came, all over your face, his milky white seed spurting out. His load was impressively big and you opened your mouth wide for him, hoping to at least taste some of it.

After that, it was like a chain reaction. Once Max had finished, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your skin sent you into a frenzy and you came around Dave, your walls clenching around his manhood. The feeling of you gripping him tighter than a vice meant that on Dave’s final thrust, he spilled inside of you, just like he wanted. The heat of Max’s cum on your face and the warmth of Dave’s cum fill you up felt amazing. You laid there, panting and breathless, wondering how you had ever gotten so lucky.

You tossed the vibrator to one side and extended your arms, pulling Max down on top of you and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Was that okay?” you asked him, and he nodded his head, unable to hide the grin across his lips.

“Never done anything like that before,” Max admitted bashfully. “But I’d like to do it again.”

Helping Maxwell explore his sexuality like this could be really fun, you thought. You cupped your hands around his cheeks and he nudged his nose against yours. The intimacy between you both was outstanding and you loved every second of it.

“Good,” you smiled. “By the way, that’s Dave. He’s uhm.. I watch his kids.”

Maxwell looked back over at Dave who was tidying up the little black toybox. “Hi.” Dave mumbled awkwardly.

You shot your employer a glare. “Really Dave? You just fucked the shit out of me in front of Max, and now you’re gonna be all weird with him?”

Maxwell reluctantly pulled away from you, stifling a laugh before putting his clothes back on.

“You can uh, stay the night. If you like,” Dave offered. “It’s late and I’m sure you don’t wanna wake your kid up.”

Maxwell scratched the back of his head as he contemplated Dave’s comment. He made a good point. “I can take the couch?” Max asked. “I really don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly,” you smiled, interlocking your fingers with his and pulling him back over to your bed. “You can sleep with me… if you’d like.”

And boy did Maxwell like the sound of that. “Do you uh-- do you sleep with her? I mean. Besides her?” Max asked Dave.

“He never sleeps next to me,” you replied for him. “Prefers to sleep alone like the cold man he is.”

“Whatever,” Dave sighed. “I’m going to bed. Night.”

You rolled your eyes and blew Dave a kiss goodnight before turning back to Maxwell and pulling him back down onto the bed. You worked at the buttons of his shirt and pulled the expensive material off his broad shoulders.

“Is he… married?” Maxwell asked you nervously.

“Why? You interested?” you asked, a joking lilt to your voice, but Max just scowled. “No,” you told him. “His wife uh-- went missing a while ago. Before I worked here. She was presumed dead. Sometimes I think Dave killed her.” you scoffed incredulously and Maxwell’s jaw stood agape.

“Are you serious?” he asked and you laughed.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, swatting his arm playfully. “Dave can be cold, and rough. But behind that mean face he’s actually a good guy. A good father.”

Maxwell nodded knowingly. “Well that’s good then.” he mumbled. It was so easy to compare himself to other dads out there, knowing he’d never be good enough for Alistair.

“Are you okay?” you asked Max, smoothing out his dark blonde hair and kissing his jaw softly.

“Yeah, of course,” Maxwell reassured you, suddenly flashing one of his famous, charming television grins. He picked the bullet vibrator up and twiddled it between his fingers. “What do you think about going for a round two?” he smirked. “Just us. And maybe this time I can use this on you?”

You smiled, roaming your hands along his soft chest. “I like that idea.” you whispered wantonly before attaching your lips to his and pulling him on top of you.

You liked Dave. He knew his way around your body, he knew how to make you feel good and safe. But Maxwell came with feelings. He was attentive and affectionate, things you’d never had in a sexual relationship before. You were excited to see where things went between you two.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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pleasantanathema · 4 years

Text

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around.

You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

“What are we here for?”

He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

“You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

“Then why bring me?”

“Because you need to see it.”

You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

He always was so careless.

He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission.

How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

“Are you alright?”

For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

“That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

“Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

“Have I ever been?”

You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough.

Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

“Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.”

“Could I?”

You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

“If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

“For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers.

A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

“Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

“You don’t recognize him?”

Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

“You know I do.”

Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm.

Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

“Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

“It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

“Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

“I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

“But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

“I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

“I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly.

You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now.

He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale.

He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life.

But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

He was tired of wishing for death.

Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance.

You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

“I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

“Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

“You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.”

He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

“That’s not…I have something else for you.”

He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again.

“Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything.

This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it.

“These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.”

You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake.

You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

“I fucking knew it.”

He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

“Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

“What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

“There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

“There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers.

You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

“Tell me why.”

Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

“He overheard us—”

“Overheard what?”

You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

“Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

“That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

“He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

“Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much.

“Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

“Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

“You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again.

“Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

“We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you.

With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

“Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too.

You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

“I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

“I know.”

“And I’ll never forgive you.”

It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

“Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

His lips met yours with a bruising fervor.

The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation.

His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm.

It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

“I know.”

Next Chapter

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed.

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock!

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths.

It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then.

Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird.

They were starting to scare me, really.

“There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?”

“Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

“You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?”

The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if we have no victim,”

“But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

“Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy.

Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it.

———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down.

Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed.

Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy.

I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site.

I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it.

Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground.

Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him.

Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb.

My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated.

He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg.

The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me.

I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers.

The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’.

Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty.

I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell.

With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone.

I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster.

Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

“Get out of there, Seam brat!”

I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door.

A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason.

Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face.

A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!”

The boy scurried by with his head down.

My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction.

I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck.

When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!”

Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us.

“No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while.

When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways.

All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg.

While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me.

After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow.

“Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

“You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

“I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless.

——————-

One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise.

A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare.

I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

“Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was.

From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin.

“I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly.

“Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy.

“My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

“Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion.

Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes.

I felt smug and satisfied.

I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk.

“Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe.

“It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

I nodded.

“So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

“Same.”

He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,”

Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!”

I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game.

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it.

He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them.

Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama.

My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability.

He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd.

Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly?

Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me.

I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

“Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh.

Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed.

“Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world.

I nodded.

Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,”

Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.”

“Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

“For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

“Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?”

Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body.

“Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage.

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

The other girls hummed their yeses.

“Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!”

There were gasps all around.

It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

“What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody.

I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree.

‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with.

“Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

A big “Oh!” Swept the room.

Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all.

Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them.

Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on.

“That’s awful!” Said a girl.

“I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

“I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

“Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

“Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one.

I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker.

Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?”

My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

“Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

“Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

“It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

“Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises.

I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate.

Still…

“No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning.

“Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

“Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly.

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals.

The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me.

Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily.

Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain.

It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too.

We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.

It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup.

Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me.

I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone.

“There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me.

“I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate.

Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address.

After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe.

Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

“What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears.

Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit.

First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself?

“Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest.

“What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered.

“He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.”

I turned 16 that spring.

I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back.

I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

“Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass.

“And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

“That’ll take weeks!”

“Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!”

“Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

“What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

“Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

“I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes.

Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody.

I gasped. That had never happened before.

“How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically.

“Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly.

“What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there.

Whatever happened, was bad.

“Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced.

“No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot.

Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad.

“Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,”

“We’ll see.”

The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by.

“Look!” Gale shouted.

A shaky “D12” appeared under my message.

A relieved gasp left my mouth.

“District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2”

We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him!

I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

The answer came back faster. “S H”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned, “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

“Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such.

“Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

“He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

“Mmm… asking has been working so far,”

“Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,”

“You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

“Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

“There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,”

“You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

“YES NE”

“North East! I told you it’ll work!”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

“K”

With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district.

“Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!”

There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy.

“Anybody here?” I called again.

A weak cough answered in the distance.

I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone.

“Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me.

“Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks.

I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

“Well, don’t step on me!”

I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain.

I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue.

“Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

“I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way.

“How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

“Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again.

I was momentarily frightened.

“Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,”

His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?”

I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

“Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree.

“And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice.

He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional.

“Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

“Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly.

I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,”

He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…”

“Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

“I’m so tired, Katniss,”

“I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

“I can’t go back to my house though—“

“You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely.

I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming,

“Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated.

And that was that!

——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline.

“My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

“Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer.

“My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

“That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

“After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away.

“What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

“The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple.

I caressed his arm to sooth him.

He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

“How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius.

Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?”

“Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head.

“Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers.

Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?”

“I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

“Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

“The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

The officers stared at me, flabbergasted.

Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me.

Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers.

“Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook.

“Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!”

“No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

“It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,”

Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

“‘kay.”

“Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly.

Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned.

I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

“Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which.

“So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string.

I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods.

“Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

“Like the sunset,” he finished for me.

Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already.

He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,”

He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”

My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,”

“Thank you for finding me,”

“Thank you for leading me to you,”

We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

“Katniss…”

“Mmm,”

“We are soulmates.”

I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,”

I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff.

“If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

“It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips.

My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course.

“Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed.

After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief.

I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had.

“I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

“I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

“Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up.

“I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie.

“Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed.

“Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?”

I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness.

The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement.

Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons.

Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants.

Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help.

The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure.

The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope.

It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves.

“I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once.

After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18.

Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips.

On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control.

My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul.

After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

“You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

“Real.”

He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?”

“Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

“Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

#alliswell21 #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 154 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

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my contest submission for LH drabble week! @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë, Kuchel Ackerman Additional Tags: Sick Levi Ackerman, Leukemia, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Accidents, Doctor Hange Zoë, Angst, Slight OOC, sorry Series: Part 9 of Short Fics Summary:

Hange and Levi were separated for several years for reason they couldn't help. They finally found each other.

