#i need to watch something lighter to recover

[ontarom]

Finally watched "Last Exit To Brooklyn". I postponed watching it because I got the feeling that it was going to be tough to watch. And oh boy, it was.

[highvern]

Work Me Out

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!

Length: ~5k

Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]

to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.

@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them. 

So you go as late as possible. 

Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.

Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.

Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.

Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.

You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.

And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.

He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone. 

But that doesn’t last long.

“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial. 

“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”

Yes.

“No, I can find something else to do.” 

You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”

So that’s where he went.

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch. 

Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.

He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.

You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back. 

“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.

“Three forty? Ouch.”

“What? Should I have made it lighter?”

“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”

“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.

This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is. 

And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.

When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And he’s gone.

Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat? 

And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.

Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.

Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.

His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.

When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week. 

What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips. 

And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.

Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit. 

Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.

No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.

Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.

“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”

My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….

There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.

Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary. 

But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.

And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.

“Shit,” you grunt. 

Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”

“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.

“Sorry, let me just…”

The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.

“Fuck!” 

“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.

“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh…”

“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“

The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”

“God, you’re gross.” 

Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.

“Sticks and stones,” he hums.

“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”

When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.

“Or we can go back to mine.”

He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.

From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?

The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.

“Yeah, okay.” 

With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s. 

All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.

Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up. 

People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this. 

A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.

Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.

“Ugh, this is it.” 

His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.

Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?” 

Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.

“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”

“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.

“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.

“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”

“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”

Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.

“Wanna give me the tour?”

Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold. 

“Why are you over there?” You ask.

With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.

“I’m nervous.”

You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”

Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”

“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.

Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”

Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.

“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”

Oh.

“We don’t hav—”

“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”

You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”

Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.

Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.

He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck. 

“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth. 

Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.

He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.

“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.

You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”

He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.

Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.

Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.

You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.” 

Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.

Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.

He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”

“Give me another and it will.”

You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.  

Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.

Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.

You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.

He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.

“Sensitive?”

Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.

The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.

Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.

“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.

You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.

A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.

He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.

You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.

His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.

“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.

It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.

The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”

Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.

“Want it like this?”

“Yeah.”

You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.

The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.

No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”

Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.

“Don’t say that.”

You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.

“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager. 

“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”

You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.

Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half. 

“Harder,” you beg.

Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.

“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.

His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.

A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.

Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.

“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”

He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.

“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”

The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.

Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.

The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.

You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.

When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.

Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?

“Bathroom.”

Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.

He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case. 

And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[mariposa-writes]

Tears of Joy

Pairing: Captain John Price x wife!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Overview: John thinks you're pregnant, you don't agree.

CW: infertility, self blame, angst to fluff, john being an amazing husband

Author's Note: Please repost, comment, and like. It means the world to me! Let me know what you think and if there are any corrections i need to make. It's like 3am so I'm sure I messed up somewhere lol

Part 2

Price held your hair back, hand rubbing your back as you threw up in the toilet.  This was the third morning in a row that you’d woken up and ran straight to the bathroom. After you’d brushed your teeth and took a shower you meet your husband John in the kitchen.

You scrunched your nose, “What’s that smell?” You asked, trying to figure out what John was cooking.

“Eggs and bacon.” He said as he placed a plate in front of you. You looked at it with uncertainty, before pushing it away from you. “Not hungry, sorry.” You mumbled, not wanting to hurt John’s feelings after he made you breakfast.

Truthfully the thought of eating right now made you nauseous. Which was weird considering you loved eggs and bacon. Actually you loved all things breakfast, you could eat breakfast for every meal.

It was one of the things John loved about you. “Do you want me to make you something else?” John asked, worry apparent in his eyes.

You could always figure out how John was feeling just by looking at his eyes. He showed more than he realized, and after being married for three years it was easy to read him.

You sighed, shacking your head no. “I think I’m just gonna go lay down, I’m still not feeling well.” You got up from the table, placing a kiss on John’s cheek before heading for your shared bedroom.

John watched you retreat to your room. He was starting to get more worried by the day. He found it odd that you were sick, considering that you never got sick. He’d known you for 5 years and only once had you come down with the flu and even then you pushed through, not letting it stop you. Until he basically forced you to rest and give your body time to recover.

He ran a hand down his face, not wanting to think about what could be wrong. After he cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher he went to lay down with you. 

You were curled up in bed, as he climbed in next to you. Molding his body to yours, and pulling you close. His arm around your stomach. You nestled into him even more, just wanting to be close to your husband.

He traced patterns into your arm as you worked on falling asleep. “Babe?” He questioned unsure if you were asleep.

You hummed, letting him know that you were listening. “Do you think you could be pregnant?” He was hesitant to bring up the question, but it was eating away at him as he laid there with you.

“No.” You answered, already wanting the conversation to be over. You should’ve pretended to be asleep.

“When was the last time you had your period.”

You shrugged your shoulders, ever since you were a teen your period had been irregular. Your gyno had warned you that it might mess with your fertility, making it harder to have kids in the future. You’d warned John when you’d gotten together and again when things got more serious.

He told you that it didn’t matter as long as he had you. 

Despite all that it didn’t make it any easier, every time you had to look at a negative pregnancy test. You knew John wanted and family and so did you and no matter how much John reassured you that it wasn’t your fault and he was fine with it just being the two of you it didn’t help lessen the sting. 

After a while John started to notice the toll it was taking on you. After every negative you seemed to lose more and more of the light that shined in your eyes. He hated seeing how you seemed to be deteriorating no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

Eventually the two of you stopped buying pregnancy tests and dropped the subject all together. It’d been almost a year since you last took a test and John noticed how you seemed lighter without the subject hanging over you head.

“What if you just take one test?” John suggested. You heaved out a breath throwing the covers off of you.

“No, nothings going to change. It’s going to be negative.” He could tell you were growing irritated. He could tell you just wanted to drop the subject, but something about this time felt different. He had hope which was something he hadn’t had in a quite some time.

“Where are you going?” He asked, getting up to follow.

“A walk.” You said as you slipped on your shoes and a hoodie. “Don’t follow me.” You said before slamming the front door shut. 

You knew it wasn’t fair to John, but you hadn’t thought about having a child in a long time. You’d given up on the idea. You knew it was just as hard for John, but he wasn’t the one that had to feel like a failure every time a test came back negative. 

He never blamed you, but it didn’t matter. You blamed yourself and that was enough. Even the doctors said everything was fine, when John insisted on getting his sperm count checked. 

You were the problem, you were the reason you would never have a family.

John should’ve married someone that could’ve given him children, not you. You were standing in the way of his dreams.

These were the thoughts that made it difficult to get through the day. You felt bad for being rude to John, but sometimes it was easier to avoid the problem than confront it head on. 

You finally returned to the house once it started to drizzle. John was waiting on the porch swing, making sure you got back okay. 

He didn’t say anything as you entered the house, deciding to stay put and give you your space. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew that sometimes you liked to deal with stuff on your own and when you were ready you would come to him.

A few minutes later the door was opening. You handed him a container with yellow liquid in it. “Here.” You handed him the container.

“Are you sure?”

“No, but if it’s negative don’t tell me and don’t bring the test in the house and after this I don’t want you to bring it up again. I’m sorry for being rude earlier, but it just hurts to much.” He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into his chest.

“Thank you baby, I love you no matter what.” He kissed you, “You know that right?”

“I know, I love you too. Now go.” You said ushering him off the porch. As much as you tried not to get your hopes up, you secretly hoped he’d tell you the results. You hoped he’d bring the test into the house and you hoped he’d get to bring up the subject again.

You were in the living room, tidying up while trying to keep your mind busy when John returned. You didn’t even have time to process that he was home before he was picking you up and spinning you in a circle.

He had the biggest smile on his face as he kissed you. Butterflies appeared in your stomach, you didn’t even have to ask if the test was positive. You could tell by his reaction, the whole world would be able to tell if they were watching the two of you. After what felt like hours he set you down, his arms still holding you close to him.

“It was positive.” He beamed, as he stared down at you. The smile he had on his face might’ve beat the one he had on your wedding day. You didn’t even have time to respond, before his lips were on yours again.

You hadn’t felt this happy in such a long time and it was like this weight was instantly lifted off your chest. He kissed you over and over again, before breaking away. “Oh my god, I have to tell the team!” He was so giddy that it made you want to cry.

The pure joy radiating off of him, brought tears to your eyes. “Wait, why are you crying?” He asked, instantly becoming worried. He wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know, I’m not sad. I’m happy, so happy.” This time you kissed him, bring him down to your level. You pulled back, “They’re tears of joy.” You laughed.

This right here was everything you ever wanted.

[i8h0on]

is it over now? — yang jungwon

synopsis: after being gone for a year, y/n returns to her hometown, seoul. with the aim of recovering her lover, jungwon, she takes the risk of going to a party with her best friend. is her love lost forever?

genre: angst, literally

warnings: lots of swearing. mentions of alcohol, sex & smoking.

word count: 7.5k

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

I COMBED MY HAIR for the twentieth time that night, trying to disguise the frizz starting to build up in my long, black hair.

the big white clock on the glittery wall of my small room read 8:30 p.m, and nari, my best friend, hadn't made an appearance at the front door, lacking even her usual honk – a playful annoyance i had come to expect. that only meant one thing: she was too busy swallowing heeseung's mouth to remember to pick me up.

gazing into the mirror, i observed my precarious false eyelashes, a skill i'd mastered over time, now unstable, poised to detach. the subtle pink gloss on my lips was barely distinguishable from the natural color of them, and my blush made me look like i'd been slapped in the face. god, when did i get so bad at makeup?

reminiscing, i once held the title of sephora's most loyal customer, just as i dominated every store that tested my mom's credit card limits. however, that was all before she whisked me across the country. precisely one year ago, i hastily packed everything, boarding the first train to busan – akin to a real refugee. was it foolish? perspectives vary. the optimal choice? perhaps not. regret? not in the slightest.

my mother took me to a small village in the hills, where people didn't live so much with materialistic things and the atmosphere was more conservative. my appearance, in turn, was much lighter and more natural while i lived there. that’s probably why now i couldn’t even use a bronzer without looking stupid. it seemed that all the beauty tricks i had learned from vogue had gone down the drain.

i was too focused on correcting my dark circles with concealer when a sharp, deafening horn blared through the house, causing me to shake completely at the sudden sound and nearly go blind from the concealer that had stuck to my eye. nari, that bastard. she knew what she was doing.

— tell her i'm coming! — i shouted downstairs with no response.

i hurriedly grabbed my bag, put everything i thought i needed into it, put on my coat, took one more look in the mirror and flew out the door.

when i got to the living room, i saw my younger sister, iseul, propped up on the big mint-colored sofa munching on chips and watching "the penthouse" for the twenty-fourth time. this 14-year-old brat never did anything at home.

— could you, hum, for the first time in your life, be useful for something other than finishing off my chips? — i warned her. the youngest just gave me a debauched, childish look.

— you've been back for less than 24 hours and you already want to be the housewife?! relax, sis. — the audacity!

— when mom sees this greasy sofa, i want to see who's going to relax. — i hastily closed the door. i knew very well that my mother would go crazy when she saw it. the chips weren't even hers, dammit.

iseul had always been a cheeky child, but i never thought that a year away would make her any worse. she was impossible to live with, and i hadn't even spent that much time with her since i arrived, but it was enough to find her unbearable.

i ran over to nari's car, the black hyundai was still exactly the same, although it had a few more scratches than usual. nari loved to go on adventures, she was crazy.

i opened the car door and the familiar smell of vanilla filled my nostrils. so many memories in this car, my god. it seems like yesterday that my first drink ended in vomit on these very seats, there's still a little brown stain on them. and that time we ran afoul of the police for attempted trespassing? that was definitely the best, don't ask me why. we were very angry and annoying teenagers, at least under the influence of alcohol.

— y/n, my love, how i've missed you! — nari practically swallowed me up in a tight, cozy hug, and i don't know how she didn't break her back the way she squirmed all over the front seat. i hugged her even tighter, i missed her so much. we talked every day by facetime during the time i was away, but nothing matched having my best friend in the flesh by my side. i had been looking forward to this moment for months.

i met jeong nari in the first year of elementary school, when before she was the best-known girl in the school, she was still the girl that wore glitter elastics and bottle-bottom glasses. she helped me rebuild my sandcastle when a stupid older boy destroyed it with his footsteps, and we've been inseparable ever since. nari was the funniest girl i knew, it was impossible not to burst out laughing when i was next to her. even in the worst, most inconvenient situations, i would piss myself laughing whenever she opened her mouth.

she was the kind of girl who didn't need to make an effort for people to like her, who attracted attention even without any intentions. unlike most of the snobbish girls at my school, who tried to make it to the top by being cheap copies of regina george, nari stood out for being the most generous, fun person ever. she could go to school in a sweatshirt and bobsponge pants and easily still be the prettiest girl there. when you needed her, she was just there. always there. that's why she was so well-known, so loved. she was a ray of sunshine in such a dark city. there wasn't a single day that i didn't admire her, she was the best person ever. the spotlight was always on her face, her gorgeous face. not only was she popular, she was also extremely intelligent, her place at seoul university was already guaranteed. she really had it all, she was everything.

and i... well, you could say i was just... there. unlike jeong, i was the most sociably awkward girl seoul high had. not that i was an 80-year-old who spent her free time reading books in the living room in front of the chimney, not at all. i was just...me. although most of my senior year knew who y/n was, i was mostly known "nari's friend". not that it bothered me at all! i loved going unnoticed, living my life quietly and not having my name on everyone's lips every weekend. that is, with the exception of this one, for obvious reasons. "nari's friend is back in busan after 1 year completely missing" will be in the local papers, if you doubt it.

— i missed you too, girl. — i kissed her on the cheek as i undid the hug, not even remembering that heeseung was watching the intimate moment. — hi to you too, man. — i smiled slightly while we shaked our hands.

— it's good to see you again, y/n. — he said, smiling. lee heeseung was the classic heartthrob from every cliché movie, easily having all the girls in the world at his feet with a wink. the perfect match for nari, literally. i'm not sure how the two of them met, i've only been told that another friend of ours introduced them and since then they've been stuck together with permanent glue. cute. too cute.

i snuggled into the seat, preparing myself for the short journey. we were going to my supposed welcome party, according to nari herself. but in reality, i knew it was just another of jay's weekend parties at his luxurious mansion, and they'd taken the opportunity to stick me there. seriously, there weren't even enough people who knew me to fill a party in a house that size. but i was grateful for the attempt.

i spent the whole trip gossiping with my best friend, and surprisingly heeseung, about my boring and uninteresting life in busan for the whole year. unlike normal teenagers, who used to have the best experiences of their lives when they went to another city or abroad, i had nothing. as always, my life was so boring. the most exciting story i had was when i had to chase a flock of sheep down a mountain and almost died. wow. they couldn't even hide how sorry they were that my year had been so bad, even though nari made hilarious jokes about my misfortune. they also gave me all the updates about our (un)loved classmates, and no chance that yerim from english class was pregnant?! and that miyeong had cheated on her boyfriend with her neighbor?! i swear, my school was definitely not normal. about three hundred rich, snobbish teenagers together in one place, who even thought that would be a good idea? every week there was a new scandal, it was pure chaos.

another ten minutes or so and we arrived at the park house, music blaring from inside. i was always impressed by jay's ability to convince his neighbors, all of whom were just old men who surely went to bed at eight o'clock at night, not to call the police. when i was little, even using my little ukulele in the garage at four in the afternoon caused problems. having money has its advantages, i guess. we all got out of the car after nari parked.

— now, let me look at you properly, girl. — nari picked me up and spun me around like a doll, making me dizzy with so many pirouettes. — oh god, you look so gorgeous!

and look at that ass! have you been exercising, like… mountain climbing? — she joked, making me turn redder than i already was with that ridiculous blush. while she thought i was hot, i thought i was a bit fat, but i would never confess that out loud.

she looked at me like a proud mother, as if i were her baby who had just taken her first steps or said her first word. she was just like that, more dramatic than usual. — seriously y/n, you look more beautiful than ever. — the girl repeated, and if i didn't know better, i'd swear that her teary eyes were real. i didn't understand what all the compliments were about, after all, i didn't look very stunning. i wasn't wearing anything extravagant or attention-grabbing. i was wearing a black mini skirt, which was almost not mini at all, a white corset that was almost crushing my bones, and a black leather jacket. the most basic outfit you could wear for a night out. there must have been at least ten girls in the same outfit as me in there. probably more attractive, but still.

i even tried to dress up a bit more and try to look more attractive, but the sequined dress made me look like a mirrorball, not to mention all the other dresses i tried on and they all made me look like what i did best: pathetic. i just gave up on the idea, preferring to go in a more comfortable way. well, apart from the fact that i wasn't very comfortable. but if i really came the way i wanted, i'd be laughed at. who would wear a minnie sweatshirt to a party? one way or another, as soon as i stepped inside that mansion, i was going to seriously regret my fashion decisions by comparing myself to the other girls, it was something habitual already. i didn't even have to go in, because the dress nari was wearing, which made her look like a real angel, made me regret ever coming. i was just...me, again. at least my clothes were good, but they weren't outstanding, like always.

i breathed heavily as we headed for the door, nervousness taking over my body once again. y/n, it was just a fucking party. a party that, by the way, didn't even focus on me. all i needed to do for the next few hours was smile and pretend that my months away had actually been interesting. as i was the most awkward girl ever, it certainly wasn't going to end well.

heeseung opened the big door, and the music that was already blaring throughout the condominium just blared in my ears, making me almost deaf. i walked down the long corridor with great difficulty, having to apologize every time i took a step for accidentally bumping into someone. for god's sake, there were at least a thousand people there. how could a place full of hormonal teenagers, dripping with sweat and with disgusting alcohol breath, attract anyone? well, i couldn't answer, because i only knew the answer when i was already under the influence of shots of vodka. while the alcohol wasn't injecting itself into my veins, which was when i become a completely different person, i just sat on the sofa, waiting for someone to talk to. i only became sociable under the influence of alcohol, something i started using to try not to be so introverted. needless to say, it went horribly wrong; i even had my stomach pumped. my parents still won't talk about it. fair enough.

i sighed heavily for the thirtieth time inside that house, when we passed the death row and saw someone we knew. it was none other than park sunghoon, one of heeseung's best friends and also one of the best ice skaters in high school. as well as being talented, he was also very attractive, although his jokes were never funny. we hardly ever exchanged a word, only in biology lessons from time to time, when he didn't know what page was in the book. apart from these interactions, i rarely spoke to him, but we had many friends in common.

