#also binders are so expensive god fucking damn

[trenchcroats]

One day I will have a binder. One day I will come out to my parents. One day I will be comfortable in my own skin. One day-

[dhajetii]

So I would like to share what finally cracked my egg and kinda made me go “oh shit” and couldn’t shove the gender crisis back into the closet anymore. For context: AFAB, rest is under the cut.

The final straw that broke the camels back was Eddie fucking Munson. That nerdy metal head from season 4 of Stranger Things. That little shit (affectionate) ruined my “If I ignore the Problem Maybe It Will Go Away” mentality on my gender identity. Which is something I still find entertaining.

Long story short I had a dream where I ended up in a romantic relationship with Eddie, except the role of “me” was played by a me that had transitioned (binding my chest and just starting t therapy). And it felt correct. Even after I woke up and the dream lingered for a bit it just felt totally normal? It didn’t really come crashing down until I was getting dressed for work and I was like “wait a god damn minute”

The following weeks contained a lot of journaling, just writing thoughts down without overthinking them just being open with myself then going back the next day and reading them again to see if anything else came to mind. I don’t really wanna get into what those thoughts and self-revelations actually were, but maybe I will later idk.

I also did a lot of research on ftm stuff. Read about hrt, prowled around various trans and non-binary subreddits reading other peoples experiences and got a feel for what I found relatable and what I didn’t find relatable.

Ended up deciding I don’t actually wanna start any kind hormone stuff, but that could change in the future, but that binding is something I absolutely wanna do (and top surgery sounds intimidating and a process I don’t wanna do). Found out that as a rather small-chested person I feel comfy in a sports bra or compression top that I can find at clothing stores in town and don’t need to invest in an expensive binder (tried one and ordered the wrong size and it’s way too tight and now I’m nervous about ordering anything online). Also chopped my hair off and got a kind of boy-ish kind of gender neutral cut that I’m very happy with.

The only issue I’m still struggling with is pronouns because idk what I like using?? I’m not too picky about it?? I’ve discovered so long as no one refers to me as “girl” in a present tense im okay (which now that I’m aware, it comes up quite a lot from my coworkers). Which segues into another thing for me: I’m currently 27 years old and for the first like 20-something years of my life I identified as female and I still feel that was correct for me THEN. Can’t say when or why it shifted, but it has and NOW *shrug* now I’m definitely something in the realm of non-binary or trans or genderqueer or Demiboy (if I feel like getting really specific and not using an umbrella term). This is a journey I’m still on but I’m finally feeling comfortable within my own skin in a way I haven’t felt since I was 17 and had the “oh shit I’m asexual” lightbulb moment (even tho I didn’t actually know or use that term until a couple years after that) but that’s an entirely different rabbit hole and blog post that I may or may not do.

[limetameta]

23? 25, 26? 🧡

23. describe the physical environment in which you write. be as detailed as possible. tell me what’s around you as you work. paint me a picture.

There's a desk that's not really a desk, but also a dinning table and a place to cry on and a surface to carve out and a storage unit to store things onto. The one thing that doesn't change is the placement of the laptop, everything else can change but that's eternal. Countries will fall and change names, but this laptop will remain there until the end times. Right next to the desk that's not only a desk but so many other things simultaneously is a vertical library. Dear god how many things that thing has. It's a similar situation with the desk. Books in English and French and Spanish and Montenegrin and Serbian and Russian and Slovenian and Bulgarian craft tall walls. There are three boxes for glasses, souvenirs from travelling- because while magnets will just take up space, surely boxes for glasses will always be a practical expense? All the way on top are binders full of documents. Each binder has a specific use. They're colour coded. The dust on the library is thick enough to choke a man to death. Perhaps I am poisoned by the proximity bit by bit, yet the more you clean the more the dust accumulates. We will see who will survive the test of time - me or the dust.

Behind the desk is a TV from the 90s. It's got that fat back. ''What's in the back, limeta?'' You ask.

I answer, the fear obvious in my voice: ''I don't know. The picture's clear, though. And it's in colour so we will not disturb the TV. It's a wedding gift to my divorced parents, if the tales are to be believed. It's older than I am. The TV is a veteran that has survived the civil war. We must be nice to the TV.''

The walls are smudged with age and an inability to find a handyman to paint the walls because the tourist season is high and the handymen are all busy. A light is above the desk that's not only a desk and at nighttime I see the flies and moths dance their dance. When they fall onto the desk I take one of the books and slam the shit out of the bugs until they think better of disturbing me again.

A radiator is next to the desk. It's not needed now, but there's no other place for it anymore. Come winter time it will be moved closer and closer and closer until it will be right next to the computer.

For now, though, when it's not afternoon and the computer isn't in the middle of the insistent summer sunlight, I sit down and write, feeling my fingers glide across the keyboard with such tremendous ease.

25. what is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

Thoros Nott watches soap operas on the TV with Theodore Nott. It's their favourite father-son bonding activity. Thoros Nott will be DAMNED if he ever lets any of his blood purist friends and family know he has a muggle TV in Nott Manor.

26. how do you get into your character’s head? how do you get out? do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

I do regret going in TMR's head for Retired Prometheus. Ngl that made me really fucked up emotionally. I was at my worst psychologically when I was writing the Fucked Arc of Retired Prometheus. It took so much out of me emotionally. Just, in general, the detail I went into exhausted me. I'll remember Retired Prometheus fondly, but I won't remember writing it fondly at all.

How to get into a head of a character? My dude, it's how you're supposed to get into your own head first that's important. Everything I've written I've had to envision first and I've had to understand. You can't write without understanding the subject matter first. The thing about write what you know type of advice is that I don't agree, exactly. I think the more apt way of putting it would be write what you UNDERSTAND.

[clementinesjourney]

Still the mouth opens...

AN.: Sorry for this. i'm just.. horny. and yea.. so.. sorry not sorry. :D

Warnings: smut without any real story. just like.. yea.. porn.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You are a feared lawyer around NYC, but you aren't as bad as Bucky and Steve thought..

Steve and Bucky owned a lawfirm, probably the biggest in the city with the most influence. They were currently listening to one of their biggest clients, Tony Stark, about his situation. A new, but ruthless regardless lawyer flew under the radar, and is currently representing a family that has something against him. Bucky wasn't really paying attention after Stark dropped a whole binder full with information on this lawyer. This wasn't new occurence, they sometimes had to play dirty, so they liked to prepare well, know everything of the lawyer at the other desk.

You won all your cases, no exception. You were ruthless, you graduated with perfect grades, you didn't come from a wealthy family, matter of fact, you worked hard so you'd be able to pay for your studies. That was 5 years ago. Now, in your early 30s, you were an accomplished and well respected woman. Most lawyers in the city feared you. They knew if you were at the other desk, they had absolutely no chance of winning regardless of the case. You were cold, confident, and succesful. There were no information on your private life. As if it was nonexistent. Also no connections to any of the big lawfirms... You were a freelancer, just cause you could. Bucky looked at the picture of you walking on the street in your perfectly tailored dress and your perfect fucking heels, your locks falling over your shoulders, red lipstick on point. He was amused. All your life was right before him, yet he felt like nobody knew anything of you. Grades and upbringing certainly wasn't all that was there about someone. And damn he needed to know more.

-....So now they are suing me for this bullshit, and they fucking have that fckin demon on their side. If anybody can save my ass it's you guys.

Bucky sent a half smile towards Steve. He nodded, and called his secretary.

-Nat, please set up a meeting with Miss (Y/L/N).

-Already tried Steve, she said if you want to meet her, you'll have to call yourself. - she said, hiding the smile. She adored her bosses, but a woman putting them in their place... God, she wished she could be there for the trial.

Bucky chuckled, as Steve sighed and took out his mobile to call you.

After a few rings you picked up, of course you had the biggest names in your phone already. You loved how they stammered when they first called you and you knew exactly who would call. It gave you power before the first exchanged words.

-Mr. Rogers, how generous of you to call.. - you said rather seductively, already smiling cheekily, knowing just how much he is taken aback.

-... ah um.. Yes Miss (Y/L/N) i was hoping to set up a meeting regarding the.. uh.. Stark case.

-Are you sure Mr. Rogers? You don't sound too confident in your words. Let me help you out. I'll swing by at 5 pm today, please gather your words until then. My time is expensive. - you hung up.

Bucky chuckled in the back, while Stark just sighed. Steve just stayed quiet, shocked even. Never once dared anyone speak to him like that. He expected a kind, soft woman, whos helping the poor in need, maybe even volunteer on the weekends. You sounded absolutely ruthless, taking no shit, and it moved something in him.

After Stark left, him and Bucky sat on the couch of his corner office, looking over the city, with whiskey in hand.

-She's intriguing..

-You say brother?.. I couldn't fcking talk. For the first time in 15 years i fucking stammered.

They heard a light chuckle from behind them. They slowly looked at eachother, then at their watches.

-Fuck. - muttered Steve as he stood up, prepairing his most charming smile. Perhaps trying to seduce you would work in their favours.

-By all means, sit. -You said dismissively, as you walked over to the other couch in front of them, dropping a file on the coffee table, before helping yourself to Bucky's whiskey from his hand.

They just watched you in silence, jaws dropped. You walked in like you owned the place. If it weren't them owning it they would certainly believe your facade.

You downed the whiskey in one.

-Well if you're not gonna read it then.. My client wants 100 millions, to not go to court. Leave it or take it. -you stood up, picking up your handbag, before standing in Bucky's face. -offer stands for 3 days. See you boys. - you handed him his glass back, and he smiled at you amused, before you walked out.

Nat came in with the biggest smile on her face, slowclapping.

-I can't believe a woman made you all go mute. It's the best day of my life.. She's my new role model.

-Fuck off Nat..

-Oh cmon, did i hurt your ego? Even more than that..

Bucky on the couch scoffed.

-Stark's never gonna agree.

-He'll lose more if we go to court, and you know that.

-Time to dig some shit up. - Bucky said with a smile.

He called his contact, telling you that usually you spend wednesday nights at a club nearby.

When he arrived he immediatly spotted you. Middle of the dancefloor, all alone, swaying to the music. He bought two whiskeys, and headed straight to you.

-I'm not working currently Mr. Barnes. - you said as you swayed your hips, taking one whiskey from his hand, shooting it back immediately. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him with a finger on his lips.

-Now we dance. - you said, and he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you. Damn that smile could melt every single piece of lingerie off any girl in town. Under any other circumstance you'd surely take him home, and not let him talk at all. God you hated when men talked. Usually you found that the most handsome men were just disappointing when they talked.. So you usually went home alone. It was a rare occassion when they could keep up a conversation without mansplaining and thinking you're just some not too intelligent, workaholic damsel. After the song ended you headed to your booth in the back without looking at Bucky at all. One of the waiters immediately went to take your order. Bucky sat in your booth, so you ordered two more whiskeys.

-So what is it that you want Mr. Barnes? - you asked as you lit a cigerette.

-Just happened to be here the same time as you.

-See that's where you're wrong. When i took over the Stark case, i knew whatever lawyers he would get would try and dig where they shouldn't. I'm squeaky clean, and you see this isn't even my regular club. I started to come when i noticed your little birdie following me. So try not to lie too much, it's not a good look on you. - you said taking a sip from your drink.

He chuckled to himself, brushing a hand through his hair, before licking his lower lip. This alone made you clench your thighs together, but he didn't have to know that.

-Then let's say you intrigue me so much. You're an open book, yet nobody really knows anything of you. And i want to know more.

You just chuckled and stood up, putting out your cigarette as you went back to the dancefloor. He was hot on your heels, hands landing on your hips from behind you, swaying together to the music again.

-Not big on talking hmm? - he whispered in your ear, lips barely touching your earlobe. If the music would be lower he could've hear your breath hitch as you closed your eyes, before turning in his arms, your hands snaking around his neck, to play with his hair on the back of his head. Earning another carming smile from him.

-You see Mr. Barnes, some men have a good look...all they have to do is keep their mouth shut and they can take home any prize they want.. - Bucky hummed with a smile, hands holding your hips a bit thighter, thinking he won.You leaned close to his ear and whisper while putting a hand on his cheek - Still... the mouth opens.. - you smiled at him before planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Then you left. You immediately got in a cab, so he had no other chance to talk to you that day. He laughed at himself. He only met you twice, and he absolutely shouldn't fall for you, but he already is.

Then you left. You immediately got in a cab, so he had no other chance to talk to you that day. He laughed at himself. He only met you twice, and he absolutely shouldn't fall for you, but he already is.

The next two days are spent trying to convince Stark to take the deal. He could lose much more if you wipe the floor with them at court.

On your end, you had a strong case and nothing to worry about. At least regarding the case. You found yourself thinking more and more of Bucky, how his hands felt on your hips, how he smiled at you, how his breath tickled your ear as he lowly whispered into your ears. How you had to clench your thighs together when he looked at you. You loved this game, but you shouldn't have. Not with him, not when your client depended on you to win this case from them... with Bucky at the other desk. It was so wrong.

Your phone rang, it was 7 pm, and your friend Wanda said she'll be away for the week with his boyfriend. The phone read Bucky Barnes.

You hesitated but took to call.

-Mr. Barnes..

-Miss (Y/L/N), i hoped that you're free tomorrow. I have two tickets for an art show.

-I'm sure you have many pretty ladies standing at your door you can choose from Mr. Barnes.

-It's Bucky.. call me Bucky.. and yes i do, but either of them is you.

-Why would it be me? We are on the opposite ends of a big case. Even if i wanted to go to this art show, it is a conflict, and i'm not willing to risk any case for the sake of my own amusement.

-Stark took the deal.

-Great we'll sign the papers tomorrow then.

-Still no to the art show? - he asked cockily, that earned a smile from you. - I am certain i can win you over even with my talking.

-Didn't know you were big on arts Barnes..

-I have a degree in art history, as a matter of fact, i was just graduating when you got there as a first year.. I'm just as much into art as you (Y/L/N)..

-I can't promise anything Bucky. - you said, then hung up. You both smiled to yourselves.

The next day Steve saw Bucky pacing his office, wearing cologne, hair perfectly placed.

-Tell me it is not what i think it is..

-What?

-You smiled an awful lot in the past few days, you wear your most expensive suit, your hair is perfectly held in place, you wear the cologne you only wear after winning a case, and now.. you're burning a path in your carpet...

-I just want this case to go well. We couldn't really afford to lose one this big. If it means i have to seduce that witch out there, cause we both know that Stark will never fucking agree to sign the deal, i'll damn well do it. There is a price being the top firm in the fucking city Steve. - just as Bucky finished his sentence he saw the shocked look on Steve's face, and his eyes flickering to something... someone behind him. Bucky didn't need to turn around, nor he dared to do so.

-We'll meet at court. - was all you said as you turned around and walked out of the office.

You were used to this. Literally every young lawyer tried to pull this trick, and until Bucky you always ignored their every attempt. You desperately hoped this isn't a trick, but well.. lawyers huh? It still sting.

You heard Buckys steps behind you, but you just stormed away, hailing a cab. You refused to let anyone see you cry. You went home, filled out the form, and submitted to court. You called your client about the dates. You were going to wipe the floor with them, and take all the money you can from Stark. At this point you were a feminist goddess of new york, wiping the court with moping men. Overthrowing the best firm in New York would be the top of the mountain. You were set out to kill.

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

A week later you walked into court in a new, classy, white dress, blood red heels. Everybody was in there, all eyes shoot to you as you walked in confidently smiling at your client.

You set your case expertedly, the judge set a break for lunch.

Steve approached you as you were getting coffee.

-Mr. Rogers..

-Miss (Y/L/N), i was hoping to talk to you.

-We have nothing to talk about.

-Yes we do, it is lowly of me to even ask at this point but will your client take 50 million in cash today, and drop the case? I am very well aware that this is nothing compared to what they could get by the end of the day, but aside Stark's stupidity, i could not afford to lose a case this big, the firm can't afford it.

-You could've easily build a case just as good as mine if you weren't so busy sending your lawyers to try and seduce me in order to drop the case. In 30 minutes the judge will tell the verdict, which i'll probably win, when if you look closely between the lines was just a bunch of bullshit. You see Mr. Rogers, i can build a case just fine while the enemy is busy taking small doors, and dirty ways to undermine me. Now if you'll excuse me..

-Come work at my firm. I'll make you partner.

-What a charming offer Mr. Rogers, you're inviting me to a sinking ship?

-It wouldn't sink with you on board.

-Oh yea, and i wanna see Barnes's sulking face from my office, thank you. - you said chuckling as you left.

When you arrived in the courtroom again you indeed saw Bucky's sulking face. Your phone vibrated on the desk, it was a message from Bucky. You shoved it to your bag. You'll read it when you're home.

The verdict was 250 million to your client. You shook hands, then looked at Bucky and Steve, both sulking, for different reasons. You felt good with your victory, however, you weren't the heartless cold bitch New York made you out to be. You knew if you didn't help them, you'd put not just them but many of their staff on the street, and you weren't one to let that happen. Noone innocent needed to suffer cause of one dickhead lawyers, and a dickhead client of the firm.

On your way to the cab, you called Steve.

-I have one condition.

-What is it?

-You drop Stark.

-Done.

-See you tomorrow at 9. Better have my office ready. - was all you said before hanging up.

Steve spent the most of the afternoon using his own money to furnish an office in the far corner. It was looking over Central Park, it belonged to Peggy once, before she left to play family with some guy. Bucky didn't know of the deal, so he was quite surprised at the refurnishing.

-You know we are going to shut down right bud?

-We won't Bucky.

-and how come? We lost the case.

-and we have a new partner. guess cold heart or not, innocent people won't end on the street today. - Steve said, Bucky seemingly not undertsanding what he meant. That is until he heard a pair of heels behind him. There you were walking like you own the place. Which apparently 1/3 you did now. Saving them from bankruptcy.

-Good, now if you'd leave me to my work... - Steve chukled as he turned to leave, Bucky just stood there, jaw dropped.

-Can we talk (Y/n)? -Bucky asked

-No, now don't let the door hit on your way out.- you dismissed him cruelly. You put down your walls for a minute, and the first thing he does is breaking your heart. Yes he broke your heart, you didn't even know he had it even the slightest. You found yourself longing for something, for someone to come home to, and for a minute you believed he could be that someone. Aside from his ways, he did find out about your art history degree, and your love for art, he did tried to take you out on multiple occasions. But that all went down the drain with the pieces of your heart when you heard him say those things to Steve. Seducing you so you'd let the case fail. You never opened the message he sent you in the court room. You could feel him looking at you from his office over the hall. His eyes bored a hole on your temple. A soft knock on the door took your focus away. There was a man in a suit, with the biggest smile you seen lately. You nodded with a small smile of your own, letting him come in.

-Hey Miss, I'm Sam, I'm a third year intern, i'm taking the bar next month, Steve assigned me to be your assistant, so i could learn from the best around here.

-So excited.. Well Sam, welcome on board. and please call me (Y/n). Now sit. Here, read these documents, we'll argue it out after lunch. - you smiled at him. Your little broken heart fluttered as he smiled at you, as if you were some kind of goddess. Not all of them are bad you thought.

His ideas were right for the most part, however as you expected a bit too much on the surface.

-You should never put all your cards out at once. It is best if you already won your case and you still have cards left in your pocket. If the client has the means, and is not satisfied with the verdict, they will subpoena your ass off, so you need to be ready.

-Is that how you won the Stark case? - he looked at you with sparkling eyes.

-Oh ya bet it is. - you winked at him, then heard Steve chuckle in the door.

-What are you laughing at i had you in my pocket. - you smiled at him.

-Don't believe everything she says Sam, she admitted to me that it was a bullshit case, but Bucky was too busy doing dirty shit to notice.

-Bullshit or not, i still had the cards in my pocket. - you winked.

-Oh c'mon what cards?

-Let's say we did lose the case. I would've subpoena your asses with the record of Bucky admitting to you that he tried to seduce me in order for me to drop the case, so you wouldn't lose your little firm. I believe i wouldn't have to tell Sam here why is it serious, and why you'd want to always stay on my good side so the record never gets out. - you smiled at Steve flirtily.

-God, i think i'm in love. - said Sam under his nose. Earning a chuckle from you and Steve.

-On that note, i would like to take you out to dinner,as the new partner of the firm. -said Steve, voice surprisingly low, too low for your own good. You weren't blind okay? He was tall, muscly, blonde, blue eyes, and that beard... ugh. now put a low voice on top of that and you'd be on your knees, doing what they asked like a good girl. Under all this confident. girlboss skin, there was this eager, needy, bratty girl, who just wanted to be good for her man... if only she'd find him. It was hard to find someone who'd love his girlboss side just as much as the obedient plaything.

-Okay - you said shakily. Something told you it wasn't just as the new partner of the firm. What you said to Bucky about handsome men talking, or keeping their mouth shut was true.. but when he or Steve talked in their low voices... it always ended with wetness pooling between your legs, ruining more lace than you would like to admit.

After work, you decided you'd stay and do some more. It was dark outside, only three offices lit up at the firm. You, Bucky and Steve. You saw Steve saying goodbye to Bucky, then head for your office.

-Ready?

-Just a moment. - you said as you finished up, turned off your laptop.

Bucky's blood boiled as he saw you leave with Steve all smiles and giggling. You didn't even let him explain himself.

Steve took you to a dimly lit restaurant. He ordered wine for you both.

-Way to charm your way in Rogers..

-I'm just happy.. and thankful that you didn't let us sink.

-I may be ruthless in court, but i'm not one to let 20+ people lose their income because of a dick.

-Dick?

-You always seem to forget that Barnes tried to seduce me, so i'd make mistakes with the Stark case.

-Not to undermine what i've built up, but did you ever opened the text he sent in court? Or let him explain?

-No i did not. I heard enough empty sorries and bullshit excuses to last a lifetime. Altho i find it quite amusing that you brought me out to a nice dinner, bought me one of the best wines around, and still talk of me hearing out your buddy.

-Oh i am very much planning on sweeping you off of your feet if you want me to, but he is a good guy, and i know for a fact that he never once got his eyes on somebody before you. I've known him for a long time, i know when he lies, and he was lying that day.

-I really need to ask again, are you here to campaign for him or you want something else? At this point i am certain it's not a welcome party. - you asked as you stood up, waiting for his answer, ready to just leave.

He sighed took one of your hand, yanking you closer, right in between his legs, his face was right in front of your cleveage, he put an arm to the back of your thigh.

-Something else then.. brat... - he said in his low voice,and he felt you clench your thighs together, making him chuckle. He stood up, urging you out of the restaurant with a hand on the small of your back, straight to his car. He opened the door for you, then went for the driver's side. As you sat next to him while he drove, you couldn't help but squirm. This was the kind of excitement you missed.

-Be a good girl and stop squirming. -he said and you bite back a whimper. You stopped regardless. His hand found your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you wanted it.

-Such a good girl... now if i inch up a bit more... tell me.. will i find you all wet and ready for me? - you blushed and just nod, biting at your own finger in order not to moan. He slapped the inside of your thigh then kneaded it.

-Now.. that's not too nice baby.. i need to watch the road.. use your words, or do i need to check for myself?..

You felt bratty.. two can play this game.

-You can check for yourself if you're that curious..

-Bratty still i see.. i'm afraid we're starting off with punishments then.. - he said as his fingers slowly travelled closer to your core. He ever so slightly run a finger over your clothed nub, making you whimper, wanting more. Then he took his hand away. You whined, and that made him chuckle lowly.

-Now you're gonna take that sweet little hand of yours, and you're gonna circle your sweet little nub until we reach my apartment, but don't you dare to cum. Panties stay on, i want you to ruin them.. - and you did as he told. You somehow felt safe with him, as you could trust him. Soon enough you really really tried hard to bite back your moans, you were so close.. You all but prayed that you were close to his apartment. When your fingers on your clit, and his hand kneading, caressing your thigh was nearly too much, you felt the car stop. He got out, went to your side, and took your hand to lead you inside. Of course he had to live on the top floor, the elevator ride is going to be way too long for your liking. He caged you at the back of the elevator, nose running along your jawline, your neck, hands around your waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your breath hitched. And he chuckled dangerously close tot hat sweet little point under your earn that absolutely turned the bratty girl off, and replaced her with the good girl, needy for praises. By the time you reached his floor, you were desperately grinding on his thigh, which he placed between your legs. He did not kiss you yet, and you didn’t really mind. Having sex was a thing, but kissing was entirely another. Kisses carry emotions. You couldn’t afford that. When the elevetor dinged, signaling that you arrived to his floor, you were let in to a lavish apartment, king size bed ont he gallery, couch facing the night lights of the city through the floor to ceiling windows. You slowly took in the apartment, as he chuckled a little bit away from you. Your eyes shoot to him, and the look of adoration on his face made you forget about the apartment, and focus on only the lingering excitement, and the need to cum, as you were on edge for way too long.

-Come here baby.. – he said, and you slowly walked over to him, enchanted. You stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something. He light le tapped his thighs, and you smiled shyly as you climbed to straddle him. Your perfectly tailored dress, sliding up your thighs, revealing your lacy stockings, the garthers, he hummed while his hands slid along them, and stopped cupping your backside. You threw your head back, as he kneaded it, while kissing over your collarbones.

-Steve… - you sighed.

-What baby?.. Use your words…

-Need you to touch me… Please…

-Hmm.. where’s the brat from earlier?.. Asking so nicely.. how could i refuse.. – and you felt his hands travel under your dress, caressing your skin, before one going down to circle your clit. He ran his thumb along your clothed fold, making you whimper, as he smiled at how soaked you were already.

-Need more.. please.. Steve.. need more.. – you said as you grinded on his fingers, wanting more.. so so much more..

-Let’s take this off first.. -he said, unzipping your dress. And you let him. He took in the red lacey goodness before him. Your lingerie hugged you in the perfect places, he was in awe, even more when you looked at him under your lashes, with a shy smile.

-Damn.. did you know we’d end up here?

-Don’t flatter yourself, i wear these kind of things every day, makes me feel the badass woman i am.. – you smirked, slowly grinding on the growing buldge in his pants. He sighs, and helds you thighter over him, nose sliding over your neck, teasing you so sweetly.

-Badass indeed… - he said as he peppered your neck with kisses, while his hand urged your soaked panties tot he side, fingers gathering your slick from your folds, thumb rubbing your clit. – and bratty as hell…. – he added as a whisper to your skin, as he inserted a finger, making you arch your back and moan.

A finger wasn’t quite what you wanted but you’d take anything at this point.

-You want to come don’t you baby?. – you just hummed between moans. – too bad.. brats don’t get to cum.. – then he took his fingers away. You opened your eyes and looked at him furiously.

-I’m pretty sure good ol Barnes had let me come a few times by now.. - you said raising an eyebrow.. If he wants a brat he gets it.

-I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t.. you know.. between the two of us, i’m the more merciful.. although i’m quite offended that you’re thinking of him while grinding on my fingers, so desperate to cum…

-You know Stevie.. i wouldn’t think of anybody if you’d let me cum.. i’ve been good, i edged all the way here, and i can feel you being hard under me.. i know you want it too… why don’t just give in..

-Well sweetheart… i’ll make you cum, when you took your punishment.. but if you want i can call Buck over and you can try your luck…

-What do you mean call over?