At just 18 years old, Levi received the worst news of his life. He was sick. Extremely sick. If someone even coughed or breathed on him, he could die. He had leukemia, a disease which attacks the body’s white blood cells. Our white blood cells are our guardians, protecting us from any infection that dares to enter. He had one friend he wanted to tell the most: his best friend Hange. She had been his friend since the beginning of high school. He didn’t like her at first, but she kept showing up, eager to be his friend. He eventually warmed up to her, allowing her to sit with him at lunch, hang out after class; soon, they were inseparable.

Levi’s heart was in his throat as he mentally prepared to present the life-changing news to his best friend. “Hange, I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice trembling. Hange looked at him funny. He never spoke in such a strange manner before. Hange hesitantly sat in front of him at the empty desk, turning around in the chair to face him.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned. She was starting to get nervous.

“I’m sick,” he began, almost inaudibly. “I have leukemia… I am gonna have to leave school to be in the hospital. I get so weak, and my immune system is absolute shit… I can’t even risk getting a cold, otherwise I can die.”

Hange’s heart sunk into her stomach. She took a deep breath and looked into her lap. She had to be strong for Levi, and she knew that.

“I’ll be here with you. We can text, call, facetime…”

“Yeah, we can,” he replied.

“We will! I’m your friend,” Hange said, grabbing his hand. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind.”

At first, Levi thought he’d be strong enough to withstand the chemotherapy. That he’d be the rare case to have no side effects. Boy, was Levi wrong. After his first two weeks, his health was tanking. It tanked so bad, in fact, that no one was allowed in the room except the doctors and nurses. Hange was one of the only people to call him daily besides his mom. Hange would Facetime him after class, telling him all about her day. Levi never had much to share from his monotonous days of drug infusions and immobilizing fatigue, but he enjoyed listening to Hange’s voice. Over time, Hange began to notice her friend change: His skin became ghostly pale and his words were mumbled. She would show him the blooming flowers in the spring, the fallen leaves in the autumn, the snow in the winter. She would show him anything to distract him from the excruciating pain he suffered each day.

After a year of chemotherapy treatments, the toxins started to take a toll on his body. He’d find clumps of black hair on his pillow every morning, until one night he insisted his mother shave it all off. Each clump of hair reminded him of the life he should’ve had. Going to class in-person instead of online for the rest of the semester, graduating through a computer screen. He fucking hated it. His physical and mental state began to worsen each week. He was like a walking corpse, sleeping about 16 hours each day. When he was awake, he was wishing he was asleep. Each day he withered away in the hospital bed. He would miss Hange’s calls frequently due to his concerningly deep slumbers. If he managed to pick up, he would fall asleep on the phone with her. Despite her busy school schedule, she found time to text him every day. That is what kept him going.

Every day turned into once a week, which turned into once a month, and soon not at all. He had officially lost touch with the only friend in his life. He felt it was his fault: he had no energy to ever respond to her texts. He couldn’t blame her. She did try. Alone in his hospital room staring at his old texts from her, his heart ached and tears spilled down his face.

Another year had passed when his doctor came into his shabby hospital room with a look of hope. Levi felt his heart begin to race.

“Levi, we have some good news and some bad news,” He began, shutting the door behind him. He wore a bright yellow gown with a blue face mask and latex gloves. “The good news is, your white blood cell levels are elevated. This is an improvement compared to last month’s tests. Since they’re higher, you’re well enough to receive a bone marrow transfusion from your mother, who’s a perfect match. The bad news is, there are many risks to having this transfusion. Your body can reject the bone marrow, which may cause massive complications. However, I think it is best for you to get the transplant. It is your best hope for overcoming this disease.”

With no hesitation, Levi agreed. Let’s do this thing.

He tried to reach out to Hange to tell her the news, but after a week with no response, he was disheartened. A part of him hoped she would respond. He had his family, and for that he was forever grateful, but who would he have once he left the hospital? Who would he talk to? Who would he be? He completely lost the miniscule amount of social skills he had. He did make friends with some of the patients on his floor. Unfortunately, he outlived most of them.

Fortunately for Levi, the transplant was a success. Within the next few months, he began to regain the color in his face, and hair started to sprout on his head again. He was sleeping less frequently, he was finally able to do a lap around the hospital floor without getting too tired. He was still on chemotherapy, but he was regaining his strength, and more importantly, he was getting his life back.

Levi was in (and rarely out of) the hospital almost four years. The day he was discharged for good was a beautiful spring day. The stale air became fresh as he exited the hospital in a wheelchair. He heard the bright green trees rustling and saw some beautiful pink flowers that reminded him of Hange. He took everything for granted until he was cooped up in a hospital room for years. He was grateful to Hange for being his eyes to the outside world. He felt a breeze run through his buzz cut. He took a deep breath, tears helplessly streaming down his face. He was finally free.

It wasn’t long before Levi started searching for his long lost friend. He hated himself for forgetting how to spell her name. Was it Hanje, Hangi, or Hange? He couldn’t quite remember. He searched her name and was shocked to find out Hange was a medical student practicing at Shinganshina General Hospital. Shinganshina General wasn’t far, so she must still live in the area. He couldn’t, however, find any of her social media accounts. She was off-the-grid. Great… he thought. She was always difficult. He was one to talk, though. He hasn't used social media in years.

Throughout the summer, Levi was able to land a job as a mechanic and he worked endlessly. He had to repay the debt he placed his parents in. His mother especially hated the idea of him working just as he finished his treatments, but Levi was persistent. Eventually, he saved enough money to send monthly deposits to his mom and move out. He couldn’t have his mom taking care of him anymore after all she sacrificed for him. He had made enough money on his own to afford a cheap apartment two blocks away from her house.

After getting settled, Levi told himself he couldn’t begin college without knowing about Hange’s whereabouts. He decided maybe if he drove to Shinganshina city, he would be able to find her somehow. Someone ought to know her… He got in his car one evening, punched in a diner’s address in Shinganshina, and started to drive. As he drove, he started to realize his plan was stupid. What, am I gonna stalk her at the hospital?

After finishing a 10-hour shift at the shop, he impulsively drove past his block and hit the highway. The highways were ruthless that Friday night. He had never been to Shinganshina before on his own. He drove, hovering his head over the steering wheel with his elbows tightly tucked to his sides. The speed limit signs read “65 MPH''; however, everyone was quickly steering around him, going way over 75. He was very tempted to turn around in spite of his impetuous road trip; but he couldn’t find an opportunity to do so.

On the other side of the road, the two lines merged into one. One of the drivers did not recognize this, and suddenly swerved onto the other side of the road where Levi was driving. Perhaps if Levi didn’t work so hard that day, there was a slight chance it could’ve been avoidable. The last thing he saw were bright fluorescent headlights before he was knocked unconscious.

“We checked his driver’s license. His name is Levi Ackerman, age 22, victim of a head-on vehicle collision. He was wearing his seatbelt and had an airbag. He may have suffered a SCI and concussion. His heart and lung sounds are normal although his sternum and ribs may be broken,” A paramedic announced as they wheeled the unconscious man through the glass doors of the emergency room.

“Get him up to imaging. We need to do a MRI, CAT scan, and x-ray STAT!” the doctor replied, taking her stethoscope to listen to his chest. She recognized the man right away but allowed her feelings to be suppressed for that crucial moment. Of course she recognized this man. He was her long lost friend, after all.

After finishing the tests, Levi was brought to a hospital room where he was changed into a hospital gown. Dr. Hange Zoe and Dr. Erwin Smith discussed the results: MRI showed signs of a concussion; CAT scan showed no signs of hemorrhaging; x-ray showed a cracked sternum and ribs 4 and 5 were broken. No signs of broken extremities, however he presented with ecchymosis on the bony prominences, such as his hips, knees, and collarbones.

As Levi awoke about two hours later, groaning loudly.

“My chest!” he complained, finding it hard to move. The two doctors turned around to find the patient had regained consciousness.

“Hello, Levi,” Dr. Smith began. “You were in a car accident. You’re at Shinganshina General Hospital. I am Dr. Erwin Smith, and this is my intern, Dr. Hange Zoe.” Levi’s eyes widened when he announced her name.

“H-Hange…” he whispered, attempting to sit up but failing. Dr. Smith placed his hand gingerly on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to sit up. Just relax. How is your pain? We can give you some medication.”

“It’s fucking horrible. Please,” He whimpered, grimacing. Dr. Smith nodded, leaving the room. Hange immediately grabbed a chair, sitting next to her patient, but more importantly her friend.

“Levi, dammit what happened?” She said softly, looking at him. His face was not scratched, it was just the rest of his body that was injured.

“What happened to you?!” He retorted, looking her in the eyes. She could tell he was hurt, not just physically. “So much for not losing you...”

“I was texting you as much as I could, Levi,” she explained, feeling guilty. “I had lost my phone and got a new one, but I couldn’t remember your number. I tried to find you online but I couldn’t… I am so sorry.” She hesitantly grabbed his hand. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he squeezed her hand.

“I was too sick to reply,” he said. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not-” A knock rang on the door and Hange stood up almost on cue.

“On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?” She asked, switching the topic.

“A big fat 10,” he groaned. Dr. Smith wheeled in an electronic machine with a wire and handle attached.

