#anyway I feel sad and desperate looking at my bank and thinking about the life saving meds I need to buy

[kitsunebattleboxer]

This is such a random vent, but I’m going to anyways. So I was thinking about a time in high school where a friend invited a group of us over to hang out. And their parent gave us like $40 to get food. Which was…. Not enough money, but it was very kind and generous of the parent so none of us wanted to complain, but we were are all sort of still hungry after. And I remember my friend being anxious about how much food we could order so they didn’t spend too much. But the thing is, this family is upper middle class, pretty well off. And I think the parent genuinely thought that that was going to be enough to feed all of us (like 4 kids).

Sure, we could’ve ordered something super cheap, but at that point at least two of us are lactose intolerant, and one of us is gluten-free. It’s hard to get food that accommodates everyone even when no one has dietary restrictions.

So I ask, you wonder why the kids are so fucked up today? Our environment is literally killing us (highly bastardized wheat grains anyone?) and we all have fucked up health issues, on top of that no one can afford to eat. You want to eat something healthy? that’s half your paycheck. Things are so drastically different from how they used to be 15, 20, 30 years ago. And I think a lot of older folks can’t even comprehend this.

Things have always been bad for every generation at some point. That is true. And it is a generalization to say people don’t understand the plight that gen z and millennials are going through now. But what the absolute fuck? I am a full time student, working a job, not paying rent. And I still have no money to do anything “fun”. Why? Because I am saving every penny due to an ingrained financial fear of not being able to afford health care. To not be able to afford someplace to live. I had to give my mom 200 dollars to pay for groceries yesterday, because her savings were out. I know she will pay me back, of that I have no worry. Hell I don’t even mind if she took it outright.

United States of America? No. United States of Fuck You, work forever and die penniless. 

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind.

while the absolute horror continues to bombard palestine - the nonstop bombings, the dead bodies in the street and trapped under rubble those living can no longer get to, the restriction of health care, newborn babies left to die, starvation and thirst, literal sewage in the streets spreading disease, all of this in gaza and even in the west bank, the increased bombings there and raids - daily, meanwhile, here in canada, we apparently have nothing fucking better to do then arrest people for using pro-palestine chants under the guise of it being hate motivated.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

I wish this was a fucking joke, but no. a protestor in calgary was arrested for using 'from the river to the sea, palestine will be free.' apparently the cops stopped by to 'inform' the protestors what chants were allowed and what were ~no no's~ which included 'from the river to the sea', and when a protestor used it anyway (because it's NOT FUCKING HATE SPEECH) they arrested him. for calling for the freedom of people under an occupation.

this is canada, supposedly one of the most free places to be (built atop the blood of indigenous people but anyways). but with pro-israel propaganda and the weaponizing of anti-semitism being repeated by our media and leaders, shit like this happens.

someone tell me right now where in the phrase 'from the river to the sea, palestine will be free' there is a call for an extermination of jewish people. look me in the fucking eyes and try to find where in that call for freedom it shows hatred for jews. this is fucking pathetic. this is a call for freedom. this is a call for liberation of a people who've been oppressed and assaulted for years, since before both my 60+ parents were born. this is a call for them to be able to walk freely within their own homes, within their own land, to be able to control their own lives. liberation for their safety and for their children, from the constant risk of arrest, assault and raids by the israeli army.

this is about ending an occupation, not the jewish people & their way of life.

many new sites like cbc and global reported on this as well as others; the global article also interviewed a jewish man, who claimed the chant was anti-semitic. it mentioned that he was the president of an organization called 'Federation CJA' - one google search of their website, and wouldn't you fucking know it, they're in partnership with israel, from 'birthright' trips to allowing you to send goddamn postcards to their poor, sad soldiers who're exhausted from bombing innocent civilians all day.

so while we sit here in safety, humming over think-pieces about whether a demand from an exhausted people to finally let them be free secretly means slaughtering every person of another marginalized group in site, the death toll in gaza has gone above 11,000.

of all the fucking absurd things canadians could be talking about right now, this has to take the first-place blue ribbon.

frankly, what this does mean at least, is one thing - when the occupier starts crying because the people they've trampled on for years demanded they stop & it hurt their feelings, it means they're scared. it means that the marches and support are working. when the oppressors start weaponizing language used for liberation and claim it's a cry to hang them from the gallows, then they're getting desperate. it's a reminder to us all to keep pushing and fight for a liberated palestine.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free

(I s2g if any zionists come in my notes trying to claim some bs that is just the regurgitated rhetoric of the propaganda you've swallowed it's on fucking site I will block you).

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3443

today has been fuckin ROUGH, my dudes.

i woke up this morning and almost immediately got overwhelmed by stuff. car accident stuff, medical bill stuff, cleaning stuff, putting stuff away, money stuff, literally anything that i had to think about or possibly find i was immediately stressed about. my broken glasses, an unpaid insurance claim, unpaid medical bills that i didn't know where to send, phone calls, breakfast, missing paperwork. literally i sat up in bed with my head in my hands for a solid ten minutes because i couldn't handle looking at my disaster of a room. it just made everything worse.

the anxiety and stress followed me most of the day. it still lingers, even now.

i didn't feel confident enough in myself to be an adult today. in fact, today was one of those days when i wanted to sit with my plushies and rock back and forth all day and be tucked into bed. it felt like i was five. it happens a lot, actually, and it's very frustrating because it happens at the worst possible moments.

i had to push through it. as mom looked for some of my paperwork, she also picked up some of the things in my room that didn't need to be there. it made it a little more manageable. i could at least look at it.

mom and i sat down and looked at paperwork after collecting a bunch. we looked through insurance things for my car accident. i went through and checked things off. i had questions so i wrote them down. i filled out forms and called my claims agent and left a message. when she didn't pick up, mom and i went to the bank to get things notarized. with that done, we got starbucks and lunch and my agent called back just as i was putting my stuff down after coming back. i asked my questions and got some answers. so that was good.

i also got a notification that my ebay package was delivered - the one with my new glasses frames in it. i ran out to grab the mail and i took the box and my purse and went to get my lenses changed into the new frames. i had to wait a bit, and while i waited i realized i was so excited to get my new frames that i'd left my phone on the table at home.

good news is the frames are perfect.

i was able to hit up walmart after for a few things i needed, like my medication refills, some body wash, and a new supply of period supplies, but i also got more decorations for the office for valentine's day and laundry baskets for me and joel. they're a distinct color so no one should fuck it up.

also i scheduled an appointment to get my hair done later this month. mom and i talked about it and she said she was willing to pay for it for me, still. she mentioned it's something i do for my mental health, and she's right. it's been a long time since i last got my hair done, so i'm happy about being able to do it again.

after returning home after all of that, i was tired. mom and i went upstairs and played one of the new games i got for christmas and it was a lot of fun to play. i'll bring it over to play with joel, although a lot of people don't like the same kind of games i do. it kind of makes me sad because people don't like the puzzle games i like so i don't have people to play them with. sure i don't have a lot of time anyway, but id still like to play. i miss playing. so much of my life is just work and sleep and drive and i don't ever really get to just play. i keep plushies with me because i want the comfort of having them with me because i don't have time to dedicate to having them with me. so i just keep them with me. it's. it's frustrating. and it makes me sad.

but yeah not much happened besides a ton of things that needed to be cleared up for my mental health.

next up is cutting my nails. i'm so tired. i'm exhausted and im hungry and im tired and i need a vacation desperately. and probably a new job. it's taxing. i love my job. i love my coworkers. but what i have to do to go to work daily is unsustainable. i've really worked there for six months. i am very fucking close to burning out.

i need to talk to christine. too many things have happened.

also i'd like a joel hug. he gives good hugs and encourages me to only worry about the things i can control. he helps me put things into perspective.

i hope he likes the laundry baskets.

[igotbulletproof-insomnia]

Adopting Bangtan 09

01 previous

AN UNLIKELY WEDDING

You bit your lip as you stared at your phone. You had an email from Jimin and Taehyung’s mother. Song Jieun was your old coworker who you had adored, but who also tricked you into taking care of her children so that she could get married without worry. Your respect and opinion of her had gone down significantly with that move, but you… didn’t exactly understand, but you did appreciate that she gave her children to someone who could properly take care of them instead of leaving them to fend for themselves which had seemed to be her original plan.

What’s wrong?” Seokjin looked up from the video game he was playing, ignoring the cut scene he had watched a dozen times before now to focus on you. You could hear the younger boys playing in their bedroom, the sounds of legos clattering and mouth-made explosions louder than what their closed bedroom door could block off. They were sounds that had become familiar in the past six months, sounds that used to be made by one child and were nowhere near this boisterous.

“Nothing,” you shrugged while you scrolled through the email a second time and tried to sort out your feelings. Seokjin’s stare burned into your cheek and rolled your eyes. “I mean it, nothing is wrong. Just…” You could feel your face twisting into a dissatisfied expression and tried to relax it back into something more neutral. There were times when you found you could rely on the eldest of your children, and times when you thought it was better to keep things to yourself, and you weren’t sure which one this was.

“Someone emailed me,” you hedge. “I’m just trying to decide how I feel.”

“That’s your worried face,” said Seokjin. “You only make that face about work and about us. But you also whine when you’re worried about work, so it’s about us, isn’t it? Which one of the kids is failing school?”

“No one is failing school,” you laugh. “Namjoon could be doing better, but I’m certain he just doesn’t care as much as his teachers want him to. Neither does Yoongi…. You know, as a teacher myself, I should probably be more concerned.”

“You’re appropriately concerned,” Seokjin reassured you. “Why should you worry about things you can’t control? You’re just going to age faster.”

“You’re going to stop calling me old one day.”

“Lying isn’t healthy,”

“Says the kid who lied his way into adoption.”

“I took advantage of my situation. That’s not lying, that’s cunning.”

“I didn’t raise you like this,” you say, standing.

“No, but that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? I’m raising myself, six kids, and my guardian. I can’t tell if I’m doing a piss poor job or not.”

“Language, Kim Seokjin!”

“Dinner, seonsaengnim!” he shouted back. The problem was, you aren’t sure if he successfully distracted you from your concerns or if you successfully distracted him from you.

===

Song Jieun’s email bothered you intermittently throughout the week. It’s not like you forgot she existed. You’ve received a hefty sum into your bank account every month for taking care of the boys, enough to make you wonder exactly why her new husband didn’t want to take care of them when he would probably be spending a lot less money if they were under his own roof. So no, Song Jieun wasn’t someone you forgot existed unlike like you could the rest of your kids’ parents, she just… wasn’t relevant. So it bothered you that she was trying to make herself relevant now, after six months of silence.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Seokjin poked your face. You startled, unaware that he had approached, but thankfully kept your coffee mug full. “What are you so worried about?”

“Nothing,” you say for the umpteenth time that week. “I’m not worried about anything.”

“You’ve been ‘not-worried’ since last Thursday,” Seokjin argued.

“So then why do you keep asking me what’s wrong?” You didn’t have to turn to see the weighted stare he gave you, you could feel it. That was the thing about your kids, all of them. They had a way of making you feel like you were the one in trouble, you were the one being raised instead of the other way around. Some days you were convinced that they were the ones keeping you around, explicitly for financial reasons.

“If you’re just going to insist on being stubborn,” Seokjin sighed. He poured two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for Yoongi, and turned the kettle on for Namjoon. The other boys would be zombie-walking their way into the kitchen for breakfast soon, so you and Seokjin set to work preparing leftovers from dinner a few nights ago.

“Song Jieun wants to visit the boys,” after a long, silent moment, you finally admit your concern. The kettle was puffing it’s pre-whistle warning, so you turned it off, sitting the pot on its wicker table mat until Namjoon made his way to the table.

“Who’s Song Jieun?” asked Seokjin. “Which boy? Not me, right?”

“No, of course not you, silly. You won’t even tell me your parents’ names. How am I supposed to know when they come to visit?”

“Trust me, they won’t,” Seokjin’s tone left no room for discussion, just a sad or regretful sort of resentment.

“If you say so,” you shrugged off your curiosity, familiar with how closed-off this kid got when it came to his home life before you. “Song Jieun is Taehyung’s mom and Jimin’s stepmom.”

“The coworker who tricked you into adopting them?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“Isn’t that what happened?”

“That’s besides the point,”

“That is the point.”

“What’s what point?” Namjoon shuffled into the kitchen.

“Our guardian is trying to decide if the twins should see their mother.” Seokjin answered.

“That’s not what I said,”

“That’s what you were going to say.”

“Everyone else gets nice, obedient, adoring children,” you grumbled. “I get sassy monsters who boss me around.”

“You raised us like this,” Namjoon said absently.

“I did not, you raised yourselves.”

“Same thing,” both boys speak in unison.

“I’m giving you two away.”

“Good luck living with Yoongi without us,” Seokjin shrugged. “You’ll be begging me to come back by the end of the week.”

“Joke’s on you, this is the end of the week.”

“My point still stands.”

“Okay, I quit, I won’t win this one,” you literally throw your hands in the air.”

“Good,” Jin grins at you in that cheeky way he’s mastered, taunting you.

“So what’s this about the twin’s mom though?” asked Namjoon. “I thought she…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was saying, or rather, what he didn’t want to say. I thought she didn’t want them.

“Yes and no,” you say. “She just… it’s… not exactly complicated, not if I were in her position, but… let’s just say, some people are stupid and not everyone has the same priorities.”

“Song Jieun chose to make herself happy over taking care of her kids?” Seokjin translated. “She didn’t want to take them to live with her new husband?”

“More or less,” You agree, taking note of the bitterness in his tone.

“You’re not allowed to get married,” Namjoon mumbled from the table.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not allowed to leave us or get rid of us because you want to be married,” Namjoon repeated. He’s obviously still half asleep from the way he lays his head down in his arms, but your heart clenches just a little bit from the casual desperation he speaks with.

“If I were to get married,” you said, “my future spouse would know that they come in eighth place anyway. I’m not getting rid of you, even your original parents would have to fight me. God will have to fight me.”

“But you’re still not allowed,” said Namjoon.

“Drink your tea, you’re talking crazy,” said Seokjin. “Our guardian will have to actually date first, and we all know that won’t happen.”

“The disrespect, I tell you!”

It’s after breakfast and during the chaos of getting seven young boys dressed and prepared for school when Seokjin knocks on your bedroom door frame, wearing an anxious expression.

“... Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s up?” you asked. Seokjin walked fully into the room and closed the door.

“About… the twins? I… I don’t know what you’re thinking about, and that’s valid, but… I think you should maybe let them see her?” Seokjin didn’t fidget like the rest of the kids did. He leaned against the door, arms crossed and focused his eyes fully on you. It was moments like these when you realized exactly how mature your eldest was, and you recognized that most of it wasn’t because of you. Namjoon and Yoongi were you. Seokjin had probably been raising himself for longer than he’s lived with you.

“Okay,” you said.

“I just… if it was me, I would want to know that she still cared, right? And she does, I guess. You mentioned that she sends them money, and she wrote you a letter asking forgiveness, so that has to mean something. I just don’t want them feeling abandoned like the rest of us. Not if they don’t have to.”

“I’m just worried that it will confuse them even more,” you admitted. “It took weeks before Jimin would talk to us openly. Jieun-ssi isn’t going to stay. She’ll come for an afternoon or a day, take the kids out, spoil them, and then bring them back here, and they’ll both be wondering why. And I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“With the truth, obviously,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “You’re always straight-forward with us. Why should this be any different?” Because they’re younger than you were. Because they were given away, not abandoned. Because their parent still cares from a distance. Because I don’t like making you all cry. Because picking up pieces has never been fun.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said instead. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Seokjin nodded, and you can see him visibly deflate, relieved to be finished with the conversation. “That’s all I wanted to say. Don’t forget to take your lunch with you.”

“Make sure all the kids have theirs,” you countered.

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t already do that,”

“I love you, Kim Seokjin,” was your response.

“I love you too, I guess.”

=======

Your talk with Seokjin gave you a new perspective, but you still felt apprehensive about everything. You just didn’t like the idea of hurting Jimin and Taehyung any more than they already have been. What type of guardian would you be if you just let them walk back into heartbreak? What if this was just a one-time visit and Song Jieun never came to see her children again? What do you do when the boys ask to see her again? You had been lucky that you only had to have one conversation about not being able to take the boys to see their mother in the last six months, but if Jieun could make the time and the trip to come visit, then what will be your excuse now? What if this visit was actually a prelude to taking the boys back home with her?

Oh.

Huh.

So that was the real problem then. You didn’t want the boys to leave you. As much as you groaned and complained about taking in so many kids -- usually just to yourself, but sometimes your stress got the better of you in front of the kids -- you loved them. Each one of them, you loved and adored them and the thought of any of them leaving you or being taken away hurt. Not only that, but where in the hell would any of those parents get off, what right did any of them have to come to you and even fix their mouths to ask you for “their” kid back? You had words prepared for each and every so-called “parent” of all seven of your boys, copies of your lost child police reports, drafts of parental rights transfer papers, the phone number for several NCPA lawyers, and a fist just itching to make contact.

But what if Taehyung and Jimin preferred to be with Jieun anyway? She is their mother. She raised them for years, even if she was Jimin’s stepmother. You’ve only had the “twins” as you and the older boys had taken to calling them, for six months. Why would they want to stay with you?

“Okay, but she didn’t say she wants to take the kids,” you told yourself against the slew of depressing thoughts. You retrieved your phone from your pocket and opened your emails. Finally pressed reply. “She just wants to visit. A visit is… safe. It’ll be okay.”

Probably.

=======

Later that day you received a new email. Song Jieun will be in town that weekend. Tomorrow.

It took a lot of effort for you not to swear and make plans to take the kids out of town.

=======

Song Jieun was pretty. She wasn’t particularly tall or “skinny” like what TV liked to portray, but she was hippy and had a cute face and short hair that she curled most days. She favored dresses with blazers or oversized sweaters and skinny jeans, with pale makeup and dark pink lipsticks. It was easy to pick her out at the cafe she asked to meet at. She sat alone off to the side, a coffee already in front of her, but two plates with fruit-decorated cakes were also placed nearby. You considered telling her that the boys weren’t allowed any sweets right now. It wouldn’t have been a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. They weren’t allowed sweet things like cakes until after dinner and only when they behaved well. Still, you decided that was just your frustration and jealousy talking. You didn’t want to punish the two boys because of their mother, so you bite your tongue and hold your bitterness and let it go.

“Jieun-ssi,” you greet uselessly, as the moment Taehyung and JImin saw her they sprinted across the room to tackle the woman in hugs. Jieun’s smile stretched across her face and she cooed and made cute noises as she greeted her sons in return. You felt something creep in your chest that felt a lot like jealousy. But you weren’t jealous. You couldn’t be. You just hugged them this morning when they tried to tickle you awake. You held both of their hands from your house to the cafe. You had nothing to be jealous of, they were your kids now.

“How have you been?” Jieun asked when you sat down across from her. Jimin and Taehyung were already seated and digging into the cakes she bought for them. You barely had a chance to answer before your chatterbox was rattling off every activity he’s done for the last six months to his mother. Jimin grinned and threw in his two-cent’s worth every few minutes, but generally let Taehyung carry the conversation for him. And you, in spite of all of the emotions pressing on your chest and clouding your judgement and making you really, really want to shake Song Jieun, you enjoy yourself. You watch your boys -- your boys -- smile and chatter and sing and show off for their mother. You wonder if they’ll be okay going home, if you’ll have tears to clean up later, or arguments to break up, or just pieces to sort out and glue, but right now the kids are happy, and right now, that’s what you’ll enjoy.

=======

Taehyung climbed into your bed that night. He should have been asleep an hour ago at least, you’re sure, but he’s seemed to have a lot on his mind since this afternoon, and you’ve been letting the kid have his own space to figure out his thoughts. As hyper as he normally is, Taehyung is also prone to moments where he just sits and fiddles and thinks and you’ve learned that it doesn’t do any good to bother him about it.

“Can’t sleep?” Taehyung shook his head as he slid across the blankets to bury his face into your shirt. You curled an arm around his shoulders and held him close.

“Mommy…” Taehyung started and trailed off. “Is Mommy happy without me?”

It felt like your heart stopped with the words of his question, but you continued to brush his hair with your fingers. It was a difficult question to answer. You wanted to be honest, but you also didn’t want to hurt him. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many ways to answer without hurting Taehyung one way or another.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung was quiet for another short moment before he spoke again.

“Mommy… didn’t seem sad. And she said she’ll see us another time. And… she got married, but she didn’t want to keep me and Jiminie… So I started wondering… is she happy now? Happier than she was before when it was just me and her and Jiminie? Did we -- I don’t think -- I --” And the kid seemed to break then, all of the tears that hadn’t been shed for six months seeming to finally culminate into an emotional outburst. You shushed him, holding him just a little more tightly, and the fingers in his hair moved down to stroke his back. This was the thing you had wanted to avoid, and while part of you felt satisfied to be right, most of you just fought your own tears. It hurt to see one of your kids so hurt. You aren’t a stranger to crying children, but this emotional distress was something that never got better. You thought that maybe Jieun had talked to the boys beforehand, maybe Taehyung had dealt with his emotions before he came to live with you and that was why he seemed so well-adjusted. Clearly, Taehyung had just been living in denial, or maybe with the belief that his mother would come back for him “later,” that you were only a temporary home.

“This isn’t your fault, Taetae,” you murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes… sometimes adults make hard decisions. We think we’re doing the right thing and… sometimes it’s hard to see if we’ve made the right choice or not.” You sighed, picking through your words super carefully. “I think… I think that your mother made what she thought was the best decision for both herself and for you and Jimin. She believed she would be happy with her new husband. But she did not believe you and Jiminie would be happy. So she put you somewhere that you could be. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I’m still sad,” Taehyung cried harder.

“I know,” you said, “and that’s okay. I would be sad too.”

“I just want my mommy back,”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to get married,” Taehyung said suddenly, long after his sobs had calmed down. Tears still fell, but slowly now. “I don’t want you to send me away too.”

“If you listen to your Jinnie-hyung, he says that won’t happen because I don’t date anyway.”

“Mommy didn’t date for a long time… and then she did. And then she got married.”

“I won’t get rid of you even if I did get married, Taetae,” you told him.