— nari, heeseung. — the tall boy announced, greeting the two as if they were great partners. i mean, they really were, i just wasn't aware of his sudden closeness to my best friend. he looked at me, as if i were some kind of exotic animal he'd never seen before, and smiled after a while. — y/n, i see you're back. did you like boston?! — he said in a calm voice, barely able to understand his words in all the noise.

— busan, i went to busan. — i said out loud. boston?! for heaven's sake. he looked at me, his pupils more dilated than the milky way. well, at least he hadn't changed one bit. even though i wasn't his friend, all the students at seoul high knew about sunghoon's love for weed. and it was clear to see. he started laughing at himself. — yes, that's it, busan... did you like it?

i forced a smile, trying not to look unpleasant. — you have no idea. — he nodded, even though i was sure he hadn't heard a word i'd said. but it was okay, he seemed too drugged to understand, or drunk. i felt sorry for his stomach. and for him too, the next day he was going to wake up with a head heavier than a stone.

he exchanged a few more words with lee and disappeared like dust into the crowd, leaving the three of us alone again. nari approached me.

— hee and i are going to talk to the basketball team, do you want to come? — i tried my best to understand, the seoul accent not helping my thinking. the basketball team, although good at what they did, were too noisy for my liking. when they weren't disturbing everyone's class with the noise of their balls on the court, they were making a complete mess of the school corridors.

— no thanks sweetie, i'll be fine here. — i lied. no, i wouldn't be fine over there. i hardly knew anyone, not well enough to hang out at a party for a while. i wasn't even planning on drinking that night.

— are you sure?

— yes, don't worry, i'll call you. — i reassured her. did i even have a battery in my phone? i didn't even bother to check it before i left the house, what a responsible daughter i was.

she just smiled at me, probably tired of screaming in my ear, and the couple disappeared. i was completely alone now. i looked around. rihanna's "don't stop the music" was blasting everywhere, while all i could see was people rubbing up against each other. gross. i preferred to leave that pornographic scene and headed for the kitchen. well, at least the kitchen i remembered being in the house. i'd be pretty screwed if he'd changed the rooms.

i was hoping that the situation would ease up a bit in the kitchen, but it was the same, if not worse. people making out, kegs of beer in every corner, drinking games, some questionable attitudes, just another normal night in this house. i headed for the sink, where i hoped to find fresh water, which was all i needed at the moment. i don't know if i needed a glass or a whole barrel of it, but i definitely needed it. i filled a plastic cup, which was certainly covered in sexually transmitted diseases or questionable fluids, with water. i drank it in two seconds, not even realizing how thirsty i was.

i was about to put the second glass in my mouth when someone spoke up next to me.

— y/n. — someone spoke, and i immediately recognized that voice as more annoying than my algebra teacher. it was nishimura ri-ki, my seatmate. the most annoying person on this planet, universe if you ask me.

— in flesh and blood. — i tried to sound as nonchalant as possible with my answer, certainly failing. ri-ki was not only the most annoying person in the world, but also the most chatty. his soul was like that of a gossipy old lady, always talking. if she even said anything at all, it was only to pick on me.

— i can see my daily rest is over. — he said in a tone that was too sarcastic for my liking. i raised an eyebrow.

— i beg your pardon? who spends all their lessons talking about their lego cars instead of paying attention? — i asked, intrigued. he just laughed, something that wasn't very common in our regular conversations.

— that never happened. — he said resolutely. of course, it never happened. just as it never happened that he almost got kicked out of class for painting his fingernails. it definitely never happened.

— yes, ri-ki, that never happened. — he looked at me strangely, i probably looked crazy. his expression softened, and he quickly walked away with a slight smile.

— enjoy the party.

did nishimura ri-ki just smile at me? not to make fun of me, or laugh at my misfortune? boy, things were different around here. very different. i decided not to make a big deal out of it, i just assumed he was drunk too. i leaned against the bar and looked around, anxious for the time to leave.

i was bored, trying to recognize the faces around me, which by the way were all the same, despite slight changes, like how wonyoung was blonde or how jeno had stopped wearing his glasses. strange. i analyzed every corner of the room, remembering everyone who was there. i knew all the details of their lives, but they didn't even know my surname if they were lucky. if i hadn't become friends with nari, i probably wouldn't even be allowed in here…but god must have blessed me, he knew i'd been through enough humiliation. but it was still a bit of a shame. sitting on a balcony completely alone while everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives wasn't much fun, nor was it new. it happened almost all the time, especially when i didn't have nari to distract me.

i was about to fall asleep leaning against the fridge when something caught my attention. in a far corner was a large group of boys, probably athletes due to the width of their shoulders. just like everyone else in there, they were getting drunk and definitely laughing out loud at something that shouldn't even be funny. it was a huge group, about 15 guys. i watched each one, fully remembering everyone. they were almost all part of jay, sunghoon and heeseung's group, which, by the way, was the most popular in high school. surprise? i don't think so. it was too clichéd, it felt like i was in a cheap version of high school musical. i'd like to believe that i was gabriella, but deep down i know that i was just an extra in other people's lives.

jesus, even that boy who barely opened his mouth, lee sohee, seemed to be integrating very well into that circle of friends. and soobin... hadn't he been transferred? i needed to catch up on the gossip urgently.

nothing was catching my eye apart from the large hickey on one of their necks, which didn't shock me at all, until i laid eyes on one of them.

suddenly, it felt like an electric charge all over my body, every hair standing on end. my heart, which was already heavy, accelerated to its maximum, bringing me close to a heart attack. it was like losing all the strength in my muscles at once, only not collapsing thanks to the support of the wall behind me. my lungs were deprived of air, causing me to gasp within seconds. it wasn't just any teenager, it was him.

his eyes met mine, and i could have sworn that for the tiniest second, the whole house fell silent. as if all the walls had shrunk and were crushing both my body and my soul. it was really him.

yang jungwon.

even in that dark crowd, i could see his features perfectly. my god, he looked exactly the same. perhaps a little darker, but it was still him. completely him. not an evil twin or a trick of my own mind, it was him. beautiful as always. my heart almost leapt out of my mouth when his smile fell as soon as he noticed me, as if i had sucked up all the happiness. well, i technically did. not at that moment, perhaps, but definitely a year ago, when i disappeared without a trace. when i left him hanging outside my house for hours, while i was already in another city. when i didn't answer any more of his messages. when i literally took his pure heart and shattered it into a thousand pieces.

the eye contact, which made me sick, only lasted a few seconds, as he immediately turned to his friends. but it was enough to make my emotions run wild. the regret of being there only tripled, i was about to throw up. all the memories of my actions were turning my stomach, it felt like i'd drunk a whole barrel of beer.

the world was about to collapse, i needed to get out of there urgently. i rushed outside, disoriented by the huge halls. i didn't even care about bumping into people anymore, i wanted them to fuck off. i just needed some fresh air to free my lungs, which were about to explode. i didn't have asthma, but i was faithfully considering a diagnosis. i ran in as clumsily as possible, narrowly escaping a glass of drink falling on me. don't these people have any manners?

when i finally reached a large balcony, it was as if a weight had been lifted off me. fortunately, i was alone. perfect. i sat down on the small purple sofa, crossed my legs and let myself sink into my thoughts. i was about to have a psychotic break.

yang jungwon, literally the love of my life, had pretended that my existence was null and void after a year without any contact. i mean, morally correct, he did more than he should have. if i had been in his position, i wouldn't even have bothered to look at myself. what was i expecting? a kiss and a bunch of flowers? after all the shit i've done? boy, i was really a fool. fool to believe that he would forgive me, if i didn't even believe it. i just talked myself out of it all year so that the guilt would subside. deep down, i knew i was more guilty than a murderer. and for a year, it was really the only thing i felt. something that consumed me every day in an exhausting way, eating me alive. just thinking about every call denied, every message ignored... my heart shrunk like a helpless animal.

i remember that day for the twentieth time.

it was early in the morning and i was clearly upset and fed up with my life. all i wanted to do was disappear, and so i did. no advance warning, nothing... i just vanished like magic into thin air. i tried to make excuses in my head, but there simply weren't any. i was just an idiot.

i was trapped inside my own head when i felt a hand on my shoulder. i flinched, startled by the sudden movement. i was about to punch person when i realized it was nari, great relief bursting from my lips.

— you’re here! i have been looking for you everywhere!

her face, which until then had been laughing, quickly turned into a sad expression when her eyes met mine. damn, was i that ugly for everyone to change their mood when they looked at me?

she sat down on the sofa next to mine, remaining silent for a few moments, with only the muffled sound of pitbull's "she doesn't mind" echoing in the background. i didn’t knew what to say.

— you saw him, didn't you? — those words came out almost as a whisper, as if she was afraid of my answer. i took a long pause.

— yes, i did.

— are you okay? — she asked calmly.

— i’m fine. — i said harshly. i didn't want to talk about it, because i knew i'd end up in tears. i didn’t want to be seen crying all over school on the first day back. actually, i didn't want to expose my feelings, because i knew that once i started, i'd never stop.

she came closer, enveloping me in a warm hug. god, i loved her hugs.

— you know i'm here for you, don't you? for everything. — she said firmly. i admired her so much.

— i know, nari, and i love you for it. but i'm fine, seriously. — she looked at me again. i knew that look. she felt sorry for me, as if i were someone without any hope. well, maybe i was. the hug lasted a few more seconds before i pulled away from her. the warmth of the hug quickly turned cold, the gentle wind giving me goosebumps. i was so focused on the situation that i didn't even notice it was freezing outside.

— he's in the garden. i saw him a few minutes ago. — and with that comment, she stood up and disappeared back into the crowd.

she knew perfectly well what she was doing, torturing me psychologically. she knew how much i wanted to talk to him, and how much i would fight against my will. if my impulses were faster than my neurons, i'd be out of here by now. but i couldn't, i just couldn't. i wanted it, oh god, i wanted it more than anything. but i couldn't. i just sat there, my ass already sore from sitting there for so long.

time passed and passed, and that thought didn't leave me for a second. i tried everything. i tried creating random couples on the dance floor, i tried counting how many blue plastic cups there were in that house... i really did. but it was swallowing me up.

i couldn't stand it any longer and got up.

fuck this shit.

i passed through the disgusting crowd once again, this time like a real hurricane. i was getting used to it. i ran as if my life depended on it, until i reached the garden.

just as my best friend said, there he was. on his back, leaning against one of the pillars of the house's white façade, watching the sky, which was full of stars. he was obsessed with astronomy. even from the back he was handsome. was that even possible?

once again, my heart began to beat excessively. my hands were shaking more and more with every step i took, my legs were weak. the desire to stay and the desire to flee were fighting each other in a brutal way. i needed to do that. i needed to find an end point. seeing my life flash before me, i leaned against his side.

— hi.

my voice came out trembling. i didn't dare look at him, but i could feel his eyes watching me, burning my face like lasers. i waited for an answer, but nothing came out of his mouth, as expected.

he took a packet out of his jeans pocket and took out a cigarette, lighting it in front of me. the act surprised me a little, as the jungwon i knew was the biggest hater of smokers. he was acting as if i wasn't even there. childish, but i couldn't judge him.

— ignorance game, got it. — i said it without thinking twice.

he let the air out of his lungs with extreme ease. the disgusting smell quickly reached my nostrils, making my nose twitch.

— i thought you liked that game. — ouch. the ease with which those words came out of his mouth hit me like a sharp knife. who was that and what had happened to my jungwon?

— i don’t.

— well…— he paused. —…i guess i was wrong.

— you are wrong about many things. — i attacked.

i was expecting a reaction, but all i heard was his laughter. even though i wasn't looking at him, i could picture his dimples perfectly.

— thank god that’s something that we both agree. — i didn't understand his metaphor.

silence quickly filled the garden again.

various things were going through my head, but no words seemed good enough to say out loud. i just wanted to end it once and for all. i turned to him, finally seeing his handsome figure, and then, at the speed of light, i let words slip out. i spoke so fast at that moment that i could easily be considered eminem's daughter.

— look, jungwon im sorry. i never meant to hurt y….

— stop. — his rough voice echoed at a higher volume, cutting off my speech in a harsh manner.

i tried again.

— no, let me apologize, i’m really sorr….

— i don’t need your apology for shit. — oh. he used a curse word. yang rarely used cuss words like that, it was a warning. he was pissed. i was fucked.

— i can explain, please…

— your explanation date has expired. — he just kept cutting off my hopes, one by one.

— please, just hear me! — the desperation was noticeable in my tone.

i was sure that if someone were watching this scene, they'd laugh at me. i was making a fool of myself. i looked like i'd gone back to the age of 5 and was asking my mother for ice cream in the supermarket. how pathetic.

— i’d rather be deaf than listen to your voice again. get the fuck out of here. — he was definitely losing patience. but i couldn't give up. each insult hurt me more.

— no jungwon, please, listen to me just for a second. — i was ready to kneel in front of him and kiss his feet. maybe i'd be stoned in a public square for my sins. i just needed him to listen to me, just once.

— if you dont go i will. — he gave me an ultimatum.

i wasn't going anywhere.

i stood there, about a meter away from him, static. i wasn't going to leave, not again.

realizing that i wasn't going to disappear from his sight, he just shook his head, turned on his heels and headed into the house. the roles were reversed. it would be comical if it weren't tragic.

my blood boiled. why the fuck was he being like this? i could feel the anxiety and fear being filled with anger. i was getting sick of it.

— so, its that? you just run from your problems? — i screamed with all my will, hoping it would reach his ears in the middle of all the noise.

he instantly stopped. it definitely hit him.

i saw his silhouette turn. he approached me slowly, without saying anything. i trembled completely. he seemed to be struggling with his own thoughts.

— who the fuck do you think you are? — it came out almost as a whisper. a gentle breeze that reached me like a hurricane.

i felt my insides squirm.

— excuse me? — i said, not believing it. i felt so tiny next to him.

— you heard what i said. — if looks could kill, i'd already be decomposing.

— who the actual fuck you think you are? do you think you are that important to come to this party wich, by the way, you werent even invited, and just decide that i exist again?

— you always existed to me.

— stop. im sick of your bullshit. — the only one who was sick there was me. i wanted to throw up.

— it’s not bullshit, i swear.

— oh really? thats not what it looked like in the last 12 months. — it was as if i had ripped the entire vocabulary out of my mind with that sentence. i didn't know what to say. i only could utter apologies.

— look, i’m so sorry, i didn’t meant to. i’m so sorry, i shouldn't have done that.

— no, you did the right thing. it made me realize who you really were. they only thing you shouldn’t had did was come back here.

i could feel the tears threatening to come out.

— i was very unhappy with myself, you can't imagine. i had family and addiction problems, all i wanted to do was get away from this place...i was losing my mind.

he laughed evilly.

— and you still have the nerve to accuse me of running away from my problems? i've realized what you are.

— what am i….?

— a fucking psycho. what did you think, hm? that you would come back and i would see you and your pretty face and run away to your arms? no y/n, im sorry to break your little fantasy, but that is not happening. im not doing this again. — he raised his voice, practically screaming at me. i could see how angry he was.

— you have to believe me, i never had the intentions….

— imagine if you had. — he laughed at his own joke. it was driving me crazy.

— i’m being serious jungwon, i never meant to hurt y…

— gosh you are so annoying! — he finally exploded. — for god’s sake! can’t you just take responsability for your actions and stop acting like a twelve years old for a moment in your life? stop trying to find excuses to it, just stop!

— i was stressed, okay?! my life was falling apart, i needed to go! — i was screaming too without even realizing it.

— right, how convenient of you.

fucker.

— you know what? it's not because your life is perfect that others have it too. it's not my fault that i wasn't born into the same world as spoiled rich people like you.

— my life is not perfect. — he shot back.

— oh really? i'm sorry, your life must be really bad for your only concern to be which car you're going to choose for your 18th birthday. i’m really sorry, it must be really hard for you, poor jungwon.

i vividly remember all the moments when i realized that yang and i were from different realities. like when he went to school by private car while i had to wake up every day at 5am to catch the bus, or when his bedroom was twice the size of my entire house. i always felt bad about it, even though he said it wouldn't change anything in our relationship. and it was true. but still, i felt bad everytime i stepped into that house. that seemed to move him. he briefly paused the discussion.

— yea, my life is fucking perfect. my mother died in a car accident three months ago and my family's company is close to bankruptcy. but you're right, my life is perfect.

i froze. i could feel his voice trembling. my god, poor jungwon. he loved his mother more than anything. mrs. yang was the sweetest person i knew, not counting her son. how come i didn't get this news? oh my god.

— i’m so sorry, i didn’t kn….

— that’s exactly your fucking problem! you didn’t knew! you didn’t even care to know! — he was in pain. he had every right to.

— don’t say that, i always cared about you!

— no the fuck you don’t, you only care about yourself. when things don't go your way, you cry like a baby. this is not a fairy tale, y/n!

my fist itched to punch him. he was being so cruel. but was he lying? no. i really was childish. there was nothing i hated more than not having my plans the way i wanted them to be, i lose a neuron every time something goes backfired.

— i’m telling you, i was in trouble. how many times do i have to repeat? — i was getting tired of screaming. my voice was already getting hoarse.

— and that’s how you deal with your shit?! you just run away without thinking about others? wow — he started clapping at me. — how empathetic of you.

