#in the span of a minute after talking to a teenager

[emsylcatac]

Imagine all that could have been avoided if Gabriel had gone to fucking therapy

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER TWO - an interrogation

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

"You've got the wrong person."

"I can assure you we don't."

"Then what the fuck did I do?"

Price sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, staring out the one-sided mirror that separates him from the interrogation taking place.  The room is dark save for the mirror, the laptop in front of him, and the red-yellow embers of his third cigar in the span of an hour.  He fidgets uselessly with it, rolling the paper between the fingers in his right hand while the other clutches a pair of dog tags.  The metal feels twice as cold in his palm as he listens to the two people in the room in front of him.

Laswell looks tired—typically perfect hair beginning to fall from her bun and the bags under her eyes deeper than usual.  He doesn’t doubt he looks the same, if not worse.  Despite the majority of the day dead and gone, the only thing they have to show for the amount of time spent in this room is a quickly filling tray of cigarette ashes and a messy desk of conflicting files, open laptops, and empty mugs of both tea and coffee.

"Nothing.  We just have some questions regarding your birth family."

You chuckle bitterly, your voice strained from the day's events even through the intercom.  "You had me kidnapped and nearly killed for a couple of questions?"  

Laswell's mouth opens and then snaps shut again. 

Price flips the dog tags through his fingers like the world’s most unlucky coin.

"This isn't an interrogation,"  she eventually responds.  "We’re trying to help you.”

“Then why am I in an interrogation room?”

He thinks its hard to find anything surprising, nowadays.  Price thought he saw pretty much everything there was to see already.  He’s traveled the world, faced every obstacle with bared teeth and clenched fists.  He’s seen death in all its forms, he’s seen someone come back from death—and yet, this was a new problem.  One he hadn’t encountered before.  A mission he, for once, didn’t know how to approach. 

He sighs, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees as he watches Laswell shuffle through papers.  This is usually what the chief specialized in—getting intel—but it appears even she's left flustered and clueless with how to handle the iron will of a shell-shocked teenager.

You’re sitting in a similar position as Price himself as you sit across from Laswell; a too-big S.A.S. sweater on your shoulders paired with sweatpants of a similar fit, your previous clothes ruined with blood.  Eyes downcast, hands clasped and shaking; Price can’t imagine the things running through your head.  He felt even worse that they didn’t have spare shoes, leaving you in your untied sneakers stained red-brown with the blood from earlier that day.  

You’re lost in thought.  You try to focus on what Laswell says, but her questions seem to go in one ear and then back out the other if you don't snap with a sarcastic comeback.  Laswell swallows heavily, much more used to this routine involving adults with war crime lists as long as the very building is tall.  She’s being gentle—well, as gentle as she can manage given your sharp tongue—but you haven’t given them any answers since you showed up.

You're scared.  You want answers.  Anyone in your situation would be the same.

So, after a few more minutes of talking and getting nowhere, Laswell stands.  She spares you one last, sympathetic look before crossing the room to the door—where she leaves the room in favor of the small office Price resides in.  A long breath leaves her as she stops at the table, lifting her arms and then letting them fall back to her sides in defeat.

“Nothing,”  she breathes.

Price nods.  He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales the smoke in a heavy sigh.

“Figures,”  he says, leaning over to snuff the embers out in the dish.  “Simon scared ‘em shitless.”

Laswell scoffs.  Shaking her head, she drops the file on the desk with a slap before sitting down herself—rubbing her tired face.  Her gaze falls to you sitting alone in the room, her brow furrowed tight.  In all his years of working with her, Price doubts he’s seen someone get under her skin like this in a long time.  

“We can’t wait for answers—not with the news spreading like this.”

He hums.  “You’re right.  We can’t.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”  She asks, genuinely.  “Because this isn’t working.  The kid's not talking until we tell them what's going on."

Price is silent for a moment.  None of the team had expected anyone else to catch wind of your location so quickly—nor had they expected such an organization like the Shadow Company to get involved.  What was supposed to be a silent search-and-rescue mission turned into something more of an ambush.  Something Price knows Graves will eventually seek repercussions for.

He feels his stomach twist from the thought, but he shakes it from his head.  Right now, proving to you that you weren’t in any danger was his priority.  The sooner you felt safe, the sooner you would answer questions—the sooner Price could formulate some semblance of a plan going forwards.

He pushes himself to his feet.  “Then we'll just have to give 'em what they want."

Laswell sighs, “John—”

“We owe the kid answers, Kate,”  He insists.  "We have for a long time.  Far too long."

“And if Graves or someone worse gets to them?  What happens then…when they give up intel?”  Laswell argues.   “We’ll just have to keep them until they’re ready to give up answers.  It’s the only way to make sure we don’t get compromised if shit hits the fan again.”

Price’s brow furrows.  He looks back out into the interrogation room for a moment, at how you stare down at the table wiping your bruised face on your sleeves.  Laswell is right, of course—she usually is.  If you gave up sensitive information to save your own skin after everything you’ve been through, nobody would blame you.  It could ruin everything, and it would be his fault, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take.  

He turns to Laswell again, his voice low as he steps closer. Palms flat on the desk, he leans down to her level.  “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

Laswell just stares at him for a second, her gaze hard in calm resolve.  She seems to consider his preposition, carefully weighing the pros and cons as she searches Price’s gaze for any hint of self-doubt.  As usual, she finds none.

She sighs again, shakes her head, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table.

"Fifteen minutes, Captain."  She says, resolute, as she lights a cigarette between her teeth.  "That's all you get."

Fifteen minutes.  He’s saved lives with less, but yet he still finds himself taking a nervous breath as he grasps the doorknob anyway.  Up until this point he hasn't officially met you.  In a perfect world, he probably never would have needed to.

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens the door.

Immediately, your eyes dart up to meet his.  Your expression is a tangled mess of things.  Fear, maybe.  Anger, definitely.  There’s sadness and anxiety in there, too, as Price meets your gaze for a moment before padding inside.  He makes a point to leave the door open behind him as he walks forwards, pulls the chair out, and sits down with his hands on the table.  Your legs are pulled up to your chest now; arms hugging your knees as you stare up at him—defensive.

Like you're a cornered animal ready to bite.  

You are, but that's besides the point.

He regards you for a moment, attempting to look past how you have your father’s eyes—bright and focussed and unrelenting underneath the deep, puffy bruise on your left eyelid.  The wound looks old, at least by a few hours, so he knows it wasn’t caused by any of his men.  Even the Shadows wouldn’t swoop so low as to hurt you without reason.

"Nice eye,"  is all he says.

Immediately, you look away, suddenly self-conscious as you wipe at the aching, bruised flesh.  It hurts, that’s for sure, but you do a good job at hiding it.

"The other guy looked worse,"  you lie.

"A soldier?"

"No…"  you clear your throat and shift, your shoulders easing just a little from exhaustion.  "No.  Some kid.  Long story.”

"Ah,"  he chuckles a little, as if you aren't sitting across from him with your hands still stained in some dead guy's blood.  "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

"Who are you?"

Hm.  The dreaded question.  For a second, Price debates how much he should tell you—and he knows Laswell is holding her breath hoping he'll hold his tongue, but you deserve answers.  It's the least he could do.

The dog tags feel like they were burning a hole in his pocket.

"Captain John Price.  British Special Air Service."  He answers through a sigh as he sits back in his chair.  "But you can just call me Price."

That furrow in your brow loosens just a little.  Slowly, you remove your arms from around yourself, letting your shoes hit the linoleum flooring.  Maybe you recognized his name somehow, or maybe you’re just relieved to be talked to like a human and not a cornered animal—but you’re more relaxed than you have been that whole day.

"And the woman?"  You press.

"A friend,"  Price answers honestly.  "She helped us find you.  You can trust her, too."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

Price hesitates at that, glancing towards the one-sided mirror where he can feel Laswell watching.  Then, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out the dogtags.  He tosses them over and they slide across the metal table before landing in your hands.  You turn the metal chips over in your palm, tracing the enamel with shaky hands.  When you look back up at Price, it's in disbelief.

They're your father's.

"To make a very long story short: over a year ago he had a mission,"  Price begins.  "Your old man was tasked with disarming a missile.  He succeeded, changed the code...and died before he could deliver it.  As of a month ago, it's been missing.”

It's a grossly summarized version of what happened over the course of the past year and a half, but Price figures he’ll spare you the details.  Details like how your father was tortured for months before he was finally killed while escaping.  Details like while he was stuck in enemy territory—you were all he would write about.  Your interests.  Your face.  Your words.

You're silent for a moment, squeezing the cold metal in your palms.  When you speak, it's quiet.

"That's a lie," you argue.  "Dad died when I was five. In Mexico."

Price nods.

“Maybe,” he says quietly.  “But, like his kid—he wouldn’t go down easy.”

You let out a breath, sitting back against the chair as you digest the information handed to you.  He watches dots string together in your mind as you mull over your whole life up until that very moment.  He knows what you’re thinking of already; not because he ever met the man personally, but because with the past few months he spent reading and rereading every letter, email, and assignment report—he feels like he did.  He knows you’re rethinking every letter your father sent you right up until his supposed “death" and every call promising his return soon.

He knows it’s a lot to take in, and that aching guilt in his chest rears its ugly head.  He wished he could do more—apologize on behalf of your father, reassure you things would be fine, take you back to your home…but, alas, all of those things were impossible.  So, instead, he’d answer whatever question you asked.

Because that was all he could do.

Almost a full minute passes before you speak again, quietly.  "And why, exactly, am I so important?"

"Because your father kept a journal,”  he answers promptly.  “In that journal, he said you knew the code.”

You laugh bitterly.  “It’s not like he was around to tell me—I don’t know shit.”

“I figured,”  he sighs, nodding.  “So, until we figure things out…you’re sticking with me and my men."

You bristle again, shoulders tensing.  "I never agreed to that."

"I never gave you the choice,"  John hardens his tone, not leaving any room for argument.  "It's what your father would've wanted.  Those were his last orders."

At that, you fall quiet; your face scrunched with frustrated anger and unshed tears as you look away to steel yourself.  John sighs and softens again.

"You’ll have a temporary room for the next few days.  Then, Friday; you, me, and my team are moving to a different base to plan and gather intel.  Everyone here answers to me, and if any of ‘em give you trouble—I’m never far away.”

He leans in close.

"I'm sorry, kid.  Really," he says, "but you can't go home."

Finally, you nod in understanding, your gaze falling to the table.  Lost in thought again, another long moment passes.  He watches as you look down at the dog tags before, hesitantly, lifting them up and over your neck.  They fall to rest at your chest as you clasp them before looking up at Price.  You won’t ask the question—won’t admit what you’re thinking—but he meets your gaze with calm resolve as he speaks again.

"You'll be safe here," he says. “Alright?”

You purse your lips, thinking.  John almost holds his breath, waiting for your response.  Conflicting emotions swim in your eyes as you squeeze the metal on your neck. 

He pretends not to notice the tears pricking your eyes as you swallow heavily and nod.

“Yeah…yes,”  you choke out.  “Not like I have anywhere to go, anyway."

After that, things go smoother.  There were supposed to be more tests—more questioning, interviewing, and other supposedly mandatory things that would get everyone nowhere.  Instead, Price decides to bypass all of it with Laswell’s permission.  The walk to your room is silent, and he assures you, again, that nothing will happen to you here.  He apologizes profusely, but he’s not sure you truly hear any of it—simply nodding and thanking him before the door is shut, and the halls are quiet.

Only then does he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, slipping his hat off to run his hand back through his hair.  There’s paperwork he has to do, a briefing to attend to, and he still has yet to touch base with Soap and Ghost about what exactly happened earlier that day.  Despite it all, though—he feels somehow lighter.  Months of tracking down your father’s only family coming to a close now that you were found and safe.  Or, maybe, it was just because the dog tags were weighing him down.

Nevertheless, he barely spares himself a moment to recollect before his hat is placed back on his head, his expression is hardened again, and he finds himself walking back down the hallway—already itching for another cigar.

It was going to be a long fucking week.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.3 | Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Chapter Three. The early stages of pregnancy are really taking a toll on you. Jake’s got questions.

Warnings: talks of abortion / anti-abortion ideology. We’re pro-choice over here. This is an accidental pregnancy fic. Lying. Friends to lovers. WC: 3.6k.

…

Snickering had given the two of you away instantly. From the moment that Matthew Seresin had pushed open the door to the room, he had known that something was amiss. The house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday evening — those were the nights you stayed for dinner while your mother worked late, and you had spent hours with Matthew’s youngest brother causing nothing but trouble.

“If you’re in my room, I’m going to lock you out with the cows, you little freaks.” The then seventeen-year old had warned, his eyes narrowed warily as he tiptoed across the hardwood of his bedroom floor, aged floorboards creaking under his weight.

With that, a clammy little hand pressed itself firmly over your mouth. When you turned to look, Jake had been staring right at you, his cheeks dimpled with the sheer joy from his grin. A few more heavy steps and Matthew had dropped his old duffel packed full of wrestling gear to the floor.

Your nose had wrinkled at the smell. Disgusting, sweaty teenage boy athletic gear is a scent that doesn’t fade from memory.

“Last chance, you little germs.” Matthew had warned, craning his neck to check out his closet, then to squint at the open door to the bathroom he had Noah had shared.

From under his bed, you knew you were safe for at least a couple more minutes. As the oldest boy, and the messiest at the time, Matty’s room had plenty of hiding spots back then. Especially for two ten year olds who knew this old house inside and out. But, your window of opportunity was closing — there’s a fragile line between being able to scare the life out of Matthew Seresin, and just evoking his wrath. Back then, in all of his teenage hormonalism, the latter was much easier.

“Three,” Jake had mouthed to you, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes and his nose just a fraction too big for his face back then. “Two…”

The two of you had leapt out from opposite sides of Matthew’s double bed, scaring him so bad that he had lost balance in his gym socks, slipped on the wood and landed flat on his ass. He had been so angry that day — the two of you had slept out in Jake’s treehouse because you were so afraid of what Matty would do if he had gotten his hands on you.

Jake has always been a wriggly sleeper. He always tosses and turns, balls his hands into fists and stretches his arms out as wide as they’ll span. He has thought about joining you in your afternoon nap a couple of times now, as you stretch out along the plush bench opposite the kitchenette, but he won’t. All of his wriggling keeps you up, and he hasn’t ever seen you this tired. Even after the two of you had snuck off to Panama City Beach and spent thirty-six hours straight awake the summer after high school.

The tour has been electric so far, and Jake’s still waiting for the high of it all to wear off. His body feels like it’s vibrating as he plucks absently at the guitar strings, turning his head away from you and looking back out towards the open stretch of road. The first three dates have been everything Jake could ever have imagined. He has signed t-shirts, records, hats and skin and listened to crowds call back his lyrics for three nights consecutively. Currently, is a travel day. Seven hours from New Mexico and into Colorado. He’ll have tonight off and tomorrow, he’ll play his fourth gig in Boulder, CO. His eldest brother is going to be able to see him play.

Matt transports things outside of his work at the ranch. Just off season work to make sure his family can have the nice things he wants them to have. Jake can’t wait to see him.

The road ahead is stretching, flat and open. A couple of minutes back, the bus passed a sign informing them that the closest gas station was four miles away. Jake knows this because his driver, Pete, had announced it and interrupted Jake’s train of thought right in the middle of what could have been the best hook of Jake’s career.

With these roads out here, it’s a fifty-fifty gamble between potholes and cracks in the asphalt and smooth sailing. This road is perfectly smooth. It barely even feels like they’re moving. And yet, something wakes you up. You sit up quickly, trying to swallow through the thick churning feeling in your stomach. Your gaze flickers to the whirring air conditioning at the front of the bus as sweat slickens your forehead.

“Stop the bus!”

Pete turns in his seat, wide-eyed and ready to argue about making it before sunset, until he sees the sudden grey sheen to your skin. He doesn’t bother arguing, but his braking isn’t fast enough either.

“Pete, stop the fucking bus!”

Natasha, curled up on the bench beside you, is startled awake by the commotion. Jake’s face has already twisted into a concerned frown, his fingers stilling against the guitar strings as the bus jolts to a stop. As you leap upwards from the seat, there’s a familiar smell of dust that reminds you of that afternoon huddled under Matthew’s bed. The wild look of excitement in your best friend’s eyes are the furthest thing from your mind as you stumble forwards, two left feet trampling over each other and not enough floor space to accommodate the lack of coordination.

The door to the bus, much like the rest of it, is stiff, old and creaky. Your legs wobble down the two steps and your knees buckle, searching for the afternoon-warmed asphalt until your palms are on it too, your stomach twisting into a painful knot.

With how unceremoniously you threw yourself out of the door, Jake has to struggle to step around you without dropping himself boot-first into your breakfast. He winces, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Same old squeamish Jake. With one hand, he gets to work scooping your hair away from your neck and face and with the other, he puts a halt to the crew trying to exit the bus after you.

“Pete — you think there’s an emergency room anywhere near here?” He calls out, craning his neck to squint around the miles of fields and at the mountains in the distance.

First, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, and then you sit back on your knees and swat Jake’s hand out of your hair. “I don’t need to go to an emergency room. I just ate something — and all the driving, and… bleh. I’m fine.”

“Yeah and the other day you were just too warm. You’ve been feeling weird for a couple of days, we’re getting you checked out.” With his hand now out of your hair, Jake has it free to rest against your forehead, checking impatiently for some kind of temperature he isn’t going to find. Sitting on your knees, squinting at him through the afternoon sun, finding nothing but that stubborn kind of worry that is only fuelled by love, it makes you feel sick all over again.

As much as you used to bicker and fight, and sometimes you still do, Jake’s light has always matched yours in a way that has been noticeable by everyone for your entire life. You’ve always been a duo, the perfect pair. It doesn’t seem quite right that now you know there’s a part of him that’s fused with you — that your body is reacting like this.

Truthfully, you can’t pretend that carrying Jake’s baby had ever occurred to you. The ‘B’ word, really truthfully, still makes you uncomfortable three days after finding out. But, if you had ever thought about carrying Jake’s baby, you would have assumed that it would just be… easier… than this.

“Sunny, hey, look at me.” Jake frowns down at you, all that worry materialising right in the pools of his green eyes as he squats down. Squeamish Jake who couldn’t even clean the mess up after he got sick last New Years’ Eve, squatting above a puddle of hot puke, just to get a better look at your face. “We’ve got the day off — let’s just see a doctor, get you fixed up. Alright?”