-Oh honey.. we live in the same apartment.. He’s sleeping in his room… He might wake up to your moaning though.. Do you want that? –your skin was full of goosebumps, then he insterted two fingers back, steadily pumping in and out of you ont he couch in the middle of his shared apartment.. You tried to bite back the moans, but he pumped mercilessly, and it was hard to not be loud.. You were ont he edge so many times, you’d beg for his cock at this point.

-Steve… please…

-Please what baby?

-Take me to your room and fuck me..

-Why my room, you were perfectly fine with the couch until now.. – he teased

-I just.. i.. Bucky.. you know.. he.. ugh..

-Getting shy now baby? You have no reason.. I’m sure he’d love to watch you fall apart.. doesn’t matter if it’s his cock or mine.. Maybe some other time we woulkd even share… - you clenched around his fingers at his words.. Hi chuckled and bite your skin, while pumping in and out of you still, curling his fingers just right..

-I can feel you clenching baby.. you’d like that wouldn’t you.. The famous, coldhearted lawyer… falling apart between the best lawyers in the city…

-I’m the best.. – you moaned into the crook of his neck.. and you failed to hear a door opening, and Bucky coming to sitt o the opposite couch, watching Steve have his way with you.. Steve on the other hand, sent a playful wink to his friend.

-What me to make you feel good baby? Want to cum all over my fingers? – he cooed.

-Yes please.. make me cum Steve.. please..- you plead.

-I have one condition though..

-Anything Stevie…

He chuckled at how cockdrunk you already were.. how eager just to be able to cum.. It was sure a sight he’d love to see everyday..

-You’ll turn around and spread your legs wide for Buck to see… then when he’s finished playing with you, i’ll make you cum until you beg for me stop.. how does that sound?

-But he’s sleeping.. this isn’t fair… - you said, whimpering, grinding on his fingers for more friction.

-Oh i’m not sleeping angel.. – a voice echoed behind you. You stopped moving, looking at Steve in shock, however he did not stop moving, curling his fingers inside of you. He chuckled, and kissed your neck, then turned you around in his lap, so you were now facing Bucky, legs spread apart by Steve, panties tucked to the side, glistening pussy on display.

-Hmm… i wonder if she tastes as good as she looks… - said Bucky as he edged closer to you, kneeling before you, hot breath fanning over your needy core.

-No cumming doll… - he said before licking over your fold, straight to your clit, where he drew a little circle, making you moan out loud, your hands over your head, playing with Steve’s hair, as he whispered praises in your ears, placing gentle kisses over and under your ear, your neck, your shoulder, your arms.

You were so close.. You thought about not letting them know you’re close, just so they’d let you over the edge, and you’d deal with the consequences later… yet.. the good girl wanted to be good for them..

-Please.. let me cum.. please..

-Mmm… Stevie.. do you think we should let her cum?

-Mm… she was pretty bratty earlier… i don’t know.. your call…

-Bratty you say?.. - he asked before licking another fat stripe along your folds, before inserting two fingers.. – so tight… god.. … I think she should come.. in fact… she should be begging for us to stop… -he said with a smirk, before removing his fingers, and as you were about to adjust yourself to see him take off his clothes, Steve held your legs further apart, and somehow locked your arms ont he way, so you were displayed to Bucky, without the possibility of moving. You were at the mercy of them and you loved every minute of it. You watched as Bucky pumped his thick, girthy cock a few times, before gathering up your slick, and slowly sinking into you. You’ve never felt so streched out.

-Bucky.. – you moaned as he slowly started to move in and out.. He was hitting every spot perfectly, and with you being ont he edge for so long, the pleasure almost pained you. Tears pricked your eyes, as you looked him in the eyes.

-Oh don’t cry pretty baby.. – he said, wiping the tear off. He increased his pace, and Steve let go of one leg, to circle your clit. You practically screamed in pleasure.

-Cum on my dick doll, cum all over it.. want you to make a mess.. – and you did so.. you nearly passed out as white hot pleasure took over you, and you trembled in the arms of Steve, while Bucky mercilessly pumped in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm. As you came down from your high, Bucky leaned down to press a kiss ont he corner of your lips, but you turned and kissed him. You were far too gone to care. The kiss did it for him. Finally being able to kiss you after seeing you all giggly with Sam, and Peter.. the interns.. God it made his blood boil still, even when you were kissing him so sweetly.

-I need another taste… Steve do you want to… ?

-Don’t even ask… - he said as he took off his pants with you still on top of him, and inserting his member to your needy hole, still fully on display to Buck. He took a few moments to adore the way your pussy sucked Steve in, how your juices glistened in the moonlight. He kneeled down again, and started to circle your clit with his tongue, while Steve pounded into you with a steady pace. You couldn’t say a word at this point, you just moaned their names, as if that was the only thing you knew. As you squirted over Steve’s cock, and the way Bucky lapped up all your juices, you were sure you died and you were in heaven.. Then you felt Steve’s cock twitch inside you, making you moan.

-Damn.. she gripped me so tightly.. I just couldn’t take it anymore… So perfect.. you’re such a good girl taking us so well… - he praised you as his hand went to your neck, while Bucky insterted himself back again.

-I can’t..

-Yes you can baby.. i know you have one more in there for us..

-I… i�� - then you came all over Bucky’s member as well.. Your juices mixing with Steve’s spend, soon enough Bucky filled you up too. Your body ached so sweetly.

-Want to spend the night baby?

-Mmmmm – was all you could mutter, eyes already closing. The last you heard was them chuckling.

The next morning you woke up, feeling sore, and hot. Too hot. As you opened your eyes you saw both men curled around you, all naked. You sighed to yourself, already getting wet as you thought back tot he night before. You don’t know how you’ll be able to work with them in the future. You were ripped from your thoughts when a strong arm pulled you flush into a hard chest, snuggling into your neck.

-Sleep some more baby.. We’ll make breakfast later.. –he said, while Bucky, in front of you opened his eyes. His ocean blue eyes searched yours with slight fear. They searched for any regret, any anger. They found none. Just a slightly sad smile, and some fear. He caressed your face gently, before giving you a light peck. Steve kissed the back of your neck and got up, probably to shower, and to make breakfast. Bucky stayed, thumb caressing your cheek, as your eyes got all watery, and a few tears escaped.

-Why are you crying doll?

-I.. what is this Buck.. what are we doing… you said… i..

-I never meant a word of that darling.. i just didn’t want mr. smarty pants to know.. You bewitched me.. even before we even met.. Any man would be stupid not to want to keep you. I hope you know that.. – he moved to tuck you safely in his embrace.

-How will we work together after this?

-We’ll figure out.. Maybe get shades or something… I don’t think i could last a day without touching you… but i don’t want the interns to see… You’re ours.. only ours..

-Yours? Since when? – you teased him, wiping the remainder of your tears. He smiled, and rolled you on top of him.

-You need me to mark you up too? – he asked kissing your neck, as you felt him growing beneath you. You slowly grinded on him, taking him by surprise, also surprising yourself with how wet you already were. He adjusted himself so with the next grind of your hips he actually slid into you, making you gasp, as he pulled you flush to his chest, kissing you deeply, moving in and out of you slowly. He then rolled you over, so he were on top, your legs were locked around his waist, and he placed lovebites all over your collarbone, your neck.. marking you up in the sweetest way. You came on his cock not long after, and while you were trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Steve entered, clicking his tongue, before laying beside you, hand going over your neck, making you face him.

-Playing without me?... Where are my good girl?

-I’m right here Stevie… - you said sweetly, while Bucky continued to pound into you.

-Why don’t you help Stevie with that pretty little mouth while i’m playing doll? – you clenched around him at the sound of that, mouth already watering. You nodded, and Steve positioned himself so you were able to look him in the eyes, while kitten licking the tip of his member, lapping up all the precum, before licking one stripe along him from the base tot he top. You took him into your mouth, slowly, never loosing eye contact. You loved to see him fal lapart with your mouth on him. Bucky circled your clit with his thumb, and you moaned around Steve’s cock, which made him twich, which made you clench around Bucky. This circle of events made you all cum in unison, breathing heavly, falling next to eachother ont he king sized bed.

-Damn.. you’ll be the death of us doll…

[dilly-oh]

The Office War

    Kakashi had been stealing his pens again, Iruka was certain of it. His particular favorite was sitting right there out in the open on that bastard's desk, the orange one with the ugly troll cap that'd been a present from Naruto, as well as several others he'd bought at his own personal expense because the quality of pens the company provided for employees was a damn joke. Iruka had standards. 

    Those are my fucking pens, douche-bag, Iruka thought as he sat at his desk, seething with righteous fury. Get your own.

    He could see the smarmy asshole's hair poking up out of his cubicle, gray and spikey and in desperate need of brushing. As he watched, his computer chair tipped back and Kakashi came into view, lazy-eyed and tapping one of Iruka's own pens against his weird medical face-mask in thought.

    Just let it go, Iruka told himself before he could get truly riled up. He didn't need another talk with HR after the incident with Genma eating his lunches. That had gotten pretty out of hand - there had almost been a lawsuit involved. It's just a few pens, right? Nothing to start a fight over. It's not a big deal.

    And then Kakashi poked the pen under his mask and started chewing.

    That did it.

    Time to confront the bastard. With passive-aggressive guilt-tripping. 

    Iruka stood up from his cubicle and sauntered over as nonchalantly as possible.

    “Hey, Kakashi. What's up?” he greeted. Kakashi gave a distracted grunt in reply, eyes glued to his computer screen. “Sorry, can I borrow a pen?” Iruka went on, baring his teeth in challenge more than smiling. “Mine seem to be...missing.”

    “Uh-huh, yeah, sure,” Kakashi said, immediately handing him the one from his mouth, covered in teeth-marks and spit. Iruka recoiled in disgust.

    “Maybe...not that one. How about...that one?” He pointed to the orange one on his desk. Kakashi shrugged and handed it over. Iruka's eyes narrowed. Time to go in for the kill. “Wow. This pen is really nice. Where did you get it?”

    “Dunno.” Kakashi shrugged again. “Picked it up somewhere.”

    Okay, screw passive-aggressive. Time for full-on confrontational. 

    “Okay, cut the shit!”  Iruka burst out impatiently. “Those pens are mine! Give them back!” He reached over and quickly snatched them up, hugging them protectively to his chest. “And...” He paused, eyes raking over Kakashi's sloppy work station. “Is that my stapler?”

    “Oh, is it?” Kakashi said innocently. 

    “Yes it is!” Iruka snatched it away as well. “What else of mine do you have?”

    “Just some papers and binders and stuff. Oh, and I borrowed your pencil sharpener last week but it crapped out after sharpening my hundredth pencil-”

    “That was YOU?!”

    “I needed them for a seminar.” 

    “That thing cost like thirty bucks!”

    “I thought you wouldn't mind,” Kakashi said simply. 

    “Normally, no, I wouldn't, but YOU take things and KEEP them. That I mind. Plus you don't even have the common courtesy to ASK first.” Iruka turned away with a huff. “Don't touch my shit again.”

    And with that, he stomped back to his desk, arms full of his reclaimed supplies. 

    That'll teach him. 

---

    Apparently, it did not. 

    The next day, all of Iruka's paperclips were missing. He spotted them on Kakashi's desk, bent into abstract shapes. Mostly dicks. 

    That son of a bitch.

    This called for war. 

---

    After an entire weekend of planning, Iruka was ready. 

    On Monday, he took a screwdriver to Kakashi's computer chair, subtly loosening the screws at the base of the seat so it would break when tipped back at a lazy angle. He heard the crash from the break-room and almost choked on his granola bar laughing.

    On Tuesday, he drained half of Kakashi's pens of ink and rigged the other half to explode, splattering everywhere when used. All of Kakashi's reports that day were sent back and he had to stay an extra hour just to re-sign everything. 

    On Wednesday, he jammed the copy machine. Kakashi, the procrastinating prick, wasn't able to print out the dozen or so information pamphlets he needed five minutes before the important presentation. The meeting was rescheduled for the following day, much to everyone's irritation, most of all Kakashi's, who prided himself on his copying skills. 

    On Thursday, he stole every single staple in the office. Kakashi, who had finally managed to print the copies for the presentation, was forced to tape all of the papers together. The strange looks he got from the others as he passed them out was well worth the effort. 

    On Friday, he sabotaged Kakashi's coffee cup to spring a leak when he took a sip. Iruka heard him curse from across the room and looked up to see a satisfying amount of hot coffee had spilled all over Kakashi's shirt and face mask. Hissing in pain, he stood and stomped to the nearest bathroom. Iruka couldn't resist following the other man inside for a victory gloat. 

    “So...” Iruka said smugly, joining Kakashi at the sink where he was attempting to dab the stain away with wet paper-towels, “had enough?” 

    “Of what?” Kakashi asked distractedly. “Coffee?”

    “ME, you idiot! It was all me!” Iruka exploded. “Your chair, the copy machine, your coffee! All ME! Are you ready to admit defeat yet? Have you been thoroughly chastened?” 

    “Well, I'm mildly annoyed, if that counts,” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “I can't believe you went to all that trouble. You should put that effort into your work.” 

    “I should put more effort into my work?! You're the one sneaking naps in your cubicle!!” Iruka sputtered furiously, his face burning with rage, then cut off as Kakashi reached up and removed his mask and his face started burning for an entirely different reason. 

    Oh, shit. 

    Kakashi was hot. Kakashi was really hot. Kakashi was hot enough Iruka wanted to go to HR and lodge a complaint – He's too fucking hot. It's not fair. Fire his ass.

    This changes nothing, Iruka told himself as he broke into a sweat. He's still an asshole, he still deserved it all, the stupid son of a-

    “Damn. It's not coming out.” With an annoyed tsk, Kakashi smoothly removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and stripped it off, his shoulders and chest rolling obscenely with the motion. Iruka's mouth went dry.

    ...This may have backfired, he thought, eyes glued to the slope of Kakashi's back as he bent over the sink, scrubbing at the stain. 

    “I...have to go,” Iruka said blankly. 

    “Well you came to the right place,” Kakashi replied, focused on his work. 

    “No. I mean. Leave. I have to leave. Like right now.” Iruka slowly backed up, hit the wall, then slithered along it til he found the door, desperately snatching at the handle, his eyes still riveted by Kakashi's sculpted chest. 

    “You're leaving early?” Kakashi glanced up at him. “Aren't you out of earned time?”

    “Just take it out of my paycheck gotta go bye,” Iruka blurted before finally wrestling the door open and tumbling out into the hallway, shoving past a confused intern as he bolted towards the exit. 

---

    The sight of Kakashi shirtless haunted Iruka all weekend long.

    He considered calling in sick on Monday, but didn't because Kakashi was indeed correct – he had no more sick leave left after Naruto gave him food poisoning for his birthday by being cheap and trying to bake a cake. 

    Also, he wasn't a coward. 

    So, come Monday morning, he marched right back into the office at 8 A.M on the dot, rode the elevator with his head down, pointedly ignoring everyone while also on the lookout for a certain silver-haired individual, and walked straight to his desk.

    Which was covered in a stunning array of brand-new office supplies. Pens, mechanical pencils, highlighters, large and small paperclips, all sitting there still wrapped in plastic with that new-store smell. Iruka almost burst into tears at the sight.

    “Whose dick did you suck to get all those?” Izumo whispered, his voice thick with jealousy.

    “No-one's!” Iruka snapped at him as he sat down, mystified. He tentatively picked up a box of pens, delighted to see they came in a variety of colors. 

    “Do you like them?” Kakashi asked, leaning in over his shoulder. “I was gonna get flowers, but I figured you'd appreciate these more.”

    “Kakashi!” Iruka bolted up out of his chair like he'd been shocked. Which, frankly, he had been. “Wait. You did this?” He gaped at the other man in disbelief, then his stomach dropped like a weight. Oh, God, of course this wasn't real. It was too good to be true. The supplies were probably all fake, rigged to break or explode or-

    “It was the least I could do to apologize.” 

    “...Apologize?” Iruka blinked. “Why?”

    “Some kid came by looking for you on Friday, after you left,” Kakashi went on, scratching at his face mask in an almost nervous gesture. “Seemed real upset about an orange pen missing from your desk. Said it was a present from him. And, well...I connected the dots.” He nodded towards Iruka's desk, where Naruto's gag “Worst Big Brother Ever” mug sat in its place of honor beside his monitor. “I'm sorry. I didn't know that pen meant so much to you.” He dropped his gaze in shame. “I shouldn't have taken it. Or any of your other stuff, for that matter.” 

    “It...it's alright, Kakashi,” Iruka said quietly, looking at him in a whole new light. Perhaps he should reevaluate his opinion of the other man. Sure, he was a lazy, procrastinating jerk sometimes, but he seemed to have a good heart. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. “And...thank you for the supplies, they're very appreciated, but honestly, there was no need to trouble yourself-”

    “Want me to take my shirt off again?”

    And maybe he was just an asshole.

    Kakashi smirked down at him, and Iruka could imagine how, under the mask, it pulled at the stupid beauty mark on the side of his mouth.

    ...A really, really hot asshole.

    “...Yeah alright.”

(Written for @kakairu-fest Kakairu Month 2021, Day Six Prompt: Office AU)

[missinghan]

dandelion ⤖ hwang hyunjin

❖ genre : strangers to lovers!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 12,2k.

❖ warning : explicit language 

❖ summary : it’s funny how you’ve been second-guessing every single thing in life to the T but the only thing you didn’t just happens to be running after a total stranger named Hwang Hyunjin.

one.

“And that, my friend, is the end of the chapter. See, that wasn’t so hard, you just need to pay more attention to the details.” Minho shuts his textbook closed and grins at you from your laptop screen. 

Your typical Monday starts with online school and ends with Lee Minho since your non-existent brain cells furiously agree to comprehend zero ounce of what your teacher rambled about accounting. Being the sly snake that he is, Minho ‘kindly’ offered you a weekly tutor session with him. Kindly, that is. And you simply cannot see that specific word in his less than appropriate vocabulary when all he did for the past ninety minutes was repeating the same damn things that your teacher did last week. 

You groan rather quietly. “How am I supposed to pay more attention to them when they’re so fucking small ?” And you don’t even have to think twice to see that smug smile appearing on your friend’s face. 

One that pops up whenever he’s clinging onto Han Jisung’s back like the sloth that he is, one that also occurs when he’s mentally prepare himself to clapping back at you with the most obnoxious yet witty comment that’s gonna make you wanna jump through the laptop screen and strangle him until he begs you to stop.

“Well, aren’t you being unreasonable ?” Minho tuts. “In fact, the smallest details are by far the most important.” You can’t help but scowl when he’s talking all calmly in his wisdom glory as if he’s Sherlock Holmes and you’re John Waston, running after him from one place to another as he keeps lecturing you and acting all mysterious with his stupid deerstalker. 

As if he’s asking you to examine a dead body with grand conclusions and spits at you afterwards “Nice one John, you missed every single essential detail that’d give us a lead, again.” A stark contrast compared to when he’s yelling and running around spontaneously. Tsk, so unnecessary. 

You feel a rush of air rising up in your rib cage as you cough harshly into the sleeves of your shirt. “Alright— smartie pants, how about you— go find Han and just make— out on Changbin’s expensive leather couch, yeah ?” You say between coughs, hand reaching for the oxygen tubes that’s carelessly thrown on the side of your bed. 

The boys always come over to Changbin’s place for a movie night every Monday. You believe that they’re planning on seeing the sequel of ‘Jumanji’ to switch it up instead of watching Woojin’s sappy dramas. How fitting. 

Minho pouts. “Come on sour patch, don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to point out how much of a dumbass you are.” And it’s no doubt that those words of his are dripping with sarcasm and fake empathy. He’s too predictable at this point. 

Normal people would have freaked out to see their friend choking on air like this but it’s been countless times since Minho saw you hacking up lungs and had people yelling at him “Why the fuck are you just standing there ? She’s dying !” But truthfully, you do that all the time and he just doesn’t want to waste a single chance to at least make fun of you.

You sneer at him. “Hold your fucking tongue, you hypocrite.” As you put on the oxygen tubes and loop them around the rim of your ears, you breath adjusts itself slowly and steadily until you don’t sound like a drowning donkey again. 

“Whatever Y/N, I hope you don’t fail Park’s accounting class because that’d ruin my reputation.” Minho rolls his eyes dramatically as if the scene he’s just caused wasn’t dramatic enough in the first place. “Do you have the slightest idea of what I was trying to teach you for the past hour and a half ?” He asks semi-seriously because no matter how passionate he is about pestering you, you failing a subject because of him is the last thing he wants to go home with on his conscience. 

“Nope.” You beam. 

Minho closes his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. He’s trying so hard not to scream out loud right now, such an amusing sight. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He repeats after himself, sounding more like he’s trying to prevent himself from exploding rather than comforting you about your stupidity. “We can just start over, I’ll just make a quick summary and you try to do the assignments by yourself after this, okay ?” 

“Fine.” 

And as Minho starts blabbering about the mere basics of accounting, the door swings open to reveal Jackson - your nurse - who’s pushing a cart full of medications inside your room, the wheels screeching against the tiled floor. “Having fun with maths again, I see.” Jackson comments with a mischievous smile. 

“Hey Jackson !” Minho inquires innocently. They both used to share a room when Jackson was still in college. Not to mention, he was good friends with 3racha and made dope music for Minho’s auditions. So you can say that Minho’s technically allowed to fanboy a little over your nurse. “You best believe that Y/N has been doing the most to comprehend what I was saying since she just appreciates me so much.” 

Jackson cackles loudly, too loudly for the sake of being in a hospital. He’s lucky that they spent a good amount of cold, hard cash to make the walls soundproof. “Just bear with her until freshman year is over. Don’t pick on the sick kid, that’s not very nice.” And now all you want to do is to put both of their heads on a stick because you know that having both Jackson Wang and Lee Minho in the same conversation is equivalent to the definition of ‘oneself against the world’. Because Jackson too, acts like an old bitchy cat and loves to laugh his ass off at your impending misery. 

You grit. “Square the fuck up.” But the scowl on your face soon fades as your nurse reaches his hand outwards underneath the blue fabric that has the whole cart covered and pulls out a brown paper bag. Now, it’s Jackson’s turn to give you a dirty look when you gratefully take the McDonal’s order from his hand like a three-year-old. “You peasants can live for the time being.” 

“You’re lucky that your body needs 3000 calories per day or else Jaebum will fire me for feeding you junk food so often.” He informs you rather sarcastically as he scatters your description medications across the table where you’d chose to put your collection of stuffed animals instead of other necessities like textbooks or plastic binders. “I didn’t sign up for this FYI, ugh, I need money to pay off student’s loan too you know ?”

And that’s another perfect example of one hundred and one reasons why you’re not pumped for college like other kids. First off, what do you mean if someone’s privileged then they get to turn the assignment in later than everyone else ? And secondly, how the fuck can a graduate pay off their loans when they’re struggling like a fish out of water to find a decent job ? Not to mention, college dramas are the absolute worst. Things won’t be as lighthearted as highschool when students are entering bars with fake IDs and do drugs to get their minds off things that are stressing them out, which is almost everything. 

In conclusion, college is just more of a shithole than highschool so you don’t really get the hype about it. 

“You’ll be fine, Wang, stop being so whiny.” You snicker and drop a french fire into your mouth before chewing obnoxiously. “Have fun with your night shift.” You wave him off as he glares at you while pushing the cart outside. The moment Jackson swings the door open again, you can see a figure passing by but this one in particular catches your attention. And surprisingly, it’s a boy because it’s been ages since you have some kind of interest in guys, non-platonically of course. 

Not to be one of those creepy people, but you’d admit it, he’s quite the looker. Defined nose, full lips and cute mono lids, the air tossing his black mullet like how every protagonist makes their entrance into the movie. But he also has oxygen tubes put on just like you, perhaps you’re in the same boat ? Either way, that’s not the point because while pretty boy’s out there looking like a runway model in sweatpants, you’re nothing more than a couch potato because you’ve been doing nothing other than staying in bed all day. 

Good gracious he’s cute. 

“And that is how you can work on simple balance sheets.” Your friend closes in but frowns at your lack of attention. The door finally closes with a soft ‘click’, hurrying you back to reality to find a not-so-happy looking Minho. “Y/N, would you be a sweetheart and tell me that you didn’t miss a single detail during the last five minutes ?” His smile is rather stiff because his facial muscles are struggling hard not to burst as anger slowly bottles up inside of his chest captivity. For fuck’s sake, he hates it when you don’t listen on purpose. 

You cock your head to the side dumbfoundedly. “Wait— everything makes no sense.” 

Minho sighs in desperation. “Oh... what if you were smarter ?” 

two.

“Kkami !” Someone exclaims from behind you. 

You stop in the middle of your track and take out a side of your earbuds. The footsteps are getting louder and louder by the second along with the male voice. “Excuse me- pardon- Kkami I swear to God !” You decide to take a full ten seconds to comprehend what’s happening before turning around. The next thing you know is your head comes in contact with something hard, causing you to stagger backwards and land on your bottom. 

“Ugh, my head.” You wince at the aching feeling on your back as your pupils slowly dilate and adjust your vision on the current surroundings. The moment you lay your eyes on the figure in front of you, your mouth automatically lets out a silent scream. A cute boy just bumped into you, but then again, you wouldn’t overreact if he’s just any other cute boy. But he’s that cute boy who managed to distract you from Minho, who got your attention even when you just stared at him through a barely opened door. 

The boy widens his eyes when he sees what he’s caused. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes with a smile, offering you a hand to pull you up right. “Are you okay ?”

You take his hand, almost flinching when his touch sends electricity throughout your body. His hands are much bigger than yours and are fully capable of enveloping your smaller ones with ease. You like that about him because you’ve never truly experienced what it feels like to hold someone’s hand in a non-platonic way. “Uhm, yeah, I’m okay but are you though ? You sounded like you’re going through a crisis looking for someone.” 

He smiles at you, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “My mom brought my dog here and he accidentally ran off.” His laugh is melodic, sounding just like Mozart to your ears and you can’t help but crack a smile too. “It was nice meeting you, and I really have to go find him before he got to the NICUs or something… but I think we should get to know each other more. What do you say ?” He chides with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You yank his hand away harshly. “I thought you’re better than that.” It’s ridiculous how boys with A+ look can just slide into your lives and stay for as long as they want then just disappear as if they’ve never been there in the first place. You’d hate to see a version of yourself who spends all day crying in bed because some bastard doesn’t love her back so this pretty boy over here better go before you throw him off a cliff. 

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” And with that, you walk away without turning your head, not even once. Well, so much for a Tuesday afternoon. Tuesdays are supposed to be easy-going for you since you just have to get yourself through several assignments and essays but someone just had to pop up in your life and ruin everything. 

The scowl on your face drops when you push the glass door of the pediatric unit open. Immediately, the kids see you and quickly abandon their nurses to run towards your direction. Your dad just got back from a business trip in Sydney and he still thinks that you’re a nine-year-old so your room is basically filled with candies and other sweet treats. That’d better change today. “Behave well and all of you will have one.” You chuckle at the kids’ eagerness, personally handing one bag over to each and every one of them. 

Five minutes later, the amount of treats are slowly trickling down until there’s only one bag left. In which, you’ve saved it for a specific someone since he’s just that obsessed with Australian candies. Your phone buzzes. How convenient. 