“This is a patient-controlled analgesia pump. You can push it as many times as you’d like to help alleviate your pain. You will not overdose since it has a set amount of medication you can receive per hour. Also, we have some acetaminophen for you.” Levi downed the pills as soon as it was handed to him. Dr. Smith hooked the tubing up to his IV and handed him the button.

“Hange, gather your information on your patient and then meet with me in the conference room.” Dr. Smith left the room, Hange hesitantly looking at her friend again.

“Let me just do a quick physical assessment,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her pen light. As she did her assessment, he admired her. Being a doctor really did suit her. She was wearing a white lab coat with her name embroidered into it. As she would move his gown around to assess his heart and lung sounds, his breath hitched when he felt the tips of her fingers touch his bruised chest. He looked at her face as she worked. She simultaneously looked the same and different. Different in how she wore her hair, in the shape of her glasses, and she stood taller, more confidently. Same in her eyes never losing their sparkle, her focused pouty face, as well as her smile. That breathtaking smile never changed.

Once she finished, she cleaned off her materials and tucked them away.

“Levi, you’ll be kept at the hospital overnight to monitor your heart on the EKG. If you are able to walk in the morning, you will be discharged. Do you have anyone you can call?”

He thought of his mother. He thought of the burden he crushed her with. He decided to deal with this on his own.

“I live alone,” he replied, looking towards the foot of the bed.

“I can stay with you,” She offered instantly. Levi’s face flushed as he met her eyes. “I-I mean… if you want! You have a concussion. You can’t drive yourself or be left alone.”

“Isn’t that like… against the rules?”

“...I am not working tomorrow. I can pick you up and we’ll go from there. Since you won’t be in the hospital for long, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” The corners of Levi’s mouth curled upwards.

“That is fine with me. Let’s do it.”

The next day, Levi was able to do a lap around the hospital floor. He walked around with one of the nurses to make sure he didn’t collapse. He was ready to go home. Correction: He was ready to go home with Hange.

Hange went to his hospital room in her normal clothes. Her style changed. She used to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans. She looked more mature in her white button-up top and black slacks. He had to prevent his mouth from opening when he saw her. She was beautiful, but of course he would never mention it. Hange walked down to the entrance of the hospital with the nurse and Levi. She went to get her car. A few minutes later, she arrived in her dark red Honda.

“Levi, you just have to direct me to your house…” She began, tapping at the car’s GPS. He gave the address and she punched it in.

“Hange? Why are you doing this for me?” He asked, almost by accident. She shifted the car into Drive.

“I… never stopped thinking about you, you know,” She began, driving away from the hospital. “Even though we lost touch, I still hoped to meet you again someday. You are the reason I wanted to be a doctor… and whenever I lost hope, I thought of you. Whether you know it or not, you pushed me to keep going.” He looked at her blushing face.

He was shocked by what she said. He felt the same. “Me too,” he confessed, looking in his lap. “Your calls saved my life. You were the only one who stuck around. I will never forget that.”

He was never one to say what he meant, but knowing he had the courage to speak those words to her, Hange felt a strong urge to kiss his lips. She always had feelings for him. Her feelings never changed, despite their time apart. In fact, it only confirmed her feelings for him even more.

“Even before I was hospitalized, I took everything for granted…” Levi said. “I have been wanting to tell you something ever since my diagnosis…” Hange felt her heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Thank you for being there for me.”

At the red light, Hange looked at him and squeezed his hand firmly. She noticed his cheeks were dusted with a red blush.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

He met her eyes, those radiant hazel eyes. He took advantage of the long stoplight to kiss the woman’s lips. He couldn’t contain his feelings anymore. He swore he’d tell her how much he meant to him one of these days. And God, her lips were soft and velvety and everything he’d imagined they’d be, but ten times better. She was shocked at first, but kissed him back. His lips were a little chapped from his rough night, but they were warm. She dreamt of this moment for years (as did he). It was better than how she thought it’d be too. She was intrigued by the quiet boy in school ever since she met him. Maybe she thought he’d lack passion, but it was the opposite. The kiss was full of passion and relief; after years of being in love with each other from a distance, they melted into each other. Suddenly, there was a beep behind her; the light had turned green. Hange chuckled, starting to drive again.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

#i hope this is not confusing...#also its slightly ooc #sorry #levihan #levihan fic #levihan angst #levi x hange #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi x hanji #aot #snk #aot fic #snk fic

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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I saw this one post where a person calls their dad during truth or dare using siri and siri is like "calling daddy" and the person starts screaming as someone's phone starts ringing. LIKE- IMAGINE IF THE READER DID THAT AND SHOUTO'S PHONE JUST STARTS RINGING AND CLASS-A1 STARTS SCREAMING. LIKE ALL OF THIS HAPPENS BEFORE SHOUTO EVEN KNOWS THE READER LIKES HIM AND NOW EVERYONE KNOWS THE READER HAS SHOUTO AS DADDY ON THEIR PHONE LIKE THIS SCENARIO CRACKS ME UP!! (I hope this made sense imao

warnings: crackish, 18+ characters, slight blink and miss alcohol consumption

a/n: so I read this when I first woke up and read it incorrectly, but now I see you said that they aren’t even together and I LMAOOOO OH NO THE FUCKING SECOND HAND EMBARASSMENT SHCKAODUAK readers got some big ass balls putting his contact in like that without securing the goods. excuse the errors, it was done on the phone.

— — —

you really needed to learn to stop letting your friends snoop through your phone.

the thing about mina and uraraka being allowed access to your phones passcode as your best friends meant that they also had free range in texting people back when you were busy and they were on your phone. in most situations it was never that big a problem because most texts you had to respond to were texts from deku, kaminari, your parents, or the classes group chat (and the nicknames on that group chat were self-assignable through the discord app).

but there came a day when you majorly fucked up.

“y/n!” mina yelled as you were busy changing from your hero costume to your casual wear, the long day at work finally over.

“yeah?” you answer back, only slightly distracted with figuring out if the slightly singed fabric was enough to request a new one. you looked over at mina who had been in the middle of responding back to kaminari about how no, you didn’t want to be his assistant for a magic trick he just learned, but minas typical soft smile was a deceiving, tainted smirk. “...mina?”

“who’s daddy?”

if your heart and stomach could drop to your toes, in this very moment it did as you threw yourself at the smirking acid user, voice already screaming as you tried to rip your phone from her hands. the two of you wrestled for your phone, voices screaming:

“give it back!”

“tell me who it is!”

“none of your damn business!”

“ow, my boob!”

“ow, my face!”

“WHO’S YOUR DADDY Y/N!”

eventually the two of you were broken apart but you held onto your phone.

for two months, mina pestered you about who it was, thankfully, she did it in a way were of wasn’t spread through your old classmates like wild fire. she pestered, and pestered, but you were equally stubborn. you wouldn’t give.

but you should had seen it coming when the since graduated class of 1-a arrived at momo’s apartment for a get together. why you agreed to play truth or dare should have been your clue to simply say “no.”

eventually, the universe was not in your favor, and with the slight calming buzz of the alcohol in your blood, minas gold eyes set on you with all but the fierceness of a lioness corning a bloodied, dying antelope.

“y/n, truth or dare?”

there was only ten of you (you, mina, uraraka, tokoyami, shoji, kaminari, kirishima, sero, hagakure, & mineta) playing the game, the other ten were by the tv watching as bakugou and deku played one another on some retro all might game.

“like hell imma fall for that you asshole, dare!” you exclaimed confidently, knowing full well what her truth would be. but unfortunately for you, the inevitable was still to come, your brain cells were just not working.

“I dare you to repeat after me,” mina spoke loudly, and you nodded, readying yourself for whatever she might say. “hey siri!”

“hey siri,” you spoke, your phone immediately lighting up at the sound of your command.

“call dad.”

“call dad,” you parrot, but then your blood runs cold. oh no, your dads contact had been changed to a set of emojis recently and when your body immediately reacted to turning off the phone, mina snatched it out of the way, pressing speaker as she does so.

“calling daddy.” came siri’s robotic voice and the ten in the circle immediately began to scream.

“MINA GIVE IT BACK!”

“NEVER!”

“what’s going on here?!” iida shouts from the tv area, his eyes wide with worry and needing to know the information of why ten people were screaming their heads off. “why are you yelling?!”

“SIRI IS CALLING Y/N’S DADDY AND ITS NOT THEIR DAD!” kaminari yells above the noise and instantly the crowd of a loud ten becomes rowdy twenty, everyone demanding to know who the fuck it was in their own way.

the ringing suddenly stops, embarrassed hot tears spilling over your eyes as you pray to whatever deity existed in the world that the contact of the person daddy held didn’t pick up.

but the soft breathing on the other side of the line seemed to echo through the room as everyone fell quiet immediately.

“hello, y/l/n?” comes the undeniable, irrefutable familiar voice of the one and only todoroki shouto and nineteen pairs of eyes fall on you. “everything okay?”

your heartbeat is hammering in your throat, and the cruel, sly grin of mina makes you want to cry as she pleasantly hands you your phone, as if nothing of controversy was happening.

“I-I’m okay,” you nearly whimper, shame digging into your shoulders nearly sinking you six feet under while your friends seemed to grow devil horns and glinting smirks. “was just... everyone’s wondering where you are, so I decided to call.”

you’re positive shouto nods from the other side, and you can feel the small smile from his voice as he speaks next, “i’m nearly here, actually. sorry, there was an incident with my filing at the agency. i’m not holding up anything, am I?”

“no, um... everyone’s just wanting to see you now.”