“You’re still not allowed to get married,” he argued. “Or date. You have to be mine forever and ever, okay?”

“No matter what, I will be yours forever and ever,” you agreed.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Taehyung asked. “I'm comfy and you make me not sad.”

“Of course,” you said. “You’re comfy like a teddy bear, I don’t want you to go.”

=======

In the morning, Taehyung was bouncing off the walls, screaming as he chased Jungkook around the house. Jimin was curled into a corner of the sofa, giggling while he watched his brothers play and encouraging Taehyung in his antics. You could hardly tell that Taehyung had an emotional breakdown the previous night. You knew he was far from being “over” his feelings about his mother, he was only eight and the feelings were complicated. But he was happy for now and that made you happy. You’ll deal with the noise and the chaos and shout at the kids yet again about running inside where things were breakable including themselves as long as they kept smiling.

Surprisingly, it was Namjoon who came knocking at your door after bedtime that night. Similar to Taehyung, he didn’t speak or ask permission, just closed the door behind him and slid into your bed. Buried himself beneath the blankets and stuck his head beneath the pillow and tucked his gangly limbs into a ball. You were familiar with these moods, but haven’t seen one in years, not since you took in Seokjin. So you finished the chapter you had been reading, turned off the light, and sank down to lay your head on your pillows. Similar to Taehyung, Namjoon would speak when he was ready, when he found the right words to use to express his feelings.

“You really won’t get married, right?” Namjoon whispered beneath the pillow next to you. His voice was heavily muffled, but you’d been waiting for him to speak for some time. You just didn’t expect for him to continue a joke conversation from several days ago.

“What’s wrong with me getting married?” you asked.

“If you get married, you’ll have to get rid of us.”

“There is no world where I will give up any of you just to get married, Namjoon.”

“But that’s what happens, isn’t it?” said Namjoon. “Adults… if they aren’t married, but they have kids… they get rid of them so that they can date. Because kids get in the way. Because it’s stupid to take care of other people’s kids.”

“Why does it sound like you just called me stupid?” Your sarcasm probably wasn’t appropriate for the moment, but the words slipped before you thought about it.

“We’re really lucky to have you, we know that,” said Namjoon. “But that just means --”

“Namjoon, I’m going to stop you right there,” you cut him off before he finishes. You remove the pillow from his face so that he can hear you clearly, and card your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t create any of you. I didn’t ask for any of you. But I have you. And I love you. I adore you. I will tear apart skies, drain oceans, and vanquish God if it will keep you all safe and happy, okay? If your parents ever come back for you, I will press charges against them and make it so that they can never look at you, let alone hurt you ever again, do you understand me, Kim Namjoon? You and Yoongi and Jungkook and Seokjin and Hoseok and Taehyung and Jimin, you’re all mine. You’re my kids, all seven of you, and I will be damned if any lover or spouse, or anything at all, comes between me and you. I don’t say that because it sounds good -- although seriously, you have to admit that this is one of my better speeches,” -- at that, Namjoon giggled, the noise muted and soft, but a win was a win -- “but I say these things because I mean them. I will put a brick in the hospital for you, Joonie.” You hesitate, but continue anyway. “If it weren’t for you, I may have left the country at the end of that year. Teaching is fun, but I wasn’t super happy before. But then you asked me to take you home and you were so cute that I got attached almost immediately. I didn’t want to take you to the police and have them send you to your parents. I liked having someone to come home to. I liked taking care of you. Most people go get a pet or a lover when they’re feeling lonely, but here’s me, collecting kids like you’re pokemon cards.”

“No one collects pokemon cards anymore,”

“What, is Yu-Gi-Oh back in style?”

“What even is that?”

“The coolest card game ever. Period.” Namjoon laughs again, and you feel accomplished.

“It’s not that cool if I’ve never heard of it,” Namjoon argues.

“Joonie. I love you. But even I know you aren’t the coolest among your classmates.”

“I’m the coolest out of all my friends!”

“I won’t argue about that. I’m also sure that in your group of friends, ‘coolest’ means ‘knows the biggest words and has the best grades.’”

“You’re just jealous,”

“Absolutely. I wish I knew as many words as you do. Imagine how much fun I’d have fussing at you kids in Smart People language!”

“Why are you like this?”

“Please, other kids wish they had someone as cool as me taking care of them.”

Namjoon cuddled closer to you in the bed, laying his head on your shoulder and gripping your pajama shirt. You spend a few minutes massaging his scalp, a soothing gesture for you just as much as it is for him. After a few minutes, you begin drifting off, believing Namjoon is on the verge of sleep as well.

“Are you really okay?” he asks. “With taking care of all of us? You don’t… want to go back home?”

“I am home, silly,” you flick the side of his head gently. “I love you. And even if I wanted to go back to my home country, don’t think I won’t take each one of you with me. I said you’re mine. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

And it’s not that you don’t believe him, but you know your kid. You know he internalizes things and finds convoluted ways to take blame for other peoples’ problems, including your own. You know it will be a while yet before he truly accepts and believes you when you say you want to keep him and enjoy taking care of him. But you also know that he wants to believe you and he’s trying. You idly wonder if you’ll have to have some sort of discussion in the morning, an announcement over breakfast that no children will be displaced in the event of an unlikely wedding. You dismiss the thought, deciding it was more likely to incite panic and give you a headache more than anything else.

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

[ithehellisbucky]

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

~

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

Requests are open!

Prompt List

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

[earthlyyan]

Organic Antidepressants

(Slight Yandere Ferid Bathory x Suicidal Reader) originally posted on my AO3

Warnings: Ferid being touchy, suicidal depression, intrusive thoughts. Reader is of legal age

first person pov (ew)

(Originally Posted on AO3 On 1-9-2020)

The days were far longer than they were before… at least it felt that way.

I knew I should’ve died that day. I wish I had died that day. The day the trumpets of the apocalypse decided to ring gloriously over our god forsaken planet.

Anyone younger than thirteen? What a fucking joke.

The cot stuffed with hay was one of the few things that brought me comfort in the day to day. The odd number of children allowed for me to be alone. I liked it that way. More me time. And the most I wanted to do was return to it. But instead, my feet dragged down the busy streets, making my way to the blood bank.

On my way though, I could hear the guards making excuses to their superiors. Apparently three humans on the register were found dead in their terf. 

“They committed suicide. You know how they get when they’re cooped up. I didn’t touch them, honest.”

 “They got sick. Died of their illness I guess.”

Bastards took them for themselves. Everyone knew it. But were they going to confront them? They weren’t protected. The vamps just thought they could get away with it.

“Hey we have enough. Three won’t make a dent.”

Not even caring that those children had futures. Well, would’ve had futures. Those were stripped away as quick as the adults were.

I wanted to be happy. We all did.

But in this place? Laughable. You had a better chance of being an astronaut. Well… maybe not. But it sure felt that way.

You know how to be happy right?

 “First and Last name?”

I answered.

“First open table.”

No matter how many times I’ve done this already, the dread won’t leave. The feeling of their eyes. I could see the barely restrained hunger. If anyone was left alone, they’d take a bag for the rations and the kid for themselves.   

You could ask the vamp to take extra.

I shuddered and plopped myself on the medical bed. “Good morning.”

An unamused grunt was my reply. I was the scum of the earth not worth talking to, apparently.

He’s right, isn’t he?

The needle was quick. He hadn’t even bothered to give a warning. It was a pinch, a wave of nausea, and then it was over. He tossed the pouch of their nasty sustenance formula in my hands and pointed to the door.

“Thanks.” I walked out and threw myself on the floor beside the benches. I opened my disgusting capri-sun wannabe and began to suck on it. I cringed at the taste.

There were two boys on the stairs. One obviously more displeased about the situation than the other. He crinkled the full bag and threw it across the clearing. If I had the balls and the same cripplingly low amount of braincells as he did, I would probably do the same.

The other boy, far more mature than the other, stood up after chugging his to throw his pouch away. He seemed to be taking the situation much better than the other. He had beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes. If he wasn’t in this hell hole, he could’ve been a child model.

The thought made me sad. What could’ve been. I could’ve been somebody.

Maybe you’ll get a fresh start in the next life.

 Apparently, I had zoned out far longer than I thought because the next thing I knew, a fight had broken out.

 If you could call a young boy threatened to be chucked off the ledge a fight anyway. He was soon thrown to the side with enough force to send him reeling.

 A well-dressed vampire walked with purpose down the stairs. Shoulders back, chin up. He seemed regal.

He certainly looked like royalty.

“Lord Ferid!” The little blonde boy ran up to him. The two seemed close enough, which sent my mind reeling.

How does a kid get that close with a nobleman like him? They seem friendly.

“Ah~ Mika!” The noble -presumably named Ferid- gave him a kind smile. “What on earth seems to be the matter?”

He talked like royalty too.

I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes of banter, the noble took his hand from the blonde’s face and sent him on his way. He had said something about meeting at his mansion. I brought myself up from the floor and chased after the blonde.

*

Two days after the talk with Mika, I stood at the noble’s door.

“If you give your blood, he’ll give you anything you want!”

I rose an eyebrow. “Really? Anything?”

Mika nodded proudly. “Yup! Though he’s busy tonight. But the day after I’d try it.”

Maybe he can take the pain away.

 I took a few controlled breaths. This screamed danger. It’s a vampire. They kill people

Why are you so scared? It’s not like your life could get worse.

I knocked on his door.

It swung open, seemingly on its own accord. The motion invited me in. Once I was past the threshold, I gently closed the door and looked inside.

There he sat, lounging on a tasteful white couch with gold accented frames. In the dim candlelight he almost resembled an angel.

An angel of death, perhaps?

He looked up from his book and turned his attention towards me. My body froze. I felt my self-confidence leave. Not like I had much left anyway.

He called my name, somehow. Mika must’ve told him or something. Though, something nagged at me. I don’t remember telling Mika my name. Mika hadn’t even told me his. It was all overheard. Then how?

“Come, sit.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch.

 I sat down on the chair across from him instead.

“Over here, my dear.” He patted the spot next to him louder, trying to coax me over like I were an animal.

Though, that’s probably how he saw my species anyway, isn’t it?

“My dearest Mika had told me about your visit a few nights ago. I wouldn’t have thought he would’ve told anyone about the little arrangement I have going on here, but I’m not complaining.” He sighed, seemingly content. “I wasn’t expecting someone of your age to be here, how are you still here? You have me curious.”

“If I’m honest, milord, I don’t quite know.” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. But the calculating feeling of his gaze made it harder. “Luck? Possibly?”

“Luck?” He leaned back and turned himself towards me. “Is it truly luck?”

“With all due respect, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You know what he means, and you know he’s right.

He smiled at me, not meeting my eyes. Ah. Okay.

“So, what are you hoping to get out of this?” He scooted closer. “As much as I’d like to think you’re here out of the kindness of your heart, we both know that isn’t the case, now is it?”

I nodded; heat crept its way up my face. “Yeah, but I suppose that doesn’t make me irregular.” I grumbled. “But I suppose that also makes me boring doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “That entirely depends on you, my dear.”

I tugged at my uniform and cleared my throat. “Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

“Back to the topic at hand, yes?” He smiled and placed a gloved hand on my shoulder.

I suppressed a shudder. “Right. I guess I should cut to the chase.” I finally had the courage to look into his eyes.

Those damn eyes, despite the almost ravenous look in them, I couldn’t help but find them entrancing. Like shiny rubies in where his irises should be. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

“Antidepressants.”

And I would’ve never thought his grin could get bigger. “Antidepressants? Now that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

In a place like this? Really? “I’m sure you would’ve heard everything by now.”

“And I thought I would’ve heard it all by now too. But I suppose not.” He ran his hand down my back

I gingerly grabbed his hand and put it back on his lap. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“No~ Don’t apologize. It’s quite alright.” He folded his hands in his lap, he smiled at me. “If I were in a situation like yours, I don’t think I’d want to be touched either.”

My gaze fell. “Right. A situation like mine.” I slapped my cheeks gently to liven myself up. “Back to the deal though.”

“Actually, before we continue, what do you need them for? Medicine isn’t allowed down here unless regulated, considering how it effects the blood. Someone as old as you should know that.”

“Yeah, but why else would someone need antidepressants?”

He stared at me. His expression left no room for argument. He wanted an answer. His lips tugged into a smile. A kind looking one, but it left something unsaid.

“Why do you really need them?”

It’s not like you have anything else to lose, right? Tell him. You’ll feel better. He can make you better.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, leaning back onto the couch. “Look, how old do you think I am?”

“Too old to be here at this age, certainly.” He shrugged and made himself comfortable next to me. Close enough to grab me, but far enough not to invade my personal bubble.

“And why do you think that is?” I looked to the wall, hoping to find a distraction to focus on anything else but how close he was. But found nothing but pristine white.

“This world’s god is cruel.” He said. “It seemed they chose to bless you instead of damning you to the fate of your elders.”

I laughed. “Bless me?” I ran my hands faster through my hair, tugging at the ends to ground me. “What kind of blessing is this? I’m stuck down here to live until old age, vitamin deficiency or illness takes me? I’d rather be with my friends and family.”

You could join them. There’s plenty of spaces to do so. You could fly like an angel.

“You could always make your situation better.” His voice softened.

“That’s why I’m here.” I took my hands from my hair and began to fiddle with my identification tag. “I thought if I struck a deal with you, I’d get the opportunity to make things better. To make things as they should be.”

“But if you were to make things as they should be, then I know the real reason you want those pills, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that I—” I felt my throat close. Tears stung the back of my eyes, I fought desperately to bite them back.

This didn’t go unnoticed.

“You did, and it’s okay.” His hand made its way to my hair. I couldn’t find the strength to fight him. It’s not like he was going to harm me if he wanted this deal to work. “You know your very existence is a burden to you. And you want to fix it. You humans were always so independent.” He whispered. He paused to take off his glove and used his sharp nails to comb my hair. “But you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?”

 “Nobody would give me help. They wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care. I’d rather just…” I swallowed hard.

“End it? Now don’t be ridiculous.” He placed my head on his shoulder, presumably for easier access. “What if there truly isn’t a happy end if you end it? You’d lament not fixing it while you could. And suicide isn’t beneficial to anyone, little lamb.” His hand reached to touch my face. Despite his hands being cold, something inside me warmed.

This can’t be right. It isn’t right. He’s a vampire he’s just like the rest of them—

But he cares.

No. He doesn’t he just wants me to think he does.

But what if he truly does care?

“Why are you even trying to talk me down? Wouldn’t it be better for you to just give me the pills and then you get a drink?” It’s not like I didn’t have a plan B if he said no.

“How selfish do you think I am? I’m wounded.” He pulled my head onto his lap, his hands playing with tufts and braiding the longer pieces. “Who would want someone else to take their life for the sake of a meal?”

I averted my eyes. I sounded like a dick now. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. That seems to be a nasty habit that you’ll have to break.” He said. “And I have an idea that could be beneficial to both of us in the long term, if you’re interested.” His hand moved my head to look up. I could see his furrowed brow and soft smile. I felt the remaining fears I had slowly dissipate.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay with me. I think I would miss you if you were gone.”

“You… You would?”

“Of course, I would. You’re full of untapped potential. And I think I could help ease those pains preventing them from coming to fruition.” He smiled. “All you have to do is say yes~.”

I slowly sat up, taking in his words.

He could make you feel wanted. You didn’t need to run anymore.

“I…”

You could have someone take care of you and like you for you, isn’t that all you’ve wanted? Someone who knows how to make things better? Someone who can save you?

“I think… I would like that.”

His smile reached his eyes. “As would I, my dear.” He hoisted me onto his lap. “Now, to seal the deal.” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of my uniform and removed my identification collar. “Have you ever been bitten directly?”

I shook my head.

“Now don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. Like a pinprick.” He gave my nose a small bop. “Like a more organic needle. Just, try not to squirm too much. I don’t want to accidentally rip your internal carotid, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that either.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay…” I tried to calm my nerves. “okay I can do this.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me to his chest. “On the count of three, alright?”

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease my nerves. “Alright…”

“One…”

I felt his warm breath on my neck, making me tense.

He rubbed my head with his free hand. “Two…”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Three.”

It was much more painful than he had said. It felt like two spears digging perpendicularly into my skin. Slow and agonizing. I gripped his coat tightly. His hands continued to attempt to soothe me.

“Shhh~ The pain won’t last much longer.” He cooed. I could feel his lips moving on my skin at he talked.

The pain didn’t go away, but something arose within. The area where his fangs pierced me grew numb. I could still feel his fangs in my skin, its presence foreign. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt like warmth and welcome, if those feelings could resonate inside. My mind grew foggier. Pleasantly ignorant. I couldn’t hear anything else but the faint slurping and my own heartbeat. It was nice. I felt my eyes roll back and my body grow weaker. I gave Ferid’s coat a fatigued tug.

He pulled away slowly, and I whined at the loss. I slumped against his shoulder, the last of my remaining strength left along with his fangs.

His hand moved from the back of my head to my shoulders. He stood up with me in his arms. My eyes fought to stay open. I saw the faint image of Ferid’s face with a small stream of blood falling from his lips.

The light from the candle illuminated the space behind him, bathing him in a heavenly glow. He seemed a little livelier than before, too.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I tried to get a word out, but it came out a strangled whimper.

He smiled and shook his head, tutting softly. “I think I took too much, don’t you?” He walked down the hall with my limp body in his arms.

Ferid arrived in a large bedroom and placed me neatly under the covers and tucked me in. He sat next to me on my left side. He brushed a few stray hairs from my face and gave me a small kiss on the forehead.

“I do believe you need your rest. I’ll be back when you wake, my dear. I promise.” His hand moved from my forehead to my cheek as he gave it one final caress.

In my failing consciousness, I heard a gentle laugh

“Sleep well my lamb you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll never feel empty again.”

And in the enveloping darkness, I saw him smirk.

[fantasia-monogram]

Seven to twelve

♥️ Inseong x female reader (female anatomy); mentions of other SF9 members.

♥️  This is set in the As the clock strikes midnight universe, right after the epilogue! Read it before this one to get the context.

♥️ Smut (2.7k words); y/n is a professional Domme. Inseong is a bisexual sub. Mommy kink, degradation, spanking. Mentions of other BDSM practices.

♥️ Quality Department leader Kim Inseong has two secrets: first is his love for kink, second is a massive crush on a hot guy from HR department. Every Thursday, a trusted Domme helps him deal with frustration keeping those secrets causes.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

As you stepped back into the dungeon, you admired the transformation the room had undergone while you were taking a shower. Your previous customer made a huge mess (still, not even comparable to the mess you've made of him). You weren't the best at cleaning - you've had other talents that got you through life, after all - so you couldn't help but be amazed at the work the cleaning staff did in such a short time. 

Gone were the wet stains on the floor, and a soiled rug had been replaced for a fresh, fluffy one. All the scary torture equipment was hidden behind partition that would automatically slide out of the nearest wall by a press of a button. Antique leather chair was switched to a cozy looking armchair with blankets laid out on the floor next to it. The mood of the otherwise pretty sterile space was warmed up thanks to pink tinted lighting. 

All of those were a tell-tale sign who your next customer would be. 

You opened the wardrobe and took a black satin-and-lace bodysuit out of it. Your usual tight corset and leather boots wouldn't be needed this time. After you put the garment on, you opted for classic shiny stilettos, and topped the outfit with a short flowy dressing gown.

Just to be sure everything was in place, you checked yourself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door: the look was a blend of a retro housewife and a pin-up girl, complete with vintage style lingerie, aggressive eyeliner and red lipstick. Just as he liked it. 

There were only minutes left to the appointment, so you stroke a couple more poses to see the outfit in different angles. Perfect. You crossed the floor in a few elegant strides, to finally take a seat on the armchair in the middle of the spacious room. 

You had a pretty chill end of the workday ahead of you. 

A soft, somewhat cautious knock on the door broke the silence. 

"Come in." 

There he was, entering hesitantly, and closing the door behind him in an awkward manner. Inseong - you had no interest in your customers' last names, it was something only the administration ladies kept for business purposes - was a tall, very tall man with broad shoulders, lanky limbs and a bit of a tummy; his face, though, was that of a teenage boy, with barely any wrinkles and nervous expression. From what he told you, he was some kind of a supervisor or a boss or something in the field of corporate banking. At that moment, however, with his black bangs covering his forehead, he was stripped out of all titles he might have held as a higher up.

Honestly, he looked pretty cute in a set of pink fleece pajamas with a print consisting of little yellow chicks. 

He stood there, big eyes looking at you anxiously. You knew he was waiting for your sign - his wish was to experience your different moods, so you always kept him uncertain for a bit. It was more fun this way. 

That night you decided to play nice, at least for a while. You put on your warmest smile, spreading your arms. 

"Come on, baby, come to Mommy!" 

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. He rushed from his place. In seconds, he sank onto his knees inbetween your spread legs. You sneaked your arms around his neck and harshly pulled him forward, only to let him plant his face right into your breasts. 

Right, he had a thing for boobs. And muscular body types. That's why he chose to pay for your services in the first place.

He stayed like this for a good minute or two, occasionally rubbing his face against your soft flesh. You kept gently patting his head this entire time, until you decided that was enough and yanked him away by a handful of hair. 

"Why don't you tell Mommy about your day, baby?" You cooed, still gripping his hair tightly. His eyes, looking even bigger, were all fired up already.

He was so easy to figure out. 

"Y-yes… Yes, Mommy, I will," he stuttered. You let go of him, so he could sink back to the floor and lie his head on your lap. 

You got back to combing your fingers through his black strands, just to keep the variety.

"There is this guy in the company…" Inseong started, his voice a bit hushed. "In another department. He's dreamy. But I don't think he's interested in me. I don't think he's interested in guys at all. Or at least in pathetic guys like me." 

You uttered a soft mhmm to encourage him. Oh, so he came in to release the frustration. You already had a plan on how to help him with that, but that required waiting for a good moment to start the actual scene. 

"I can't believe anybody would be able to resist my pretty baby," you sighed, staying in character. 

"Thank you, Mommy…" Inseong replied shyly; he knew how to behave, or rather, how to reply to your compliments. "Actually, he spends so much time with that… I can never remember her name… She's a monster. Five and barely a half feet of a goddamn monster. I've heard they want to promote her to a leadership position soon. And she's so old! I can't believe Jaeyoonie is into older women."