[ 3:45p.m. ]

yongbokie | okay, I’m here, where are you ?

y/n | seventh floor, just go straight down the hallway and it’s on the right side. 

“Here’s your worksheets, now where’s my Tim Tam Slam ?” Felix shoves the stack of papers into your arms as soon as he spots you inside the pediatric unit, surrounded by children, a whole lot of children. He knows your love for kids all too well and the fact that you’re lonely in this hospital is no shocker. Meaning, you’re a part-time kindergarten teacher ( aka whenever you feel like slacking off on school work ). 

You scoff at him, throwing the bag of candies at him with as much aggression. “Changbin’s gonna kick you out sooner or later if you end up looking like a pig, enjoy it while you can.” That’s obviously useless since Seo Changbin is as utterly soft for Lee Felix as you are for kids. Both are annoying little pricks but somehow, your little heart can never get mad. “And you better share that with Chan too or else he’s gonna write an entire diss track about me.” 

“CB97’s new diss track material is apparently Tim Tam Slam, how terrific.” Your friend snickers and tears the bag open single handedly with his teeth while his other hand tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t even need a cup of hot chocolate, that’s how bad Felix is craving his childhood candy. 

“Ooh, earrings ? And jeans too ?” He cocks a brow at your dainty pieces of jewelry. And you never wear jeans in the hospital, never. You think that’s it’s equivalent to asking someone to suffocate you as if the hospital isn’t suffocating enough. “Who are you trying to impress ?” 

Upon his teasing, you let out an audible groan. For once in your life, you’ve made up your mind and actually packed something decent because hospital romance is a thing and you need to be prepared at all times. Not to mention, you might as well snatch yourself a guy who’s totally father material because you hang out at the pediatric unit most of the time. “Haha, very funny. Try and find me someone cute then.” 

Just then, very slowly, a familiar figure takes long strides towards your direction. “Anyone, but him.” You deadpan.

“Him ?” Felix says over a mouthful of chocolate as he turns his head to the front door. 

And holy shit. 

To your dismay - with a bag over his shoulder, face flushed from running with beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks that make him glow like Edward Cullen and his wet fringe covering his eyes slightly — is the pretty boy from yesterday, well, more like five minutes ago. They say everything’s uglier close-up but not him. He’s absolutely breathtaking, undeniably brilliant as if he had just stepped out from an anime. But you’re not falling for that perfect smile again, at least for the time being. 

“Oh hell no.” Felix quickly identifies the boy and hangs his jaw open, the plastic wrapper falling out from his hand. You look at your friend in disbelief, your expression mirroring his - completely lost for words. 

The boy waves his hand at him and smiles widely. “Yongbok !” And just like that, your brain starts to process the new amount of overwhelming information. Slowly, and steadily, all the dots are connected. That guy is definitely heading towards your direction. No one knows Felix’s Korean name unless they’re close friends or family members. Jesus motherfucking Christ-

Felix demands loudly. “Hyunjin, do not move !” 

The pretty boy - whose name is apparently Hyunjin - stops abruptly at his friend’s sudden outburst. He turns his head only to accidentally make eye contact with you. Cocking a brow, he averts his attention back to Felix. You too, tug on your friend’s sleeve before questioning him. 

“You know him ?” “You know her ?” 

Felix widens his eyes in terror and quickly pushes Hyunjin away. “You people are insane ! Six feet away at all times, it’s a fucking simple protocol !” 

“Huh- wait what ?” You stutter. Soon enough, all of the colors on Hyunjin’s face are completely drained and a worrisome feeling suddenly runs down your spine. 

You exchange a weird look with him. “Don’t tell me that you’re a...“

“Are you also a… “ 

Felix face palms himself. “You fucking guessed it.” 

three.

The next few weeks get a little bit mayhem since you’re wrapping up the semester while being hospitalized at the same time. Meaning, you’re struggling real hard to balance the whole feud with finals and all of the medical stuff along with really boring paperwork because your body decided to fail you once again. 

No one was really able to give you company since they have to deal with their own problems too. Your parents are busy with their draining business trips while your brother - Woojin is getting his bachelor degree soon. And Minho is graduating in less than a month. Moreover, you haven’t met the pretty boy since your first and only encounter. 

Speaking of the Devil, “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You peel your eyes away from your laptop and see Hyunjin. In which, almost makes you fall right off the stool that you’ve been occupying for the last hour. You’re still procrastinating like highschool but you’re actually determined to finish your essay because if not, you won’t be able to walk away from your problems again. 

“Six feet away at all times, not six feet under the ground. So knock it off.” You deadpan, ushering him further away with a wave of your hand. If you were being completely honest, Hyunjin just took the breath right out of your lungs at the slightest glance. Time really does make people blind because you almost forgot that although he did try to flirt with you that one time, he’s also drop dead gorgeous. And that makes your heart tingles, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Hyunjin makes a ‘I’mma-need-you-to-relax’ face and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. “You still radiate big passive aggressive energy, not so good of a first impression.” 

You laugh dryly. “Speak for yourself. Talk about some shitty flirting skills.” 

“In my defense,” He raises a brow and throws you a look, one that makes you feel personally attacked. “I was genuinely trying to make friends, you sure know how lonely it is to be hospitalized all the time, don’t you ?”

You sneer at him. “Well, you picked the wrong person.” 

“How am I supposed to know that you’re also a CF-er ?! You weren’t wearing your oxygen tubes.” 

Apparently, you think that life hates you more than most of the world’s population because you weren’t just born with cystic fibrosis, you were born into it. The genetic disease gifts you with constant lung infections and gives you a hard time to breath in order to function like a normal human being. More accurately, the protein inside your body becomes dysfunctional so it loses the ability to move chloride to the cell surface. Meaning, the mucus in various organs can attract more bacteria along with germs, causing infections and inflammation. 

So naturally, minimizing contact with any kind of germs and other CF-er are your top priorities unless you want to catch their bacteria and choke to death on it instead. With that being said, you’ve just come to a realization that Hyunjin touched you the other day, skin to skin without any kind of protection like gloves. Some CF-ers have caught each other’s bacteria before by touching a doorknob, and that story scared you shitless. 

You speak up, finally. “Uhm… so.. were you okay ?” 

“If you’re asking if I got cross-infection or not, then no, I’m totally fine. None of that B. cepacia shit.” Hyunjin answers while avoiding your eyes. He quietly reaches inside his backpack and pulls out a blue binder that looks like it’s been used since elementary school because plastic never really goes away. 

You raise a curious brow when he pulls out some pieces of papers that are covered in an awfully dizzy amount of words. “What you got there, pretty boy ?” 

“Now you’re talking, I almost ended up on the ground laughing when you thought that I was nothing but a shallow fuckboy.” Hyunjin is still pissed off because not only did you despise him, you also happens to be Felix’s best friend. Totally irrelevant, but he’s also mad at Felix for not telling him about you sooner. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want the both of you to accidentally kill each other or anything but still, Hyunjin did hold your hand and nothing happened. 

You prop your head on your hand, lips cracking a smile. “But I’m interested now, no hard feelings. You really need to lighten up drama lama.” You’re just noticing this now, but it seems like he’s really similar to Felix. Point break, he’s an easy victim to pick on anytime, anywhere. Of course you’re going to take advantage of this. 

Hyunjin replies monotonously. “I need to practice my lines for the upcoming play for finals season.” He’s trying so hard not to give in and smile at you because he’s decided to play hard to get. 

“No wonder why you’re a dramatic little dipshit. How fitting.” You grin coyly at the scowl on his face. “Okay, sorry, let me tone that down. What are you guys playing ?” 

Hyunjin groans. “We’re trying to fit an entire season of ‘Once Upon a Time’ into a two-hour play. And my fucking God, Captain Hook has a shit ton of lines.” Although it does appeal as a privilege to other people that drama majors can skip through the whole ‘cramming and crying’ to pass their finals, what people don’t know is the amount of work and effort that needs to be put into a single play. It requires patience, team chemistry, diligence and lots of, lots of caffeine to have a decent performance for the whole school. 

There was this one time he pulled seven all nighters in a row just to finish ‘Peter Pan’ before the holiday hit. And for the following five days, he basically lived on his bed and fed on leftover pizza that his roommate refused to microwave. 

You offer him kindly. “Maybe I can help you practice ?” You really feel like a fucking angel with your own imaginary halo shining ever so brightly on the top of your head. “I got nothing better to do anyway, not planning on being stuck with accounting 24/7 or I’m gonna end up in an insane asylum.”

“Thought you’re already in one.” 

“Say that again and I’ll skin you alive !” 

four.

Hwang Hyunjin is fortunately blessed by whatever gods up there because you finally finished finals way before the D-day of his play. Which means you feel even more obligated to help him practice his lines. 

But in all seriousness, he technically doesn’t need you because all you do is read the other characters’ lines right off the script anyway. Unlike you, even in the hospital cafeteria with a stainless steel fork as the hook on his right hand, Hyunjin plays the character as if he’s the one and only, non-biological heir of Leo DiCaprio. 

You can see why he chose the dramatic arts because he embraces and studies closely every movement, every gesture, every inch of flesh, every drop of emotion that his character has to offer. No wonder why they let him play one of the male protagonists because you can’t imagine anyone other than him play the iconic Captain Hook. And it’s actually nice to not having him spatting some kind of witty comments at you every two minutes. 

You clap your hands together. “Act 4. Scene 1.” 

“I already told you, I’m just a blacksmith !” Hyunjin tries to whimper as quietly as possible to avoid dirty looks from other people. He’s portraying that scene where Hook basically got tied up on a tree so that the others could get him talking. 

Your eyes narrow down into a glare, mentally throwing daggers at his general direction. Meaning if Hook doesn’t spill who he really is, he’s gonna be the monster’s meal in a matter of time. “You won’t talk to us ? Maybe they’ll talk to you and snatch one of your limbs for lunch.”

“You can’t just leave me here like this !” He sudden yelps, startling you in the process. You quickly avert your attention from the script to his eyes, clearly they show nothing but desperation and mischief. As the character should have. 

“Su-Sure you’re not.” You stutter, not knowing how to express the words inside the parentheses. 

Hyunjin guides you patiently. “Say it like you’re gonna set me on fire if I dare to test you. Be aggressive, talk aggressively, act aggressively. Aggressive is your middle name now.” His voice starts to get louder and louder at the end, a thing that he accidentally adapted from Chan. He doesn’t even need megaphones to yell at someone at this point. 

You give him a curt nod before gripping the script tightly once again. If you’re gonna help him, you’ll have to make it seem like you’re not slacking off. 

“Sure you’re not.” You deadpan, cringing at your own attempt to sound intimidating. Acting was never your thing either way. You’ve only been chosen for pity roles like ‘Girl #2’ or ‘Tree #5’ for some plays back in middle school and the beginning of highschool. 

He smirks. “Good for you. You bested me. I can assure you that the number of people who have done that before can only be counted on one hand.”

Another thing, you fucking love Emma Swan because she’s practically your twin. The only thing is that you’re not even half as badass as her. Sometimes you don’t even realize that there’s a script in your hands this whole time. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be funny ? Who are you ?”

“Kilian Jones.” Hyunjin says with a glint of fierceness flickering in his irises. His intense gaze almost makes you run straight into the restroom and scream for a good five minutes. “But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker, Hook.” The rasp in his voice sends chills to the core of your bones. 

You cock a brow. “As in, Captain Hook ?”

He beams. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

You pant slightly out of nervousness, gripping onto the edge of the wooden stool for fuck’s sake. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” 

Hyunjin shakes his head gently. “Don’t just read out the line. Don’t become the character. Make the character yours. Make it seems like her lines are personally tailored to every single detail of your existence.” He’s mentoring you as if you’re the one who plays Emma Swan and not that one pretty girl from his class. You swear, you’re not a stalker, he literally just spilled everything about his life after very few conversations with you. 

You nod. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” This time, you finally got a good grip on the character’s emotions, slowly falling into a haze. 

“Cora told me to gain your trust so that I can learn everything there is to know about your storybook.” Hyunjin singsongs, lips curling upwards. You really want to deck him in the face right now. That’s how good of an actor he is. “She didn’t want any surprises when she got over there.”

You pretend to be in disbelief, jaw dropping in the process. “She can’t go there. We already destroyed the wardrobe.” 

He chuckles this time. God you wish you can wipe that stupid smirk off his face, although everything’s just an act. “Ah, my enchantment remained. Cora gathered the ashes and she’s gonna use them to open a new portal.” He looks at you, wiggling his brows to show off his skills before continues. “Now, if you’d just kindly cut me loose—“

“Let’s go.” You say monotonously to your non-existent cast, waving your free hand as a signal for them to walk away. 

“Wait !” Hyunjin slams his fist on the table loudly. It seems like he’s getting immersed in the character again because he can’t be bothered to give two shits about the fact that everyone’s having their eyes on him. More accurately, on the two of you. “You need me alive !”

You also try to ignore all of the weird looks. “Why ?”

“Because we both want the same thing. To get back to your land.” When you meet Hyunjin’s eyes, you nod at him to continue with the script. “I initially arranged for transport with Cora, but seeing just how resourceful you are, I’ll offer you the same deal. I’ll help you as long as you promise to take me along.”

You clear your throat. “How are you going to help us ?”

Hyunjin proceeds to elaborate, slowly. “The ashes will open a portal but to get to your land, she’ll need more. There’s an enchanted compass, Cora seeks it. I’ll help you obtain it before she does.”

“So Cora won’t make it to Storybrooke and we’ll be one step closer to being home. Sounds too good to be true.” You mock him, the corners of your mouth twitching slightly. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

“I’ll need you to tell me one thing then.” You point the tip of your sword (knife) directly at his throat (a good three inches away) as an attempt to threaten him. “What does the infamous Captain Hook want in Storybrooke ?”

“To exact revenge on the man who took my hand. Rumplestiltskin.” Hyunjin finishes his line and claps, breaking out of character. He looks disturbed at the particular way that you’re pointing the knife at him. “And… cut ! Put the knife down, Y/N. You’re a sadist, not a murderer.” He pushes the piece of cutlery away as if it’s a ticking bomb. 

This time, it’s your turn to wiggle your brows at him. “You don’t know me. What if I’m an actual murderer who preys on the innocent at night, when everyone’s fast asleep in their cozy beds, when they’re the most vulnerable ? What if I’ve been living a double life this entire time and you’re my next target ?” Actually, scratch that. Hyunjin thinks you’re pretty fitting for the role of Regina aka the Evil Queen. 

“Admit it you moron, you’re a sucker for my acting.” He flips his imaginary long hair and you make a gagging noise. It seems like Hyunjin has adapted the habit of holding grudges from Felix because the shy pretty boy that you met a few weeks ago is nowhere to be seen. Like he has grown accustomed to you, he treats you like an old friend, just catching up on things with each other. But in reality, his confidence level just went from a 100 to Han Jisung because you’ve been feeding his ego way too much. 

“There’s room for improvement.” You shrug, trying to keep a straight face. Emphasis on the ‘trying’ part. “Bet you’d do better if that pretty girl was here.”

Hyunjin blows a few strands of loose hair out of his face. He looks really good with disheveled hair, and it’s tickling something at very bottom pit of your stomach. “Kinda wish you could play Emma. You two are literally the same person. She’s just slightly cooler because at least she doesn’t sleep with opened windows.” 

“Is this a fucking call out ?” You hold back the urge to slap him with your slippers. “My room’s on the third floor for fuck’s sake.”

“Rapists can climb.” He smiles cheekily and it makes you ponder about how many more questionable behaviors of his you'd have to deal with for the long future. “You’re definitely going, don’t leave me hanging okay ?” Hyunjin declares and slaps a ticket on the wooden surface, sliding it across the dining table. 

You blink countless times at the ticket, hesitating to grab it with your bare hands. “Take it, I’m wearing gloves anyway.” He reassures you, skimming through some of the scenes that he feels like he could do better. Hyunjin might not look like it but he’s really hard on himself. He takes every single scene, every single line seriously and you admire that about him. He even complained to you how he could have done better for the role of Diaval for ‘Maleficent’ from last month’s play. 

“So the play’s on March 20th ?” You play dumb and pretend to question him after reading the bold letters written in gold. 

Hyunjin peels his eyes away from the script and smiles, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “Yeah, the day that I’m turning 21, kinda terrifying but since it’s adulthood, I’ll have to bear with it for the rest of my life. At least I have the right to make decisions for myself now.” 

You ask him timidly as your hand fiddle with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Uhm so, do you wanna, I don’t know, get coffee after that or something ?” 

He gives you a dirty look, hard. Clearly Hyunjin’s annoyed. “Look who wants coffee now.” 

“That’s not a ‘no’ that I heard.” 

“You’d better pay up then, I haven’t got paid yet.” 

five.

[ 8:23p.m. ]

y/n | meet me on the terrace.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Hyunjin mutters as he rushes to the dressing room, and even more loops of ‘oh my god’ run through his mind, faster than a lighting bolt. He totally forgot about you until you made eye contact with him when the cast members took a full ninety degrees bow to the audience. You were clapping, cheering on for him like an old friend. But you were smiling, so brightly that he thought you could have lit up the entire stadium on your own. 

Chan finally finishes bowing to the rest of the cast and the crew. He feels like he can only breathe properly once the play came out smoothly. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Minho slipped over his long coat during the second scene, Seungmin was struggling with the lighting and Jisung nearly threw himself over the balcony. Besides that, everything went pretty okay. Little errors are unavoidable so he’ll let everything slide, because the play that he spent months planning out, training the cast so eagerly didn’t come out as a flop. 

“Woah, mate, where are you going in such a hurry ?” He quirks a brow when Hyunjin swings the door open, hair disheveled with ‘panic’ written in bold capital letters across his forehead. 

Changbin supplies unhelpfully as he steps out from behind the black curtain. Little strips of confetti are sticking onto his sweaty hair, thanks to Jisoo who kinda went overboard with the can of hairspray. “He invited a friend to come in and watch the play, can’t leave her hanging now, can he ?” He wiggles his brows in the most obnoxious way possible, being the little pest that he is. 

“I didn’t even say that my friend’s a girl— she’s not even my friend— wait, she is but we’re not that close— what, fuck you.” Hyunjin gives up after four attempts of forming an actual sentence. As if he’s forgotten how to speak, his voice fails him once again when a witty retort lingers at the tip of his tongue. He gives in and goes behind the curtain, quickly changing out of his costume. Like okay, pirates are cool and all but their sense of fashion is pretty questionable because leather boots and salt water ? Not compatible. 

Changbin peels the confetti off his hair before singsonging. “Our Hyunjinnie got himself a date, he’s all grown up now.” 

Chan throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. This is why he’s not planning on falling for someone soon because having a chaotic, annoying group of friends can only make things so much more difficult. “Give him a break, Bin. A boy can love whoever his heart yearns for.” Then he pauses, and continues. “Do you want to tell us something about her ?” 

Hyunjin scrunches his nose and starts singing. “Sing a yo ho, you can beg, plead and whine. But yo ho you are wasting your time.” The moment he finishes the line, he’s already changed into his normal clothing and pushed the curtain open. 

Chan and Changbin looks unimpressed. They both think that their friend should really stop quoting his own lines. Hyunjin throws Changbin the hook, then checks his own reflection in the mirror. Not too shabby, at least he didn’t forget to shave this morning. But it’s just you after all, you’d never judge him… wait no you’re highly judgmental. You once called him out for having a piece of carrot in the corner of his lips, shameless. 

“Hear me out one last time, mates. Then I’ve got a date with destiny.” Hyunjin continues to sing because he’s absolutely enjoying every moment of Changbin suffering and mentally dying on the floor. He wouldn’t even feel bad if his ears started bleeding or something, hanging out with weird people have turned him into a sadist, just like them. Tragic. 

Before Chan decides to wrestle him to the floor, Hyunjin starts moonwalking towards the door as he jumps straight to the last bits of the song. “Sing a yo ho, I’ll meet her tonight. Yo ho must be fate’s design. At last our hearts can be intertwined, can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t wait. God is on my side.” He’s just making up lyrics at this point nothing makes sense anymore. 

The door shuts with a small ‘click’, making him snap his mouth closed. Then I’ve got a date with destiny. Right, a date. Well, it’s technically not a date when you asked him to meet up on the terrace where there’s so much to offer. A brilliant view of the city, the ethereal moonlight which sets the atmosphere, just you and him standing face to face.. holy shit it’s a date ? 

“You’re late.” 

Hyunjin whines loudly at your cold statement and supports himself on his knees, chest heaving up and down at an abnormal space. Cystic fibrosis and ten flights of stairs are like water and oil, they don’t blend. “I was changing, do you know how hard it is to slip out of those leather combat boots ?” Upon your silence, he leans himself against the metal railings and sighs, standing a good six feet away from you. “Hey, at least I looked fly in them.” 

You automatically groan because fuck yes, he did look hot. Pirates aren’t supposed to be hot, they’re supposed to be smelly barbarians with shitty attitude. “Since when are you so cocky ?” 

Hyunjin tuts. “I’m very much aware of how good looking I am, thank you for taking your precious time to care about my tiny existence on this glorious planet.” He cocks his head sideways, narrowing his eyes at your sketchy posture. Both hands are hidden behind your back and you’re trying too hard to keep a straight face. “What are you hiding from me ?”

“Nothing.” You let out a small giggle. Clearly he’s not buying it. “Fine, close your eyes.” 

Hyunjin frowns at you but still closes his eyes nonetheless. He has enough faith in you that you won’t have the heart to knock him out cold before selling him off to some kind of mafia organization. “Y/N if you’re planning on kidnapping me, you might as well just do it—“ The words grow dead on his tongue once a small ‘pop’ occurs. What the fuck ? 

“Hey Hyunjin.” 

He flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. His hand immediately fly to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up !” He utters, shocked at what’s happening in front of his eyes. “You’re kidding, you’re kidding, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

You laugh loudly at how frantic he is once you get down on one knee with a black velvet box in your hand. A silver band with his name engraved on the inside. “Hwang Hyunjin, can you fathom enough courage to walk with me through your youth even though sometimes you wish you could throw me off a cliff ? Can you bear the burden of indulging an impulsive and indecisive person like me in the long run ? Because if you can, then happy 21st birthday, you’re officially stuck with me with the label of being best friends.”

Hyunjin teases, lips curling up into a smile. “Can’t you be a little bit more romantic ?” Although he’s decently attractive, he’s still one of those guys who bury themselves in hopeless romance just because he spends way too much time on Netflix watching some random sappy show while Kkami is watching some stupid dog documentary right next to him on the couch. 

“Fine, I also got myself one. We’re matching.” You confess, showing him your band resting nicely around your index finger. “Since I just know you so well, are you happy with your present now birthday boy ?” 

You finish it off by slipping the ring onto his finger like a cherry on top of a sundae, watching in amusement at how his face is lighting up with joy. “Wow,” He manages the breath out, as light as a feather. “You’re so fucking cheesy, I hate you.” 

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. You have a whole party waiting for you to inhale. Cakes and junk food and all.”

When you stand up right again, shivers run down on your spine at the cold breeze passing by. The wind greets concrete and your skin just the same, tearing through the air and banging loudly against your eardrums. Hyunjin suddenly grabs the sides of your face, still keeping a good distance between you two. Your cheeks are instantly tinted pink at his touch. “Y/N ! Can you hear me ?!” He tries to shout over the wind but fails miserably. 

“What ??” You ask loudly, not being able to catch what he was trying to say. 

“No, you can’t hear me ??”

“What ? I can’t hear you !”

He beams at you and the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. “I have something to tell you !” If he’s doing this now, there’s no going back. 

“I still can’t hear you !”

Hyunjin ignores your confused expression. He slowly inhales to take a deep breath before shouting his heart out at you. “Y/N, I’ll protect you ! No matter what !”  

You can’t quite understand what he’s trying to convey to you but seeing him smiling so widely like this, you know that you could never trade him for anything else. Because no one has ever made you feel this way before, heart pounding inside your rib cage so loudly just by looking at him. You like how you can just see him, and be happy. 

He’s irreplaceable.

six.

Felix glares at the silver band wrapping around your finger, one that’s particularly matching with Hyunjin’s. “So what ? You two are dating now ?” 

“Lee Felix I swear to god, for the tenth time, it’s a just birthday present !” You cry loudly at your best friend overreaction. 

Jeongin butts in. “Yeah right, rings, matching and all. Don’t you think that’s a little bit romantic ?” You’re so fed up with these theatre kids it’s actually ridiculous, you’d rather be cursed than have them singsong into your ears everyday about how you and Hyunjin are acting somewhat sketchy. Sure, being dramatic is naturally what they do for a passion but sometimes you just can’t help it but snap at them to go and kiss a statue. 

“That’s the point of it, dipshit.” Hyunjin sips on his drink obnoxiously, reading through the final page of his reading assignment in a haze. He’s a little bit out of it from running around all day to not get yelled at by his professors for being late to every single damn lecture. “I’m desperate, I need something cute to lighten up my sad life so don’t judge me.”

Jisung suddenly pries loudly because unlike you or Hyunjin, he actually gives zero fuck about publicity and personal information. “Hyunjin and Y/N ? I ship it ! Since you both have been super single and super antisocial for so long, why not date each other ? Get married even, don’t you dare forget my invitation.” 

Needless to say, he quickly earns a smack on the head from Seungmin, hard. Hard enough to knock some logic and common sense into that little disturbing glimpse of thing that they call ‘a brain’ inside his head. “God, Han, you’re so dumb. If you want them to both choke on each other’s bacteria and die, then yeah, hit a five-star restaurant up with that reservation.” 

Sometimes Seungmin wonders why he even befriended Han Jisung in the first place. They nearly threw hands at each other back in highschool because Jisung would constantly forget his stuff inside Seungmin’s locker and Chan had to manually pull them apart later. 

“Actually..” Hyunjin fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “I think I might have my eyes on someone.” Your heart automatically sinks at his words. Is this what betrayal feels like ? How come he’s never told you before ? Didn’t he promise that he’d never hide anything from you ? Does your friendship mean nothing to him at all ? 

You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t once thought about dating Hyunjin. But you don’t really see the point because it’s just a label over your relationship, it’s not gonna change how you treat each other. At least it’s not gonna change how you treat him. 

But in the end, you want nothing but the best for him so you’re obligated to become his dating counselor. 

Felix tuts eagerly. “Ooh, spill the tea. I’m here for it.”

“Let me guess, it’s that girl from Literature & Criticism 19B ?” Jeongin yawns lazily. Apparently he’s not digging the fact that Hyunjin doesn’t have any non-platonic interest in you. 

Hyunjin shakes his head profusely. “No ! We barely talk, it was only for a presentation from last month. And also I feel kinda awkward around her. Things never click between us.” 

Then, he proceeds to continue with dreamy eyes. “The girl that I’m talking about is so beautiful, so smart, so brave. She enjoys food like no other, like no one is watching and isn’t ashamed of the fact that she can live off donuts and Netflix for three weeks straight. She’s honest, playful but also very gentle and caring. Kinda reminds me of my mom, which is weird but whatever. Maybe people finding a sense of comfort in their partner who’s similar to their parents is a thing.” 

The look in his eyes makes your heart crack a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. It’s that kind of look that you’ve never seen before but know too well what’s behind those brown eyes of his. The goddamn look one can only have when they’re thinking about that special someone who effortlessly makes their heart swell, who puts a smile on their face no matter what. It’s also that kind of look that you have whenever you’re thinking about Hyunjin. 