“you can say you miss me,” he teases gently and you swear a fire erupts on your face at the way the nearby gazes erupt in devilish glee. “i’m five minutes out, i’ll be there soon, no worries.”

“i’m not the one missing you!” your voice squeaks in your obvious denial. “everyone else does!”

“mhm.”

“it’s true!” you exasperates, your eyes pleading at mina who, despite absolutely soaking up your embarrassment and awkward flirting with who she knows is your crush, feels a tinge of sympathy.

“yeah! hurry up already todo-kun! we have to set the new record for DDR again!” mina yells loudly despite the quiet, quiet room.

“oh, hi ashido,” shouto greets before making a finalizing noise, the teasing in his tone vanished. “well, i’ll hang up, be there soon.”

“okay, yeah, see you then.”

“bye.”

the phone screen brightens again with the ended call, and never have you ever felt this embarrassed underneath the scrutinizing gazes of your closest friends.

“so...” jirou snickers, her teeth digging into her lower lip in a failed attempt to not laugh. “todoroki is your daddy?”

“SHUT UP!!!!!”

by the time shouto arrives to the get together, he’s impossibly confused with what’s going on, but they don’t let anything slip up, even when he goes to join you later on that night. they know better. they know you’re just friends.

#todoroki x reader

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unichrome · 4 years

Text

I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

#njursvikt #sjukhus

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sunny-flower-girl-01 · 4 years

Text

Ohana- A Hawaii Five-0 Fanfic Chapter Six

First, I just have to say I'm SO SO SO SO SORRY for how long it took to get this chapter up. I had work, Halloween, 3 birthdays (including my own) and I had to move classrooms, which I am just now settling into. I've always had time to write at work and at home, but this past month just hasn't been cooperating with me. I know this one is short, but I've been dying to make an update, so you guys don't think I've completely abandoned you, because I didn't!

I know this chapter is short a maybe a little boring, but the next chapter is underway, and I hope to have it up by next weekend before I go on my trip.

Thank you guys so much again!

Following Day

Steve McGarrett's House

Steve’s POV:

I dropped my keys on the table as I walked through the front door. Shutting and locking the door behind me, I went into the kitchen to see Danny drinking coffee and making pancakes. I saw his car in the driveway when I pulled in, so I knew he was here.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Danno? I thought you and Kari would be having breakfast this morning. Not that I’m complaining, pancakes look good.” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee and pulled the butter out of the fridge.

“Yeah well you aren’t going to get any if you keep putting butter in your damn coffee.” He said. I could tell he was pissed off. I stayed silent for a moment to see if he’d continue.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

He sighed and flipped a pancake. “I broke up with Kari.”

“Oh... I’m sorry man.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him work. “Again, not that I’m complaining, but why are you here and not at your place?”

“Better question, why weren’t you here when I got here?” He shot me a look. I rolled my eyes. Truth was, after Thea got off the phone with Nora, she and I fell asleep on her couch. We stayed up for a while and talked about nothing in particular. She told me some stories from her childhood, and I told her about my time in the Navy, whatever I was able to tell her. We agreed last night that we need to take this thing between us at a slow pace. We’re about to become parents so we need to be careful with how we do this. I shrugged my shoulders.

“I was with Thea last night.” I said simply and took a drink of my coffee. I moved to grab some pancakes when Danny lifted the plate and moved it out of arm's reach for me.

“You were where?”

“I was with Thea, okay? She got some bad news and needed someone to talk to so I went over and we fell asleep on the couch. Now give me a damn pancake.”

“All you did was sleep?” He asked.

“Yes, dammit. Give me the plate.” I said, leaning over the kitchen island to grab the plate from him.

He shook his head and set the plate down. He turned back to the stove to put more batter in the pan. “Don’t eat all of them. Rachel is dropping Grace off here in a bit when they get done looking at apartments with Thea.”

I nodded and made myself a plate. “Rachel’s been pretty generous with your time with Grace recently. Anything up with that?”

He shrugged and flipped the pancakes. “I don’t know. She hasn’t been fighting with me at all recently. I’m starting to think her and Stan are planning on moving again. They acted just like this before she told me she was moving my daughter across a whole country.”

“She can’t move her again. This is Grace’s home and your home, no matter how much you hate it here.” I said. Despite Danny’s feelings about the state of Hawaii, I knew he could never leave the family that he has found here with Five-0. It would never be the same without Danny or Grace.

Danny turned around and opened his mouth to say something. I knew exactly what he was about to say, so I beat him to it.

“I know, Danno. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

About an hour later, after I had gone on my swim and my run, Grace was dropped off and was trying to convince me and Danny we needed to go to Kamekona’s.

“Monkey, you just had breakfast an hour ago, let’s wait a little bit.” Danny explained. He and I were sitting on the couch watching a football game. Mostly it was me trying to pay attention to the game while Danny made comments and yelled at the tv the whole time. Grace was up at the table coloring. This was a normal Saturday routine for us. Sometimes Grace was here, sometimes she wasn’t. Other times the rest of the team joined us. After the crazy week we’ve had a work with the murder case we’re been on for a while, it’s nice to be able to sit down and relax.

“Thea asked me about Ty’s case. I feel bad not being able to tell her anything.” I said, taking a swig of my beer.

“Well you’ve got to know something to be able to tell her.” Danny said, glancing up at Grace who was in her own little world coloring. “This is the 3rd drowning victim found at that dock. All showing the same signs of a struggle, once we’re able to pinpoint where the bodies came before they washed up, it’ll narrow down the search. We’ll find them Steve.”

I nodded, turning back to the TV. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just don’t want there to be another body before we're able to get a lead.”

Danny’s phone started to ring from the kitchen. Grace got up and dashed to the other room. “I got it, I got it!”

Danny rolled his eyes. We both knew it wasn’t going to be work, they would have called me first. “I swear if it’s Rachel telling me she’s gonna pick her up soon, I might actually throw myself into the ocean.”

“You realize most people would actually enjoy that right?”

“Shut up.”

“Danno, it’s Auntie Thea.” Grace said, coming into the living room and holding the phone out to Danny. Danny and I gave each other a weird look. Why would she be calling Danny?

“Any arguments I need to know about?” Danny asked as he took the phone from Grace. I rolled my eyes and swatted his arm, trying to leave a mark.

“Answer the damn phone.” I said.

Thea’s POV:

“Why do we have to move?” Nora asked me for the 10th time this morning. I’ve had this conversation with her about 5 times in the last week. She doesn’t want to move from our little apartment, the only home she’s ever had. I’ve lived there since I left my mother’s house when I was 18. When Nora was born, she lived with my mother for about 3 weeks, then I moved her in with me. Since I was the only one taking care of her, it made more sense to have her with me instead of me traveling back and forth every day. Julia, my mother, never objected to it. She had Nora’s things packed up and waiting for me when I told her I was coming to get her. The next time I saw her was at her funeral a few months later.

“Because sweetie, our place is too small for two more babies, so we need to find a bigger place to fit everyone.” I said, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. She was leaning back in her booster seat, staring out the window. She turned her head and looked at me in the mirror.

“Is Steve going to live with us?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when I didn’t have anything to say. Steve and I had never really talked about what was going to happen after I had the twins. He would want to be close to them, right? Where would they stay? You couldn’t move newborn's back and forth like that could you? Why did it take my 7-year-old to make me realize these things?

“Uhm, I don’t know babe. I’ll have to talk to Steve about it.” I left it at that. I really did need to have a conversation with Steve about it. After last night, I feel better about sitting down and having this conversation with him. It was obvious that we both wanted to spend more time together, so finding a schedule that worked for all of us wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Since he’s going to be the new baby's daddy, does that mean he’s going to be-” She was cut off by my cell phone ringing. I quickly answered it, knowing full well what Nora’s question was about to be, but I didn’t have it in me to answer it right now.

I glanced down quickly to see it was Rachel before I held it up to my ear.

“Hey Rach, what’s up?” There was no response on the other end of the line, just some shuffling around and a loud banging sound. “Hello, Rachel? Can you hear me?” I asked again. This time, I heard what sounded like Stan off in the distance on the other end of the line.

“Open the fucking door Rachel, before I break it down?”

My eyes widened and I quickly tried to get Rachel’s attention. “Rachel! Hello! Can you hear me? Rachel, answer the phone!”

I heard Rachel call out and scream before the line went dead. Thankfully, I was at a red light and quickly calledDanny.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Nora asked. Me yelling at the phone probably scared her.

I looked back at her. “It’s fine baby, I just got to call Danny okay?” I turned down another street when I finally heard him answer.

“Hey Thea, what’s up? You know I think you hurt Steve’s feelings calling me instead of him.” He joked.

“Danny, something’s wrong over at Rachel’s house. I think Stan hurt her.”

Danny was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?” The joking tone in his voice was gone.

“She called me, I don’t know if it was on accident or on purpose. I could hear a lot of noise and Stan telling her he was going to break a door down. She was screaming but the phone hung up before I could get her to hear me.” I remembered suddenly that Rachel hadn’t told him about the divorce or the reason she was divorcing him. I knew Stan was angry, but I never thought that he would act like this towards her.

“Thea, where are you?” He asked. I could hear Steve asking him in the background what was going on. “Nora and I were on our way to Kamekona’s.” I was trying to pay attention to the road and talk on the phone.

“How close are you to Steve’s place? I have Grace over here and I don’t want to bring her.” I pulled up to the next light and made a U-turn.