— you wouldn’t understand me, i was afraid of telling you…— no i wasn’t. i just simply didn’t want to. i didn’t wanted to bother.

— i was your fucking boyfriend! that’s what we are supposed to do, be there for each other no matter what!

he couldn't get enough.

— i know it, i know you were! — i approached him, hoping to find some forgiveness in his eyes. but nothing, nothing but hatred.

— you’re right, i was there for everything. and if i wasn’t, was because you didn’t wanted me to. now let me ask, y/n. — he paused. — when was the last time that you were there for me?

he asked me the rhetorical question, remaining silent for a few seconds. — ‘cause if i can remember, you left me at my worst.

i had a lump in my throat. i could think of nothing. i couldn't do this for much longer. i was as fragile as a glass vase, about to break at any moment.

— i am so, so sorry. there hasn't been a day when i haven't thought about the shit i've done. please, i'm so sorry…— i grabbed his hand, hoping to find some sign of life in that dead love, some hope. but nothing, absolutely nothing. it was empty.

he stared at me for a few seconds, as if he were studying me. god... those eyes. they were the death of me. i kept stroking his hand, seeking warmth in the midst of his coldness.

for a moment, i could have sworn that something inside him changed, as if he had softened.

i was beginning to believe that his next move would be a kiss because of the way he approached me. i could hear my heart beating as loudly as the jbl speakers at the party. had i succeeded? had this story come to an end?

he let go of my hand.

— well, i hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. i hope it's on your mind every second, minute, hour, month, year, decade. i hope it torments you so much that it drives you insane. i hope you never forgive yourself, just as i don't. ever.

as always, all my expectations were violently snatched away from me by fate.

i was about to fall off the cliff, i mean, to be thrown off it.

— jungwon, it is not that deep. — the words came out of my mouth faster than my mind would let them. like a bucket of cold water, they fell on him like sharp knives.

his eyes filled with tears. i had hit rock bottom.

— not that deep, you said. — his voice broke. — y/n, i i loved you. did you even realize that? — he paused again. i was fighting back tears.

— i loved you with every bone, muscle and cell in my heart. i loved you with all my strength. i loved all your traits, both physical and psychological, even the ones you hated. i loved your fucking sensitive and stubborn personality. i loved your laugh and also the hilarious way you cry. i loved the way you tie your cords and the way you eat cereal in the morning. i loved you drunk, drugged, crying, sleepy and sick. i loved you from the moment i first saw you in the library. i loved you with my whole soul. and all you managed to do was kill that love.

tears rolled down his face like a real ocean, his face was red. even in that state he was the most beautiful boy i had ever seen. i didn't look any different, i had surrendered to my sadness from the moment he said the first three words. it was hurting me so much, more than any physical pain i've ever felt. not even breaking my leg in fourth grade made me cry so much.

— i loved you too, i loved you so much. — i confesed. i used to love him so much.

i still did.

he was the first and only boy i truly loved, with all my heart. he was the first boy i trusted with my body, my trust, my soul. he was the love of my life, but perhaps not the love for my life.

— no, you didn’t. because when you love someone, you don't do shit that hurts them. ever. and that's the only thing you knew how to do. — he was totally sobbing. we were like two children fighting over a toy.

— please, i know i hurted you, let me reward you. we can fix this, we can if we want…— i was so desperate. i couldn't let him go, i just couldn't.

he took a step back. shit.

— that’s the thing, i don’t want to. i never want to have anything to do with you again. i don't want to be near you, to breathe, to talk. i don't even want to exist in the same place as you never again in my life. do you hear me? i will ensure that your existence is as significant as an ant.

i felt like i'd just been hit in the back of the head with a brick. my vision was blurred, i was dizzy, helpless. my make-up was smeared and my hair was tangled.

it felt like my whole life had been sucked out of me.

it wasn't happening, it wasn't. it couldn't be happening. it had to be some kind of prank. the tears came out of me automatically, i almost drowned in them.

— now, do me and everyone in this town a favor and disappear. again.

and with that, he turned his back on me and went into the mansion.

— but i still love you. — i yelled one last time.

he stopped, and turned his head.

— that is your problem.

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 5.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1.3k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; (no smut in this part) mentions of infidelity

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment. It's been months but I'm finally back! Thank you for your patience and Happy 2024!

masterlist

You remember Robert’s note every so often over the next week. You have little time to plan anything properly about your Santa Fe trip, but you fantasize when you’re alone enough. You have only been to the town on your way to Los Alamos months ago, and you were different then. You hadn’t known what this part of the world was capable of.

This dreaminess seeps into your life when you walk into the center of town to buy lighter fluid. You’re out of matches and may have to resort to a flint if you don’t hurry along to the store – and on the way in, you see Kitty, a basket in one arm full of packages from the butcher.

“You again,” she murmurs, flashing her perfect teeth.

She keeps the door open, people moving past both of you. She gives a nod to some women drifting past. It reminds you of high school.

“Robert mentioned something about you and the boys going off on a weekend trip next month,” she says, and you watch her face for any sign of suspicion. “But he can’t have you all to himself all the time, dear. I can’t have you over for my wives’ club since you’re so busy…”

Your eyes meet and you realize she absolutely does not see you as a threat. She’s trying to make friends.

“Unfortunately,” you say, though you’re pretending a little.

“There you go!” she laughs, hitting your arm playfully. “So, you understand my issue. We cannot go on knowing each other and not seeing one another. This town is small enough as it is…”

She trails off, looking behind her at the customers, something passing over her face.

“Did you know I’m a botanist?” she says eventually, glancing back at you. “I’m not just Robert’s wife.”

“Of course, you’re not,” you say.

“And I suppose you have no garden outside that godforsaken shack you’re in,” she goes on, having recovered from whatever she was feeling a breath beforehand. “I’m going to have to give you some type of succulent.”

“A succulent?” you repeat with a smirk.

“Yes, dear. A cactus. Something.”

You appreciate this, having someone that isn’t from T building to talk to. You give a shrug.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

“Yes, and then you can come visit us again to pick it up,” Kitty conspires, smiling again. “Or Robert can drop it off at yours…”

You think of him visiting your house under innocent circumstances, hoping the irony doesn’t show on your face. You clear your throat.

“I’ll let you go,” you say, and she nods.

“Suppose I ought to get back to the brat,” she sighs. “He’s with a neighbor. Unless you’d like to join me?”

You shake your head automatically. “I need to get back to work.”

Kitty rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that one before. Ta-ta.”

You watch her leave, and then finally walk into the store. Your head is full of Robert again; he must have mentioned Santa Fe while passing through his house. You can picture him bringing up this idea as if he hadn’t come up with it the night of the dinner party. Your face feels warm, remembering his lips on yours, the way he caught your hand in his.

-

You light a cigarette as you leave for lunch a week later, almost running into a uniformed officer. He calls you by your last name and you glance up, confused.

“Ma’am, Colonel Nichols wishes to speak with you.”

You feel some colleagues’ eyes on you, aware of Robert being within earshot, too.

“Yes?”

You can’t think of what else to say, given that you see there’s little choice in the matter. The young officer turns his heel, and you follow him out. You suck on your cigarette, exhaling to the side as you exit the building, keeping a brisk pace so you’re not left behind.

You only feel mild irritation when you arrive at Nichols’ office, since he doesn’t care that your lunch break is only so long, and there are only so many opportunities to take it throughout a busy workday.

You should have gauged Robert’s reaction on your way out, as Nichols does not seem pleased to see you despite his request.

“Please have a seat,” he says, barely looking up from his papers.

You would rather stand. You would rather not be there at all by how cold he is, by how your stomach growls. You don’t often listen to your body’s signals when you’re in the labs, but now you can’t ignore your rising hunger. You take a short inhale of your cigarette before mashing it in the ashtray in front of you, taking the seat he offers.

“I understand you have requested a weekend pass,” he says, finally looking at you.

His eyes behind his spectacles are pale and assessing. The blue smoke of your cigarette still lingers above your heads as you place your hands in your lap.

“Yes, was my application efficient?” you ask, and he smirks.

“You have never requested a pass before this week,” he says. “Why is that?”

You glance away, unsure of whether this is a joke. He has no right to know such a thing, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, nonetheless. Admitting the truth, that you haven’t wanted to leave because you had no reason to, made your life sound so small and sad. You refuse the mortification.

“I’ve been busy, or is that not a good enough reason, sir?” you retort, and he blinks, unmoved.

“It has nothing to do with Dr. Oppenheimer being present among the visitors of Santa Fe?” he says.

You freeze, wanting your cigarette back, wishing you had known it would be this way. Was he insinuating something, had he seen something? Heard a rumor?

“Dr. Oppenheimer and several of my colleagues will be in Santa Fe,” you say, drawing in a breath. You let it go, to seem bored by his invasiveness. “Are we not meant to spend time with one another outside of a laboratory? I would have thought the Army endorsed that kind of morale building among its ranks.”

You’re laying it on thick and he notices it, frowning ever so slightly.

“Oppie might not even come, he’s so busy,” you add with a half laugh. “And Feynman was always more fun. He is not pathologically introverted.”

“I would have thought you have been described as such, before this pass request came through,” Nichols drawls.

“Not diagnosed as such,” you say, a smile on your lips that you let fall instantly, knowing it to be a disturbing sight to some.

You no longer wish to pretend.

“Will I be allowed to leave Los Alamos or not?” you ask, and Nichols looks down at his papers, an open file.

“For now, yes,” he says.

You stare at one another, waiting for the silence to be broken. You refuse to blink, to further unsettle him. You despise being controlled and have not felt this type of outrage in a while.

“You may leave,” he says, and you rise from your chair.

He adds as you turn your back:

“Be careful, with what you share about the project.”

You always are. You turn back, frowning at him.

“Of course. Loose lips and all.”

He gives his own false smile, echoing you: “Of course.”

-

You find Robert later, who takes your elbow and steers you back out, making a show of insisting you get something to eat like you originally planned.

“Will you have lunch, then, Oppie?” someone teases, and he laughs softly.

When you are alone in the hallway, you stop, your voices lowering.

“Nichols knows. How does he know?”

“A guard, perhaps,” Robert says, and he is not anywhere near as concerned as you.

You stare at him. “Robert, I am being serious.”

“As am I,” he says, and he touches your cheek, then your shoulder, sighing. “My darling, I’m sorry you’re put through this.”

“I’m a willing participant,” you retort, and he shakes his head, just the once. “Will you please enlighten me-?”

“I have a file. And they watch me,” he whispers.

You look towards the entryway to the hall you occupy, then back at Robert. A distinct fear settles into you, deep down, to your marrow. You suppress a shiver.

Thank you for reading! I know I vanished for a while, but I hope to write more consistently. I have a nine month-old baby and it's hard to find time for creative things, so I'm very grateful to anyone who's been hanging out for more of this story! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, hmu! 🥰

[the---hermit]

A lovely festive card from a friend and random notes.

19|12|2023

I am back after being very ill again. This time I got the flu, and to make things worse my panic disorder kicked me once again and it was bad. I am starting to feel a bit better now, but I am still very weak and my stomach isn't at its best yet. I spent a couple of hellish days, and decided to skip class this week. I confident I will be fully recovered for Friday when I'll have to speak in the seminar, but until that day I am not leaving my house and I am taking things slowly. This of course means that my nice study plan is totally fucked. I am so beyond schedul and I am not in shape to get caught with it, so I will simply have to sit down and make a whole other plan. I am starting to slowly getting back into doing some work during the day, but I have not enough mental energy to power through the book I have to study. So this week I will try to stay productive as much as I can but minding what my body allows me to do. I will study less hours during the day, do lighter stuff, and stop whenever I feel like I need to lie down, or move around depending on what my body is asking me. This morning for example I got about an hourish of work done, I was very happy with myself but then I simply had to accept that I needed to lie down, and I did so. I am fighting with the guilt of not sticking to plans and feeling overwhelmed with everything I have to do, and I am trying my best. The other thing I am struggling with at the moment is food, not in a concerning way, but more in the sense that right now I feel like I lost the joy of eating and having a good meal and that is impacting my mood so bad. First a couple of weeks ago I went to the dentist and struggled so much with pain in my mouth for a while, and now due to my stomach being affected by the flu, eating has just become something I have to do and I despise feeling like this. I want to sit at my table and be happy about what I am going to eat, I want to look forward to my meals and I have yet to figure out how to get back there. Maybe I just have a bit of a scare since in the past two or three years I often had my anxiety and panic symptoms strongly linked to my stomach and I am now scared that I'll get back into that stupid place in which eating was anxiety inducing for me. I just hope that will get better soon and that I will be able to enjoy the amazing food my family will make during the holidays.

calm hobbit winter activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning (I managed to read ten pages which is such a big win after these awful days)

wrote notes for the second chapeter of Nature, Human Nature and Human Difference by Justin Smith

updated my reading journal

started watching cabinet of curiosities (in the past few years I have been terrible at watching new series, but this morning when I had to lie down after studying I felt like watching something new could be a good way to keep my brain a bit active. I watched the first two episodes and loved the first one. The second one fell very flat for me but I am exctied to see more of it, it definitely has the gothic horror vibes I adore)

started reviewing my men theories and power practices notes and added a few additional informations here and there

practiced my presentation for Friday

📖: Bookshops and Bonedust by Travis Baldree

[bcbdrums]

The Little Ones - ch. 77

A Drakgo fic. Read on: AO3 | FFn The Little Ones masterpost

A/N: Sorry no title, I'm just not clever with titles in a hurry. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @flowery-laser-blasts!!! It's short, and was written in a hurry, but I still wanted to give you something so you know just how much you are appreciated. I hope you'll enjoy this little slice-of-life. Know what's neat, is in writing this... I was seeing them in your art style as I went. Interesting filter my brain applied. It was fun.

Drakken adjusted the magnification on his glasses, zooming in as he continued his delicate work. The tiniest error would ruin everything and could result in an explosion that would leave him both physically and emotionally wounded for weeks, not to mention the blow to his pride for not being able to finish the job he'd started.

He slowly leaned back, adjusted his grip, and then leaned forward again as he carefully positioned the brush. He painted a nearly-microscopic black, glittering line across the curved surface, not releasing his breath until he had finished. Then he then leaned back again with a grin of satisfaction. The sparkling zig-zag line was perfectly straight, separating the darker green from the lighter, and would catch the light beautifully.

"Do you want the gel top coat after they dry?" he asked.

"Of course," Shego replied as she spread her fingers and studied the fresh coat of polish on her nails. "I like the zig-zags."

Drakken puffed up in pride and with a bit of relief. He never wanted to relive how angry Shego had been the time he made a small mistake in his fine detail work because of Commodore Puddles licking his ankle unexpectedly.

"Change the channel, then you can do my other hand," she said, setting the painted one flat on the table with her fingers spread apart.

Drakken dutifully lifted the remote and after quickly checking the time, flipped over to Shego's favorite reality show—Monster Jam—and then prepared to paint the nails of her other hand.

"I still can't believe your cousin snuck onto the show," Shego said after a moment.

Drakken grumbled as he glanced at the screen during the show's intro montage, displaying monster trucks crushing car after car.

"He said their monster trucks were 'seriously under-powered,'" Drakken replied.

He gently lifted Shego's other hand from the table, allowed himself a moment to savor the sensation of her hot skin against his, feel how delicate and smooth her fingers were in comparison to his calloused ones.

"I bet you could build a better one."

"Hnh. Don't tempt me," Drakken said as he adjusted his glasses and dipped the brush into the black polish. The accent nail on this hand was going to have a tiny green skull, but he of course needed the base coat first.

As he started, he felt Shego's eyes leave the screen and focus on him instead. His cheeks began to warm as he felt her soft smile on him rather than her fingers.

"If I had known you were so good at this I'd have stopped going to the salon years ago."

Drakken felt his heart flutter.

"I'm good with my hands in other ways too," he said, dipping the brush in the polish again.

Shego didn't reply, and when he looked up her face was flushed crimson and her eyes darted away from his, fixing unblinking on the television. It took him an embarrassingly long time to follow the train of her thoughts, and when he arrived at their conclusion he dropped the brush on the table and nearly choked in his shock.

"Ahhheheheh, I mean! Ahh, I'm— I'm...very good at...giving massages."

Drakken watched Shego bite the inside of her cheek as she glanced back at him cautiously, not bothering to pretend her mind hadn't gone exactly where it must have.

"Youuu you you...don't...need to pay for the spa, either. If you don't want to," he continued quickly.

Shego swallowed slowly, recovered herself, and then turned to smirk at him.

"You pay for my spa vacations."

"Nyeh! Shego... Work with me here."

She chuckled, and Drakken sighed in relief to be let off the hook.

"Okay, okay. I'll bite. When my nails dry you can try to convince me that staying in the lair for a massage is better than a fifteen hour flight to Greece. What do you say?"

Drakken picked up the brush again and cleaned it to resume his painting. He had been frowning in reaction to the misunderstanding, but as he stole glances at Shego watching TV he felt a different kind of flush rise under his collar. She was pointedly not looking at him, and every now and then when she thought he was engrossed in the details of the painting he saw her bite her lip, and her hand had gone clammy in his.

He grinned as he wondered... Perhaps he shouldn't have corrected her after all.

Perhaps he should misunderstand something later when she let him try to prove his other skills.

Drakken dipped the brush in the bright green polish as he allowed himself to stroke her hand with his thumb just once.

"I say...you're on."

[fallenclan]

//an: this is the third part of this. if u could link the second part of that it would be greaaatt thank u very much

//tw; implied past abuse, death

--

Applebranch has her second litter the next moon.

"I want to name this one Crowkit," she says, pointing to a tortoiseshell she-cat. Then, she points to a tiny brown swirled molly with her tail. "And this is Molekit."

All that's left is a black and white tom. She stares fondly at him.

"I'm not sure what to name him," Applebranch says. "He's quiet, I'll give you that."

"Quietkit?" Silverbelly prompts.

