#Except the fact that it feels like there is a permanent fog around my brain right now

[freebooter4ever]

I dont know how to force myself to sit down and transfer/update my new computer so i can feel comfortable drawing again ;_; but i need to

[lexosaurus]

I Love You

My fic for day 5 of DP Side Hoes Week (yes I’m a day behind). 

Character: Jazz Theme: Hospital

This oneshot exists within my Everything Was White fic series [ao3]. You do NOT have to be following Everything Was White to understand this fic, this one exists as a prequel in the timeline and I give enough context in the text for anyone to be able to understand it. 

Okay, enjoy!

---

Jazz sat on the armchair, her gaze blank. Hazy. She hadn’t moved since she sat down some time ago. Time moved without reason, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been. Her back hurt and her lips were chapped, but she hardly noticed her discomfort.

The only thing that mattered was the person laying on the bed before her.

The person she hardly recognized.

Four weeks. That’s how long he had been missing from their lives, that’s how long the Guys in White had him. Twenty-eight days on the dot.

She could never forget his eyes as he was dragged out the door. They were wild, desperately staring down their parents who were both pinned down by government agents with guns trained to their heads. He screamed, struggling against his captures. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Because in the end, he was thrown in the back of a white van. All while Jazz stood on the stairs doing nothing. 

She should have freed him. She could have helped. But she was too weak. 

Too weak.

Her eyes stung, and she wanted to cry. Break down. Sob. But she had already used up her stock of tears hours ago, when she finally saw him for the first time since he’d be transferred out of critical care.

He was frail, tiny. Nothing but skin and bones. His body was scarred, torn, encased in gauze and casts. Doctors fluttered about, talking in hushed tones as they analyzed her brother’s body. They tried not to show it, but Jazz knew they were baffled by him.

There was talk about his injuries. He hadn’t woken up yet, at least not completely, but Jazz was already told of the more...drastic injuries.

The Y scar on his chest.

The paralysis.

The starvation.

No one knew what the permanent effects were going to be. No one knew how he was going to fair once he woke up. But there was one thing they all knew for certain, a truth that none of the Fentons had said out loud yet: 

Danny was not going to be the same anymore.

She crumbled, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Apparently, she still had more tears to give. A sob tore its way from her throat, pulling with it a wave of emotions that Jazz had just spent the last few hours desperately trying to repress.

She was tired. So, so tired. And yet, this nightmare refused to end.

“Danny, I—I’m so sorry.” Jazz’s voice was raw. The naked truth was hanging right there in front of her, the consequences of her complete failure. 

She should have been there for him during the ghost fight. The one between him and Skulker that ultimately led to his revelation right there high in the skies in front of the entire town. She could have helped him.

She should have known the Guys in White would then come surround their house and take him.

She should have tried harder to find him and break him out of the government compound. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t find the stupid building.

She should have practiced her questions better in court. Maybe then the jury would have decided sooner. She could have gotten him released before he was hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

“I love you so much, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“You alright there, son?” Jack asked. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It didn’t seem to matter. Jazz doubted Danny even heard their father’s question. She was honestly questioning if he even realized they were in the room.

His eyes wandered around the room as if he were still trying to take in the walls of the hospital. He woke up four days ago, and yet every day had been the same blank wandering gaze. 

Jazz hoped it was just the pain medication the hospital was giving him. She desperately clung onto the belief that her brother would snap out of it one day and would come home and he would be back to normal.

Back to how he was before.

“Your mother and I are going to meet with the surgeon.” Jack put an arm around Maddie, pulling her into his side. 

Her face was white, streaked with red as if she’d been crying recently, and the bags under her eyes had never been so pronounced. But Jazz couldn’t blame her. After all, she probably looked more or less the same.

“Stay with Danny, alright? We’ll come grab you after.”

“Sure, Dad,” Jazz said, putting on a smile she hoped was comforting.

Her mother muttered something that Jazz didn’t catch, and then both parents were gone. 

And Jazz was alone. With Danny.

Again.

She turned back to face him. The doctors had said that he’d sustained significant brain damage, and they weren’t sure yet how much communication he would be able to do. He was too drugged up still, too out of it. 

He couldn’t speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand her.

Or maybe that was her hopeful side talking again. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. She would only be hurt in the end.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz tried. Her voice was thin. Dry. She tried to wet her lips and spoke again. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re comfortable. If you were wondering, you broke your spine. I mean, I’m sure you already knew that but—” Her voice cracked. “—you know. That’s why you, um, might be uncomfortable right now. It’s the brace.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

Just continued staring at the ceiling.

Jazz wondered if anything was going through his mind. If he had any questions. She would if she were Danny. 

She tried to imagine the sort of things he would say. His voice, crackling through the throes of puberty, as he poked fun at her in that annoying way only a brother could accomplish. She tried to envision a world where he could still do that.

And she tried not to think about the fact that there was a good chance that she’d never hear his voice again.

“Your SCI was incomplete, you know. So there’s still a chance…” Jazz shook her head. 