“I’m just a few blocks away.” I said. He hung up and I put my phone down on the passenger seat.

“Nora, we’re going to go hang out with Grace at Steve’s for a while. Maybe I can call Kamekona and have him bring us some food. How about that?” I asked her. The nervous look on her face broke my heart.

“But is Auntie Rachel going to be okay?”

I tried my best to give her a small smile in the rear-view mirror.

“I hope so sweet pea, I hope so.”

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of Being a Ladybug 8

Okay my friends. Please put a comment on this post if you want to be tagged for this! That will be my tag list and when it’s full, that will be it. Please let me know!

MASTER LIST PREVIOUS

Cons of getting caught

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce went for a quick shower. He wanted a few minutes to talk to Alfred before Maria joined them for lunch. As far as he had seen that Maria is a creative and tactical genius. Plans formed in her head faster than even he could keep up with and she was always a few steps ahead. But because she was so many steps ahead, she relied on that rather than getting physical with her opponent. Even Tim never pulled his punches. He admitted that he had been out smarted, but in cases like the Joker or Scarecrow, you also had to be physical.

Deciding to focus on schooling instead, Bruce walked out of his bathroom and picked up his cell phone to call Gotham Academy. Sure, she was a few credits short of graduating, but he’d found that formal schooling went a long way with kids. Being around others their age and immerse themselves into the drama of day to day life had broken many an outer shell. He understood why that wasn’t an option in London, what with Adrien Agreste living just a few blocks over and attending the school Maria would have been in too, but here there was no connection to stop her. A knock on his door stayed his hand.

“Master Bruce, a moment before lunch?” Alfred’s voice seeped through the door.

“Of course, come in. I wanted your opinion with Maria either way. I was going to call GA to have her enrolled, and maybe introduce her to ballet or modern dance to help her with her flexibility. And the costume… I think pink and white instead of pink and black, to make her stand out more. I am also concerned about how quiet she is. Her old files said she was class president and vocal against bullies. Maybe she will regain some of that with being in a classroom…” Bruce rambled off, dressing without looking at his clothes.

“About that, Mater Bruce,” Alfred finally interjected, “Miss Maria went out early this morning, as I am sure you noticed. She mentioned Gotham Library, and that is indeed where her tracker stayed, however I received a call from Mr. Fox, asking about why Maria was there and applying for work. Mr. Fox also seems to think that a formal classroom setting would put Maria more on edge.”

‘What…? Okay brain, back up and start over….’ So she wants to work, okay. He personally did not believe that anyone under 18 should need to work, as they should be focusing on being a child and on their schoolwork. He knew from personal experience that many kids in Gotham worked part time. But 14… was a bit young. He frowned. And formal schooling causing anxiety? Well, sure but she would need to grow out of that eventually… then again… Bruce remembered that there had been complaints of severe bullying in her profile, so maybe not then. And she was about to graduate too, anyways. Finish her High school from home and allow her to take university classes, just like Tim. And working would allow her to socialize outside, without attending school. He nodded. Okay.

“And the dancing?” He asked.

“I believe that would be an excellent conversation to have with Maria” Alfred smirked. Ah, of course. No making decisions without the child’s in put. He could do that.

“Best not to keep her waiting then, Alfred” Bruce placed his hand on Alfred’s shoulder and smiled at him as he passed to go downstairs.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred left the cave after thirty minutes to get started on making lunch. While the food was cooking, he chose to investigate Marinette Dupain-Cheng, rather than clean. He had, of course, read Maria’s file from Diana, but it seemed… incomplete. Maria was forcing herself to not be like Marinette, and that meant huge parts of her life and personality were missing. Alfred tapped his chin in thought as he saw her multiple school awards, extensive volunteer experience, and contests won. Hm. Marinette was passionate about the things she liked: sewing, crafting and creating, baking and helping. Hm. He looked at his oven, only used to roast potatoes and meat and occasionally to bake a cake. That might work. He decided on a whim to also go online and have a sewing machine, in hot pink, delivered to the manor. A welcome home present.

When he finished cooking and then cleaning, Alfred went upstairs to talk with Master Bruce. Surely they could come up with a schedule that would allow her the time and ability to socialize.

After their discussion, Bruce went ahead downstairs, while Alfred stayed back to knock on Maria’s door. No answer. He opened the door slightly to listen in case she was in the bath. Nothing. Peeking through the door, he noticed the sheets were crumpled slightly. Ah. Must be asleep.

Going downstairs he found Bruce reading the Newspaper, patiently waiting for Maria.

“I am afraid that Miss Maria will not be joining you for lunch. I believe she fell asleep after the gruelling training today.”

Bruce smiled and nodded, digging into his lunch and pulling a notebook out to take notes in. A to-do list.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce was vibrating as he led Maria into the dining room. He had believed that jetlag and training had been enough to knock her out until dinner. Imagine his surprise and worry when Maria was not in her room when they called her for dinner. And imagine his horror when he noticed her tracker having been ditched. He was about to launch the bat mobile when he recalled Maria looking for a job. He went to the computer and hacked the camera feed in the café. There she was, running back and forth from the coffee machines to the customers, a bright smile on her face. He sighed, his blood still thrumming in his years. He had left at 10 PM to make it on time for the 11 PM closing time. He was shocked when Krista, the owner of the café brushed off his offer to drive his own ward home. So she did not use his name to get the job.

When they reached the dining room, he pushed Maria down at the table with a cold plate left sitting there since 6 PM. His own was also untouched, worry churning his insides and making his appetite non-existent. He sighed, wiping his down his face with both hands. Maria wasn’t a Gothimite. She had no idea the troubles and dangers around every corner. She was new, and from what he understood from Lucius she was expecting this to be a temporary home for her, instead of permanent. It seemed despite his track record of permanently adopting strays, Maria felt like she was not welcome here.

He took a deep breath, “Maria, I realize that my not being here to greet you personally perhaps gave you the impression that you were here temporarily, but I want you to know that isn’t the case. You are here to stay as long as you like. This … I … Let this be your home Maria, as much as it has been for me. We cannot replace your parents, and I am not Diana, but we do want you to be comfortable here.”

He said this while looking at her bowed head. Her hands had been in her lap, but raised to her tear stained eyes. Bruce frowned. How many times has she had to cry so silently that no one even noticed she was crying. He stood from his chair and pulled her into his arms. How long has she had to be so strong? He let her cry herself out and put her to bed. She’d be starving by the morning, but she needed the rest. Walking from the room, he shut the door on a sigh.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred stood in the shadows of the hall.

“Clear my schedule for the morning. I think I’m needed here for the week” he whispered, before retiring to the cave.

Tag List

@sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @kuroko26 @northernbluetongue @chez-pezeater @luciferge @vixen-uchiha @bluerosette23 @mochinek0 @krunchy-tuna @treebrosha @geekydragonyt @vivilakitty @sassy-spocko @bluefiredemon-blog @mindfulmagics @thornangelic727 @xxmadamjinxx @thepeacetea @whomthefyck @lamestplaceintheworld @miraculous-ninja @mikantsume @unabashedbookworm @kandi-pie @2sunchild2 @redsparrow12 @shamefullove @cadencehood @yin-390 @tazanna-blythe @bb-basbusa @zazzlejazzle @fanfictionaddict13 @royalchaoticfangirl @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @angelisalise @graduatedmelon @trickstermiraculous @ayuchan07 @thatrandomfandomsgirl @sweatyruinsstudentbored @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @captainmac6 @rag1000 @cupcakesandkisses @crazylittlemunchkin @vivian077

#maribat #maridami #daminette #Of Being a Ladybug #Marinette deserves better #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batman #Gotham #miraculous ladybug #paris rogues

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introvertllux · 4 years

Text

Peace in Normalcy: Chapter Seven

(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue).

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

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Prue’s P.O.V

Monday, October 28, 2019

“Hello, Prue. How are you doing today?” Dr. Salomon asked. “I’m okay, I guess,” I responded back.

“You, guess?” He questions as he raised his right eyebrow.

“I mean… yes and no?” I said sounding unsure.

“Well, why don’t you start sharing with me how things have been going since we’ve last met.” He said.

“Okay, well I went to my sister and brother-in-law’s annual Halloween party. I had so much anxiety going to it in the first place. I really didn’t want to, but I figured this would be a way to push myself out of my comfort zone and start to rekindle my relationship with my sister.” I said.

“What made you uncomfortable about going?” He asked me.

“I hate crowds of people. I’m introverted… I rather read a book, work on some art, or watch a movie or even binge watch a tv series than to be surrounded by a mass number of drunk strangers and loud music. I get anxious being around strangers, not knowing them or their intentions I guess…” I responded.

“Hmm… which is expected when you experience a lot of trauma in your past. You begin to question people’s intentions especially when they are strangers but that becomes a problem when you try to form a relationship with someone and they show you their intentions and if they’re positive and you still don’t trust them that will be detrimental to the relationship.” He said.

“That’s absolutely true. And- you know after going to the hospital and coming out I just realized that I’m questioning everyone. I feel almost paranoid. I have to question if my family is treating me nicely because they think I will explode at any moment, harm myself, or even run away. I-I feel as though my mind is starting to blur the lines between what’s real and what’s in my head.” I said feeling upset with myself.