“Map says there’s an urgent care down the street from the motel.” Bob calls from inside the bus, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s all faded denim and rolled up sleeves, a real hometown-comfort looking kind of guy. Not a rockstar by any means, but he and those drums seem to have a special arrangement. You’ve never been more grateful for him than you are right now; he just bought you another four hours.

“I can hang on ‘til then. I’ll take it easy,” You promise Jake, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears and wobbling to your feet. He presents both hands and breathes a sigh of relief as you brace yourself on his forearms. “It’s just a couple of hours — and I don’t see any hospitals around here anyway. Do you?”

Jake lets it go.

He boards the bus once again and sits with his elbows on his knees and watches you sleep for the next four hours. The way you’re moving, you’re going to drive that guy sick with worry — and Jake Seresin does not take kindly to being sick.

It’s got to be a sign, you think to yourself as you try to appear asleep. Your body rattles with the bus and the lack of the seatbelt, soft cushion under your back as you take up just about the only ‘tour bus-like’ commodity thag this old girl has to offer. Jake’s baby — fetus — clump of cells — whatever the fuck is chilling in there and ruining your day; you and that thing just aren’t compatible. It’s as simple as that.

It’s bringing you to your knees three days in. You haven’t slept, anything you eat won’t stay down, and your nerves are shot with the idea that you created a lifeform in the filthy back room of the Darkstar.

It’s not like you’re a teenager. You’re a grown up who is old enough to be moved out, old enough to be married. Hell, old enough to be a parent. By the standards of Driftwood, Texas, it’s about time you hitched a ride on the baby making bandwagon. Though, even in this more progressive times, the folks back home wouldn’t be too happy to hear that you just let any old guy knock you up.

That idea plays on your mind a lot at night now. The thought of walking down Main Street, all big and round in a pretty little dress, radiant and ready to be a mother. No husband waiting for you at home, no men in line to get down on one knee either. This clump of cells, or whatever, without a father. Poor thing. Well — that would make things even worse. It wouldn’t take long for people to figure out that your little mistake was a Seresin.

You hope that when they figured it out, they would understand. They would take one look at the photographs of you with Jake — all of those summers, and winters, and nights that weren’t captured by a lens, and know that you’re not just easy. Though — you are, you suppose. Jake hadn’t ever had to even ask. You’d agreed to it wordlessly before, or asked him expressly yourself. But that’s Jake. You hope they all know that’s what makes it different.

But you could save yourself all that explaining, all that hoping. With a small gulp, you know how easy it would be. You’re not that far along. All this sickness, and weakness and exhaustion would be gone in no time. You could just say you had a bug. Jake wouldn’t ever know, and his career would become everything he has ever wanted. You would get to remain part of it.

Maybe some day, you could do it the right way. Intentionally. That would feel better. You’d be prepared, the baby would be loved. This… baby — you’re not sure you could ever love something that threatens to rip away everything you and Jake have worked so hard for. Something insignificant that you hadn’t ever wanted, much less intended.

“How you feeling?” Natasha asks, crouched at your side with a glass of water and two ibuprofen in hand. Breaking into the hangover stash to ease your symptoms now. Not a good sign. You blink through the light, glancing over her head at Jake watching you through the rear view mirror, pretending to pluck at his guitar.

“I need someone to distract Jake when we get to the motel. You’ll take me to urgent care, right?” You ask her, dropping the two pills into your mouth and downing them with a strained gulp of water. Her soft brows draw together just slightly as she squeezes at your knee.

“Of course.”

Tbe plan, of course, was never to go to urgent care. While Jake’s stuck on the phone with his mother in a dingy motel room after a carefully timed ambush from Mickey, you’re across the town of Boulder, Colorado, sitting in the waiting area of a Planned Parenthood. The worst part is — Natasha doesn’t even know why it’s so important to keep Jake distracted.

As far as she knows, it’s because your best friend is over protective and because you’ve already got too much on your mind to deal with all the questions. It’s not entirely a lie.

The pen trembles between your fingers. A dotted line has never appeared to be quite so looming before today. All it asks for is your name, and you’re stumped. Outside, routine chanting presses on. Screeching, more like. They had caught you on the way in. People who looked far too similar to those from home, looking into your eyes, knowing exactly what you wanted so desperately to hide.

Baby. Baby. Baby. Your baby can feel already. Your baby has fingernails. Eyelashes. Heartbeat. The entire concept makes you shudder. All the times you’ve laid your head on Jake’s chest and steadied your breathing to the strong thrum of his steady heartbeat. You wonder if it sounds similar.

“It’s just a consultation.” You whisper. It isn’t until Natasha lifts her head and turns to look at you with those big, brown eyes that you realise you’ve said it outloud. One of her hands curls softly around your knee and squeezes softly. She nods. Not to you in particular.

It is just a consultation. Confirmation that you’re pregnant, a couple of questions about your permanent doctor. Whether you’ve ever been pregnant before. The doctor can see it on your face that this is uncharted territory for you. Talk about your vaccinations, your medical history.

“Okay, and is this pregnancy something that you’re looking to go through with?” You suppose there is no easy way to ask that question, and she doesn’t do it any better or worse than you would have expected. Still, it renders you totally silent. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

“Will I be able to get pregnant again?” Your voice trembled. It’s a strange thing, finding yourself worry for something you had taken for granted until this point. The answer does nothing to reassure you.

“That’s not a very straightforward question. From the exam, I can’t see any reason why not, but things can change and age will be a factor in that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m only twenty-six.”

It’s so casual. With a shrug, the doctor hums. “Just in the future. Something to be mindful of.”

You pick at your cuticles, staring towards the ground. “Do I have to decide today?”

“No. But I should advise you, it’s best to perform a termination as early as possible for safety and success.”

Without any of the answers you had been hoping for, you leave the office feeling substantially worse. You’ve been told that the entire crew are going out to a bar in town tonight. Your decision to lay in bed and wallow is both to ease Jake’s nerves and also, so that you don’t have to see his face. That doesn’t work out too well.

It’s just after six when he lets himself into your motel room and locks the door behind him. His smell fills the room, the sound of his boots tap softly against the floor. You squeeze your eyes shut as the bed dips with his weight.

“How ya feelin’, champ?”

A tired smile creeps across your face, even as you try to fight it. Jake worms his way into your bed until his face is opposite yours. Freckles on the bridge of his nose and a glint in his eye. A fond smile on his lips.

“Fine, like I told you.” You answer him. He doesn’t reach for you, but he wants to. He wants to grab both your cheeks in his hands and demand that you tell him everything the doctor told you. If you need more rest, or a certain vitamin, or if you’re allergic to the sun now or something.

As kids, you often discussed which superpower you would pick if you could have them. Right now, Jake has never wanted to be a mindreader more.

“Oh. So you don’t want the get-well treats that I got you, then?” There’s a faint rustling of a plastic bag at the bottom of his bed, purposely knocked by his leg to pique your interest.

“Depends what you got.” You both know exactly what he would have gotten you. It’s exactly what you would have gotten for yourself. Jake smiles as he sits up and pulls the bag between the two of you, setting it open to reveal the contents.

“If this doesn’t make you feel better, I think it’s time to call it. You had a good run, twenty-six isn’t a bad age.” He teases, already digging his hand through your bag of goodies to present you with the crème de le crème of gas station snacks. A warm, almost feverish, grin spreads across your lips as he hands you the chocolate bar.

Once it’s in your hands, Jake props himself up on his side and watches you take a bite. He studies you, slow and methodical, looking for any kind of discrepancy. Pain, fear — anything that will give him answers.

“You want a bite?” You offer him through a mouthful. Wordlessly, he leans in with that smirk plastered all over his face once again, and takes a bite from the top of the chocolate bar, then pulls back. Inches from your face, you watch him watching you.

“Haven’t lost your appetite. You’re warm but you don’t have a fever. Dizziness and nausea. You’d tell me if you were gonna die on me, right, Sunny girl?” With that, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe he needs the full picture to study your face better. You scoff, swallowing down a bite of the chocolate.

“I’m not dying.” It’s not the answer he’s looking for; you know you’re just inviting him to pester you more.

You think back to Matthew. You were twelve when he had to sit down his entire family and tell them that he had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant. He was nineteen at the time. They had been together a long time, but it had seemed like such a bombshell. You remember how upset Jake’s parents were originally.

Matthew’s engagement was short. He married Isabelle before she was even in her second trimester. He works on the ranch through the year and picks up trucking jobs in the off season, now with three kids total. As much as Jake loves his oldest brother — you know that Matthew was his warning sign. Even now, Matt’s a sign to Jake of what he would have to give in to if he wasn’t careful.

Jake stares across at you, “Did they figure out what’s the matter with you?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, watching your hands pluck off a piece of the chocolate and place it into your mouth. Jake’s brows knit together as he watches you fight so calmly to avoid his gaze. He’s starting to look a lot like his big brother.

“Well? — Is it curable? — You’re freaking me out here.” He prompts you, just about ready to snatch the chocolate back out of your hands if it will get him an answer. You scoff quietly. Curable. Sure — to an extent.

You inhale deeply and hold it there. All of your secrets have always also been Jake’s. He’s waiting for an answer, trying not to panic.

“I’m pregnant.”

And there it is. Lingering in the air between you, you stare across at your best friend and watch those two words change absolutely everything. All at once, his face changes and his hands are reaching out for you. His hands curl around your waist, thumbs reaching towards the middle of your stomach. Jake hasn’t ever looked quite so much like his big brother.

In a split-second decision, you rush out a remedy. “It’s not yours.”

His hands still against your middle. The greens of his eyes are pale, empty, searching. He presses his lips into a line. “How can you know that?”

“The doctor said I’m ten weeks along already,” Your lie doesn’t feel good. As it’s leaving your lips, it feels hot and uncomfortable. It doesn’t change the look on Jake’s face at all. “It was before we even hooked up.”

taglist: @fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @ahoyyharrington @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @springholland @kidd3ath @kissmecaiti @swiftsgirlfriend @emma8895eb

[wongyuuu]

memories of us | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader - soulmate!au summary: every night seokmin dreams of his past lifes, when he met and fell for his soulmate countless times. genre: fluff, angst word count: 11.9k warnings: reader has really low self esteem a/n: this is not, in any way, connected to elevator. both stories are centered around soulmates, however the rules are different. in elevator people carry marks that vanish from their bodies once they meet their soulmate, here is the bond is created by eye contact. i hope you enjoy it :)

Today, when I woke up, the first thing I thought about was you, but that’s not something new. You’re always the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last one before I go to sleep. My mind is consumed by thoughts of you the entire day. There’s not a single minute when you don’t make your presence noticed,  even if you’re not really here by my side. The funny thing is that I haven’t met you yet and somehow you are the only one in my mind. 

I started to dream of you when I was sixteen. At the time I had no idea of what was going on, I didn’t know what Memorous were, and I couldn’t even phantom why I was dreaming of an older version of myself. I was young and the naive teenager version of me thought that it was something everyone goes through. Ah, maybe these are memories from my past lives. I was right about that part, but I didn’t know the length of what was going on with me. 

It was only a month later when I told anyone about it. Because those dreams were something no one ever mentioned around me before, so I was afraid to speak about them. What if, because of those dreams, people started to label me as a freak? I had already a very negative reputation, so to say, I didn’t want to make it worse. When I finally mustered the courage to talk to someone about it, I figured that I should tell my mom about it. She was a mother, my mom, and like all moms she would probably know what to do. 

She didn’t. 

For a while, she just sat there and stared at me, not like I was a freak but as if I had become a stranger. I was no longer Lee Seokmin, her eldest son who on most days seemed like the youngest. I saw her eyes change that day, from a mother who loved her son to a woman who didn’t know who the boy in front of her was.  

It was also the first time that someone told me that I was cursed.  

None of us could be sure whether I was cursed or not, but she said it with so much belief that I knew that it had to be true. 

I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. Before my mother said those words to me, those words that would be forever stuck in my brain, you are cursed, Seokmin, and there’s nothing any of us can do to change that, I used to be normal - or as normal as a sixteen-year-old hyperactive boy could be. But the second those words were uttered, released into the world, something inside me changed.   

I think that the best way to describe it would be a click, I felt a click inside my heart. There’s no other word I could use to describe it. 

After everything that happened in the span of minutes, I changed. I started to be more restricted, no one else in the world knew about the dreams or about me being a Memorous. My circle of friends got smaller and smaller. What if, by accident, I told one of them something about the dreams, about you? That couldn’t happen. 

In reality, I didn’t have many friends. You know, the kind you tell secrets to and are really close to. Those were the kinds of people that I wanted to avoid at all costs. I wasn’t a loner, though. I had people I could hang out with, people that I would go to a bar or a club with, but I liked to be alone. 

It’s weird, isn’t it? I had friends but I wasn’t actually friends with any of them. I wasn’t a loner but the thing I enjoyed the most was being alone. 

When I turned eighteen and high school was finally over, I moved away from home. For two years I saved every cent that I could, my main goal was to just leave. I studied my eyes off in school so I could get into a university that was as far away as possible from home. I needed to get a scholarship so I wouldn’t need to ask for help from my parents. 

Doing those two things made me feel somewhat proud of myself. It was like I was telling them see just because you think I’m cursed doesn’t mean that I can’t do what I want. 

 Let me explain to you how the dreams work: every night I dream of you, no exception but every night is a different life. 

This is how Memorous must live. I remember every single thing about our past lives, all the details that people usually forget about their lives. I remember them, more or less. I know what you were wearing on April 18th, 1811; I know what was the first word you said to me in Madrid, it was a curse by the way; the first time we bonded.  

Sometimes it feels so real that I think if I look by my side, I’ll see you there. That couldn’t be true, I haven’t seen you in this lifetime - I would never be able to let you go if I had. 

There’s a trick about being a Memorous though. Once I fall asleep and dream of a different life everything I dreamed the night before vanishes and I can’t remember anything. At first, I thought that it happened like that because sometimes we forget about the dreams we have. It was as if it simply vanished from my mind, and I could only remember it when I dreamt of the same life again. It’s like a selective memory kind of thing. 

You know, the feeling of a dream being so real that you could either wake up in panic or just really happy and satisfied? 

For me, every dream was like that. If I held your hand in my dream, when I woke up I would still get the feel of your skin against mine; if we fought for whatever reason I would still feel the sadness and the anger lingering in my body. 

When I understood what was happening, I started to write down the dreams, every little detail that I could remember. Slowly I started to find a pattern in the dreams, slowly I learned to tell the lives apart and so I started notebooks. It’s a little weird, I know, but I had to keep track of our lives. Maybe, at some level, you might think that I’m crazy or that I’m a stalker. But could it be considered stalking when it’s my own life? 

I can’t wait to meet you.  Although I haven’t actually met you or even seen you this time around, I feel like I have known you all my life. Is this the feeling we’ll get when we finally meet, this feeling of fullness? 

I wonder if you feel that too. 

Out of all our lives together I have a favorite one. I mean, it is expected, isn’t it? After such a long time of living countless lives, every day being a different person - although I’m ultimately the same - we are bound to have a favorite one. 

If I do say so myself that life is very much Shakespearean. Okay, so imagine this: two families who were very powerful but were opposites and hated each other with a burning passion. And there you have it. Sounds very much like Romeo and Juliet, doesn’t it? Maybe if it happened a couple hundred years earlier, in England, then maybe I could say that we actually inspired him, but we happened far too late. 

You know, I still remember the first time I saw you that time around. I think that maybe that bond was the strongest one we’ve had, probably because we were supposed to hate each other. The idea of an unexpected bond between two opposite families is kind of thrilling, isn’t it? 

We met at a party. Because our families couldn’t even stand to be in the same space together, mostly our dads - why is it always the dads though? -, they send you and me to represent the families. As you can probably imagine, we had no idea of what the other person looked like. 

So, there I was walking inside this immense ballroom, and you were the first person I saw. Looking at you I just knew that you were out of place, that kind of environment wasn’t one you felt comfortable in. At that point, you weren’t looking at me but when you finally did, it was like the entire world stopped. I felt my heart thump inside my chest, but I could feel you too. I saw as you went wide-eyed. You took a step closer to me but then, realizing what you did, you took a couple of steps back. For the entire night, we didn’t approach each other but my eyes never left yours, as yours never left mine. 

We followed each other through the night.  I got angry, really angry, when someone wanted to talk to me because all I wanted to do was look at you. Whenever my feelings changed, I would feel yours changing too. You felt mostly curiosity. How could this man, someone you had never seen before, catch your attention in such a way that you couldn’t look at anything or anyone else? 

Back then it wasn’t like today, you know. The bond happened more quietly, or maybe we only thought it did. Though the bond is something that has been around since the beginning of time, we only found out about it much later in life. I suppose that back then we still didn’t know much about it. Maybe the change everyone felt around a couple that was bonding was there but because we didn’t know what it was supposed to be we just overlooked it. 

Back to the story. 

You were the first one to make a move to leave but I couldn’t let you go, no way. I followed you out and much to my own surprise you were waiting for me, because somehow you knew that I had to go after you. We didn’t say much, just promised to meet each other a couple of days later. 

From that moment on, things took off, or as much as you could possibly expect from a couple in the early nineteen century. We would always meet each other. Everything was exciting because no one could know about what we were doing. Besides the whole ‘my family hates yours’ problem that we had, there was also the problem that both of us were promised to other people. You were supposed to marry a young Duque and I had to marry the daughter of a rich family. If we were against it before, imagine what it was like after we found out about how we felt for each other. 

Our happiness didn’t last very long. We were careless and, although we were trying to hide it, we weren’t as stealthy about it as we liked to imagine. 

It’s needless to say that when our families found out they were far from happy. They didn’t try to kill us or anything that dramatic, but they started to rush things. Your marriage that was supposed to happen only a year later was set to two weeks later; mine was happening in a few days. Of course, neither of us accepted that. 

On the night before my wedding, I felt something trying to pull me. It was like my legs were moving on their own and I saw myself walking out of the house and into the city. I found you there, all alone in the middle of the street, staring at the church I was supposed to get married in. I realized then that the sadness I felt was only partially mine, a lot of it was coming from you. I didn’t really understand how it was possible for me to feel everything that you were feeling but I knew that there wasn’t another explanation for it. 

You couldn’t control your emotions and tears were running down your cheeks, you tried hard to push them aside, but it was of no use. The more you tried to make the tears stop the more they fell. I couldn’t control myself by then. You were afraid when my arm went around you but once you knew that it was me you turned in my arms. The tears that ran down your face were no longer out of pain and hurt, they were because we were finally reunited. 