Your eyes went wide at the name. No way. Glad Inseong couldn't see your face right now, you quickly calmed yourself down.

"Some guys are into milfs, you know that, right, baby?" You snorted. The things you had to do just to pace the appointment right… 

"She's not a milf! She's only a year or two older than me," Inseong explained. 

Come to think of it, you had no idea how old he was, and it was hard to tell by his looks only. 

"Anyway, I'm sure he's fucking her. Or that awkward skinny boy always hanging out with them." Inseong started to sound pissed off at this point. "Now that I think of it, he could easily take them both! And that would mean he's into older women and younger guys. I don't fit into any of those demographics. What a nightmare."

"You never know," you concluded, although internally you were getting more and more suspicious of Jaeyoonie's identity. 

"But there's more…" Inseong's voice broke at the last word. "There was a company party earlier that week… I drank too much and he saw me throwing up in the bathroom… I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that…" 

That was the moment you were waiting for. You stopped your caresses immediately. 

"Wait a minute. When was that party, exactly?" 

You could feel Inseong tense up under your hand. 

"Wednesday night…" He mumbled. 

"Is that why you rescheduled from Thursday to Friday?" 

You gripped his shirt at the back of his neck. 

"Yes, Mommy… I was so hungover… I wouldn't be able to play with you…" Inseong started stumbling over his words. You slid your hand up, grasped a fistful of hair and pulled it back so he could face you in a very uncomfortable position. 

The panic that flashed through Inseong's eyes gave you a solid rush of adrenaline.

"Good boys don't drink more than they could handle," you stated in a dead serious tone. 

"B-but…" Inseong stuttered, "I have low tolerance. And everyone else was drinking…" 

You tightened the grip on his hair, eliciting a strangled whine out of him. 

"Then you shouldn't have drunk at all, you silly baby." You slowly stood up from your seat, dragging Inseong up on his knees, followed by a litany of pained whimpers. "You made Mommy sad. I've been waiting for you the entire day."

"Oh, no… I'm so sorry, Mommy…" Inseong babbled, on the verge of crying. 

Not wanting to overdo it with his emotions just yet, you let go of his hair. He barely managed to feel relief, when you forcibly grabbed his chin.

"You're Mommy's favorite boy, but you need to learn your lesson" you concluded, staring straight into his panicked eyes. "What should I do with you now?" 

Inseong went silent, nothing but anticipation pictured on his face.

"Oh, you look way too eager," you said, loosening the grip on Inseong's chin, "Go to the corner, hands on the wall." 

"No, please!" Inseong cried out, although you knew very well he was just playing along. "Not the corner!" 

"Should I make you go there on your fours?" 

The guy mumbled a barely audible I'm sorry and obediently walked to the nearest wall. He took the usual position: propped on his hands, head hanging low, his broad back facing you - obviously, with the round butt presented to you in a shameful way. 

To keep him waiting, you first took in the sight, unable to hold back a smirk. You knew soon he would be absolutely wrecked, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shining with tears.

Saying you loved your job would be an understatement. 

Satisfied, you approached him, clicking of your heels the only sound in the room.

"I guess I have to spank you." 

Inseong's head jerked up a little. 

"I'm going to do this through your pants, though, and I'm going to use my bare hand only."

Inseong whined, head leaning down to previous position. 

"One more complaint and I'm going to shove a plug into your hole and make you stand here for the rest of the night." 

"I'm sorry!" He apologized frantically.

It's not like you haven't done that punishment before - you smiled at the memory of him coming untouched - but he really seemed desperate for some action this time. 

You came closer and hovered your hand over the perfect curve of Inseong's butt. He trembled under your touch. So, so desperate. 

"It's gonna be thirty, because that's how many hours I had to wait between the time you rescheduled to this meeting," you announced, causing Inseong to whimper quietly.

"Can I count?" He asked shyly. 

"You're dumb enough to not know your limits, I think counting to thirty would be too much to ask." 

With that, you landed the first slap. 

You observed Inseong for a couple seconds before continuing. He didn't make a sound, but his arms shook, long fingers folding into fists against the wall. You wondered if he would even last the whole session.

Your predictions would soon turn out to be true: he started whimpering after each hit as soon as you landed the third one. When you approached the tenth, the whimpers turned into screams. Once you passed the first half, all he could do was to moan uncontrollably, his legs shaking so much you were wondering how could he even stand up at that point. 

He didn't use the safe word, not even a single word of protest escaped his mouth either, so you knew it was fine to continue. He was so close to breaking. You absolutely adored the feeling of this moment approaching.

Finally, as you were raising your hand to slap Inseong's ass for the twenty seventh time, his knees gave up. The guy sunk down to the floor, still leaning against the wall. That turned out to be too much for him, though - ultimately, he slid his hands down, too.

You looked at him intently: Inseong, resting on all fours, kept trembling, his breathing so loud you could hear it from above. What an absolute mess. You were so amused you decided to end the session on a sweet note; however, your understanding of sweet was very... specific. 

"What's that, baby? You can't take it anymore?" You cooed, approaching closer. Your shin brushed against his buttcheek.

"Mommy… I…" Inseong panted, visibly struggling to form a complete sentence. "Can I touch myself? I can't take it anymore…" 

You almost laughed at how pained his tone was. Led by curiosity, you kneeled right behind him and leaned to take a close look: indeed, he was tenting in his cute pajama pants. Pathetic.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," you mused. "I don't think you've earned the permission to touch yourself."

"Mommy, please, it hurts," Inseong pleaded. He regained the ability to speak, but his voice started breaking. 

"I want you to come, but I also want you to embarrass yourself even more, since you couldn't take your spanking like a good boy," you wondered aloud in an amused tone, "What should I do?" 

You knew exactly, but hearing Inseong hold in his breath was worth every second of suspense. 

"Anything… I'll do anything…"

Hearing that, you came to conclusion you've had enough of toying with him. You reached to ruffle his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat.

"Dumb kittens like you don't deserve to be touched directly." 

You lodged your thigh inbetween his legs, making him moan loudly at the sudden contact. He felt hard and heavy against your skin through the fabric separating you two. 

"Work for it, baby," you commanded. 

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. Disregarding all dignity, he started grinding against your thigh, his thrusts becoming more and more furious with time, until he couldn't hold back grunts escaping his mouth. You could feel his cock getting heavier; years of having to keep your urges to yourself during sessions gave you incredible self control, but Inseong's eagerness was turning you on so much you had to think of something quick. To ground yourself, you grabbed onto his hips, helping him grind even harder. 

He looked so broken, though - with his head low on the floor, resting on his arms, and his ass high up, relying on you completely in his need for pleasure. The sounds coming out of him weren't making it any easier for you either. 

It didn't take him long to finish at this pace. He stilled, arching his back, and came with a delicious, drawn-out moan. You quickly retracted your thigh, as you felt the wetness on his pants coming in contact with your skin. 

You let him come down from his high. Once he was fine enough to sit up, you pulled him into a back hug. He sighed happily, leaning against your cleavage. 

For good measure, you planted a couple kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck, leaving bright lipstick marks all over; he giggled uncontrollably at your affectionate gesture. 

"Thank you, Mommy," Inseong purred, a smile adorning his pretty lips, "My head is so clear now. I feel so much better." 

You wondered how he could sound so innocent with a huge wet spot in the front of his pants, not to mention he probably could barely sit with his butt burning from the spanking. 

"I hope my baby has a good weekend." You kissed his cheek once again, this time letting your lips linger on his skin for a little longer. 

Inseong's legs turned out to be still too wobbly to support him, so you helped him stand up and walked him to the door. 

"You're gonna be fine in the shower?" you asked, a bit worried considering his weak state. 

"I wish Mommy would join me, but I'm a big boy. I'll manage," he assured you. 

To be honest, you wished for the same thing, but business was business, and Inseong was just your customer - no matter how much fun you had ruining him each time.

"Thank you, really. I needed that so much," he said, dropping the character. "See you next week." 

You stared at the door for a while after he left, pretty sure there was something that slipped your mind during the meeting.

At last, it hit you: Jaeyoon, probably matching Inseong's ideal buff type, working a 9-to-5 job in some corporation. Could he be your old acquaintance from the BDSM community you met at a self defense course? You wondered for a while at the possibility.

Opening the wardrobe, you briefly rested your eyes on the clock. Seven to twelve. No time to muse over the past; you hoped those two would get together eventually, because if Inseong was the supervisor Jaeyoon couldn't shut up about all those years ago, then… well, they had some catching up to do. 

[unjourjeseraideretourpresdetoi]

9/10 Chapter 1 - Malt

I started writing a bit of a Harry/Kim fanfic??? Because why the hell not. Anyway, here’s the first part of it. I’m kind of just making it up as I go with a few specific ideas scattered in my head. Spoilers for various plot points. Here’s a sample before the cut. Feel free to send any suggestions or critique, since it’s been ages since I have done much writing. Still working on getting a feel for Harry’s skill voices.

YOU — After a little while, your voice finally returns. “Why are you so nice to me?” KIM KITSURAGI — He takes a long pause and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stubborn too.” PERCEPTION — You turn to look at him as you finally untangle yourself from your chrysalis of arms, and he looks different somehow. You don’t know if it’s your eyes being sore as hell, or the dull ambiance of the hazy bar lights. Somehow, he looks so light. His bomber jacket is slightly pulled up by his folded arms behind his head, seeming to break the bulky illusion it usually projects over his slim torso. Like suddenly seeing a gap in a suit of armor. SUGGESTION — You should tickle him. ESPRIT DE CORPS — He will kill you in mere seconds if you do that.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Hello again, Harry boy. The midnight train to Fuck-All-Borough is boarding once again, and you’ve pre-paid your seat. YOU — Okay. ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — Yes, that’s right. Let’s drive right into the sweet, succulent sopor of oblivion. Let no feelings come to pass, no sensations, just the pure bliss of the radiating void. YOU — But aren’t you here? ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN — That’s just it, Harry. I’m nothing. I am the pale of the mind, I am the deafening silence, I am the black canvas that stretches taut when you close your eyes. I am the swaddle that cradles the mind and the ocean you will drown in. I am born of you and someday, you will die in me. LIMBIC SYSTEM —  But not yet—something still stirs in this weighted sack. Something heavy, and sore, and full of noise that steadily rises into a crescendo.

PERCEPTION — And then you open your eyes. And it fucking hurts. PAIN THRESHOLD — Dear god, it’s like a jackhammer on a pogo stick on another jackhammer. PERCEPTION — You realize there’s a smell you haven’t smelled in a few weeks now that’s uncomfortably emanating from your form. Al Gul. COMPOSURE — Oh. You finally did it again. You fucked up.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — So we got a little smashed. Who cares. You know what’s a great way to stop feeling sorry about it? Getting smashed again. AUTHORITY — No. YOU — Why am I always fucking things up? HALF LIGHT — Because life is terrifying. LOGIC — He’s right about that one.

YOU — What was I doing last night? ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Like I said, getting smashed. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Painting the world with a palette of sugary booze and sad, old rock and roll for sad, old rockstars.

YOU — Who did I hurt this time? DRAMA — Mostly, just yourself. VOLITION — A small miracle, if so. You’re used to self-immolation. YOU — But why? Why now? We were doing better. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speak for yourself. LOGIC — You do know that you can’t just ride out two decades of practiced chemical drowning on a workhorse of piety and guilt, right?

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — This ceaseless dependency on cocktails of narcotics and spirits has weakened you shamefully. PERCEPTION — You look around your dimly lit bedroom, eyes half-closed anyway to quiet the searing pain in your cerebral cortex, slowly putting the pieces back together as the rest of your body wakes up.

YOU — I was having a shitty day. I was stuck on a case and my mind just kept drifting into half-remembered past mistakes. After work, I decided to do it. I called her again, like an idiot. I thought to myself, I can do this, I can let her go, and I’ll tell her I’m finally over it (almost). INLAND EMPIRE — But that is not how it went. She had prepared for the next time you would call. The last time was terrifying enough, torn awake at 3 in the morning, listening to your desperate lies, digging through past trauma. 

YOU — “Hey, uh, Dora. It’s Harry. I’m sorry—“ PERCEPTION — A sharp sigh breaks your concentration. DORA — “Let me stop you there, Harry. Because I’m tired of this. You’ve been doing this six years now but it feels at least twice as long. So since you can’t put an end to it, I am. Don’t call again. You won’t be reaching me at this number anymore.” PERCEPTION — Before you can react, there’s silence. And a dial tone. YOU — Fuck. Fuck shit fuck.

COMPOSURE — You stumble through dialing the number again, fingers slipping the first time from nerves and connecting the second, with no answer. You try again. And again. And then you stop trying. It takes everything in you not to smash the phone where it sits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You need to smash something. If we can’t smash the phone, we HAVE to smash something. REACTION SPEED — Your feet are already taking you away from the pay phone, one thought ahead of the rest of you. You barely round the corner into the alley before you plant your fist full force into the nearest brick wall. PAIN THRESHOLD — Your hand spirals into a fractal of pain, blood dripping down your busted knuckles, slowly running down the dirtied wall. You can feel the cracking of your knuckles, like a brittle lacework of glass strapped down only by the leather of your worn-out hands. HALF-LIGHT — Get out of here. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Now that you’re done smashing your fist, it’s time to get the rest of you smashed. YOU — “Fuck it. I’m getting a drink.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — From there, it was a blaze of sweet, hot fire down your throat and back up again, run ragged from shitty karaoke and mild alcohol poisoning. But the film reel is running thin, and you’re struggling to get anything else from your memory bank.

YOU — How did I get back? I don’t remember walking home. ESPRIT DE CORPS — You asked for help.

HAND-EYE COORDINATION — You pat at your pockets, searching for the right one, not quite remembering what you’re doing but knowing the answer you thought of for a fraction of a second is somewhere in there. After a moment, you find it, carefully tucked away but nevertheless damp with sweat from your slacks.

“If you need to talk— 005-93-88-651 Lt. Kitsuragi”

INTERFACING — Your hands are a bit shaky, but you dial out the number on the slip of paper in your hands. PERCEPTION — It rings once. Twice. A third time. And then you hear the receiver click. KIM KITSURAGI — “Hello?”

SHIVERS — In a small apartment in Central Jamrock, not too far from Precinct 41, and not too far from the Jamrock Public Library, Lieutenant Kitsuragi sits on his bed, some light reading in hand, winding down for the night. His new apartment is still filled with cardboard boxes here and there, in no particular hurry to be unpacked. The lights of the city pierce through like little pinpricks in the glare of his bedside window, still insistent on their presence even in the quiet of a cool spring night.

YOU — “Hi, Kim, I uh…” Your voice shakes and you lose your words for a moment, because some part of you really didn’t expect him to pick up. KIM KITSURAGI — “Detective? It’s after midnight.” DRAMA — It’s already that late? You must’ve woken him up. A bad start. YOU — “Uhh… sorry, I uh. Wasn’t looking at the clock. We can just talk tomorrow—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “You’re drunk.” COMPOSURE — Fuck. There’s nothing coming out of your mouth anymore. Another bad phone call. It takes everything in you not to cry. You do anyway.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Where are you?” YOU — You manage to croak out enough to say “Sunshine’s Hideaway. Bar on 12th street.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses a moment, thinking. “...I’ll be there in a few minutes.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He’s thinking about the best route there. LOGIC — He doesn’t have his motor carriage right now. He’s going to have to walk it, and it’s cold out. YOU — “I… you don’t have to do that, I’ll just—“ KIM KITSURAGI — “Harrier, just shut up and park your ass somewhere warm until I get there.” AUTHORITY — He’s doing it! He’s doing the eyebrow thing but on the phone! I didn’t know he could do that! YOU — “Yessir.”

It probably takes about 15 minutes for him to arrive, though each minute feels like five. You feel like a child waiting for their parents to come pick them up at school. You’re pretty sure everyone is staring at you. You can’t really see through the blurry bokeh of your stupid tears. But you can just barely make out the door of the bar opening, followed by a silhouette marked by orange slipping through. Lieutenant Kitsuragi spots you after a moment, and you quickly try to wipe your eyes like you haven’t just been crying the whole time as he approaches. KIM KITSURAGI — You can hear him pull at the chair next to yours, calmly settling into place. “Hello, detective.”

YOU — You try to pull up some words, but you just find yourself nodding appreciatively as you try not to grimace. COMPOSURE — Somehow, the moment his eyes fall on you, you feel like someone just ripped the rug right out from under your feet. You slide down on your elbows, face pressing down onto the table in humiliation, locking your hands together on the back of your neck, like you’re trying to hide in a little tomb of your own arms.

KIM KITSURAGI — You hear the lieutenant take a deep breath and sigh. He unzips his jacket, stifling him in the warm interior of the bar. “That rough, huh?”

YOU — You don’t want to say anything, but your mouth opens before you can stop it. “I’m such an asshole, Kim. I keep fucking everything up, over and over, no matter how hard I try. I just. Keep falling back into my bullshit.” Your voice shakes as you get the words out. “Is this just as good as it’s gonna get at this point? Have I fucked up entirely too much, entirely too long, am I just… this constant trainwreck now and forever? How much of myself have I wasted away into nothing, doing this shit? Acting like a child. Acting like an animal. It feels sometimes like all I have is more downturns. More hurting people. More hurting myself. And I’m so, so fucking tired… and I don’t wanna do this anymore. If this is how it is, I don’t want to… be.” Your voice stops making any noise by the time you reach the end of that.

HALF-LIGHT — And then there’s silence. You know this silence. It’s the sound of someone deciding they’re sick of your shit. This is the moment he realizes he really, truly does not know you and you don’t know him. And he knows he has to get out of here, before you take him down with you, like you’ve done to so many others. EMPATHY — But then there’s a hard pat on your back. Thumping against a hollow drum, ringing through your electrified lungs. KIM KITSURAGI — “It’s okay, detective.” PERCEPTION — His voice is soft and careful.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Honestly, it’s astonishing you’ve held out this long. It’s barely been two months since Martinaise. Since the Whirling. Throughout my time in the RCM, I have seen many good officers break over less. I didn’t know you before March. I don’t really know what kind of officer you might’ve been before that. But who I am familiar with is the Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harrier Du Bois, the officer I met two months ago, who is probably the strangest man I’ve ever met, but he is also the most relentless, the most stubborn, the most annoying, and honestly, the most sincere man I’ve ever known to grace the RCM. He is a man who cares enough to find the time in his busy workload to help people he just met, whose troubles he sniffs out like a bloodhound, offering them the help that no one else would. No matter how trivial, or how complicated. I don’t know if this selflessness is something you picked up because you don’t know how to help yourself, but I do know there’s a real effort in there. There’s a real, true love for the people of Revachol. And I know how much this job takes out of people. You can’t turn every mistake around in just a few months. Probably not even a few years. But I think what matters is that you are trying, and I can see how much it hurts you to feel like you’ve failed in that. Please don’t think that tonight is a sign that you can’t do better. Tonight is a dam breaking in the expectations you’ve built up for yourself after staring down your own potential.”

PERCEPTION — Are you laughing? Or is that crying? INLAND EMPIRE — It feels like there are ghosts escaping your every breath. Like parts of you are desperately rushing to the surface, tearing through flesh and bone, clawing at a chance for freedom. The lieutenant’s arm still rests heavily on your back, the only anchor your spirit has left as it dissipates into vapor and rushes through the night.

VOLITION — You cry until there’s nothing left in you anymore.

YOU — After a little while, your voice finally returns. “Why are you so nice to me?” KIM KITSURAGI — He takes a long pause and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stubborn too.” PERCEPTION — You turn to look at him as you finally untangle yourself from your chrysalis of arms, and he looks different somehow. You don’t know if it’s your eyes being sore as hell, or the dull ambiance of the hazy bar lights. Somehow, he looks so light. His bomber jacket is slightly pulled up by his folded arms behind his head, seeming to break the bulky illusion it usually projects over his slim torso. Like suddenly seeing a gap in a suit of armor. SUGGESTION — You should tickle him. ESPRIT DE CORPS — He will kill you in mere seconds if you do that.

KIM KITSURAGI — After a moment, he realizes you’re staring at him, then adjusts in his seat, leaning forward and settling his arms in front of him. “How are you feeling? Do you think you can walk?” YOU — “I uhh... probably. My leg doesn’t hurt as much right now.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm.” He mutters, getting up from his seat. “At least there is that small grace. How far is your place?” PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — You’re pretty sure he’s offering to walk you back. You’re not a child, you can get home perfectly fine on your own, thank you. YOU — “Ten blocks.” COMPOSURE — You quickly try to rise to your feet, but it becomes immediately apparent that the floor has been replaced with a rickety old carousel, and you promptly lose your footing. REACTION SPEED — Before you can even attempt to figure out what is happening, you realize that Lieutenant Kitsuragi has wrapped one of his arms around your back. PERCEPTION — His grip is tight and you can feel the muscles tensing in his forearm against your back. Once again, its presence stabilizes you, a beacon for your twisting senses to converge upon. It takes a few moments for everything to slot back into the correct place. KIM KITSURAGI — “Are you sure you’re alright, detective?” DRAMA — His concern is quite sincere. YOU — “I just gotta sleep this off.” You say as you steady yourself back upright.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Let’s get going, then.” He nods to you as he zips up his jacket again, then stretches his right arm out behind your back. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — No, dude, fuck that shit, you’re sick of people propping you up because of your stupid leg, we can do this shit on our own! YOU — “Thanks.” You steady yourself against his arm and extend your left against his back as well. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Hey, what! DRAMA — By now, the lieutenant knows when you’re just trying to bullshit and act like a tough guy. It’s time to drop the act, for now. He knows you need the help. You wouldn’t have called him if you didn’t.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s all I got. The rest is just black. YOU — Ugghhhhhh damn it. Like Kim hasn’t seen enough of me making an ass of myself by now. EMPATHY — On the bright side, his mental image of you can probably only improve. Hopefully. Maybe. YOU — Whatever. What time is it? PERCEPTION — You look around for your alarm clock, and find it knocked onto the floor beside your bed. It says 9:53. YOU — Shit. Did I have work today? ESPRIT DE CORPS — No. Your hours have been temporarily reduced during your recovery period. YOU — Right. Okay. I should probably get up and do something about this headache.