"It doesn't feel right," Applebranch muses. "Thoughts on Coalkit?"

"No," Silverbelly says. "That one doesn't feel right either."

She takes note of how Crowkit and Molekit both seem to nestle into the little tom.

"Blackkit?"

"No," Applebranch says. "Too basic."

Then, the little kit sneezes. Silverbelly stares at the pine needle that just landed on him.

"Pinekit?"

"Pinekit."

--

Hailpaw flexes her leg. "It feels good."

"Alright, then you're free," Silverbelly says. "Don't strain it too much. Tell Otterslip to only do lighter exercises for a half moon, so you can get back into the swing of things."

Hailpaw grins at her. "Yeah! Okay! Bye Silverbelly, bye Lichenstripe, bye Stormsight. Thank you!"

Hailpaw was unique. She had this thing where instead of saying "thanks, you guys" she thanked every cat individually. She had boundless energy, yet stayed completely still while she was recovering. Sleeping, silently watching her littermates.

"Lichenstripe," she softly calls. The tom perks his head up. "When you catch Otterslip, tell him to keep an extra eye out for Hailpaw."

"Will do," Lichenstripe says.

Silverbelly turns back to her herbs, prepared to begin stocking them, when she hears rustling behind her. One sniff tells her all she needs to know.

"Oaktuft," she dully asks. "What do you need today?"

(She held a specific brand of sarcasm just for Oak "I once stubbed my paw on a rock and screamed loud enough to wake the dead" tuft. He knows she doesn't mean it.)

"I think Moxie is expecting kits," he hastily says.

Lichenstripe perks up. "Send her my way later."

"I was hoping... you could... ask?"

Silverbelly, as maturely as possible, groans. "What did you do?"

"I just, don't think she knows yet?" Oaktuft says. It comes out like a question.

"You mean to tell me," Silverbelly inhales. "That you picked up a queen was expecting before she did?"

"Yes?"

"You know how stupid you sound right now?" Silverbelly gawks. "Like, you're usually stupid-"

"Hey!"

"- but this is breaching new levels of idiocy. Lichenstripe, tell him how ridiculous he sounds."

Lichenstripe stays perfectly still. "I'll check on her later. I'll just say there's a stomach bug I need to check for or something."

Oaktuft grins. "Thanks Lichenstripe, you're the best!" And then he runs back off.

"Why do you oblige him?" Silverbelly sighs.

"He's funny," Lichenstripe hums. "Sometimes."

--

Moxie, as it turns out, is expecting. Oaktuft can be strangely perceptive when he's actually paying attention to things.

Silverbelly sighs, and drops a pebble in Lichenstripe's "made an inacurrate assumption about something and was wrong" hole.

--

Stormsight and her are out gathering herbs when he perks up, pile of poppy forgotten.

Then, he's walking through the bush.

"Stormsight!" She shouts, her own little pile of oak leaves left to the wind.

She follows his tail, and that's when she picks up on it. A tiny, barely audible mewing, followed by frantic shushing.

And he stops at a bush.

A cat with a bright ginger back and jagged stripes looks up at them, and hisses. "Get the hell away from me!"

"Are you alright?" Silverbelly asks.

She picks up one of her kits, and hisses again. "Back off!"

"My name is Stormsight," Stormsight smoothly says. "This is Silverbelly. We're medicine cats. We don't hurt cats, we heal them."

"That's what the last one said," the queen snarls. "And then I was attacked."

Silverbelly takes notice of the small nick on her ear, and the little scratch bleeding from her stomach. She sees a little nest of dead leaves and moss.

"What's your name?" Silverbelly gently asks.

"I'm," she pauses. "I'm Jagged."

"Do you need somewhere to stay, Jagged?" She instinctively asks. "We have a home. We can help you, and treat your wounds."

"I don't need help," she spits. As if on cue, one of her kits wails, and tries to paw at her belly. "I don't."

It takes a very long time, but eventually Silverbelly and Stormsight manage to convince her to come to camp, where she sleeps in the nursery with her kits, and continues to hiss at anyone who gets too close. But she talks to Holly, and Applebranch, even if it's just curt responses, so it's an improvement.

--

Moxie gives birth to one kit. Newtkit. A scrappy little thing that seems to hate everything except her mother and Bluekit.

And Jaggedstripe has gotten better. She has real conversations with Applebranch, and Moxie, and she lets Silverbelly check her over with minimal fuss.

And Hailcrash has truly grown into herself. She's a spectacular fighter, clever and intelligent. Otterslip always says her name with the utmost pride.

Henryclaw is a new addition to the clan, someone that Jaggedstripe used to know. They say tense hello's and nobody pries farther.

--

Two things happen in the following moons.

One, Lakelily has been more tense during their half moon meetings. Hesitant to say anything about his clan or how his cats are doing. He won't meet her at the border for herb trades. She has a horrible feeling Floodstar is behind it.

Two, Neo dies in his sleep. He was old, it was bound to happen.

Three, Goldenstar loses his first life defending his son from a dog. He spends one day in her den recovering, then leaves.

"Come back if it starts hurting again," she calls.

Goldenstar flicks his tail, but she knows he won't be visiting anytime soon. She watches Celia run to greet him, and realizes that he might have someone to keep him in check after all.

--

"You're old," Newkit says.

Moxie stares at Silverbelly. "Am I?"

Silverbelly winces, and decides the floor is the most interesting thing in the world. Moxie looks at Oaktuft, who looks like he was just viciously insulted.

"Are we old, Newtkit?" Oaktuft whispers, a single tear leaking from his eye.

"Yeah," Newtkit loudly says. "You should retire so you stop complaining about your bones hurting after patrols."

Oaktuft frowns. "Oh."

"I suppose we are old," Moxie muses. "Thoughts on retiring?"

"I guess we can retire," Oaktuft says.

And that is the story of how Moxie and Oaktuft retire. Because their four moon kitten calls them old.

--

Jaggedstripe leaves the nursery.

Her kits are six moons old, so she's technically supposed to leave. Technically, they've been complaining they don't need her since they were four moons, but she stays regardless.

"I don't think I want to move," Jaggedstripe says.

"You could stay in the nursery," Stormsight says. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Newtkit will be an apprentice in hardly a moon," Jaggedstripe says. "There's no point in staying in the nursery if there are no kits to look after."

Silverbelly hums. "It's up to you."

And later that day, she sees Jaggedstripe carrying a small bundle of moss into the warrior's den and smiles.

--

"Inhale," she says.

Sillymoon takes one deep breath.

"Exhale." She hums as she listens, then steps away. "Everything sounds fine. Don't push too hard, Toro will show you the ropes."

"Thank you for your help," Sillymoon says. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she says. "Stay safe."

Then, Jaggedstripe walks into the den, and drops Newtpaw at her feet. "She fell from a tree. She seems fine, but I just..."

Silverbelly nods, and noses through her fur. "Anything hurt?"

"No!" Newtpaw exclaims. "Everything's fine. I'm just sore."

There's one bruise blooming on Newtpaw's shoulder, but otherwise she looks fine.

"See?" Newtpaw turns to Jaggedstripe. "I told you I landed on the moss."

Jaggedstripe concedes, and nods.

--

"You," Silverbelly breathes. "You what?"

"I think I accidentally flirted with Wormshade?" Flyspots meekly says.

"Aw, he's all grown up," Applebranch teases.

"Momma!" He squeaks.

"My little baby is finally feeling things," Applebranch purrs. Flyspots ducks under her muzzle.

"You know what, forget I said anything," he declares. "Never talking to you about romance again. Maplethorn!"

"Why is he talking to Maple?" Applebranch gawks. "He's horrible at romance. He has never once felt anything for anyone."

"Maybe he's looking for a more realistic opinion?" Silverbelly blinks.

She's promptly interrupted by Wormshade bowling into her. "Hey, if I hypothetically wanted to be Flyspot's mate, would you kill me?"

Applebranch hums. "Depends on how fast you can run."

"Oh," he says, then slowly backs up. "Yeah, I'm gonna. Yeah."

"Stop scaring his future mate off," Silverbelly says. "They're cute."

--

Landslides are one of the common dangers of mountain life. They've happened before, it's easy to avoid them if you're in shape and out of the way and it's easy to hear them coming.

She digs frantically, paws churning at the mud. He needed to be here. She can't explain this to Lakelily.

A warm pelt brushes her, with the underlying coolness that says it belongs to the stars, and she stops.

One yellow limb pokes out of the mud, unmoving.

"Oh," Holly whispers. "I'm so sorry."

Silverbelly tucks her head into her paws and cries.

--

"I'm sorry," she blurts.

Lakelily stares at her. His eyes are dull, and his tail lays flat along his paws. "For?"

"Lichenstripe died," she hollowly says. "He got caught in a landslide. I'm so sorry."

Lakelily pauses, then stares up at the moon. "That's not your fault."

She watched the newly named Eveningstar climb the rock, and the conversation abruptly ends.

--

Pinefrost and Molesong become warriors.

Crowpaw stares at them from next to Mudsplash, who murmurs something to her. Crowpaw doesn't acknowledge the words.

Silverbelly continues to cheer for her kits, and makes a mental note to check on Crowpaw later.

--

"It looks pretty badass," Bluefern says.

"It does," Newtpaw agrees. "I look cool as fuck."

Silverbelly sighs.

--

"Check back with me later," she yells.

Goldenstar does not check back with her later. When she finds him, sleeping in his nest, she asks Celia to send him her way when he wakes up.

Predictably, he does not stop by. Celia says sorry, and she says it's okay, but she wishes her leader would take care of himself for once in his life.

--

"The verdict?" Evie asks.

He's a brand new, so dark brown he looks black in most lights, recruit to the clan. Also, he's sick, and hacks his lungs out every four minutes. When he is not doing that, he is winking at Bluefern when she passes by.

"Greencough," she says, then passes a leaf to Evie. "If you're going to cough out phlegm-"

"What's that?"

"-please cough it out on this so I can properly get rid of it."

"Okay," Evie says.

--

"Maybe I'll retire soon," Curly says. She flexes her tail, now scarred in a ring like way.

She hums. "If you'd like."

And she promptly ignores how shamelessly Evie is flirting with Bluefern and Newtscar, who are also flirting with eachother. She can't tell if it's a joke.

--

"Crowflame, did you know male torties are like, super rare?" Blizzardfang says.

Crowflame hums. Silverbelly feels the fur on her spine stand. Applebranch laughs.

--

One moon later, Evie has recovered.

"I wonder what Bluefern thinks about mates," he mumbles. Silverbelly can feel her jaw drop. Next to her, Jaggedstripe gawks.

--

"Silverbelly?" Goldenstar asks.

"Look who finally pays me a visit," she says. "What do you need?"

"Would it be betraying Morningbloom if I loved someone else?"

"Why do you ask?" She carefully studies his conflicted expression. "Oh my stars, it's Celia. You like Celia. Why?"

"He has a charming smile," Goldenstar mumbles. Silverbelly groans.

"But to answer your question," Silverbelly says. "I think Morningbloom would want you to be happy. If Celia makes you happy, she would want that for you."

--

"I know," Applebranch whispers, in a soothing voice. "I know, Silvie."

"I keep having the same damn dream," she whispers. "Since I was an apprentice."

She chokes out a sob, and Applebranch murmurs hollow words of comfort.

--

"What do you mean you thought we were already mates?"

Flyspots tilts over, a dumbstruck expression on his face. Wormshade looks enraged, but the way the fur on his face fluffs up says everything she needs to know.

Applebranch catches his eye, and Wormshade wilts.

--

She wakes up with fluffed fur and unsheathed claws, panting hard.

She stares at Stormsight, and it's like the vision has come crashing down at her. Those fucking rocks, tumbling down a cliff, a trail of blood pooling behind them.

Otterslip is on guard. "Where are you headed to?"

"The glow cave," she says. "I need to speak with Starclan."

Otterslip blinks at her, confusion filling his gaze. "Do you want an escort?"

"No," she breathes. "Not really."

He nods. "Okay. I'll tell everyone where you went."

And Silverbelly allows her paws to guide her east of the mountains, where the clouds block the moon and a faint drizzle accompanies the chilly air.

--

She passes a Cricketclan patrol, who nod at her, and she continues walking, and numbly stops at the glowcave.

"What does it mean?" She whispers, to nobody in particular. "What does it mean?"

She glares at the pool, snarling. "Oh, so now you don't want to talk to me. I haven't gotten a proper rest since before my first litter, and now you want to be quiet?"

She feels her hackles stand. "Fucking talk to me!"

A whisper climbs behind her, and she whips around to face it.

"Yeah, you think this shit is funny? I'm being haunted by three rocks and it's a silly game for you. Of course it is."

The spirit settles next to her, and opens its mouth. Then, it closes again, and materializes a stick in it's jaws.

She stares as it draws a shaky line in the wet clay. She watches a shaky v shape take form, and the spirit points behind her.

"What are you trying to tell me?" She pleads. "Show me what you want me too see."

The spirit raises one paw, ever so slightly lifts it, and points behind her, to the starry pool.

Silverbelly rolls her eyes and looks behind her. And she stops, hissing and snarling as she wheels backwards.

Three rocks. Dark brown with a darker line, a dull brown pebble with two curved lines, and a more ginger one with white spots.

"Tradition," the spirit whispers. "Like an heirloom, of sorts." And then she hears it fade away behind her, leaving Silverbelly alone in a cave with three rocks that mean something, but she doesn't know what.

-🍭

part one | part two

LOLLIPOP. I AM IN FUCKING SHAMBLES DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS FIC IS DOING TO ME. when applebranch called her Silvie i almost started crying actually. and i LOVE all the little nods to the characters that didn't do much in canon, like Lichenstripe and Holly,,, oughghghh. the little hints of bluenewtevie. oaktuft being a dumbass. the goldencelia. this fic is a fucking masterpiece and i love it so much

[sebrrari]

need to find a lover that's gonna last

sebastian vettel/mark webber, au, 4.1k, rated r

aka, the drag au that no one asked for and that i wasn't fully able to flesh out, so i'm posting the dash/not!fic to get it off my chest. happy martian monday to the squad!!

_________

it’s august 30th, 2013, and mark has just signed the last page of the legal paperwork to buy himself out of his future engagements with infiniti red bull racing, effective immediately. they’re going to call up daniel from toro rosso, and mark is going to take the first plane going his way so he can be home in time to start licking his damn wounds before the news hits the press. 

christian shakes his hand and tells him to call if he changes his mind. 

he won’t. he can’t. the last few years took just about everything from him, but not his integrity. he’d never come crawling back to the machine that spit him out on track and let his teammate run him over. 

his phone starts buzzing as he’s crossing the parking lot of the factory - call from sebastian v. 

mark scoffs and swallows a burning feeling, then pops the battery out of the back of the phone and shuts the car door. the driver pulls out of the lot smoothly, and mark doesn’t watch in the rear view mirror as the looming building disappears. 

and, somehow, life goes on. 

_________

freeing himself means no more lavish lifestyle - not that he got quite as extravagant as some of the others when he had the chance. he does the shopping at night, just before the grocery closes, and sends out for most everything else so he doesn’t have to stomach any knowing stares. it takes a few months of skulking around his house (paid for, in cash, with a reasonable savings fund for improvements) and drinking a few too many beers alone before he finally gets back to living. 

there are friends he makes, and people he cuts off. hobbies he tries, old habits he tries his best to quit. and, one spring day, one of his gym buddies invites mark to a brunch where he’ll be performing down in canberra, and mark’s therapist talks him into going - he can leave if he wants to, but he should stay for a fry up, just for his troubles, at least. it’s a hell of a trek, but it’s something to do.

his performing friend ends up being phenomenal - after mark stops looking for his crew cut and tank top, and realizes he’s - she’s - the one in a meter-high blonde wig and impeccable makeup. she lights up the room and takes each proffered dollar out of her patrons’ hands with a wink and a smile. 

mark leaves after his friend bows and exits the lit up, glittery stage, but it’s with a bit of something simmering in his chest. the drive home is a breeze instead of an exercise in teeth grinding and measured breathing. 

he’s straightening up the kitchen after dinner and realizes - he didn’t catch a single person glancing his way or snapping a covert picture of him to tell their mates they saw an all-time formula 1 failure during their meal.  

he calls his friend up the next day, and asks him - her? - to lunch, where he’s enlightened on the culture of drag, and drag brunch, and gender identity. he feels… lighter, and like the world has righted its axis after years of wobbly spinning.

he’s also been kindly informed that he’s been a member of a gay gym in a gay part of town for going on six months now. that gets a laugh out of him, a sound so foreign to his ears now, and he can’t stop once he starts. 

once he’s recovered and paid the tab for them both, he tells evan that he’ll see him at their usual time for an extra difficult weight circuit tomorrow night.

“i’ll bring my sport mode heels, then,” evan says, and mark groans, and is pretty sure that isn’t a thing.  

_________

months later, after a lot of soul searching, and therapy sessions guiding him on how to try new things, and many a craft night with evan and some other local girls, tara rocco makes her debut at a bar’s talent show on a dare. 

it’s been a wonderful exercise in determination (drawing eyebrows on yourself is something that doesn’t come easily), endurance (dancing in a corset with stilettos while remembering lyrics should be officially on the iron man course, he thinks) and competition (a talent show, with a $50 prize, to be tipped to the bar staff when he wins).

his muscles awaken after years of being forced ramrod straight. his entire being stretches back into existence. it's delightful. the applause helps, too. he gets a pretty good round for a 9pm wednesday crowd.

“are you sure you’ve never worn heels before? like, ever?” ray asks while they’re stripping the glue off mark’s natural eyebrows with some kind of industrial solvent that stings like hell. 

“not that i can remember,” mark says, his mouth dry from some stiff drinks and from the makeup remover he got on his tongue. 

“well, love, you should think about wearing them more, because you’re a bloody natural. your proportions are to die for, and you’ve got rhythm. you’d be booking more nights than half the queens in the state on those credentials alone.” 