We ran away. We didn’t take anything with us. There was no time to go home and get clothes, or say goodbye. We were sure that if we were together then everything would be alright. Because we had each other nothing in the world nothing could hurt us. 

That's… that’s as far as the dreams go. I’d like to think that we had a happy ending. 

 Two years into college I finally understood what my mom meant when she said that I am cursed. 

You see, the dreams I have at night are just fragments, tiny little pieces of an entire puzzle. I could only see a day or a week, at most. But the thing is that I only saw us young, meeting, starting the bond, falling in love. Not once did my dreams show us a little older, getting married, having kids, or even if things didn’t work between us. I never dreamed of those things. 

At first, my guess was that the dreams were trying to show me a way to get to you, find you in a world that’s filled with billions of people. That wasn’t the case. 

One night I dreamed of you dying. I woke up in despair. Instead of the sweet dreams, filled with warm touches and whispered words, I faced images of you surrounded by blood, a lifeless body in my arms. 

For a while I wanted to make myself believe that it was just a nightmare, that it would eventually go away but I knew it wasn’t that simple, nothing ever is. 

I kept seeing the same thing for days and every day it got worse and worse. It got to the point where I stopped sleeping at all. Every time I closed my eyes I could see your body on the ground, eyes wide open. I knew that it wasn’t true, but I felt like you were looking at me, like you blamed me for your death. 

I searched it up. If the same thing happened to other Memorous I wanted to know how to make it stop, if I could even do something like that. From task number one I had problems. 

For one, Memorous doesn’t like to be clear about it, we are heavily judged by it because no one understands what it is like to be one. Most people just think that we are making a fuss over nothing, that knowing what your soulmate looks like, what that person likes and dislikes makes it much easier to find the person you are supposed to bond with. What they don’t know is that, like everyone else in the world, people’s taste, personalities and all else changes. In one of your lives, you were a dancer, the stage was your home, and being watched by people was something you thrived off of but in the next one you were a shy girl who couldn’t bear the thought of people looking at her (this actually happened, just so you know). 

Second, there aren’t many Memorous in the world. We are considered an anomaly, there are very few of us. I believe that we will only be able to understand why we are born this way when a scientist is born as a Memorous. 

But not everything is a lost hope! God bless the people who aren’t scared to share their stories because they want to help other people. I found this post, on a very weird and hard to find website, saying that there is a way to break this ‘curse’. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s not up to us to end the cycle. Well, technically it is but it’s not a choice that we can make. It’s confusing, I know. 

Apparently, the only way for us to stay together for a long time is if both of us are born Memorous, meaning that you and I must know our past lives. The one who wrote the post was a young boy, claiming that it was his grandparents’ story and that both of them were still alive and fine. 

It’s not much but at least it’s something. I can’t help but wonder if this time around you already know who I am. 

I saw you today, or at the very least I thought that I did. I looked at my right and you were right there! Your eyes went anywhere but me, it was like you were purposely trying to avoid me. I went after you, called after you (even though I don’t know what you’re called in this life). It seemed that you were running away from me, though I’m sure that wasn’t the case. How could you run from someone you don’t know? 

On days like this, I think I’m starting to lose my mind. The dreams are starting to feel more real than ever, and I don’t know what to do. Is it because we are getting closer to each other? Maybe we are in the same city? I hope so. 

I’ve hoping for something, just a tiny signal, for the longest time. Was today it? I think about seeing you, how the dreams are now just a repeat of all the first meetings before, how every day when I wake up I have a feeling inside my heart telling me that we are getting closer to each other. 

Are we? Does this mean that we are getting closer? 

Maybe this is the universe’s way of letting us know. Because our lives, all of them, have been so messed up that this is fate’s way of apologizing for all the crap that it put us through. 

I’m going to find you soon. Hopefully, wherever you are you’re also looking for me and that will probably make our lives that much easier. 

You closed the journal and put it aside. You managed to hold yourself back while reading, you didn’t want the tears in the back of your eyes to fall on the pages, the precious pages that told your story through Seokmin’s eyes. 

It had been hard to come to terms with the idea, the fact, that he was your soulmate but over the years you became more and more used to it. Your lives were too different, your backgrounds complete opposites, and yet - somehow - you were it for each other. 

The first time you saw him on TV, you clearly remembered how you felt. It was as if someone had just punched you in the chest. On the other side of the tiny screen was the boy - now the man - you had been dreaming about for years of your life. You never thought that you would find him, especially so soon but then again if you thought about all your dreams, both of you seemed young - maybe even younger than your 25 years. 

You stayed away from the TV for about a month after that, but you knew that it wouldn’t last much longer than that. The entire time Seokmin was in the back of your mind, always making sure that you wouldn’t forget him. That was simply something that would never happen, you forgetting about him - even if that was one of the many things that you wanted to do. Eventually, you found yourself turning the TV on again, watching every single program, every video, and buying any magazine that featured him. 

Thinking back at it, you felt sort of stupid for doing those things and not just trying to look for him. You were right, your soulmate was Seokmin but your own insecurities were holding you back. Out of everything you had, there was one problem you considered to be major: you had nothing to offer him. 

You were the kid no one wanted, the kid that had been tossed into an orphanage at the age of eight, and no one had gone back to take claim. Like a monkey on a tree, you moved from house to house without a chance of staying, even the prospect of making friends didn’t exist. 

Growing up you always dreamed of meeting your soulmate, imagined the way you would finally meet the other person. In your mind you were always the hotshot, someone who could make anything happen with a simple word. As you got older you wanted to just live a decent life but all you had was a shitty rented apartment in a sketchy area of the city, a shower that didn’t run with hot water, and were living paycheck by paycheck. 

That wasn’t the life you wanted, it was a life that you were almost embarrassed over. How could you ever share a life with someone when you could hardly sustain yourself? That wasn’t possible. 

But then it happened. You got dragged by your friend to go to the TV station and watched as Seokmin recorded a program. Jun said that he wouldn’t notice you, that you would sit far in the back, and you could put your bangs down and cover your eyes so there wouldn’t be a single chance of the bond happening. 

It was a lie, you knew that. Jun lied straight to your face, and you let yourself fall for it. You couldn’t say no to him, much less to his kids. Hana was so excited about it. Watching Seokmin on TV was her favorite thing in the world, more than dancing or watching cartoons. He’s pretty and funny, my soulmate has to be just like him, she said. It was funny and endearing to watch. Sometimes you just wanted to meet Seokmin because of her, because she was so in love with him. The day you decided to take a step forward was also the day you took eleven steps back. 

“Are excited?” Jun bumped his shoulder into yours and smiled. 

He could be the kind of person your silly heart would fall for if there weren’t any soulmates. Jun was essentially a good person, with a heart made of gold and filled with so much love that his kids would never go a day in life thinking that he didn’t love them. 

“No" yet another lie. 

You were excited, a little too excited. Or maybe your excitement was actually just fear. Fear that the bond might happen, fear that Seokmin would be disappointed in who you were, fear that maybe your dreams would come true. 

“You said that Seokmin is pretty” Hana called out. 

A moment of weakness that you regretted. 

“Handsome, honey. Boys are handsome” 

She repeated the word a few times as if trying to memorize but everyone knew that she would just keep calling boys pretty. 

“Why are you carrying her around like she’s three?” 

Hana sighed and hugged Jun’s neck, her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m daddy’s little girl” 

Jun looked like he was about to cry and Hanbin just groaned, his sister’s act wasn’t something that he was too fond of. You could only smile at them. They were almost too cute for you to handle. 

You were one of the first people to get in so there were still a lot of empty spots to choose from. The second you and Jun started to move towards the back Hanbin and Hana protested.  Of course, they didn’t want to sit in the back. Besides being kids, and too short to be able to see anything, both liked Seokmin so being too far away was not something that they wanted. In the end, you caved. You couldn’t say no to two kids who were doing the puppy eyes at the same time. 

As minutes went by and the studio got filled with people you started to get nervous. You ran your sweaty hands on your jeans trying to get them dry, but it was useless. Every person who walked inside made your heart skip a beat because you thought that it could be him. It never was. The scared part of your brain told you that it was a good thing, that maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, but the other part, the one that wanted to see him in person just once, told you to just wait a little longer because he was going to show. 

You waited, for over an hour and there was no sign of him. You knew that in this kind of event it could take them a while to get everything sorted but you were told that it shouldn’t take long once you all went inside. 

“Stop,” Jun said, his hand on your arm “Don’t overthink it" 

He was smiling at you kindly. It was the kind of smile that was supposed to calm you down and reassure you and yet all it did was make you even more nervous. 

“What if we bond?” 

“Then you’ll deal with it later” 

What if I don’t know how to deal with it? 

When people started to scream you looked up and saw the host walking in. He talked for a couple of minutes, made a few jokes trying to be funny and then he introduced Lee Seokmin, a TV personality. The crowd went crazy, there was a girl behind you screaming so loud that you thought you’d go deft. 

Seokmin walked in, his characteristic smile in place, as he waved at the audience. 

Seeing him in person made the world slow down, even your own heart. Instead of going crazy, your heart nearly stopped, as the sight of Seokmin put you at ease. Your hands were no longer shaking, you didn’t feel like trying to hide yourself anymore. In fact, seeing him made your soul scream at you it’s him, what are you waiting for? Your soul was begging you to go to him. After all, it knew him, because despite being apart for years it recognized him immediately. 

And then Seokmin looked at you. 

His eyes were on yours as he stood frozen there. You could feel him everywhere. He was shocked, surprised, caught off guard, hopeful, and just so happy. His happiness was contagious because inside you felt happy too. You wanted to stand up and hug him, stay as close as possible to him. The fear you felt for years was momentarily forgotten in the back of your mind. 

Your legs moved before you could even realize what you were doing. You stood up and walked to him, stopping only a couple of steps away from him. You felt his heartbeat like it was just under your skin. Being so close to him made your body tingle in the best way possible. Your entire being was begging you to just take another step, just one closer to him, just so you could touch him and feel him all around you. 

When Seokmin moved forward, his hand raised ready to touch you - just like you wanted to do - you took a step back. Suddenly the realization of what could happen came crashing down around you. Your dreams, and images of Seokmin lying lifeless on the floor that had been engraved in your mind were unexpectedly in your eyes. You could see it coming, your downfall, and the things you dreaded the most, happening. 

“I…” 

Seokmin wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to. What words could he possibly profess that would make the fear running through your body go away? 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this" 

Turning around and walking away from him might have been the hardest thing you ever did. 

You tried your best to keep living normally but it was close to impossible. Every second that went by you were reminded of Seokmin, of the broken look on his face when you walked away, of the way he felt like he had somehow done something wrong. And he felt unloved when it was supposed to be just the other way around. Even before the bond, before you had the chance to look at him in the eyes, you already had feelings for him. Perhaps it was because you knew that you were supposed to love him, you knew that once you met him your feelings would be unstoppable, or it was just because he was charming. 

And just how charming he was. 

You didn’t know one single person who disliked him, someone who would flat-out say that there was nothing good to like about him. Everyone loved Seokmin, his easy smile and friendly eyes pulled everyone in. 

“Until when are you going to keep avoiding him?” 

Jun had become the personification of what was happening inside of you. You wanted to meet Seokmin, desperately. You wanted to find out where he was and just go to him, introduce yourself, and just talk to him. Everything seemed so simple inside your mind, and in Jun’s as well, but it was so far from it. 

“You’re just avoiding it, you know that” 

“So, what if I am? I’m sorry if I don’t want to see my soulmate die!” 

You weren’t angry at your friend or even Seokmin, as he would feel sometimes. You were just angry at everyone else, at the world, at destiny, at anyone in the world who decided that it was a good idea to make you see your soulmate die every night. 

“I know that, but wouldn’t it be better if you could spend some time with him? Let’s say that you’ll have six months together, that’s it. No more and no less. Don’t you want to be with him for as long as you possibly can instead of keep hiding in here?” Jun moved his hand showing the lounge of his dance school “Think of all your past lives, about how happy you were because you were with Seokmin. In this life too, shouldn’t you be able to feel that kind of happiness?” 

Jun was the only person who knew that you were Memorous and he was also the only person who would say that there was nothing wrong with it. You aren’t cursed. If you ask me, you are one of the lucky ones. I would anything to have more memories with Seol. He was also the kind of friend who wasn’t scared to say that you were messing up your own life, that you were doing something wrong. Most days he would act like the dad you never had. You were grateful for him, for having someone so eager to make sure that you were happy. 

“Here’s a wild scenario” Jun smiled at Hana, who was running to him, as he stood up “Seokmin doesn’t die" 

His words left you speechless as you watched him move away from you. 

When you got home that day Seokmin’s journals were waiting at your doorstep. 

Reading Seokmin’s words was much like reading your own. Since you started to have dreams, you thought that you were the only one who felt like that, like the only one who didn’t have anyone else to run to. Yes, both of your lives were very different, the place both of you came from was also different. But looking at it or wasn’t all that different. 

His words and the way he described his feelings for you were the things that made you take a deep breath and go meet him. 

I know that you are scared, I can feel it but please reconsider it. I’ve been waiting for a moment like this for a very long time and I would like to believe that you have too. I’ll be in the city for a few more days so let’s meet. If you don’t come to me, I will go to you. We can’t run away from this. 

Seokmin. 

Somehow you found yourself getting out of your tiny apartment and going towards Seokmin. You knew just how much he could feel your nervousness and yet he tried to stay calm so you could feel at ease too. The entire time, since you left the TV station, you could feel him in your mind and it was like he was talking to you, trying to convince you to meet or just to be comfortable with the idea of him. 

At times you could swear that he was talking to you, his voice clear in your mind. It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. It was like Seokmin himself could read your thoughts. Of course, there were moments when he would feel that spark of fear, and anxiety but most of the time he was in complete control of his emotions. He was doing that for you, there was no mistake, so you felt childish for being all over the place and guilty for bombarding him with emotions that you couldn’t fully grasp. 

That was one of the many reasons why you decided to go to him. His words had been the main reason, but you also wanted to put your heart in peace. From the second you walked away from him your heart had been heavy. It was the kind of emotion that was impossible to verbalize, the only word that could possibly come to mind was lost. Your heart was lost. You walked around feeling like there was a huge part of you missing, your eyes looked for something, someone, that was never there. 

It was like that until you got his journals. Although you didn’t feel whole you could feel that a little piece of you was back. Perhaps it truly wasn’t a part of you, instead what could be the missing was a piece of you never found before. 

The missing piece had always been Seokmin. 

You stopped in front of his door, your hand closed into a fist just an inch away. 

The truth was that everything you felt, every tiny thing, could be summed into just one word: fear. You were scared. 

For years you saw Seokmin die in your dreams, he died in a new way every night. You saw, more times than you could count, the life left his eyes as he took his last breath. Sometimes you would just hear about it from someone, just words thrown into a conversation – words that always managed to break your heart. It never mattered how you found out, it always happened suddenly and unexpectedly. 

Whenever you and he were settling into a life together, when you allowed yourself to love each other freely, it happened. You always thought that your love for him, as his for you, worked like a time bomb. And the moment the bond was made was when your time started to run out. 

The only thing you thought about was how if you never made the bond then Seokmin would be able to live a long and happy life. It was okay if once, just once, you didn’t find your soulmate. As long as Seokmin got to live, you were fine with whatever life threw at you. Many people went through life without ever finding their soulmates but that didn’t mean that they weren’t happy. It just meant that they had to find other ways to be happy. 

“Just, please, knock on the door” 

You turned around, startled by the sudden presence behind you, a voice that you had memorized a long time before meeting the person to whom it belonged. Seokmin was there, looking at you like he had just walked out of some kind of sappy movie with his hair a mess and a hoodie that was at least three sizes bigger than him. 

“How long have you been there?” 

He smiled at you then making you feel like your insides were melting. Seeing him was like making the bond all over again. Your hands were sweating, your heartbeat out of control, slow, fast, and slow. The air around you was heavy and the tension between the two of you was almost palpable, like a thin sheet separating you and him. 

“Long enough to know that you’ve been hesitating, for at least, five minutes” 

How was it possible for him to be so calm when you felt like your heart was about to combust? Having him so close to you made your entire body shake. You almost wanted to take a step back before you fell to your knees. It was like your legs were barely there to support you. 

“I want to say so many things but I’m afraid that if I do, you’ll run away again” 

You shook your head at him. This time around you weren’t leaving or running. You had made it this far, there was no way you were backing down. Somehow, seeing Seokmin in front of you made you feel stronger like you could fight the entire universe just because he was right there by your side. He wasn’t doing anything, but he looked at you like you were everything that he had been waiting for and then some more. 

“I came so that we could talk” you tried to smile in reassurance, for him or yourself you weren’t sure “Do you want to do this here or somewhere else…?” 

“I think that it would be best if we had some privacy” 

You took a step aside to let Seokmin open the door to his hotel room. 

You had always been scared of people, not of what they could do to you in the spot but of what they could cause in the long run. From a young age, you learned that you were alone and that the people around you never really wanted you there. For the foster homes you went through most of your life, you were just a way to get easy money; for your first boyfriend you were just a pity bet; for your high school friends you were just the girl they let hang out with them in exchange for assignments; for your parents, you were just someone, something, that they could easily toss aside when they finally got bored. 

All of those things left deep scars on you. Though you did your best to cover them, they were always there right under the surface. You always smiled at people and made sure to tell them that you were perfectly fine even though you weren’t, even though all you wanted was to curl into yourself and let yourself feel all that pain. 

Jun had been the first person to get through to you, the only one who had stayed long enough for you to think that maybe he was around you because he actually liked you and not because he wanted something from you in return. 

It was true that Seokmin was your soulmate, that once the bond is made someone can never really walk away from it. You knew all of those things, like a book that you were constantly reading. Knowing something is completely different than doing it. The insecurities, always in the back of your mind, screamed at you louder than any belief or hope. Your brain always told you that someone like Seokmin, someone who had everything – and anyone – he could possibly want, would never stay for someone like you, bond or no bond. 

“Do you want something to drink? I can get you anything you want” 

Seokmin opened the door for you and pointed at the couch in front of it. As you had expected his room wasn’t just room, it was like a goddamn apartment – hell it was bigger than half of the houses you went through as a teenager. 

“I… it’s fine. I’m fine” 

Seokmin knew that you weren’t fine but chose to stay quiet about it, he knew that it wasn’t a good idea to tell you just how much of you he could understand. It wasn’t only because he could feel every tiny thing coming from you but also because you were like an open book, filled with words begging to be read. 