“Alright lover boy,” You crack a smile, rolling up your sleeves because things are about to go down. “You’ve just got yourself a dating counselor. A good old trusty friend who’s gonna be there if you accidentally have a mini mental breakdown on your first date.” 

“What do you know about dating ?” Felix’s more than stingy comment just stabs your sky high ego like a needle pricking the tip of a finger. 

You kick his knee from under the table, earning a low grunt in return. “I am the best in the business. Jackson Wang and Mark Tuan ? I did that.” 

Then you lace your fingers together neatly and look at Hyunjin dead in the eye. “So, what’s your ideal first date ?” 

He makes a thinking face. “I haven’t thought about that yet but maybe.. a hike ?” 

“Huh, cool.” You take a total of ten full seconds to process what he just said. 

You deadpan. “It’s a hard no. Consider the fact that she needs nothing but donuts and Netflix in her life, you’re gonna have to rage war with Satan in order to get her out of the house. Popcorn and blankets are total necessities, make them extra fuzzy too. Let’s stick a pin in that, we’ll get back to it later.” 

Felix asks, followed by a loud yawn. “Copy that, what shows is she into ?”

Hyunjin lets out a prolonged sigh. “I’m not so sure but she hates rom-coms and sappy dramas with a passion.” If you’re being completely honest, he really needs to calm down because if a girl is willing to cuddle with him, she’ll literally watch anything. And by that, you mean she will definitely pass out after the long winded introduction of the two protagonists. 

“Sounds like a gal who’d watch The Umbrella Academy.” And you totally didn’t say that just because it’s your favorite show. Because for once, Netflix actually didn’t produce something that was undeniably shitty. 

Hyunjin sounds uncertain. “I have never seen it before.” 

“But he can ?” Jeongin raises a brow.

You shake your head gently. “The show is vicious, violent and contains extremely disturbing content along with really shitty relationships between siblings. Also, the humor doesn’t suit you. Does a fifty-year-old man who’s stuck inside a thirteen-year-old boy’s body and is also someone who fell in love with a mannequin, grew up in a broken family, and became a murderer who timetravels sound enjoyable or what ?” 

Seungmin makes a face. “That can be a dealbreaker.” 

“Meet us halfway here !” Jisung clatters loudly. 

“Sorry, let me back it up a little bit.” You put your hands up in defense. “Hyunjin, it doesn’t matter if all you want to do is go out on a hike and she just wants to curl up into a ball inside her blanket. It doesn’t matter if you guys have different taste in movies. Nothing matters if she truly feels the same way for you because as long as the feeling is mutual, she’d definitely do anything to satisfy your picky ass.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He turns his head to face the window and a grin quietly curls its way up on his lips. 

You should have seen the look on your face. 

seven.

Woojin growls at you from your laptop screen. “It’s one in the morning ! Get the fuck back to sleep !” 

He’s extra cranky today because he just finished off his final paper before graduation happens. Running on one hour of sleep per day with a cup of espresso doesn’t sound like the most ideal thing to do but fuck that, he’s not gonna throw all those years of crying over overdue projects in the trash. 

You on the other hand, are so fucking close to soil your pants because your heart is literally dangling off the edge. It’s either gonna roll backwards and land safely as if nothing has ever happened or everything’s going downhill from there. An endless pit of impending misery. And you’d hate to see yourself shedding tears while hogging a bucket of ice cream in your bed like a psychopath. So your only option is unfortunately, your hard headed, dumbass brother. 

But he’s not a complete idiot because his brotherly sixth sense is still there, and it’s never been better. “Okay, something’s up. Spill before I personally drag my ass to the hospital and beat you up to get something out of you.” 

You stutter, tripping over your own words like an absolute fool. “It’s— uhm… whatever, it’s not a secret anymore. It’s— it’s—“

“It’s Hwang Hyunjin.” Your brother reads your mind like a magician, leaving you utterly speechless. But it’s not even a surprise because apparently, everyone knows about your feelings for Hyunjin, just not Hyunjin himself. He’s unbelievably dumb even when Minho and Jisung keep on hinting at him in a not very subtle way. And that makes you wonder why you even fell for him in the first place. Even that fat cat who always takes naps on your balcony knows because you’d be smiling stupidly while FaceTime-ing Hyunjin all the time. It’s a miracle that the cat has not once given you a dirty look. 

You sigh. “Yeah, I‘m confused.”

“About what ?” Woojin huffs tiredly and blows some strands of hair out of his face. 

You blurt, panic mode is fully on. “About why I like Hwang Hyunjin so fucking much when he already had romantic interests in another girl !” 

Woojin thinks you’re being ridiculous and stubborn at the same time, which can make things that much harder for him to break it down for you. Firstly, if one is loved, then one is loved. There’s no reason needed for loving. This might sound like total bullshit, but ‘love at first sight’ is a thing, people are just too heartbroken to accept it these days. Secondly, if you really like Hyunjin all that much, you should be spilling your heart out at him, not at your brother. But whatever, Woojin is one step closer to pushing you towards confessing to your crush because he’s gifted with the ability to prevent you from doing anything dumb. 

“Then what makes you not wanting to like him ?” 

You widen your eyes. “What ?”

Woojin shakes his head gently, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. “You can’t love all of him. This is real life, not a fucking John Legend’s song. If you don’t even know what you hate about him in the first place, you’re not gonna know why you like him relentlessly.” His words slowly sink into your mind, trains after trains of thoughts are dashing through your mind at the speed of light. Goddamn, your brother is right. 

“Gosh, I don’t know. I can’t hate him even when I want to.” Before you can pick every single strand of hair off your head, Woojin once again snaps you back into reality with a serious look on his face. He’s not messing around this time. “One, he’s a CF-er. And two, I’m not gonna be the one who walks down the aisle to have them announce our marriage. Three, he only sees me as a friend.” There’s no happy ending for people like you, especially you. The moment you found out that Hyunjin’s also a CF-er, you knew all too well that it’s over for you both. 

Your brother scrunches his nose in annoyance. He really should have signed you up for a dating counseling session. “You don’t know what the future holds. It could be better, it could be worse. Or nothing would change at all. Whatever happens, humans still yearn for the happy ending of their own imagination. Because after all, we were the one who pushed ourselves towards dead ends.” 

“What’s so wrong with loving someone ?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, but how we love them.” 

Again, Woojin’s right. Every minute, every second, every moment with Hyunjin always leaves you completely stripped and vulnerable. All of your concerns, insecurities, and strength are revealed unintentionally. And the walls that you’ve spent years building ? Mercilessly destroyed. Someday, you’ll either look back on it and smile or you’ll realize that once you’ve fallen, there’s no turning back. You just can’t control who you’ll fall for. 

Being in love with Hyunjin is another reason why you believe that life hates you to the very core of your bones. It’s like the whole universe is playing with your mind, because all it takes is to make Hyunjin exists at the same time as you do. That alone is enough to mess up your entire existence. 

You cover your face with your blanket, voice muffled beneath the soft fabric. “What’s your point then ?”

“My point,” Woojin sits straight up from his bed and yawns in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible. “is that you can still fall for Hyunjin even when he’s a CF-er, even when he likes someone else. Hyunjin is still Hyunjin. Cystic fibrosis or none, he’s still just Hyunjin. And you love him for who he is. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t get mad when things don’t work out because loving is hard, loving is painful. You just try your best not to get hurt. Every scar has a story and it represents how you’ve grown throughout time. So it doesn’t matter if you accidentally trip and make a fool of yourself. You simply like Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m not going against that.”

You unknowingly smile. The perks of having an older brother always come at the most unexpected time. You suddenly feel bad for all of those kids who grew up without siblings. 

“So are you telling me not to be all sad and miserable ?”

Woojin nods absentmindedly. “Precisely. One day you might be strong enough to smile as you watch him intertwining his fingers with another woman’s. Give them your blessings, countless words will never be enough. What they want is your genuine honesty, how you’re truly happy for them. After that, take a different turn, or just move on as it is in silence. But do not let the memories that you made with him become meaningless because trust me, that hits harder. And that’s how you can love someone without being petty about it for the rest of your life.” 

You say. “I think I can hold back my tears when Hyunjin’s getting married now.”

“But he needs to know first.” Woojin interrupts you abruptly. 

You break out of your trance and ask. “Knows what ?”

“About your stupid feelings for him !” Woojin is quick enough to hold back the scream stuck inside his throat because if not, Chan’s gonna grill his ass so hard for making questionable noises in the middle of the night while his roommate is stressing over a song that’s yet to be complete. The double life between a college student and a SoundCloud rapper isn’t as hot as people tend to think. It just consists of a whole lot of cramming homework while trying to come up with a new batch of lyrics every two weeks. 

“He deserves to know that. The sooner the better.”

Conveniently, your phone buzzes on your night stand. 

[ 1:17a.m. ] 

hyunjin | I’m gonna do it. 

hyunjin | I’ll confess to her.

hyunjin | this is so terrifying what do I do ?

eight.

“Y/N wait up, you still have to take your medication !” Mark yells after your panicked figure dashing through the hallway while he’s pushing a cart with an awful amount of medicines piled up. 

You shout back at him abruptly. “I’ll be back in an hour ! Don’t tell Jackson about this !” Whatever, you hate being on a drug trials anyway. Having multiple pills shoved down your throat each and everyday makes you sick to the core. It seems like you’re only getting closer to being buried six feet under the ground. But that’s not the point. 

Point is, if you’re going to die sooner or later, there’s no way in hell you’d let your life end before you tell Hyunjin how you truly feel about him. 

“Hyunjin, where exactly are you going ?” You manage to talk in between short breaths while having him on the other line. 

He replies bluntly, uneven breathing and quick footsteps can be heard. “You know how everyone has their own youth, right ?” You keep running despite the fact that what he said just makes no sense. What on Earth is he planning on doing ? 

“I also have a youth of my own.” He pauses for a while. “But it seems like… my youth is one to be forever reserved.”

You shake your head furiously, confused at what he’s trying to convey. “Hyunjin, I don’t get it. One moment you’re talking about how you’ll confess to the love of your life and now you’re telling me this ? Did something happen ?” 

Hyunjin ignores your question and continues. “My parents would always urge each other to work harder, to make more money so that I can have a lung transplant and prolong my life day after day. But it’ll cost us five hundred thousand dollars, eight hundred even. So I was more than happy to tell them that I’m ready to stop walking on this beautiful flower path anytime. Then, I saw the heartbroken look in my mom’s eyes. That look, it’s— it’s haunting, and hurt me profoundingly.”

His breath hitches, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Knowing that he’s in such a vulnerable state but there’s nothing you can do about it hits so hard that you hate yourself. “There was a man who came up and met me in my hospital room one day, told me that he saw every single play that I’ve participated in. He wanted to sponsor me, to let me fully enjoy my own youth, to give me the money to fly to the States, to get a lung transplant, and lead me to stardom afterwards.”

“But..” He suddenly chuckles. “I have no desire to receive his generosity. Not even one bit. Now, before you start yelling at me, hear me out. I know that I’m selfish, I know that I’m being stubborn but the life that he’s talking about. That’s not the life that I’ve always dreamt of. The life that I wanted, is one where all of my family and friends, are eternally safe, and happy. That’s it, it’s as simple as that. Hence, I’m willing to give that chance to someone else. Someone who’s very special and close to my heart.” 

Hyunjin lets out a muffled sob on the other line and you’ve never felt so helpless before. You just wish you could run to him, tell him that everything’s gonna be okay, and touch him. You don’t know how someone who’s so close can be so far away at the same time. 

“Because.. well, because cystic fibrosis isn’t just leading me on a path that’s one step closer to death, but it’s also threatening the happiness of the girl I’ve unfortunately fallen for. Unfortunately, that is. She’s always been the biggest ‘what if’ because there were nights where insomnia would creep up on my spine, it was impossible to shut my eyes with her on my conscience. Because why me ? Why me ? I just need a little bit more time, just a little so that I can see her smile, so that I can hold her close, so that I can finally tell her how I really feel.” 

“Time is a currency that you can only use, not make. And I’m already running low. Obviously, I can care less even if I die tomorrow. But as long as I’m alive, let me live as merrily as possible, as happily as possible, and to be able to see my loved ones as long as possible.”

Just then, it feels like the whole world just stops spinning when all you can hear is the sound of your shoes tapping against the ground, and him sobbing like a distressed child, raw deep down from the inside. You didn’t realize that you’re crying uncontrollably until salty drops of tears trickle down on your cheeks and drench the collar of your shirt. They blur your vision but you keep on running because Hyunjin needs you, he needs you now. 

The icy grey sky is like a piece of fabric draped over the whole town. Dark clouds snuggle closer to each other as they hold in the heavy rain in their delicate forms. All of a sudden, rain pours over you with a roar, thunders grumble vigorously in the distance. The coldness of its touch pierces right through your skin and chills run down your spine beneath your clothes that are now soaking wet. Your footsteps never once falter and continue to move on down the slippery path. 

“To love you as long as possible.” Hyunjin breathes out, as light as a feather. “Y/N, I hate to break it to you but I no longer want to be friends with you. Because I already love you too much to accept the label of being best friends.” He says with such determination and huffs. “With that being said, I’ll now consider the ring on my finger as a proposal. And to answer your question on my birthday, yes, I would love to walk with you on this path with the remaining time. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, to care for you, to be someone that you can lean on. So what do you say ? Are you ready to take my hand and my hand only ?”

“Yes, I am.” You stop once you’re right in front of the café that Jisung used to work in, where many unforgettable memories were made throughout time. And on the opposite side of the road, is Hyunjin. Your knees grow weak at the sight of him. Damp hair, teary eyes with a smile on his face. He’s absolutely ethereal and it’ll only take you a few more steps to get to him. “Hyunjin !” You wave at him, the balls of your feet automatically send you running towards his direction. 

You feel like you’re hazing because everything’s all too good to be true. How he’s looking at you lovingly, how you’re yearning for his touch, how you’re so close to have him in your arms. Sadly, the sound of rubber tyres hissing against the concrete floor snaps you back to reality. Before you can even process anything, there are two lights ahead blinding your eyes. With a jolt, you realize that those lights belong to a car. 

You didn’t know how it happened but the next thing you know is the feeling of the entire weight of your body is pinning you to the ground. Every single limb, every part, every organ inside your body feels like they are being crumbled like a piece of paper. Pain, there’s so much pain. The metallic taste of blood is soaking through your teeth, leaving you in that weird grey area between being awake and being unconscious. You can feel your flesh being torn open, your bones cracking, your lungs caving in for cramped air in silence. Silence, that scares you more than the blow itself. It feels like an eternity, just lying there, completely paralyzed as you wait for Death to arrive. 

It seems as if the agonizing pain is the only thing that's keeping you alive. 

“Y/N ! Y/N !” Hyunjin calls out to you helplessly as he cups the sides of your cheeks. Seconds later, you can feel his mouth against yours, giving you the amount of air that your lungs has been dying to have. “Y/N, stay with me, stay with me.” He mumbles against your ear before wrapping your arms around his neck to carry you on his back. Hyunjin is chasing time through the night, through the hellish downpour to not waste a single minute, a single second to keep you safe. Because he’s just so sick, so fucking sick of life for taking everything away from him. He’s not gonna lose you, not like this. 

“Hyunjin,” You whisper weakly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t fucking die on me or I’m never gonna be able to forgive you.” 

“Hyunjin, I’m kinda sleepy.” You laugh, tasting the coopery blood inside your mouth. “I’ll just take a nap, just for a while, okay ?” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, you can’t tell whether he’s just being stubborn or he can’t hear you with the heavy rain down pouring onto him. But that doesn’t matter anymore because you’re far too exhausted to start arguing with him. Naturally, you’re going to allow yourself to black out either way. 

nine.

Weeks later, you’re standing on the rooftop by yourself to run away from the stuffy air of the hospital, those floors and walls that all have an undertone of bleach. They suffocate you, everything does. 

You watch the sunset at horizon, enjoying the majestic sight in front of you as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever witness. Rich hues of red, yellow, orange blend into one another gracefully, dancing in between the pink fluffy puffs of clouds. Your spirit soars into the distance as you inhale deeply, feeling refreshed after a long day. It does feel nice to not have all sorts of machines attached to your body like ropes that are tying you down into a single place and trapping you inside a tiny box. 

Everyday, you’d sneak out of your room to come up here, and meet him again. 

“Y/N,” You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of his voice echoing inside your ears. “By the time that you’re listening to this audio, I would probably, you know, be gone.” 

A single tear silently roll down on your cheek. “But I’ll tell you what. I’m not scared of dying, because having the persistent information that I’m always one step closer to hell than everyone else has accidentally made me numb. I am terribly afraid of one thing though.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to be separated from my friends, my family, and from you. Moreover, I don’t want to see the people whom I love so devotedly suffer just because of me. I know what you’re doing, wipe those tears off your face right now. Chin up, and smile. Or you’ll end up complaining about your face getting puffy again.”  

You laugh at his words, and attempt to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “Once I’m no longer walking on this flower path with you, that means a new chapter is ready to be open. I cannot thank you enough for bumping into me that day. And thank you for agreeing to practice my lines with me. I could have never played Captain Hook if it weren’t for you. And thank you, for the ring, it’s the most precious thing I've ever had on my hand. But I’ve figured… you deserve a new life. I know that five years doesn’t sound like much but maybe in those five years, things might change and there will finally be a cure for cystic fibrosis.”

“You might think, how could you possibly move on without me ? Well, think of me as a dandelion. Oddly charming, with a short life span. But I’ll never really go away because at the end of its life, a dandelion’s pistil will give birth to countless of seeds. Those seeds will be carried away by the wind and continue to grow, to breed, to multiply themselves for so many more purposes.” 

Hyunjin suddenly starts crying quietly, you can hear how he’s trying to muffle his sobs and it makes your heart shatter into a million pieces. There’s absolutely nothing that you can do. “I’m very content with the life current that I have, or had. At least I’ll die knowing that I have no regrets.” He chuckles. “But there’s still something that I need to tell you, just in case. Not to be pessimistic, but just in case.”

“Y/N, I love you, more than anything in the whole wide world. It’s so frustrating because there were times where I wish I could just have you in my arms, to feel your warmth, to kiss you, to touch you. I don’t care about labels because that wouldn’t change my feelings for you. I’d still love you foolishly because I care too much. Too much that it hurts. I want to spend the little amount of remaining time with you. I even don’t know if you’re the one but I need you in my life. You and only you.” 

His voice cracks. “...just don’t miss me too much, okay ?” 

You can swear that it’s not hazing but if you look far enough, Hyunjin is still there, waving at you with a smile on his face. 

Approximately six feet away. 

[iamnightduchess]

Is it just me or it's getting difficult to find theories and meta on this fandom esp in reddit without someone going "yes genocide is 100% the solution" and as someone who lives under duterte's regime whose followers echo the same sentiments it's getting kinda difficult to navigate through fandom space without seeing those uncomfortable takes

Hello dear Nonnie,

Don't worry, it's not you, it's actually the general consensus in Tumblr that almost all is against a genocidal overlord 😢 but, if we were to share our opinions & stances on that for SnK fandom specifically in all other socmed channels (Reddit, Twitter, FB, IG, YT), get ready to be mentally recked, stand corrected & sniped virtually on the spot. Their genocidal overlord can do no wrong & all the alliance members are ungrateful, idiots & dumbasses for working collectively to stop millions of people and the earth from dying.

I feel so sorry for the people who has this type of mindset: their ancestors, their families and themselves have not been born in a situation where they've been through oppression. Eldians are no different. They were the first oppressor, then now the oppressed and these readers strongly believes that the rest of the world deserves to be fucked up. Eldians in Marley & Eldians in Paradis are like two children that was forced apart and separated when their parents divorced (Fritz 145 & Tyburs/remaining Eldians in Marley). Yet both parents remarried to toxic partners who, also, instead of suggesting of working together for the children's future + greater good, used the children as weapons to attack the other side.

For people from multiracial countries or countries that have or is suffering a regime/administration run by a tyrant, it is always ingrained in us to strive for unity, peace, humanity & livelihood. We were told stories of not of our oppressors but of how us, the people work together to fight for our independence. All different races, we love each other & we want our country be a much better, peaceful safer place for our children. Thus why, Isayama's work hits us so damn much in our hearts. It hits too close to home. Genocide is never a solution. Because even if Eren succeeds & only the Islanders are left alive, bet you how long it'll take for the remaining humans to fight each other even if they're both from the same place, have the same blood. E.g Kiyomi reiterated this to Floch & before that, the Jeagerists were a prime example of what extremists would do.

I myself, is from a country like Marley, where we have asylum-seeking refugees and we are multiracial. We have differences without a doubt but instead of a melting pot, we are a salad bowl where we mixed together in harmony but still retains our unique cultural identity, faith & attributes with respect for each other. Even if you've been blessed enough to not have to go through all that oppression in history, it doesn't take a genius to appreciate all living beings. It's humanity. The world had treated Paradis as an evil entity but you fight hate with love. It's easier said than done, yes, but you and I, we're both living proofs (like Ackermans & Azumabitos!) in the real world that peace has to be fought through unity, empathy, compassion and not violence or mass killings.

They said, the Eldians in Marley have thrown them under the bus but Niccolo & Onyankopon are amazing examples that the rest of the world can coexist with Paradis, but you have to be patient, work hard at it & you need time. My country managed to achieve our independence in 1957 because of our first Prime Minister's efforts; he has a globalist mentality like Armin has. What he did was if Armin goes to Marley to table a thick binder detailing our constitution proposals for an alliance/truce with Paradis. He believes in humanity & he united all races under one country name & constitution. It has been done in reality. (But some people just want to see the world burn)

Oh but no, their genocidal overlord doesn't have much time, (he's dying in four years!) & he feels genocide is the only solution. This is why I agree with Reiner when he said that the Founding couldn't have gone to a much worst person. OG Ymir & Eren are proof that tremendous powers would destroy worlds if they're given to children whose thinking have not fully developed & mature to be logical & objective. (I also want to share my grievances on OG!Ymir. I used to sympathize with her but the moment she got the powers & she went back to offer herself again as the tyrant King's slave, my sympathy just went down the toilet. She was a classic victim who has Stockholm Syndrome & she allowed herself to be manipulated by an abusive man just because she needed to be validated when she has this God-like powers. She should've killed that evil king from the beginning & ally with Marley. Yet now, she's using Eren as a tool/vessel to fuck the whole world up for her own mistake that she made.) also, these people are in denial that the MC/hero can do no wrong. That's the beauty of Isayama's writing: he flipped the table with Reiner as the MC and these people lose their minds. What if he always wanted the story to start with Eren but ends with Reiner?

Thus why, you can only still find a more positive environment that are more 'sound', 'sane' & 'humane' only here in Tumblr. However, I've also personally noticed the sudden appearance of new Tumblr accounts of these toxic members from other channels, sending unsavory asks & commenting with unsavory phrases on mutuals & some of the top posts on my page 😂

Hang in there, Nonnie. It's hard to voice out the truth sometimes but as long as you keep on breathing, you shouldn't stop fighting for humanity's survival just like the alliance!

People can disagree with our opinions but I drew the line at genocide & mass killings. Period. Even criminals have a legislation & justice system before they are ruled out for execution. Eren is a child that's been given the most dangerous powers. His own version of freedom is twisted & skewed. The Alliance is willing to die first, fighting for the world's humanity's survival than living peacefully (really? With the Jeagerists own regime?) in Paradis at the expense of the bloods shed and lives lost by millions around the world.

I'm so sorry for this barrage of texts, Nonnie. I get very emotional when those who supports genocide shits on the humanitarian's principles. You can't also be in other channels without getting brain damage of the 'genocide is right/the only way' sentiments. We can't control what other people posts but the only thing we can, is: how we react to them.

I hope Tumblr could still be a positive safe space if I can help it!

xoxo

Thank you for the Ask! ☀️ Take care & stay safe ❤️

[headfullofstories]

Truly Monstrous Luck - part 2

I wake up in a new room, and the first thing I notice is that my binder is off. Fuck. I bolt upright and bring my arms up to cover my chest. Oh no, oh no no no no no. If someone had to take it off of me, then… someone saw my body. I throw up a little bit in my mouth at the thought.

I look around the room I'm in. I'm on a cot, and… oh god, there're my tits. I curl my knees up to block them from sight, and continue to survey my surroundings. The room as a few more cots scattered about, most of them empty. There's a desk at the end of the room, currently occupied by a girl who looks a little older than me, skin the color of volcanic glass - a sort of deep blackish purple, covered in white freckles that look like stars. Her lavender hair is tied up into a bun, and she's wearing a denim jacket. Fuck, she's pretty.

She looks up at me suddenly, corneas jet black and irises a startling silver. If I was still alive I’d probably have a ridiculous blush all across my face right now.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “Yvonne was freaking out when you collapsed, thought she pushed you too hard with that walk, which was… kind of the case, but c’mon dude, you had to know this was gonna happen if you kept this thing on.” She holds up my ratty old Underworks binder, stretched and worn from years of constant use. I’m not quite sure the last time I took that thing off, whether it was last night or the day before, but my ribs are sore as hell now.

“There’s a recommended maximum time to wear these for a reason, y’know.” She sighs, dropping it onto the desk and picking up a walkie talkie. “Yvonne?” She asks into the radio, “your kid’s awake.”

A few moments later Yvonne runs through the doorway at the far side of the room near the desk, looks around the room for a moment and sees me.

“Oh thank god.” She sighs, walking up to me. “Camilla said it was probably nothing to worry about, but… I didn’t wanna cause you more grief today.”

“You gonna adopt every single fledgling you find, Yvonne?” The girl at the desk grumbles, looking down at her phone. “That’s… five now, right? Over the past 15 years? You should introduce New Kid to the others.”

“Well, none of my other 4 have left, which is a lot more than can be said for a lot of people here.” Yvonne reasons, before turning back to me. “I’m sorry that we had to take the binder off, Victor, but you’re not supposed to sleep with it on. Or do strenuous activity, which is on me, but you really should follow the doctor’s recommendations on these things.”

“I know, but… it’s… too much, sometimes, not to wear it.” I reply cautiously, doing my best to use the right words. “I get sensory overload really easily, and looking at my body makes it… a lot worse, most of the time. Being on T has helped with a lot of the visual dysphoria, but until I get surgery I’m gonna risk it with the long hours.”

The girl at the desk grumbles something under her breath, then picks up her walkie talkie again and mutters something into the speaker. Yvonne looks saddened by this and mutters something about the healthcare system in this country, but doesn’t object outright. After a few minutes Arthur walks into the room, exchanges a few brief words with the girl at the desk, then walks over to me and stands next to where Yvonne is sitting. He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

“Hey kid, what are your thoughts on top surgery?” He asks, sounding a little fed up. “Because what happened today can’t happen again, and if you fuck up your ribs there’s only so much vampiric healing can fix, and you’re gonna have a bitch of an afterlife.”

My vision goes double for a moment as I try to process what I just heard. “T-top surgery?”

“We have contacts at this practice out on Long Island, some people who are… specially equipped to handle people like us.” He elaborates, “We’ll cover all of the medical expenses, so you won’t have to worry about selling your fucking soul to the american healthcare system.”