You throw the blanket off of your body and gradually roll yourself out of bed, bones creaking with aches and pains, limping across the room and dodging various discarded clothes and shoes that litter the floor. You twist the doorknob and open your bedroom door, making your way across the living room, towards the bathroom.

REACTION SPEED — Wait! There’s someone… on the couch? PERCEPTION — A figure of a man lies on the couch, covered with an ugly patchwork blanket, still sleeping. Next to the couch, an orange bomber jacket rests. Wait… is that Kim? HALF-LIGHT — OH MY GOD, you’re half-naked, GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM AND PUT YOUR PANTS ON BEFORE YOU HUMILIATE YOURSELF. SAVOIR FAIRE — You quickly backpedal, trying not to make any noise, and press your door shut firmly, hoping that you weren’t noticed. YOU — Why is he here??? I thought he just walked me home? HALF-LIGHT — Stop thinking and get your damn armor on! VOLITION — Armor? We didn’t find any armor pants in Martinaise. DRAMA — He’s being metaphorical. You hurriedly stuff your legs into the closest pair of semi-clean trousers before peeking out the door again.

PERCEPTION — The lieutenant is still asleep on the couch. SAVOIR FAIRE — Alright, go time. You sneak through the living room and into the bathroom, carefully trying not to creak the medicine cabinet as you get yourself some painkillers. ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Down the whole bottle! Party time! VOLITION — No. We are not doing that.

After taking the recommended dose of painkillers, you peek out into the living room again. PERCEPTION — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is still resting quietly on your couch, lying on his back, tightly wrapped in the ugly spare blanket from your linen closet. You suddenly realize there’s something different about the living room… such as, there’s less garbage everywhere. EMPATHY — Did he clean the room up for you? Or maybe for himself?

You exit the bathroom and slowly cross the living room, stopping halfway through, looking at the lieutenant again. PERCEPTION — He looks peaceful, and his face relaxed and still. With his glasses off, you notice more of the shape of his brow and his tired eyes. His breathing is slow and measured, with quiet sighs. One of his arms dangles out from under the blanket, his hand just barely off the floor. His fingers are thin, bony, weathered from work, with little scars and blemishes that have mostly faded away.

SUGGESTION — Hold it.

YOU — What?

No one replies. You stare for a moment, feeling a tension in your chest. Curiosity snakes through your skin. You step closer towards the couch, then slowly crouch down, meeting the lieutenant’s eye level.

SUGGESTION — Hold it. Please.

You reach forward, and the lieutenant suddenly stirs.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mmnh…” His eyes flutter open. “Oh, good morning detective.” YOU — “Uh, yeah. Good morning.” You casually withdraw your hand and rest it on your leg. “Why are you here…?” KIM KITSURAGI — “You don’t remember?” He asks with a hint of concern. YOU — “Well, mostly. I remember you helped me walk home, but after that, it’s fuzzy.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so just the normal amount of alcohol-induced forgetfulness.” The lieutenant nods at you, then sits up on the couch. He reaches for his glasses on the side table, then folds them open. “I decided to stay here on the couch, just in case...” He trails off. EMPATHY — To keep an eye on you. In case you started doing worse.

YOU — “...Thanks. I’m sorry for interrupting your night.” KIM KITSURAGI — “No need to apologize,” he says with a slight smile. “Honesty, I’m… glad you asked for help instead of isolating yourself. That would have been…” He pauses, looking for the correct words. “Not ideal. What time is it, anyway?” YOU — “Bit after 10.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Already that late? Good thing I’m not working today.”

YOU — “Sorry to make you clean up after me.” You say, glancing across the room. KIM KITSURAGI — “Well, no, it’s not your fault or anything. You didn’t expect company.” He seems a bit self-conscious suddenly, looking away. “I suppose it’s more like I don’t know how to leave a mess alone.” SUGGESTION — You’re not sure which mess he means—the apartment, or you. EMPATHY — It’s both. You feel a slight embarrassment tingling across the surface of your skin and decide to change the topic.

YOU — “You said you have the day off?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Yes, I have a few errands to run, part of some loose ends to clean up for my transfer to 41. But I can get those done any time during the day.” SUGGESTION — You should— YOU — “Do you wanna go get breakfast? I know a good place down the street.” You say it before you can even finish thinking. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sits quietly for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Hmmm… sure, why the hell not. I’ve got some time to spare.” SUGGESTION — Jackpot! YOU — “I’m gonna go get dressed, you’re welcome to the bathroom if you need it.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds good.”

You walk into your bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Time to get stylish! LOGIC — Not that stylish, it’s just breakfast. Don’t make it weird. INLAND EMPIRE — Hey, weird is our thing! YOU — I think I’m just gonna wear whatever’s clean and doesn’t smell repulsive. CONCEPTUALIZATION — Oh, sorry, didn’t know we were Boring Cop today.

After taking a quick glance at what’s available, you decide to just go with a simple, pastel gingham button-up and a fresh pair of jeans. Glancing at your coats, you grab a blue blazer with a checkered lining.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Oh my god you look like a nerd. RHETORIC — No, he looks smart. Ready to have a battle of the wits. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT — Yeah, like I said, A NERD!

You quietly ignore the high school bullying going on inside your head as you exit the room. Lieutenant Kitsuragi glances at you from next to the couch, in the middle of putting on his jacket.

KIM KITSURAGI — “No disco today?” He says with a slight smile. YOU — “All my disco’s due for the wash.” KIM KITSURAGI — He tugs at his collar and settles his jacket into place. “It’s almost odd to see you in something so… tame.” YOU — “I mean, I still got the jackets from Fuck the World and Piss F****t if you change your mind.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Somehow I doubt the waitstaff would be understanding of the artist’s statements at breakfast.” He lets out a small chuckle. EMPATHY — There’s a surprising softness in his response. KIM KITSURAGI — “I’m all set to go if you are.”

The two of you head out of your apartment and set out down the road, your destination just two blocks away. The streets of Jamrock are already lively with pedestrians and motor carriages milling about. Before long, you arrive at a staircase with a weathered, striped canopy hanging above, quietly announcing its presence with simple text saying “The Lazy Daisy”. You and the lieutenant head down the stairs and enter the little eatery, pushing past the door and being met with the sweet and salty smells of this morning’s meals. You wave to the waitress and take a seat at a little table in the corner.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant takes his seat across from you, his eyes studying the surroundings. “You know, I never noticed this place before.” YOU — “Yeah, it’s easy to miss amongst all the other businesses on this road.” KIM KITSURAGI — “But you remembered it?” YOU — “I think my feet did.”

WAITRESS — A cheerful, pudgy woman in her forties wearing a striped apron walks over to the table, little menu books in hand. “Good morning officers! Thanks for stopping by the Lazy Daisy today. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”

YOU — “You wanna get a pot of coffee, Kim?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Sure, that sounds fine.” WAITRESS — “Alright, I’ll give you a moment to look over the menu!”

You already know what you’re going to order: skillet hash with a side of toast. You watch the lieutenant look the menu over and find yourself wondering what he’ll order. YOU — “You seem like an Eggs Benedict kind of guy to me.” KIM KITSURAGI — “I was thinking about trying this malted waffle actually. It’s been a while since I had a good waffle.” He replies, not looking up from the menu. “But you are correct, I do enjoy a good Eggs Benedict.”

YOU — “Can’t go wrong with either one.” WAITRESS — The waitress returns, a full pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. She gently places the pot of coffee at the center of the little table and places the mugs down on either side. “Alright, so what can I get for you boys?” YOU — “I’ll go for the skillet hash with a side of dry toast. And the lieutenant here…” KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ll take a malted waffle with a side of bacon.” WAITRESS — “Sounds great! I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

You turn your attention to the coffee and partially fill both of the mugs, absent-mindedly adding a sugar cube and a little cup of half-and-half to yours and stirring, watching the color spread and blend. You look up and notice the lieutenant surveying the restaurant again.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmmm… yes, this place certainly seems your style.” YOU — “What, sad and old?” KIM KITSURAGI — He smiles slightly, but his brow betrays his discomfort. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of… eclectic, stubborn, lively.” He glances at the walls covered in various posters, art, and rock and roll memorabilia. YOU — “Disco.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Disco.” He nods affirmatively.

You absently stir your coffee and lift it to your mouth to take a sip, mulling over topics of conversation. RHETORIC — Go for a standard sort of icebreaker, what’s the latest with him, that sort of thing. ESPRIT DE CORPS — Let’s talk work. Trade some gritty case stories with him! INTERFACING — Maybe you could talk torque dork to torque dork? EMPATHY — Neither of you have motor carriages right now. That would just be a bummer. INLAND EMPIRE — Ask him to tell you a secret! AUTHORITY — That one never works.

YOU — “You just moved into your new place, right Kim? How is it?” KIM KITSURAGI — “Hmm, it’s not bad. I had to make a few concessions but… there’s a bit more floor space than my last place. I finally have a good space for a proper desk.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Now the only trouble is getting a desk up three flights of stairs.”

YOU — “I can lend you a hand with that if you want. I have reason to suspect I may be a former gym teacher.” PERCEPTION — You can’t really hear it, but judging by the steam rolling away from the mug at his lips, you can tell the lieutenant let a light chuckle out through his nose before taking another sip of coffee.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Maybe I’ll take you up on that when I find something suitable.” RHETORIC — Great job! Look at you! You’re so good at talking like a normal person!

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant casually withdraws his notebook from his jacket and starts perusing it while he slowly sips his coffee. YOU — “Hey, no working until we’ve had breakfast.” KIM KITSURAGI — He barely moves, glancing upwards at you and cocking an eyebrow. AUTHORITY — It’s fine, that brow is only operating at about 25% capacity. You got this. YOU — “Take a break, lieutenant.” You place your hand on top of his, gently encouraging him to lower the notebook onto the table. He nonchalantly relents, quickly withdrawing his hand and tucking it under his other arm, which rests casually on the table. His glance wanders away from you and out towards the windows. EMPATHY — It’s hard to tell if he’s annoyed or just playing up indifference. Perhaps you shouldn’t have grabbed his hand like that.

You take a moment to look around the restaurant, passively taking in the surroundings that feel intensely familiar to your instincts, but strangely recent to the rest of you. It’s a weird feeling, one you’ve been experiencing just about everywhere you go in Jamrock. Places that you know but have never seen. Drifting shadows of the person you once were, and still are, half-buried in a haze. Your head fluctuates in the pressure, a mix of pristine images just out of reach and faint illusions gripped tightly in your palm.

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s low voice suddenly pulls you back to reality. “Everything alright, detective?” INLAND EMPIRE — There is a hole in my brain. YOU — “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about the usual.” You pause, contemplating your next words. “Grinding the bourgeoisie into sausage for the proletariat and whatnot,” you lie. KIM KITSURAGI — “Ah, so nice of you to join us, Comrade Mazov.” YOU — You quickly bust out your trusty finger guns and fire off two shots, clicking your tongue as you snap your fingers. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant is unphased by your reckless discharge of live rounds that undoubtedly rain chaos upon the once peaceful restaurant. DRAMA — C’mon, he probably thinks it’s at least a little cool. EMPATHY — It’s not, man.

RHETORIC — Let’s get back to the list. What else can we talk about? YOU — “Tell me a secret about yourself.” KIM KITSURAGI — He sighs. “This again?” YOU — “You know it.” KIM KITSURAGI — He pauses for a moment. “No.” YOU — “Aww, come on.” KIM KITSURAGI — He raises one eyebrow. AUTHORITY — Oh god, we have full capacity brow-raising. I repeat, full capacity!

KIM KITSURAGI — His brow lowers slightly, offering a challenge. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Maybe if you can think of a single piece of personal trivia you haven’t already divulged entirely unprompted to any random passerby, we can come back to this topic.” ESPRIT DE CORPS — He does not believe that his terms can be met. He is secure in that. SUGGESTION — Challenge accepted! YOU — “Deal.” DRAMA — You’re gonna need to work on this for like, at least 8 hours probably. Maybe more like 20.

WAITRESS — The same woman reappears with a tray in hand, radiating the unmistakable smell of hot, fresh breakfast. “Here you are, sirs!” She gently slides the plates in front of each of you. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need! Enjoy your food!” PERCEPTION — You notice the name on her apron: Denice. YOU — “Thanks, Denice.” WAITRESS — She offers a polite smile before leaving.

You immediately start digging in, shoveling the mixed bits of potato, egg, bacon, and cheese into your mouth, savoring the salt and fat of a hearty breakfast. It’s your favorite meal, but you don’t always have the time or energy to get anything decent most mornings.

SUGGESTION — Hey, I just had a great idea! Offer Kim some of this shit. YOU — You finish the bite you have in your mouth quickly. “Hey, Kim, you wanna try some of mine?” KIM KITSURAGI — He blinks. “No, thank you. I’ve got plenty here.” He looks down at the colossal waffle on his plate, barely dented. YOU — “Yeah but this is like, stupid good. I’ll even let you have some egg yolk.” KIM KITSURAGI — “Very generous of you.” He smirks, then studies your plate for a moment. “Hm… sure, why not.”

You slide your plate a bit closer to him. He holds his fork up, surveying for the ideal sample size. Then, he strikes, claiming an entire egg for himself.

YOU — “Woooow.” You feign offence. KIM KITSURAGI — “Sorry, detective. I’ll need to confiscate this. I believe it may be connected to a case I’m working on.” He tries to keep a straight face but the corner of his mouth is slightly turned upwards. In seconds, he files the evidence into his mouth and promptly destroys it.

YOU — “Can’t believe the corruption I am witnessing here.” In a counter-attack, you jab your fork into one of the untouched corners of the lieutenant’s waffle. KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stabs his knife down across from your fork, as if ready to engage in combat. He stares you down, brows furrowed with the illusion of authority. “Detective, I would tread carefully if I were you. You have entered enemy territory, and I have the high ground.”

PERCEPTION — You can feel your face turning red in the heat of the incredibly stupid breakfast battle you have entered. AUTHORITY — Do it! Let loose the dogs of war! Get that fucking waffle! KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant narrows his eyes at you, his concentration unwavering. The authority levels are building in his brow. They are charged to 50% capacity. DRAMA — I have an idea, sire.

YOU — You relax back in your seat, looking behind Kim. “Oh, hey Captain Pryce, here to enjoy the best breakfast in Central Jamrock?” KIM KITSURAGI — He quickly turns his head to look behind him. SAVOIR FAIRE — In an instant, you slice a corner of the waffle free from Kim’s plate, casually sliding it onto yours. KIM KITSURAGI — Realizing the feint, he snaps his attention back to you, glaring.

YOU — You pull your plate back, then pick up your mug, gesturing towards the lieutenant with a slight smirk. “Truce?” KIM KITSURAGI — Studying you for a moment, he reluctantly picks up his mug and clinks it against yours. “For now.”

[concernedbrownbread]

Brevity

For @sokkaweek day 3: Grief/Loss

Preview:

“They made a statue of her. In the square.”

“Is that so? I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“What’s wrong, son?”

Sokka didn’t know how to articulate all the things wrong with a sixteen year old girl giving her life for an eternity old spirit just so the world could take the stupid circle in the night sky for granted. He couldn’t quite describe how cruel the universe was, to let put so much pressure on her, to make her life so hard, only to snatch it away from her before she could even live it.

“The world sucks, dad.”

Or, in the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka finds a statue of Yue and learns to find meaning in the brevity of their relationship

Words: 1809

Warnings/Notes: I know NOTHING about ephemeral art except basic research, so any symbolism I attempted probably either felt flat or heavy-handed. I drew most my inspiration from Néle Azevedo.

Read here or under the cut

---

Stepping onto the banks of the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka felt a chill travel down his spine. Spring was arriving, but only a tribes person could tell - the snow had yet to melt, and the sun was still a shy thing in the sky. But Sokka knew that the cold he felt had nothing to do with the season.

Unbidden, he searched the sky.

“Welcome!”

Sokka straightened, almost feeling guilty about being caught looking up. Beside him, his fellow Tribesmen straightened as well, though for another reason.

“I’m Tanek,” the man said, a slimy, superior smile in place, “And I will be your guide during your stay in the North. Please, come this way.”

When the gates opened, they were greeted with far more hospitability than when Sokka had first visited, though it made sense. With the war over, a certain tension had seeped out of the Tribe – now, the festivities were in full swing, the cheerful faces of children poking through the guards who were standing on either side of the waterway that led to the palace.

“Chief Hakoda,” Chief Arnok greeted, “Welcome.”

The sight of the man sent Sokka’s stomach churning. He looked like he had aged a decade, not a year, skin wrinkling on his forehead and under his eyes as he smiled. Dad reached forward to clasp his arm in greeting.

“Dad,” Sokka whispered desperately, “I’m going to - go - “

Dad frowned slightly, whispering back, “You don’t want to stay for the meeting?”

“It’s unofficial anyway,” Sokka waved his hand, “I’m hungry.”

“Alright, see you later,” Dad winked, “I’ll fill you in on the boring politics.”

Dad turned back to Arnok and Sokka took the opportunity to escape before he had to talk to the leader of the Northern Water Tribe. To Yue’s father .

In another life, he wondered how this meeting would have gone. If he would have waved at Yue, standing behind her father, and she would have waved back shyly. If their Dad’s would trade Dad jokes and embarrass them, or if they would -

Well. It was over now.

Sokka made good on his promise and made a beeline for the food stands. He didn’t have a lot of money on him, or any Northern Tribe money at all, but fortunately they accepted Earth Kingdom coins just as readily. Sokka’s mind immediately started noting how cuisine had evolved differently from the south, and heard Toph’s voice in his head saying, geek.

Sokka snorted. He preferred nerd.

He wandered the city, making a point to avoid waterways, and marvelled at the intricacy of it. He hadn’t had much of a chance to explore last time. Agna Qel'a’s structures rivalled the ones in Ba Sing Se and the Caldera, though Sokka wondered about the integrity of the buildings. Their supports were built primarily upon whale bones, but the rest really was ice, maintained by waterbenders. Southern Winters were different from Northern ones - they’d have to figure out what to do differently …

Sokka’s mind wondered away from architecture as he ducked under an all too familiar bridge. He caught his eyes before they travelled upwards towards the sky.

The food he had eaten had settled uncomfortably in his stomach, nausea rolling as memories floated into the forefront of his mind. He pushed them away with practiced ease.

“Alright!” Sokka told himself cheerfully, “I should check in on dad and the others.”

He forced his mind back onto the buildings around him, onto thinking about the future of his own tribe, and not the past of another one.

He kept avoiding the waterways. It was a lot harder to get to the palace, but it was a lot easier for him, too.

It was because his eyes kept going back to the skies that he spotted it.

He felt his breath hitch at the sight, a burning climbing his throat and reaching the back of his eyes. The chill he had felt since he got here made him tremble.

The ice sculpture had her arms outstretched, up towards the sky. Her expression painted into a mix of determination and sorrow, just as beautiful as Sokka remembered her. She was dressed in the same clothes, hair tied in the same knot, as he last remembered her. Somehow, even in ice, Yue was beautiful.

He was going towards her without even realising it, as though the promise to protect her had rekindled in his heart.

There was a crowd gathered around her, at awe as they should be.

It was smaller than he expected - smaller than she deserved. Made only of translucent ice, one that would melt when spring came in with full force. Sokka frowned - surely they should’ve used something sturdier to eternalise his girlf -

Do I even have the right to call her that?

A dull ache settled into his heart, one that never seemed to go away. He pulled away from the statue, the sight of it leaving his skin burning.

“Like it?”

Sokka whipped around to look at the woman, her hair greying with age and an adoring smile on her face as she gazed up at the statue.

“It’ll melt,” Sokka replied flatly.

“It will,” she agreed.

“I don’t get it.”

She didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t, “The beauty of Princess Yue’s life was in its brevity - "

“Her life wasn’t brief!” Sokka burst out, “How dare you! You didn’t even know her!”

“On the contrary, I was there for her birth, and every birthday since. I was the one who taught her the beauty of art, of sculptures,” the grief in her voice was undeniable – and unsettling. There was so much familiarity, when she spoke of Yue, something Sokka had never had.

Then she turned to Sokka, “But I don’t remember her mentioning you.”

Sokka felt the words catch in his throat, forming an uncomfortable lump.

“Whatever,” he hissed, “I need to go find my dad.”

The knowing in the artist’s eyes left him feeling uncomfortably cold, even more so than the chill of the arctic did.

---

Sokka wandered into the room that Dad was staying in, directed there by a worried Bato. Dully, he noted the decor, similar to the room he, Katara and Aand had shared during their time there.

Sokka had hated sharing back then, even as he had needed it. He had wanted to invite Yue over, but he certainly didn’t want Katara meeting her and spilling all the dumb stories of him from when they were kids.

Now, Sokka wished he had taken every opportunity to be with the Princess. Even if it meant his annoying little siblings were tagging along.

“Hey Sokka,” Dad greeted cheerfully, “Have fun?”

“Oh ... yeah.”

Dad frowned, “You seem a little distracted. You okay?”

“Do you …” Sokka sighed, “You still miss Mom, right?”

Dad was by his side immediately, pulling him down onto the bed so that they were sitting comfortably. Dad-instincts , Katara called it.

“Of course I do,” Dad said, “I miss her everyday.”

“So it … never goes away?”

Of course it never goes away. Sokka knew that already. Every time he caught himself looking up at the sky, a dull ache in his chest. It never goes away, but life goes on anyway.

“What’s this about, Sokka?”

Sokka wrung his hand together in knots, “Do you remember Yue?”

Dad’s eyes softened, “I remember.”

“They made a statue of her. In the square.”

“Is that so? I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“What’s wrong, son?”

Sokka didn’t know how to articulate all the things wrong with a sixteen year old girl giving her life for an eternity old spirit just so the world could take the stupid circle in the night sky for granted. He couldn’t quite describe how cruel the universe was, to let put so much pressure on her, to make her life so hard, only to snatch it away from her before she could even live it.

“The world sucks, dad.”

Dad huffed a bitter laugh, “It does.”