“I got your journals,” you said “I also read them” 

Your words made Seokmin sigh in relief. He thought that if you saw his journals, and read his feelings, you would be able to understand how desperate he felt, how much his feelings had been all over the place – despite him trying to remain calm. His feelings mirrored yours very much, almost in every way. 

“Because you shared yours with me, I think it’s only fair if I do the same with you” 

He looked up at you, surprise all over his face as you handed him the small box you had been carrying. 

“I’ve dreamed about you, for the past ten years, too. Every night I saw you and fell for you, every version of you” 

The surprise Seokmin felt, the happiness, and the relief that ran through his body the moment he saw you at his door was almost completely gone when he heard what you were saying.  He wanted to think that maybe he heard it wrong but the look in your eyes assured him that he hadn’t heard it wrong. Your words had been loud and clear, ricocheting inside his brain. 

“For how long you have known about me?” 

Your heart was breaking, shattering into tiny pieces when you saw and felt the change in Seokmin. He held the box with your journals like it weighed a thousand pounds, his face was contorted with something that you couldn’t decipher but his feelings were clear, like the sky on a starry night. Seokmin felt betrayed, hurt, and unwanted, all things that weren’t true. 

“Since you started, around the same time, since I was sixteen as well” you whispered. 

Seokmin felt his heart drop all the way down to his toes feeling sick to his stomach. He had always wanted to find you, from the day he understood what his dreams meant he looked for you – everywhere and anywhere in the world. You were the reason why he even started to work in TV, he thought that if he got a job that required him to talk to a lot of people then it would be easier to find you. But the idea, now the fact, that you had always known about him but even then, decided not to look for him, not to take a step away from him, was like a slap to his face. 

“Do you know that I tried to look for you everywhere? I nearly went crazy. Every day since my dreams, the memories of us, started I searched for you. While you…” he scoffed like the world had played yet another sick joke on him “You knew who I was but you never…” 

He couldn’t bring himself to say it; thinking about it – feeling it – was already bad enough. Seokmin didn’t want to voice it, if he did then everything would become that much more real, too real, more heartbreaking than anything else in his life up until that moment. 

The dreams crushed his heart every morning when he woke up. Seokmin felt his heart die a little inside his chest for the life he never got to live with you, for the words he never got to hear from you, for seeing the bright light leave your eyes time and time again. But ultimately those dreams were just that: dreams, memories of a different period in time, of a different life that although felt real, it no longer was. 

“I was afraid, Seokmin…” 

“I know that you were! I felt it, with fiber in my body, I knew that you were scared, terrified that for some reason I wouldn’t love you. I knew all of that like it was my own fear” 

The despair he had in his voice was felt in your body, every tiny cell. You hated that he was feeling like that, that your first ever encounter with him – a proper one – was only worth a fight. That was not how you wanted things to go. You thought that if you ever met him things would run smoothly but the reality of it was far from your expectations. 

“Like you, I am a Memorous” you had to say it, you needed Seokmin to hear your words just once “The first time I saw you, like you are right now, was on TV but it was so fast that I couldn’t be sure. I was on the bus, passing by a TV store. The next day I stayed in front of the same store the entire day, waiting for that brief second of your face for hours. When I finally saw you I cried, right there in the middle of the sidewalk because I just felt so happy to see you, to finally find the boy that I had seen so many times before, the boy I loved so blindly, even though I have never met before. 

“But the dreams… they are alive inside my mind. I don’t forget them like you do. My brain stores them like they are memories of this life, all those feelings were as real as if I lived them this time around. I thought about all the times I saw you die, and I couldn’t live through that again. I couldn’t let that happen to you, not after I saw you. I only knew you from the screen of my tv but my feelings were already so strong. I wanted the bond to happen, you can’t doubt that for a second, but I was scared. I would very much rather live knowing that you were somewhere out there, living a happy and long life than having you live a short one with me” 

Your words were more than enough to make Seokmin stop. Until that moment, his mind was flying all over the place but the second you opened your mouth he couldn’t bring himself to be angry anymore. Those feelings, the fear of seeing your other half – the one you were supposed to be with – die, was one he knew very well. He often wondered what would happen when he finally met you. 

The first time he saw you, he had been over the moon, he felt you and everything else. He felt the pull and your desire to get closer to him. To say that Seokmin was surprised when you ran away was an understatement. He didn’t truly understand everything that was happening inside of him, the unthinkable mix of you and him made him feel dizzy because he couldn’t set you apart. 

He could finally understand the things you did but it didn’t mean that he liked them. 

“I think it’s going to be a very long night” 

Seokmin read your journals in front of you, and it didn’t feel embarrassing. Those journals, your words, had been written for him and for him only. While you wrote down your dreams you thought of him, of how he would read them one day and how much you wanted him to. 

You spent the entire night in his hotel room. You talked for hours and hours and suddenly the subject wasn’t as heavy anymore, both of your fears momentarily forgotten, and you were simply enjoying each other’s company. 

Seokmin was everything that he seemed to be, but he was also that much different. His bubbly personality was still there, fully out in the open for everyone to see, but there was also a shy side to him - one that not many people knew about but it was cute to watch. More often than he would like to admit, Seokmin would trip over his words, insecure about what he could and couldn’t say to you. The ice is still very thin, it’s making me nervous he said at some point in the night. 

You had scooted closer to him or maybe he got closer to you, how it happened didn’t really matter. You found yourself sitting on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest as Seokmin quietly played with your fingers. 

Just having him around you felt like a dream but the moment his skin touched yours? It was like fireworks exploded under your skin, like every single nerve in your body was suddenly awake. You could feel him everywhere, like he was not just the man in front of you, but he was also part of the air, like he could be all around you whilst staying in the exact same spot. He gave you calmness, a sense of peace and security. Things that up until that moment no one had been able to give you, not even yourself. 

“I really want to kiss you” you whispered.  Seokmin’s fingers stilled in yours and something sparkled in his eyes as he looked at you. The moment was suspended in the air as if it wasn’t neither here or there, as if time itself had stopped and all the attention was now on the two of you and the way you were feeling in that very second. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, you didn’t want to. It was the first time, in your entire life, that you craved someone’s touch and presence. With Seokmin you wanted that and so much more, everything that he had to give, you wanted. 

Feeling like that for someone after only knowing them for a couple of hours was impossible, the kind of thing that you would never expect to happen, the kind of thing that you would laugh at because something like that couldn’t exist. But with you and Seokmin, nothing was as it seemed. 

It was true that you had only known him for a little while but just in this life. When you looked at him you saw traces of the many different people that he had been in the past and because of that, it was like you fully knew him. That wasn’t the case, and you knew that, but even so, the feeling of reconnection still existed. 

Seokmin inched forward, his eyes focused on your lips, as he interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards him. There was one second of hesitation, one tiny second that felt like an eternity before his lips finally pressed on yours and then it was pure magic. 

Seokmin had to leave a few days later and you hated the idea of having to see him walk away. It wasn’t final, you knew that, but it hurt all the same. He had stayed in the city for you far longer than he was supposed to, his phone always blowing up with text messages from people concerned about his whereabouts when in reality he had been locked up with you inside your apartment. 

On the contrary to what you previously thought, Seokmin didn’t care about your tiny apartment, about the fact that you had been to more foster homes than what you were willing to admit, or about the fact that you didn’t have a degree. I like you for you, not for the baggage that comes with you. 

You sat at the airport for hours after his flight departed, the emptiness growing inside of you as the seconds ticked away. 

Seokmin felt the same way. He wanted to stay or for you to just go with him, but he didn’t dare to ask. He knew that even though you didn’t think much of your life, you liked it. You loved to be a receptionist at Jun’s school, loved being surrounded by the kids, loved the city you lived in, and you were a little proud of yourself for being your own person and living your own life - even though you would never admit it. He got into the plane with a heavy heart, but he had to figure things out. He had to find a way for the two of you to be together. It was uncertain of what the future held for you. You could be together for just a year before one of you died or your entire life was still ahead of you. The not knowing drove him crazy. 

 Three weeks apart was all he could take before he found himself boarding a plane to the other side of the country and breaking a few contracts while he did so. You called every day, facetimed whenever there was a chance and texts were always a constant but just that wasn’t enough. 

Due to the distance, the constant pull to you only grew stronger and the grasp he had of your feelings, how Seokmin could tell exactly what was going on with you, was slowly disappearing. It wasn’t that you were learning to control what he could and couldn’t see. Once the bond is made the newfound soulmates need to stay close to each other, it’s physically and mentally tiring to be away. He noticed that you sounded more exhausted on the phone, as your eyes nearly closed when you talked on Facetime. 

All those things pulled him to you, yes, but Seokmin also wanted to see you desperately. 

He didn’t tell you that he was coming to see you, he wanted to make it a surprise. The entire flight he felt just how happy you were, probably because you were at the dance school with the kids, but he also noticed your worry, because he hadn’t answered his phone in a few hours, as you tried to push it as far back in your mind as possible. 

The long see-through glass walls of the school allowed Seokmin to see you inside. He heard your laugh before he saw you, the sound had been imprinted in his mind like the type of song that just gets stuck. And then he saw your profile looking at the little boy in front of you lovingly. When you smiled, he thought that his heart would explode inside his chest. 

Seeing you, even from far away, was like going home after a long time. The feeling of calmness, the feeling of finally being able to breathe properly. Just looking at you made him lighter in a way that he couldn’t exactly put into words. 

The kids were the first ones to see Seokmin. The little boy you talked to gasped, and his eyes went wide. All the other kids had the same reaction, some of them pointed at him while others just went back to what they were doing before. 

You stood frozen in place and watched Seokmin walk from where he was to the door. You had to make sure that he was really there, that it wasn’t something that you were imagining. If it wasn’t for the cute selfies he sent you stored in your phone, you would be sure that meeting Seokmin and everything else that happened after had been nothing but a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time you wished for a life that could never have. 

You got up and took a step away from the kids before walking as fast as you could - nearly running - towards him. He met you halfway, his arms reached for you before you collapsed into him. 

You sighed in contentment and relief when you felt his skin against yours, when his warmth enveloped you. Everything else was forgotten and it no longer mattered. 

“You’re really here,” you said against his neck. 

His chuckle ran through your entire body and he tightened his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to him. 

“Half a country away is too much" he murmured. 

You stayed in place for minutes, long enough for one of the kids to get bored and call out your name a couple of times. One of them ran inside and got Jun, because the little boy thought that Seokmin might be holding you for too long. 

“This reunion is great and all but it’s weird for the kids” 

At the sound of your friend’s voice, you let go of Seokmin but you didn’t go too far. Three weeks had been long enough, you would take whatever few moments with him that you could get before he had to leave again. So you stayed by Seokmin’s side, your fingers interlocked with his. 

“Seokmin, this is Jun” 

“I was the one who gave him your address, how else do you think he would send you his journals?” 

Seokmin looked at you, with surprise in his face. He hadn’t expected you to tell someone about it, about his journals, or about anything at all. From the moment he saw you, and even from the journals you wrote, he knew that you were the kind of person who didn’t tell those around her much about her life so it was a surprise that you had talked about it with someone. 

“It’s good to see that things worked out for you,” Jun said, he looked at the watch on his wrist before looking back at you again “Go on, take the rest of the day off” 

You shook at head, pointing at the kids behind him - who were already making a fuss all over the place. 

“I still have a few more hours to go and you need help with the kids” 

Jun just rolled his eyes when he took a few steps closer to you and Seokmin, pretty much pushing out of the door. 

“I’ll let you know that there was a time when I managed this place just fine without you” 

 For the rest of the day, you walked around town with Seokmin. He held your hand the entire time, letting it go just to put his arm around your shoulder, either way, he always had his hands on you. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you liked it a lot. The idea of always being close to him made your heart flutter in impossible ways, made you imagine what life would be like when you finally got to be with him for more than a few hours at a time, it made you wish for a future when you would be able to see him every day and talk to him and just be around him. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Seokmin said when you reached your neighborhood. 

“That could be dangerous” 

During the time you and Seokmin talked on the phone, he told a lot about his childhood and there was one thing that was clear to you: he was an unpredictable kid. His ideas were always crazy and so unnatural for a child. When you were in foster care you thought that the other kids were crazy, but they were just reckless, Seokmin was wild. 

“I should have never told you those stories,” he said with a sigh, a tiny smile on his face “I’ve got this job offer, here in the city. It’s not like what I do now but I think that it could be fun and I’ll try to make it work as much as possible. If I do take it, we’ll be closer to each other” 

You were shaking your head before he was done speaking. Seokmin changing jobs, and doing something else that was not what he wanted initially was a huge no. 

“You’re not moving here” 

He sighed again and took your hand in his. 

“I know you’re worried about my job, but I only started to do it because I thought that it was the easiest way to find you. I can do something else, anything else, if it means that I can have you” 

You turned to look at him, your hand squeezing his. His words assured you, more than anything in the world. Hearing those words was the only thing you needed. 

“Remember how I told you that Jun’s soulmate mom is a social worker? She told me that there is this University, not the most prestigious one but a university nonetheless, that is more likely to give out scholarships. A couple of months ago I took the test to get in and I got the results a week ago” 

Seokmin nodded at you, not really understanding what you meant. Truth be told, he was a little hurt. The second he mentioned it you were already denying it, like the mere idea of having him close to was repulsive. He knew that couldn’t be the case, knew that those things never reached your heart but even so, the feeling of getting rejected was there. 

“I got in. I have to move there in the next few weeks or so, to settle in and find my way around town” 

“Where… where is that?” 

You laughed and kissed him quickly. He looked way too cute with the confused look on his face. 

“I didn’t ask for your address just to have it, Seokmin. I want to be close to you so I was looking for a place near yours but also close enough to the university” 

Before you even done speaking Seokmin already had his arms around while he placed quick kisses all over your face, making you laugh. 

Moving away was harder than expected. There weren’t many things that tied you to that place, but the few things that did make it heartbreaking. 

Just as you predicted, telling Jun was easy. Your friend, like always, had been supportive saying that he had your back in all the choices you’ve made and the choices that you would come to make. 

His kids were a completely different story. When you told Hana about it, she started to cry, tears running down her little face and sobs escaping her lips. You knew that it was going to be hard to talk to her, but you didn’t think that it was going to be like that. Hanbin was easier but you knew that he was also feeling it. 

“Will you call us every day?” 

“I’ll call you every Sunday morning,” you said pinching her cheeks “We all know how much your dad loves Sunday mornings” 

Jun groaned but he still had a smile on his face. 

“Why do you hate me?” 

It broke your heart to leave all three of them, but it was something that you had to do, not only because you wanted to be close to Seokmin but because of yourself. The change was something that you needed to do in order to move your life forward. 

Moving day wasn’t as terrible as you expected. Seokmin had helped you move all your stuff, boxing everything to perfection. You didn’t have much you wanted to take with you but even so, everything you owned had been labeled and wrapped. 

Somehow Seokmin had managed to convince you to just move in with him. You tried to deny him at first. It didn’t make any sense; you had just started something with him and suddenly you were putting your toothbrushes together. That was way too fast. “We don’t know how much time we have together so why waste it by being apart?”  You tried reasoning with him “What if I can’t stand your habits and you hate mine?” To what he just said, “I’ll love all of your nasty habits and I’ll be the perfect prince, so you’ll have nothing to complain about”. 

It all ended with a heated make-out session on your couch. 

Seokmin was feeling edgy. He was supposed to be home hours ago, he knew that you were worried but restraining yourself from calling him. He loved his job, he really did, and it was amazing that he got to keep it and be with you at the same time, but he hated days like those. He hated the late-night shootings when he had to be away - especially when he could feel how worried you were - and he didn’t even like to think about when he had to do something out of town. 

The drive back home felt endless. He broke God knows how many speed limits, and crossed a few red lights. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, he knew that there wasn’t anything wrong going on at home. You would have called him in case something happened, he would have felt something change. 

But at times he couldn’t help but feel anxious. 

It had been four years. Four years since you found each other, since you started your life together, probably the four happiest years of his. But whenever he wasn’t expecting it, whenever Seokmin started to feel comfortable again with his life and you around him, his dreams would come back to haunt him. Instead of seeing you, in the past, he saw you as you were in this life. He saw the woman he loved, more than any of his dreams could have let him know, die in front of him, in his arms. It was always like that, you had a smile on your face, a tear ran down your cheek and you said that loved him. 

On nights like that, he would search for you. His arms moved directly to you and pulled you to him as quiet sobs escaped his lips. You always cried with him on nights like that. You didn’t have those sorts of dreams, but his despair and fear ran through your body as if they were your own. 

That night was just like that. The whole day he had a sickening feeling in his stomach. Like the world was telling him that something was bound to happen. The one thing that had somehow calmed him was how at ease you were during most of the way. 

Seokmin walked inside a house in darkness, the light in the hallway the only thing that could possibly tell him that there was someone home. You always did that for him when he had one of his late nights. 

You were sleeping in the bedroom, so Seokmin tried his best not to make a sound. But he knew that all his efforts were useless when he walked out of the bathroom to find the bedside lamp on and you looking at him. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you” 

You sat up and smiled at him, shaking your head. It was a good thing that he had woken you up. Your sleep wasn’t peaceful, no nightmares or dreams but although you were asleep you still had that weird feeling of being awake while sleeping. 

“It’s fine, I actually have to talk to you about something” 

Seokmin wouldn’t like what you had to say to him, in fact, you were pretty sure that he would probably hate it. 

“I talked to your sister today” the words left your lips in a quiet whisper. 

Seokmin stood still, his eyes focused on you, but his mind was somewhere entirely. He finally understood why you had felt so anxious and nervous during lunchtime and why he was feeling on edge the entire day. 

“We’re not doing this” he shook his head. 

“Seokmin it’s been 12 years, you’re going to have to talk to them at some point” 

You reached for his hand at the same that Seokmin scoffed at you. 

“You haven’t talked to your parents in 22 years and I don’t push toward them” 

Seokmin regretted his words the second he said them. He watched as you tried your best to control your emotions and not let him feel just how hurt you truly felt about his words. You pulled back the hand you reached to Seokmin and tucked it under the blankets. 

“I did try to look for them, Seokmin. I found them. It went the same way as it did when I was eight years old. They didn’t want me” 

You never told anyone about that, it wasn’t the kind of thing that you liked to talk about. To be honest you didn’t even like to think about it. 