_________

ray is mark’s first call when he decides to do another talent show, no peer pressure needed. then another, and another, until they decide mark needs a signature look if he’s going to start “getting those bookings you’re entitled to with the way your arms look next to a black leather number like that corset you’ve picked up, mark.” 

it’s like unleashing the marvel within himself, the one he used to know - it’s just shaped differently. there’s prep meetings (to go over the set list, tweak any tracks that lagging or to add a specific song for an event or holiday), press (a few pictures for the venue’s posters and social media, all retouched a bit much for his liking, but he’s choosing his battles), practice sessions (blocking the routine in his open-concept kitchen and living room, with ray laying down post-its to serve as the stage dimensions and evan and his partner acting as an audience for mark to play to), then show time. 

and he’s never known anything but a full fucking send.

the rush feeds him like it always did, even with the stakes so low. he can’t really deny that he loves looking like this - beautiful, sculpted, powerful, in charge.

it’s intoxicating without being consuming, fun and adrenaline-inducing without the sour taste of loss when the lights go down.

when he takes the drag off and wipes his face clean, he’s just mark again - mark who ran, once, but who stands tall now, with a little help from some friends.

and god, his ass looks good in fishnets. it truly does. 

_________

aussie drag culture is insular and so no one really gets a whiff, and he lives pretty comfortably off his bar appearances and an occasional tour spot in peak months.

once every couple years, a promoter calls him up and sounds business-minded and not like they've just found his wikipedia page and intend to add a new section titled Downfall and Public Outrage to it with their fucking scheme. those are the people for whom he hops into a dance studio and gets a routine in shape to trot around a few states, and hey. his heels are shorter and his splits aren't what they used to be, but he still manages to put on a show. 

he keeps in touch with barely a handful of people from his old life, but seb's retirement announcement sends shockwaves big enough that he'd have heard about it if he was six feet under. something like hunger pangs through his core, hollow and longing for the gentle fall into glory and grace he was never afforded. 

but he's happy for seb. he's made his peace with it just like he's made his peace with the fact that red lipstick will never really suit his skin tone and he has to cheat towards purples. there are facts of life, after all.

one of the facts is that what goes around will always come around. at barely 8 am, knocking incessantly and ringing the doorbell for good (ungodly) measure.

he checks the front door camera feed, and thinks he's finally cracked.

but no, seb's really on mark's fucking doorstep, with the same smile on the same face but through layers and layers of time and a lot more facial hair. 

mark's not sure what he must look like - loose gym shorts that hit mid-thigh, smoothly waxed legs, a rumpled and mustard stained shirt from MARY'S POPPIN EST. 2016 ADELAIDE'S FINEST DEBAUCHERY. seb doesn't seem to notice - or care - in the least. he just asks to use the toilet. 

it's the first time mark's heard his voice in person since - since. mark's stomach roils and he can only nod and choke out the directions - down the hall, second door. seb thanks him and makes his way. 

mark goes back to making the coffee, dazedly pulls down a second mug from the cabinet and fishes the sugar out from the bottom shelf of the pantry. seb always took his sweet on early mornings at the track.

mark is just finishing up, kitchen towel in hand to dry a spoon for seb to stir with, when the soft squeak of seb's trainers on the tile snaps him to attention. the pot of coffee is full now - mark realizes just how long he's been waiting for seb to come back in.

he did say the right door, didn't he? he said the second door down the hall. he did. he did.

much like a cat, though, curiosity was always seb's weapon of choice.

"this must look absolutely delicious on you, mark," seb says, and it's a purr of victory to mark's ear, a predator’s grin before its jaw snaps shut around naive prey.

he doesn't want to turn around. he doesn't want to see the corset in seb's delicate grasp - the one that needs a little TLC after last weekend, an eyelet hanging loose off the leather from rough treatment during his finale. he doesn't want to see the laces hanging off the constructed garment, lifeless and boxy without something to wrap around. 

the spoon clatters in the sink. he realizes he’s holding his breath. 

how in the fuck is he going to explain to sebastian vettel that he couldn't fucking stand playing second fiddle and begging for scraps anymore, so he blew his bank accounts to smithereens, fucked off back home humbled and rough, and now he does drag twice a week and tours during peak season.

how is he going to explain to a four-time world champion of motorsport, someone who eclipsed his life to the point that he ran, that he even likes it. 

seb’s made himself his coffee like this is a hotel breakfast bar and not mark's life being turned upside down and shaken by the ankles. 

"i always knew," is one of the first things seb says after he's apologized and laid the corset gently over a kitchen chair. 

mark nearly chokes. "knew?"

"that you were, you know. i mean, it takes one to know the other? is that how you say it?"

"knew?"

"i'm - me too, mark. i'm gay. queer, if we're putting a finer point on it. not that crossdressing is-” 

seb sucks on the spoon, then lays it on a napkin and sighs. 

“oh, hell. mick gave me such a good talk about this, and i am putting my foot in my mouth. i really do mean to be better about this. i have so much reading to do, now that i have more time, i must sound so foolish. forgive me."

"you're gay."

"yes. and i thought-"

"you thought.” 

"i thought a lot of things, but then you were gone. i have no idea what you have even been up to. and now that i am here, i feel as though maybe that was on purpose.” seb takes another sip and swallows carefully. “i did not mean to just barge back in and-"

“but you did.” that's exactly what seb did - barge. mark can feel angry heat coil itself around his spine and get his pulse going. 

it gets tense at the breakfast table while they continue their stilted conversation, but mark susses out that seb thinks the corset is some fetish thing - he still doesn't know know.

small, twisted mercies.

seb leaves eventually, around lunch time. the hollow feeling is still floating heavy in mark's gut, but it's not as painful as he thought it'd be to accept the hug seb pulls him in for, to say sure when seb says they should meet up one more time before seb goes back to europe. he says he's in queensland for a month, some eco-vacation-caravan-docu-whatever that he hopes to invest in has him here to pitch him and let him get his hands a little dirty in the bush.

he trusts seb to not like, tell the fucking papers or whatever someone might do with this information (nando comes to mind, since mark is feeling especially bitey). but it’s not like it’s a secret, either. he’s just been lucky until now - lucky that he fell so far, so fast, that the bright lights and nosy pundits of f1 don’t stoop to his level.

it’s been a week and no one comes calling. no one emails him asking for a fishy interview. the publicist he still pays - a joke of a retainer, if he’s honest, bless her - doesn’t text him. 

he does his usual show at his usual regionally-famous bar, and gets his usual amount of not-as-much-as-you-might-think in tips.

he gets the mended corset back from his seamstress and hangs it up carefully in the closet next to the others, buttery black leather all lined up in a row.

there’s one pushed a little farther back than those in regular rotation, still shiny and hardly worn. it had seemed a little on the nose when he tried it on after buying it online one night, a few glasses of chardonnay too deep in his favorite leather website. 

it’s red for the bulls he couldn’t wrangle, for the misdeeds that put him out on his ass. 

he fishes it off the rack and caresses it, sets the laces right, then carefully tightens it around his waist and turns to the mirror.

and he knows, as he poses for himself, checks his silhouette, skims his eyes across the shoes laid in pairs on the floor against the wall, exactly what his opening number will be next week to kick off his summer tour.

what he doesn’t know is who is going to be sitting three rows back and dead center when the lights go down, the curtains part, and mark makes his hips swivel and sway to the opening synth hits of "little red corvette."

_________

seb is waiting at the stage door exit when mark comes through it, and mark tries to guess how long he must’ve been waiting here. he'd spotted seb in the audience during the third number of the evening, and like a true bred professional, he kept going. he didn’t run. he kept going. 

now, though, with the adrenaline worn off and his quads killing him, he just wants answers. 

“you-” mark stutters. “how did you know?” 

seb licks his lips and smiles playfully. it’s only because mark had known him for so long that he doesn’t mistake it for venomous. 

“well,” seb says, dragging the word out, “they do advertise your shows, don’t they? i saw it in the paper.”

“bullshit,” mark scoffs. “you wouldn’t buy a paper, it’s wasteful. why are you here, seb?”

seb kicks himself off the brick wall of the theater and steps towards mark - mark steps back just as nonchalantly, a dance in keeping his distance that he could do with his eyes closed - but seb doesn’t back down. he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“you could’ve called.” 

seb does scoff, then, the first hint of frustration mark’s seen out of him since old team meetings and press conferences. it hits a nerve, but it’s a dull pain that makes itself known then retreats. 

“would you have answered?” 

mark casts his eyes downward, caught in the truth. 

“i really enjoyed tonight, mark. you’re a true performer. i want to hear all about how you come up with these shows. can we go somewhere and talk?” seb asks, still pressing at the opening he sees. 

mark can’t suss out if seb really wants to know all that, if he’s really telling the truth. but he remembers how the world didn’t come crashing down after he let seb in the last time. he breathes - in for three, hold for three, out for three. 

“okay,” mark says, clears his throat. “alright. my feet are fucking killing me, though. let’s just go back to the hotel.” 

_________

they talk, sure. there was definitely talking - seb’s always had a way with words that unravels mark to a point no one else can. seb casts a lifeline with his earnestness and reels mark in with his humility and wit, and it’s like all the anger he thought he still had isn’t where he thought he left it. there are other, smaller jagged edges that need examining, but the big wound has closed up while he was assuming it still festered.

there were other things that led them to the position they’re in now, though- mark on top of seb’s bare body in a chain hotel’s queen bed, the mattress squeaking as they get comfortable.

he’s moving on instinct, all groans and animal desires. it’s been so, so long since someone’s gotten under his skin enough to bring him to this point - or maybe someone never left their spot there, buried just like he thought all his racing past was. 

he doesn’t want to think about that anymore, or to talk, though. he just wants. 

“i-” mark inhales deeply, gets the smell of seb’s lavender and pine soap, then something muskier underneath. he holds his breath, devours the scent like he’s starved for it. 

mark wants him. he wants seb so badly he’s on fire with it after denying himself for so long. 

“say it again,” seb gasps, and mark bites down on seb’s neck just enough to pinch, then kisses the spot wetly and makes his way down seb’s chest. 

“i want you, seb,” mark groans hoarsely, like he’s worked a sore muscle into relaxing. it’s an intoxicating hit of relief. he sags towards seb’s body, ruts his cock against him over and over again until he glides smooth with sweat and precome. 

“mark, you can-“ mark noses back up to seb’s throat and kisses his adam’s apple open-mouthed, rubs his lips against the stubble there until they’re red and tingling.  

“you should,” seb corrects, his voice thin but sure.  “you should fuck me. before this is over too soon, no?”

the haze in mark’s mind retreats a little. he blinks and gives a parting lick to seb’s pulse point, gets one more thrust of his hips against seb’s soft stomach before he lifts himself up, arms on either side of seb’s ribcage. 

he hasn’t fucked anyone in quite some time, and he hadn’t let himself really think- 

he needs to get out of the habit of thinking, it seems, when it comes to seb. because with him, he can just be. he can just trust, if what his gut is telling him remains true. 

he can just want. 

and he can have. 

he doesn’t ask seb if he’s sure - he’s smarter than that, at least. he knows now that seb goes after what he truly wants, only offers what he’s already been ready to give. 

he just cups seb’s face with a shaking hand and kisses him slowly, fire on his tongue and an ache in his chest, let’s the spark of anticipation charge up til it’s consuming him whole. 

“can i go slow?” mark asks against seb’s lips. “it’s been so long since… since.”

“we have all the time we need, mark.” seb bites his lip for a moment, then whines and smiles up at mark with the mischief that makes mark’s good sense go out the door. “but let’s get started, shall we?” 

_________ 

in the time between summer club season closing and next spring, there’s a whole book’s worth of development. there’s a journey of shame to acceptance for mark because he almost got away with seb thinking this was a fetish, and that fetishes are normal and okay and can be locked behind a door - when you actually remember to bloody lock it - but to mark it's so much worse. 

because it’s not a fetish - it’s his livelihood, and how does he even look millionaire activist and beloved hero sebastian vettel in the eye once he knows mark dances in a tight corset and a barely there skirt for money?

he does, though. he does. 

he can hold his own in 4-inch pumps against even the youngest queens because he lost a lot of things, but never his competitive drive or the muscle tone in his calves. and he didn’t think that could matter to a man like seb, who’s off to see the world and save it bit by bit with a dazzling, crinkly smile and a soft touch of kindness for everyone he meets.

but seb is there, telling him it does matter, simply because it’s mark. that it’s mark that seb’s here for, and the rest they’ll figure out. 

and they will, because they’re not ones to quit. not for something that truly, truly matters to their hearts.  

it's also about love and self acceptance and queerness and kinkiness and how mark looks hot and dangerous and masculine and divinely feminine all at once. it’s about how seb can't believe he ever let mark run away without telling him that he is enough to love in every form, and how mark grows to believe him in time, in his own shape. 

_________

and there's another side to the story, one that's waited patiently and knew to bide its time to be heard.

this side thinks that, if things were different, maybe seb wouldn't be treated to the sight of mark bent over the same kitchen table he was ready to lunge over just a few months ago. and how maybe mark wouldn't trust seb to smear his lipstick and untie his laces, to gently pull his tights down and off.

this side is about how, if he hadn’t called in a favor from jenson to get mark’s address after years of restraining himself from searching, seb might not have the absolute privilege of dropping to his knees and worshiping mark until they’re both full to bursting with something seb’s not sure he’s ever felt - even as fireworks erupted over his car in abu dhabi what seems like a century ago, even as he took his final laps in the kind of machine he spent his life trying to tame. 

this is something new, something precious and strong that seb wants to make bloom in vivid color. he could spend the rest of his days learning the taste of whatever this is. 

seb signs on as a producer for the ecological reserve’s new sustainable tourism and documentary project. he cancels his flights and books his rented, sensible bungalow indefinitely. 

he’s hardly there. 

because he’s with mark and he can’t get enough, even when it’s tough. even when mark spooks, even when he tests seb’s patience like he’s always done - seb wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than where he’s meant to be, and that place cannot be anywhere but with mark, and he knows it. 

because when seb watches mark onstage, with his smoky eyes and his long, mesmerizing legs, his mouth waters. he longs in a way he didn’t think he’d ever be able to again.

and when he meets mark backstage after opening night of this newly revamped show - rev tara’s engine on tour! - with a bouquet of red, red roses in hand, mark’s right there with his makeup half off and sweats pulled over his fishnets, and it makes seb’s pulse jolt. 

he’s real. what they have is shaping up to be, too.

he just has to go get what he's after, and something about mark has always made him relish the chase. 

mark catches sight of him in the big mirror he’s seated in front of and his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, but he softens into a grin. seb smiles back, bites his lip.

“these are for you,” he says, and offers the bouquet. mark stands immediately, takes the flowers and sniffs them indulgently before depositing them gently on the vanity among his tubes of lipstick and eyeshadow palettes. seb was ready to feel silly for bringing flowers to a drag show, but mark takes them for the gesture they are and treats them like something precious, something greater than the handful they exist as. 

he rises on his stocking feet and steps up til he’s toe to toe with seb. there’s a shadow of eyeliner still clinging to his waterline, accenting the spark in his eyes as it smolders and crackles something electric. 

“thank you, i love them, sebi,” mark says, his breath skimming seb’s lips, and seb can’t let himself miss.

he steadies himself by the dip in mark’s cinched waist, and kisses him to unleash everything he’s been holding, lets his heart flow right out of his chest and through his lips. 

mark covers seb’s hand with his bigger one, his palm soft and warm and trembling, and receives the love seb has been waiting to give. 

___________________________

thanks @kritischetheologie @mwebber and @vetterrari and the other people who i made read this awhile ago!!!! love u all for being so encouraging and unhinged with me - you make this fandom what it is xxxxxx

this thing's google doc is titled "spreading you open is the only way of knowing you," a fine line reference but also something i'm finding to be a little too astute. count yer days harry if i ever see you in person i have my therapists superbill in my purse with your name on it.

[eris-snow]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮

✨When you play instruments with him.

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, fluff, bakugou's birthday series 2023

A year ago, Bakugou found out he liked you. Wonder what will be the case in a year's time.

Bakugou was clearing his phone when he found the year-old video. It's the one where you and him locking eyes, while the melody gets richer, and his rhythm gets wilder. Bakugou groans and runs a hand down his face, gritting his teeth.

There go his plans on freeing up storage.

-

Bakugou remembers the sound of the violin snapping him out of his daydream when he takes the liberty to open his balcony door. It was one of the few days a little lighter than the rest in his first year.

His trip to the gym after school was completed and his homework was finished. Bakugou had to say he was pretty damn proud of himself for finishing the major assignments while the sun was still up.

Yanking the balcony door open, he steps out and takes a whiff of fresh air...

To be greeted with the sound of the violin tugging at his heartstrings. The playing is beautiful, and when he glances down, he knows why.

Your fingers grasp the instrument delicately with a bow in the other hand as the sound of your expressive playing travels to Bakugou's ears.

"Of fucking course," Bakugou mutters to himself, squinting down at the person gracefully moving along to the music. "Of course it's you."

Annoying, perfect ray of Sunshine and rainbows.

That was the second time that week that he found you there showing off your beautiful talent in the middle of nowhere, expressing yourself to the whole of Japan even though no one paid you any mind.

Bakugou has to admit that you're amazing. He still can't figure out why you never told Jiro you could play when they were gathering members for the band. Instead, you chose to help out the special effects people, because your Quirk was one of the only ones suited for the job.

Another note from your violin shatters Bakugou's thoughts as he sees your small figure continue your little song, utterly oblivious to his watchful eyes. It fascinates Bakugou to no end how you express yourself through music.

He's always adored the drums for that reason. There are things to care about besides slamming the drumsticks onto the cymbals and drums, but he doesn't have to worry about how hard he needs to hit each drum or his delivery of each hit. He can simply let his anger out on the instrument, and call it a masterpiece.

You make it look easy, though.