“From what you’ve shared these past couples of sessions I don’t think you’re paranoid at all. I believe you are finding a way to express how you feel. You have a lot of pent up emotions that you’ve been holding on for many, many, years. You have a right to feel this way. You are entitled to feel how you want to feel, Prue.” Dr. Salomon.

“I-I just don’t want to seem as though I’m blaming everyone around me for my issues. Maybe I can’t move forward because, in reality, I don’t want too. Maybe I’m just the problem.” I said, now feeling ashamed of myself.

“I don’t think you are blaming anyone but yourself. Don’t you think it’s about time that you hold the people around you accountable for the mistake that they’ve made that has resulted in how your childhood came to be? I’m not saying they take all of the blame. But for years you have carried all this weight of guilt, shame, trauma, all alone when you weren’t in this on your own.” He stated.

I stared at him as I realized the truth in what he had said.

“Prue… you are not a problem. You are just a person with them. Just like you, I have problems of my own, your parents do, your sister does too. Everyone does. Nothing in this life comes without problems. But it’s how you choose to deal with those problems it what really matters.” He said.

I looked at him with a small smile, “You’re right. I have to change my perception of things. I have to put into the world what I want out of it.” I said.

Dr. Salomon nodded him as he sat up his respective love seat and asked, “Not to change the subject, but I would like to focus more on your interactions with others. Did you have any interactions with anyone at the Halloween party.”

“Um, not a first no. I almost had a panic attack for sure… When I looked around the room and saw everyone I started to feel overwhelmed and scared. As I stated before I don’t like crowds and I’m very skeptical of strangers and aside from my sister and my brother-in-law I didn’t know anyone there.”

“But I would have to say the beginning of my panic attack started when I was looking around and I saw someone that looked like Jaxson to me. I- I didn’t want to believe it was him. I didn’t think Mallory or Jahmal knew him. But then again, we live in a small town. I blinked so many times trying to snap myself out of it. B-but I just kept seeing him standing there, drink in his hand, just staring at me with the smug and dangerous look in his eyes and that smirk.” I said as I began to recall the memory. I took a deep breath, trying my best not to panic once again.

“So, you felt like you saw Jaxson there, which made you panic. But you did not have a panic attack?” He clarified. I nodded my head yes.

“Okay, so what stopped you from having a panic attack?” He asked.

“I-I was snapped out of it by Frank. It was strange. I wasn’t scared or alarmed by him or the fact that he was a male that I barely knew. I just was- in a weird way comforted by him. He didn’t traditionally approach me, but the fact that he saw that something was wrong with me out of all people there is…what had comforted me. If that makes sense.” I said trying to be as clear as possible.

“Ah, I see. It seems that despite having traumatic experience in the past with males, it seems that you’ve taken a liking to him. Is it too early to say that you may even trust him?” Dr. Salomon questioned.

“I-I mean so far with him I’ve done things and have acted so unlike me? I don’t know. We spent the whole rest of the night joking and talking. He even pranked my mom’s rival, for disliking me. I- I don’t know that’s a lest how I took it. If it was any other guy I wouldn’t have gone. But he makes me feel normal? Again, I don’t know if it’s because he’s gone to the hospital and so have I and maybe he gets it. But I just feel like I’m not being judged or treated a certain way because of my mental health. Maybe he’s pitying me because I’m a female and I’m younger than him?” I said I continued to ramble.

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe it’s okay for you to like someone. Romantically or not. Have you considered that it’s okay for you to have “normal” things like a crush?” He asked.

“I did, once. I thought I was going to have that with Jaxson. I thought he would be the best thing that’s ever happened to me but he- “I said before Dr. Salomon interrupted me.

“Stole from you.” Dr. Salomon, he said completing my sentence.

“Yeah. He took what I thought could be something I’ve thought about, dreamt about, and he twisted it into something evil and wicked. That experience made me not trust men. Every so often I think of my parents, my sister, or even couples I’ve seen around, and I think about how that could be me but then… I just get these flashbacks of Jaxson and what he did to me. I think about another guy doing that to me. I don’t want to think about Frank in that way. But I don’t know him so what if he starts off nice like Jaxson and does the same things as him? I mean when I was hanging out with Frank I didn’t think about Jaxson or the things he did. I didn’t even have any thoughts about Frank hurting me. But… it’s still possible.” I said.

“Prue, I’ll tell you this. No matter what you have gone through or what you will face in the future, you never, ever let someone still your joy. He may have taken what you wanted at that time but what about now. You have the opportunity to change all of that. A second chance. You cannot waste it on what-ifs and comparisons to people who have hurt you. You have to grab the bull by its horns and ride the wave of life. You have to start living the life you want to live.” He said.

I looked at him again as I listened intently.

“When are you going to decide to live?” He said lastly.

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I stood outside of the library as I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the time. It was 10:45 AM. I let both Dr. Salomon and my parents know that I had to leave my appointment early (of course for different reasons). It was harder to explain to my parents why they needed to pick me up 15 minutes early and drop me off at the library.

To be completely honest, I wasn’t ready to let anyone besides Dr. Salomon know that I have a job. I knew my family would freak out. They would say things along the lines of I wasn’t ready or how much of a terrible idea it was. Ultimately, we would all end up auguring and creating more tension between us. No, I’m not a fan of keeping secrets but if I don’t start making decisions based on what I want and what I think is going to benefit in the long run them what’s the point. It’s time that I stop living life for everyone else and I start living for me.

As I entered the library, I noticed how unusually quiet it was. I was a little surprised considering it was around lunchtime for the staff and faculty at the school and most of the workers from the local shops around town and they would usually be the library for their breaks. Though I was a little surprised, I was mostly relieved. I’m really worried about how my first day will go. Will I see someone I know? Will something happen to trigger me? Or will I just do such a terrible job today and end up losing it? All these thoughts and more spiraled around in my head as I made my way to Mrs. Whitaker’s office.

I knocked twice on her door before I heard a soft, “Come in.” I opened the door and allowed myself in.

“Good Morning, Dear. Early, as usual, I see.” Mrs. Whitaker said with a sweet smile as she glanced at the antique clock that was placed right above her office door.

“Good Morning. How are you.” I responded back.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” She responded back with a hint of sass.

I giggle slightly at her. Ah, she’s still the same old Mrs. Whitaker.

“Prue. Since it is a pretty slow day and it is your first day the task that I will assign you to will be pretty simple. I want you to go around the different sections and make sure that books are placed alphabetically where they belong. Then, I want you to go to the “Returned Books” bin and place them where they belong. Then I want you to place this art show flayers around the library. Lastly, I want you to hand up the Halloween decorations around the library and of course be ready and willing to help anyone who needs help finding something.” She ended her instructions with a smile.

I stood still and I listened to her speak about the assignments she wanted me to complete today. In reality, what she wanted me to do wasn’t challenging or demanding at all. However, I started to overthink about what she wanted me to do. What if I direct someone to the wrong place? What if I misplace a book or hang up signs in the wrong area?

“Prue.”

“Prue!”

“Uh. I got it.” I said as I was startled out of my jumbled thoughts.

Mrs. Whitaker then grabbed both of my hands in hers and spoke, “Prue. You are going to do great. You can do this. I hired because I know you have all the skills and capabilities to excel at this job and more. So, go out there and do what we both know you are more than capable.” She said encouragingly.”

Could I do this? I haven’t worked in months.

Before my thought began to spiral again, I felt a stack of papers being placed in my hands.

“These are the flyers. You can find some tape to hang them on the cart outside of my office along with the Halloween decorations. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” She said as I made my way outside of the office.

When I came to just about everything in my life I loved to be organized. So, of course, that includes my job. I planned out in my head where I wanted to start first. I figured that making sure that the shelved books were in order goes hand in hand with placing the returned books in their proper place. Which leaves hanging up the flyers and decorating which both require the use of tape so I will group those tasks together.

I then made my way over to the return bin in the front of the library. I then begin to place the books on the cart. Afterward, I took them and arranged them alphabetically by author and then neatly stacked in piles in the order by the aisle/genres they belong in. Next, I rolled the cart to the first aisle, then middle aisles, and finally the last one.

I glanced at the huge grandfather clock that was placed in the back of the library. It was only 12:15 PM. I still had roughly six hours until my shift was over and only two more tasks left to do. I couldn’t be so quick to hang up the flyers or decorations or I will be left with nothing to do for hours.

I decided that I would roll the cart around the library and perhaps someone would need my help. I walked up and down the library for about an hour before I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I jumped as I felt the hand tighten around my shoulder.

I let out a noise that was similar to a whimper as I began to shake slightly. A few seconds later, I felt the hand quickly detach itself from my shoulder. I turned around and faced the person that had touched me seconds ago. My eyes roamed his face as he spoke.

“I-I’m sorry. I- you work, here don’t you. I just wanted to know where I can find this book. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said.

My eyes narrowed as I began to step back until my back came against the cart I had been pushing around. I grabbed my shoulder as I closed my eyes and exhaled.

“It-it’s fine. I’m happy to help. Just please don’t touch me again.” I said sternly.

He nodded his head and kept his distance. Which I was relieved about.

He then proceeds to tell me the name and the author of the book. I immediately directed him to the section it would be located at. I didn’t even wait for his response before I quickly grabbed the cart and zoomed out of the aisle. I went to the back of the library and pulled the cart over to the side as I took a sip of water from the fountain.

I then racked my hands through my hair. Trying to erase what just happened to me.

It’s okay. He’s not Jaxson. That wasn’t him. He’s not here. I kept saying over and over in my head to try and soothe myself. I took a deep breath in and let it out quietly.