A week before you moved in with Seokmin you searched for your parents. With Jun’s help, you managed to find them, quite easily. They still lived in the city, in the same house you lived in for the first eight years of your life. All it really took to get a hold of them was to find the documents they filled when they left you in the foster house. Your meeting with them didn’t last long, less than five minutes and they didn’t even invite you in. All the conversation was done at their doorstep. “We can’t do anything for you, we’re not parent material,” they said to which you answered, “I’m no longer a kid who needs care and protection”. 

For them to suddenly find their inner parent wasn’t something that you wanted or expected but you thought that they could, at least, be part of your life but even that they refused. They only showed some kind of interest when you mentioned Seokmin and just by looking at them, you could tell that their interest was more on what Seokmin brought with him than for you. 

After that you never mentioned them again, never allowed Jun to talk about it again, not even thinking about them was allowed. 

“Just because people bond doesn’t mean they become good people, Seokmin. It just means that there’s someone out there who won’t judge your choices” 

“Babe…” 

Seokmin crawled on the bed towards you, his arms going around you and tangled his legs with yours. 

You stayed quiet for a while, unmoving. That was your favorite place in the world, his arms. Even if you had just some kind of argument with him, even if you were hurt by what the other person said, you never turned your back on each other. 

“I’m afraid if I let them in again the same thing will happen. I can’t go through that again” 

You turned in his arms, facing him. 

“They were probably just afraid Seokmin, the things people say about Memorous aren’t nice. Maybe they were just afraid to lose their son. Your sister did sound really sorry on the phone” you ran your hand on his cheek “You’re thirty years old, the feelings you had at eighteen are not the same and you certainly are not the same person. Maybe we could try talking to them, and if it doesn't work, it doesn’t” 

“Thank you for reminding me that I’m old” 

You giggled against his chest, which made Seokmin kiss the top of your head. 

“You’ll only be old when our kids kids go to college” 

Something in Seokmin’s eyes changed, all the anger and laughter from just a second before suddenly disappeared. He rolled on the bed, so he was on top of you. 

“Are we talking babies now?” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed your way up from his collarbone to his lips. 

“You’ve been lacking in that department lately, husband” 

He pulled your hands away from his neck and presses it against the mattress. 

“I’ll be sure to make it up to you, wife” 

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @uniq-tastic, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @@scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @cinnamongirl127, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @shuabby, @slut4donghyuck, @manutuankim

if you were tagged, please consider reblogging. likes and comments are also always welcomed

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

thank you for reading

[offt0wonderland]

The Runaways

Imagine: You're a Soc, enjoying a movie at the drive-in with your friend, when the same Greasers you ran into earlier barge inside the automobile.

The Outsiders x fem OC

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: A young Soc finds herself thrown into a loop once she befriends Pony and his family.

“What did I miss in History?”

Deborah strengthened her fingers around the condensing cup, the two of us pressed closely together while the temperature gradually dropped outside the passion pit. “A load of Crock – I don’t think Mr. Jones knows what he’s talking about,” The corners of her mouth pursed, a bland giveaway that she was transported back in thought from my missed lecture. “I remember he said something about the Battle of Midway and how we were lucky to have won … but when I talked to my dad, he said that the reason we defeated the other ships was because of willpower and strength.”

“Wait, so how does that make Mr. Jones the one full of Crock?” I shifted my head closer to my friend, allowing the temple of my forehead to press against the bone of her shoulder.

Deborah soon readjusted to my movements; her head now stuck against the headrest of the driver seat to keep her eyes on the motion picture that began to play in front of our eyes. “I’m trusting my dad – who fought in the war – as opposed to the teacher who didn’t.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” The both of us briskly fell quiet after my agreement, letting the noise from Sound of Music fill the silence that lingered between us. It was a movie we’d both seen a few weeks prior, but we didn’t mind the repetition, the drive-in was something we both seemed to enjoy on our off time.

Honestly, I don’t think we’d ever get old of this place.

Well, except for the backseat bingo. Now that was revolting. It was like every automobile around us showcased couples engulfed by each other’s mouths, the film of their windows fogged up to display the sweat that radiated off their movements. I tried my best to ignore them, combine Razzles and Popcorn into my mouth as I observed Julie Andrews on screen, but the hathos was too compelling: they were sickeningly captivating.

It was like every time my irises fell onto the giant screen in front, they somehow found their way to the car next to me. In the span of three minutes, I found myself watching the older couple in nothing but a button-down and a bra. From the looks of it, they seemed to be in their mid-twenties, but by their hormones, they appeared closer to teenagers. Frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them ripped the other’s skin off with how aggressive they tugged on each other’s bodies.

It was nauseating – or more accurately, it reminded me of Charles and his consistently grabby hands. One of the many reasons we broke our steady off.

I continued to observe the people around us, noting every time they disappeared in the cushions of their seats; But for some reason, the one thing that redirected my attention was three boys coming into view. The middle Greaser had the same leather jacket I saw before, his arms wrapped around both of his friends as if he was ready to guide them to mischief. The other two seemed to follow that minuscule action, willing to put themselves in trouble to keep their delinquent acquaintance.

“Get out of the way!” And it appeared that disturbance wasn’t too far behind.

Dally pressed the end of the cancer stick between his teeth; the outline of his middle finger raised in front of the illuminated backdrop. Pony chuckled at his friend’s insult, making eye contact with the battered boy across from him in glee. And in all honesty, I probably would’ve laughed too, only all that commotion made them closer to our car. My eyes widened at that revelation, my body involuntarily shifting downwards in hopes they wouldn’t notice. But with all the other windows coated with steam, we were bound to be noticed.

Dally was the first of the group to make a reaction; his lips tugged into a smirk, the pads of his fingertips yanking the poor boys behind him in the new direction he was set in. It was the response I feared the most – he was coming over. So, I made a countermove; I bent over the edge of my seat, tugging on the locks of the automobile to create a barrier.

“Val, what are you doing?” Deborah questioned.

“Lock the doors on your side.” I said.

“What?”

“Lock the doors on your side!” But before she even had a chance, the three Greasers had found themselves inside the same confinement we were in. And I was pissed.

“Ohh, this is nice,” Dally straightened his legs, leaning his body back against the cushion of the seats as if he was already welcomed into the Socs car. “Didn’t know girls could own such nice autos.”

I turned around to face the lot of them. “What are y’all doin’?”

“Needed a place to sit, the chairs outside are somehow all taken.” Ugh, his arrogance was worse than the couple making out next to us.

“Get out of my car,” Deborah was firm. “I don’t want any grease on these girly leather seats.”

“Dal’ let’s just go.” The anxious boy who was drowned in denim finally spoke up, pulling on his friend’s arm to get him to budge – but it appeared he wasn’t going to oblige to his buddy like last time.

“Dally, I swear, I’ll grab …” The slur of words were quick to come to a halt once my eyes fell upon the boy on the right. It was like I was staring at him for the first time, witnessing the fresh scar that aligned symmetrically on his cheek and temple. And by the rounds of his black irises, I could tell he feared my statement … he feared a Soc. “Just get lost.”

Dally, of course, ignored my blatant pleas and focused on the bag of candies that glowed against the console. “Razzles, my favorite.” The Greaser reached forward, stuffing his dirty hands into the freshly opened bag of Blaze’n Blueberry.

Yup, not touching those anymore.

“Val, you know these guys?” Deborah was mortified that I even knew a name out of the bunch.

I shook my head. “Just Pony, he’s in my English class.”

Now that statement earned a gasp. My friend spun around; her eyes glazed over as she peered at the young Greaser on the left side of her automobile. “You’re in Mr. Syme’s class too?! I love that guy – like in love with that guy … Does he ever mention me? Val here won’t tell me a thing.”

“That’s because you’re going steady with Gerald.”

She waved that comment off, a sense of betrayal looming off of her – which, if I had to guess, was probably due to Gerald’s constant gawking at Cherry Valence. Pony uncomfortably shifted against the leather; unsure what words were the right ones in this situation. “Uh, I don’t think so, but maybe once.”

Deborah couldn’t help but let out a squeal from Pony’s response, the back of her hand now sharply pressed to her forehead as if she was going to faint. Dally grinned at the dramatics, finding humor in the odd conversation that was stricken up. “Y’know what, I’ll make a deal,” I swiveled my head in her direction, widening my eyes in horror. She wouldn’t dare. “If you press Mr. Syme about me, y’all can stay … but only if y’all don’t go ape.”

And she did.

Two of them nodded in unison, shuffling their weight to get comfortable in the small car they deemed necessary to infiltrate. I rolled my eyes at her ultimatum, appalled that she’d be so willing to let a group of Greasers stay in the backseat of her Mustang: But it wasn’t my auto, meaning I had no say. The five of us quickly went back to quietude, watching the flick in front of us; at least until the smell of smoke permeated the air. “Look, if y’all are going to stay, no smoking.”  

“You don’t like smoke?” Dally smirked at my statement, almost as if he had found his new weapon of choice.

“I don’t – so quit it.”

Dally grunted, leaning forward to release a cloud of smoke near my jawline. I immediately balled up my fist, ready to thrust all my power into the crook of his nose, except I held back. All I did was wave away the pollution, turning my head slightly until my skin hovered near the tip of the cigarette. “You stay, our rules.”

“I’m sick of rules,” I dragged my tongue across my lower lip, fighting every urge in me to jump the boy in the backseat. “It seems as though you are too, though.”

“What does that mean?” I spat.

“You went to the wrong side of town, and not many Socs are caught dead on our street.” Deborah gasped at Dally’s retaliation, her head snapping in my direction.

“That’s why you cut class? You were at the Grease Lot?” Her voice was raised, almost loud enough for the rest of the parked cars to hear.

I shot her a look. “If you’re going to act this way – dense – then get out of the car.”

“I’m liking this anger, maybe we can ball like the two over there.” Dally nodded over at the couple who had found themselves fully naked, the movements of their car forming a grotesque image in my brain.

“Oh bug out.”

Dally was about to retort something back, but the boy in denim put his arm out to silence him. “Dal’ leave it be.” His voice wavered slightly, like he wasn’t used to standing up to the man in the middle.

Yet, the coldness of his eyes never disappeared.

I turned my body, peering over at the tan boy who stared back. “Y’know, I like you. What’s your name?”

“Johnny Cade.”

Read the first two chapters here: The Runaways | Quotev

[noteveryoneis]

Grocery shopping with three kids is like balancing a goldfish’s bowl on your head — impossible and always ending in disaster.

Especially when one of them is a little girl with ADHD and who is going through her teenage rebellion at eight years old. Ava has already lost sight of Nina five times in the span of thirty minutes, no matter how many times she has asked her to stay with them and not get lost. Every time she finds her, the little girl just rolls her eyes and mutters ‘ugh’ like Ava is just the most annoying bitch on Earth — at least she hasn’t said it yet, she still has some respect left for her mother.

‘Dad would have let me have it,’ Ava hears after she tells her to put back the Laffy Taffy she tried to add to the cart.

Ava clenches her teeth, doesn’t say anything (of course her dad would have let her have it, as he doesn’t care about her, about her sisters, about what they eat and who they are and if they are loved), but she sees the way Neves looks up at her quietly, as if her five year old brain can sense that her mother has just been hit in the chest by an invisible arrow, and Nova’s grip on the shopping cart tightens, like she is doing everything in her power not to smack her little sister with one of the pool noodles on display.

Still, Ava makes the most of it. She makes whooshing noises as she turns the cart, drops kisses on Neves’ nose from time to time where she is sitting in the child seat, helps Nova choose the best pens and even lets Nina get the Barbie notebook she really wanted. 

She’s mentally doing the math of how much they’ll need and if she can add a bottle of her pain meds to the list when she hears the voice behind her.

“My my my, as I live and breathe, if that isn’t Ava Silva.”

Her first reflex is to grip the cart like it’s going to float away, muscles locked up. She's been hearing that so much lately, the snarls and mocking chuckles from everyone who knew her from before — and from now, Ava Silva who left her shiny little city after being kicked out like a dog by the father of her kids and came back with her tail in between her legs to her hometown (when in reality Ava is working her ass off so that her girls can go to school and live in a real house where they each have their own rooms and where they can go to the beach every weekend and she loves it).

But then she recognizes the hoarseness of the voice and the way it sounds like a warm smile — or like coming home. And so Ava whirls around, only to be met by the sight of none other than Mary freaking Masters, grinning down at her.

People have had a lot of different reactions at Ava’s return. Camila blew up her phone at the first text Ava sent announcing her move, Lilith tried to stare her down, Mrs. Salvius smiled at her and wished her a warm welcome back, Duretti almost kicked her out of the school and Superion announced loudly that she was praying Nova wasn’t anything like her mother — fondly and teasingly too, Superion was a softie even though she claimed the opposite.

But being picked up and hugged tightly? A first.

Mary’s laugh echoes in her ear as Ava hugs her back, grinning like an idiot.

“Jesus, kid, I heard you were back and town and I didn’t believe it, but you’re actually here!”

Mary sets her back down on the ground, smiling at her (the only thing stopping her from ruffling Ava’s hair is probably the fact that she’s a grown woman of twenty-eight-years old).

“Yeah, I am, moved back three weeks ago. Glad to know news still travel fast around here.”

“You know it,” Mary laughs, like she just knows how much the residents of their hometown love talking back behind each other’s backs.

All three of the girls are still staring at the two of them in silence from the cart, big eyes open as if wondering who the fuck this woman is.

“Right, sorry,” Ava laughs, taking a step back and putting a hand on Nina’s shoulder, the other setting on Neves’ back, leaving it to Nova to decide whether or not she wants to hide behind her mother — she doesn’t, looking curiously at Mary as if trying to remember her. “Girls, this is Mary, Nova’s godmother. Mary, well, you already know them.”

They all greet her in a concert of little ‘hi’s as Mary smiles back at them. 

“You guys have grown,” she whistles, raising an impressed eyebrow — right, she hasn’t seen them since Neves’ birth. “Especially you,” she tells Nova, “Jesus Christ, you’re tall, kid.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Nova frowns.

“Most people here haven’t seen you since you were a baby,” Ava reminds her.

“Yes, but what else am I supposed to be but taller? Of course I am, I’ve grown!” Nova says, raising her hands to the sky. “And what if I have had dwarfism? What would you guys have said?”

“No’, you don’t have dwarfism,” Ava says.

“But I could have!”

Ava throws in the towel at that one, turning back towards Mary who is raising an eyebrow with a shit-eating grin.

“Cute kid.”

“Thanks,” Nina grins because of course she does, flipping her hair back to make her sisters laugh (and it works).

“Oh, I just know which one of you has the Silva genes,” Mary says, pointing a finger at her, clearly amused.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Ava stops her. “The tale of mama’s adventures will have to wait,” she says, redirecting Nina towards the cart and ushering Nova back to her sisters.

Mary smiles back at her, really smiles, not just one of those uptight fake smiles that Ava has been receiving since her move back here — except for Teacher-Hot-Neighbor Beatrice whose smiles always look timid and hesitant, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to do that, and Camila who is just genuinely a ray of sunshine.

“Shannon has been talking about you,” she says, softly and a little more seriously. “She’s been wondering where you and the girls were at, she’s going to be happy to know you’re all so close.”

She doesn’t ask about JC, like she already knows, or maybe she had seen it coming, like they all did. Ava smiles back, not knowing what to say.

“You know I have to invite you all to our house for dinner now, right? The wife wouldn’t let me live if I didn’t.”

“You have a wife?” Nina asks, her head poking out from behind Ava’s hip, tiny fingers hooking into the loop of her shorts.

“She’s Neves’ godmother, come on, you guys know that,” Ava explains, frowning.

They’ve met them five years ago — okay, Nina was three and probably doesn’t remember it, and Nova was six and already didn’t like talking to people (which annoyed JC greatly and made her miserable). All things considered, she doesn’t blame them for not remembering Shannon and Mary.

“Yup, I have a wife,” Mary says instead, not missing a beat as she shows her wedding ring. “She’ll want to meet you guys as soon as I tell her about you.”

“Are you gay?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ava intervenes immediately, shoving the shopping list into Nova’s hand. “Take your sister around, don’t get lost and, Antonina, please stop asking questions about people’s sexualities.”

Mary is laughing her ass off as the two little girls scamper away, Neves kicking her little legs from her child seat, smiling slightly to herself. Ava sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stop herself from laughing too. Now she understands everyone’s suffering from when she was younger, karma is a bitch. 

“I’m serious,” Mary says after a few seconds of laughing like a madman. “We’re throwing a cookout next sunday, you have to come. And bring your comedian kid with you, I like her,” she says, like Nina is a shiny new toy (Ava can already feel the headache coming just thinking about how much chaos the two will bring together).

“I’m… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Nah, you know I don’t take no for an answer. Seriously, Ava, come. Shannon will be thrilled to see you. We’ve missed you, kid.”

Neves tugs on her shirt, Ava picks her up and sets her on her hip, putting a kiss on her hair and letting the anxiety melt away as the girl wraps her arms around her shoulders.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll come.”

Mary smiles again, Ava feels a bit warmer already.

[dingbatnix]

Tank

I had an idea like last minute before bed and stayed up way, wayyyy to late to get it all down. Anyway, enjoy!

Dream had been kicked out of his colony

He knew he could be a bit of a prick sometimes, and sometimes he got too lost in the moment and went overboard, but he couldn't help it!

His higher thought would go on the back burner, and he'd just be in the moment.

He knew he deserved to be kicked out, though. It was his fault the kid was dead, after all.

He'd just been teasing the teenager a little bit, and maybe he went to far, kept at it for too many weeks

But one day the kid had just ran off

Next he knew, they were getting news that the teen had been snatched up by one of the humans living in the apartment complex, and that the colony had to move.

Not Dream, though. He was forced to stay, because it was his fault the kid had run off, and his death was on Dream's hands.

The colony didn't want a murderer in their midst, even if it was an unintentional one

Dream could survive just fine on his own, of course, but the loneliness was drowning him in a cesspit of regret and loathing and the longing for any sort of company.

He just wished that he had somebody to talk to.