There she was getting hopeful again. 

“Everyone really missed you, Danny. I—I really missed you.”

He blinked slowly. In her imagination, Jazz heard him say “I missed you too.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“What band are we in the mood for today?” Jazz asked, scrolling through her playlist.

Danny was starting to come to. He seemed to be able to hold eye contact, albeit not for very long, and his minute facial expressions showed at least some understanding of what was happening around him.

Although, he still hadn’t spoken yet.

Jazz glanced brightly down at him. Now that she knew he was conscious of her presence, she couldn’t afford to show up at the hospital in sweats with her tear-stained face anymore. She had to be there for him. She had to be strong.

Maybe she had been too weak to help him before. Maybe back then, she had failed him.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t strong enough to help him now.

“What do you think? MCR? Blink-182?” she asked. “I got these band names from Sam, by the way. So if she lied to me about what music you listen to now, don’t blame me.”

Danny just stared at her with his owl-ish expression.

“Here, if you want, you can choose.” Jazz held her phone screen out in front of him, watching as his eyebrows scrunched up ever so slightly as he gazed up at the screen.

Jazz felt her smile falter for a split second before she pulled her phone away and straightened herself up on her chair.

She had to be strong.

“It’s okay, I’ll just choose one.” She tapped the screen and set her phone down. 

The sound of over-compressed guitars filled the tiny bluetooth speaker on the windowsill, and Jazz beamed down at Danny, waiting for that tiny flicker of recognition to hit his face.

And, to her delight, some of the fog in his eyes momentarily lifted. He looked over to Jazz as if he were seeing her for the first time, the shock and disbelief seeping through the blank slate that was his expression.

Jazz was hardly able to keep the glee out of her voice. “You like it?”

His eyes flickered between Jazz and the bluetooth speaker. Back and forth again before settling back on the ceiling.

“Well, I’ll have to thank Sam for the recommendation later! She can’t wait to see you, you know. The doctors are only allowing family in your room right now, but maybe next week if you’re feeling up to it, Sam and Tucker can stop by. I don’t want to make any promises right now, but you never know.”

Danny’s eyes slowly traveled around the ceiling.

“Are you thirsty?” Jazz asked. “Hungry? Well, you’re probably not hungry. Doctors have been monitoring your nutrient intake a lot. I’m glad, too, because you have some color in your face again.”

His eyes shut, and a content smile twitched on his face.

Jazz couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so peaceful.

“I love you, Danny.”

He didn’t respond. 

---

Danny was home now. That should have been a good thing. 

It should have been.

And it was. In so many ways, it was wonderful having him home again.

But in so many other ways, it wasn’t.

Jazz had been under some illusion that once he made it home, things would go back to normal. Sure, he would be in a wheelchair until his PT started, and he might not be able to turn into a ghost for a few weeks either, but her brother would be home. 

Except, Danny never came home. Physically, he did. But mentally he was still trapped somewhere far away.

He was talking now at least. He’d started talking the week before he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t able to speak in full sentences, at least not without pausing, and he wasn’t able to really understand long sentences either, but this was a start.

Jazz wanted to hope that things would get better, but hope was a dangerous drug.

After all, even though he’d started speaking again, he still refused to talk about what happened to him. Anytime Jazz would try to bring the conversation up, he’d clam up and close off for the rest of the day.

And that hurt. It hurt so bad. She so desperately wanted to be there and support him, to help him talk through the trauma he’d experienced, but he just didn’t want to.

But that was okay. It had to be okay. She had to be strong.

She stood in front of his door, pausing only to compose herself before knocking.

He didn’t acknowledge her knock, but Jazz wasn’t expecting him too. He was trying to isolate himself, and Jazz wasn’t going to let him.

She’d already failed him once. 

“Good morning, Danny!” Jazz bursted into the room, her voice chipper despite the fact that she hadn’t slept last night.

She doubted that Danny did either.

Danny was lying on top of his comforter, already dressed. Their mom must have gotten him situated before shutting herself down in the lab.

Their parents seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“Come on, get up. I come bearing an activity!”

“Too early,” Danny grumbled.

Jazz ignored him, sauntering into the room brandishing a large, easy piece jigsaw puzzle she’d just ran out to buy that morning.

It was hard to find one for kids that wasn’t either a princess castle or a race car scene. Fortunately, the store had one on sale that had colorful, cartoon baby ghosts covering the image.

“Either you get up, or I drag you up. Either way, you’re doing this puzzle with me.”

“Puzzle?” Danny asked.

Jazz tried not to stare as he struggled upright, only swooping in to set his pillows upright behind him. “Yeah, puzzle.”

She set the box down in front of him, pulling off the lid and revealing the large pieces in front of him.

“That’s...so Boring.”

“Well, the doctors still want you avoiding screens for a little while longer. I figured this was better than staring at the wall.”

Danny eyed the box, his face impassive. 

“Here, wait.” She went out into the hallway, grabbing a large piece of cardboard from the wall. “I brought something to make the puzzle on. Figured it would be easier than the mattress.”