Get it together Prue. You’re at work. You-you got this.

I smoothed down my hair strands and brushed off my top and proceeded to get back to work. I decided that since it’s almost 1:30 PM I should get a start on placing the flyers around the library. I took small pieces of tape and began to place them on the cart (so that I didn’t have to hold the flyer and then try to rip off a piece of tape). I began with the back of the library. I placed each flyer about 7 ft apart so that they weren’t too close together but there were still enough of them being showcased.

Before I started the middle section of the library. I took one of the flyers and analyzed it. I would love to enter this contest. It would be a dream come true. But it’s been so long. Right now, I’ve just gotten back into art. I don’t think I have a chance of even getting past round one and to top it all of the themes is, “Self-Discovery” how ironic. Maybe this is a sign?

I continue to contemplate whether or not I wanted to enter the contest as I rolled the cart to the middle section of the library and began to hang the flyers. From this section on, I wanted to take my time placing the flyers up. Before I knew it an hour and forty-five minutes had past and it was 2:45 PM had past and I was in the front section of the library handing my last few flyers.

This is when Mrs. Whitaker approached me saying that I could take my lunch break. I didn’t bring any lunch with me. I wasn’t hungry anyway, but my feet did hurt a little. I decided to tape the last two flyers on the outside of the library doors and then go take a seat in my nook area.

I signed as I got comfortable in my nook area with my headphones in and as the playlist of my favorite music.

After a while, I looked down at my phone and saw that I only had five minutes left of my break. Boy, I couldn’t be gladder that my break was an hour-long. It helped to shorten the day and allowed me a moment to recharge. I got up and pushed the cart around this time placing the Halloween themed decals, lights, and posters around this section of the library.

I continued doing this until every part of the library was festively decorated. I looked around at the clock in the front section of the library and saw that it was 5:45. It took a while to hang up all of these decorations but I was proud of myself for doing so and I was glad it took so long because I wanted to go home. I thought I’d never say that.

“Prue!” I heard my name being yelled slightly. I turned my head in the direction I was being called and saw Mrs. Whitaker walk up to me.

“Before you get ready to go. I wanted to give this to you.” She said as she handed the art contest flyer to me.

“I-“I started to speak before she interrupted me. “Stop. Before you say anything. We both know how talented you are when it comes to art. Talent isn’t even the right word. It’s your gift. And you ought to be ashamed of yourself if you let an opportunity as big as this one pass and you don’t share it to the world.” She said with a stern tone as she stood with her hands on her hips.

“I gave her an unsure look, but I still took the flyer in my hands. “Oh, before I forget, that you come in at 8:00 AM and leave at 4:00 PM every day except Mondays from now on, this includes Halloween as well. And have a good night, get home safely.” She said as she turned to leave.

“Thank you. Goodnight, I hope you get home safe.” I said back and went to quickly put the cart back outside of her office.

As I exited out of the library, I had completely forgotten that I never told my parents I was going to be late for dinner. Fuck.

I quickly grabbed my phone. I didn’t see any messages from them which could only mean I’m screwed. I quickly texted them, that I was at the library still and was on my way home. I could only hope that they aren’t too angry at me. I really don’t want to fight or argue with them. Not now, not ever.

I sprinted home as quickly as I could. I arrived home in half the time that I usually would. I took deep breaths as soon as I reached the front lawn of my house.

I may be slim but I’m far from in shape that’s for sure.

I grabbed my keys and unlocked the front door. I entered the door and took off my sneakers. I listen out for any noise on the main floor of the house. I heard the sounds of small laughter. I quietly walked past the kitchen.

“Prue!” I heard my dad yell. I immediately stood up straight and hid the flyer behind my back.

“Hi, Dad,” I said trying not to sound suspicious.

“Why don’t you join your mother and me for dinner. We’ve just started.” He said with a smile on his face.

I looked between his face and my mother’s. They both seemed to be in a good mood. Which I don’t trust at all. I folded the flyer behind my back and placed it in my jean pocket.

“Okay, sure,” I said as I sat in my usual seat. I plated myself and began to eat the spaghetti and meatballs that sat before me.

“I’m sorry that I was late,” I said.

“That’s okay. Your mother and I get how important it is to you.” My dad said with a smile.

I didn’t really put too much thought into what he was saying. Like I said before dad was always the person that covered up everything. You would think that with him pretending all these years he would get rid of the signs that gave him away. For example, his posture is a little tense, he is smiling way too much, and he’s conducting small talking to try and maintain some peace.

My main focus was on my mother. She’s silent. Which is deadly in this household.

I wish we could have a normal dinner at this house. But I guess this is our normal.

“So… how was the library.” He asked. Here we go.

“It was fine. The same as it always is.” I responded back as I twirled some spaghetti around my fork.

“Come on, Pru-Pru there must be something you do at the library.” He said trying to get to further elaborate.

This is exactly what I’m talking about. My parents love to play games. Since I’ve come home they’ve said time and time again that they would do better. That they would try to understand and then they do this. This is their tag team game. Dad starts with his innocent nice guy act to try d lure you into admitting something. Then my mother will come in for the kill and start yelling, lecturing you, and accusing of things you didn’t do. But not this time. I refuse to let them continue to treat me like a child. As much as I despise it, I will play their game.

“Yeah dad, I read. You know at the library.” I said sarcastically.

“I’ve never heard of reading taking six hours Prue.” My mother chimed in coldly.

“Well, just because you never heard of it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Some people can finish a book in a day or even a short few hours. Why is that a problem?” I continue to say as I ate my food.

“Because it isn’t normal. No one spends days on end in the library and just reads only. There’s something else. Something else is going on.” She accused.

I remained silent as I continued to eat my food determined not to break my composure.

“Is there someone? A guy you like?” She pried.

My eyes widened as I stopped eating.

“What?” I said quietly.

“A man, Prue. Are you seeing some- “She said before I interrupted her. “No! Mom I’m not!” I yelled angrily.

“Prue, if you are, we need to talk about it. We- we know dating hasn’t been the same with you since Ja-.” She starts to say.

“No!” I said as I slam my hands on the dining room table. I push my seat out and stood up. “Don’t! Don’t you dare say that name! I-I’m not doing this shit right now.” I said enraged.

I walked away and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I quickly grabbed my medication and walked to my bathroom. I turned on the faucet and took the pill. I then walked over to my bed and laid down, trying not to think about my parents or Jaxson.

Thursday, October 31, 2019

I arrived at the library early as usual. So far this week, I have been doing pretty much the same things I have been doing since Monday, which was organizing books and helping out people who need it. I haven’t done much.

Today was Halloween and typically, the library would have some small events that catered to children such as read-aloud and giving out candy. I used to love being here and volunteering to do the read-aloud and give out candy but ever since my breakdown I’ve been afraid of interacting with anyone especially children. I scarred a child for life by blacking out on them. Right now, I can’t promise that won’t happen again.

I oftentimes wonder what happened to the child that I blacked out on. I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s doing well in school. I hope he’s happy. But… I guess I’ll never because I can’t go anywhere near him or the school.

Thinking about what transpired at work makes me feel as though I shouldn’t have children of my own. If I can’t get myself together why should I risk ruining another human’s life? Sometimes… at night when I can get some sleep, I dream about what life would be like when I’m healed when I finally take full control of my life when I’m finally happy. In those dreams, I have a huge family. I four kids. Two of each gender. They’re wonderful and they love me just as much as I do them and my husband is just as wonderful and amazing as they are. And he loves me for me.

If only my dreams could come true.

I continued to work up until my lunch break. Where again, I didn’t pack a lunch. I still have yet to get readjusted to eating lunch at a job. I spent my lunch break the same way I had been spending it these last couple of days, listening to music.

After my break ended Mrs. Whitaker asked me to place the candy in bowls and put them around the library and set up the read-aloud for later tonight. By the time I finished this, it was around 3:45 and I was about to go. I made sure to clean up after myself and put anything I used throughout the day back in the areas they belonged to. I then dropped by Mrs. Whitaker and wished her a happy Halloween and good night.

As I walked down the library steps, I began to walk my normal path. I walked for a few minutes until I heard “Yo! Detective!”

My eyebrows raised and my lips pursed out as I turned around to see Frank running my way. I stop in my tracks and looked at him. What’s he doing around here?

“Hi,” I said quietly still eyeing him slightly.

“What are you doing around here?” He asked. I should be asking you the same.

“Um, I live around here,” I said. I looked at him trying to see what smart thing he has to say about that. I may know little to nothing about him but I confident to say he knows where I live, especially if he lives with Mallory and Jahmal. But today was a good day, so I’ll play along.

“Really? I walk these parts all the time you know. I’ve never seen you around.” He said.

“Oh really? I was just about to say the same thing.” I said in the same tone as him. “So, were you just running or walking around, and then you coincidentally bumped into me?” I said playfully.

“Great minds think alike. And yes, I happen to be exercising out here. I was doing a mix of running, jogging, and walking. As you can see, I’m in excellent shape but you know I exercise to keep healthy.” He said.

My eyes roamed his body. “Hey, my eyes are up here.” He said jokingly. I looked away quickly, embarrassed that I was caught staring at his body.

“Anyways, I thought I’d keep you company. Especially on a night as spooky as this one.” He said.

I snorted at his joking manner and continued to walk. We walked for a few more minutes as we talked about random things that ended with him making jokes and puns that I enjoyed.