Yeah. He supposed that’s the only way to explain it.

---

Sokka stared up at Yue hanging in the sky, just behind her statue. He smiled wryly at the irony, and though Yue might have giggled at it too.

“Ah, you’re back young man.”

This time, Sokka didn’t startle, “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m sorry for my outburst, earlier.”

The woman waved a dismissive hand, “I’m sorry I did not recognise you. Had I known who you were, I would have been more careful with my words.”

“You know who I am?”

The woman smiled, “There are very few in this tribe who don't. Yue was very fond of you.”

“She was?” he asked hopefully, feeling a little bit like a lovesick schoolboy.

(And maybe he was. Sue him.)

The woman laughed, “She was indeed. Anyone who knew her could see it.”

“I only knew her for a couple days,” Sokka admitted.

The woman nodded, and the pain in her eyes felt more like kinship than anything else, “Even so.”

“I feel like I don’t deserve to mourn her.”

“But you lost someone,” The woman put a hand on his shoulder, turning him gently towards the sculpture before them, “Grief knows no bounds, there is no right and wrong to mourning. Princess Yue cared about you - you made her happy,” the woman smiled ruefully, “And I know she made you happy too. And now she makes you sad. Such is love and life.”

“How cheesy,” Sokka mumbled through his tears.

The woman gave him a stern look, “Nothing cheesy about sincerity young man. Now! Tell me what you know about art.”

“I know a thing or two,” Sokka grinned, wiping his tears.

The woman looked unimpressed, “I do recall Princess Yue saying you were, and I quote, charmingly boastful.”

Sokka sighed happily, “She really said that?” he perked up, “So you knew her well?”

“So-so,” the woman said, “She was very reserved, but I like to think I saw a side to her that no one else did.”

Sokka looked at the statue, considering, “Is that why you made a statue of her that would melt?”

She smiled softly, “It is. Her life was short. Shorter than she deserved, but we cannot change that. But we can remember that even in her brevity, she had meaning. That even if you had not known her forever, you had known her, and that it meant something.”

“Art isn’t about how long it lasts, but about what it means in the moment.”

They stand together in the quiet, watching the statue and the moon and Yue. Knowing that it would melt, and be rebuilt, only to melt again. Knowing that the moon would wax and wane. Knowing the water pushed and pulled, in an endless cycle. And knowing that even as life comes to an end, there will always be meaning in it.

---

Authot's Notes: EEEE, at least it's finished I guess. I want to expand this for when people from other nations arrive so I can write politks and tension while also keeping the theme of grieving Yue in the background (in my a world, reborn series). That being said ... I'm a slow writer, so maybe don't expect anything anytime soon, oops.

[princekoo]

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

    The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself.  The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that.  He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

   The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

[holylulusworld]

End of a dream

Title: End of a dream

Square Filled: Free space (mechanic!Dean)

Ship: Mechanic!Dean x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Ruby

Rating: Teen

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, mentions of divorce, mentions of cancer/aneurysm, loss of will to live, comforting, fluff, sadness, remorse, language

Summary: What happens when a dream ends?

Word Count: 2,4 k+

Written/Created for @spnaubingo​

2020 SPN AU BINGO Masterlist

What happens when a dream ends? What happens when the love of your life, the man you love since you were a six-year-old girl tells you he does not want to be a part of your life any longer?

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you! Sammy told you to sign the divorce papers over two weeks ago,” exasperated Dean runs upstairs to look for you. “Y/N.”

“I will sign the papers after the room stopped spinning,” you croak out, holding tight onto the pillow which used to be Dean’s. “I told Sam this morning I’ll sign the papers. I will not bother you any longer.”

“Why are you in bed at 2 pm on a Wednesday?” Dean steps closer, looking around the messy bedroom. “Did you clean lately? Sammy said you are sick, but the flu is no reason…”

You do not react, do not fight back and Dean’s stomach tightens seeing you are barely able to lift your head. “What’s wrong with you Y/N?”

“I’ll sign the papers. Do not worry, I am out of your hair soon. One way or another,” you close your eyes, hoping the headache will go away.

“Sam told me you are sick for two weeks. Did you see a doctor?” Stepping closer Dean glances at you, wondering why you do not react or give him a snarky comment like you used to do.

“Stop acting as if you would care, okay. Place the papers onto the bed and I sign anything when I feel a bit better.” Dean does not like you sound defeat nor is he used to you not giving him a piece of mind.

“Y/N, you need to see a doctor, today.” He is carefully touching your forehead, but you slap his hand away. “I am worried, sweetheart.”

“Sure, you are worried. Let’s face the truth, you give a shit on me Dean. You didn’t have a problem with telling me you want to divorce me a week after my best friend died,” you press the pillow close to your chest, holding back a sob. “Leave. If I die you have fewer problems to get rid of me.”

“Die? Y/N – What are you hiding from me?” Dean sounds genuinely worried, but you do not care if he’s worried or not. You lost all hope.

“I will die, that’s a matter of fact,” you clamp your mouth shut, not meeting Dean’s gaze. “There I said it, Dean. Go and party with the girls you want to meet up with. Maybe you can marry one of them sooner than expected.”

“Y/N, that’s not funny, okay. Let’s talk like adults and not make a terrible joke about dying and crap,” Dean hopes you will tell him you are joking but the way you lie on the bed, a shadow of your former self tells him it’s the hurtful truth.

“Doctor gave me two months, maybe three. If you are lucky you stressed me  enough and it is only two,” voice bitter you look at Dean, giving him a sad smile. “I will not fight for anything. Not the house or whatever you want. I don’t need it anyway.”

“Y/N,” Dean chokes out, kneeling on the bed, desperately grasping for your hand. “Please tell me it’s a lie. Tell me it’s a trick to get me back.”

“I am not cruel, Dean. I would never use tricks or lie to you to get your back. I know you don’t love me anymore, maybe you never did,” you sniffle silently.

“I want to talk to your doctor, Y/N. Please tell me the name and I’ll call to get to know more. There must be a way to save you…”

“She refused to have the surgery. Why? I need to know if it can save her life or not. 75 percent, that’s good – right?” 

Dean paces around the doctor's office, swallowing thickly when he gets to know you don’t want to live longer than needed, that there is nothing left in your life worth living and the surgery is no guarantee you will survive.

“I am sorry, Mr. Winchester,” your doctor sighs, rubbing her sore eyes. “I told your wife the surgery will save her life to at least 75 percent but she refused to even try. I am afraid she lost her will to live. In her condition, there is no guarantee she will recover. A patient needs the will to live, to fight.”

“Will to fight,” nodding silently Dean looks at the white stripe at his ring finger. “We are in the middle of a divorce.”

“I know, Mr. Winchester. Y/N told me she has no reason to fight. That all she dreamed of slipped through her fingers. I think she was ready to have a baby when you told her about divorce. She asked me about fertility and,” your doctor's voice cracks when she closes your file. “Doesn’t matter, Mr. Winchester.”

“The tumor, will kill her if you do not remove it – right?” Huffing Dean falls onto a chair in your doctor’s office.

“It adds pressure to an aneurysm in her head. The aneurysm itself is easy to remove, but the tumor will make things more difficult. We have to do it fast, within the next weeks, even better days before the tumor grows again,” silence fills the room when Dean gets back up to pace around the office again.

“I’ll talk to her, doc. She will have this goddamn surgery…”

“I signed the papers,” weakly pointing toward the papers on the nightstand you ignore Dean’s worried look. “You can go now. I called Ruby, she’ll help me prepare my funeral and all.”

“Son of a bitch, Y/N!” Dean yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. “You will not die, okay. We will go to your doctor’s office and talk about options. She told me about the tumor, the aneurysm, and the surgery.”

“She had no right to do so,” you choke out, glaring at Dean with tired eyes. “It’s my life, I don’t want surgery and end up as a drooling invalid,” slowly you sit up, wrapping the blanket around your body. “Did she tell you there is a high chance I will end like that? Did she? No one would care about me and I’d end up at a care home, Dean. I don’t want this, so I’ll not have surgery.”

“Y/N, the doctor also said there is a 75 percent chance you’ll survive, and nothing will happen. Do not throw your life away only as I wanted to divorce you. I…I still love you. Life got between us, but this doesn’t mean I want you to die.”

“How merciful of you, Dean. It’s wonderful you do not want to see me dead,” sarcasm dripping from your lips you stare at the wedding band on your finger. 

“You removed it the day you said you want to leave. I did not even have the chance to process you will leave before you placed the ring onto the table. What you feel is not love, it’s pity. Go and leave me alone for the rest of my life as it’s what you wanted to do in the first place.”

“Y/N, come on,” Ruby tries to cheer you up while Sam looks at the file Dean gave him. If not on free terms, Dean wants to force you to have the surgery. “Just say yes.”

“I said no,” you glare at your friends, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ve got enough, okay. My life never was easy but with Dean, I had hope. But…”

“Listen, you need to get over the break-up with my brother and fight for your life. Stop acting like a stubborn child. You have friends who are worried about you,” you slowly get up to stalk toward Sam, poking your finger into his chest.

“If you tell me how you get over the loss of the love of your life, of the man you love since you were a six-year-old kid, I’ll have the surgery. So, tell me, Samuel Winchester,” you look up at your friend, tears in your eyes, “how will I get over him?”

“Y/N,” Ruby wraps her arms around you, stroking your back, “please don’t give up, don’t leave us. I know you are scared, but we will be there for you.”

“That’s the problem, Ruby. I am not afraid to die, I am afraid to live…”

“I’ll not let you die,” Dean purses his lips, pointing toward a bunch of papers. “I’ll let Sammy call a judge to place you under a disability if I have to! You will have this surgery!”

“Why, Dean? As you feel something for me – doubtable,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “That feeling is you selfishly trying to assuage your guilt.”

“I will not let you die, period. You can willingly agree, or I swear I’ll drag your cute ass to the doctor and do it myself!” Dean clenches his jaw, looking down at you with watery eyes. “Please, sweetheart.”

“If I end up as a drooling invalid, you will have to pay for a nursing home,” you turn on your heels, stomping toward your bedroom, slamming the door shut.

“What if she dies? What if she ends up as a drooling invalid? What if this was the wrong decision and she’ll hate me? What if the doctor kills her?” Dean panics, pacing around the hallways whilst his brother and Ruby try to remain calm.

“Dean stop making me nervous! My best friend is in there, fighting for her life. Don’t make this even harder for me!” Ruby grits out. 

“That’s my wife, the woman I love in there,” Dean yells now, “I got all the right in the world to be nervous, scared, and to fucking panic!”

“Oddly, you are the one wanting to get rid of her! Why are you acting as if Y/N means shit to you now that she is close to dying? Weeks ago, you wanted to be free again, Winchester,” Ruby pushes against Dean’s chest, clearing at her boyfriend’s brother. “Y/N is the best thing ever happening to you, you douche!”

“I know,” Dean chokes out. “You don’t have to tell me so, Ruby. Y/N was always too good for me and a few months ago, I proofed I am not worth her love,” he downcasts his eyes, fiddling with his wedding band. “I lost a lot of money at the garage, had barely customers. The bank will take my garage, but I thought if I divorce Y/N and she gets the house before I am bankrupt, she can keep it.”

“What the actual fuck, Dean!” Sam yells now, glaring at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell us so? Why didn’t you ask for help instead of breaking Y/N’s heart? She thought you never loved her Dean, was ready to die!”

“I was ashamed, Sammy. I’ll lose Bobby’s garage, the one he gave to me, believing I’ll take good care of his business. I couldn’t tell Y/N that I will lose everything, including Baby. She would’ve tried to give me the money her granny gave her,” Dean grumbles, pressing one hand to his heart. “I didn’t want to drag her down with me, Sam. I had to hurt her to not ruin her life too.”

“You fucking idiot!” Sam punches his brother's nose, panting heavily. “We are family, Dean. If we need help, we stick together and help each other. I got money saved, so does Y/N and our parents. One word and we would’ve helped you.”

“I know…”

“How much do you need, Dean?” Ruby asks pressing a tissue to Dean’s nose. “Come on, jerk. Tell me.”

“Ten-thousand, maybe fifteen-thousand bucks,” Sam sighs, rubbing his forehead nervously. 

“Dean, dad has around 150,000 bucks, okay. He would gladly help you, just like me and Ruby. Hell, it’s a great investment. We help you out, get like 5 percent of your business and you’ll repair our cars for free,” Sam offers, knowing his brother is too proud to accept help. 

“You want to be my partner?” Dean’s eyes lit up when Sam places one hand onto his shoulder. 

“A silent one, only coming around to get his car fixed or to annoy his elder brother. Now cut the crap, send me the numbers and we will check everything over the weekend. You’ll not lose your business or your wife,” nodding Dean looks at the doctor who walks toward the small group.

“Mr. Winchester,” the doctor pants, “we made it. The tumor is gone, the aneurism fixed and as far as we know there is no damage. We will have to wait for her to wake up, but the surgery was a success.”

“Sweetheart,” sniffing Dean presses his lips to your hand, gently brushing the skin with his soft pillows. “I love you.”

“Dean?” coughing you look at Dean who squeezes your hand tightly. “Where am I? Did something happen?”

“You had surgery – remember? I mean, do you remember me?” you hum, knitting your brows together to remember the last days. “I am sorry, for everything. I never wanted to divorce you, Y/N. I messed up business and…”

“Is it out?” you look at Sam and Ruby who stand awkwardly in the room. “I mean, am I going to live?”

“Yes, and you will have to hear about the stunt your brilliant husband pulled, Y/N but this can wait. You’ll have to recover and meanwhile, I’ll kick Dean’s ass on your behalf,” Sam smirks, squeezing your shoulder.

“Unbelievable!” You toss a plate at Dean, almost hitting his head. “You could’ve talked to me, but no, Dean fucking Winchester prefers to leave me!”

“Sorry,” Dean ducks to not get hit by the next flying object, grinning as you grasp for a vase to throw it at his back. “I thought it’s for the best, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart my ass, Winchester! I’ll kick your ass when I feel better,” you threaten, throwing your phone at Dean who shrieks as you hit his ass. “Bingo!”

“Fuck, baby girl, stop throwing things at me. I said I am sorry, Y/N.” Dean dodges your next attack, crawling toward the coach to poke his head around the corner of the sofa.

“I am not done, not at all!” While you try to find anything to throw at Dean he sneaks toward you, to pick you up in bridal style. “Gotcha sweetheart,” he snickers, running upstairs to bring you away from any potential weapon.

“I swear, you will be the death of me, Winchester…”

Tags in reblog

Credit for Impala divider: @writeyourmindaway​

[hutchhitched]

Screw West

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 137: Friends to lovers road trip au! Katniss wants to take a summer off to explore the country, Peeta volunteers to go with her. Bonus points if one of them is an absolutely oblivious idiot. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. Usually, I travel a lot during the summer, but not so much in 2020. Instead, I wrote this story for you. Enjoy!

___________

  Peeta Mellark sifted through a stack of notes and sighed in frustration. “None of this makes sense anymore,” he grunted. “I thought the point of planning this was to have a, I don’t know, plan or something.”

 Katniss Everdeen, his best friend since their freshman biology class a million years ago, looked at him in amusement and rolled her eyes.

 “I thought you were supposed to be the spontaneous one in this friendship, Mellark” she laughed. “I promised you a road trip, but only if you’ll help me figure out some kind of time frame for when we’ll be back. I have lesson plans to write for the fall, you know. Some of us actually have a schedule. I know this was my idea, but you did agree to join me.”

 Peeta grinned at her mischievous smile and shrugged. He’d been hopelessly in love with her since forever, and she had no idea how excited he was that she’d agreed to him accompanying her on her trip. The fact that she’d told him she wanted to take the summer to explore the US, and he’d called in every favor he could at his job to make this happen was something he’d never admit. He’d had to lobby his editor pretty hard to convince him that Peeta could write his column remotely and that doing so from different tourist destinations would actually strengthen his following rather than diminish it. Haymitch Abernathy only budged when the newspaper’s owner, Effie Trinket, pressured him to agree. Peeta wasn’t about to question Haymitch’s approval. With orders to keep the costs to a minimum and turn in his stuff on time, his boss had told him to report back after Labor Day.

 So, he’d broached the subject with Katniss, hoping she hadn’t been joking when she said she wanted to head out and see all the things she’d never had a chance to in her childhood. He’d been absolutely ecstatic when she’d hugged him hard and thanked him for being her road trip buddy across America. The problem was they had no idea where they were going, no concrete plan, and absolutely no idea how to make a firm decision.

 “Maybe we could start on the East Coast and work our way south first,” he suggested, but she shook her head.

 “I think I’ve done that. I mean, we both grew up in the Appalachians. Didn’t you see about as much of the eastern seaboard as you’ve ever wanted to? I haven’t been to Florida, but it seems kinda similar to the outer banks in North Carolina and the Low Country in South Carolina and Georgia. I’ve definitely been there.”

 “Yeah, I guess you’re right, but it seems like a waste to head due west when we’ve got the time to ramble a bit.”

 “Screw west? What?”

 “Due, Katniss. Due west.”

 “Ah. That makes more sense.” She nodded thoughtfully, but then made a note. “Maybe we can swing back through the South on the way home later in the summer?”

 “Sounds good,” he agreed. “So, we’re going north first?”

 “Maybe just west like you said? I don’t know. I want to see what’s on the other side of the mountains. I’ve never been further than Pittsburgh that direction, and that’s just kind of sad.”

 “So, we’re going to drive through flyover country.”

 “Exactly. Something’s gotta be there, huh?”

 “I guess we’ll figure out why everybody calls it that, anyway.”

 Katniss flipped through an outdated atlas for a few minutes and finally shoved it to the side. She turned her body toward him, and he looked at her, desperately trying to hide his affection. He felt like a heart eye emoji every time she was in the same room.

 “I think we ought to just pack for every situation we can fathom, get in the car tomorrow morning, and start driving. We’ll figure it out then. And we’ll be together, so it can’t be that bad, right?”

 “Right,” he breathed, his heart caught in his chest. “I guess I better go home and pack. Pick you up at 8:00 tomorrow?”

 She leaned over and gave him a hug that made him want to bury his face in her neck and press kisses there until she moaned his name.

 “See you then.”

 He left shortly afterward, walking to his car with a pang in his stomach. He was headed out on an unplanned road trip with the love of his life, and she had no idea how he felt. He had only one thought as he started the car and headed home.

 “I am so screwed.”

 ****

 Bleary-eyed and anxious, Peeta pulled into the Katniss’ driveway at 7:58 am the next morning and honked lightly on the horn. He knew she was up since she’d texted him three times asking him if he was awake and on the way and, oh, would he stop by their favorite coffee shop and pick up pastries and espresso? If he wasn’t half in love with her (okay, completely in love with her), he would have turned off his phone and gone back to sleep.

 Except he wouldn’t. He’d jump out of bed every single day just for a glimpse of her, and that was more truth than he ever wanted to admit when it appeared she had no interest in him outside of their very close friendship.

 Heaving a sigh, he climbed from the car and bounded up the steps to her door to knock three times in rapid succession. It opened, and Peeta had to bite the inside of his right cheek not to embarrass her by telling her how gorgeous she looked. Because she did. She was sleep rumpled, but her face was lit up with excitement. So excited she was practically wiggling, she flung herself at him for a massive hug and then motioned him inside.

 “Are you taking all that?” he asked when he spied the mound of luggage by the door. Or a pile of random stuff was maybe a better way to describe it. There were a couple of boxes, a cooler, a duffel bag, a backpack, and two grocery bags stuffed full of shoes and what looked like swimming paraphernalia.

 She shrugged and walked down the hall to the bathroom. “I packed up some snacks and things I thought we might want, and I have my electronics and some books, and we agreed to pack for any occasion, so I’ve got swimming stuff and a couple of jackets if it gets cold in the mountains, and who knows how hot it’ll get? And hiking boots. I want to do everything, Peeta. Ev-er-y-thing!”

 And could he help it if that shot straight to his dick? Because he wanted to try everything, too, except he wanted to try it all with her. Naked and in bed. Kissing and rubbing together and—

 “I’m so screwed,” he whispered before grabbing her backpack and cooler and stalking out to the car.

 ****

 Katniss hopped into the passenger’s seat with a wide smile and bounced a few times before fastening her seatbelt. She turned to him, glanced at the backseat to make sure she could access everything they might need in the new few hundred miles, and crowed, “Road trip!”

 He couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. It was adorable—she was adorable—and he was suddenly flush with eagerness to spend the next few weeks with her. They hadn’t really decided on how long this would go, just that they would be together and make it up as they went along, but he hoped he had at least three weeks since he had the okay from work to be gone the entire summer. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could stretch it into a month or more. Like Katniss, he hadn’t seen much of the US past the Appalachians, and he was looking forward to discovering what the nation had to offer.

 “So, where are we headed?” he asked, his foot on the brake and hand on the gear shift. She laughed and leaned into his shoulder. He gulped and swallowed hard at the feel of her soft skin against his arm.

 “I thought maybe we’d head out of town first,” she teased.

 He shot her a wry smile and rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you. Very informative, as always. Which highway?”

 She turned fully to face him and tucked her left leg up on the seat. Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned toward him as she wiggled in her seat.

 “Where have you always wanted to go?”

 “Anywhere with you,” he said softly and then snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to say it, but she was so adorable. She’d never understood the effect she had on him, but he was powerless to resist her pull. Whatever power she had over him had only grown over time, and he wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life with her. If not that, then he wanted to freeze this very moment in time and live in it forever.

 “So kind,” she scoffed, “but I’m serious, Peeta. I’ve never been further west than Pittsburgh, unless Nashville counts. What’s out there, anyway?”

 “I have no idea,” he murmured, but that didn’t matter to him. What he wanted was right in the car with him, even if she had no idea how he felt, or how he’d felt about her for the past ten years.

 With a shrug, he put the car in reverse, backed out of her driveway, and headed for I-64. After all, it took them due west.

 ****

 Peeta glanced over at the woman sitting in the passenger seat and asked for what felt like the hundredth time, “Okay?”

 Katniss nodded, the ghost of a smile twitching on her lips. The windows were partially down, and a breeze blew through the locks of hair that had escaped from her braid. They were somewhere in central Kentucky, and he felt like he’d won the lottery.