Against my better judgement, I start sobbing. Arthur looks confused and Yvonne looks worried.

“Hey kid, you good?” Arthur inquires cautiously.

“I'm really sorry,” I manage to blubber out between hiccups, “but… th-that’s the closest thing to good news I’ve had in m-m-months.”

He nods. “I had bad luck when I was your age, too. Broke a rib wearing ace bandages when i was 19, couldn't bind for a year and damn near killed myself. In a fucked up way, dying was the best thing to happen to me.”

I look up at him, wipe my tears out of my eyes, and calm down a little. “You-you’re trans?”

He flashes a demonic looking smile, all teeth and a bit of pride, and lifts up his shirt to flash twin scars sprawling across his chest.

"Came out at the Stonewall Riots when I was 18 years old." He explains, still smiling wide and wild. “Year and a half before I was turned; when that happened I was a little younger than you, I think.”

I look at him in awe. “I’ve never met a trans person that was so much older than me.”

“For real?” He snorts, crossing his arms. “I should introduce you to Liz, then. 600 years old, turned when she was 14, didn't start transitioning until she was 87. I think she came over here on a Spanish Galleon, I'm pretty sure she originally made landfall in Guatemala..."

"Art, I know you're trying to focus, but you keep getting off topic." The girl at the desk yells over.

"Thank you Camilla, I realize that." He growls at the girl. Oh, so she's the Camilla person Yvonne mentioned. "Shit, did I forget to take my adderall again?”

I suddenly realize I don’t know where my backpack is. Oh fuck no, that thing has everything I own in it - my T, my journal, my charger, my spare clothes…

"Where's my backpack?" I ask Yvonne, panicked. I can feel my leg start involuntarily bouncing. “I need it, it has everything I have in it…”

Yvonne leans down and reaches under the cot I’m on and pulls out my ratty jansport, setting it down on my lap. I cling to it for dear life. It’s too late to stop the shaking, but at least it’s not gonna get any worse.

I see Yvonne go to rest her hand on my shoulder, but Arthur grabs her wrist and mutters something in her ear. My vision goes out of focus again as I try to calm myself down.

After a few minutes the shaking stops and I look up at the two now even more worried adults in front of me.

"Sorry…" I mutter, looking at my feet. "I… I need to know where this thing is or I… lose it, a little. It's really stupid, I don't know why it happens, it's super overreactive… my teachers all thought I just wanted attention in school."

“They…” Arthur starts, then hisses something unintelligible before looking at me in the eyes. The eye contact makes me a little nervous, but I do my best to hold it. “You’re not looking for attention if you have big emotions. That’s bullshit.”

I look down at my hands now, pulling at my joints and popping my knuckles. “My parents always said I’m broken and my brother thinks it’s something I can manage. I love my brother, but it’s… hard to get him to understand.”

He nods a little, then looks over at Camilla. “Can you check when Boris is open next?” He shouts over, to which Camilla gives a thumbs up. He turns his attention back to me, and shoots me a quick finger gun. “You need a new bus card, right? And you were going to your brother’s house when you got attacked, did you call him when you were heading over?”

I shake my head. “He was at work when I was heading over, and I have a key to his apartment so I was just gonna head over and wait for him.”

“Do you feel comfortable staying here for the night?”

"I think… that'll be better than going to my brother's house. I’m not sure if I can deal with the subway yet…”

He nods, mutters something to Yvonne, then heads out. Yvonne stretches out her hand, a silent invitation to get up and follow her. I take it after a moment of consideration, suddenly overwhelmingly nervous about my entire situation. What if these people are bad? What if they want to use me? I consider running, but after a moment I start thinking logically again. At the very least, Yvonne and Arthur are good. That’s enough for right now.

I grab my binder from Camilla on the way out, her silver eyes piercing my very soul, a silent warning to bind properly. I put the binder in my backpack, and throw the bag over my shoulder.

Yvonne guides me through ancient looking halls, lined with candelabras fitted with dim mercury light bulbs. I pull out my phone to check the time - 1:34PM. Shit, the day’s still only halfway done. I try to read Yvonne’s expression as we walk, but all I see is worry. No indication of where we might be going or what Arthur was whispering to her about.

Some people look at us as we walk by - some stare for a moment, but mostly they just glance briefly then look away. I keep as close as I can to Yvonne, and eventually we stop in front of a big pair of wooden doors.

“This is the common room,” she explains, gesturing towards the doors. “It has the best wifi in the building, it also has public computers, some books, board games… the works. I’ll leave you here, but feel free to explore around. There are signs at most of the intersecting hallways, so it’s not too hard to get lost around here, but most people will be willing to give you directions if you get turned around. You good with that, Victor?”

I give her a thumbs up, and hang outside of the common room until she disappears down the hallway. I debate going inside for a moment, but decide against it. There’s probably people in there, and people means social interaction. It means people seeing me without my binder on. I subconsciously start hitting the heels of my hands together as I debate what to do from here before deciding to head further down the hallway, away from where Yvonne and I came from. I cross my arms in an attempt to hide my chest, which is a little counterintuitive since it's probably just drawing more attention to that area.

I walk around for a few minutes without really seeing anybody, and after a little while I start to zone out, looking at the ironwork on the candelabras instead of where I’m walking, when I bump into someone. I yelp and jump back out of instinct, and the other person falls to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry!” I squeak as I start to fiddle with my backpack straps. “I didn’t see you!”

The person I knocked down, a boy with black hair and dark brown eyes, growls at me as he stands back up, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Um, m-m-my name’s Victor.” I respond, on the verge of tears.

“Alright, Victor, what the fuck are you? What are you doing here?” As soon as he’s fully upright he starts examining every detail of my face, and I realize that my mouth is still slightly open, so I slap a hand over it to cover my fangs.

“Oh, you’re a vamp.” He grumbles. “Were you one of those assholes who sells their blood to rogues, one of em went too far, threw you out?”

Suddenly I’m crying again. Three times in one day, what the hell? I start scratching my arms to try and counteract it. I try my best to look even smaller.

“Wh- oh fuck, don’t cry! I… fuck, I’m such a dumbass!” He hits his head a couple times. “Look, I’m really sorry, I have really bad impulse control issues, that was just the first thing that came to mind. Uh…”

It takes all of my willpower, but I manage to stop crying, only thing now the stimming is worse. I start hitting the heels of my hands together and tapping my left foot uncontrollably. “Um… thanks for the apology. Most of the time when I start crying I just get yelled at even worse.”

He looks at me, mild horror on his face, which I’m not quite sure if it’s from what he said earlier or what I said just now. “That’s fucked up.” He mutters, then he outstretches his hand. “I’m Adrian. Again, so sorry about what I said, I do not know what came over me. You’ve probably had a really rough day, huh?”

I take his hand after a brief moment of hesitation. His grip is really strong, I think normally I would be a little hurt by it but now it just feels like a very firm grip… wait, can I still be anemic if I'm a vampire?

"Um, yeah." I laugh a little, slightly intimidated by this guy. I'm automatically a little scared of anyone who makes me cry, but… I don't know. "It was kind of a shitty day before, but then with the… getting jumped and everything, and my life kind of being over, it's just been a whole lot worse."

"God, I'm an asshole." He says, a forced grin plastered to his face. "I completely understand if you never want to interact with me again."

"I'll think on that." I respond as I bring my arms back across my chest and start to focus on the wall right next to his head. "Uh, nice to meet you? Kind of?"

"Um, likewise." He responds as he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks off quickly. That was... weird.

[chillmichelle]

Marry Me 2

Part 1 is: https://chillmichelle.tumblr.com/post/176931344424/marry-me 

The door slams shut when she storms out.

The studio doors had always been heavy. They were made of this thick mahogany wood, meant to cut off all sounds from entering the studio during recording and writing.

Yet, as she slams the doors and storms out of the enclosed space, it sounds a million times heavier. There are tears rolling down her cheeks, they’re flushed from both anger and embarrassment. She wipes them away only for them to reappear.

Opening the door to her car, she gets in only to sit for a moment quietly. She didn’t have time to take in the situation while it was unfolding, didn’t have time to register the words she said.

“I wouldn’t want to marry someone who isn’t ever home anyways.”

She rests her head against the top of the steering wheel, closing her eyes and mentally considering the options she had. She wonders if her marriage is completely called off, if her engagement is over, and if she’s just thrown away some of the best years she’s ever had.

The idea makes her sad, the possibility of never having the opportunity to be with him again. But as soon as her sorrow comes, her anger hits her. That the man who supposedly loved her would say such harmful things, would propose only to neglect all responsibilities after that.

Sobbing until there are black stains under her red and puffy eyes, and salty tears staining her steering wheel, she prepares herself mentally to drive back to her shared home. She wonders if he’ll return after the words uttered by the both of them, or if he’ll make the decision to crash with a friend instead.

-

Harry sits in shock after she slams the door behind her, flinching at the loud sound of the heavy wood slamming against the door frame. He can still smell her perfume lingering in the space around him.

Truthfully, he didn’t even remember what the pictures of your wedding dress looked like because he wasn’t paying attention. She had entered the room just as he was placing the finishing touches on the production of one of the songs he thought would be the last piece to the ever so time consuming album

Which explains why he was so damn focused.

At first, he remained shocked. He doesn’t know how the turn of events occurred, but there’s an unmistakable feeling of guilt clawing away in his chest.

And that’s when he begins to panic.

His hands run through to the roots of his hair, tugging lightly on them as he stresses himself out. He mutters profanities under his breath, not too loudly but quietly enough to where both Mitch and Jeff hear him say “Shit, Shit, Fuck” from the corner of the room. They both want to intervene, but acknowledging the state he’s in, they make the decision not to.

“Are you okay?” Jeff finally asks gently, knowing anything could push Harry over the edge. Harry seems to be teetering on the edge of yelling and crying, overanalyzing everything as he rocks back and forth uncomfortably.

While Jeff expects him to scream, maybe even yell in anger at the absurdity of the situation, he sees his friend and client crying instead. Small streaks leak down his soft porcelain skin as he holds himself, like a child who’s just been scolded. He lets out a small cry in response to Jeff’s question.

“What do I do?” His voice sounds grainy at the sudden change in mood.

“God, Jeff, tell me how to fix this. I can’t-can’t lose her. Not this easily.”

His head shakes as more salty liquid escaped his eyes and splashes onto his cheeks. He imagines the possibility of no more planning ahead, no more late nights discussing what they’re going to name their 3rd child, or what breed of dog they’re going to get when they come back from their honeymoon.

And unexpectantly, Jeff smiles, grabbing Harry’s car keys before leading him out of the studio to begin to patch things up.

Harry doesn’t return for a few hours.

Every hour y/n spends expressing a series of different emotions.

During the first hour, she’s upset. She manages to enter Harry’s closet, her eyes scanning the Gucci suits probably worth more than three times the price of her “stupid” wedding dress. She feels the urge to destroy them, but realizing they’re just too beautiful to be torn apart in a fit of anger, she sighs and heads to the living room downstairs, willing to channel her anger elsewhere.

During the second hour, she wants to know where it went wrong. Where she could’ve told him “Hey, maybe stop working and focus on our wedding that’s only in a couple of weeks?” She wonders if things could’ve played out differently.

During the third our, she sulks indefinitely into her pillow in their shared room upstairs, wondering if he’s even going to return within the limits of the day.

Then, a door clicks open from downstairs. Normally, she wouldn’t have noticed it. But her sobbing has died down and she doesn’t have any sort of noise blaring from the sound system or the television. She jumps up from the pillow, knees folded underneath her as she sits on the bed. She mentally debates as to whether she should plop back down onto the comfortable mattress (given how expensive it was), or whether he should run downstairs to talk things out to him. She chooses an area between her two options, slowly and cautiously tip toeing downstairs in her furry slippers.

She sees him, sitting alone on their couch with a head of unorganized curls sitting sadly on his head. He slouches down tiredly, a large white box with a lid sitting next to him.

She clears her throat quietly and he doesn’t hear her. Working up all of her courage, she slowly asks “harry?” and he flinches. He nearly leaps up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his eyes quickly following her voice to the top of her stairs.

“Love…”

She averts her eyes, slowly regretting her decision as she remembers the last conversation they shared. Her gaze meets the tips of her slippers, biting down on her lips to keep a cry from falling out of them. Walking down the rest of the stairs, she’s overthinking, playing out every possible variation of the conversation they could have in her head and not considering the fact that they might actually work out.

The more she thinks, the more she wishes she wouldn’t have gone downstairs, and instead she wishes she would’ve faked sleep for the rest of the night. They had fought before, but never like this. Never to the point where neither of them knew what to say, or where to start.

“It wouldn’t do anything if I said I was sorry, would it?” He asks her. Y/n notices that Harry’s voice is more gravelly than usual. And while, in any other situation, she would’ve found the extra rasp appealing, right now she finds his voice painful.

She looks up at him, making brief eye contact before averting her eyes to the floor again. Harry sighs as he takes in her actions as a response.

They stand in silence once again. Although somewhere, they’re both aware of the knowledge that their relationship will eventually work out, they both get the feeling that it’s hanging on by a thread. A grey cloud lingering over their shared home.

“I want to save us.” He tells her, breaking the silence once again. “Don’t-” he catches a shaky breath, “Don’t want to lose yeh.” He breaths. Y/n isn’t able to hold back a sob as she lets it escape her sore throat, Harry’s hears thudding a little harder as he hears her hurt.

“Please say something.” He tells her, needing any sort of reassurance that they’ll be okay.

“I know I messed up, not just today but for the last few weeks. I should’ve made you the most important thing, but instead I was selfish and I made you wait because I knew you would.”

Y/N finally finds enough courage in herself to speak.

“You made me feel like you didn’t want to marry me.” She croaks out. The both make eye contact, tender and swollen eyes meeting each others, “Like I was just some nuisance and you regretted proposing to me.”

This time, he lets out a sob. His chest hurts as he imagines how she felt while he was laughing in the studio with his friends, he imagines how lonely she must’ve felt planning a wedding but having to repeatedly tell the arrangers that her husband was busy.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He whimpers, knees weakening until he falls back onto the couch behind him. She remains standing awkwardly in front of the staircase, watching as her tears fall onto the wooden floors beneath her, darkening the material.

“I know that’s not going to do anything, but I also know that i’ve been treating you so terribly. I know that you deserve better than-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he doesn’t even want to think of the possibility, “I know that you could do better. But I don’t want to end everything, not like this. Not with one fight.”

Y/N can’t help but agree that they shouldn’t end what they have over this. They were better than that, at least that’s what she thinks.

She doesn’t agree or disagree, still sobbing quietly but he understands what she’s feeling. So until she feels comfortable enough to talk to him, he decides he’ll keep speaking.

“I talked to our wedding planner after you left. She gave me this, this book.”

He opens the large white box sitting next to him, pulling out the binder than Y/N was talking about with Mariah just hours ago, before quickly shutting the lid. It held all of the rough drafts to the wedding arrangements so far, none of them finalized because Harry had yet to give his opinion on the vast majority of them.

“I looked at the pages,” He opens it up, admiring the small stickers and colored pen scribbled across the pieces of the small planner. She had left notes next to each of the details for the wedding, a small reminder as to why she had each one. Next to her picture of the beautiful purple flowers on one of the pages, she had written “Morning glories, a reminder of the first date.” as an indication that they were the same flowers Harry had given her while walking through a park in New York. Harry ran his fingers over the thick pages, admiring the little notes as a small smile formed onto his face.

“I know I wasn’t there for any of it, but I want to be now. I want to start being here for you now.” He tells Y/N. She’s still iffy about giving him her trust, and he’s aware of that.

“I told you I would help you pick out your dress, so i’m going to do that. Right now.” He tells her, gesturing with his hand for her to come closer. She crosses her arms, indicating that she’d rather stay where she is. He acknowledges that, moving to lift up the lid anyways.

Y/N doesn’t expect him to pull out a series of large white dresses from inside of the box, but he does. She can’t help but let a small smile run cross her face, and no matter how much she tries to convince herself it’s from the beauty of the dresses, she realize that it’s also because of him.

“You’d look beautiful in all of them, but I figured you wouldn’t know until you tried them on.” He tells her. She walks over to the box, Harry’s breath hitches a bit because she’s near him, and she reaches out to feel the soft tulle of the white dress, trying not to touch it too aggressively.

“I can’t forgive you this easily, Harry” She tells him honestly. He nods in disappointment, the smile wiping off of his face.

“But if you prove to me that you’re willing to try, that’s a start.”

He leans in to pull her into him, her head fitting underneath the stubble on his chin. She doesn’t reciprocate for a few moments, but eventually sighs, running her hands across the sides of his waist lightly.

And, despite the fact that he entered the complex a while ago, he finally feels like he’s home.

[thegreatwhiteferret]

I Can’t Help Myself

Summary: Vic had died a little inside when Mrs. Banks had said his name after Tozier’s. It was no secret that the Losers Club had always been the bane of Henry’s existence. That meant that Vic was supposed to hate them too, and after taking beatings every time the Losers did something to thwart Henry, Vic had an overall discontempt for them. Richie Tozier more so than the others, for reasons that Vic never really let himself explore.

Pairing: Victor Criss/Richie Tozier

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Alright, cards on the table, Vic Criss does not get enough love. And yes, I know that he is a bully and part of the Bower’s Gang, but he is a wonderful character to play with and expand upon. This fic was requested by an Anon after I begged for something that would allow me to write a Vic Fic. I am so sorry that it took me so long, I got swamped with requests and lost some inspiration, but I am busting my ass to get it back. I hope that y’all like this and GIVE VIC CRISS A FUCKING CHANCE. (Also I really fucking love writing Richie Tozier, God damn.) 💖💖💖

NSFW Under the Cut...

“We will be having an exam on Antiderivative and Indefinite integrals next Tuesday. I will be assigning you study partners, now to keep you accountable, I will also be passing out a log that you need to both sign and you both will also be responsible for handing in all of your notes. That means that I will know if you haven’t met up with your partner.” Mrs. Banks instructed from the front of the room, she was met with the collective groans of sixteen high school seniors. She chuckled slightly at their pain. “I know, I know, I am just the absolute worst. This is what you get for taking AP Calculus.” She moved towards her desk and pulled out a list of names. Richie raised his hand and she nodded at him to go ahead.

“Mrs. Banks, is there a minimum amount of time that we have to spend with our study partner?” He asked, pushing his thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Contrary to popular belief, Richie was all business when it came to his actual classes. He and the rest of the Losers had been talking about all going to college in Boston for years, and Richie had his heart set on M.I.T.. Applications were due in a few weeks and he was not about to do anything to mess his chances up.

“Well Mr. Tozier, I would say that a good minimum to set would be two hours, because I know that you all have work for your other classes, but in all honesty, I think you should work with your partner until both of you are completely confident with your understanding. Who knows? You might enjoy your study partner and choose to work with them for the rest of the year.”

Richie nodded in understanding, he looked around the room to see who he might possibly end up with. His eyes settled on his best friend Stan in the desk next to him.

“Keep looking, Richie, you know there is no way she is going to partner us up together. Every teacher in this school knows that we have been friends since we were toddlers. They want variety in the pairings.” Stan muttered, without even looking up from his notes.

“Well that is just...homophobic.” Richie settled on and Stan shot him a glare that told him to cut the bullshit. Richie rolled his eyes and began looking around the room again. He was a little bummed when he first found out that he and Stan were the only ones out of the Losers who were admitted into the class, but he wasn’t completely shocked. Bill exceeded in English, Mike and Ben in History, Bev was all over art, and Eddie was taking all of the extra science classes that he could to prepare for pre-med.

As he looked around the room he was striked by the fact that although he had known all of these people since kindergarten, he didn’t really know any of them. He might be able to pull their names out of his ass, but anything more than that would be impossible. His eyes settled on a figure slumped over his desk in the back of the room, a shock of blonde hair falling into his eyes as he read through his notes. It was Vic Criss. Richie had been shocked to find out how intelligent he was, once the Bowers gang broke up a few years prior and Vic actually began to apply himself. No longer afraid of what Henry and Patrick would do to him if they found out that he was actually smart.

Then Patrick had been sent to a juvenile detention center somewhere in Kansas or another bum fuck state like that, a facility that could control his mental illness and prevent him from harming any other living thing. That had happened when Richie was a freshman. Henry had still tried to terrorize people, but without the resident psychopath, his threats didn’t seem so harsh. Instead of asserting his dominance over the entire student body, he took it out on his much smaller and weaker boyfriend.

Richie didn’t know the full story of what happened. He had heard rumors that Belch had been the one that saved Vic’s life, carried him to the hospital himself to receive help one Wednesday night in late fall when Vic and Richie were sophomores, but no one ever knew for sure. All anyone knew for sure was that when Vic had returned to school the following Monday, he looked like a train had hit him. His already pale skin was covered in painful looking bruises. He yelped everytime he sat down or moved too suddenly.

Belch became his bodyguard and escorted him through the halls, making sure no one touched him. Henry being the lovely human that he was blew up one day a week or so later, calling Vic a pathetic little slut who was too much of a sissy to take it like a man in front of everyone at lunch. Vic had run off in tears as Belch and Henry started swinging at each other. Eddie had been the one to follow Vic into the boys bathroom and held him as he cried, reassuring him that everything would be okay.

Richie wasn’t supposed to know about that. At least, he figured that Vic would probably prefer if no one ever knew. Eddie had told Richie in confidence, needing to get it off the chest, and Richie promised to never mention it again. He wouldn’t of course, Richie knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“Okay, then.” Richie was pulled out of his thoughts when Mrs. Banks cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. She had found the appropriate list for the class, and Richie could vaguely see that there were two columns on the paper. “Let’s see...Mr. Uris, you will be working with Miss Bloom…” Stan groaned slightly, Pattie had had a crush on him for the last year and a half and refused to accept that he was in love and in a relationship with Mike. A few more names were read off the list, and then he finally heard his own. “And Mr. Tozier, your partner will be Mr. Criss. You have the rest of class to set a schedule to meet up. I’ll be here to answer any questions you have.”

Richie’s eyes drifted to the back of the classroom again and his eyes automatically found Vic’s. He tried to send him a polite grin, but Vic just nodded towards him a solemn look on his face, and dropped his eyes down to his notebook again.

Richie sighed, he had no idea how this was going to work out.

-

Vic tapped his pencil gently against the table in the library where he was sitting, waiting for Richie. Vic had died a little inside when Mrs. Banks had said his name after Tozier’s. It was no secret that the Losers Club had always been the bane of Henry’s existence. That meant that Vic was supposed to hate them too, and after taking beatings every time the Losers did something to thwart Henry, Vic had an overall discontempt for them. Richie Tozier more so than the others, for reasons that Vic never really let himself explore.

He was about to just give up on Richie ever arriving, he was twenty three minutes late already, but then there was a crash at the front of the library and suddenly a sprinting figure with black curls and an outrageously loud printed shirt was coming in his direction and sliding into the seat across from him.

“Shit...hi! Sorry I’m late.” Richie apologized, slightly gasping for breath. Vic shot him an unimpressed look and opened his binder, trying to locate the specific notes he needed. Richie eyed him as he did this. “You know that you’re going to have to talk to me right? For this whole study buddies thing to work, it’s going to involve talking.”

“I’m aware, Tozier. But thank you so much for checking in and making sure that I did. I appreciate it.” Vic replied cooley, his voice void of any emotion. It made Richie want to squirm in his seat, he didn’t like it one bit. Richie groaned, they needed to clear the air.

“Alright, Criss. Let’s get it over with, cards on the table. Why do you hate me so much?” Richie asked point blank, Vic lifted his eyes from his papers and stared at Richie for a moment, he groaned when he realized that Richie didn’t find his actions intimidating.

“I don’t. I don’t hate you.” Vic mumbled, it was so low that Richie had to strain to hear him. He shot Vic another pointed look. “Jesus Christ, what do you want me to say, Tozier? You know how it was. Our groups didn’t get along. It’s as easy as that. I don’t hate you, I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t hate you.”

“Well then…” Richie started, a wicked smirk crossing his face. “We will just have to change that, won’t we?” He let out a low chuckle, and Vic knew he was in for it. He wasn’t going to escape these study sessions unscathed.

-

The thing is, that when Richie sets his mind to something, he gets it done. It’s a fact that infuriated the other Losers at times. Last year when he had heard about the Women’s March in D.C. he decided that Bev had to be there to experience it for herself. Everyone shook the idea off at first, it was too expensive, too far, but Richie believed in himself and sure enough, he and Bev walked the streets of the capital wearing their pink pussy hats.

Vic was no different for him, he was determined to make the boy either like or hate him, preferably like. He couldn’t stand the neutrality of being in between.

The thing that was different for him was how surprised he was that he enjoyed Vic’s company so much. Vic was really intelligent, but in the way that he still had to work hard for his grades, like Stan did. Richie had always been able to walk in completely unprepared for an exam, and still pull a high grade.

Vic was also surprisingly funny, he didn’t even have to try. Richie really enjoyed finding that out about him, sharing hushed laughs in the library. They met after school every single day, long after the first test had come and gone. He really enjoyed their study sessions, although they rarely got much studying done. Vic was becoming a really good friend.

-

Vic wasn’t sure when exactly it happened. Somewhere in between mathematical formulas and stupid jokes, he fell for Richie Tozier.

He resisted for as long as he could, reminded himself of all of the pain that Richie had inadvertently caused him over the years.], but every time that he tried to get himself to hate him, all he could see was that goofy smile, freckled face, and his kind brown eyes hidden behind his huge glasses. He was so far gone for him.

He closed the door to his room, flicking the lock closed and dropping his backpack on the floor before throwing himself on his bed. He had just gotten back from one of his study sessions with Richie, and the bastard had licked his lips every five seconds, causing a familiar heat to pool in Vic’s abdomen.

He wiggled his jeans down his hips kicking them off and onto the floor. His flannel and t-shirt went next until he was laying in just his boxers and socks. He let the heel of his palm press lightly into his clothed cock, feeling how hard he already was. He raced to get his boxers off next, his cock springing free to curve up against his belly.

He squeezed a pump of lotion out from the bottle on his bedside table, and rubbed his fingers together in an attempt to warm it up, and then his hand was on his cock. Jerking in a slow and familiar rhythm. He closed his eyes and threw his head back into his pillows, moaning out at the feeling of his own hand. He thumbed his slit slightly, collecting the drops of precum that had collected there and let them mix with the lotion. He kept jerking up and down, flicking his wrist when he would get close to the head.

Images flashed behind his closed eyes. He imagined running his fingers through those messy dark curls, and pulling on them. God, he would pull on them so hard while Richie swallowed his cock. Then there were Richie’s fingers, long and slim, skilled from playing the guitar, Vic could imagine how the callices would feel against his delicate insides, fucking him open. His tongue, that sinful tongue. Vic wanted that tongue inside of him. In his mouth, God in his ass.

Vic could feel his orgasm fast approaching, his hand sped up, chasing release. He rubbed his thumb against the sensitive ridge under the head of the cock, just on the verge of painful, and then he let himself imagine what Richie’s cock would look like. Long and slim, but impressive, just like Richie himself. He jerked two more times before he was cumming. He felt his toes curl and his entire body spasm, spurts of milky white cum landing on his chest. He stroked himself slowly through it, before he fully collapsed onto his pillows.