Your playing soothes the creases on his forehead and washes away his worries, and he smiles a little when he sees you dancing around the field while still holding the instrument in hand, having the time of your life in your own little world. His heart jumps in his chest.

He wants to join you.

"Sunshine!" Before Bakugou knows it, he's calling out to you and jumping off his balcony to reach you sooner.

You stop midway through the song, glancing up just in time to scream at Bakugou hurling himself towards the ground right next to you.

Bakugou shuts you up by landing safely, folding his arms across his chest. "I can hear you from the damn dorms, idiot."

You blink, processing his words before flushing with embarrassment. Oh. He's here to yell at you about disturbing his sleep or something.

Fantastic.

You're about to mutter out an apology when Bakugou utters his next words.

"Do you want to play together?" It's almost a whisper, so you thought you'd misheard him. "Come again?" You breathe, still recovering from the heart attack he gave you 5 seconds ago. With that, Bakugou loses all his marbles.

"Just fucking play a duet with me, Sunshine!"

And that was how you got here. The dorm is quiet apart from your music, and multiple pairs of eyes are fixated on you and Bakugou as you play a duet together right there in the living room.

At first, it was difficult to play when your classmates started filtering into the room, especially when you saw Kirishima filming it. However, one shared look with Bakugou and his mischievous grin as he spun one of the drumsticks above his head was enough motivation to get you going.

You and Bakugou have chemistry that is indescribable. Whenever you fall back into the melody, he fires up the rhythm, opting for a complicated dynamic that has balanced euphony and solid rhythm.

The communication isn't verbalised, but it's there like your friendship was above words and relied solely on feelings.

Because as you both flow along with the song, your eyes keep gravitating back to the blond, and his to you. The both of you had tuned out most of the outer world, the snickers and the "ohhs" and "ahhs". Bakugou wouldn't change a second of it. He missed it.

He missed when it was just the two of you, jamming out to old, hardcore songs in your makeshift daydream.

-

Little does Bakugou know, that you're in your room, rewatching the video as well as you were trying to find a specific photo for one of your homework assignments.

It was long forgotten now.

That was the moment you fell for him. That moment lit a spark in you. It was a flashing red siren that said "I LIKE THIS GUY NOW, DEAL WITH IT." But how could you not?

He sat there playing the drums like a complete professional, matching your pacing and interpretation so masterfully that you got so lost in the realm of feelings that you never wanted the song to end.

Maybe one day, when you're less busy and have gotten over your stupid crush on him, you can muster the courage to pick up the violin again.

Maybe this time, it'll be you who has enough courage to initiate it.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Unwanted (Chapter 5)

Dark! Cheating! Bucky x Reader

Warning: Cheating

I wanted to break my own heart when I wrote this. I can’t say I was Wholly successful, but it stung a bit. 

The polls have spoken, Unwanted will become a full-blown series, I have gotten a few messages about making this a lighter fic and giving the reader a happier ending. Unfortunately, I had already created the outline, and didn't feel like changing the direction the series was going, however in the future I will pay more mind to this feedback. In the meantime, I will provide a warning for when the good times end for the reader. Thank you for supporting my works.

Series List

Note: Finale Chapter, mostly ties loose ends

Frank was dead. 

Bucky thought to share this news with you on the car ride home, he said the ambulance didn’t get to the apartment on time, but something told you that he had something to do with it, considering how nonchalant his voice sounded.

When you started crying you couldn’t stop, and this annoyed Bucky beyond reason. 

“Bequiet, there are plenty of reasons to not cry, like the old asian lady,”

You could hear the thinly veiled threat in his voice, and did your best to smother your tears by devoting your full attention to the newborn in your arms. 

It was a boy. 

Bucky wanted to name him James Jr. but you shut that idea down when you said you preferred Frank. 

His fists had clenched, but he compromised when you mentioned that you liked the name Finn. 

You chose this name because there was a show, The adventures of Finn and Jake, that you and Frank had binged together. You briefly remembered him mentioning that it was definitely one of his favorites, and you felt a sense of  triumph that you still got to give your child a name with a relation to Frank, without Bucky knowing. 

Bucky didn’t know this, and he probably never would.

Although he still insisted on giving the baby his surname, and asserted that the second name should be James. 

Finn James Barnes. 

How awkward, but you relented.

When you do get to his house, you immediately see Lily, in the living room, watching TV with a somber look on her face. She looks up, and when she makes eye contact with you, her face sours. She quickly unlocks the wheels of her chair and rolls away. 

“She has nowhere else to go, so I’m letting her stay as long as she needs,” he explains.

“That’s none of my business, I plan on going back home with my baby as soon as I recover,” you reply.

“What home?” he asks. 

“My home,” you sit on the couch and find that Lily had been watching ‘The adventures of Finn and Jake’. You freeze to  keep yourself from chuckling at the irony, the moment, however, bittersweet.

“Alright, let's get some things straight, first, this is your home, I’ve already taken care of the apartment.”

Your back straightens “How-”

“It’s not as hard as you think when we’re still married, especially with a crime happening in the unit.”

“We’re not married I-”

“You what?” he interrupts “If you’d like we can go to town hall to see if ANY divorce papers had been processed under your name, I don’t even think they received any paperwork to file,”

The more he opened his mouth the worse things seemed to get. 

“Right!,” he claps his hands together “And second, I don’t want you working, you’re staying home full time to take care of me and the baby. You may need to do a few things when it comes to Lily, but nothing excessive”

Before this entire debacle, you remembered Bucky used to be very adamant about you being a housewife/Stay-at-home mom. It’s why you had quit your job in the first place, and now it just makes you sick to your stomach, that out of everyone involved in this mess he got to keep his happy ending.

Many things happened since your return from the hospital, Bucky had forced you to visit your parents again. 

At first they were happy that they still had a grandchild after everything that had happened. But it seemed like they had placed the blame on you for what happened to Lily. How it wasn’t fair that you got to keep your baby and she was forced to stay stagnant. 

You told Bucky you wanted to disown them and you didn’t want them around your baby anymore. 

To your surprise, he completely agreed. 

Bucky had a state of the art nursery built for the Baby, complete with a thumbprint scanner that regulated who could come in and out.

When you first found out you thought that maybe this was to prevent Lily from hurting Finn, since she had no access. But as they got into more details. 

It turns out that you lost access to the room between 10 pm and 5 am, and if the baby wasn’t in bed by 9:30 pm the room would set off an alarm. 

Only Bucky was allowed in the room 24/7 and he was the only one who was able to disengage or override the alarm.

The only time you were allowed to have access in a 24 hr period was when Bucky went out for a mission, which was rare. And when he did the entire house was on lockdown until he came back.

You asked what would happen to them if he never came back, or if an emergency occurred, and all he said was that there were parameters in place for those situations.

And Lily, poor idiotic Lily. 

She was angry with you for the longest time, during which you kept Finn as far away as possible when you had to deal with her. 

It was a Sunday, and Bucky had been out on a two day mission, which meant that the house was on lockdown. 

You were bringing Lily her dinner, and you noticed her face was wet from crying.

“You ruined my life,” she said, tears running down her cheeks and falling from her chin. 

This made you angry, throughout this entire situation the only thing you were willing to take responsibility for was Frank’s death. You felt that had you not provoked Bucky, he might still be alive, living his life and you said as much. 

“And you had to keep the baby too?” she responds.

“You stupid bitch” you whispered, and she gasped, never having had your anger directed at her “ Had you not cheated on Frank, or slept with Bucky when I opened my home to you,you would have never landed in this position.”

“You are a complete fuck up, you walk around setting fires and burning bridges in everyones life, and act like you’re completely innocent.” you cross your arms.” Now, Frank-,” your voice broke speaking out his name “-is dead'' you whispered “and you can’t walk”

You got in her face “You have no one else to blame for your situation but yourself” You dropped her food on her desk and walked away slamming the door on your way out.

Lily had gone mute after that. Choosing to roll around as an empty shell instead of facing the chaos that she caused. You felt terrible, and a part of you wished you could just take it back and allow her to live in her delusional headspace. 

As soon as you were able to, Bucky made sure that you would complete your wifely duties to the fullest.

It started 2 weeks after you arrived at his home, he pinned you down and fucked you into submission throughout the night. And every night after about a month you fought back until you realized that your situation was futile. 

Tonight, as he took you from behind, pulling out all sorts of sounds from you, you couldn’t help but think that this was not what you wanted for your life. You never expected to be so miserable in such an expensive house, in a beautifully decorated master bedroom, on top of upscale Egyptian cotton sheets. 

He removed himself from you so that he could turn you to face him. Once he re-entered your cunt, his lips quickly found yours, and you could feel him reaching his climax. 

Kissing. 

You never expected someone like Bucky to be so turned on by kissing that it would push him over the edge. But everytime, it worked without fail. 

When he was done violating you, he’d wrap you in his arms, and fall asleep, as if you were some Happy couple. 

The next morning, you rushed to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. You didn’t know how long you sat over the toilet, but it wasn’t long before Bucky had a hand rubbing circles around your back and a pregnancy test in your face. 

You looked up to see his signature shit-eating grin, and your heart dropped to your stomach. 

You didn’t know if you could do this again.

End.

Taglist:

@cjand10 @lovely-geek @vicmc624

@stuffyownswrld @buckysmainhxe @goobysgoobers

@chemtrails-club @buckystevelove @kentokaze @notlive06

@bruher @lovely-geek @bluebluesoblue @pattiemac1

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

The Seer

Ao3 Link

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Prophet of Lies

“How’s it looking, doc?” Usopp jokes weakly as he feels Chopper step away from him.

Chopper hasn’t said anything to him as he looked at his injury: unwound his bandages, poked, muttered softly to himself, dabbed something on the wound, rebound the bandages. But he’d said nothing, just worked in complete silence.

Usopp had tried not to let that make him nervous, but it did. It really, really did.

“It’s looking…okay,” Chopper says, and Usopp can practically feel his stare boring into his face. “They took pretty good care of your injury. I’m not seeing any signs of infection, so I just changed it out and put on some ointment. Antibiotics’ll probably be a good idea for this too, so I’ll put you on a course. And you’ll need rest and food too.”

“Okay,” Usopp says. “What about…you know. My vision? What can we do about that?”

“Usopp…” Chopper begins hesitatingly, and Usopp interrupts him.

“I don’t care if it takes forever,” He says, hoping the desperation isn’t too clear in his voice. “I’m willing to, you know. Do whatever it takes to bring it back. Surgery, anything. You name it, I’ll do it.”

“Usopp,” Chopper says again, then stops. He hears the scrape of a stool on the wooden floor, and then feels Chopper grasp at his hand. “Usopp,” Chopper repeats, and there’s a trembling resolve in his voice. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do about this.”

Usopp’s mouth goes dry. “But,” He squeaks. “But…but you’re Chopper. You’re the best doctor ever and you’re going to cure all disease and you…and you…”

He hears Chopper’s breath hiccup. The hoof on his arm is shaking. “I know,” Chopper says, voice breaking. “I know. I’m sorry. I know. But this…Usopp, this I can’t fix. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Usopp can’t….he can’t…

“I don’t understand,” He says. “I…you…what do I do? How do I…how do I get it back?”

The hoof squeezes him harder. “You can’t, Usopp,” Chopper trembles out. “Your sight…it’s gone. The connections of your nerves to your eyes are completely severed. Your eyes themselves are destroyed. They won’t work again. I’m so, so sorry. I promised you, I promised the others…but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Usopp shakes his head. “I was…” he says, and then stops. The words just won’t come.

How…what is he going to do? The only way he’d gotten through his time on the Vance ship was that he’d known Chopper could fix this. But now…but now…

Usopp can’t do this. He can’t.

He shakes Chopper off his arm, bringing them to his face. He hides into his hands, craving the darkness for once. “Leave please,” He whispers, trying his absolute best not to scream.

He can hear Chopper’s hesitance. “Usopp…?”

“Leave,” He whispers into his hands. “Please.”

He hears Chopper whisper an “okay,” before the stool scrapes again, and seconds after that the door gently clicks shut.

Usopp turns on the cot, curling into a ball. The scream finally emerges into his hands.

Slowly, it tapers off, and Usopp just…floats into his thoughts. Into the nothingness of the darkness in his head and out of it.

-

Sanji doesn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t known what to do when Chopper emerged, teary-eyed, from his office, and let everyone know that there was nothing he could do, that Usopp’s sight was permanently gone. He hadn’t known what to do when Luffy whirled around at the news, shoulders shaking, and stormed off, nor when the Marimo hurried after their captain. He hadn’t even known what to do when Nami-San burst into tears, nor when Robin-Chan immediately enveloped her in a hug.

All he knows to do is stand there, uselessly fidgeting with his lighter. The helpless feeling that had dogged him since Vance first attacked the ship, when he’d done…whatever it was he’d done, and brought Sanji down to his knees. It’s like he’d never recovered from that: always on his back foot, always struggling against the current, drowning in his lack of action.

And still, he stands there, just watching.

“Sanji?”

He practically jumps out of his skin, turns to find Chopper watching him. His eyes fill, but don’t spill over. “What can I do?” He asks immediately.

Chopper wipes away at his eyes. “Usopp doesn’t want to s—talk to me right now,” He says. “But he still needs looking after. Can you…can you make him something, some broth, and bring it to him, please? He needs to start getting proper nutrition.”

Finally. This is something Sanji can do. “Yeah,” He says, already turning around. “I’ll do that now.”

He runs off to the galley, head full of plans and prep and before he knows it, he’s standing in front of Chopper’s office, hand hesitant over the doorknob.

Do your job, he tells himself, and twists the knob open.

Usopp, lying on the cot, reacts instantly at the sound, sitting up in place. “Who’s there?” He asks nervously, cocking his head.

It’s all Sanji can do not to gasp. He hasn’t seen Usopp since he was taken, hasn’t seen him injured, and it’s hard to see. The bandages around Usopp’s eyes are hard to look at, and his eyes refuse to linger on them. What are they doing to do about this? How the hell is he going to help?

“It’s me,” He says finally, shutting the door gently. “I’ve brought you some broth. It tastes good, I promise.”

“Sanji,” Usopp breathes out. His hands twitch on the cot. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Sanji’s breathing hitches. “Good to have you back,” He replies, heading towards Usopp. He taps Usopp’s hand, then lifts the bowl to it. He pushes a spoon into Usopp’s other hand. “You got this?”

Usopp’s hand close around the items, awkwardly fumbling them into a comfortable position. “Yeah,” He says, “I got it. Thanks.”

He sits there, holding the bowl and spoon, but doesn’t move more. “Come on,” Sanji says. “I made that special for you. Don’t waste it, or…”

He trails off.

“Or what?” Usopp says, an empty smile spreading across his face. “You’ll beat me up?”

“I might,” Sanji says. He’s never felt so off-kilter in his life, but he’s going to try. For Usopp. “We don’t waste food on this ship.”

Somehow, that works. Usopp starts to slowly spoon the broth into his mouth. “Thanks,” He says.

Sanji hovers awkwardly, then lowers himself onto a chair near the cot. “Anytime,” He replies.

They sit there, silence suffusing them, as Usopp slowly gets through the food. It settles something inside Sanji’s stomach, seeing that. That’s something fixed. If he can do anything, it’s make sure that everyone has all the nutrition that they need.

Suddenly, Usopp’s spoon clatters back into the bowl. “Shit,” He gasps out, and Sanji leaps forward to save the bowl. “I can’t believe I…I forgot…”

“What is it?” Sanji says frantically, getting closer, peering at Usopp’s face. “Do you need me to get Chopper?”

“No,” Usopp says, then lifts his hands, dropping them on Sanji’s forearms. “I forgot to tell you guys about Vance. You need to know.”

Sanji grabs Usopp’s elbows in return. “Know what?”

“Vance,” Usopp says, and Sanji feels a pulse of anger in his gut at the name. “He’s crazy. He thinks there’s some sort of…substance, he said? Out there that’ll get rid of people’s devil fruits. Everyone’s in danger. We need to tell the others.”

Sanji nods, before realizing that Usopp can’t see it. “Okay,” He says. “We can do that.”

“And,” Usopp says. He hesitates, then squeezes Sanji’s forearms. “That’s why he wanted me there. Because…because he thinks I have, like…visions? And that my stories I tell, they come true? And…the thing is. I think…I think he might be right? I told some stories, recently, that felt…different, and I’ve had some stories that came true…”

Sanji blows out a small breath. “Yeah,” He says, hesitant. “We knew about that part. We got some info about why they came after you, and, well,” He taps on Usopp’s elbow. “We already. We already knew about the stories. Like, from the beginning.”

He feels Usopp tense. “What?”

Sanji wishes Usopp could see his face, read the cues there. “Yeah,” He says. “I mean. Anyone who listened to you tell your stories could find out. And we all listen to your stories. We noticed.”

Usopp sucks in a sharp breath. “You did?” He asks, quiet.

“Yeah,” Sanji says. “We all knew, we just never…talked about it.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Usopp. Maybe we should’ve, I don’t know. But that was just…part of you, part of the Usopp package. We all just kinda rolled with it.”

Usopp shakes his head. “Did everyone know about this but me?”

“We all believe in you,” Sanji says. “Always have.”

Usopp sniffles. “That’s why,” He says. “My eyes. You know. Vance said that that’s how he could trigger the stories…the visions. If I didn’t rely on my eyes, I could…”

Sanji’s the one who tenses this time. “This…this was on purpose?” He asks. “Vance did this to you?”

“Yeah,” Usopp says quietly. He starts to slowly pull away. “That’s what he said.”

“I’ll kill him,” Sanji promises, as Usopp’s arms slip out of his grasp.

“No,” Usopp says. “I didn’t mean to-no. I just meant…I need to tell everyone. Vance is dangerous and he’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of devil fruits. He’ll probably come after me. Everyone needs to know so we can be ready for them. Can you do that? Please?”

“Okay,” Sanji says. He gently lifts his arms back to himself. “I’ll tell everyone. We’ll still kill him, though.”