 Lush forests of deciduous trees graced the sides of steeply sloped mountains that fell to a valley in which the interstate bordered a swiftly flowing river. Wildflowers sprung from cracks in rock along the side of the road, and the air smelled fresh, a little like spring and also a bit similar to a summer barbeque right before a thunderstorm. It was humid and sticky, but the circulation kept them from sweating too much. Besides, they were saving a shit ton of gas by not running the air conditioner.

 “Want me to drive?” she asked, and he glanced over at her. Her cheek rested against the headrest as she looked at him, and his stomach dropped to his knees. She was so beautiful.

 “At the next stop, sure,” he managed and shifted in his seat. If he left himself, he’d start imagining scenarios that would only get him in trouble—some in which she leaned over and did more with her mouth than talking, and that seemed disrespectful to his friend.

 “How much longer do you want to go today? I mean, the whole point of this is to see what’s out there, and we won’t be able to when it gets darker.”

 “Is there some place you want to stop? Anything catching your eye?”

 “Not really. This is pretty, but we don’t have to stay on the interstates if you don’t want to. They make the trip faster, but that’s not really the point, is it?”

 He nodded and watched the signs for a few miles before signaling and exiting. He needed to use the restroom, and he wanted to take a look at the map and figure out where exactly they were in relations to a place he’d gone with his family when he was young. They were in the general vicinity of somewhere that held special memories for him, and he wanted to make some new ones with his best friend.

 Once they were back in the car, Katniss in the driver’s seat this time, he handed her the keys and suggested they head south on the highway instead of getting on the entrance ramp. When her eyes sparkled, he knew he’d made the right suggestion. They’d been traveling for over five hours, and they’d done nothing more than watch the scenery pass outside the window. It was time to be part of it.

 It took another 45 minutes or so until he saw the sign, and he directed her to the second exit into Daniel Boone National Forest. Back when he was younger and his parents still pretended to like each other, they’d taken a family vacation and stayed at the park for a few days. He and his two brothers had hiked and played happily for hours, and that time was still one of his favorite memories from when his family was together.

 “It’s beautiful,” Katniss gasped as she pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. “We’re going for a hike, right?”

 “Yeah, sure. I mean, if you want to. I came here with my family when I was younger, and that trail has a little waterfall at the end, if I remember right.”

 They changed quickly into their hiking boots and set off through the woods. It wasn’t a tough hike over slightly sloped and fairly wide space. They met other couples and families, many holding hands, and Peeta yearned to reach for Katniss and walk with her hand folded against his. They got to the waterfall by late afternoon and took the time to sit quietly and listen to the wind in the trees. Visitors popped in and out, but they didn’t mind the intrusions. Eventually, each left, and they had the place to themselves for a little while before another group stumbled into the clearing to see the falling water. Eventually, though, the sun dropped further in the sky, and Peeta suggested they head back to the car, find a place to stay for the night so they could shower, and then grab dinner. The snacks they’d had in the car during the drive just wouldn’t satisfy him after such a long day.

 It took a little while, but they finally stumbled upon a small mom and pop hotel in a tiny out of the way town. Peeta offered to get their luggage while Katniss checked them in, so when he followed her to room 415, he wasn’t prepared for what faced him. Katniss worked the key (an actual key, not a keycard) into the lock and opened the door. Her surprised, “oh!” should have been enough for him to figure it out, but he still gaped when he stepped into the room and saw…

 There was only one bed.

 Flustered, he offered to ask for another room, but Katniss waved him off like it didn’t matter. She reminded him that they’d fallen asleep on the couch together dozens of times since they’d known each other.

 “This won’t be any different,” she insisted and grabbed her toiletry bag and some fresh clothes. “I’m going to shower, and then you promised me dinner.”

 Peeta watched her retreating back and sank onto the lone bed. Bouncing a little bit on the firm mattress, he looked to the ceiling and whispered, “I’m so screwed.”

 ****

 Dinner was lovely, if Peeta said so himself, and he did. It wasn’t much, really just a local family diner with a menu focused on home cooking and large portions, but it left them both full and satisfied. Better than that, they’d talked a lot. It probably helped that they were facing instead of sitting next to each other in the car. He was grateful for the laughs and intimacy over the meal, but now he sat on the edge of the mattress, his leg shaking as he waited for Katniss to finish in the bathroom.

 Because, did he mention? There was only one bed.

 The bathroom door opened, and he shot up to standing. Katniss tossed him a distracted smile as she crossed the room. She wore ragged sweats and wrinkled t-shirt he’d seen her in a hundred times, so at least he didn’t have to worry about her wearing some sort of lingerie (not that he would have expected that since they’d always planned to share a hotel room, if not a bed).

 “I’ll just…” He trailed off and waved toward the bathroom, and she nodded while scrolling through her phone.

 He stared at himself in the mirror and berated the image there for being so awkward. This was Katniss. They’d been friends for forever, and he loved her deeply. This wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d camped out on his couch dozens of times, and they’d woken up together with no problem at all. There was no reason to think this would be any different.

 The light was off in the room when he emerged from the bathroom and made his way to his side of the bed. Carefully, he pulled back the covers and climbed in, careful to keep himself on his half. When he was settled on his back, he glanced over at Katniss to see her back to him.

 “G’night,” she murmured, and he returned the sentiment before nestling below the covers and falling asleep after several long minutes during which he cursed his overactive imagination.

 He slept dreamless until just before waking, when he envisaged driving a car through a red-sanded desert. The car sped down a hill, and he pressed the brake a few times before admitting to himself that they weren’t working. Panicked, he looked to his right to see Katniss with a smile on her face as the wind blew through her hair. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as they charged toward a rock wall.

 Bolting upright in bed, he gasped and shook at the vividness of the dream. Katniss still slept next to him, her hair splayed around her head on the pillow and her legs tangled with his. She remained on her side of the bed otherwise. She hadn’t cuddled into him overnight, and he wondered if he should be relieved or disappointed. He decided to allow himself a little of both and quietly untangled himself from her and made his way to the bathroom. The last thing he needed was for Katniss to wake before he could get his anatomy under control.

 Once the door was closed behind him, he breathed out for several seconds. His morning wood was uncomfortable, so he spent a few minutes attempting to quell it. Unfortunately, his mind continually flitted to the image of Katniss lying in the bed, her face angelic, and her hair fashioning a halo around her head. After a few minutes, he turned on the shower and stepped inside. Cold water should do the trick.

 A few minutes later, he was clean and completely unsatisfied but in control ready for breakfast. Katniss sat on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and grumpy. When he greeted her, she grunted and stumbled to the bathroom without a word.

 “So, further west today?” he asked when they had checked out and snagged a booth at the local Waffle House. He’d forgotten how good and cheap the breakfasts were there, and he inhaled a stack of pancakes and some ham while she picked at an omelet. He studied her over his coffee and then stole a sip of her orange juice. When she didn’t protest, he nudged her foot with his. “What’s wrong?”

 She shook herself and managed a wan smile. “Nothing. Just tired. I didn’t sleep great last night.”

 “We don’t have to go as far today. We can take it easy.”

 “Sure. That sounds good. I’ll take the first shift.”

 She drove silently, while he studied the map, both physical and on his phone. He guided her back to the interstate and then pulled out his laptop and typed a few notes. They helped him organize his thoughts and gave him an excuse to stay quiet.

 “What’s there to see in Paducah?” she asked, startling him from his bubble.

 He shrugged and typed the city into his phone. He glanced at the map for a few seconds and then offered, “There’s a local brewery. We could check it out. Stay there tonight. Not in the brewery. In Paducah, I mean.”

 That turned out to be the perfect plan. They checked into a hotel (two beds this time) and walked several blocks to the brewery where they found a table and ordered. The beer helped them both relax, and it wasn’t long before they were chatting and laughing like normal.

 “So, Paducah’s now the furthest west you’ve ever been. Feel any different?”

 “Totally. My life is complete.” When he laughed, she continued, “I mean, no. It doesn’t feel much different. What does feel new is this trip at all. I’ve never really done this—strike out on a whim and let the road take me where it wants to. It feels good to let go of all that control. Thanks for giving me the chance to do that.”

 “Of course. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

 “Uh, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a woman over there that looks like she really wants to do a few things to you,” Katniss said and pointed her half-empty glass over his shoulder. He glanced behind him and gulped.

 “Wow. She’s undressing me with her eyes, isn’t she? That’s bold, since I’m here with you.”

 “Yeah, but you’re not really here with me, are you? I can make myself scarce if you want to…” she trailed off suggestively, and he fought to keep his face blank. He didn’t need another reminder that she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend, but here it was. God, it hurt. Every single time she expressed her lack of interest, it broke his heart a little bit more.

 “I really don’t.”

 “You might not have much of a choice. She’s headed over.”

 Panicked, he gulped his beer and beseeched her, “Feel free to be my girlfriend. Save me!”

 She snorted just as the woman appeared at their side, and the stranger dismissed Katniss with a disdainful glance before speaking to him. “Hey, there, handsome,” she drawled. “I’m Glimmer. Can I buy you a round?”

 “Uh, well, I—”

 “Excuse me,” Katniss said and slid off her stool. He watched helplessly as she made her way to the restroom and left him alone with his unwanted guest.

 “Now, that we’re alone,” Glimmer purred and ran her hand over his forearm. She settled into the vacated stool and smiled widely. “So, what’s your name, honey?”

 If he wasn’t already head over heels in love with his best friend, he might find this woman and her southern accent charming, but that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want this washed out version of a companion. He wanted Katniss. He hemmed and hawed for several minutes, attempting to discourage her without being rude, but she was more insistent than he liked. He caught Katniss’ eye as she stood by the bar ordering a beer and shot her a pointed look. Thankfully, she seemed to get the point. She paid for her two beers and threaded her way back to him.

 “I got you another, babe.”

 He grabbed the glass and thanked her, but Glimmer still didn’t take the hint. He introduced the two half-heartedly and watched with humor as Katniss studied Glimmer and thanked her for keeping Peeta company while she was gone.

 “I think he’d like me to stick around,” Glimmer said pointedly, and Katniss turned to him.

 “Is that so?” And then she leaned in to kiss him.

 Shocked, Peeta didn’t know what to do at first. The kiss remained chaste for a few seconds, but his mouth opened involuntarily. She didn’t hesitate to sweep in with her tongue. She pressed into him, and he let go of his beer to cup her face as he tangled his lips with hers.

 Suddenly, Katniss broke away and grinned at him while he gaped at her. “You’re welcome.”

 He blinked a few times and realized Glimmer was gone. Katniss resumed her seat and calmly took a sip of her drink and then suggested some options for the next day. Peeta ducked his head and pretended to listen. Now that he knew how she tasted, he had no idea how he was going to be content remaining friends. After a few minutes, he excused himself so he could regroup in the bathroom. There he faced himself in the mirror and whispered his road trip mantra.

 “I am so screwed.”

 ****

 The next day they crossed the Mississippi River and stopped briefly in St. Louis to visit the Gateway Arch and eat, even though the barbeque was different than what they were used to. Both preferred the vinegar base and coleslaw of the Carolinas, but what they had wasn’t bad either. When the waiter asked for feedback, he suggested continuing on I-70 and comparing what they’d had for lunch with that in Kansas City.

 “It’s sweeter. Almost caramelizes on the meat. You might like it, and it doesn’t hurt to try different styles if you don’t really have an agenda.”

 That was how they ended up in an upscale hotel near downtown Kansas City and eating ribs and burnt ends for the second time that day.

 “This is definitely better,” Peeta groaned through a mouthful of pork, and Katniss agreed.

 “So, I’ve been thinking,” she mused. “We’re pretty deep into the Midwest, and nothing really looks much different, right? I think we should slow down. We’re halfway across the country, and we’ve been gone three days.”

 “I’m okay with that,” he agreed.

 “I vote for staying here for a few nights. Relaxing, sight-seeing, swimming, maybe putting together a little more of a plan. Eventually, I want to make it to the west coast. Drive up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, maybe see the redwoods, but there’s about a zillion national parks between here and there. Can we go? Please?”

 “Of course, we can. We can visit whatever you want. I told you I’m all in before we started this thing.”

 A smile split her face, and she threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Peeta.”

 He gathered her to him and held her to his chest for several minutes before she pulled away. He didn’t even bother to say it out loud this time. He simply closed his eyes and internally chided, “I am so screwed.”

 ****

 A week later, Peeta wanted to die. If he’d thought he loved Katniss before, he was irrevocably, head over heels, undyingly in love with her now. Waking up with her day after day, sometimes in the same bed, sometimes just in the same room, was excruciating. She was grumpy and irritable in the morning, but it was absolutely adorable. He loved watching her let loose and enjoy herself more than he’d ever experienced back home in Virginia. They shared more than they ever had and dug up memories he hadn’t even remembered until she punched something loose in the back of his brain. Before long, it seemed like she knew, not just his mind, but his entire soul.

 It was so easy with her. He felt like his best self with her, and his writing was flourishing. She talked through lesson plans and ideas about how to arrange her classroom and shared her thoughts about moving into counseling as a better way to help her students. They talked about their families, their current lives and what they imagined for the future, and she told him about her past boyfriends and asked about his girlfriends.

 Sometimes, Katniss looked at him while he drove. He often wondered what she was thinking, but he didn’t have the guts to ask. He relished the feel of her skin under his fingertips when she handed him snacks from the vastly depleted stash in the backseat, and he gave himself a bruise pinching himself when she wore one of his t-shirts the day they stopped to do laundry in a small town in eastern Colorado. He drove where she suggested and snapped pictures of her in front of breathtaking scenery and took selfies of them both when she asked. When she shivered in the mountains in Colorado, he shielded her from the wind by holding her against his chest, and he groaned gratefully when she rubbed his tight shoulders at the end of the day. By the time they made it to Wyoming, they’d stopped correcting the hotel clerks who automatically booked them to single rooms. It saved money, and neither of them minded that there was only one bed when they got to their room.

 “This may be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been,” Katniss announced when they stopped in the Grand Tetons. They’d agreed to spend a week exploring Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park, and neither of them regretted it. The views were spectacular, and the weather was perfect.

 “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking at the view. He tried to shift his gaze when she turned to look at him, but he was frozen, unable to tear his eyes from hers.

 He could tell when she figured it out. Awareness dawned on her face, and he held his breath. Terrified, he shifted back and forth and tried to wave it away, but she stepped toward him and grabbed his wrist.

 “Peeta?”

 “I’m s-sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean— I, uh— See, I wasn’t—”

 She waited quietly when he ground to a halt, but his stomach and heart were both ripped open wide. She didn’t feel the same way. He’d always known that, but now she was going to say it, and he wasn’t prepared.

 “Can I try something?” He was too dismayed to answer, so he nodded and held still. “I just want to see.”

 A soft breeze ruffled his hair as she stepped toward him and tugged him down by his shirt. His face was an inch from hers, and she studied him carefully before closing the gap and kissing him softly. He breathed through his nose and allowed her to lead, but she pulled away before it deepened. Disappointed, he couldn’t help comparing it to the one back in Paducah in the overcrowded brewery with Glimmer as a witness.

 “It’s really beautiful here, but I’d like to be back to the car before sunset. Can we go? Don’t want to get caught in the park by mistake,” she asked, her voice cool and detached.

 “Sure,” he agreed. He followed her as she started down the mountain, trailing far enough behind that he could shield his regret. He’d always held out a little bit of a hope that she’d return his feelings someday, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. She was as unaffected by their kiss as he was destroyed by it.

 Making sure she didn’t hear, he hissed, “I’m so screwed,” at least five times through the ache in his chest.

 By the time they got to his car, he was barely holding it together. He started the vehicle, backed out of the parking spot, and headed to their hotel. The thought of sleeping next to her that night was almost more than he could bear, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Sighing, he turned up the volume on the radio and concentrated on driving since the steep, winding roads necessitated more attention than usual.

 A few miles from their hotel, the radio faded into static, and he reached to change the station before resting his hand on the gear shift between the seats. When they pulled into the hotel lot, and he shifted into park, he was shocked when she covered his hand with hers. Twisting his palm, she tangled her fingers with his and stared at them for long, tense moments.

 “Katniss?” he croaked. She didn’t respond at first, but then she squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

 “Let’s go in,” she said softly.

 He swallowed hard and studied her face. “Are you sure?”

 She nodded and unfolded herself from the car. She was already to the door of their room before he could move. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside. A second later, the curtains closed and the door cracked open again. Peeta watched as her hand emerged and hooked the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle.

 “Oh, God,” he breathed and scrambled from the car. “I am so screwed!”

[writingmyanxietyaway]

Doctor Love | Berlin

Requested by anon:  So okay okay, I had this idea a few days ago, and since your requests are open I'm gonna slide in real quick :)is it okay if I request a little scenario where like, u know when Berlino does that dumb thing of self sacrificing becuz he's gonna die anyway? What if his girlfriend/reader has been searching for a cure for his illness and before he can get himself killed she goes in the bank and tells him and somehow they manage to escape from the bank? No pressure if the idea doesn't appeal u! Ily!!

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: spoilers of season 2! maybe swearing, mentions of violence, guns, the whole shabang

Note: not my gif! Okay, so I’m in love with this request!! It took me a little longer to write, because I wanted to get it perfect. Let me just say I’m not a doctor, so I have no idea if there is a cure for the illness he has, but Imma try! Hope you like it darling! Thanks for the request and love you too! xx

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

‘I’m sick. I have an illness called Helmer’s myopathy. It’s a muscle degenerative disease, which means that my muscles get weaker and weaker until my heart muscles can’t keep up anymore. If I’m lucky I have four months left,’ he told you like it was nothing; like it was answer to a question on a pubquiz. He held your hands in his, knowing it would break your heart and dreams of a future with him.

‘Andrés..’ you whispered, ‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ He sighed and gently shook his head.

‘It’s uncurable, princess. I have medicine that I have to take every few hours that make it somewhat acceptable, but I wanted you to know.’

You visibly broke down. Even though you were always someone who never wanted to show any emotion besides happiness and anger, but this was different shit. Your hands were shaking, body trembing as you tried to understand that everything you had imagined yourself doing with Andrés would be nothing more than a dream. It simply didn’t make sence. Being together with Andrés for more than six months, you’d hoped he would be more open towards you and share what was going on with him. You felt your throat closing up, eyes filling with tears.

This illness was just the cherry on top for him. The man had done terrible things in his life and could mark off just about any sin in the Bible. Stealing, robbing, charming women. Karma was getting her way back to him and all he could do was accept his fate. It came across as cold to you. All this time you planned this whole life for you two together, but he knew that would never come true.

‘No! This is cruel! You let me believe we would be together for the rest of our lives, hell, you told me you wanted to marry me when you got out! You knew even if you made it out alive, you wouldn’t live longer than summer. You’ve done some terrible things in your life Andrés, but this..’ you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. ‘This is just rude.’

The sadness you felt quickly turned into anger as you kept yelling at him, hitting him in the chest. He knew better than to interrupt you and tell you that everything would be okay, because he just now realized it wouldn’t be okay. He would die and leave you behind. Period.

‘I knew you were a self-centred bastard! You always play these mind games and somehow make everyone get on their knees for you! Is that all I am to you, huh?! Some game to find how far you can go? Because let me tell you Andrés, this game is finished. Game. Over,’ you hissed. You threw your hands up in the air and stormed out.

That was more than four weeks ago. In the meantime you had spoken again and this time the anger had disappeared and just cried. That was all you could do. You had accepted that you would most likely be a widdow before summer and that broke your heart, but you also wanted to fight. Andrés told you there was no cure to his illness, but there was hope burning inside you and you did everything in your power to still find that cure. Whether it meant getting no sleep for the next few weeks or not.

Andrés would soon be leaving for the big robbery and you had spent every second of the day being with him and holding him close. The times where you would have rough sex the entire day were over; it was now making love. He was gentle to you, making you breakfast in bed even though he could easily ask one of the maids to do it and even buying you nice dresses in colours that matched your eyes.

Without him knowing, you contacted one of your best friends who worked at the lab of a university and asked him if he could do more research on medicine for muscle-related illnesses. He said he had some information that he wanted to share with you, but that meant you had to visit him.

‘Babe, I’m gonna have to run to Macy really quickly. Think you’ll be okay?’ you asked. Macy was your sister and seven months pregnant, so it often happened that you visited her to help her with something. That way he wouldn’t suspect a thing. You had no idea how he did it, but he always seemed to know what you were up to.

‘Of course, princess. Give her a kiss for me, okay?’ he winked, giving you a kiss on the lips. You lightly slapped his chest.

‘Be back for dinner,’ you told him. Out of the blue, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you against him. He leaned down and you could feel his breath on your neck. Shivers send down your spine.

‘Your ass looks great in those jeans,’ he whispered, placing a light kiss on your neck and slapping you on the bottom. You giggled and pushed yourself away from him.

‘Bye!’ you called, waving him goodbye and walking out the door. You soon arrived at the university and was met by your friend who was waiting for you outside. You greeted each other with a hug and quickly got to work. He told you about the compositions of the different medications and what effect they had on what part of the muscle.

‘Isn’t there any way we could find a way to make this medicine last longer? This is the medication he uses now to keep it under control for a few hours,’ you gave him a syringe filled with the medicine and he studied it. He took the bottle from you and studied it contents.

‘There are some elements of this medicine that also appear in this,’ he pointed to a beaker filled with a milky white liquid. ‘I should be able to find a connection that makes this last longer.’

‘Is there anything I can do? I feel so hopeless not being able to do anything,’ you mumbled.

‘You did a great job already by giving me this. Is it okay if I keep the syringe? I need something that we know works, even if it isn’t permanent,’ he said. You nodded and waved your hand.

‘Of course. Anything to help find a cure. Thank you for doing this. I can’t even explain how much this means to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t at least tried,’ you told him. He turned to look at you and gave you a hug. 

‘That’s what I’m here for. If I find anything, I’ll let you know, okay?’

-

It was the fifth day of the heist. Andrés had been gone for almost three weeks now, being busy with training and all. He obviously knew about the plan already, but being the passionate man he is, wanted to go over every single detail again. He couldn’t afford making any mistakes. The goodbye was hard. You cried loudly as he held you close, whispering little reasuring words in your ear. You were thankful for Sergio. He kept you updated on everything that was going on, but didn’t tell you any details or steps of the plan. You didn’t want to either; it was scary enough without knowing how everything went down in there.