Not even a moment later, he felt the shame kick in. Of what he had just done. He needed to keep control of himself. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, what if he slipped up at school? What would happen then.

-

A stray look and a small smile on his face. That was all it took for Vic’s feelings for Richie to be noticed by the worst possible person. Henry.

It happened at lunch. Vic and belch were sitting off in the corner where they always did, the Losers at their own table in the middle of the chaos. Richie had stood on the cafeteria table and started to perform what was surely the worst Irish step dance in history. Bill and Ben had tried to pull him down off of the table, but he was surprisingly strong and coordinated enough to leave them toppled over while he was still upright. The other Losers just shook their heads at his antics, Bev recording the whole thing on her phone.

Vic smiled at the sight. The sight of the happy boy that he liked dancing goofily on a cafeteria table. It felt like only seconds had passed before he was being lifted out of his seat and slammed into the floor. He gasped for air, head throbbing from impact. He looked up to see Henry, damn near foaming at the mouth above him. Belch moved to help Vic up, but Henry shot him a warning glance, the kind that told everyone that he would actually slit his former friend’s throat if he had the chance.

“ARE YOU FUCKING HIM YOU LITTLE FAGGOT?” He screamed down at him, Vic tried to scramble up to his feat, but Henry pushed him back down by his shoulders. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION YOU DUMB SLUT. ARE YOU FUCKING RICHIE TOZIER?”

“N-no NO.” He stammered out, his chest felt heavy, like he couldn’t fully breath. He wished that he had his anxiety medication on him, but Henry never believed in those pills anyway and would have just thrown them away.

“What are you Stuttering Bill now?” Henry asked with a cruel laugh, he squatted down in front of Vic, he was so close that Vic could smell of stale cigarettes that clung to Henry’s tongue, and something else he knew all too well, beer. “I saw you smile at him Victor. You pathetic little fag, in love with a Loser?” Henry looked at someone behind Vic and sneered. Vic didn’t have to look to know that it was Richie.

“HEY BOWERS! Why don’t you leave him the fuck alone?” A voice called out, it was Richie’s, and it made Vic’s heart clench in his chest. Why couldn’t Richie just keep his mouth shut. Let Vic take this beating, and just move on with their lives.

“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth, Tozier?” Henry spat, and his attention was back on Vic who had managed to stand up, but was struggling to keep his balance. “Does he know, Vicky? Does he know what a pathetic little slut you are, all the things you let me do to you? What you let me AND Patrick do to you?” Henry snarled, and Vic’s breath caught in his throat.

He hadn’t let them. In fact he had convinced himself that it was all a dream, that the pain that he had felt in his ass, like he was being torn open until he bled, was just a dream. They had gotten him drunk and high, just enough that he would be pliable, but not enough for him to black out, he honestly thought that he would have prefered that more, but then he wouldn’t have been able to feel what they were doing to him, and that was truly Pat’s kink. Causing people horrendous pain. Henry liked the dominating side of it, and that night he had. He had dominated Vic without his consent, and let his boyfriend be violated by his friend as well, at the same time. The painful memories came flooding back in Vic’s mind. He could feel the tears pricking his eyes.

“That’s right, Vicky. You remember good and well. He’s never going to want you, even trash like him wouldn’t want something used and destroyed like you.” That was the last thing Vic heard, because he was running again, he had to get out of there, away from him. He was tired of Henry tearing him down like this, in front of people, it was cruel. This time he didn’t just run to a bathroom and hide, he hightailed it out of the front doors of the school and just ran.

He collapsed to his knees once he reached the park, body overcome with emotion and unable to physically continue. Sobs began wretching themselves from his throat, tears flowing freely now. He hadn’t heard anyone behind him, but then he felt a hand touch his shoulder and he flung himself backwards, scared at the prospect of it being Henry, there to finish him off.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. Vic, can you look at me?” A soft voice said, and he whimpered at the sound, he knew that voice. It was Richie. He blinked back tears and turned his head to look at the other boy. Richie wore a concerned expression on his face, and he moved to kneel in front of Vic, careful not to touch him again. Afraid that he would spook him. “It’s just me, Vic. It’s just me.” He soothed.

Vic nodded, and tried to get control of his breathing, he moved closer to Richie, allowing him to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Richie rocked him back and forth in his arms for a few minutes, until Vic had stopped shaking.

“I…” Richie started, but stopped, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. “I am so sorry, that he said those things to you, that he physically did what he did today, and everything else he did before. I’m so sorry, Vic. You don’t deserve that.” Richie told him softly.

“You don’t know that.” Vic said, voice small as he shook his head. “You don’t know me. I’m pathetic, just like Henry said. I let him do those things to me…” He couldn’t continue, he keeled over and began retching into the grass, the newfound memories present in his mind.

“I don't think that you’re pathetic. I think that you are so strong.” Richie told him, and Vic scoffed slightly. “And I would really really like to get to know you. More than I do already, because I like you Vic. I think you’re special.” Vic looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

“You mean that?” Vic asked, and Richie just nodded. They stayed still and silent for a few more minutes, before Richie was pulling himself into a standing position and reaching a hand down to help Vic right himself.

“Why don’t we go back to my house? I can make you some tea, and we can get to know each other a bit better. How does that sound?” Richie asked sweetly, and Vic could feel his stomach flutter at the tone.

“That sounds perfect.” Vic told him, and let Richie grab his hand, leading him down the streets of Derry to his house.

-

Vic let out a yawn and stretched as he began to fully wake up, he was in an unfamiliar bed and it startled him for a moment. He was about to panic when the door to the room opened and Richie walked in with two mugs.

“Hey, you’re up.” Richie said with a soft smile, Vic must have looked confused, because he continued. “You were really worn out when we finally got back here, you’re in my house by the way, so I figured that it would be best to just let you sleep for a while, you’ve had a rough day.” Richie told him, handing Vic one of the mugs.

“Thanks.” He said, accepting it and taking a small sip of the hot herbal liquid. “For everything, for following me and getting me somewhere safe.” Vic said, nothing but sincerity and gratitude in his voice.

“Of course.” Richie smiled at him again, he really needed to stop doing that. “Vic...can we talk about what happened, what Henry said?”

“I...I don’t really want to talk about the abuse...the things he did to me…” Vic said sadly, a hiccup making its way out of his throat, a sign of how upset the topic made him.

“No. Not that, although if you ever feel comfortable telling me, I would listen as best as I could.” Richie told him. “I was referring to what Henry was saying, about you having feelings for me...do you?” He asked softly, voice full of something that was hard for Vic to pinpoint.

“I do. I’m sorry, I tried so hard to fight the feelings, but I just couldn’t.” Vic confessed, a frown etched on his face. Richie gently grasped Vic’s chin and pulled it up so that he was looking him in the eye.

“I’m glad you couldn’t, because well, I couldn’t either.” Richie told him and Vic’s eyes went wide with shock.

“W-wh-what?” He choked out, and Richie let out a small laugh before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Vic’s lips. He pulled back almost immediately, watching the smaller boy’s face to see his reaction.

“Was that okay?” Richie asked, that mysterious tone was back, self doubt he recognized it as now. His eyes held so much hope, but also fear.

“FUCK YES!” Vic cried out, surging forward to capture Richie’s lips with his again. He crawled into Richie’s lap easily, refusing to break the kiss. Richie held onto his hips, while Vic ran his hands up and down Richie’s back. They pulled back after a few minutes, desperate to catch their breaths. “Richie…?” Vic asked, gaining his attention. “Will you fuck me, nice and slow and lovingly? I’ve never had that before.” Richie’s breath got caught and he choked slightly.

“Are you sure? It’s been an emotional day…” Richie started to ask, but was cut off when Vic pressed his lips to Richie’s again.

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life. I trust you, please make me feel again.” Vic said softly, and Richie nodded. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and stood to pull his jeans off as well. Vic followed suit, pulling his sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt off as well. Richie let out an audible gasp when he saw some of the scarring that Vic had on his arms and his chest, he knew that they were battle wounds left by Henry.

Richie helped Vic to lay back on the pillows, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before moving down to his chest. Richie pressed a sweet kiss to each of Vic’s visible scars. Acknowledging all of the pain that he had been through. When he was finished, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Vick’s briefs and looked up at him for permission, Vic nodded and Richie pulled them over his ass and down his legs, so that Vic was laying completely bare in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight.

“Can I suck you off, Sweetheart?” Richie asked, and Vic moaned at the thought. Henry had never done that for him, in fact Vic had never had a proper blow job in his entire life, and here his crush was asking him if he could. He nodded in consent. Richie moved forward, wrapping his hand around the base of Vic’s cock and guiding it to his lips. He took it in easily, letting his mouth slide up and down the shaft. Vic let his hand rest in Richie’s curls and Richie groaned, encouraging Vic to tug his hair slightly. When he did, Richie moaned louder, the vibrations sending shock waves through Vic’s cock. It was beautiful, but he didn’t want to cum from just that.

“Richie, if you don’t stop I’m gonna...you know.” Vic let out, and Richie pulled off with a pop, smiling up at him.

“Okay, I’ve got you, how about we try some fingers next? I’ll take it nice and slow, working you open for my cock.” Richie told him.

“Yesyesyesyes.” Vic rushed out, and Richie let out a fond laugh. Richie reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of lube and a condom. He set the condom on the bed, and popped the cap on the tube of lube. He squeezed enough onto the tips of his fingers that he could coat three of them. He rubbed his fingers together slightly to warm it up before turning his attention back to the boy in his bed.

“Can you hug your knees to your chest for me, V? Put that pretty hole on display for me?” Richie’s tone was sweet, but also had a directive tone to it. He wasn’t just asking Vic to do something, but rather telling him exactly what needed to be done. Vic did as he was told and hugged his knees to his chest. Richie groaned at the sight, when his little pink puckered hole revealed itself. “Alright, here goes one finger.”

Richie traced the ring of muscle with one of his lubed up fingers, teasing Vic’s hole ever so lightly. Vic whined and Richie finally relented, pushing his finger past the ring of muscles and into his hole, he took it easily, and soon Richie was thrusting in and out with more force. Vic moaned out at the sensation, and then his jaw dropped open when he felt two fingers pushing back into him. Richie scissored his fingers and flicked his wrist every once in a while, driving Vic absolutely crazy. He was going too slow, he needed more.

“Richie, please. I’m ready. I can take it.” Vic cried out, but Richie shook his head and added another finger so that Vic was being stretched open by three. He was right about Richie’s long and slim fingers fucking him open. It was perfect, exactly what he fantasized about. He started rocking his hips back to meet the thrusts of the fingers, and Richie took that as his cue that Vic was ready for more.

“Are you still with me?” Richie asked, and Vic nodded, cheeks and chest flushing from his arousal. He watched as Richie shed his boxers, his cock just as beautiful as he had imagined in his fantasies. Richie grabbed the condom from the bed and open the foil package, easily sliding the latex down his cock. He leaned forward, the blunt head of his cock resting against Vic’s hole. He gave him one more concerned look, met with a nod, before he slowly pushed himself all the way in. It took a minute, he didn’t want to hurt Vic after all, but then his hips were meeting Vic’s ass, and it felt amazing.

“You can move.” Vic told him, and Richie started thrusting in and out of him slowly and fluidly. Vic moaned at the feeling, screwing his eyes just from the sheer force of pleasure. Richie picked up his pace, building a steady rhythm and adjusting his hips to fuck right into Vic’s prostate. “Ahhhhh fuck!” Vic cried out and Richie repeated the action. Vic was crying out with every thrust, every slight touch of skin on skin anywhere but their crotches.

Richie could feel his own orgasm coming closer, but this was all about Vic. He needed to cum first. Richie snaked his hand down in between them and took a hold of Vic’s cock. He began pumping him in time with his own thrusts. It took less than ten strokes before Vic was letting out a long and drawn out moan, cumming all over his and Richie’s chests. Richie kept pumping into him, now with a purpose, he pressed in one final time and filled the condom deep inside of Vic’s ass. He pulled out carefully, dropping the condom into the wastebasket next to his bed. He moved to lay behind Vic, his arm wrapping over his midsection, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Thank you for this, Richie. It was amazing. I just can’t help myself when I’m around you.” Vic said graciously, and he could feel Richie smiling from where he was rested against his neck.

“Right back at you.” Richie said with a slight giggle. “Now how about we go to sleep now, and then deal with discussing what this means when we wake up?” He asked, and Vic nodded turning to press a sweet kiss against his cheek.

The snuggled into one another, neither remembering the last time they had felt this safe and comfortable.  Vic and Richie thanked God they were assigned as study buddies.

[lolainblue]

Presque Vu -- Chapter 30

A/N Well here we go again. Thank you for every one that is still on board. I don’t know if the tag list is up to date or not, so if you want to be tagged but aren’t, or if you’re tagged but don’t want to be, please let me know. 

    ********************************************

   When Raina got into work on Wednesday morning the studio was strangely silent and empty. She brought up the main lights as she passed toward her workstation, swallowing dryly as she scanned the eerily vacant space around her. Before she could get settled in, Val appeared at her side, his brow furrowed.

   “Come back to my office and have a seat, Raina. I'm afraid I have some news,” he requested. He didn't wait to see if she complied, simply turning around and retreating to his office. Raina dried her palms on her skirt before following him.

   Once she had had a seat across from his desk Val slowly puffed his cheeks and let the air gradually pass through his parsed lips. “You know, the media industry has been going through a lot of changes,” he began. “Traditional media, print publications, have been the hardest hit. We have been trying to reimagine ourselves here and keep up with the times but I'm afraid it just hasn't been enough.”

   Raina shifted in her seat, again wiping her sweating palms against the cool fabric of her skirt. This can't be happening the voice in her head thundered but she was certain she knew where all this was going. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even, determined not to let the panic bubbling in her stomach overtake her. The rest of Val's speech roared past her ears like the wash from a jet engine. The publishing company that owned their magazine along with several others was restructuring departments for better efficiency. The art department the studio fell under was being merged with the others and 75 percent of the overall staff from the three were being let go. There was no more job for her here. Her internship for the final portion of her MFA was gone. Her job, her education, pulled out from under her in one swift blow.

   “Dammit, Raina, I am so sorry,” Val reached out and placed his hand over hers. He was easily the most distant person Raina had ever worked with and the gesture startled her. “I want you to know I fought hard to keep you. You're the best damn assistant I've had in 20 years in this business.”

   “What?” Raina looked at Val in puzzlement. He had always been so gruff with her. She had felt as if she were constantly struggling to please him and consistently disappointing him. It had never occurred to her that her efforts were even noticed, let alone appreciated. “I thought that...”

   Val shook his head. “I know. I'm not the easiest boss to have. But you never let it bother you and you were always unfailingly professional and competent, no matter what I threw at you. You always seemed to understand exactly what I wanted. I hate like hell that it is ending this way.” He took his hand back and started shuffling through the folders on his desk “There's a small severance package but...' he cleared his throat as he continued to rifle through the stack, finding one and handing it to her. “There's also a list of some available job opportunities in there that you might be interested in. I'm sorry I don't know if they will meet your internship requirements for your school program,  you'll have to check with them on that. There's also a list of some contacts of mine, people in the industry who might be able to assist you if you find yourself struggling. Just tell them I referred you and they'll help you out if they can. I also included the most glowing letter of recommendation I could come up with. I hope it helps. My personal information is in there too, you can call me if you need me to give someone an extra nudge.”

   “Wow Val, that's very generous.” Raina was completely blown away by his gesture, and as she clutched the little brown binder in her lap she could feel tears welling up behind her eyes that weren't due to the sudden job loss.

   “It's the least I could do after they pulled the rug out from under you like this. Oh and there's something else.” Val reached around to the other side of his desk and pulled out a large deep blue leather portfolio which he handed to Raina. “I want you to have this. I started it when you first started with us. It's all your work, well the best of it anyway. I had intended to fill it until you graduated, to give it to you as a memento of your time here and to show how much you had progressed. I am sorry I won't be able to finish it for you but it does give you something to present to prospective employers.”

   Raina smoothed her hand over the expensive leather before opening it up, flipping through the oversized pages to see shots she had set up and taken over the course of the year she had worked there. She could really see how much she had grown under Val's tutelage. It was true he had been a difficult boss but he had been an amazing teacher, and she was bereaved to be losing him, more than the job itself. “This is amazing and so thoughtful. Thank you.”

   Val nodded and stood up, their exchange clearly over. “Do you need any help in gathering your things and getting them to your car? I know you keep a few things here in the office. I have some boxes for you....”

   “No, thank you. I can manage to pack it all up myself,” Raina responded, walking back to her desk. She was still in a bit of a daze as she looked around, trying to think of what to pack.

   Val appeared momentarily with a few boxes which he sat down with a mysterious smile. Raina took the lid off the first one to begin loading her things into it and found it was full of equipment, lenses and filters and one of the older cameras they didn't use very often. “Uhm, Val? There's a camera and things in this one.”

   “No there isn't,” Val called back from across the room.

   “Yeah, it's one of the old Nikons.”

   “No. There's nothing in there,” Val said again more firmly while smiling at her. The lightbulb went on in Raina's head and she couldn't hold back the grin that erupted on her face. The camera was far nicer than any she owned, and the lenses themselves were worth a small fortune. She wasn't sure how he was going to explain their disappearance, probably would write them off in the confusion of combining the various departments, but she was deeply grateful for the gift. As horrible as this morning was, Val's behavior was certainly softening the blow.

   Once she was sure she had gathered everything Val walked her out to her car, carrying a third box of god only knew what and tucking it into the back seat with the others once she had loaded them up. She handed him her ID badge before climbing into the driver's seat. “Thank you for the opportunity. Thank you for being such a good teacher,” she said as he leaned in her window.

   “Don't let this derail you. It's one small setback and it's nothing to do with you or your talent or abilities. It's just bad luck. I know you're going to go on to great things if you want to.” He gave the car door a couple of raps and then turned to go back inside.

   Raina watched him disappear back into the building before her gaze fell back to the steering wheel in front of her. It was just after 10 a.m. on a weekday. She had no idea what to do with herself. The thought of starting her job search immediately sounded way to overwhelming. She scanned the parking lot, wondering why she hadn't registered when she came in how empty it was today. With a sudden clutch of panic, she looked around for Cassie's car, but the powder blue Fiat was nowhere to be seen. She quickly fished her phone out of her bag.

   “Raina?” Cassie picked up on the first ring. “Oh my god I've been hanging by the phone waiting for you to call. They wouldn't tell me who was staying and who was being let go....”

   “Me.” Raina thought her voice sounded strangely flat and she figured she was still in a bit of a shock. “I was let go.”

   “Fuck, Raina, I'm so sorry. They're keeping me...”

   “Of course they're going to keep the pregnant lady. They look like real bastards if they don't.”

   “But honestly I didn't even care. I probably could have used the time off. I was so worried about you. What is this going to do to your MFA program? Can you find somewhere else?”

   “I don't know. It's kind of late. I suppose if worse comes to worse I can work for a year and pick it back up later.”

   “No, that's terrible! There has to be something!”

   “I don't....” It all rushed in on her then, the enormity to which she was screwed. She didn't make much at the magazine and her savings were meager. She hadn't checked the folder but she was sure her severance package was not particularly generous and there was no way she was going to be able to pay L.A. rent on an unemployment stipend, no matter how modest that little apartment of hers was. She was going to have to find something quickly. She could feel the panic building again, her throat starting to close as her fingers went numb and heart raced, and she had to close her eyes and breathe through to the next moment.

   “Raina? Raina!” She could hear Cassie calling to her through the phone, her voice distant. Raina focused on the sound of it until she began to feel in control again.

   “I'm here. I'm trying not to freak out but I'm here,” Raina confirmed, her hands shaking.

   “Well stop being there and come over here right now. It's beer and pizza night anyway. We can start with the beer early. Well, you can start with the beer. I think I'm having apple juice.”

   “I don't know, Cass. It's only ten in the morning and I think maybe I should save my money since I don't know how long this is going to last...”

   “Oh don't be ridiculous. You're going to find a new job like that. You're amazing. Besides, no one said you had to spend any money. My treat. Pizza and ice cream and sympathy, free of charge. And all the booze you want too if you choose to go that route. Just get your skinny ass over here.”

   Part of Raina wanted to go home and hide under her quilt and watch Netflix. Here was a giant crisis just lying in her way, spilled across the road like an upended gravel truck. It was the perfect excuse to tuck tail and run. But she could hear Val telling her she was bound for great things. She could hear Shannon's voice in her head, telling her to stop quitting. And here was Cassie, a real and true friend, who wasn't looking to take advantage of the situation. A friend who, instead of thinking of herself had immediately worried about Raina's situation, who was standing by with open arms. She was stronger than her fear, she told herself. She wasn't going to fall apart again. The people in her life now weren't the ones that she had chosen then. It was time to find out if she had made better choices this time around.

   “I'll be there in an hour. I need to stop by my place and drop some things off first and change.”

   “Okay, but you had better mean it. Don't you disappear on me,” Cassie admonished.

   “I won't. I promise.”

*********************************

 Raina was cross-legged on Cassie's living room floor, halfway through her bottle of wine and laughing hysterically while Cassie described her latest attempt at accommodating her growing belly and function normally when her phone rang. A quick glance at the screen told her it was Shannon.

   “Hey handsome,” she giggled into the receiver as she picked it up.

   “Well someone is in a good mood,” he responded.

   “Oh no. I'm just fighting back panic and hysteria,” Raina told him as her voice steadied.

   “Uhm... I'm not sure how to respond to that. What's happening?” Shannon asked.

   “Oh, the magazine just laid off three-quarters of its staff. Including me. And that was my internship for my last two semesters for my degree so I'm not just broke, I'm completely screwed. But hey, I've got a bottle of wine and Cassie can't tie her shoes without falling over so it's handled.”

   “Uhm... again I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm really sorry about your job though. I was just calling to see if you still wanted to get together this evening for the pizza thing. We've been working but Jared didn't want you to be alone for the first time you've ever invited us into your life, so he's kicking me out of here to come see you.”

   “Aww, my boyfriends are so sweet!” I giggled into the phone. “I'll text you the address.”

   “Your friends, they know that...”

   “This is all between us. They're cool. Just get your gorgeous ass over here,” I told him. Cassie started laughing again and topped off my wine glass.

   “All right, Rainy girl. I'll be over in an hour or so. Are you drinking? Don't get sloppy drunk before I even get to see you, you hear me?”

   “Yes, sir,” Raina responded. “Oh no wait, that's Jared.”

   “It's me if that'll get you to listen any better. I'll see you soon.”

*******************************************  

   When Shannon finally arrived it was closer to two hours later, but when Raina greeted him at the door he had a pastry box in one hand and a huge mixed bouquet in the other.

   “What on earth?” Raina exclaimed as he handed her the flowers.

   “Those are from Jared. We're sorry you lost your job.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as she pulled the card out of the bouquet.

   So sorry. Call if you need me. XOXO ~J

   Raina clutched the card to her chest and led Shannon through the house to where Cassie was waiting. “You remember Cassidy, right?”

   Shannon smiled. “How could I forget? How have you been?”

   “Fat,” Cassie said with a smirk. “But not for too much longer. Great flowers Raina. What's that?” She asked as she pointed at the box Shannon was holding.

   “Oh. The flowers are from Jared but this is from me. It's one of those pies we got on our second date, the one you loved so much.”

   Raina gasped in delight. “The whiskey pecan one from that Chophouse?” Shannon nodded. Raina squealed and took the box from him. “Cassie, get a couple of forks, You're going to love this.”

   Cassie laughed and took the flowers from her. “I'll put these in some water first so they don't die before you can take them home.”

   Once Cassie had disappeared into the kitchen Shannon slipped his arms around Raina, pulling her close against him before pressing his lips to her forehead. She could feel herself relaxing, a deep sigh winding it's way out from her chest as his scent surrounded her.

   “How are you holding up?” he asked gently. Raina shrugged. “It's going to be okay. Don't quit on me.”

   Raina couldn't help but roll her eyes. “You know I had a bit of a panic when it started to set in what was actually happening and I could hear you in my head saying that same exact thing.”

   “Good. That means I”m getting through that thick skull of yours.”

   “Maybe,” she conceded. “I'm not going to pretend like I'm not scared as hell right now. It feels a little bit like I'm back to where I was before I came out here. Like I haven't made any progress at all. But I am kind of realizing I have.”

   Shannon kissed her forehead again. “You can do this. I know you can. But I wish you'd open up and tell me what your story is. I feel like I could be so much more supportive if I knew where you were coming from.”

   Maybe it was the bottle of wine she had finished off earlier but this time when Shannon asked about her past, she didn't feel the trepidation she usually did. There was no flutter of her heart, or flip of her stomach, or strangely sweaty palms. Maybe she was finally ready. “Okay.”

   Shannon blinked at her. “Okay? Really? Just like that?”

   She gave his chest a gentle shove. “Don't make me rethink this. Sit down with me over that pie and I'll tell you the whole thing.”

   He kissed her again on the cheek and Raina turned her head, catching his mouth and opening it softly,, feeling her mind settle at the familiarity of him. She felt safe here, in his arms, in Cassie's living room. Safer than she had in years. And for once she wasn't thinking about how it could all be taken from her. She was finally in the moment.

    @msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@meghan12151977 @fyeahproudglambert @pheenixpeterson

[peach-bottom]

Peach Bottom - Chapter One

<-prologue-   -ch2->

Five Hours Before:

“This is what we’re selling, people. Familiarize yourself with it. Get to know it. Its bulk. Its smell.”

Tye was very pointedly not looking at Lemon, who was nudging her repeatedly. 