°°°°°°

So when Tommy hears his human, Wilbur, shout out, 'gotcha,' and a small, terrified scream, you know he's running in the bean's direction

He's not afraid of Wilbur hurting the other borrower

But he doesn't want the new guy to have a heart attack

When he gets to the kitchen, he tells Wilbur to let him say hello

But when he sees who the human's holding, his body shuts down

It's Dream, the man who tormented him for months

The bastard had made Tommy want to die, and eventually the teen had run off and been caught by Wilbur, who was pretty good, for a human

Tommy freaks, and Dream is both terrified of the bean and amazed that Tommy's still alive

But Tommy tells Wilbur that, 'that's the guy that–that messed with my head, I don't, keep him away! Lock him up or something"

So Wilbur puts Dream in a terrarium

Where Tommy convinces Wilbur that Dream's an absolute bastard and would kill them both if he had the chance

So Wilbur grows contemptful of Dream and hates him for what Tommy told him he did

So he kinda sorta neglects the other borrower

So Dream is a little more than starved, and definitely stuck in the tank

And he grows much weaker than he was

It doesn't take long for a borrower to grow weak from starvation

Less than the human standard of three weeks, but more than the mouse standard of two days

About a week, probably

Wilbur still puts food in the tank for him, of course

But sometimes he's away for trips

One such trip he can't bring Tommy with him (he usually does, cause he doesn’t want to leave the teen alone with Dream)

So he leaves him at his apartment

He forgets to leave enough food in the tank for Dream though, in the rush to leave

And his trip will take about two weeks

Sometimes Tommy will come by to gloat and just talk to Dream during this span of time

And he does notice that Dream seems to be getting thinner and weaker

But he doesn't think much of it until the day that he finds Dream slumped on the ground of the tank, against the glass wall, breathing weakly

He asks what's wrong, because despite his hate for the man, he isn't cruel, doesn't want to actually hurt him

So Dream avoids the question by telling the teen that he's sorry for what he did to him

That he didn't mean to go so far, but sometimes he just lost himself in the actions and forgot basic decency, that it was entirely Dream's fault and he doesn't want the teen to think any of it was his own fault

And Tommy asks him why now, why apologize now, you could've done that weeks ago

And Dream tells Tommy that he's going to die, that he only has two, maybe one day left.

And Tommy freaks out, really looking at the man closely

The other borrower is stick thin, and his clothes are so baggy on him they look like they might fall off at any moment

Tommy demands to know what's going on, so Dream wearily tells the teen that he was starving to death. That the human (Wilbur) hadn't left him anything to eat like he usually would before he left on his long trip

With a horrifying realization, Tommy understood

That was five days ago. Dream hadn't eaten in five days. That was practically a death sentence for a borrower, because once you went past that half week mark, you would probably be too weak to scavenge for food.

That's why they lived in colonies, as double insurance to stay alive and could provide help if someone needed it.

He tries to get the older borrower to say anything else, but he had evidently passed out

Panicking, Tommy scaled down the table, across the living room into the kitchen, and up the counter to a spread of non-perishables like crackers that Wilbur left out for him

Grabs one, and makes his way all the way back to the tank. It doesn't take him long to climb into the tank, the lid is open and his hook line makes it easy

He drops down inside, pulling in his hook with him and runs his way over to Dream

He can't let the other borrower die

He just can't, especially when the man’s supposed last words wore an apology to Tommy

Tommy tries to get Dream to eat the cracker chunks he brought, but the man is practically unresponsive

It takes a thin cracker-water mash (he'd had the water in a tiny flask he carried in his bag, some tinfoil mad a bowl) to bring motion to Dream, who's eyes flicker open to land on Tommy, then the cracker-water

He turns his head away, telling Tommy not to bother

But the teen convinces Dream to eat more of it until Dream turns away again, this time telling Tommy that he'll get really sick if he eats anything more

Tommy doesn't like it, cause Dream hardly ate anything, but acquiesces nonetheless

For the rest of the week, until Wilbur comes back, Tommy brings Dream food several times a day

Dream gets better, during this time, but he's still way too thin under his clothes and still can't walk very far

When Wilbur gets back Tommy tells him to let Dream go

He has realized that what he had been doing to Dream (by proxy of Wilbur) was wrong, and that he can't do that to the man anymore

Wilbur, meanwhile, feels awful about forgetting to leave Dream any food before he left and nearly killing him

He does as Tommy says, and lets Dream down next to a wall exit

Dream stumbles through it, and while both borrower and bean are worried about the state of the other borrower when he left, the obvious desire to get away from both of them was plain in Dream’s voice and posture

It's not even four days later that Tommy finds Dream collapsed in one of the many walkways inside of the walls, looking worse than he did when he was let go

He tries to wake the older borrower up, but nothing he does works

Dream looks thin again, too which scares Tommy

Taglist that I forgor:

He drags to taller man out to Wilbur, who immediately tries to wake Dream up as well, no dice

They make a thin broth for the comatose borrower, and Tommy carefully pours a little bit into Dream's mouth (presently aware of what Dream had told him was 'refeeding syndrome,' during the week that Tommy had been bringing him food (a human term) hoping to rejuvenate the man a little

It doesn't, but Wilbur tells him to give Dream a little more in about fifteen minutes, and, "how fast are your metabolism, Tommy?"

Tommy doesn't know, but after about an hour Dream rouses a little bit

He freaks, at first, seeing Tommy and, more importantly, Wilbur again

But they both explain what happened.

Tommy tells Dream that he can't leave until he's back to one hundred percent again, so he won't die, and Wilbur agrees

"You're not—" Dream winces uncertainly, baring his teeth in a fearful grimace. "You're not going to stick me back in the tank, a—are you?"

They don't, and they let Dream recover all of his strength after several months

They bond over that time, and Tommy forgives Dream

Dream loses the majority of his fear of Wilbur, too, along the way, and they grow to be good acquaintances

If Dream ever starts to go to far with anything he says or does, a heavy word or a parting hand from a human—Wilbur—will easily snap Dream back into reality

While the older borrower is a bit reclusive, he hangs out quite a lot with Tommy and, to a lesser extent, Wilbur (even though the human still scares him sometimes).

He was very social, after all, before he got kicked out of his colony

@i-am-beckyu @brick-a-doodle-do @kayla-crazy-stuffs

[justalittleobsessedhere]

Charlie is Best When He Trusts His Gut

I’m rewatching heartstopper (again) with a focus on Charlie. I love this kid for the confidence with which he approaches his relationship with Nick. His gut reaction is almost always right and he starts to back away when he lets himself or his friends talk him out of what he has personally experienced with Nick. The update from the graphic novel to the screen really takes time to explore this.

There is something between Nick and Charlie by the end of the first episode, and Charlie — not Nick like in the novel— initiates the what turns into their extensive DM exchanges. And he does it with flair with a subtle X after his thank you. Also, in the novel, Nick was the first to send a heart, but in the show, Charlie reads the conversation right and sends it first — at the end of their first DM exchange.

The biggest moment for me is when Charlie has the confidence to ask Nick if he’d ever kiss him. At this point, Charlie has been hit with a barrage of outsider opinions (mostly unrequested) that Nick is unquestionably straight and he is wasting his time crushing on him. Elle, Tao, Isaac, the rugby team — all of them insist Nick is a hetero teenage boy with current crushes on girls. When Charlie tries to share his personal observations that could speak to the contrary, he is told he is wrong. There is literally an intervention to talk him out of his crush.

Despite all this noise, Charlie takes in everything he knows and sees from Nick. He has a sneaking suspicion there might something between them. He’s trusting the increasingly intimate physical contact, the uptick in time spent together, the lingering looks between them — all clear signs to even a casual observer. Yet, people with no personal engagement with these experiences are not giving the person in this situation the respect to trust his own judgment.

Still, for a person who has shown a regular tendency (even in a two-minute span) to talk himself out of a thought, when the opportunity presents itself, Charlie goes for it. How much bravery it takes to turn off the outside voices telling you that you are wrong. Charlie had to react to everything Nick was telling him as it was happening. With no time to process and overthink, he goes for not just one, but two kisses, encouraged by Nick grasping his hand after the first.

The shift in the show from making Charlie popular to “practically an outcast” further bolsters Charlie’s self-doubt and distrust in his gut reaction. We see this at other times (suggesting they go on a date by themselves, asking if they’re boyfriends, inviting Nick over to his house without a specific reason, inviting him to his birthday), and Charlie manages to backtrack before anyone has had a chance to say a word. But he was right. Nick was into each of these ideas.

The value of a relationship with someone you trust is you learn to listen to your own judgment no matter how loud the voices around you are screaming.

He really likes you, Charlie!

[fuck-customers]

I talked about my ordeals with who I dubbed Stalker Boy a while back, since I still don't know his last name (it took me about 6 months to find out his first name, since he decided to start stalking me at work after seeing me there once) but this isn't about him lol.

This time, the stalker wasn't here for me, he was after my coworker I'll call C. For context, C is barely 19 and tiny, and generally looks even younger than she is.

Well a couple weeks ago (the week after Mario came out), she was walking around in the back with a manager doing whatever, and this guy, who was about 40, and also roughly 6ft 5, was following them. After a while, the manager stepped away and the guy used the opportunity to corner C. And you'll never guess what he says.

Creep: "Hey, I think you're really attractive. How much would I have to pay you to have sex with me?"

C ended up kinda staring at him and saying "I can't disclose that information" because she didn't know what else to do.

Luckily the manager who'd walked away got a bad feeling and came to get her. C filled in the manager but the guy had disappeared, so they had C shut herself in the break room (where I was on my lunch) until they could find him and remove him from the building.

After I come back from lunch, I go back to working door (taking tickets), and keep my eye out for the creep, which was hard because I never actually saw him.

(Seriously dude, I have a lot of respect for sex workers, but what the fuck makes for think that's an appropriate conversion starter, let alone using it on a teenager half your age and size that you cornered while she's sweeping up popcorn???)

Fast forward a couple days. We had what I was told was a glitch, but I think was actually human error, but we ended up having three shows, in the span of roughly an hour, for Mario where two shows had been created for each time slot in the same room. So it was crazy busy since they sold out and twice as many people showed up as expected. And since there were two tickets per seat, we had to implement system for explaining what was going on to people as they come in and establishing who gets the seat and who gets a refund, and it was just a huge mess. One of the shows, the first one that was double booked, had 250 seats, meaning there were 500 people there for it. And guess who decided to use the confusion to sneak back in.

So I finally managed to get to the end of the line, but the managers were still at the service desk trying to do refunds, and I hear one of the newer girls radio about a creepy guy who was standing inside the doors to the auditoriums and just staring. I'll call her N. N, like me, is butch, and I'm not sure if Creeper realized she's a woman, or if he was just only interested in C. Here's a helpful artistic rendering of what N was seeing.

(Not pictured: being in shadows because he was standing in a dark room)

At this point, we had no way of knowing that it was the same guy, but she kind of walked away, and when she came back a few minutes later, he was still there, though he later started moving to other auditoriums and doing the same thing. C was actually there that day but was on lunch.

So N was radio'ing about needing help dealing with a weird guy who's movie-hopping, and she said he was getting really aggressive when she asked him what he was doing. The managers kind of just waved N off (over the radio), saying that they were busy, and told her to deal with it the best she could. I was getting bad vibes, so I walked over to tell the managers directly that they need to go help N. I'm working the front door so I'm not actually allowed to leave the little area, but luckily, the service desk is right on the edge of my area.

And one of the managers snapped at me as soon as I got two words out and said "We're we're with customers, you know better than to interrupt". Which, they're right. I've worked here longer than both of them combined. I know damn well how things work and I follow the rules, so if I'm suddenly not doing that, it's because I have a fucking reason, m'kay?

N managed to summon enough guys from the cleaning crew to help her herd the guy to the front, at which point the manager who'd kicked Creeper out last time recognized him and realized how serious it was (she's not the one that snapped at me) and she kicked him out again.

Because I don't know why this guy would be hiding in dark rooms and watching and waiting, unless he was waiting for C to walk by so he could do god knows what to her.

And then about 10 minutes later, one of the managers who snapped at me came over and was like "did they tell you about The Guy?" And I just stared at him and said "*I* was trying to tell *you* about The Guy, and you told me to go away." And he didn't say sorry or anything, which is what I expected.

And then apparently Creeper came back two more times later in the week on days I wasn't there and on the fourth time, the manager had finally decided enough was enough and called the cops and he ended up getting arrested. So I hope that's the last we'll see of him but I'm not going to hold my breath.

[conqueeruu]

Sunny: OMORI fanart for "Silhouette of a Wilted Flower" by SunnyBunflower on Wattpad!

Jesus this is so many variations my bad it's just that hhhhhhhhhhhhh I want you to be able to see the actual picture and have realistic, intentional lighting.. the first two are just for the aesthetics though, they look good though.

Time: 52 minutes and 53 minutes FUCK.

Artist: conqueeruu (GUESS WHO🤞🏼🤞🏼)

Start: April 19, 2023 (5:56 PM) GOD DAMN.

End: October 9, 2023 (12:30 PM) .......... ok

53 HOURS. AND OVER THE SPAN OF ABOUT 6 MONTHS. I guess worth it considering I actually didn't work on this thing for a good what.. 3-4 months.. ANYWAYS.

GUYS IF YOU LOVE OR LIKE THE OMORI SHIP SUNFLOWER, I HEAVILY RECOMMENDED CHECKING OUT AND READING FICS WRITTEN BY @SunnyBunflower ON WATTPAD!!!!! THEY'RE REALLY GOOD, THEY'RE LONG, AND THE PLOT'S ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!! Their book "Silhouette of a Wilted Flower" IS SO GOOD. I won't spoil anything but during a couple chapters Basil and Sunny are somewhere and Sunny is just.. looking at him. Basil repeats "Why's Sunny giving me that look?", "Seriously.. why is Sunny looking at me like that.?", or "Sunny's staring at me.. why like that? I hope I didn't do anything.." over and over during the times they (Basil) makes eye contact. When they aren't talking to someone or when attention is diverted away from Basil, Sunny's always already looking at Basil.

I feel like Sunny, a greasy, unkept teenager looking at the accomplice after 4 YEARS. Would be 1, unsettling, 2, it would just be kinda a gaping look, and 3, he's in his head a lot and there's 2 (headspace Basil and stranger, he just doesn't know it in this point of the story that stranger is Basil) versions of basil he's used to seeing, not real world Basil so I could sense confusion in that look, BUT, because he genuinely hasn't seen sunlight in 1460 days or more, he wouldn't have a grasp on how confusion is supposed to look on a teenager who is in control of their own facial expressions and how to properly react. it's not like he's practicing stuff either so he just would kinda.. look.. at real world Basil. That's why he looks like that lmao. I also feel like Sunny has been sheltered a lot. I can and most likely will make a separate rant on Sunny himself and how I feel like the reality and logistics of his life have affected him internally and physically.

Sunny wakes up from his sleep from Basis panic attack, this man decided to LOOM over him like a big bad guy pushed him into corner and is just about to beat the shit outta him (he doesn't actually do this in the story guys), and STARE AT HIS ACCOMPLICE OF A "BEST FRIEND" AND LOOKS AT HIM, MID PANIC ATTACK BRO💀💀

Alright here's the speed paint LMAO😭

[serenityrade]

No reason to treat a muse with indifference. Her words meant she suffered like me; so I kept my asks on. I played anonymity's library; disgusting, disappointing, forgettable; ugly, — music singing, 'they want you dead♫♪'.

A lot of pain... but,

...anyone who's anyone is gone, now.

She missed a year; silence is easier, lately. Things erode... so... ignore or block, it's not so bad, ...

...and now, she writes lazily; lounging with her weed, booze: — her Effexor, soma galore.

By June 2016, she'd gladly beat me to death; but still, there was sustained life for a while... where two minutes' wait was just intolerable loneliness.

--

Michael... beloved by evil souls, my Hatchetman; Michael.

Mid-2016, he was an unemployed drunk; then, he gossiped together with Jayne; after I sent him by. I just didn't want to believe it.

Born in '85, he met mine former love as a teen. He abused her until she slept away ~140 hours a week, wasting from depression.

He still nearly killed himself when she left. He said (off his face on booze) he'd use helium, if I didn't intercede for him.

He was once a writing tutor for the poor; a good man: my friend, yes... before the fall. He became Hatchetman after. Are you really one to talk? Your teenage years, Mars.

--

First quarter 2019. Silence meant your torrential rage. Later, on your arrival in 2019, I awoke to you banging my door. Cops were dialed...

— but you cried on the floor to your best friend. You were deeply afraid: of being a slave, in the dark, yet also of me holding a chopstick, even.

If I offered no address? Good. You hit me with a wrong address, later.

--

You flashed into vision briefly after your apology.

I would say I am sick, tired, — and busy. 「Touch grass」, you'd say. Later, it was just accusations.

I gave advice and companionship until I was tired. I believed you 「married into celebrity」, even...

--

Well. Happy 31st, March.. (belatedly).

Firstly, autists have feelings, too! — and 'aspie', 'robot'; -> slurs! Be nice in public, I say sternly. Jayne is one (epic borderliner), Ms. Sheehan. Be kind and like her, honour her.

Secondly, anti->sausejī hate? — but y'alls love gay stuff, one thought...

--

Mars' dislike of autistic people is insensitive; me too. I wish my loved ones were their ideal weight.

(Jayne is nice about both topics; and gender. ...`slava just jokes about tr*nnies.)

--

Well, there is no 「Jayne Kerr 」 .

--

For all my illness, I had a home to call my own. — In a world where I forgot love, I could be married/martyred; in the span of a word. I am loyal to the past; so... world,

... just give me the worthy 《like lovers, mine enemies》,

.. not, urk — whatever this is..

---

thatsallfromme, — i think.. ・ ～ 💫

[droughtofapathy]

The Gilded Age's Broadway Divas: Dorothy Scott (Audra McDonald)

As Peggy Scott's pianist mother, Dorothy isn't afraid to give her husband a piece of her mind at every opportunity. Though enmeshed in bettering Black society up north, she worries for her daughter's safety down south. As she should.

Here she is boys, here she is world, the one you've all been waiting for. Six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald. *The* Broadway Diva. Our reigning queen. Our legend. Our great soprano. Audra has won more Tony Awards for performance than any other actor, and is the only one to have an award in each of the four competitive categories for which she is eligible (Best Leading Actress in a Play/Musical, Best Featured Actress in a Play/Musical). As such, she is one of three theatre greats to have nominations across said categories: the others being the late greats Jan Maxwell and Angela Lansbury. With ten nominations in total, she is tied with Julie Harris and Chita Rivera for most performance nominations and will certainly surpass them the next time she comes to Broadway.

Audra McDonald's repertoire is so vast that this post became the hardest to narrow down. I have elected to highlight a little of everything: songs from shows that deserve a little more love here on Tumblr, Audra favorites, obscure gems, etc.