It was now wednesday and you were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t heard from Sergio in two days and it started to worry you. The news wasn’t exactly uplifting too. Andrés’ face was displayed all over every tv channel, name heard on every radio station and seen on every wall in Spain. Your heart fell even lower when the news announced he was sick. The smug inspector worked on you nerves as she spoke about him like he was an animal. Sure, the man had done things that broke the law, but he never killed anyone nor hurt any woman.

‘Fuck,’ you cursed under your breath. Suddenly your phone rang and the called ID showed Alex, your friend at the lab. Your heartbeat increased and you were anxious about what he was about to say. You picked up the phone and heard his loud voice. A tearful smile made it’s way on your face as you heard him say those three words you so desperately longed to hear.

‘I have it! I have the cure!’ he yelled. You jumped up and raced towards the university where he was already waiting on you. The hug you shared was one filled with hapiness.

‘Okay, he needs to inject this like he did with the other medicine. This is enough to last until november. I have some of it still in the lab so I produce more and work more on the duration of it. I can’t promise it will work for the rest of his life, but for now it’ll do,’ he spoke. You said goodbye and rushed to Sergio’s hide-out. The medicine you held in your hands would give him at least eight more months and until then Alex had a better cure. You burst through the doors and Sergio jumped up. You could see the whole that had been dug in the floor. You turned to Sergio and burst into tears of joy.

‘He’s not leaving us, Sergio. He’s staying. With you, with me. He’s staying,’ you rushed. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and the rush of adrenaline was so high, you thought you’d pass out. Your words seemed to land as he slowly moved towards you. His gaze fell on the little box you were holding and his eyes flickered from the black object to the hole in the floor and tears welled in his eyes.

‘I have to get it to him, Sergio. He needs to know there is something out here for him. You and I both you the man is up to something. Let me go in there, please!’ you pleaded. He quickly snapped out his trance and gave you a red suit and black boots to finish the look.

‘When you get to the indside, wait inside the vault. No one knows you’re getting in and that way you won’t get attacked. Take this with you,’ he pushed a fake gun in your hands and you placed it in the holster on your thigh. ‘Goodluck.’

When you were about to enter, you heard a lot of noise coming from the computer. The police had broken in. He nodded to you and you ran as quickly as you could through the tunnel. When you entered the vault, you were met by two people. A young man with dark hair and a woman with blonde curls. They looked suprised to see you and the man pointed a gun at you.

‘Serg- El Professor send me. I’m Berlin’s girl,’ you quickly said, stumbling over your words. Sure, you were carrying a gun with you, but it was a fake. Having a real gun pointed at you made you nearly shit your pants. When the girl pointed out I was carrying a gun and came through the only way out, he lowered the gun and craweled through the tunnel. It wasn’t hard to find Berlin as he came running in the direction of where you were coming from. You caught the stares of the other people who nodded at you and went on with their duties.

‘Berlin, babe!’ you called, making him freeze.

‘What are you doing here, princess? It’s not safe for you. They’ll come running through those halls any minute now,’ he sternly said, turning around and grabbing you firmly by the arm. ‘Leave, now!’

‘No, I’m not leaving. I came here to tell you I found a cure,’ you breathed and everyone around you froze. ‘You didn’t know, but I’ve been doing research for a medicine and I’ve found it. The first dose should work ‘till November. After that I’ll have a much stronger and longer working dose.’

‘Princess, I told you to leave,’ he said more firmly this time. You didn’t move.

‘Like I said, I’m not leaving. Not without you anyway. You promised me a life that I could only dream of and now we can have it. I love you with all my heart. I can’t loose you. Not now, not ever.’ Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged the man you loved so much to trust you and come with you.

‘Leave, now. Helsinki, take her with you,’ he ordered the bulky man behind you, but he didn’t move.

‘Love is a passionate thing, Berlin. I don’t know this woman, but she found a cure for your uncurable disease. That’s literally doing the impossible. You have five seconds to decide to leave with this woman or I’ll take you with me. Don’t look away when you have everything in front of you,’ he spoke. He turned his attention to you and you gave him a grateful smile. He smiled back and nodded.

‘Will you please come with me? If you don’t come with me, I’ll stay with you. I either die with you or leave with you, you decide,’ you stated. He looked at the box you held in your hand and realized how much he loved you. Moving towards you, he passionately smashed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t filled with lust, but relief and gratefulness.

‘As soon as we walk out those doors, I’m marrying you. No exceptions,’ he mumbled against your lips. You nodded and held him closer.

‘That was the plan.’

You heard the policemen run behind you and Helsinki was quick to throw a grenade. Berlin pushed you all inside and bowed your head in his chest. Once the grenade had exploded, you all rushed back and blew up the tunnel. You joined Sergio and Helsinki in the back of the truck, leaning against Andrés.

‘There are no words to explain how much I love you, princess. No words.’

The two of you left to Cuba, where you got married soon after you arrived. The wedding was on the beach, your white dress flowing around you while you stared at the man you could finally call your husband. Only a month after the wedding you surprised Andrés by telling you were pregnant.

‘You are my heart, my soul and my everything. Thank you for being my wife and everything I’ve ever wished for.’

.. .. .. .. .. 

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk​ - @michaellangdonenthusiast​ - @hamiltonsofcrap​

[jj-ktae]

·41/45· Intoxicated - Prompt Game -

Title : Intoxicated Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!reader Genre : Angst, Fluff, romance Words : 2060 Summary : Breaking up with Jinyoung was already complicated, yet he came, drunk and desperate, at 4 in the morning. Prompts : N° 41 : “Do you remember our first kiss?” N° 45 : “I don’t want you to stop.”

Prompt Game - Masterlist - 

Intoxicated

Your sofa is not comfortable. You never noticed how hard it feels against your back as you try to find a better position while watching questionable videos at 4 in the morning. 

It doesn’t matter, rest is for people who can turn shut their brain off. You can’t. It’s been a month. A whole thirty-one days of going back to a life made of instant noodles and drooling on your favourite fluffy pillow. 

Today is Friday and after numerous rejections, your friends gave up and stopped forcing you to join them into some fancy bar. It doesn’t feel right to be partying like this, especially when you feel like rolling yourself into your blanket like a burrito. 

Which is already done. 

It’s not like you’re depressed; you’re the one who broke up with your boyfriend because of event you were not sure you could get out of. 

Jinyoung is a man of high standards. He was raised in a wealthy family where everyone has their own role and future traced from the crib. He followed his parents’ choices without rebelling once. 

Except one time, two months ago. 

You had been dating for almost a year when his parents found him a spouse. She was the daughter of a man everyone wanted on their side and his family couldn’t say no when the promise of a profitable alliance appeared in their household. 

Only then you saw how unflappable Jinyoung could be. He would reject day after day, not bothered when his parents used the word disown as a weapon. Jinyoung didn’t even flinch and was ready to pack and move in with you. 

Poor boy would hate spending all his evenings on your sofa.

It became too big for you to handle. There was nothing you could do except break up with him so before he could run away from his luxury you left, lying about not loving him, using the word mistake like it meant nothing. 

Jinyoung had told you though. Trust me, he always said.

There was nothing to trust. Jinyoung would have never been able to find another job if these two companies were to team against him. It is true that he is a simple man, but you couldn’t live with the idea of being what destroyed his life. 

So you walked away, isolating yourself and ruining your health at work. It’s been a month and you feel as empty, the feeling of being the one responsible for your own misery distilling hate into your whole existence. 

There is no turning back now. Jinyoung must get married and become what he is destined to be.

You’re clicking on this documentary about salmon trout and their reproduction cycle when heavy knocking on your door startles you. 

Your neighbours are probably going to complain about non-existent noises because that’s what they do.

You check your pyjamas - shrugging when you notice a stain a ketchup from your precious fries session. 

But it’s not the old neighbour you find behind the door. 

“You opened the door…” Jinyoung’s smug smile makes you take a step back. He is leaning against the doorway, head restless. “I thought you wouldn’t…”

“What are you doing here? Why are you drunk?” You inquire before checking the hall. 

Jinyoung laughs, his head raising in evident distress. “I am not drunk! Come on!” His voice dies when you pull on his arm to force him inside. 

Damn him for showing up completely drunk. 

“Oh so I can come in” Jinyoung mumbles, letting his plastic bag fall on the floor with a loud thud before attempting to untie his shoes. 

“It’s just until you sober up.” You scold, blaming your soft side for giving in so quickly. You didn’t have a choice; your building is filled with people who abuse the police’s phone number daily.

Jinyoung snorts, grabbing his bag again and aiming for your sofa where he lets himself fall. “I brought wine. You love wine.” His voice becomes sad as unwraps the bottle.

You sigh, reaching his side and taking the bottle. “Thank you. Now rest and leave when you feel better. You know where everything is.”

It’s too much work. Dealing with a drunk Jinyoung is usually funny; he becomes a mess of clumsy and cute and oh god he becomes so luscious as soon as music starts.

“I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on a sofa!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why did you come then?” You turn around to put the bottle on the dining table before gasping. “Holy shit Jinyoung, this is a Domaine de la Romanée Conti! Take it with you, it’s expensive!”

Jinyoung snickers, his lazy hand brushing your words off. “Do I look like I care about this…” 

“Listen,” You walk back to the sofa, stopping when Jinyoung leans over his knees to bury his head into his hands. “I’ll put the bottle back into the bag. Rest for now and you can leave whenever you want. “

“How is it so easy for you?” His question breaks you out of your monologue. “How is it so easy to speak like this?”

“Jinyoung, I don’t think it’s a good-”

“A good idea?” He asks, raising his head and revealing moist eyes. “All of this was a very bad idea, right? Because it was a mistake?” His head seems clearer suddenly. “Do you even think I believed you for one second?” 

You raise a hand and shake your head. “No Jinyoung. You won’t make me say what you want to hear. You’re drunk, stop this.”

“Of course I am drunk!” He speaks louder, annoyance tainting his vocal cords. “I am wasted because it’s all I can do! Breaking news: not everyone is as heartless as you.”

It stings. No matter how this is what you wanted, hearing his pain can only make you regret. 

“It’s better this way. Look around you! How would you have lived? Jobless? Disowned?” He doesn’t understand. Life is not a soap opera; love is not always the answer to everything.

“I told you to trust me! I told you I would sort this out! You didn’t listen, you freaked out and left, even though I told you to stay with me, no matter how I begged! How cruel is that?” Jinyoung gets up, ignoring his spinning head and contracting stomach. Rage is blurring his vision and the memories haunting.

You don’t know what to answer. As much as you want to think you are right, it is cruel. Jinyoung didn’t go against his parents to get dumped. 

“I don’t know what to say...all I did was for your happiness. You can’t risk everything for me.” You explain, eyes now equally watery. 

Jinyoung nods, eyes closing painfully. He goes to the windows; the place he loves the most in your whole flat. “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asks, not even turning around. “It was right here.”

You smile, that night still printed into your brain. Jinyoung confessed a day after you both met. 

His smile was wide and hopeful that day; nothing seemed to stop him as he explained his attraction to you and how he loved the way you dismissed him when he showed up at your desk and explained he had to see your boss for and important matter. 

He had left his number on his way back with a wink while your boss yelled at you for not letting the son of an important business man see him. 

Stupid, you thought, as you still dialled his number to complain. 

He asked you out and a day later you were kissing, his hands on your hips and yours in his hair. 

Now he looks pitiful, abandoned and disturbed. 

“I remember.”

He finally turns around, his last attempt at making you come back to him hanging on his lips. 

“I made it clear that no one else but you are going to be in my heart.” He raises said hand, a single tear falling on his cheeks and he must be pretty drunk to openly cry like that in front of you. “Did you really think I was going to get married to someone else but you? This is ridiculous, you don’t marry people you don’t love.” he walks away, pacing weirdly and even bumping into your lamp. 

“What have you been telling your parents?” Jinyoung is stubborn, you don’t know why but he cannot let things go. “What are you going to do if they ever-”

“If they can’t understand something as simple as their only son’s well-being, there is nothing I can do.” Jinyoung concludes, looking hurt both because of your rejection and his parents’ inability to let him do what he wants. “I will not stay around people who want me miserable, but I can stick to those who make me feel loved and understood.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad to get married to a rich and pretty girl.”

Jinyoung stops walking, looking dumbfounded. “Do you even hear yourself? It can’t be that bad?” 

“I mean, your career is your future. Your family is important, too! What is so special about me that you’re willing to risk everything even after I broke up with you?!” You yell, hating both yourself and him for being in such a situation. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why are you wearing stained pyjamas on a Friday night while watching stupid videos? Why aren’t you enjoying your single life as you should?” Jinyoung hits jackpot as easy as he used to. He knows you; you’re not the type of person who watches questionable videos, anyways.

“I was tired.” Is all you say, your drained face giving away your current mind-set.

“Please,” Jinyoung rubs his forehead, completely done with your behaviour. “You’re not happy. You think you made the right decision but you didn’t. You’re fooling yourself and trying to be an altruist by ‘saving my life’ yet you’re stomping on me again and again. So what if I have to work shitty jobs and sleep here? Are you scared that you might not take advantage of my bank account? Is me being poor so bad that you want me out of your life?” 

It triggers you, it triggers you so much that you start crying. “Stop!” You shake your head, your heart clenching. “I’m warning you, never imply, ever again, that I was after your money.” you want to sound threatening but you must look ridiculous. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I can spit venom and feel nothing? I didn’t want you to suffer because of me, I want you to be happy and live the life you should be living. I’m literally forcing myself to stop loving you, Jinyoung.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want you to stop.” Jinyoung breathes, his feet aiming for your trembling figure. His tone softens when he sees you crying. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to handle such a view. “What I’m trying to say is that no matter the amount of wealth and the number of connections, you make me happy and you’re the life I should be living. If you take that away from me, I’m done for.”

You sob harder, his words buzzing and more comforting than ever. 

He brushes your arm silently, his head dipping to take a good look at your bloodshot eyes. “Can you please stop trying to take all the decisions and believe me? It’s been a month and now I need you to come back to me.”

He doesn’t give you a choice; but you don’t need to ponder. 

“Are you really not going to regret this?” You try one last time, your eyes searching for his but his drunk face shows no concern, no sign of doubt, no hint of hesitation. 

“All I’m regretting is that I didn’t come sooner.” He concludes, his arms spreading to signal he needs a hug.

You carefully envelop him, his scent hinting he has been drinking a lot of liquor. “Promise me you’ll try to convince your parents some more.”

You hear him chuckle, his arms rubbing your back. “I promise.”

“I actually missed you a lot.”

Jinyoung can only inhale, his arms tightening and head finding shelter in the crook of your neck. 

“Welcome back, baby.”

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: 12 Grimmauld Place Setting

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Colliding By Design by Asterie Rated:  Explicit Words:  21491 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Interior Decorating, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Witch Weekly, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Interior Designer Draco Malfoy, Hipster Wizarding London Summary:  Draco Malfoy has used his time under house arrest to launch a promising career in interior design, and Harry Potter has inherited a magical house in desperate need of renovation. It’s an age-old story, brought to you with a little “help” from Witch Weekly Magazine. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Only Ash Remains by Saulaie, shilo1364 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  66870 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Depression, Disability, invisible disibilities, Healing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Family, Malfoy Family Feels, POV Harry Potter, Community: harrydracobang, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018 Summary:  One year after Harry defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, he still has no idea what to do with his life. He’s been living at No. 12 Grimmauld Place with Hermione and Ron, but they’ve spent the past few months on an extended stay in Australia to try and restore Hermione’s parents’ memories. Alone, he feels set adrift. Everyone else is focused on enjoying their summer before Hogwarts reopens (after a one year rebuilding period), but without Ron and Hermione, Harry doesn’t know if he can go back. Everything changes when the Malfoys dramatically re-enter his life, and together they learn to live again. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 keep it down by warmfoothills Rated:  Explicit Words:  13657 Tags: Living Together, Housemates, omg they were roommates etc, Grimmauld Place, switching POVs, between the boys and ginny also gets a couple of interludes because we love her!, backyard quidditch, Yoga, Masturbation, references to draco/others, including blaise, not so accidental aural voyeurism, not so accidental aural exhbitionism, Clothes Stealing, shampoo borrowing, wall sharing, rugby and denial (harry), snobbery and slobbery regarding food (draco), Massage, a long hot summer, bit of breathplay, one small linny reference, it’s porn but i make you read 10k of faffing about first, an EXCESSIVE amount of parentheses, harry’s an idiot, draco’s only slightly less of an idiot Summary:  Malfoy’s an inconsiderately loud roommate and Harry’s over it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 almost heaven by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Explicit Words:  12432 Tags: Sentient Magical House, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor, House magic, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Sex Magic, Rituals, Happy Birthday Tacky!!, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco’s father dies. Harry’s house has a tantrum. When it turns out the two are related, Harry has to decide how far he’s willing to go to set his home to rights. And when Malfoy ends up looking like that, Harry finds he’s willing to go a lot farther than he ever thought he would. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 I could be wrong, I could be ready by harryromper Rated:  Mature Words:  57343 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, POV Alternating, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Romance, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, wizarding houses, House magic, Magic, Families of Choice, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Magical Theory, Brooklyn, Roller Coasters, Socks, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Professor Neville Longbottom, Curse Breaker Bill Weasley, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Godric's Hollow, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, Lovers to Friends Summary:  At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter. The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Modern Love by tackytiger Rated:  Explicit Words:  61322 Tags: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Slow Burn, Oblivious Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Politics, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Songfic, Friendship, Found Family, Mentions of Cancer, References to Illness, Chemotherapy, references to canonical child abuse, references to canonical deaths, References to Depression, Drunkenness, Sad Harry Potter, Church Services, Hymns, Atheism, Kissing in Church, Religious Discussion, Light Angst, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Minor Injuries, Blood and Injury, Gay vicar, Original Character(s), Original Character Illness, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Scars, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Minor Draco Malfoy/ Sexy Tall Vicar, Draco Kisses Someone Briefly That's All I Promise, Magic/Muggle Relations, Jealousy, Family Drama Summary:  Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is. And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 In Every Universe by skeptique Rated:  Mature Words:  27179 Tags: Dubious Consent, More Detailed Warning in End Notes, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Several Dracos Malfoy, depiction of mental health issues, Depiction of Anxiety Attacks, Brief Mentions of Drowning (in a dream), Mystery, Multiverse, Parallel Universe, Canon Content Warnings Apply, Moral and Ethical Quandaries Abound, Implied Drug Use, alcohol use, Smoking, Biracial Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Minor Character Death, A Very Light Sprinkling of Smut Summary:  They sent Professor Harry Potter to search for Unspeakable Draco Malfoy. Draco has stolen a Firebird, an experimental magical device from the Department of Mysteries that lets you enter parallel universes as yourself. As Harry traverses from universe to universe, he begins to think Draco might be the one searching for him. A story about whether knowing what's possible makes it possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Haunt the corner of my eye by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  23358 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Mystery And Angst With A Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Student Draco Malfoy, Healer Luna Lovegood, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Portrait of a Marriage by glitteringvoid Rated:  Mature Words:  130626 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Proposal, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship, Relationship Discussions, Enemies to Friends to Something More, Lack of Communication, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Consent Issues, Internalized Acephobia, Ferrets, Bickering, Asexual Draco Malfoy, Touch-Averse Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Can't Cook, Slow Burn Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Minor Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Dubious Consent Summary:  Harry didn't want to marry Malfoy, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and Malfoy looked so smug and well - now they are married, and the house still doesn't like him, and Malfoy only looks more smug. Draco didn't want to marry Potter, he really didn't, but he also does want this house and he never seems to be capable of escaping Potter anyway, so if he is already doomed to being married off he might as well decide for himself what he is worth, sign the papers and ignore everything wrong with that plan until physically no longer possible. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Litany by thistle_verse Rated:  Mature Words:  7170 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Pandemics, Quarantine, Isolation, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Wizard's Chess (Harry Potter), Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Touch-Starved, Drinking, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Ghosts, Guilt, Lists, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cleaning Up The Mess by Samunderthelights Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  3469 Tags: Drarropoly: Founders Edition - A Drarry Game/Fest, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, 12 Grimmauld Place Summary:  Harry has been hiding away at 12 Grimmauld Place, trying his best to clean up the place. He has fallen into a quiet and boring routine. But when Draco shows up at his door one day, asking for his wand back, that quiet and boring routine of his is about to be broken. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Grimmauld Christmas Curse by crimsonheadache, inspired_being, kitty_collab (kitty_fic), Ladderofyears, Vaysh Rated:  General Words:  2323 Tags: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Aunt Walburga (portrait), Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Meme Insert Summary:  "I'm telling you, Hermione, the house is out to get me." Harry poured two cups of tea and passed one across the kitchen table. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry, it is not out to get you." Or is it? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Distractions by pottergerms Rated:  Explicit Words:  2239 Tags: Grimmauld Place Summary:  Kingsley was not his friend. He was not a paperboy. And Harry Potter was definitely not the hottest thing alive. ❤️ Read on AO3

[jjoutermaybanks]

With You In My Head || Rafe Cameron x Reader

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

summary: it’s going to be a long summer. living in the Outer Banks with your trailer park mom and fancy mansion dad, you know it’s going to be a tough three months. things only get harder when your best friend’s brother, the notorious Rafe Cameron, begins to complicate your life even more. but will the island’s biggest wildcard successfully steal your heart, or leave you more broken than before?

word count: 5k

warnings: some casual smut for the TL, enjoy ;))

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART THREE

You didn’t sleep at all that night.  Hours were spent tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling above you and trying not to close your eyes.  Whenever you did, Rafe’s face flashed into your mind.  More specifically, the chilling expression of intensity that he’d worn while beating the absolute crap out of JJ.  It haunted your thoughts, and you were sure that if you fell asleep you’d see it in your nightmares.