Up ahead at the front of the office, Mr. Dougherty was showing them how to put on a backpack. To be more specific, he was showing them how to put on the Explorer SSX 5000. She could even be more specific than that. She knew the thermal duracity of it (it could survive on both Pluto and (parts of) Mercury). She knew about all the features - the included water bottle, or ‘chuga-gallon.’ The water-proof fabric. The durability of it. She had a video saved on her comp where someone literally threw this backpack into a volcano, and it stayed intact and did not go up in flames as it sunk beneath the surface. She had another video, where the backpack fell off a cliff and into a river while attached to a dummy, and then it went over a waterfall. It was fine, after. Because obviously after all that, that would be priority #1 - did my Explorer SSX 5000 make it? Tye knew everything about this fucking backpack. It was her job to call people on the phone and to tell them one or two of these facts before they hung up on her. Well, that wasn’t always true. Every now and then she’d hit someone who cared. And when they cared, they cared - ‘gear snobs’ always wanted to see all the videos, hear all the facts, so for that one in one hundred person she hit every now and then, she had to keep herself refreshed. And that meant going to these pep courses where the boss - who had definitely been that one in one hundredth person in a younger, fitter life, and remained a (now stationary) gear snob - told them to just touch the backpack, every now and then, really know the backpack. “Feel the backpack,” Lemon hissed in her ear, “Feel it enter you, slowly. Don’t just caress it - let it caress you.” “Shut. Up.” Tye hissed out the corner of her mouth, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Mr. Doughtery caught her eye, though, and something bitter passed through his face, and Tye’s heart sank. “Ahem. That’s all. I hope this was useful to some of you,” Dougherty said, before he put the backpack back on its little front-desk throne and slunk back into his office. Tye watched him go, feeling a familiar jolt of fear, even though she knew, logically, he couldn’t just fire her because she’d laughed at him. Lemon pinched her side. Tye swung around, punching her shoulder hard enough to raise questions about meaning it as they meandered slowly back out towards their cubicles. “Ouch!” Lemon whined, “Come on, you’re no fun.” “That poor old man thought we were laughing at him!” Tye snapped. “You mean your boss thought we were laughing at him,” Lemon corrected, correctly, and Tye glared, “and we were,” Lemon added. “No. You were. I was listening intently; you were the one dragging me into it. Not that he gave a damn about you doing anything wrong.” “Hey, unfair!” Perfectly fair. Lemon’s dad helped run AedosDynamic. She could probably take a dump on Mr. Doughtery’s desk and he’d just sigh, exhausted. Then maybe glare at Tye. They reached their cubicles, back to back, and Tye put her headset on, smoothing her skirt out as Lemon flopped onto her chair and wheeled backwards towards Tye, legs splayed, head back. Tye kicked her gently away with her flat foot (no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t handle high heels enough to confidently make them part of this mask) as she dutifully opened her number list and pressed ‘continue.’ “Hello, my name is Tye, and I’m calling you from AedosDynamic, here to talk about the -” *click* Tye didn’t even pause, reaching forward and pressing ‘continue’ for the next number while Lemon stared blankly at her own monitor, bored and petulant. Tye hadn’t been sure they’d get along at first, Lemon being a rich white girl whose parents had literally looked down at her yellow haired baby head and thought ‘Lemon is a perfect name,’ and then of course Lemon being raised by these people her whole life. Honestly, Tye still wasn’t sure they got along. She definitely wasn’t sure she really liked Lemon, much as she willingly hung out with her at work (and maybe made out with her that one time but they were high and it didn’t count). But the fact was, Tye sucked at being who she’d decided she was for this job. Her stockings itched. Her butt bones hurt from sitting all day. Sensible pencil skirts were insensible for movement, not to mention existence. And bras that cupped each individual tit - something Tye honestly hadn’t bothered with since her wedding, seventeen years ago - were like the devil’s itchy wire rimmed hands always just grabbing at her, poking her, not comfy, no, nope, not good at all. And more than anything, it was the absurdity of it all, and the fact that without Lemon, she was alone in recognizing it. Tye dialed again. This time, shockingly, she got someone who was willing to listen - a little old lady whose granddaughter camped all the time, and what do you know, her birthday was coming up soon. Tye started rattling off statistics as the woman started to ask how much it was, hoping to convince her before that shocker landed on her mind. Lemon licked her finger and started reaching towards Tye, who immediately kicked back off her desk and flowed dizzily down the hall, a few of her other coworkers glancing up as she went by. The woman asked how much it was. Tye finally told her. She apologized profusely before hanging up. The scooting had inadvertently brought Tye back to the front. She stared at the Explorer SSX 5000 vacantly, the thing propped reverently up on a special desk that faced them all, like a judge. It came with plasticky clean bright gear - The chuga-galon, of course. Some incredibly expensive trail mix and granola bars. Compass and maps. A stupid little sleeping bag and a stupid little puffy vest that was bright orange and so ugly and she wanted it so bad. Then she looked up and caught a glance at her reflection in the tinted glass windows into Doughterty’s office, expression bored, head back, legs splayed, and she immediately scooted back to her desk, shame running through her. She’d meant to be a certain kind of person for this job. She had constructed her mask, her character so carefully. She was gonna be Tye Baker of the Microsoft Community Tower - raised clean and practical, lover of organization and baking - a hobby that just went so zanily with her last name! Right! That was funny! She’d imagined laughing about it by the water cooler. She was gonna learn how to bake! Bring a pie into work every now and then! Smile emptily, but in a friendly way. Impress people. Not! Be! This loser fuckup! Tye clicked through to another number. Blah blah blah blah. Lemon mimed choking, and then mouthed the word ‘lunch?’ hopefully. The truth was, Tye was very bad at being anything other than who she was. The true Tye down beneath wasn’t good at being covered up by anything, even something useful and grown up, like this lie. And that was where Lemon came in. Lemon was, at the very least, also a loser fuckup, even if her fuckups had had almost zero consequences. She was ‘sour’ enough (haha) to make this place bearable. She said out loud what Tye, the Real Tye, was thinking. And the real Tye was frankly being smothered by this. The real Tye needed someone to say the shit running through her head. She honestly couldn’t stand the alternative of simply being silent, letting herself be entirely smothered by a lie she sometimes doubted even worked. Literally couldn’t stand it, couldn’t keep it up, because god knows, she’d tried. Was trying. Constantly. It was difficult to exist here. Tye hadn’t really taken that into account when she’d initially been planning this. When she’d first put the work and effort into constructing this mask - paying off a tower dweller to use her mailbox, dutifully thrifting and then stitching up her work clothes, memorizing empty facts about the school she’d gone to and what her fake parents did, facts she had literally never once had to whip out because no one here cared two shits about you at all. No one cared. No one. “It’s all worth it,” she reminded herself. Looked at the pictures of Xena - some printed out on the company printer, some stiff dignified shots from school back when they weren’t saving and could afford school photos. One of her as a baby, Dom wrapped around both of them. The other an old one of both of them, together, Xena in her best clothes, her chubby face dimpled up with smile; Goober leaning loyally against her, tongue lolling. At sixteen, she still sort of looked like that toddler - at least to Tye. Chubby and dimpled, same as she had been as a squirming babe puddled in Tye’s arms. Perfect. Tye sat up. Pasted on a smile. They can hear whether or not you’re smiling, Dougherty always said. Clicked ‘next.’ Blah blah blah blah. Three Hours Before: Xena had four pencils lined up in descending order of length on her desk, all with the engraving facing upwards, all touching. She had three notebooks in her backpack. Two binders. One comp.

This was pleasing. But it was only pleasing, she did not need it, and that was an important distinction. Up ahead, the teacher passed in front of the window. She paced - was always pacing. That was pleasing, too. She’d tried to explain this to her mother once and Tye had assumed - it’s pleasing because you can still see shadows, sort of, can definitely see light and dark, and you like knowing where she is - and then gotten stuck on that (the way that seeing people tend to get stuck on the seeing thing), not really fully listening when Xena tried to say that yes, that was nice and all, but really it was the fact that the light changed at all, that she spoke, walked, and shifted the lights. She opened her mouth and the world altered. That was cool, right? Cool. Goober was making a snuffing, glugging noise. That meant one of two things, and if she was eating something found on the floor of the classroom, that wasn’t too hot, either. Xena kicked her lightly, some kind of weird secondhand embarrassment rising up in her gut. Next to her, a new girl named Troya, who’d in a stroke of luck been made to sit next to her (the only empty seats were next to Xena but still! Luck!) giggled. Goober snuffed and jumped a little. The noise resumed. Xena covered her face with her hands. She didn’t really know why this got to her. Goober licking her junk in the classroom. It just felt a little too much, sometimes, like they were the same person, her and this dog. They slept in the same bed, hung out with the same people (Mom and Martha and also the band teacher, and sometimes even the school librarian). They ate at the same time, bathed one after another, her before dog, but the same water to save. Goober walked her to school and home. Goober’s existence impacted everything in her life - whether she got hit by a car, whether people were too scared to come near her, everything. Goober had even entered Xena’s life exactly when her world shifted the most. ‘Seeing’ Xena, little chicken that she was, into anime and painting and weird little kid things like collecting dead birds, had gone into a little cocoon, and when blind Xena had blossomed out on the other side (the real Xena), Goober had been there. Tye had looked down at her little cocoon daughter, soon to emerge legally sightless, quietly lost her shit for a while, and then, when she’d heard of pit-mastiff puppies being sold on the edge of Mt. Danu market, promptly stormed over there and bought the biggest, fiercest looking one. So far as Xena was concerned, Goober had been there since the beginning. They were the same. They were. So in a way, Xena herself was slouched over in the middle of the classroom, licking away with the loudest, most shameless slurpy noise ever. Nope. Nooope nope nope nope. She kicked Goober again. This time, Goober growled. She felt the room shift. Troya’s giggle turned into a hiccup. Wonderful. The bell rang even though the teacher wasn’t done, was in the middle of a lecture, so Xena stayed seated, waiting politely as the rest of the room rose around her. Goober stretched, her spine popping, and the teacher said in a defeated voice, “Thank you for waiting, Xena, but you can go.” Xena dutifully rose and packed her stuff. Grabbed Goober’s special harness and allowed herself to be tugged along with the flow of people. Goobs didn’t have to be told where to go - they’d done this enough times she knew. Locker first - remember your comp and jacket, remember to take your waterbottle home for washing, remember your flute - and then out with the rest of her classmates, past the security guards with their now uncaring metal detectors, past the crowds of loiterers still hanging around, still with things to hang around for. Out, stop, cross, turn, walk, descend. Swipe, let go of Goober so she can leap over, push through the clicking claw of the wheel, walk to the left, sit. Wait. Listen. Voices, echoing. When it was silent enough she could sometimes hear little claws pittering away, the spark and fff of a cigarette being lit, the lapping of the water that was always a few feet high these days in the divots between the tracks. Now it was just noise. Couldn’t hear anything else except - The rumble first. Then the blare. Then the waves, water rolling forward, sometimes a grizzly warm spray around her ankles. Then it was all louder, more, a pressure building in the air, and then a burst as the hot wind of it broke, the el screeching up the tracks, subway river in a frenzy. The el changed the world, too. What was left of it, anyway. Board. Sit. Scratch Goober’s ears because she’s a good girl. Listen to the tv - violent Mt. Danu district rioters showing no remorse over the death of young Candace Englebright, killed last week in a train derailment caused by - stop listening to the tv. Wait silently for- “Hi!” It took Xena a moment to realize that was directed at her. But sure enough, a pillar of shadow, a person in her little bubble of space. Troya. Troya, the new girl. “Um,” Xena started, then swallowed, “Hello?” “Your dog is so cool! Can I pet her?” You’re supposed to say no to that. “Yeah! Sure! Absolutely!” Then she willed everything to go alright. And it sort of did! Silence while Troya tried to pet Goober, who ducked her head away dutifully every time, finally growling low in her throat, ending the attempt. This is where Troya leaves. Troya laughed. “Whoa, tough stuff, eh? One of my dogs is like that. I bet you’re a big softie, though.” This last part said in a schmoopy kind of voice, so it probably was not directed at Xena, but she still felt her face heat. Goober was definitely not a big softie. Neither was she. “I’m Troya, by the way. I uh. Dunno if you caught that. I’m new here. So, yeah. Hi.” There had been too much silence, Xena realized. She had made it awkward. She had fucked it up. “I live here,” she said quickly as the el pulled to a stop. “Oh,” Troya said in a weird voice, “Uh, ok. See you in class tomorrow!” “Right,” Xena said, “Bye,” and then she got off around ten blocks away from her house, defeat boiling her bones. Two Hours Before: “- a train derailment caused by an intentional blockage on the tracks, in which rioters refused to move despite police direction.” “You know, Harper, I just don’t understand these “Mt. Danu” protesters. All were paid an - I dare say - rather hefty sum for their “houses” when the land was bought by SkyLife corp. Now, why not use that money to simply buy a unit in the tower being built? It’s not supposed to be as expensive as many of the other towers, anyway. Why so insistent on continuing grounder life when a ticket to ‘higher’ living, excuse the pun, has literally been handed to you?” “That was years ago, Porter. You know, I think that’s what this is really about. They didn’t invest the money in any way towards anything useful, like, for instance, housing that’s not going to be underwater in a matter of decades. Now none of them can afford to move into the tower, and instead of blaming their own bad planning, they’re blaming the rest of the city. Holding out for another handout, maybe.” “No, but some of them truly do seem very devoted to the idea of continuing to live in their current, crumbling ground houses. If they wanted another handout I think they’d be asking for that; they don’t seem to have any shame in any other area, so why not? They seem to truly desire a continued existence in their own decrepit, ancient neighborhoods. Some of these houses haven’t even been updated since 2020, 2010 even! Most aren’t even designated, state-approved living spaces anymore. Why aren’t these people fleeing skywards at the first opportunity like the rest of us?” “You’d think the floods would encourage it, at the very least. Ground level flooding has only been worsening in the last few years, and it’s only a matter of time till we pull a Florida and the water just stays.” “You know, I know it’s horrible to say, but I’ve sort of been looking forward to that!” Laughter. Actual laughter. “Like - no more of these rioters, no more big grounder vs ‘uppie’ controversy, and hey! It’ll be like Venice! Anyone else remember Venice?” “You’re so old, Porter!” Tye was clenching her fists so hard her stubby, bitten-down nails were reaching her palm, sparking little shots of pain, not enough, don’t do it don’t do it you dumbass don’t - She stood up. Walked calmly over to the craft’s snack counter. Leaned forward. Whispered - “Pardon me, Ma’am, but do you think maybe you could turn that shit off?” The lady at the counter’s eyes widened. She glanced once at her coworker, who shrugged, uncaring, continuing to flip through something on her comp. They turned that shit off. “Oh thank you, honey.” Tye said, smiling once before walking back to where Lemon was sitting, staring at her eagerly like she was gonna put on a show, always like she was gonna put on a show, why. “I love it when you get all political,” Lemon said. “That wasn’t me getting all political,” Tye said shortly. Because it really wasn’t. No one at work had ever seen that, she’d been able to hold that back, thank god. Anyway - Badger Broadcasting was discredited and hated by quite a few people, many of whom didn’t get ‘political’ the way Tye got political, when she got political. “Still,” Lemon said, “No one I know goes all ‘radical’ like you do.” Tye had no idea what to say to that. The rest of the ride passed in silence (praise whatever unholy ghost managed that) as Tye tried to calm down the rage simmering in her gut. The AedosDynamic hover-trolley dropped her off before Lemon, as it did every day. This was a lucky twist of fate, as it allowed her to wait on the tower dock and wave goodbye, as she did every day, as the trolley rounded the traffic circle and then soared off up a highrise. When it was just a speck she turned, pretended for a long moment to be searching for her key card in her pockets in case for some reason one of her coworkers was still watching, made brief eye contact with the lady at the front desk (who smiled a little too knowingly), and then dialed in the combination of numbers assigned to Gerty’s doorbell. Gerty buzzed her in without bothering with the intercom. It was Friday at six. She knew who it was. Tye remained composed until she was across the lobby and in the elevator, and it was there that she shut her eyes, squeezed them tight, crossed her fingers hard. Please, please, just let her be in a good mood this time. A rich mood. A generous mood. Generous here meaning - ‘please just let her stop exploiting me and realize she’s doing fine and doesn’t need anything extra this week.’ Gerty answered the door in a velvet purple robe, makeup so solid it made her look edited, unreal, limp pink hair curled and sprayed for whatever was planned tonight, and Tye’s mail already opened and examined, fanned out in her hand. All bad signs. “You got a raise,” Gerty said in one sighing exhale, smiling slightly. “I did indeed,” Tye snapped, “I was really looking forward to using that money to maybe buy meds for my diabetic daughter, or food for our table, or maybe pain killers for me, for my headaches, because I’ve been getting them lately, but my guess is you have another idea.” Gerty’s pristine eyebrows raised, haughty little check marks, “If I didn’t,” she said, “Maybe I would, now. Maybe I’d have one just because you annoyed me. I’m doing you a huge favor, you know.” Tye sighed and was surprised her whole lungs didn’t pop out with the force of it, “I,” she said, “am aware.” “I don’t have to let you use my address. I could call those AedosDynamic people up right now and tell them you’re a liar, tell them where you really live, but I won’t, because I’m so charitable.” Tye raised her eyebrows high at that one. Gerty giggled. “Also because you’re going to give me a raise, too.” “Fine,” Tye said, shaking her head, “Fine, fine, fine.” Gerty smiled. Her lipstick was just outside her lip line, a film of pink around the deeper red of the center. It was also on her teeth, a little. “I’m glad we understand one another,” she said. Tye hated her. But she still took out her comp. Scanned her identichip, keyed in her code, and transferred this week’s share of her money over to Gerty under Gerty’s watchful eyes, funding whatever Gerty was up to this week that wasn’t already being covered by her other allowances. What else could she do, really? One Hour Before: Xena kicked off her shoes, heard them thunk against the wall, unlatched Goober, and then collapsed onto her couch. Stayed for a while, smelling the familiar home-romas, letting her sweaty feet tingle dry in the air, her shirt a second skin of damp fabric on her back. It had been too-hot for three days now, but today hadn’t seemed that bad when she stepped outside this morning. Apparently she’d just needed to spend twenty minutes exerting herself slightly while outside in the afternoon, when all the heat simmered, saved up and sloshed around between the big mirrored towers, stinking up the ground below. She waited for a moment longer before stretching, grabbing the remote off the side table and flipping their small television on and pushing play on what she knew was a rerun of her namesake, warrior princess. Ma’d been watching it last night, and she knew coming home to it again would make her happy. Tye was always so happy to see Xena doing the things that she herself liked to do. It was a simple, consistent way to indulge her mother, whose voice had been getting harder and thinner lately, more brittle. She did a few more stretches, checked her blood sugar levels, took a regulator tablet when they were off, as expected. Changed into one of her dad’s old T-shirt and some boxer shorts, put some rice and beans with carrots and onions on the stove, fed Goober, sat down to watch and- She felt it. She swore, later that she felt it like pressure against her ears, like something, something light as cobwebs, but pushed through her senses in a burst. The beginning. The tv blipped into a harsh, high pitched beep for a bare few seconds. Goober stopped chewing on her rawhide and whined as the television went off with an electric crackle. Xena groaned. She clicked the remote a few times and considered getting up to try to fix it. This happened sometimes, so it wasn’t weird, not really, though something tickled at the back of her consciousness, something uncomfortable. A certain stillness. It was then that Tye burst in through the door, though, and Xena didn’t dwell on it. “HELLO MY LOVE!” Tye yelled at the top of her lungs, and Xena braced up her arms immediately, giggling as her mother flopped over the back of the couch and onto her, squeezing her tight and pushing a kiss onto her cheek. “Ma, Ma I can’t breathe! Stop it!” but she could, of course. She hugged her mother back, snickering as Goober butted her head between them and started licking Tye with a ferocity that suggested she hadn’t seen her in months, paws up on the couch for leverage. Tye let out an abrupt raspberry noise, pushing away, “Enough! Enough with the tongue! I missed you too, bud.” Tye rose and Xena heard her mother’s back crack in several places, a small huff of discomfort the only sign of a hard day at work, but it was there. “What’s that I smell?” “Just rice and beans.” “Oh sweet pea, your rice and beans don’t have a ‘just’ in front of them. I could eat em every day.” Xena laughed, “Good, because that’s what the menu looks like for this week.” Mistake! Mistake mistake oh fudge - Tye was quiet for a moment. Then - “I got a raise at work, managed to hide it from Gerty, so we can actually go shopping real soon. Maybe even get some takeout sometime this week, really splurge.” “Ma-” “Nope! None of that, I’m a grown person making my own money and I get to splurge when I wanna.” Then fabric rustling, a snap of elastic, and “Ahh! Freedom!” Conversation forgotten. “Ma! Are you changing in front of me?” “Xenaaa!! This goddamn boob destroyer has been squeezing the stuffing outta me for hours now, I’ve been waiting forever to get home and it’s not like you can see me-” “Privacy, please! And the window - someone could look right in and see you!” “I give you privacy! You’re the one with your own room! And wait wait, see,” she grabbed something from the other side of the couch, a swoosh of fabric from the pile where Tye normally kept her clothes, “and oh, there we go, I’m dressed! No more naked Mom in the living room.” Tye collapsed back on the couch and rested her head on Xena’s shoulder for a moment. In the last year, Xena had grown to almost her mom’s same height, and tragically, seemed to still be growing. Along with a bulk and girth she had definitely inherited from her father, she knew even same-heightedness gave the effect of her towering over her scrawny string bean of a mother, though they were both ‘short’ by average standards. Tye felt very small and frail right then though, her recently buzzed hair nothing but a downy fuzz over the delicate egg shell of her skull, her brain, where all of her existed, where everything that charged Xena’s world lived. She sighed and pushed herself up after just that moment, just that second of rest. Then she grabbed the remote and clicked a few times, grumbling when it didn’t immediately work. “It’s gone out again,” Xena said, reaching for her backpack. Tye, unlike Xena, immediately stood up and went over to the little thing, poking around at it. Xena put an ear bud in, powering up her little comp, intending to do homework, but it was dead. She pulled the charger out of her bag, plugged it in, but there was no little victory noise that meant it was charging, no little hum of electricity at all. There were noises outside, though. And that’s when it happened, the first shots, three of them in quick succession followed by screams. Xena turned to her mother, cold dread in her gut. This was unusual in Mt. Danu, sure, it was more of a family neighborhood than anything, closely policed by the citizens themselves - but it wasn’t unheard of, shots, not really. Tye let out a noise and then said quickly, “It’ll be ok, baby, that was a long way away and had nothin’ to do with us.” But then there was a hammering on the door, fists pumping, frame rattling, and Martha from next door was yelling, “Tye! Tye, you there? Xena!” Tye was at the door in six short strides; there was a fumbling as Martha fell forward, and Tye’s voice when it came wasn’t her mom’s familiar twangy, joking brightness, it was all a hardness she hadn’t heard much in her life, but had always known - because everyone, everyone her mom’s age had that, the war voice, the neutral hard drop and - “Martha, speak clearly, what is it?” “They’re gonna gas Mt. Danu!” Xena stood up. Her legs seemed like a separate part of her, foreign and unstable. Goober was at her side in a second, roving around her, she could feel the disquiet coming off her dog in waves. “Martha, shut up,” Tye said hard, “I swear, the Mt. Danu rumor mill can be so - you’re scaring my daughter! Look at her!” Xena very quickly composed her face. She forgot, sometimes. “It’s true! You two gotta run, they’re pulling people out of their houses, they-” “Martha. Martha, stop that, right now.” Martha stopped that right now. “Listen to me.” Silence, Martha’s shallow breathing, Goober pacing. “We’re gonna go, we’re gonna get Bet Waters from next door, and we’re gonna check out what’s happening. And it’ll be bad, but it won’t be that, because that’s ridiculous, alright? And Xena - you’re gonna stay here, you’re gonna keep the lights off and the door locked, and you’re not gonna answer it for nobody but me, we clear?” “Yes,” Xena said immediately, “I - Ma, do you wanna take Goober with you?” “Absolutely not. She stays with you, always,” Tye said, as Xena knew she would, but still. Worth an attempt. Tye and Martha left, Martha whispering in a hushed, frantic tone. Xena waited. She sunk to the floor eventually, there in the corner by their useless outlets, Goober still pacing back and forth in front of her, whining every now and then. But as she sat, the door seemed to get closer and closer, the wall against her back flimsier, until finally she rose, picked her way into the bedroom, but left the door open - not hiding, just a step back, a layer between here and there. Goober got up on the bed and stood in front of her, facing the door, growling low. One yell, shut off quickly. More shots. More screams. Getting closer. Xena ran her hands over her blanket. Soft and worn in familiar places, lint rolling under her fingers. Her own breathing was so loud. Her own heartbeat. How could she ever hear anything but her own cacophonous body? Sobbing, outside. Another scream. 

Xena could remember the day she’d come home to find her father dead, slumped over near the couch, his legs at odd angles and his arms crushed inwards like he was trying to keep his soul inside. She’d just been a kid, hadn’t really known, had run next door to find Martha for help after shaking him, yelling his name. But the moment right before, when she’d tripped over him, turned on the light and squinted, known ‘wrong’ without knowing what, how bad. Without knowing the exact details of what had changed she’d known then that she had entered the divide, the line between ‘before’ and ‘after.’ Grey space charged with soundless horror - what, what to do, fumbling motions, his heartbeat, where to check for his heartbeat, for his breath, but nothing, no, no more. It had stopped. And as soon as that knowledge was there, then, then the world had shifted. Martha hadn’t been much better, but she’d been better - ran and gotten Hava, a nurse down the street, who’d examined him with careful hands and spoken to Martha where Xena couldn’t hear them. She’d been next to her father, crouched down, holding his cold hand. He always had cold hands. It did not strike her as strange. It did not strike her as strange. It did not mean anything, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing - Martha had babysat Xena when she was younger, and she’d put on that voice when she talked to her next, but Xena had heard the truth underneath, had heard what was really happening with ‘why don’t you come over and I’ll call your Mama.’ But she’d let it be, she’d shut up, she’d watched a dumb cartoon while Martha cried and pretended she wasn’t crying, redialed Tye’s number calmly and methodically and gotten the answering machine each time. Hava - a virtual stranger before that day - had sat on the couch with Xena and held her, making calm, pointless commentary, distracting her, and Xena had welcomed it, had talked about nothing right back. She had tried to return to that middle, because ‘after’ meant- More shots. Xena put her head between her knees and breathed. Thought about the air filling her lungs - great, soft bags, processing and collecting oxygen, putting it in her blood, taking it to her brain, where the world lived. Where the world lived. There was a crash as the door flung open. Goober exploded into barks, bounding forward from the bed. Xena screamed.

<-prologue-     -ch2->

[princessofpylea]

so anyway not to be overly negative but i hate being trans and i really wish i wasnt. i’m not out at work which is awful and i hate it, yet i wear my binder every fucking day because i personally just cant wear a fucking bra, i dont want my chest pushed up i dont my chest sagging or visible in anyway , but idk i guess my binder doesnt work anyway cuz ppl , everyone everywhere still think i’m a girl even if i tell them i’m not, so i guess i’m just slowly damaging my own body for no god damn reason, i’ve started to get some serious issues wearing my binder, it hurts and by the end of the night i can barely breathe in that thing but its also sorta like.. i need it to stand straight, but working in a pretty physical labor kinda job wearing a binder is just slwly fucking killing me. also like i said i’m not out at work,but i reallly dont want to come out either cuz thats just gonna be... fucking hell too cuz its doesnt matter what I tell ppl i am theyre not gonna fucking listen to me unless i Look like a guy which is so so so far off into my future and expensive and i dont earn money for shit cuz i dont have a real job, i work 80% position and earn LESS than i would if i just had the standard monthly wellfare social whateverthefuck for doing shit Nothing and i just... i’m so tired

[tfwlawyers]

antipelargy said: I have this idea that Phoenix is super into LGBTQ rights and collects info about it. Over the years he's amassed articles, studies, and biographies about LGBTQ ppl and their history, and it's in a giant rainbow-colored binder. Whenever he hears someone being homophobic/transphobic/etc, he whips out this bigass folder and goes "here's evidence to show how wrong and bigoted you are." And if anyone wants to learn abt the community he'll teach them all the terms and history.