Usopp mouth twitches into an almost-smile. “Well,” He says. “I guess I wouldn’t be too mad about that.”

“You’re damn right you wouldn’t,” Sanji says, an answering smile growing on his face.

Usopp’s face drops again. “Sanji?” He asks. “Can you also tell Chopper I’m not mad at him? It’s not his fault or anything, I just…I’m still kind of…you know.”

“Sure,” Sanj says. “I understand. You know. Considering.”

“And…” Usopp says. “Can you tell Luffy to come? After you tell everyone what we talked about? I need to talk to him too.”

“Yeah,” Sanji says, standing up. “I’ll go do that now.” He takes a deep breath. “And, Usopp?”

“Yeah?” Usopp says, head turned in his general direction.

“I’m sorry,” Sanji says. “For everything.”

Usopp’s breath hitches. “Me too,” He says.

-

It doesn’t take too long for Luffy to show up.

Usopp had thought he’d had time. He needed the time to build his resolve, to strengthen it. He was going to need all the stubbornness and strength left in him to approach this conversation. Luffy is the scariest opponent he is ever going to face, and that’s why he had needed time to prepare to talk to him.

Sanji must’ve really kicked everyone into gear, because it feels like almost no time has passed between Sanji’s departure and the door bursting back open. “Usopp?” He hears, and it’s the sound of his captain, finally.

Despite everything, the sound makes him want to cry. “Luffy!” He says, reaching his arms out.

Luffy is not like Franky, not like Chopper, not like Sanji. He doesn’t treat Usopp like he’s going to break. Instead, Usopp hears him break into a run, and then lets out an ooof as a body collides with his. Limbs, long and rubbery, twirl around his torso and squeeze tight.

“Usopp!” Luffy practically shouts, right above Usopp’s ear. “We missed you!”

Usopp body hurts, but he tries to squeeze back just as hard. “I missed you too,” He chokes out.

“Sanji told us everything,” Luffy says, tone suddenly dropping. “I’m sorry Usopp. You shouldn’t have been hurt like that. I’ll never let anything like that happen ever again.”

Usopp squeezes him even tighter. “It’s not your fault,” He says. “But, Luffy. I need to talk to you about something, okay? It’s serious.”

At this, he feels Luffy unwind himself from around Usopp, ending up curled up right next to him. “Okay,” He says. “What is it?”

Usopp takes a deep breath. Resolve, He tells himself. “Where are we headed to now?”

“Oh,” Luffy says. “Camie is taking us to this place. An island or something. Sabaody? It’ll take us to Fishman Kingdom!”

Usopp nods. “Okay,” He says. “I want to ask you for your permission for something.”

Luffy’s voice sounds confused. “For what?”

Resolve. “When we get to Sabaody,” He says. “I’m going to ask your permission to leave the ship”

There’s silence for a moment. “You don’t need my permission for that,” Luffy says. “I think everyone will want to leave the ship to go to Sabaody to see-I mean, you know, to explore. Even if you still don’t feel well I could carry you around.”

“No,” Usopp says. Resolve. “That’s not what I meant. I meant…to leave the ship. Leave the crew.”

The silence this time is shocked. “What?” Luffy says. “What do you mean, leave the crew?”

“Everything’s different now,” Usopp says. “I can’t…you know. Do a lot of things that I used to do before. So it’s time for me to leave. To move on.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Luffy says. “I know you’re hurting, and that what happened to you is really bad. But that doesn’t mean you leave. That means you need to stay even more, so we can help you figure out what to do next.”

Resolve. “No,” Usopp says. “Luffy, listen. I want you to listen to me, okay? Things are different now, and they always will be. I’m not like you, or Zoro, or Sanji. Everything about me, everything I do, relies completely on my sight. I’m a sniper, and that means I use my sight. My work on engineering, or even repairs: that’s all sight based, I need to see to do that. And even my art-” And here his voice cracks, oh god in never gonna draw again I’m never gonna see color again I’m never gonna see the sunset. “That’s all based on my sight. You have to understand. Everything that I do on this ship? I can’t do it anymore.”

“So we adapt,” Luffy says, and Usopp feels him lean in further. Their knees touch. “We adapt your role here. But you can’t give up on us! You can’t give up on the Brave Warrior of the Sea!”

“What about the Pirate King?” Usopp says, voice rising. “World’s Greatest Swordsman? Map of the World? All Blue? Curing every Disease? The True History? Sailing the World? Laboon? All of them matter too. And with me here, they’ll all be held back. I can’t do that. I can’t hold anyone back.”

Luffy voice rises too. “You won’t!” He says. “All of those dreams are still alive, no matter what. We can help you and achieve our dreams. And the Brave Warrior of the Sea is just as important as any of the others. I won’t let you give up on him!”

“But I can’t be your sniper!” Usopp says, yelling now. “I can’t protect you, I can’t fight with you! I can’t do my job here, the reason I’m here at all. Why would you even want to keep me around?”

“I didn’t bring you to be my sniper!” Luffy yells back. “You didn’t even become my sniper until you were already on my crew. I wanted you with us for you, not for the sniper. You were the recruit. I don’t care about the job. You can be our storyteller now, you already were anyway. None of those are good reasons to leave,” And here, Luffy’s voice breaks. “Again. Why would you want to leave again? We just got you back.”

Despite all his efforts, Usopp feels the resolve start to leak out of him. “I can’t hold you back,” He repeats, dropping to a whisper. “I can’t be a burden on you all. That would be the worst thing in the world.”

“You aren’t,” Luffy says. “Look. I’m gonna ask you this and you have to answer honestly, okay. Do you want to leave? Because if you promise me that you really want to leave, I’ll let you go. I won’t get in the way. Is this what you actually want?”

Usopp swallows. His throat clicks. He opens his mouth, pulling on his resolve for the yes.

Nothing comes out.

“See?” Luffy says. He must lean forward further, because Usopp feels his forehead bonk against his shoulder. “You don’t want to go. So don’t! We’ll figure this out together. Your dream can stay too. It’ll be ok. I promise. It’ll all be ok.”

All the preparation in the world wouldn’t, couldn’t, have prepared him for Luffy. All the resolve he could have ever had is not strong enough to face him. Luffy can reach right into his heart and pull out the truth, every single time.

Usopp’s voice quivers. “I’ll try,” He says. “I promise I’ll try. But if I can’t be useful anymore…”

“We’ll see,” Luffy says. “We can talk about it. But you just being you is enough for me.” He moves his forehead off Usopp’s shoulder, and Usopp feels him rustle around. “Here,” He says, and Usopp feels something touch his head.

He knows what this is. “No!” He says frantically, lifting his hands up, blocking Luffy’s. “Don’t do that. Please don’t do that. I don’t…I don’t deserve that. Please.”

Luffy’s voice is steady. “Usopp,” He says. “I need you to look after this for me for now, okay? It’s really good at helping you find your dreams. Protect yours and protect mine too. I’m trusting you, okay?”

Despite everything, despite him trying to leave again, despite Water 7 still echoing in both their heads…Luffy still trusts him with his most important thing. How can he say no to that? How can he deny him this?

Usopp’s arms drop, and he feels Luffy complete the action, and place the straw hat firmly on his head.

“There,” Luffy says, sounding satisfied. “You trust us? Then trust us to get through this. Together.”

Usopp loses his final bit of resolve. His head drops, overwhelmed with all the trust and love and respect of his captain. “Yeah,” He chokes through his tears. “Okay. Yeah, we will.”

-

“Are you sure about this?” Sanji asks, hands in his pockets, walking through the greenery of Sabaody. “We have a lot we need to plan for.”

“Yup!” Luffy chirps, throwing his hands behind his hatless head. He’d emerged from Chopper’s office a few hours before they arrived at Saboady without his hat. Nobody had commented. “The best thing to do would be to move forward anyway. Vance won’t find us if he can’t reach us!”

“Still,” Sanji says, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket. “According to Usopp, the guy’s crazy. He’s gonna keep gunning for him, so we need to be ready in case they reach us. And we’re gonna have to decide what we’re going to do about him in the long term.”

“Easy,” the Marimo says. “We kill him.”

He has the same look in his eyes that he’d had when Sanji had told the crew about the reason behind Usopp’s injuries: eyes flat and dangerous, promising pain.

Sanji, irritated that he’d had the same initial reaction, snaps at him. “Idiot,” He says. “We need a real plan, here. Something we can be ready for.”

Luffy shrugs. “Not really,” He says. “We just keep going. If they find us, we fight them, and we win. And if we need to make sure they don’t after us again, well…” He trails off. “I promised Usopp it wouldn’t happen again. So I’ll make sure it won’t.”

“We need to make sure he doesn’t wander off by himself for a while,” Sanji muses. “I don’t think he’ll be up to it, but just in case…”

“I’ll stay with him,” the Marimo offers, and Sanji snorts.

“What, so you both end up on the North Blue?” He says. “Have you even been to see him yet?”

The Marimo shoots him a dark look. It was true: he hadn’t actually seen Usopp since they brought him back. Chopper didn’t want too many people to go in and overwhelm him. Even now, when Luffy had declared that the three of them were going to scope out Sabaody, only Robin-Chan was allowed in the room. She had kindly come in with a book, clearly intending to read it to him. She was truly an angel. “Shut up,” the Marimo says, through gritted teeth.

“So where do you think we can go to coat the ship?” Luffy says, completely ignoring their conversation. “We’ll need someone to help us get to Fishman Island too. Do you think Camie and them would come with us?”

“Maybe,” Sanji says thoughtfully. “She would be more than welcome to stay with us! I think we’ll need to go sooner rather than later, though. This place is just…”

He trails off. There were many pirates here, pirates that are all clearly a level above the rest, darkly dangerous. And the people wander around with looks of resigned fear on their faces. Something is off, Sanji thinks, About this place.

“Luffy,” the Marimo says, calmly, dangerously.

Sanji turns. He had stopped a little further away, staring at a newspaper stand, a frown on his face. “You need to see this,” the swordsman says, gesturing to Luffy.

Their captain bounds towards the stall, Sanji close behind. What does that idiot want? Sanji grumbles to himself as he approaches. We need to keep movi-

He freezes.

There, at the front page of all the newspapers, is a familiar face, kneeling down and looking stone faced at the camera. Fire Fist Ace To Be Executed blares out from every headline.

Sanji sucks in a breath. “Luffy,” He says softly, then stops. What more can he say than that?

Luffy is rooted in place, staring at the newspaper. His eyes dart to the page, reading the entire article. “Oi,” the shopkeeper barks at them. “Are you going to buy anything?”

Luffy ignores him, and keeps reading.

The shopkeeper continues to grumble as Luffy looks back up at the two of them. The twinkle of adventure in his eyes is gone, replaced with a stony expression. “We need to help him,” He says.

“No arguments here,” The Marimo responds. His hands twitch towards his swords.

“None here either,” Sanji says grimly. “What’s the plan?”

Luffy whirls around, heading back towards the direction of the ship. “The newspaper said he’s in prison now,�� He says. “So we go there. We break in and get him out. And if he’s already out,” A shadow passes over his face. “Then we go to the execution platform and get him out that way.”

Sanji jogs after his captain. “How do you want us to get in?” He asks. “And who should go? I don’t know if Usopp will be able to-”

“Yeah,” Luffy says. “We’ll ask him what he can handle. We’ll need someone to protect the ship anyway. So maybe…maybe we can do that. But the article said we don’t have much time, and we need to make it to Impel Down before-”

“Excuse me,”

A voice interrupts them: old, cracking, curious. Sanji turns to see an old man with long, white hair and glasses. Despite his age, he carries himself with a casual power. “Did you say Impel Down?”

-

Usopp clutches onto the hat on his head for dear life.

There’s something about it, something that’s reaching at the darkness behind his bandages. Something like light.

He released the grip on his hat, softly tapping the rim, once, twice. Without warning, a choked sob emerges from his mouth.

“Usopp?” He hears Robin’s voice: calm, concerned. “Are you all right?”

He shudders. “Yeah,” He says, clutching at the hat again. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m…”

Do your job. He thinks. It’s time. Be brave. Be brave.

“Robin?”

“Yes, Usopp?” He hears her voice draw closer. “What do you need?”

“Can you help me go outside?” He says. “I think it’s time I figure out how to start navigating the ship.”

He hears the smile in Robin’s voice as she grips his arm. “Of course,” She says. “Let’s get Chopper to clear you.”

Usopp brings down one hand on top of hers. “Thank you,” He says, taking careful steps out into the world outside.

Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Fourteen (Part 3)

The sand is damp and smooth, and our footsteps are the first to break the even surface. It clings to our shoes. Seagulls caw and the marram grass rustles in the dunes in tune with the nylon swish of Jude’s windbreaker jacket. His face, blank, doesn’t turn to me, but I look up at him and feel unsettled, remorseful, regretful, excluded, and the sunlight glints off one of his little silver earrings and blinds me for a second, as though to force my gaze away. 

“How is Jen doing?” I say, and my voice is small and almost drowned out by the rumbling of the sea, but he hears me. 

“Yeah, she’s doing okay. She hurts a lot, you know, the parts of her that are broken. She’ll be okay, although they’re not so sure about her hand. This piece of shrapnel cut through her wrist, you know, severed some tendons, and there’s a chance she won’t ever have full movement back.”

“Oh,” I say, my own wrist twinging with a phantom wound. “I didn’t know that, that’s really awful.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s strong, though, she’ll recover from this and she’s going to be alright.” He kicks a chunk of driftwood out of his path and buries his chin into the collar of his coat. “It was hard to see her. This week has been the first time in months, and God, she just seems so fragile.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. She seemed that way when I saw her last, she’s really shrunk in on herself like she’s trying to take up the minimum amount of space in the world.”

“Exactly.”

“Having the wrong kind of person in your life at the wrong time can be so dangerous when you’re already fragile, someone can come in and break you so easily that it’s scary.” I shudder and try my best to force away my own dark memories as they begin to creep and coil around my insides. “But what happened to her? What is it with Jen?”

“That makes her feel that she doesn’t deserve anything more than a person like Pamela?”

“Yeah.”

He sighs. “Jen has just never had it very easy, I suppose. Things at home were really fraught, I remember that when I moved here. We were never allowed to hang out at Jen’s place, because she said her parents were weird. It turns out that her mother was really controlling and her dad had a temper. They’d punish her for really small things really disproportionately. I don’t know, Evie, it was just a difficult environment, she was always walking on eggshells around them, and she felt like she didn’t have any control over her own life. 

“When we were fourteen she met a crowd from another school who weren’t all that great. The exact type of friends her parents would keel over if they knew about, but that’s exactly why Jen wanted to spend time with them. I hung out with them too, but only because she did, and I didn’t really want to be all on my own. 

“All we ever did was drink and hang out in parks, honestly. It was kind of boring to me, but I was just there because of her, like, I don’t know, I suppose I felt like I needed to keep watch of her, to make sure that she was okay because it was becoming kind of clear that she wasn’t all that interested in making sure for herself.

“They all used to be obsessed with being high all of the time. Not that they had actual drugs, just solvents. Lighter fluid, deodorant, petrol, sometimes, you know, choking themselves until they hallucinate…”

He’s saying all of this like it’s normal, and that I should know about it already, but I don’t. I nod along anyway despite my horror. 

“But pretty quickly they got their hands on the real stuff. Someone’s brother knew a guy, I think. Something like that. We started with weed, which was fine, but then one day one of the guys showed up to the park with a little bag of cocaine.”

“How old were you then?”

“Fifteen.”

“And you tried it?”

“Yeah, and I didn’t like it that much, because it made me paranoid, same as weed, really. Paranoid and a bit nauseated, so I stopped doing it too often after that, but Jen was the complete opposite. She liked it a lot. There was something about that feeling of losing control of her body and being driven by something else that really did it for her, you know, she just liked losing herself in it. So really, from that point on that’s always how it was with her, always searching for an escape from her life, trying everything and anything those kids could find for her.”

“Fifteen.” I echo in disbelief. “You were both so young.”

“We were. Way too young. Two of those boys we used to know ended up in a psychiatric unit years later. I don’t hear about the others anymore, so I don’t know, but Jen has never quite gotten past it either.”

“Would you say she’s an addict?”

He makes a face like he can’t quite decide upon the answer. Perhaps my question is too simplistic. “I don’t really know what to call it.” He says eventually. “She goes through periods of heavy use, and then she comes back around again and doesn’t touch anything for months, it’s never consistent, it all depends so much on what’s happening with her, and whether her life is steady or not. Obviously, right now, it’s very much not. I think she’s had more and more difficulty in the last few years while I’ve been away.” A deep line forms between his brows. “I haven’t really been here to keep an eye on her.”

“Is that your responsibility?”

“Of course.” He says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But to me, it isn’t. It seems to me an incredibly heavy burden to bear.

“Her parents…?”

“They freaked out when they discovered she was a lesbian. They told her that she couldn’t identify that way as long as she lived under their roof, so she left. They don’t speak to her at all anymore, as far as they’re concerned they don’t have a daughter. I remember once we bumped into them in town and they completely blanked her and acted like they didn’t even see her. That was a really rough time. It didn’t work for my family to take her in, because Ivy was only six, so Michelle’s parents agreed. They’d been really close since they were children, so she lived with their family for three years.”

“Jesus.”

“Jen’s parents are horrible people. I don’t usually get so bothered about others to say that I hate them but… yeah, I hate her parents. They essentially destroyed her life. Well, they made a good stab. It feels like Pamela came along to finish the job.”

“I kind of get it, about Pamela,” I say, and he looks at me curiously. “You know, when you’re used to a certain pattern of treatment, returning to the familiar is the path of least resistance. Her parents treated her awfully, so she’ll default to someone like her, who can confirm all of those rotten things she already believes about herself.” It isn’t that cold, but I shiver anyway, and Jude bites down on his lip, frown deepening. “Yeah.” He says. “That makes sense. I just wish she could see what her friends can see.”