#1: "The Glamorous Life," Sondheim's 80th Birthday Celebration (2010)

We have no choice but to start with Sondheim. The third of six performers in the iconic Ladies in Red segment of the Sondheim 80th Birthday Concert, Audra takes on this exquisite A Little Night Music number sung by the teenaged Frederika in the movie version (we don't talk about it).

Among Sondheim standards such as "The Ladies Who Lunch" (Patti LuPone) and "Losing My Mind" (Marin Mazzie), some considered the inclusion of this number a little misplaced. I adore it.

According to the Word of God (Donna Murphy), some of the Ladies in Red were being sewed or even taped into their dresses just minutes before taking the stage.

#2: Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill (2014)

Though this particular show features music throughout and has a phenomenal cast album, it is classified as a "play with music," thus Audra was able to win her multi-record-breaking Tony in 2014. She plays the iconic Billie Holiday in 1959 at the tail end of her career. Here, she performs in a run-down nightclub and grows increasingly drunk and demoralized throughout the evening. It is an incredible piece of both singing and acting.

#3: "As You Make Your Bed," Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny (2007)

Though the costume is something I feel we should all bear witness to, Audra's demonstration of her full operatic range adds another layer of excellence. A Weill and Brecht collaboration, Rise and Fall of the City of Mahogonny was first performed in 1930. This clip is from the 2007 Los Angeles Opera production starring Audra and Patti LuPone. Audra plays Jenny Smith, "a whore." The production was recorded for PBS's Great Productions and won two Grammy Awards.

Truly, is there anything Audra can't do?

#4: "Wheels of a Dream," Ragtime Reunion (2023)

Ragtime. Oh, Ragtime. That we live in a world where Ahrens and Flaherty's magnum opus lost Best Musical to The Lion King is my villain origin story. Natasha Richardson (Cabaret) beating out Marin Mazzie for Leading Actress is something I have to accept, but this? In 1998, Ragtime won Best Book, Best Original Score, Best Orchestrations, and Best Featured Actress for Audra McDonald's glorious Sarah. Sarah is a young woman at the turn of the century who has a baby with Brian Stokes Mitchell's (Broadway's Leading Man) Coalhouse Walker, and is taken in by Mother (Marin Mazzie), an upper-class white woman with no name after she is caught having partially buried the living child in Mother's yard. It is a masterpiece of musical talent with a breathtaking score and story.

This role won Audra her third Tony in the span of five years. Listening to Audra and Stokes reunite may well be the closest you ever get to hearing divinity. I implore you to seek out the full original cast album.

A reunion concert was planned for April 2020, but was postponed until this past year with Kelli O'Hara stepping in for the late Marin Mazzie as Mother. The concert was done as a benefit for the Entertainment Community Fund, and dedicated in memory of Marin, who passed away in 2018 from ovarian cancer, book-writer Terrence McNally who died of COVID complications in 2020 (lung cancer), and director Frank Galati, who died in 2023, also of cancer complications.

#5: Master Class (1995)

Master Class is yet another Terrence McNally work, this one a play depicting a fictionalized master class given by opera singer Maria Callas towards the end of her life. Audra, as Sharon, takes the part of her student, the second soprano. This play won Audra her second Tony, and garnered a Tony for the brilliant leading actress Zoe Caldwell, whom Audra partially named her firstborn child after some years later. Her daughter's middle name is in honor of Audra's other close friend, the late Madeline Kahn, who like Marin Mazzie, died of ovarian cancer at 57, the same age, though many years prior.

LINK TO MASTERPOST

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Hung the Moon (Chapter 4)

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

Pairings: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Jake Lockley x f!Reader (mention)

Summary: You get to know Steven…

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: oral sex, face sitting & face riding, p in v

Word count: 4.7K

A/N: No Y/N. This one is practically all smut. Like is there even a plot anymore? (There is, more to come in the future parts)

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

~~~

A little over two weeks after meeting Steven, you’re at a restaurant waiting for him to arrive for your date. You’re not sure what number this is - you’ve seen him quite a lot over the short time span - but this one is certainly fancier than the others. You’re seated at a table in a trendy, upscale restaurant in Soho. The dining room has an intimate feel to it with long drapes covering the windows and tea lights on every table. You’ve dressed for the occasion, wearing a new dress and heels. You spent more time than you’d like to admit getting ready for Steven tonight.

You’ve seen Steven almost every day since he gave you the tour of campus. You texted him the day after and mentioned that this was your first time in London and you hadn’t gotten to see much. So for your first date he took you sightseeing. He showed you both the quintessential tourist spots as well as gems only a local would know. You walked next to him across a busy town square - he said he was taking you to one of his favorite places in all of London - and you felt like a teenager again wanting to hold his hand but feeling too nervous to. He led you to a bench near the splash fountain where a street performer, dressed and painted in gold from head to toe, sat with his arm extended in front of him. You both sat on the bench for a few minutes, chatting to each other. Steven didn’t explain to you why this spot was a favorite of his, but as you were leaving, he tipped the performer and you thought you saw them exchange a look, though the performer stayed perfectly still. Later, when you were taking in the view on Tower Bridge, he kissed you for the second time. It was a good, proper kiss, like he had been thinking about it for awhile, like he meant it. And when the kiss was over, you grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him more. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

For the second date you asked him to grab a drink with you. You met him at a pub just a couple blocks from where you’re staying, and both of you each nursed one beer though you stayed and talked for hours. He walked you back to your hotel after. In the empty lobby waiting for your elevator, you and Steven wrapped your arms around each other and made out until you were interrupted by another guest’s arrival. You invited Steven up to your room, but he declined, wishing you a good night.

For the third, he invited you to get lunch with him near campus since he had met with his advisor that morning. Afterward, you went back to his place for tea. While Steven was filling the kettle, you noticed, with some amusement, that the sand and ankle restraint had disappeared. You wondered if he had cleaned up because he was planning to have you over. It was odd being here, as if for the first time, as if you hadn’t combed over it not even a month ago. But you occupied yourself with looking over the shelves and the books on them as he fixed the tea. You bent over to look in the tank and told him you liked his fish. He came up to you and said, “I used to just have the one, but I thought he was probably lonely.” As soon as you stood up, he leaned in and kissed you. You didn’t miss a beat, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him back. You and Steven spent the rest of the afternoon dry humping on the couch, fully clothed, but desperately trying to kiss every inch of exposed skin, while your tea, forgotten, cooled on the counter.

Since then, you’ve been over to his a few times to watch a movie after grabbing a bite. Each time you’ve ended up on top of him or underneath him on that damn couch but never further than that.

Being with Steven almost makes you forget what you’re really in London for. You haven’t made much headway with him despite it being easy to get him to talk about archaeology and artifacts. That’s because when you ask him if he’s been to any dig sites, he gets surprisingly tight-lipped. You’re running out of angles to try and losing hope that he’ll be able to help you. But, you’ve told your boss that you’re following a promising lead and asked for more time. Your boss made it clear this is your last chance. You know if you don’t deliver soon, they’ll come for you again. Or worse.

You wish you could ask Jake for some advice, but you haven’t seen him since he brought you to your new hotel and kissed you goodbye at your door. You find yourself checking your phone every chance you get, but he has gone completely silent. This has given you more time with Steven, but you really miss him. You’ve been texting him every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to sleep.

You put away your phone as Steven arrives, rushing over to your table. The apologies start before he’s even close enough for you to hear and they are tumbling out of his mouth by the time he sits down. “I am so, so sorry I’m late. I’m such a wanker. I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“It’s really not a big deal. I haven’t been waiting long.” It’s actually been about 30 minutes, but you’d wait a lot longer for Steven.

“Really?” he asks you, half worried, half hopeful.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I sort of, uh, sort of, just, lost track of time. Oh, that sounds awful. I dunno what to say.”

“Steven, it’s fine, I promise.” Somehow, you get the idea that Marc’s to blame for Steven being late.

He’s still catching his breath when his eyes roam over you. “Oi, you look lovely.” His eyes linger momentarily over the low-cut neckline of your dress.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t look too bad himself. He’s wearing a crisp, black button down and he’s freshly shaved.

He suddenly rises from his seat, saying, “Bollocks, I forgot your flowers.”

He makes as if to go and you stop him, saying, “Steven. Steven, it’s ok. Sit down.”

He does but it still seems like at any moment he’s going to go fetch them. You grin at him and ask in a coquettish voice, “You got me flowers?”

“Yeah, but like a twat I left them back at the flat.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to take me there after dinner to show me,” you say and you give him the eyes.

He blushes, but before he can respond to that your waiter comes by to take your order, and the moment passes.

You have a wonderful dinner, but he seems a bit more nervous than usual. Just little things. You touch his hand while he’s telling a story and he loses his train of thought. You make a suggestive joke and he blushes and stammers a response.

After dinner Steven invites you back to his place…to see the flowers, of course. They’re the first thing you see when he opens the door, right there sitting on the table. It’s a large bouquet of a variety of flowers, overflowing with color.

“I didn’t know what your favorite was, so I got one of each,” Steven tells you. He hangs his coat up by the door.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Should probably get them in some water,” he says absently as he starts to search the kitchen, flowers in hand, opening cabinets. “Now where did those vases go?”

You take off your coat and heels, leaving them by the door. You go up to him and gently turn him toward you, pulling him into a kiss. He drops the flowers on the counter and wraps his arms around your waist. The kiss deepens, your tongues touch and slide over one another. His body bends over yours like it wants to get horizontal.

After the kiss he swallows thickly and seems to be at a loss about what to do next. You take him by the hand and lead him into the rest of the apartment. You’re heading toward the couch, but he stops you. “I was thinking we could, um, try the bed?”

Words fail you. You manage to get out an affirmative, “Mmm. Mmhmm.”

He leads you to the foot of the bed and you stand there in front of each other. You reach up to unbutton his shirt and you look at his face to check if it’s ok. He lets you undo each button and you slide the shirt off his shoulders and he pulls his arms free. You tug his undershirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. You kiss his neck and his chest.

He finds the zipper on your dress and opens it. Then he slides the straps down off your shoulders and your dress slips to the floor. He takes in your body dressed only in your undergarments. You’re wearing a sexy set of shape wear that looks almost like a corset. His face flicks through several expressions ranging from astonishment to lust.

You reach behind you to unhook the top piece and pull it away from your body. Once your bare breasts are exposed, Steven groans, and starts to reach for one but stops himself, looking to you for permission. You take his hand and place it on your breast. “Steven, I want you to touch me,” you tell him.

He kneads your breast with his hand and leans in to kiss you. With your lips on his, you reach for his belt buckle and start to undo it. He abruptly breaks from the kiss, letting go of your tit in the process.

“What? What is it?” you ask.

“It’s just, um,” he starts to say but he doesn’t seem to want to say it. You coax him into it and finally he blurts out, “I’ve been told it’s big…I just thought I should warn you.”

That was so unexpected you’re actually stunned. You can’t figure out how to respond to that and your brain won’t quit focusing on how you’ve started to salivate.

You know you have a huge smile on your face, though, because Steven steps back a little defensively and, with not a small amount of hurt and trepidation, asks you, “What?”

“No, it’s that-” You can’t for the life of you form a coherent thought so you blurt out the first thing. “I’ve been rubbing myself up and down on your massive cock for the past week, I know how big it is.”

“Oh.” He’s a mixture of shock and relief, but that only lasts for a moment before giving way to embarrassment. “Right. That…that makes sense.”

“I have to tell you though,” you say with wicked smile, “you warning me about your size made me wetter than you could know.”

His jaw drops at that and while you have him distracted you gently push him down on the bed. You undo his pants and pull them off over his feet which are still in his socks. You don’t even bother taking his underwear off, instead you shove them down until his cock, semi-hard at this point, is free and you immediately take him in your mouth.

He makes a strangled gasping sound and you pop your head up. “Is this ok?”

He raises his head to look at you. Both eyebrows shoot up and he gives you a “mmhmm” with some vigorous head nodding.

There’s a bead of precum leaking from the tip and you swipe your tongue across it before you go back to worshiping him. He hardens in your mouth which is watering so much that your spit drips down his shaft. You suck and bob and desperately wish you could take him deeper. You think about how you’d like to learn to deep throat on his cock. You only take your mouth off him once - to give his balls some attention, stroking him as you do it - before your greedy mouth returns to taking as much of his cock as you can. You barely register the sounds he’s making - you’re actually not sure whether that’s him or you moaning.

So it takes you a moment to realize he’s gasping out, “Stop! Stop!”

You pull your mouth off him with a pop and ask him what’s wrong. He’s lying there with his eyes squeezed shut and he says, breathless, “I don’t want to cum just yet.”

You watch as he calms himself down. The man is in shambles from the head you gave him and it’s such an amazing feeling, having this effect on him, that you want to find out what else you could do to him to make him react this way. You imagine using the ankle restraint you know he has. Maybe you could overstimulate him or make him beg….

But perhaps that’s better left for another time.

After a minute he sits up. He takes a deep breath and notices his boxer briefs at his thighs. He then sheds the rest of his clothing before turning to you, bliss in his eyes. “That was amazing, in-incredible, really.”

His praise makes you smile.

He picks up your hand and kisses your knuckles. He continues kissing up your arm and asks what you’d like him to do for you.

“I…” You bite your lip. There’s one thing you really want to do, but you just don’t know if he’d be into it.

“Yeah?” He’s still peppering your skin with kisses, and when you don’t answer, he asks you what you want him to do. He asks you again and again until-

It comes out in a rush. “Want-to-ride-your-face.”

You could swear he stops breathing for a moment. His face goes kind of slack and you’re worried you’ve freaked him out or something. You almost tell him to forget it, but he starts nodding.

“Yeah?” you ask him. Your face is scrunched up like you’re not sure he really means it.

But the way he says, “Yeah,” in response, with barely contained desire, dissolves all of your doubt.

He lays back down and you take off your underwear before straddling his face. It’s the first time he’s seen your pussy and it’s a close up. You’re more self-conscious than you though you’d be. But he just moans and pulls you to his mouth. He moves his tongue across your clit and you slap a hand across your mouth because otherwise you’re going to get loud and you don’t want to disturb his neighbors. His tongue and lips feel so good, but you can’t bring yourself to move your hips and you just stay still instead.

After a minute, Steven pushes your hips back enough so he can say, teasingly, “I’m not sure I’d call this riding, love.”

It knocks the breath from you. He immediately puts you back on his face and pushes your hips back and forth to encourage you to hump his face.

You move your hips just a little to start but it takes very little time for you to really get into it. You brace yourself on the bookshelf that acts as a headboard. You swirl your hips and rock them up and down over his mouth, careful not to smother him. On the way up, your clit bumps his nose and you moan from behind your hand. The next time you do it, Steven noses into you while shaking his head ever so slightly from side to side. You have to brace yourself with your other hand too after that. You slide back down to his mouth and his tongue runs over you. You shimmy your hips a bit and then slide up to his nose again. He does the same thing as before, nosing into you. You go back and forth and you can feel yourself start to cum. You try to wriggle off him before cumming, but he holds your thighs in place and finishes you. You’re calling his name by the end of it.

You shift off him, and you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ seems inadequate.

He sits up. His chin is drenched. He licks his lips, and says, “That was, um…you know…I thought…” He licks his lips again. Enthusiastically, he says, “Yeah, good. It was really good. What did you think?”

You huff out a sort of incredulous laugh. Pointing at his chin, you say, still a little breathless, “Yeah, clearly I thought it was good.”

“Hmm?” he says. Then he realizes his face is coated with you. “Right. Let me just go-” he cuts off and heads into the bathroom. He returns with a towel, wiping his face as he comes toward the bed.

The mattress dips as he sits down again. He shyly looks over your body and says, “You’re so bloody gorgeous. I can’t believe you want to be with me.”

Before you can tell him he’s insane, he kisses you and your mind goes blank. Your tongues touch and the passion ignites again. You arch into him and wind your fingers through his hair. It’s all heavy breathing, wet kisses and sighs. He nips at your earlobe and kisses your neck.

“Steven? Earlier you said you didn’t want to cum yet…so, uh, how do you want to cum?”

He pulls back and it looks like he’s considering something. Finally he says, “Let me show you.”

He lays you down and grabs a pillow, situating it under your hips. The pool of ache shifts inside you just from that small tilt in your pelvis and you think, Oh, he’s planning to fuck you deep.

Your whole body tingles in anticipation, and nowhere is that more apparent than your tits. Your nipples get rock hard.

Steven reaches over you to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulls a condom from the drawer and puts it on, his tongue between his teeth as he pays attention to what he’s doing.

It’s a weird sensation, surreal even, because you’ve been fucking Jake without one. It feels wrong that Steven doesn’t know that. But you’re also not sure that it’s any of your business. It’s not like you’re the first person Jake’s ever been with. It kind of seems like something they need to figure out as a system.

All of that is wiped from your mind in the next moment, though, because Steven looks up after he’s rolled the condom over his dick, and notices your erect nipples. A small whine escapes from between his lips before he dips his head down, sucking one of your tits in his mouth. His tongue rolls over the sensitive bud and you arch into him, your pussy clenching, impatient to be filled. He does the same for your other tit and when he lifts his head, the wet of his spit left behind feels cool.

He’s on his knees right between your legs, his hard cock just inches from your wet cunt. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah.”

He grips your hips and pushes forward into you, bit by bit. You have an intrusive thought about grabbing him by the ass and ramming him into you, but you let him do his thing instead.

With your pussy wet and willing, it’s not too long before he’s balls deep in you, and when he is, he leans over top of you, holding himself up by his hands. He reaches down to spread your outer lips apart and he presses his pubic bone right against your clit.

He starts moving his hips, but he doesn’t thrust, exactly. Instead, he sort of rocks and rolls his hips into you. The motion alternately grinds his pubic bone against your clit and presses the head of his dick to your G-spot. Back and forth: clit, G-spot, clit, G-spot. It creates this slow and steady build deep within you. It feels wonderful, but you’re a little worried that it won’t crest.

A bead of sweat drops from his forehead to your neck. His breathing is heavy and his eyes are closed tight in concentration - something about that just makes you feel a rush of affection for him. He moans and it sounds so lovely coming from his lips. Being with him like this fills you up in so many ways. You don’t want to get sentimental right now, but you just can’t help it. You’re falling for Steven, and you’re falling hard.

You wrap your legs around him, the heels of your feet resting on his ass, and you roll and rock your hips with him. He groans and sort of collapses on you, chest to chest, skin to skin. His arms wrap around you underneath, one goes up and cradles the back of your neck, the other goes down to your ass, grabbing as much as he can get into his hand. You didn’t think it possible, but he slips even deeper inside of you, making you whimper.

You thread your fingers through his curls. He kisses your neck, sucking the delicate skin with such need that you’re sure he’s left a mark. He moves over you, kissing you full on the mouth, his lips soft and pliant. You breathe into each other’s mouths as you continue to rock into each other.

You pull his head to the side, exposing his neck and you kiss him there, leaving your mark on him. His lips are about at your ear and you hear him whispering praises in between pants. You’re not even sure he’s aware he’s saying any of it out loud. “…feels like heaven…stay like this forever…so bloody gorgeous…”

He’s completely lost in you. And it’s sort of scary, this feeling, this closeness. It’s terrifying really because it’s so strong. You can’t help but clutch yourself to him, holding on for dear life. Then without warning, that deep feeling that’s been building in you rises up and washes over you. You feel it all over your whole body. You desperately call his name, needy for the reassurance he’s there with you.

“I’m here, love,” he whispers to you. Then he buries his head in the pillow you’re laying on. It muffles his moans but you think you hear your name. His hips jerk into you as he cums.

He catches his breath and rises from you, peeling himself from you where your skin, tacky with sweat, sticks to his. He takes a moment to collect himself then he checks on you, asking, “Are you alright?”

Your face is numb. Your brain has shut down. You can’t find your voice. So you just nod.

You try to lift yourself up to kiss him, but your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t make it all the way. He comes to you instead. You kiss him - not your best kiss, your teeth knock together - but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He looks at you again and now he seems worried. “Is something wrong?”

You still can’t speak. Your eyelids are getting really heavy and they start to close as you shake your head in answer.

Steven says your name. “Hey, hey. You can go to sleep in a minute, love. Let’s get you to the bathroom first.”

He helps you from the bed and guides you into the bathroom. “Help yourself to anything you need,” he tells you. “There’s some towels there.”

Before he goes he pulls off the condom and drops it into the wastebasket. You watch his plump naked ass walk out. Idly you wonder why you’ve never sunk your teeth into it.

You stand there, willing yourself to pull together. It takes longer than you expect but eventually you take care of your needs and clean yourself up.

When you walk out, Steven is sitting on the bed in a pair of sleeping pants. He looks up and gives you way too sheepish of a smile from a man that just destroyed you.

You start to gather your clothes. From the bed he asks, “Do you want something more comfortable?”

“Huh?”

“To sleep in. Don’t think that dress would be too comfortable.”

“You want me to stay the night?”

“Yeah, of course, love,” he says in that lilting sing-song of his.

You think back to the night when you were here with Jake and how you couldn’t fall asleep together in case it wasn’t him when he woke up. What would happen if it wasn’t Steven tomorrow morning? You suppose Marc already knows about you now, so he would likely cover and pretend to be Steven. Could you pretend you don’t notice it’s not? And if it’s Jake, well, as much as you’d like to see him that would be so awkward.

You can’t really raise these objections with Steven because he doesn’t know you know any of it. Fuck, what a mess.

You just have to trust that Steven wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think it would be fine.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

You smile. “Yeah, I’m just still recovering from getting my world rocked by that big dick of yours.”

His eyes go wide and he blushes. You want to make him make this face over and over. “Oooh, cheeky,” he gives you a lighthearted admonishment.

He tosses you one of his T-shirts. It’s soft, worn-in, and smells like him. You climb into bed and cuddle in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and holding you to him. He presses a kiss into your hair and his thumb rubs back and forth, soothingly, where it rests on your stomach. You drift off to sleep right away.

—

In the middle of the night, you’re pulled from your deep slumber when you feel the bed shift. For just a moment you forget where you are, who you’re with. You open your eyes. The glow from the nearly full moon shines through the window and illuminates the bedroom. You’re with Steven, you remind yourself.

You turn to check on him, but you find yourself alone in the bed. The sliding door to the bathroom is partially open and you can hear him talking, but in a hushed voice. You strain to hear what he’s saying.

“What are you doing?” he says, but not to you.

Something isn’t right, though you don’t know what it is yet.

“You don’t even know that much about her. You’re having her sleep over?”

Wait, his accent-

“Steven, man. Nothing came up when I did a background check on her. I mean nothing. She’s lying about who she says she is.”

You can’t see him from where you’re laying. You quietly move on the bed until you can peer into the bathroom. He’s standing at the sink, talking to his reflection. You catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror.

You jerk back because that’s definitely not Steven and it’s not even Jake. You’re now in the flat in the middle of the night, alone, with Marc Spector, the mercenary you’re trying to steal from. The one who is now onto you.

You lay down with your back to the bathroom as before. Marc comes out and you feel the bed dip as he climbs in. You don’t know for sure but it feels as though he’s sitting up, watching you. You keep your eyes closed and focus on trying to control your breathing. You don’t want him to know you’re awake.

After a minute, the bed jostles as he lays down. He keeps to his side of the bed.

You don’t know how long it takes. It could be minutes, it could be an hour, but eventually he falls asleep. For the rest of the night, he doesn’t once roll over and pull you into his embrace. And you don’t sleep at all.