🙌 🙌 🙌 

antipelargy said: Also I was thinking, what is Phoenix adopted a cat and named it Sphinx and it became the mascot for Wright Anything Agency? It would hang out in the office and sometimes sneakily follow Phoenix to crime scenes and the court house. Soon everyone knows about the lawyer cat. Phoenix puts a tiny tie on Sphinx's collar

THAT’S ADORABLE…. I’ve always been a fan of the idea that animals for whatever reason just don’t typically like phoenix, which is ridic because he genuinely likes them and wishes they liked him /back, but this is so cute?? or like trucy picks up a stray and just. trucys her way into letting phoenix keep them and phoenix proceeds to spend the next 5 months trying to get it to just let him /pet them (I have this exact same hc with pess lmao, that she doesn’t like phoenix at first but he tries so damn hard to get her to by like sneaking her expensive treats when edgeworth isn’t looking and trying to just start with ear rubs etc, and it works eventually and phoenix is so ridiculously proud ;0; ) and thEN the following phoenix around gjfjd that’s super sweet

marvelfangeek09 asked: Head cannon that Phoenix was extremely into Hamilton (I mean a theater major and the game takes place in 2016) so he'll be singing it all the time. Because he sings it so much it will get into everyone's head. Mia will start humming the theme, realize it, then loudly swears. Maya just accepts it and starts belting it out (but prob wrong). Edgeworth will start humming, realize what he's doing, then wistfully smile and sigh bc he's just so in love he can't help it.

I HAVE FINALLY ACCEPTED THEATER PHOENIX AS THE SINGLE TRUTH AND ANY AND ALL HCS HAVING TO DO WITH IT ARE A+++

actualmomgarnet said: Ok ok I think I thought of a headcanon that's been kinda accepted by fandom?? But I love it anyway SO ANYWAY I've been playing pw vs prof. Layton AND I FINALLY KNOW WHERE THAT FUCKING BREAD LINE COMES FROM I LITERALLY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THAT but anyway.. phoenix puns. Phoenix is the pun master. He slips puns in everything he can. HE BALANTLY AND HORRIBLY PUNS EVERYTHING. trucy adores it. Apollo hates him. Edgeworth? Edgeworth.. PLOT TWIST PUNS RIGHT BACK. But his puns? More elegant. Refined.

phoenix wright is a monster who loves puns and needs to be stopped (edgeworth being exactly the same is ghdklghd goD THAT’S SO ACCURATE)

[thelastspeecher]

Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 11: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11   Chapter 12   Chapter 13   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Chapter 16   AO3

I definitely did not plan on posting this today, but like what happens in this chapter, plans don’t always work out the way you want.  I’m pretty excited.  This chapter is really cheesy and fluffy, and so is the next one.  But the one after that?  ...Not quite.  Also, the de-aging thing from the previous chapter was resolved “off-screen”.  Anyways, enjoy!

April 1, 1977 – Gravity Falls

               Stan followed his girlfriend and his twin brother deeper into the abandoned mines.  

               “Ya really wanna spend yer birthday chasin’ down dinosaurs?” he asked, his voice echoing.  “Ya wouldn’t prefer to go to that restaurant with the ocean view?”  Angie shook her head.

               “That place is expensive.  Trackin’ dinosaurs is free.”  She looked back at him.  “Ya didn’t have to come with.”

               “You’re my girlfriend.  It’s your birthday.  If I abandoned ya, Lute’d have my head.”

               “I know ya didn’t really like Gravity Falls the last time we visited.”

               “Gnomes chewed through the brake wires of the car I’ve had since I was sixteen,” Stan said flatly.  

               “Yeah.”  Angie fell back a few steps.  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank ya fer workin’ past yer hatred fer this town to spend time with me.”

               “Heh.  It ain’t a big deal.  Especially since this is way better than hearin’ Lute rant about how ‘that ain’t what southern men do’.  Your brother’s got some interesting thoughts ‘bout what bein’ a southern gentleman means. And for some reason, he seems to be under the impression that I’m one.”  Angie chuckled.  She froze.

               “Did ya hear that?”

               “Hear what?”  A roar echoed.  

               “That.”  

               “Yep.  Definitely heard that.”

               “I’ve found the nest!” Ford called.  He ran back to them.  “But there’s a slight problem.  I disturbed the mother.”

               “That’s more than a slight problem, Sixer,” Stan said.  “I think it’s time to go.”

               “What?  But we didn’t get any pictures!” Angie protested.  Stan grabbed her hand.

               “If ya get killed on my watch, yer folks’ll kill me.  C’mon.” She pulled her hand out of his grip.

               “No, I need at least one picture.”  Angie strode away determinedly.  “If’n yer so concerned ‘bout my safety, ya can follow me.”  A shadow fell over her.

               “Angie!”  Stan tackled her to the ground, narrowly avoiding the dinosaur’s claws.  They tumbled down a nearby slope, coming to a stop at its base.  He looked at Angie, whom he was effectively pinning to the ground.  She was so close that he could count every freckle on her face and see a thin silver ring around her pupils, contrasting the bright blue of the rest of her iris.  It reminded him of something.  He thought back to the small box he had left back with Fiddleford, at Ford’s house.  

               Now’s as good a time as any.  She stared at him, a pink flush beginning to spread across her cheeks.

               “Will ya marry me?” he blurted out.  Angie’s eyes widened.  

               “What?”

               “Banjolina Quinn McGucket, will ya marry me?” he said, more firmly this time. “I know I’m not on one knee, and the ring’s back at Ford’s house, but-”

               “Yes,” she interrupted.  

               “Wait, really?”

               “Yes, really,” she said.  “Ya goober.” Stan grinned at her.

               “I’m yer goober, now,” Stan said.  Angie smiled.

               “Ya most definitely are.”

----- 

May 1978 – Gumption

               “So, the wedding’s in a month, right?” Lute asked Angie.  Angie rolled her eyes.  

               “Ya got the invitation ages ago!  An’ all the information is in that there binder in front of ya.”

               “Oh.”  Lute opened the binder.  “Yep. June 18.  Good choice.  I’ve heard good things about June weddings.”  After her graduation with her master’s degree, Angie had come back to Gumption with Stan, and they were currently finishing up the wedding plans.

               “An’ it’s here in Gumption,” Angie continued.  “In the barn.  So we’ll have to clean it up a bit.”

               “Why not the church?” Fiddleford asked.  He and Ford were taking a break from their research in Gravity Falls to visit Gumption quickly before the wedding.  

               “Stan’s Jewish,” Angie said shortly.

               “Right.”

               “Angie, does this mean ya get to do the thing where ya step on the glass an’ break it?” Lute asked eagerly.  Angie looked at Stan.  Stan nodded. “Dang.  That’s excitin’.”

               “Y’all are weird,” Stan said, shaking his head.  Angie kissed him on the cheek.

               “Yer marryin’ into my weird fam’ly, though.”  

               “Fiddleford, Tate’s up,” Ford said, walking into the living room, holding his son.  

               “Did ya change him?” Fiddleford asked.

               “Yes.”

               “I’ll hold him, then.  He likes gettin’ attention.”

               “No, I’ll hold him!” Angie said immediately.

               “Are you sure?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.

               “I don’t get to spend enough time with the lil polydactyl.”  Ford handed Tate to her.  “My lord, Tate, yer gettin’ so big already!” Angie cooed at her nephew. She looked at Fiddleford.  “How old is he, again?”

               “He was born November 17, so almost exactly six months,” Fiddleford replied. Angie looked back at Tate.

               “Yer already halfway to bein’ a year old, Tater Tot!  Such a big boy!”  She blew a raspberry on Tate’s stomach.  He giggled.  “Such a happy boy, too!  What an absolute cutie-pie.”

               “Since he started sleeping through the night, he’s definitely started to seem cuter,” Ford said.  He rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been on Mom to take care of two infants at the same time.”

               “It’s a good thing twins don’t run in the McGucket fam’ly, then,” Lute said, turning another page in the wedding plan binder.  “Otherwise ya might have had to deal with that.”  

               “Are ya goin’ to have more kidlets?” Angie asked her older brother. Fiddleford shook his head.

               “I think just the one child is enough,” Fiddleford said, taking his son from Angie.  “I don’t plan on goin’ through that whole experience again.  It weren’t pleasant.”

               “Adoption is-”

               “Just the one munchkin is enough fer us,” Fiddleford said firmly. “Raisin’ kids is hard work, an’ we’re already busy, what with Tate and our research.”  He smiled at Angie.  “I understand where yer comin’ from.  I know ya enjoy bein’ an auntie, and ya like spoilin’ yer nieces and nephews.  But ya won’t be gettin’ any more from Ford and myself.”  

               “Fair enough,” Angie conceded.  She cocked her head.  “So, ya had to give up doin’ research fer a while.  How’d that go?  Just so’s I know.”  Stan looked up from the wedding plans he had been perusing with Lute.

               “Uh, what?” Stan asked.  Angie looked over at him.

               “I ain’t pregnant now, don’t worry.”

               “I know you’re not, but the fact that you’re askin’ before we’re even married is makin’ me a bit nervous.”

               “It’s just fer future reference,” Angie said with a wave of her hand.

               “Ya might go a bit stir-crazy when it’s yer turn,” Fiddleford told her. “I stayed inside a lot an’ didn’t do much, ‘specially near the end.”  Angie grimaced.

               “Yeesh.  But it’d be worth it.  Fer one thing, Stan’s cuter than Ford.  An’ I know it seems impossible, but that means a kid of ours would be even more adorable than Tate.”

               “Damn straight,” Stan said, turning his attention back to the wedding plans.  “And our kid would have a better name.”

               “Tate is a perfectly fine name,” Ford said defensively.  “Fiddleford and I agreed to forego the McGucket naming convention.”

               “Ya might have mostly foregone it, but ya did name him after Uncle Tate,” Lute said.

               “So?”

               “Do ya know what Tate is short for?”

               “It’s not short for anything.”  

               “Not yer Tate.  Uncle Tate.”

               “Oh, um, no,” Ford confessed.  Angie snickered.  “What? What is it short for?”

               “Isn’t he the one named after food?” Stan asked.  Ford looked at Fiddleford.

               “Fiddleford.  What did we name our son?”

               “We named him a proper name,” Fiddleford said reassuringly.  “His namesake just don’t have that.”

               “What’s Uncle Tate’s real name?” Ford asked.  Fiddleford sighed.

               “His full name is Potato.”

-----

September, 1978 – Gravity Falls

               Summer was beginning to fade, and the town of Gravity Falls was bustling with citizens making the most of the last warm days.  On the drive up, Angie had been bubbling with excitement over getting permission to finish her doctorate by studying some of the amphibians in Gravity Falls.  Her happiness almost masked the dread Stan was feeling.  Something about the lumber town felt odd to him, like bad things would happen there.  But now that he was officially moving boxes into the house they had just rented, the initial unease had gone to the back of Stan’s mind.  

               “Thanks fer helpin’ us move in,” Angie said, handing a box to Lute.

               “It’s no problem.  I’m always ‘round to help my baby sister,” he replied.  He tucked the box under one arm.

               “It’s not like you have anythin’ better to do, anyways,” Stan said, taking another box out of the trailer.  “What exactly do ya do, again?”

               “Mostly just bother my siblin’s,” Lute replied.  Angie opened the passenger door of the truck and took out the terrarium holding Tubbs.  She went inside the house.  Once she was gone, Lute turned to Stan.  “So, when are the two of ya goin’ to pop out a kid?”  

               “Lute, what the fuck.”

               “Hey, it’s a perfectly valid question.”

               “We’ve only been married fer three months.”

               “So?”

               “Isn’t that a bit fast?”

               “Not fer a McGucket,” Lute said.  “Ma didn’t even finish school ‘fore she had the oldest three.”

               “Well, we only just moved here.  Angie wouldn’t wanna stop doin’ her research just after startin’ it.” Stan rubbed his neck nervously. “An’ I’m still lookin’ for a job. ‘Arkansas farmhand’ and ‘San Diego car salesman’ don’t make the greatest resume.  We haven’t even talked ‘bout kids, beyond mentionin’ that they’ll eventually happen.  So, no, Lute, we’re not plannin’ on havin’ kids.  Not yet.”

               “What’s that thing folks say?  ‘God laughs at yer plans’?”  Stan eyed Lute suspiciously.  

               “What are ya gettin’ at, McGucket?” he asked.  Lute sighed and set down the box he was holding.

               “Ma didn’t plan on havin’ the older three.  It’s a well-known fact in the fam’ly that Violynn, Harper, and Basstian were all surprises.”

               “I don’t think I’m likin’ what I’m hearin’.”

               “Pa has seven siblin’s.”

               “Damn.”

               “The McGuckets are a very fertile fam’ly.  An’ unless you ‘n Angie are abstainin’…”  Lute eyed Stan curiously.  

               “Lute.  I’m not gonna talk ‘bout my sex life.  Do ya really want to know if your baby sister’s had-”

               “Fair enough,” Lute said quickly.  He shrugged. “Just somethin’ to keep in mind. Tate weren’t planned, either.”

               “Lute, don’t say things like that,” Angie said, joining them again.  

               “It’s true,” Lute protested.  Angie put her hands on her hips.

               “It don’t matter if it’s true.  It’s rude.  But that reminds me.”  Angie turned to Stan.  “We’re babysittin’ Tate tomorrow.”

               “Again?”

               “His dads have research to do.  I just want to help.”

               “Uh-huh.  Sure,” Stan said.  “It doesn’t have anythin’ to do with how much ya like spendin’ time with babies.”  Angie rolled her eyes and took the box he was holding.

               “They got backed up a bit on their work after he was born,” she called as she walked back inside.  “They need to catch up.”  

               “If ya say so.”  Stan looked at Lute.  “Do ya really think that-”

               “I ain’t a doctor.  I can’t tell ya yer chances fer havin’ a surprise kid.”

               “You literally just told me you thought that’s what’ll happen.”

               “…Point taken.”  Lute handed Stan another box from the trailer.  “If’n it makes ya feel better, I think you’d be a good dad.”

               “Yeah?”

               “Yeah.  Lord knows the Gucklings think yer the best thing since sliced bread.  Yer a natural with kids, even if ya don’t feel like ya are.”

               “I’m pretty sure yer just lyin’ to me to try to get another niece or nephew,” Stan said.  Lute scoffed.

               “I ain’t a liar, no matter how cute I think yer kid would be.”  Angie opened the front door and stuck her head out.

               “Are you fellers goin’ to bring in any more boxes or keep chit-chattin’ at the truck?”

----- 

               “Aren’t you the cutest lil feller I ever done see,” Angie cooed at Tate. She and Stan were at Ford and Fiddleford’s house, babysitting Tate.  So far, he’d been remarkably well-behaved, something Stan claimed was due to his parents being nerds.  Tate giggled and grabbed at Angie’s nose.  She laughed. “Yup.  That’s the fam’ly nose.  And you’ve got it too, Tater Tot.”  She sighed.  

               “What is it?” Stan asked.

               “I want one,” Angie said softly.  She played with Tate’s hands.  

               “Well, it’s not like anybody else is here,” Stan began.  Angie eyed him.

               “What are ya gettin’ at?”

               “If ya decide to take him, I won’t tell.  Ya can head for the border with Tate and I’ll meet up with ya.”

               “Mexico?”

               “No.  Canada.”

               “I did learn French at West Coast Tech,” Angie said.  Her eyes gleamed.  She stood up.

               “Whoa, whoa,” Stan said.  “I was kidding.”

               “Oh.”  Angie sat down again.  “Uh, so was I.”  

               “No ya weren’t!”

               “Hey, you don’t know me.”

               “Yeah, I do,” Stan said firmly.  Angie sighed.

               “Yer right.”  She kissed Tate on the forehead.  “This lil feller’s just so goldarn cute.  It ain’t right that Ford got a baby ‘fore I did.”

               “…Why?” Stan asked.  Angie shrugged.

               “‘Cause it’s Ford?”

               “Fair enough.”  Stan leaned over to look at his nephew.  Tate grabbed one of Stan’s fingers and began to chew on it excitedly.  Stan softened.  “You want a baby, huh?”

               “Yeah…” Angie said softly.  

               “But ya understand now ain’t the best time fer that.  We’re still settlin’ here in Gravity Falls, and ya just started your research, so we should probably wait a bit.”  Angie cracked a half-smile.

               “Does that mean ya want to be a dad?”  

               “…Maybe.”

               “Glad we’re on the same page.  I want a lil one, too, but we should prob’ly hold off a bit.  How long do ya want to wait?”

               “How ‘bout no kids ‘til after our first anniversary?  That way we can go as wild as we want next June,” Stan suggested.  Angie chuckled.  “Think you can wait that long?”

               “Yeah.” She kissed him on the cheek.  “Look at ya, bein’ responsible.”

               “Well, that an’, I dunno, havin’ a kid right away doesn’t seem like a good idea. I’m pretty sure it’s ruined marriages.” Angie’s eyes softened.

               “Stanley, it’d take more than a baby to make me leave ya.”

               “What would it take?” Stan asked.

               “Why do ya want to know?”

               “I wanna avoid doin’ it.”

               “I can’t think of anythin’,” Angie said, bouncing Tate on one of her knees.

               “…Really?”

               “Darlin’, I can’t think of a single thing that would make me so angry with ya that I’d leave.”

               “Nothin’?”

               “Absolutely nothin’.”

----- 

December 23, 1978 – Gumption

               Normally, at the holidays, the McGucket house was even more warm and welcoming than usual.  But Stan couldn’t help the nervousness he was feeling.  Sitting next to him at the dining table, Angie grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

               “Darlin’, it’s fine,” she whispered in his ear.  “You’ll make it through this.”

               “Why do ya want to wait ‘til January, to tell ‘em, again?” he whispered back.

               “Ya know why.”

               “Are the two lovebirds whisperin’ sweet nothin’s to each other?” Lute asked teasingly.  

               “What’s it to you?” Stan asked.  Lute reached out to take Angie’s glass.

               “Ya want some wine, lil sis?”  Angie hurriedly grabbed it from him.

               “No, Lute.  Thanks, though.”  Lute frowned at her.

               “What happened to the Angie I know an’ love?  It ain’t like you’ll get drunk.  McGuckets got fortitude.”

               “I know how our fam’ly works, ya goon,” Angie said.  She shrugged.  “I just ain’t in the mood fer alcohol right now.”

               “Is that so?” Ma McGucket asked.  There was an odd look on her face.  “Is there any reason fer that?”

               “N-no,” Angie stammered.  She swallowed, suddenly turning a slight shade of green.  She stood up abruptly.  “I’ll be back in a mo’.”  She rushed off.

               “She’s been usin’ the facilities an awful lot,” Lute said, taking his seat on the other side of Stan.  “Is she sick or somethin’?”

               “No.  At least, if she is, she didn’t tell me,” Stan said.  He looked at Ma McGucket again.  She smiled knowingly at him.

               Stan turned beet red.

[myfuckofffundjourney]

Money Diary, Week #3

Thursday Jan 18

Wake up, bus to the shuk - 5.9 nis. Grab a coffee and I don’t even want it. 11 nis. So weird. Maybe it’s because I’m already running late and feeling anxious about time. I drink half and then grab groceries for the client I’m cooking for, all of which I’ll get reimbursed for so I won’t list them. I also cab to their place - billing them as well. Nobody got time to haul groceries on a bus #lazy.

After cooking for 6 hrs (hey guess who just made +1200nis!!) I pack a meal from what I made (chicken, potatoes, and an Asian pear, and it’s all fucking delicious, and free, and I even had a container because of yesterdays lunch that I took to school, score!) and bus to the central bus station. 5.9 I’m feeling a bit woozy so grab soda water to calm my stomach. 7 nis. I decide to finally buy a pair of Blundstones, a decision I’ve thought about for literally like five years. I see a pair that I like that are on sale for 350 and I grab them. Also add 50 nis to Rav Kav. The boots feel great in the store and for the dash to the bus, but as soon as I’m off the bus and walking to class, they start to kill! I’m worried I got the wrong size, even though the next half size up is way too big on me. I take them off in middle of class to make sure I don’t fuck them up too badly. Finish class, head home, make toast with peanut butter and hang out with Josh.

Friday Jan 19

Wake up and peel myself out of bed to grab some random groceries - I have no coffee in the house, and really feel like having eggs for breakfast. At the grocery store, I also find an avocado thats not hard as a rock (fun fact: apparently there were no deliveries of avocados to Israel for a week and so the price doubled, and none of them are ready yet. I don’t care that the price is doubled - it’s only like 6 shekel anyway and i’ve been wanting an avocado all week.) I get eggs, an avocado, and laundry detergent - 28 nis. There is a massive bag of Tide for 60 shekel (8 kg) and I think I might get it because it smells so nice and is cheaper per kilo than anything in the store and will last for like, half a year or something. And in two weeks I’ll even have a HOUSE to store it in!!!

I stop at my favorite coffee grinder guy and pick up 100g of coffee for 6 nis and think back to when I was living in Florentine and I could find the same amount for at a minimum 10 nis, usually more. Thank you, Jaffa gods, for making prices reasonable.  This usually can last for almost a week, but it’s exam season and I’m going to be mainlining coffee.

When i get home, I make a good breakfast (toast, eggs, salad, coffee) and THEN I CAN DO MY LAUNDRY! FOR FREE!!!! I’m so effing excited, it’s been literally four months without a washing machine at my disposal. I’ll probably need to throw some things in the dryer at the laundromat because its going to be a fucking COLD weekend and I have no clean socks and stuff, but still!

Anyway, I’m at my next conundrum, which is the fact that it’s now sale season and there are so many things I want/need. In the wants column, we’ll just put new clothes. I’m v bored of that I have and would love some new additions. In the needs column, we’ll put shoes - this is a biggie, I hate buying shoes and spending money on them - house items (coffee table, bed, closet, curtains, oven), a new phone (this one is pissing me off with its jerkiness and general crappy demanour. I could probably get it to work well if I do a factory reset but the screen is also cracked and replacing it will cost at least 400 nis. I’d rather get a new/secondhand phone.) Anyway, IKEA is having a sale, all the clothing stores are having massive sales, and I’m not sure what to do. These are more investment type items, but it’s still hard to justify spending the money. And then the fact that Uri and Jordana are getting married soon - I’ll actually make a bit of money from catering his aufruf kiddush/her shabbat kallah dinner, but not a ton.

I FINALLY get a message that I’m getting paid for an event I did like, three weeks ago - that’s another +1,630. YESSSS. That plus an extra +500 for shabbat will be so helpful for the move.

Run out to throw some things in the dryer - I just collect random shekels and don’t actually keep track, but i think it’s around 8 nis. While waiting for my stuff to dry, I get some binders, highlighters, little page markers, and also use the stores hole-puncher to hole-punch LITERALLY like 500 pages of notes. Don’t have to buy a hole-puncher though! It’s still 33 nis. Ugh.

I end up heading to Jerusalem kinda stupidly late, and end up taking a taxi to the bus station with Josh, but he covers it because he owes me money for groceries. The sherut is 35 nis - ugh. I’ve left my purse at home so Josh lends me a 50 that he also says to use toward groceries.

Saturday Jan 20

I work for WAY longer than I would have wanted to, and it really isn’t very much money, and I really needed the time to study, but on the other hand, it was pretty easy and it was 500 nis. So, balances out. After Shabbat is out I head to Jerusalem - 5.9 for the train, and 16 nis for the bus. When I get to Tel Aviv, the bus to my house is a friggin half hour away so I have to walk home, which is a massive waste of time. Really need to sit and calculate how much that half hour was worth to me, because I’m SOOOO behind on my studying, but can I just stay up a half hour later? Does life even work that way?

I make a peanut butter and banana wrap. Wraps are THE BEST thing to have around but I never buy them because I feel like they’re expensive? But a friend left these at my house and they’ve been the base of many a quick happy dinner, so maybe I’ll keep them around. Also come up with a plan to market myself as a meal-prep delivery service for people who can’t cook at home... i wonder if I’d ever actually execute that.

Sunday January 21

Basically spend all day inside studying/making food/cleaning/doing laundry. All of these are relatively money-less endeavours! On my way to school I do grab some fruit because I have none in the house. 9 nis

A friend coming from New York places an order on amazon for me for bamboo toothbrushes and charcoal exfoliating gloves - those guys are the shit and I hate throwing out plastic toothbrushes. They last quite a while and it only comes out to 70 shek - I’ll pay him when I see him.

Monday January 22

I meet Kim at the shuk for a grocery shop. It doesn’t really feel so smart to do the shop before my CSA gets in. I need to recalibrate my weeks so that I can do it on Tuesday morning and not be starving. Anyway, I get:

Parmesan and goat cheese - 24.6

Oatmeal, wild rice, and raisins - 20

Salmon - the guy cuts me way more than I asked for and I tell him off. I asked for 300 grams for a reason, mister, not for 350 grams. I’m turning into an asshole lol. 33 nis

Avocado, sweet potato, zucchini, chilis - 18 nis

Clementines, potatoes, cherry tomatoes, and an impulse buy dragon fruit - 34 nis

Green onion - 5 nis

On the way home, I still can use my transfer on my Rav Kav. Hell yes. Now I just need to stock up on things like more coffee, wraps, and one or two other things, but between this and the CSA I should be good for the week.

At home i make a big pot of rice, roasted veggies, two sauces (one using up cilantro that was going bad and yogurt I didn’t feel like eating), salmon, and sauteed greens from last weeks CSA. Now I have food options! And I only need to finish my celery and romaine lettuce from the CSA. Don’t know what to do with it though. Hmm.

Buttttt ugh I get an email from the school. I owe tuition, I think it’s loan time. I’m thinking of asking them if I can consolidate the debt, and when I do a huge work event I can throw a few thousand shekel at tuition. PAYING FOR SCHOOL IS SUCH A BITCH. But at least the loan system here doesn’t blow. I also get an email about a grant. GRANT I NEED YOU GET IN MY WALLET.

CSA box comes with some dope looking ingredients. I’ll have to cook wisely this week so nothing gets wasted though - my fridge is already FULL of food. What a nice feeling :).

Tuesday January 23

I wake up late, ugh. Go grab coffee - this time i get double what I got last week - rice milk, and cashews, to maybe turn into butter. It comes out to way more than i anticipated - 44 nis. Eek.Still though, haven’t eaten out once this week except for one coffee and one bottle of water, so I’m feeling good! Then I feel terrible when i think about tuition and moving. Gah! Cashew butter tastes amazing though, so there’s that!

Finally get an answer to an insurance claim I filed (and won) months ago! They had sent me a cheque (srsly who does that) which I never received, so they are going to cancel it, and wire me the funds. It’s around $350 - just wish I’d done this before the dollar crashed so hard. Oh well. Still free-ish money!

Buy an eclair. I need some comfort sweets. Interestingly, I don’t think I’ve had anything with overt amounts of processed sugar in a few days - since Saturday, I guess. I’ve had honey in my tea and stuff, but that’s it. I wonder if I’ll feel anything? It’s only mediocre but I needed to get out and interact with a human who is not Josh/the dog. 10 nis.

Wednesday January 24

I have to print some notes for this exam that i am definitely in no way passing (hi moed bet!) It’s way more expensive than it would be at school. Damn. 12.5

Total: 770.7 - minus shoes - 420.7

School/misc- 403 (includes a 350 nis pair of shoes that are too small and that I will try to return)

Groceries- 221

Eating out- 28

Transportation - 118.7

Money earned: 500, 1620

The takeaway from this week is: School is effing expensive, and I spent freely on groceries to not be tempted to eat out which worked (slash my extreme isolation/studying helps too) but I also bought a lot of “nice things” that I don’t need. On the other hand, I’ll have lots of food stored for the next week or two. Wins all around, I think. Would be nice to get most of my weeks spending to look like this (minus the shoes) - I could be down with spending only 400 nis a week.