“What do you think of dinner food?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks and stared down at me.

“Um… I love diners. They’re my favorite.” I said shyly.

“Well, let’s go then.” He says as he begins to cross the street. “Wait, wait!” I yell as I catch up to him. He turns slightly and arches his right eyebrows and looks at me.

“You mean like right now, right now?” I asked starting to panic.

I wasn’t ready to be surrounded by people I know yet. What if I bump into someone I know? What if I breakdown. Oh God. Wait, the wait is this a date? What If it isn’t and it’s just some pity tactic. But what if it is? Regardless, I’m not ready!

“Yeah. I’m starving.” He said casually. I looked at him again with a more worried expression. His eyes roamed my face and then back up to my eyes.

“Look… if you’re worried about how you look. Then don’t, you look great.” He said making me feel flustered.

“And if you’re worried that anyone will bother you or we will see someone you used to know don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” He smiled at me with his charming smile as he tried to reassure me.

I gave him a small smile as I walked closer to him. I let him lead the way. I was curious to see how well he knew the neighborhood. After walking for several more minutes we arrived at Royals Diner. It looked the same as I remember as a kid. I remember dad would always take us here after the football games and Mallory was done cheering. Mom never came with us to the diner she said, “diner food is low-class”.

Frank held the door open for me. I thanked him as I walked through the door. He followed behind me. As I walked in, I wasn’t surprised to see the diner was packed and flooded with people of all ages dressed up in different Halloween costumes. Frank to a seat at a booth that was open. I sat across from him.

He grabbed his menu and so did I. I hadn’t had food here in such a long time. I looked over the menu and tried to see if they had my old favorite. I looked for a few more seconds before I found it. A Buffalo Chicken wrap with French Fries.

“Happy Halloween. What can I get you two?” The waitress asked. “Ladies first,” Frank responded. “Um, hi. I’ll take the Buffalo Chicken Wrap with French Fries and a glass of water.” I said.

“I’ll take Today’s special, the Cheesy Jalapeno PB & J Sandwich and a glass of milk to drown it down.” He said a little too casually for me.

The waitress scribbled our orders down as she walked away. My nose scrunched up slightly at what he ordered.

“I only ordered this sandwich because it sounded disgusting.” He said in response.

“So, I never got to get to know you that well the first time we meet or even last weekend.” He said.

I looked at skeptically. I was never one to open up. I’m a reserved person and I like it that way. But at the same time, Frank is different to me. I feel like he’s someone I can trust.

“So, I know at dinner we mentioned you got fired. Which seems strange. You seem like a smart and capable young woman. I’m just trying to logically piece together how that happened.” He said eyeing me.

I sit up in the booth and lean forward and say, “You want to know the truth?” I said. He leaned forward closer to me.

“Because I’m crazy. Crazy people don’t have jobs or friends. I got fired for having a mental breakdown. I got fired because I’m no good. I’m that one crazy bitch everyone keeps their distance from.” I said being as brutally honest as possible.

Before he could respond, I heard a loud crash followed by a voice yell, “You stupid bitch! I said Pepsi, not Coke and I ordered dark meat not white. How fucking hard is it to get the stupid order right!” The voice yelled.

I was immediately enraged by the scene I had just witnessed. Never, in my life, I have been the one to tolerate disgusting behavior like that.

I quickly turned around and placed my knees in both and yelled, “Just because you are not a service worker doesn’t mean you should make life harder for people in the industry!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

I then turned around and faced Frank again, “I’m usually a nice girl. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my temper.” I said laughing

“I see that.” He said as he laughed with me.

Before we could continue speaking, I heard large and rapid footsteps approach us. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but what happened back there was none of your business. I suggest you mind your business.” He said. I looked at him up and down in disgust. I hate bullies.

He looked at me back and moved closer. “Wait, wait!” He yelled as he began to laugh maniacally. “This is just too good. Prue Walker?” He stated as he leaned in closer. “Yeah, yeah that you. I’d recognized the psycho bitch that scared my kid brother for life anywhere.” He said as venom laced his words.

I sunk further in the booth as I started to feel ashamed of myself. Guilty. I felt like the worse person on earth. Here I was in a diner being publicly called out for something I did in the past. Something I can never change something that I tried to fix over and over again. But was never given the chance. I was never able to make it better.

“You have some balls to show your face in public again. I can’t- “He said before he was interrupted.

“Believe that you would dress like that. For God's sake, it’s Halloween you’re supposed to be scary, not regrettable. What are you like 16? 18? Dressing like Fred Durst. Someone tell this kid what year it is! You have the balls to say she should be ashamed. But have you looked in the mirror? You’re throwing tantrums about food like a two-year-old and parading around with this misogynistic attitude.” He said with confidence.

The young man looked stunned but continued to speak, “You don’t understand how I feel-“He said before being interrupted again by Frank.

“I don’t care how you FEEL about it… word of advice kid if you constantly go around blaming others for your problems you won’t get anywhere in life. You’ll be the same jerk that you are now. You’ll look back on life and you’ll be my age contemplating what went wrong and why was I stupid enough to fuck my own life up. It will be nobody’s fault but your own, oh… and by the way- life is not fair, just get used to it!!!” He said.

The young man narrowed his eyes and walked away. I continued to look down still feeling very ashamed of myself. I had lost my appetite and I just wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Let’s go,” Frank said and he got up from the booth. I followed closely behind him.

We walked out of the diner. I wasn’t sure where we were going but that wasn’t my main concern.

“Look. Cheer up. The things he was saying were some of the most idiotic things I've ever heard.” He said.

I looked up at him and said, “Stupid to you maybe… but nothing stops it from being true. What he said… I did all those things.” I said trying not to get emotional.

“Okay, so what if you did. What now?” Frank said. What now?

“For everyone asshole that there’s a hundred more. And for every mistake we make there’s a thousand more. So, you’ve made a mistake. I would be the biggest hypocrite if I judged you. Don’t be fooled by my irresistible charm, good looks, and brilliance… I’m no saint.” He said in a serious tone.

“But to be fair, you are crazy...but I like it.” He said as he laughed. I scrunched my face up at him as I rolled his eyes.

I guess I’ll have to get used to his type of humor.

“Now that you’re free from the bondage of the education system. What do you do now? It’s hard to come by jobs that pay that well.” He asked.

“Money is not that important to me. I think that with success, happiness and satisfaction comes the money. Money is not the goal but the means or a sidekick.” I said.

“Ah, you’re a firm believer of passion over practical. Then how did you end of here?” He asked.

“Doing what others wanted me to do. You know, just because I love science, psychology, philosophy, medicine, etc. and just because I am both good at numerical subjects and social subjects doesn’t mean that I have to be a doctor, nurse, engineer, or psychologist.” I said.

“What is your passion then.” Frank inquired.

“Well, I love art and I love helping those in need. If I could have my art studio and hold art classes or be an art therapist and work out of my studio that would be a dream come true.

“What about you? You work with Jahmal don’t you? I can never imagine. you’re a brave man, Charlie Brown.” I said as I referenced the Peanuts comics.

“And don’t forget smart, innovated, and sexy.” He said as he laughed.

I chuckled, “So what does my brother-in-law have you doing all day?” I asked.

“I think you mean to say what doesn’t he have me do.” He said as he rolled his eyes.

“I do everything yet, I’m just his assistant. He needs my reassurance on every business move he makes in addition to that he takes all my business ideas and markets them as his own. In reality, he’s just the face. Honestly, at this point, I’m there for the check and the once in a while free sports tickets I get.” He said almost nonchalantly.

The more he spoke about working for Jahmal the more I got curious as to what he was doing before he moved in with them. How did he end up there? What was his life before he moved back here? And why have I never known of his existence till now? I wanted to know the answers to these questions and more, but I didn’t want to be invasive or too blunt with him. We continued to walk and talk about our interest and sharing random facts we knew about things until he paused and stopped walking. “Um, I just wanted to thank you for…standing up for me,” I said shyly.

“It was nothing. I told you I was going to handle it. And I always honor my commitments and promises.” Frank said.

I smiled at him.

“Have a goodnight detective.” He said as he walked off. I looked around and realized that we were outside of my house.

“Um, good-goodnight!” I yelled as I stuttered. Ugh, I’m such a loser. I said as I unlocked the front door of my house.

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Links to:

Chapter 6

Masterpost

I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!

@pettycruella @jk-unless @plussizeappreciationfics @passionfrvttt @melaninhawtie @lokisbitch27 @blackpridesblog @po-taytay @themilkcartoonkid @amethyst09 @disaster-shadow @rosemilage @tinydramatist @amethyst09 @kween-beast @dene-jordan @dreaminglosssy @treesstill @victoriastefanie04 @wildandjeune @shehassomuchsoul @beastcoastbitchez @blackpridesblog@winchwm @jnspencer19 @jaydeee86 @whoawhoawhoanow @missminnie-123 @donut-crazs @dene-jordan @dreaminglosssy @meleekabenjamin @nerdymugsharkempath @rozseee @nia--omi @uniquehoneyxo @minordeitea @highasfantasy @samfiftyfour-literary @willy-wonka-is-my-soul-animal @amusement14 @aaliyah031103 @kyaikoo @chopbabii @lyle2727-blog @brooklynjaydeallen @thisssguyyy22 @isaacsrobot @sajaeren @becausewelie @princessscornbread and any members of the group chat Black!Reader.

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