~~~

A/N: Oh, hey, Marc! Chapter 5 coming soon! Are you ready for the angst? (If you want to be tagged, just ask!)

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

[headspace-hotel]

One fantasy author I recently discovered who's works I think manage to avoid falling into the pitfalls of modern fantasy you've been talking about is Frances Hardinge. I could say A LOT of things about her writing (mostly in the vein of SAHDKSGSJSSH MY BRAIN NOW CONTAINS WORDS SHSHAKAHSAKSH), but I'll try to keep it brief! The book of hers I enjoyed most (interestingly and counter to current trends, she doesn't seem to write series - all her books I've read so far have been stand-alone novels) was Deeplight, which was a fantasy/tipping slightly into horror in places book set in this chain of islands, which until a generation ago was in the grip of its gods, these eldritch horror-y beings which demanded sacrifices and tribute and generally terrified everyone. Then, within the span of a year or so, they all mysteriously vanished. The book follows one teenager and his best friend as they *redacted bc spoilers*, but needless to say the very setting asks questions AND THE BOOK ANSWERS THEM LIKE THERE ARE ANSWERS AND OH MAN. What I find special about the writing is firstly the sheer amount of LIFE in every single character - every person you get introduced to is a PERSON - I can't think of a single character that felt like a cardboard cutout. The worldbuilding is also very well thought out both in terms of "I'm going to stick this in because it'll be COOL AS HELL" and also in terms of "well but how would that work then and and how would the society be shaped by this SUPER COOL THING". And the plot. Oh man the plot. It somehow manages to oscillate wildly between which groups look to be "in the right" as the main character finds out new information while never being infodumpy or having so much stuff thrown in at once so you can't keep track of what's going on. Also cool morally gray slightly batshit scientist lady obsessed with the eldritch monster gods.

It's aimed at the age group kind of just under YA but not in a way where you can't read it unless you're thirteen. In fact Deeplight single handedly raised my bar for good writing - I finished the book, closed the back cover and my first words after the five minutes of silence to process WHATEVER I HAD JUST READ were "What the fuck that was INSANE" (complimentary).

I've since been reading every other novel of hers that I can get my hands on and they're also all really good, but Deeplight remains my favourite. Also the copy in my library has a really pretty cover.

Okay, Frances Hardinge has something REALLY special going on, she's so incredibly creative, but I've never managed to fully finish one of her books for some reason

But I might pick this up now that you said something

[notwonderlandsworld]

Can you do a fic where the bat kid just has a full mental breakdown because of what happened to Cassie and they miss there bff

I decided to make it a bit short because I don’t wanna entail too much on the Cassie situation (I lowkey think it's because i’ve never learned to cope properly, or I do it too fast lol) Hope you like it! Don't forget to comment and reblog!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: Must read previous fic "Becoming" to understand plot points*

SPECIAL NOTE: all of my child fics/daughter/son/sibling fics will be with an adopted reader and not a biological one. Biological would mean that half of these parents/couples would be mixed, so no I won’t be doing biological. Especially when it comes to predominantly white characters.

pairing(s): Batfam x Child!Reader

warning(s): mention of sensitive issues, mentions of possibly unhealthy coping methods, ANGST, tis sad

word count: 1.5k

You never coped with death before.

As far as you could remember, you have never had to deal with the loss of someone. Having no clue of biological parents or relations amongst the early stages of your childhood, there was never an experience at hand.

You'd jump throughout various orphanages so much until Bruce/Batman came along and turned your world upside down.

Before you were never one to keep close friends. Why bother? It’s not like they’d last long.

That idea completely changed after meeting Cassie.

When you were placed in the same room as her that night, she didn’t shy away from you. She was very keen on making friends, despite your stubbornness at first.

It wasn’t out of spite for her at all, you had just been so used to pushing aside people due to no real experience in establishing friendships amongst previous peers.

When you eventually got settled that night, Cassie seemed to miss the mark on your notions of sleeping. “Psst!” She called out, tucked under her covers but still up and awake.

Your brows furrowed, eyes closed with no intention to open them. Maybe if you didn’t answer she’d get the hint.

“Hey!” the voice yelled in their whisper a little louder. Sucking in a breath, you turned your back to the girl. Just ignore it (Y/N).

“I know you’re awake. C’mon! Talk to me.”

Jesus fuck, did this girl not know how to take a hint? Pulling the covers up to your nose, some shuffling was heard followed by silence after. Good.

Yelping, there was a harsh dip on the bed. Eyes flying open, you looked around to find the culprit. Glaring, low and behold there was Cassie laying down beside.

The teenager smiled, “I wonder…” she seemed to ignore the harsh scowl directed towards her. 

“The fuck! Why are you on my bed?!”  you demanded an answer. But she continued rambling off til you retaliated with a kick to the ankle.

“Ow!” Cassie reached down to soothe the oncoming bruise. “The fuck was that for?”

“What do you mean? Asked why you came over my bed! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to if you talked to me in the first place.” Cassie retorted back with a smug look spread across her face. Your intrusive thoughts were demanding to kick her onto the floor, but went against it.

Groaning, you threw the covers off and made your way to the desk between the two beds. Falling onto the chair, you leaned back while glaring at the culprit now alone on the mattress. “We're only gonna talk for five minutes, then I'm going back to sleep.”

Cassie smiled, sitting up straight. “I’ll take that!” she stated before beginning her ramble.

Needless to say, the five minute talk ended up being over two hours. It was strange how quickly you grew to befriend the teenager in the span of 6 months.

The caretakers were surprised to see you more befriending towards the other kids a few weeks after. It soon became obvious where the shift in attitude had come from. More or so, who had caused the shift in tone.

You had become closer with Cassie as the days grew by. She explained her life throughout the years, and she was experiencing her teen years. Listening to her ongoing story made you realize how alone the two of you truly were.

But she rest assured you; “Don’t worry!” she’d say, “We’ll take care of eachother from now on, and in the future too!” She almost felt like a sister after. She began to feel like the sister you never grew to have.

It’s crazy how that was all stripped away when Bruce Wayne adopted you. The idea still engraved into the back of your head suddenly felt more and more bleak.

You and Cassie weren’t together anymore.

The chances of taking care of one another became more and more bleak. It made you feel guilty. Maybe if you had told Bruce to take her in as well…then things could be different. You could feel tranquil. You would feel complete, knowing that you had Cassie by your side.

But that didn’t happen. You didn’t speak to Bruce or your family about it. You went without protest. And now here you remained in the Wayne manor, a letter addressed to you from the orphanage addressing Cassie’s death.

‘It’s crazy’ you told yourself as you mourned for her. As you sobbed uncontrollably when you first discovered, there was a voice in the back of your head that wanted to come forward.

It terrified you. It was hard to push it back, not allowing it to come forward, because you already knew Cassie wouldn't want you to blame yourself. Yet the barrier was broken and soon the repeated chants kept stabbing at you.

It’s all your fault.

It’s all your damn fault.

Why didn’t you say anything before?

Why didn’t you tell Bruce to take Cass with you? Because of you she’s dea-

Any attempts to block them were pointless at this point. You tried so hard but couldn’t help giving in. They’re right. They had a point. Why didn’t you speak up sooner?

The voices kept chanting louder and louder, it was getting hard to breathe. You couldn’t even figure out what to do. What could you do at a time like this? Your instincts responded for you.

You ran. It seemed like the easiest option right now.

It was a good thing Dick caught up. Otherwise who knows where you would’ve ended.

While hugging your adoptive brother, you couldn’t help looking up at Bruce. How did he react to this? He’s an adult, so he should already know by now.

Maybe he’d provide some answer.

However upon landing on his features, you grew fearful when you realized even he didn’t know how to react.

Bruce simply stared back, bothered and unsure.

-

You’d figure it would be easier after the funeral. Turns out that would be a lie. It only grew worse. After you discovered the murderers of your friend, things went blank.

It was Damian who had helped you with the aftermath of it all.

The betrayal of Tamika was the cherry on top to the entire catastrophe. You hated every single second of it. There were so many mixed emotions running through the entirety of your mind.

Not a single one was invited or welcome, yet they seemed to overtake your space easily.

You thought there'd be some satisfaction in brutally massacring Tamika and Markus, and luckily it was there. Knowing they wouldn't be able to cause pain anymore had brought some reassurance. So there was that at least.

If only you hadn’t known them. Then you wouldn’t be dealing with the feeling of betrayal right now. It wouldn’t hurt as much.

The one thing that kept bothering, the thing that kept furious at yourself, was the pain you felt after committing a gruesome painting.

You despised how you felt pain; you were feeling guilty at Tamika.

Grasping at the sides of your head, it took everything within you to not bash your head against the corner of a shelf. You felt like hurting yourself at the thought of feeling an ounce of sympathy for the same staff worker.

Just…why? Of all people, why did it have to be her? What did you do to Tamika…What did Cassie do to Tamika? There were so many questions left unanswered, and they’d remain that way forever.

In the midst of it all, there would be a blank space from now on. 

Sliding down the wall of your room, you pulled your knees up to your chest. Staring blankly at the window.

You wondered around what time Damian would come home. What he would order next. Maybe tomorrow he’d make you confess your crimes to Bruce and the family. Maybe it’d be thrown under the rug.

Maybe the police would arrive tomorrow—

You could feel the emotions ready to rush out, and you didn’t want them to.

But the distractions didn’t seem to help take your mind off things. “Please…” you begged no one, trying to stifle the upcoming hiccups.

Feeling it slowly creep up, your body grew more and more shaky. The jolts were uncontrollable at this point. Lifting yourself up from the floor, you grabbed at one of the pillows on the bed, and hugged it close.

Letting out a sob, you bit into the pillow to muffle the sound. After prevailing so, the sobs grew louder, leading to stuffing your entire face into the cushion. The last thing you needed was anyone coming in asking if you were ok.

The reality was that no. No you weren’t okay.

The one person you considered your dearest friend was murdered by the hands of someone you almost trusted with all your well-being.

No amount of comfort would feel helpful right now. Being alone was the best option at the moment. It was the only way you knew how to cope with the recent murder of Cassie. 

Was it the best option? Who knows; you never coped with death before.

I'm very sorry if it sucks I tried :) I've also been gone for a while. Let's just say because of health and work. Mainly work lol.

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 2 (19/11/23-25/11/23)

Model used is Tsonghan Wu

1

Went hard with the push ups this week. It gives me such a euphoric rush. I’ve built my chest in the gym normally so by the time I've got a pump from doing a single set of push ups I've got my own set of stress toys to flex and play with. The highest score for this week was 36 with no backtracking. One notable Session involved Scandinavian_King(of Set C fame) pushing me harder and harder to keep doing sets past my first one. Each time to failure. I get so easily riled up with shit like that. Guys taking advantage of the muscle lust to push me harder. I think that night I got a total of 90 in a 5 min span.

2

Muscle related competition was a bit sparse this week. K was out sick so no push up rival. I did end up trying to beat my great friend Teal’s record of 50. That did not work. But I'll get there. Need to get there. Need to fucking win.

3.

This is a fortnightly task but I have noticed an issue. It is related to the problem of me defaulting to these shitty pieces of clothing just cause they are there. I wear them, they make me feel like a dysmorphic trash bag and then because I wear them they are dirty and get put in the wash basket. Which interrupts me being able to instantly put them in the Task box. Luckily I've got some Rawgear stuff coming to pad out the wardrobe before I get to those pieces.

4.

This was the first time I actually got to practice the accent with Jockrs. Truth be told, I'm fucking great at that kinda stuff. I’ve always had a natural ability for voice modification and accent work. So i put it at like a 5/10 on the intensity scale for the whole time we were on the call. Jockrs didn’t fare as well. Obviously it’s a little harder to go from Aussie to Cali than my more neutral “trans-atlantic” mess. One thing i'd like to overcome in this whole process is the Irony poisoning. I spent so much of my life as a Snarky sarcastic dweeb. So much of my life being “Ironic” and joking about without taking things to the genuine core of me. So even this task it’s difficult to get started because in the first couple minutes you’ve got that awkward Irony block for doing something that feels affected. It was such a fun experience tho. After a while the voice just flows through you and it is such a flowey, breathy voice. So fluid and easy.

5.

Rather than describe every BtG episode I'm going to focus on different things that I love and how this show absolutely scratches some old fantasies from my days as a dumb teenager in the musclegrowth kink community. Episode 3 where Baki is placed in a normal high school athletics test, and because of his sheer strength and inhuman physique is completely out of bounds and therefore almost flunks. Absolute Muscle RP fuel. Add to that all the gore and viscera in the other scenes. It’s very itch scratchy and possibly kink forming if you’ve got the abyss already bubbling away.

6.

I am a glutton for punishment and I made an extra task for myself in each of the sets. I did this by drawing tarot cards. Letting the universe speak to me to guide my journey. For this set I drew a Wheel of fortune which talks about fortunate initiative, spontaneity, random success, equality of souls.

And i translated that to "Take more chances with guys in the gym" I hopped on this one quick too. 

I had to kinda work myself up for it but this really chill seeming asian dude with nice curly hair who has legit been at the gym the same time as me for i'd wager 80% of my workouts.

He was just resting and I asked his name and stuff complimented him and asked his goals.

His name is Adrian, he used to do a lot of sport and was focused on strength gains back in high school, but now he's in uni and is more focused on just looking good.

He goes to my school but does law and commerce so unlikely we'll ever share a class or even be there at the same time.

He asked some of my stuff yada yada.

And he kept saying super low under his voice like "you're so huge dude. So huge"

And then when he was leaving he came and said goodbye. It seems small, I know but it’s a big achievement for me every time I make a gymbro. It’s hard making friends in this country.