Rafe had scared you more than anyone ever had before.  Violence had always made you sick, which was one of the reasons why you avoided the many skirmishes the Pogues found themselves in.  Bruises and blood didn’t sit well with you, and the smell of JJ’s blood was burned into your nose.  The cracks of Rafe’s fist against his body also echoed in your ears, and it was as if the fight had overwhelmed all of your senses and was slowly drowning you.

So when the morning light began filtering into your room, you were grateful.  You could get up and make breakfast and do everything in your power not to think about what had happened.  

Trudging into the small kitchen of the trailer, you peered over and saw your mother snoring away on the pull-out couch.  Her body looked contorted on the thin mattress, twisted in such a way to try and sleep comfortably.  She looked stiff and there was a frown on her lips, making you sigh.  It pained you that your mother had to live in this stupid trailer, and you angrily recalled the giant house you’d visited your father in yesterday.

It was so unfair.  Their divorce had stolen every last drop of energy and life from your mother, leaving her defeated and passive.  Your father ended up more egotistical and self-centered than ever, at the expense of your poor mom.  You wished more than anything the roles had been reversed, and it was him suffering in this dump rather than her.

But this was real life, and you’d learned a long time ago to accept things the way they were.  This mindset made it hard for you to be optimistic, and you rarely ever hoped for anything.  Frowning, you realized you’d had a sliver of hope on the beach yesterday with Rafe.  You’d secretly hoped you could learn to trust him, and that the two of you could be friends.  But that dream had been destroyed almost as quickly as it was created, which seemed to be a trend in your life.

You felt claustrophobic in the small trailer, and after rifling through the fridge decided to take a trip to the local market.  You barely had any food, and you thought it’d be nice to get some fresh fruit and vegetables for your mother.  

The market was buzzing with early morning activity, and you smiled at the familiar faces of the merchants.  You drifted through the various stands, admiring the ripe selection at your fingertips.  Lifting an orange to your nose, you inhaled the citrusy scent and sighed contentedly.

All of a sudden, a shadow fell over your shoulder after someone came up behind you.  Flinching in surprise, you whirled around and dropped the orange.  It rolled across the ground and landed at none other than Rafe Cameron’s feet.  With a smirk, he knelt down to pick it up, extending it to you with gleaming eyes.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greeted, and you snatched the orange out of his hand.  Fuming with embarrassment and irritation, you dropped the orange into your woven produce bag and glared over at him.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” you demanded, crossing your arms.  You hated how he had taken you by surprise, and you also hated the flush that rose to your cheeks when he looked at you.

Rafe looked taken aback at your harsh tone, but recovered with a charming laugh.  “It’s a public farmer’s market, Y/N.”  He had his own bag of produce hanging off his shoulder, sure enough.

Scowling, you retorted, “What do you want?”  You didn’t feel like wasting time.  The sooner you could get away from Rafe the better.

“What’s wrong?  I thought you and I were becoming friends.”  He actually sounded a little hurt, but you tried not to let this affect you.  Rafe couldn’t be that stupid to think you wanted to be his friend after what he did to JJ.

He walked beside you as you continued strolling through the market, preferring to look at the fruit rather than his eyes.  “I thought we were too,” you told him.  “Until you almost killed my friend last night.”

Rafe stopped in his tracks, and reached out to grab your arm to stop you too.  Immediately wrenching your arm out of his grip, you glared at him as he threw his hands up in surrender.  “What are you talking about?  The fight was fair, and don’t you remember that my side lost?” 

You met Rafe’s eyes with a pointed look.  “Topper and Kelce may have lost, but you didn’t.  One more minute and JJ would’ve been in the hospital for a year.”  As you said this, memories of the fight burned across your mind and made you shudder.

Rafe frowned, and you couldn’t tell if he looked regretful.  You also remembered the way he looked at you before leaving, with slight guilt in his eyes, but you couldn’t detect any of that now.

“It’s not like JJ didn’t get any punches in,” he defended, pointing to his face.  It was then that you noticed the cut on his forehead, and a purple bruise on one of his cheeks.  You hadn’t seen these injuries before, and you took a second to take them in.  So I was wrong, you thought, biting your lip.  Maybe I was too harsh on him.

Shaking your head, you were determined to keep your resolve and not let Rafe break you.  “Still,” you murmured.  “You were brutal, Rafe.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes distant.  “He would’ve done the same to me if he could have, trust me.”

Again, he was right.  You knew JJ, and he’d left his enemies looking just as bad as he did after fighting Rafe.  Realizing Rafe was steadily disproving all of your arguments for being mad at him, you huffed.  How was he so good at that?  He was nearly impossible to hate.

Sensing your apprehension, Rafe sighed.  “Look, I’m not proud of what happened.  I didn’t even want to fight anyway, but I couldn’t just abandon Topper.”  When you still didn’t budge, he swallowed roughly, lowering his voice to just above a whisper.  “I’ve never been able to back down from a fight.  Ward, he...”  Rafe struggled to find the right words.  “He taught me that a fight is never over until you either win or die trying.  There’s no such thing as losing to him.”

This sent chills down your spine, and also a wave of sadness for the younger Rafe who had to grow up that way.  You couldn’t imagine the extreme difficulty of being Ward’s son, of not being allowed to be vulnerable or show weakness.  Rafe must have had a lot more issues because of this, and he’d alluded to them on the beach.  

Naturally, your sympathy for Rafe overtook your anger, and you let go of the frustration you’d harbored over him.  Giving him a stern look, you said, “Fine.  But next time, don’t kick a guy when he’s already down.”  JJ had lost the fight long before Rafe actually stopped hitting him, and he could’ve spared the blonde boy a few bruises and pains.

Rafe smiled in relief, and you liked the way he looked when he wasn’t so serious.  He was much more handsome this way.  With an enthusiastic voice, he declared, “Let me make it up to you.  Sarah and I are throwing a party tonight, and I want you to come.”

Raising your eyebrows disbelievingly, you asked, “You two are throwing a party?”  You couldn’t imagine Sarah doing anything with her brother that wasn’t arguing.

Chuckling, Rafe rubbed the back of his neck shyly.  “Alright, we’re not exactly throwing it.  It just happens to be taking place at our house, since Ward is going out of town for a few days.  Other than that, I have zero hosting duties.”  

Pursing your lips, you tried to think of an excuse not to go.  “I don’t know, Rafe.  What would I even talk to people about?  I’m not exactly a Kook.”

“Come on, Y/N.  Your dad plays golf with my dad every Sunday.  Your boat is docked three spots down from ours.  You have more in common than you think.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “It’s not my boat, it’s my father’s.”  

Rafe was refusing to let this go, however.  No excuse was good enough for him.  “Please?  I think you’ll have fun.  Besides, Sarah will be there so you can complain about how much you hate it with her.”  He looked so desperate for you to agree that you couldn’t help but smile.  Something about Rafe broke down all of your walls and banished every inhibition you had.  You couldn’t decide if you liked this trait of his or not.

“Fine, I’ll come.”  He pumped his fist, and you laughed, continuing your shopping.  Rafe accompanied you for the rest of your trip, even offering to walk you home.  But you firmly rejected this offer, threatening not to go to the party if he tried to walk you home.  You left him with a smile on your face and nervous energy in your heart.

Whenever you were dreading something, time tended to fly by.  Today was no different, and the hours flew past until it was time to get ready to leave for the party.  Even though things with Rafe had improved, you still did not feel like being around a bunch of Kooks for the night.  But you’d promised him, and if this friendship thing was serious you had to honor that promise.

You went through your entire closet before you settled on an outfit.  You settled on a pair of flowy shorts in a rusted pink color with a white crop top.  Sarah had bought this outfit with you, and she’d told you it accentuated all of your best features.  You threw it on over a stringy white bikini, and after over-analyzing your appearance in the mirror you gave up and just decided to leave.

From a block away you could hear the voices at the party.  Music was blaring through the balmy night air, and as you approached the Cameron’s house you could see hundreds of people milling around the property.  Your jaw dropping in disbelief, you felt a pang of anxiety at the sheer number of Kooks.  They were all expensively dressed and wearing judgmental expressions to match.  A group of girls whipped their heads over to gawk at you, and if looks could kill you’d be six feet under.

Walking through the yard, you wove through the crowd and avoided eye contact with the people around you.  Your sole mission was to find Sarah, because only she could make this nightmare tolerable.  But when you’d crossed the entire yard, even checking the inside of the house, there was no sign of her.  The lights in her room were off, and she was nowhere to be seen.

You were officially stranded here alone.

A thousand emotions swirled through your mind.  Humiliation, regret, slight irritation.  You were humiliated to be at a party completely alone, regretted even coming at all, and also felt massively irritated that Sarah had bailed.  But then your irritation shifted to Rafe, and a thought occurred to you.  Was Sarah even planning to come at all?  Or was that just a ploy by Rafe to convince you to come?

Seething with anger, you stormed back out, now changing your sights to try and find Rafe.  Luckily he was easy to spot, his tall frame towering over the other party-goers.  He caught your eye across the lawn, and broke into a wide smile.  He said something to the group he was with and then started towards you.

“Hey!  Look who showed up!”  His happiness was infectious, but you were so pissed it had no effect on you.  He picked up on your sour mood, smile faltering.  “What’s wrong?”

“Sarah isn’t here,” you snapped.  “I’m leaving.”  All you wanted was your warm bed and to sleep off the embarrassment you felt right now.  

Rafe sighed, pushing a hand through his gelled hair and messing it up slightly.  “Don’t go, please.  I’m sure Sarah will be here later, she’d never miss a party like this.”  His eyes were fixed on yours, holding your gaze with an electricity you couldn’t ignore.  “Besides, how am I supposed to make up for last night if you leave now?”

You narrowed your eyes.  “Sarah is coming later?” you reiterated, making sure he wasn’t bluffing again.  

Rafe nodded.  “Like I said, she loves parties.”

Once again, you couldn’t find any good argument against him.  He was annoyingly triumphant in most of these situations, and you rolled your eyes at him.  Rafe took this as a victory, and placed a hand on your back before leading you through the crowd of people.

“Let’s get you a drink, yeah?  Being drunk makes these things ten times better.”  He stopped at a makeshift bar setup, and grabbed a solo cup before filling it with mysterious liquid.  When he handed it to you, you saw an odd red colored mixture and sniffed it hesitantly.  It smelled strongly of alcohol, but also had a fruity tang.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, unsure of what the concoction could be.

Rafe smiled proudly.  “It’s my signature.  Half vodka and half whatever fruity seltzer we have in the fridge.  Tastes amazing, and also gets you drunk without the awful taste of regular vodka.”  

Shrugging, you took a long sip, and Rafe whistled approvingly.  “Damn, you’re really trying to get drunk, huh?”

You shook your head.  “I’m the opposite of a lightweight.  It takes a lot to actually get me hammered.”

“Oh, well then drink up.”  Rafe poured himself a cup, and you toasted the solo cups with a laugh.  Now that you weren’t wandering around alone, you were actually sort of enjoying yourself.  But after a minute, you noticed people staring at you, and the group Rafe had abandoned to talk to you looked annoyed at his absence.

You bit your lip.  “Um, Rafe,” you started, causing him to look over at you.  His blue eyes shocked you as always, and you blushed.  “You don’t have to stay and talk to me.  I’m sure you’d rather be with your friends, I’m just a drag.”

He looked shocked that you’d even say that.  “What are you talking about?  I’m not hanging out with you out of obligation.”  At your doubtful shrug, he sighed.  “You know what?  You’re gonna come meet my friends.”  He grabbed your hand, leading you once again through the throng of people.

Panic striking you, you stuttered out, “Rafe, I don’t think that’s a good--”  But it was too late; you’d reached his group of friends.  You recognized Topper and Kelce, and forced a pinched smile.  They both sported black eyes and multiple bruises, not to mention glares pointed directly at you.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Rafe introduced, and a few of them nodded or muttered greetings.  He went around and said half a dozen names you knew you wouldn’t remember, but you smiled at them anyway.  Rafe was right next to you, and you found yourself almost leaning into him as a shield.  The proximity was closer than you’d ever been, and you got a whiff of his expensive cologne.

The group started chattering about something you only sort of paid attention to.  Instead, you focused mainly on observing Topper and Kelce.  You figured it was a good idea to get to know Rafe’s best friends if you wanted to be friends with him.  Over the course of the conversation, your view of both of them changed.  You realized Topper was more pathetic than anything; he actually cared about Sarah, and missed her like crazy.  This made him easier to understand in your head, and the dislike you held for him before was replaced by pity.  Kelce didn’t change much for you, just confirmed that he was a meathead with little else going for him.  He didn’t have any original thoughts, always trailing behind Rafe or Topper and doing whatever they wanted.

You attempted to listen to the conversation for a little while longer, until you were so bored you couldn’t stand it anymore.  Leaning over to whisper into Rafe’s ear, you said, “I’m gonna go see if Sarah is here yet.”  You smiled warmly at him, hoping he could see you actually appreciated his effort to incorporate you into the group.

Wandering around again wasn’t any more enjoyable this time.  You still felt ostracized from the other Kooks, like you didn’t belong here with them.  An hour must have passed of just aimlessly searching for Sarah, and by the time you gave up it was so late at night you realized Sarah probably wasn’t going to come at all.

Which meant Rafe had lied to you.

Once you made this realization, the anger you’d overcome earlier resurfaced.  Why the hell would he lie about this?  Did he just want to lure you here for his friends to mock and make fun of?  What was the point of making you feel like an outsider, other than to hurt you?  Friends didn’t pull stunts like this.

You stormed towards the pool, heading straight for Rafe who stood beside it talking to his friends.  When he saw you approach he grinned, but this expression quickly changed when he read the anger in your eyes

“Y/N--”

“Why did you lie about Sarah coming?” you interrupted furiously.  “Why would you drag me to this stupid party if you knew I would be alone and miserable?  I mean, did you want me to feel like shit?”

Rafe looked completely stupefied.  He opened his mouth, but no words came out he was so speechless.  You glowered at him, cheeks heating up as you felt the stares of everyone else on your face.

“Well?” you insisted.  Rafe looked more confused than ever, and you rolled your eyes.  At this moment, Topper stepped out next to Rafe.

“Relax, Y/N, you don’t have to make a scene.”  He reached out to touch your shoulder, and you flinched away from his touch.  But this sudden movement caused you to lose balance, and you felt yourself tripping backwards.  

Before you knew what was happening, your body hit the pool.  Ice cold water cascaded over your head, and your arms floundered desperately under the surface.  You reemerged a second later, but you were soaked to the bone and came up to the sounds of hysterical laughter.  Rubbing the water out of your eyes, you saw Topper and the others snickering at your clumsiness, with Rafe staring down at you just as clueless as before.

He recovered quickly though, and extended a hand to help you out.  You grabbed it angrily, and he hauled you out of the pool.

“Y/N, I am so sorry--”

You didn’t wait around to hear his apology,  Instead, you stormed out of the crowd and headed away from the house, trying to ignore the mocking laughter behind you.

The beach seemed to be the place you always went to at times like this.  The waves were calm again tonight, and despite the freezing pool water drenching your clothes the air was warm with summer heat.  You stopped beside a long wooden beach chair with padded cushions, discarding your wet shorts and shirt.  You folded the soggy fabric and left them by the chair along with your shoes, leaving you in just the bikini you’d put on before coming.

In order to work off your anger and dry off your body, you started on a walk down the shore.  It was peaceful at this hour, and you eventually walked far enough from the party to be in total silence.  Normally you’d let your thoughts run rampant right now, but tonight you didn’t want to think about anything.  You especially didn’t want to think about Rafe.  He’d genuinely hurt you, and for the second time in a matter of days.  No matter how sincere he seemed in the aftermath, this humiliation was overpowering.

You must have walked for miles, because the stretch of beach became unfamiliar and prompted you to turn around.  By the time you neared where you left your clothes, you were exhausted and drained from feeling upset.  You were so tired in fact that you didn’t notice someone sitting in the beach chair until they spoke.

“I thought you left.”  Rafe’s voice was soft and timid, worried you’d yell at him again.  You just paused beside him, folding your arms across your exposed chest.

“Why would I leave when my clothes are still here?” you said pointedly, and Rafe nodded in defeat.  He was quiet, clearly picking up on your mood.  You almost appreciated this gesture, if he wasn’t the person who’d ruined your mood to begin with.

Glancing at his house in the distance, you saw the lights were off and the sound of voices had ceased.  The party had finished by the time you returned from your walk, which meant it was just Rafe around.

He was laying across the big chair clad only in board shorts, his exposed torso gleaming in the moonlight.  His gaze was directed towards the sky, face peaceful.

Wanting to fill the silence, you asked, “Why are you out here?  Aren’t you tired from the party?”

Rafe shook his head.  “Nah, I’ll be up for hours.  I just came out here to look at the stars.”

You snorted.  “How cute,” you commented, but when you realized he was serious you regretted your jab.  Rafe shifted aside on the chair and patted a space by his knees for you to sit.  Tentatively, you settled there and gazed up at the stars as well.

“I’ve always loved astronomy,” he admitted.  “I think it’s so cool that there’s so much else out there.  Kind of makes everything down here seem insignificant.”

You furrowed your brow.  “That’s morbid.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know, it’s sort of comforting.  Like, however shitty things are here, that’s not how it is everywhere.”  This made you turn your gaze to him, frowning.  You wondered if he was referring to Ward, and you sensed you were right when he couldn’t meet your eyes.

A minute passed, and then Rafe said, “I really am sorry.”  His words were genuine, and tried to let them sink in.  It didn’t make up entirely for tonight, but it helped.

Sliding your eyes along his face, you saw something flit across his eyes.  The air suddenly filled with tension, and you found it hard to breathe with his gaze so fixated on you.  Your body almost felt a magnetic pull towards his, and when he rested his arms on the edge of the chair you hitched your breath.

Without even thinking, you swung your legs over and shifted your body until you were settled between his legs.  Your head leaned back against his chest, his chin resting just by your ear.  Having his warm skin under yours felt beyond good, and his arms encircled you to rest by your waist. 

You laid together like this for a while, neither of you saying anything.  Your hands drifted up his arms, absently feeling him as he breathed against the back of your neck.  Occasionally he’d lift his hand to point out a star pattern, and when you tilted your head to see it you rested against his shoulder.

While you looked at the sky, Rafe looked at you.  Turning your head to the side, you realized how close your faces were and parted your lips.  Even in the dark his blue eyes were striking.  You held your breath, anticipating his next move.

And when it came, you rejoiced inside.  Rafe leaned forward to connect your lips, his mouth warm and gentle.  You accepted the kiss gratefully, molding against him and twisting slightly so you could bring a hand to his cheek.  His tongue swiped out across your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to grant him entrance.  Your tongues pushed against one another, deepening the kiss and making your head grow fuzzy.

Tearing his lips from yours, Rafe moved down your jaw and to your neck.  You faced forward again, watching as his hands slid up your abdomen.  His fingers found the ties to your bathing suit top, and in one swift movement he undid them.  The white bikini fell out of place, your breasts exposed to the warm night air.  

Breathing hard, you felt Rafe’s hands skim across your breasts, making your nipples harden into peaks.  His fingers were rough against your skin, and when his thumbs grazed your nipples you exhaled softly.  His lips worked the side of your neck, sponging kisses there while his hands were at your chest.

Waves of pleasure drifted through your body, and your lips hung open in a wordless gasp.  Rafe pinched your nipples lightly, causing you to arch your back against him.  As you did this, you felt something hard pressing into your back, and realized it was his firm length through his shorts.  You continued to grind your hips slowly against his, and his breathing increased by your ear.

“Y/N,” he breathed, making your eyes roll back.  He gave your breasts a firm squeeze, and you raised one hand to touch his cheek.  You were breathing erratically now, and this only increased when he removed his hands from your chest and moved them downwards, towards the pool of moisture already collecting in your bathing suit bottoms.

His fingers dipped below the band, his fingers shockingly cool against your hot skin.  You tensed up when you felt him right where you needed him, and when his lips kissed your ear you exhaled.

And then his middle finger pressed into your clit, causing a moan to tumble from your mouth.  He’d barely touched you and you were already putty in his hands.  Rafe started circling his finger, and you couldn’t control the sounds leaving your throat.

“Yes,” you released, crying out when he dragged across your slick entrance.  “Rafe.” you moaned his name, and a gentle growl rumbled in his throat behind you.

Rafe’s fingers worked expertly against you.  He focused entirely on your clit, knowing exactly what to do to drive your senses wild.  The bundle of nerves was going haywire under his hand, and your hips ground into his palm to try and increase friction.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise across your skin.  “Do I make you feel good, baby?”  The nickname made you moan again, you brought a hand to roughly squeeze your breast.

Rafe quickened his movements, and your legs were shaking from the sheer pleasure.  When he pinched your clit, you knew you were done for.  An orgasm exploded in your abdomen, and you cried out in ecstasy, tensing against his hand and whining his name.

“Rafe,” you panted, resting your cheek against his chest.  His lips pressed into the top of your head, and you watched him bring his hand out of your bikini bottoms to his lips.  He licked off your moisture, and the sight drove you absolutely crazy.

Slowly flipping over so your chest was against his, you dove in to give him another kiss.  Rafe eagerly reciprocated, spreading his fingers across your back and pulling you close.  But you broke away from the kiss after a second, holding his gaze as you moved down his body.  His mouth hung open while he watched, and when you reached his waist he swallowed.

Slowly, you brought your hand up over his clothed cock.  Rafe jerked at the subtle movement, and you smiled.  You palmed his mound again, licking your lips in preparation.  You wanted to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.

When you were about to pull down his shorts, a voice broke through the silence.

“Rafe?  Are you out there?”

It was Sarah.  Panic flared in your chest, and you pressed yourself as far into Rafe as you could to stay out of view.  He was panting by now, distracted by your body on his and the erection in his pants.

“I’m coming in a second,” he called out.  The distant sound of departing footsteps told you she was gone, and you then scrambled down off the chair and into the sand.  It sounded like Sarah had left, but you didn’t want to take any chances.  

Rafe sat up quickly, blowing out a sigh and running a hand through his tousled hair.  He looked worked up, and still very much hard.  But you ignored him as you pulled your shorts on, retying your bikini top and putting on your shirt.  

“Y/N,” he began, but once you slid into your shoes you wasted no time in running off of the beach, not even bothering to say goodbye.

~ ~ ~

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