“You can tell her that she’s amazing all you like, she’s going to believe only the most negative things about herself.”

“Pamela locked her in a bathroom during an argument.” He tells me. “For four hours. Jen had to climb out of the window from the first floor. And that wasn’t enough to make her leave.”

I shrug. “You’d be amazed how bad it has to get.”

“Well I got Pamela’s number after that, and I called her up. This is what everyone keeps bringing up. I was just so mad. I just went off at her until she hung up on me, and then obviously she told Jen, which, I didn’t care about, I thought she’d be glad that I stood up for her, but I was wrong about that, she just cut me off and stopped speaking to me completely. That was like, a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was confused… I mean, I am confused.”

I sigh. “I wish I could explain how complicated it is, but it’s so hard to.”

“She must know that Pamela is abusive.”

“Sure, but sometimes it’s just easier to put up with it than try to leave or to change something. It’s a strange thing, but I suppose it kind of makes a bit of sense when you’re in it.”

“I thought I was helping.” 

“It’s hard to help, really. You just have to hope that she eventually helps herself.” 

“I hate it.” He says. “I hate how powerless I’ve felt, just away in Berlin this whole time, unable to do anything, or even talk to her, or even know what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry that I kept things from you.” I say, and he replies “I know you are. I understand why you did. I shouldn’t have been so angry.” 

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

We look at each other, and his nostrils flare just a little, a hardened, defensive look coming over his face because we both know that we aren’t talking about Jen anymore. 

“I think I’d like a coffee.” He announces after a tense pause. We’ve reached the main entrance to the beach now, the part of it that was always too crowded with towels and parasols to find a place to sit during the summer, now empty, just like all of the benches and the bar stools in the surf shack just a hundred metres from where we stand. Jude points at it with his thumb. “Do you want one? Or a tea, or, I don’t know, an ice cream cone?”

“I’ll go,” I say, in the dim hope that if perhaps I pay for his coffee he’ll warm up to me again and stop looking at me like I’ve shot him in the heart. “Black americano, no milk no sugar?”

“Yes.”

And usually, I’d make some joke about that, but I don’t even try it this time. I leave him to sit on a sandy bench and I head over to stand at the window to order. 

“Hey,” I say to the shopkeeper’s back. “Could I just get two coffees? An americano and a flat white.”

“We don’t have things like flat whites, this is a small family establishment.” He says, and then he turns around and I’m met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

“Oh. Liam.” 

“Evie?”

“Yeah.”

He comes over to lean onto the counter in front of me, and I take him in, the adult version of the boy I used to know. His hair is longer now and pushed back from his face with a patterned headband, and he looks less boyish, less skinny, but his full face of freckles is the very same, as well as the deep tan on his face, which I’m certain is there all year round. He doesn’t look unhappy to see me, in fact, he looks intrigued. “I didn’t expect to see you here, of all people, of a Saturday morning in March.”

“I know, I never thought I’d come here again, honestly.”

“We frightened you away that badly the first time, did we?” 

I smile. “No, I just never thought there’d be a reason.”

“And you found one.” He grabs a paper cup from a stack and gets to work on the americano. “Can I do you a cappuccino instead, by the way?”

“That’s fine.” I watch him pour the coffee grounds into the portafilter and tamp it down. “I’m really just passing through, you know, after the storm, some of the houses down here have gotten damaged.”

“Yeah, that’s right. One over on the end of the peninsula has the roof gone off it.” 

“Oh, that’s not great.”

“Not great indeed.” He puts the first coffee down in front of me. “What are you up to these days anyway?”

“I’m in the middle of college. I’m studying illustration in NCAD, and at the moment I’m taking a year to do an internship in a print studio in Stoneybatter.”

“Ah art school! You were always creative. Or so they tell me. I never did see your drawings in the end.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Well, I suppose you didn’t. How about you? Are you in college too?”

“Well if I was I suppose I wouldn’t be here doing this, now, would I?” He smiles over his shoulder at me after he pours milk into a silver jug. “I went to Galway to study for a year, and I didn’t like it, so I dropped out, came home, and I’ve been working here with my dad ever since. It’s grand, I don’t mind it. Nice to be on the beach and surfing and all that, you know what I mean?” 

I nod. “Yeah for sure.” 

Dumping bubbly, frothy milk into my cup, he wonders “What house were you checking out anyway? Is it Kelly’s mobile or something?”

“No, it’s the Turner’s beach house.” 

When he places the cup in front of me, he peers over my shoulder and spots Jude sitting with his back to us, staring out over the sea, and Liam’s easy smile falters. “Oh right. You ended up going out with him in the end.”

“Oh. Well, no. It’s not like that.”

“Is it not?”

“No, we’ve just been friends for the last few years, there’s not been anything else going on really.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah.”

I clear my throat awkwardly. “Well, um, like, why is that, exactly?”

“Well like I didn’t ever think anything would actually happen there between ye. I’d have been surprised to hear that it had, is all.”

I stiffen. “Is that so?”

“Just from knowing him back in the day, I didn’t think he’d, you know, have gone for you, or whatever. Actually, I thought he’d have fancied your friend Claire instead.”

“Why, because she’s pretty?”

“Well she was very pretty, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is.”

He sees the look on my face, laughs to himself and saunters back to the coffee machine to clean out the grounds. I feel my cheeks flush. “What’s so funny?”

“No, no, nothing.” 

“Explains why you’re chuckling away to yourself.”

He sighs. “I’m not, it’s nothing, Evie.”

“No, what?” I insist. 

“I’m not trying to start something here, I just could have predicted this, is all.”

“Predicted…?”

“That he’d still be, like, stringing you along after him after all this time. That’s what’s going on, isn’t it? It’s always what happens, it’s a classic situation, that’s all I was thinking.”

My pulse quickens. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, come on. It’s so obvious. Girls like you always go for guys like him, guys who like the attention so much, but look at ye now, it just goes to show that I was correct way back then when I thought it. He’s never going to give you what you want, he never was. I’m actually on your side, I just think I could have told you this four years ago and maybe saved you the hassle.”

I get it. He thinks that I’m pathetic. “I think you have some nerve saying that. We don’t fit into whatever categories you have in your head. ‘Girls like me, guys like him’. That doesn’t mean anything.” 

He turns around and shrugs, totally nonplussed. “If I’m wrong then what are you doing traipsing down to Wexford with him on an errand? Buying him coffees? It’s fine, Evie, I’m not trying to argue with you, I’m just stating a fact. Some things never change, is all I’m trying to get at. Nice to see that you’re still the same girl as ever.”

“What’s the coffee cost, please?”

“Five fifty.”

“Rip off.” I toss coins onto the counter, grab the cups and stalk away from him. 

When I slam the americano onto the bench next to Jude some of the liquid sloshes out onto the wood, and he awkwardly mops it up with the thin napkin I got from the shack. He asks me if I’m alright, and I fib and tell him I am. 

“Fair enough.” He says because he’s too upset with me to care that much. We walk all the way back to the beach house in silence, wet sand, whispering waves, and cool wind, stuck together, wishing we were miles apart again.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[zoethebitch]

finished the sopranos. really glad I rewatched this I definitely did not understand it 15 years ago. I mean I understood I was not supposed to sympathize with Tony even tho I wanted to I got that part of it but there's a lot that went over my head.

it is a lot more supernatural than I remembered and there are actually ghosts and angels and prophecies hidden in dreams and messages in the wind throughout. i had forgetten about that. maybe a lot of people have it feels like this series and David Chase are a lot more well known for realism. but the real and the surreal play together beautifully through the whole thing. it's never clear if these are meant to be real entities or if they're imaginary but there's a lot in this show that's ambiguous.

none of the characters really grow or change at all I think the sopranos is unique in that. there's one exception, Meadows friend Hunter (played by David Chase's daughter) who shows up frequently in early seasons but then we don't see her for years until the finale. it's clear why bc when we last saw her she was Meadows fuck up friend with bulimia who was in and out of the hospital, always abusing various substances, constantly partying and getting into trouble. in the finale she's got her shit together and is in her second year of med school. we haven't seen her bc she changed and moved on while everyone else in the show has remained stagnant.

you hope they will change. you hope Carmella will actually leave Tony for real you hope Christopher will overcome his addiction and make a real commitment to something in his life you hope Tony will actually seek self improvement thru his therapy and change his life so he doesn't have to subconsciously harbor these deep feelings of shame and guilt and regret around his actions that are causing his depression and anxiety. but by the end it's revealed that he's been using therapy to become a better criminal and to help bury these things further down and steer himself further away from developing empathy toward others this entire time. Carmella starts out trying to only live on Tony's legitimate income and reject his blood money and by the end she's stealing bundles of cash from his stash and accepting a 600k dowry from him in exchange for getting back together with him instead of divorcing him.

the controversial cut to black ending is so much fun in the context of the rest of that final season I don't think it's really about whether Tony lives or dies. like he probably dies but I think that was Chase's way of putting him in Schrodinger's box and keeping him simultaneously alive and dead. both possibilities are true as long as we can't observe it. if we go back to the beginning of season 6 when Tony is in the hospital recovering from his gunshot wound this actually gets brought up. one of the patients he's with was a physicist who talks to Tony about Schrodinger and Heisenberg. they discuss this at length while watching a boxing match, about how reality is affected by our perception of it. just like two episodes before the finale Tony and his therapist are also discussing alternate universes which is also a concept deeply tied to probability waves and uncertainty principle. a cat also shows up in the finale that Tony decides to keep as a bodega cat for the butcher shop and I don't think that's a coincidence.

anyways. really great show but god it got very very dark toward the end and I need some lighter material before I dig in to The Many Saints of Newark so I'm gonna watch Nicky Deuce.

[lunetual]

♡ HAPPY CHANGKYUN DAY ♡ happy happy birthday to monsta x’s forever maknae, who despite turning 27 years old and fully being an adult, is still undoubtedly regarded by his hyungs as not-quite-grown-up yet. wishing him a lovely day and an even lovelier year as he so very much deserves!!

quick cc note: hehe here we goooo! buckle in we’re in for a long ride etc. you’re all used to this by now! changkyun is so very dear to me in such a specific way where i can’t think about him for too long or i’m at risk of crying. you know? he occupies such a particular place within the group and in my heart.

i definitely don’t claim to know what’s going on behind the scenes or pretend to exactly understand anyone’s state of mind except my own... but doesn’t changkyun seem lighter these days? i think in general changkyun loves the stage and loves music, and you can always tell that. he’s always been happy when he’s out there under the stage lights all mic’d up. but this past promotional period he has seemed so relaxed and happy and comfortable like he has been GLOWING!! that impossibly charming silliness that sometimes shows itself has been spilling out of him!!! and it makes me so so happy because he deserves that! like doesn’t it do your heart good to see him thriving!!

i have such a soft spot for him for a myriad of reasons but one of them is that it’s because i know that so much of this job kind of goes. against his instincts?? alkf;alsk. changkyun is by nature, so reserved a lot of the time and a lot of an idol’s job requires you to have your on switch flipped at all times. he himself has talked about it, how it doesn’t seem like a job suited for him and yet... it IS his job and it DOES suit him. and in a lot of ways, i think how introverted he is helps at his job, in that he is able to expend his energy when needed and ride that high, and then knows how to regroup and recover within himself. he’s talked about the come down from the rush of being on stage and how it’s a peculiar and acute loneliness, and how actually, he doesn’t mind it. that it’s something that you need to feel.

changkyun is just so thoughtful and introspective. i think he’d be such a good conversation partner. from now on when people ask that icebreaker question that’s like. which three people dead or alive would you want to have dinner with... i’m naming changkyun as one of the answers. i really admire the way that he can sit with his emotions and acknowledge them, and at the same time, the way that he’s like. fake it til you make it!!! like. so true king. me too. sometimes you just have to keep telling yourself that you’re fine and you just keep saying it and keep saying it until it’s true.

he’s a bundle of contradictions. he gives off this cool and fierce image while being so, so sweet to the bone, the group’s resident romantic. he quietly watches his groups antics from the side except for when his goofy sense of humor bursts out of him. he cares fiercely, so fiercely about what his people think of him — and nothing at all for his naysayers’ words. he’s incredibly introverted but loves standing in front of the crowd under the spotlight. :):

i think all the time about how changkyun really maintains a strong sense of self in an industry where it can be really hard, really brutal to do so. here are the things that stand out to me, especially: he is considerate of others, and endlessly patient with those he cares about. (thinking of: him sleeping in his studio for kihyun’s solo debut to make sure he didn’t disturb the sparse amount of sleep kihyun was getting. the way he always indulges hyungwon when hyungwon asks him to check his eyes.) he was raised with an appreciation for music and art and it shows so clearly in his identity as an artist. and along with that, growing up in a few different countries when he was younger gave him maybe a more international mindset than he would have had otherwise. he is honest in his music. he knows his worth and will make the decision that’s best for him, even when those decisions may not come easily.

i’m so excited for the future for him. like changkyun, i also believe that good times and bad times must both exist, and that one will naturally follow the other. but i hope that for him the good times always last longer than the bad ones, and that inner light that’s been shining from him keeps on dazzling us all.

im changkyun!!! i admire who you choose to be every day!! i’m really proud of you and the way you’ve had your cake and eaten it too, leaving the company and staying committed to the group and the members you love so much. i can’t wait for your solo ventures to come, i can’t wait for the group activities to come, i just can’t wait to see what comes next. this year i hope you stay happy, stay smiling. i hope you keep on betting on yourself, because you will never, never lose when you do. with all the love and support, always. rooting for you, cheering for you. with you every step of the way.

[unhinged-with-no-gender]

I'mma ask the Rasmodious one later cause I want revenge!(ʘ言ʘ╬) Kk so I want part 2 about Seb cheating on farmer(^▽^), k so I want Seb to fell out of love on the lady(hehehe)and realized that he love farmer and was happy about his life with farmer, the farmer can be with another bachelor(≧▽≦) or you can make them together again if you want oh! Can you write the reaction of pelican town about the cheating? And maybeee father figure Rasmodious?(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Cause it will be interesting (I still simp for anime portrait tho just want the reaction) k so bye!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

B) I gotchu (ps I did kinda take some creative liberties, I know it'd be better to keep it vague but I had a bit of an idea yk?) (The theory that Abigail is secretly Rasmodious's daughter is practically canon in my head btw so it is canon in my writing unless otherwise requested)

Warning: light profanity, sex mentioned (not explained)

Towns reaction to initial cheating (Highlights)

Sam was disappointed in his friend. He thought you were cool! And you were so good to him. He couldn't have picked a better s/o for his friend. He stops talking to Seb as much, wouldn't talk to him at all if it weren't for the band. Doesn't consider him a friend anymore.

Abigail is also disappointed, but she gets it. She's lighter on Seb than Sam is.

He refuses to tell his family, so they don't even know, but they're so curious, especially Robin.

Rasmodious is PISSED. He noticed your behavior was off when you were bringing him some mushrooms he had requested, and had pulled the story out of you. He mumbled something about needing to protect those young girls in town from someone like him before sending you off. You noticed from here on he requested more random things from you, and when you'd deliver them he'd ask you how you are and would give you advice.

It was rough getting back into how things were before. You didn't enjoy farm life as much without Sebastian there. It just wasn't the same around town without him.

You had isolated yourself after he left. Sebastian wasn't close with many people in town, but Robin was. She was the local carpenter, and he was her son. Instead of hanging around town, you stayed at the farm, fearing judgement from the townsfolk.

Sebastian was living both at home and with his new partner. He could never get over the guilt of what he did to you, but damn could this new girl make him feel things he never thought he could, at least, she could in bed. Day to day life was different with her. She never woke him up with breakfast, coffee, or even a good morning.

As time went on, he found himself missing those moments more than he enjoyed great sex. He realized that's all she could do for him. He realized he had fucked up. She would never give him the little moments to cherish.

While things took a turn for the worse for Sebastian after the breakup, you had finally started to recover. It wasn't long after the breakup that you and Sam started to get closer. He reminded you of Sebastian in some ways, but he was so different in so many others.

You two got close, and you had the idea that he wanted to take it further than just friends, but you couldn't see yourself with someone so soon, and he seemed to respect that even without you needing to say it.

Sebastian eventually stopped spending so much time in the city. He broke things off with his new partner, learning from his previous mistakes, and started dwelling in the basement at Robins even more so than he used to.

The next major catastrophe happened when the band went to perform in front of Gus's. You had been avoiding their little gigs, not wanting to see Sebastian, but Sam had begged you to come. He performed little mini gigs at the farm for you by himself, but he couldn't be a one-man-band, they were still a band no matter the tension between members.

So you watched them perform. It was nice, Sebastian wouldn't even make eye contact with you but you didn't know if you could hold it if he did. No, the thing that made this a disaster was Robin. She has to know why you two broke up, no one would tell her anything!

The performance reaches it's end, and the band members start packing up their equipment to go. Despite this, Robin still stands in front of you, trying to decipher everything by any means possible.

She doesn't take the news well. She's so upset, and that's when Sebastian and Sam appear. Robin turns to scold her son for his actions, you don't do that to a person! He still can't make eye contact with you, but he can with Sam, especially after Sam pipes up, agreeing with Robin that his actions were nasty.

The two boys bicker until Abigail shows up to yell at them both. You notice the wizard also seems to be watching, though he's a bit further away. He had also helped you through your funk when Sebastian cheated, though in a different way from Sam. He offered you advice, and you took it. It sometimes felt like your grandfather was still around when the wizard was there, giving you the fatherly advice you need.

Abigail manages to shut them both up, and you can finally talk it out. You all agree to be civil from here on out, and Sebastian admits to realizing his mistakes, and that he missed you. Unsure if you can forgive him, you accept his apology.

Sam still seems peeved that you'd even talk to him, and tries to claim he's been here for you this whole time and Abigail shuts him up real fast.

So, farmer, it's up to you. Who would you choose?