“Okay.” He picked up one of the pieces, inspecting it slowly as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So…” Jazz plopped herself down on the mattress next to Danny and put the cardboard over their laps. “What do you think we should do first?”

Danny gazed blankly down, his eyes trailing between the cardboard and the puzzle piece in his hand. He blinked, and then put the puzzle piece down on the cardboard.

“Okay, we can start with that one!” Jazz chirped.

“No…” Danny ran his hand through his hair. “No that’s not...need to sort.”

“Oh?” Jazz grabbed another piece from the box. “So what should I do with this one then?”

Danny gazed quizzically over at Jazz, grabbing the piece to inspect it. “Edge,” he finally said, setting the piece down on the opposite side of the board from the first piece.

“So we’re sorting the edge pieces from the regular pieces?” 

Danny hummed, grabbing another piece from the box.

“Sounds like a good plan!”

They worked together in near silence after that, Jazz only stopping every so often when she could feel Danny’s attention slipping to ask him to help her sort a piece. It was almost cute how determined he was to complete the task correctly. It almost reminded Jazz of the quiet determination that would slip onto his features in the moments just before he transformed into Phantom. 

Solving the puzzle was a whole different beast. If Jazz were honest, she wasn’t sure if they would have been able to finish in one sitting. Danny still tired far too rapidly throughout the day, and he still slept for more hours than he was awake.

But finally Danny snapped the last piece into place, completing their simple blob ghost picture.

“Nice job!” Jazz put her hand up for a high five.

Danny blinked, slowly processing the motion, before his brain caught up and he gave a little smirk, a tiny eye roll, but met Jazz’s hand all the same.

She put the cardboard with the now completed puzzle on the floor before sitting back against the fluffy pillows. Breathing out, she allowed herself to sink back into the cushions for just a moment.

She was so tired. 

Her brain swirled, and she wanted to sink deeper into the darkness. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Are you asleep?” Danny asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A quiet trepidation settled over the pair. Jazz could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air like forbidden fruit ripe for picking. But the apples were just out of reach, and she knew the branches wouldn’t sink lower until Danny was ready. 

But he had to come home first. He would never be ready to tell her what happened until he finally came back to them. And Jazz didn’t know how long that would take.

“I love you,” Jazz said.

Danny didn’t respond.

---

Thanks for reading!

[angelic-serenade]

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

request: Imagine Light discovering that you know MMA and you offer to teach him so he can properly defend himself

requested by: @sacredwarrior88​

a/n: hope the waiting was woth it! jokes aside, I am deeply sorry for the amount of time this took and the fact I got sidetracked, I hope you can still enjoy this piece!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Light Yagami x f!reader

fandom: Death Note

warnings: angst, ment of death & murder, guilt tripping, manipulation, light yagami being light yagami, toxic relationship, canon typical violence

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“You're a pretty boy, Light Yagami. You should be able to properly defend yourself!”

That's what you kept repeating to the golden student of the prestigious Daikoku private academy ever since you had been granted the 'privilege' of referring to him as a friend. Light Yagami was nothing short of extraordinary - perfect, some would dare to say. But perfection and popularity, above all, are bound to have a price and you feared the day someone would finally strike up enough courage to try and shred the boy to pieces out of envy for his academic success and overall superiority in everything he did. Revenge was petty like that.

Therefore, being a well-practiced mixed martial arts fighter yourself, you insisted on giving the boy some lessons in order to at least help him reach a decent level of self-defense, so that he would hopefully be able to get out of any minor sticky situation unscathed. Extreme apprehension aside, it was a really useful skill which would benefit anyone and Light Yagami would be no exception. You knew the mighty hero of adults and students alikd had no time to spare, with his schedule permanently jam-packed and quite the amount of expectations to meet: MMA trainings would cost him more time he could afford losing - or so he had said. Whatever reason he conjured up each time you offered, it could do nothing to soothe your worries, which kept falling on deaf ears as Light kept politely turning your queries down.

“I may be a pretty boy as you say, (Y/N), but I am no secret agent or spy. I doubt I'd even run into any situation as dangerous as to call for such drastic measures. Besides, if I ever get in trouble I'll simply have to give you a call.”

And so the days passed between playful banter and boring study sessions, with no further mention of those lessons you wished your friend had accepted; you were a bit crestfallen to say the truth, but you guessed that maybe he’d manage even with no training at all. Besides, Light made sure to make it up to you by inviting you to hang out with him any time he had a moment to finally breathe and take a break – you were glad that you’d get to meet with him outside of school as no one else could actually say the same for themselves. You were aware that the boy was practically married to his academic career and the effort he made to keep the relationship working outside of the academy’s walls too was not lost on you. At first, everything seemed to work out just fine between the two of you: you were friends, best friends even, and you also became a regular at the Yagami household’s dining table. Furthermore, each time you’d have a MMA match, he’d be there to support you. You’d gotten so used to spot him through the crowd that your eyes seemed to immediately find him among the many anonymous faces around you. It was nice and it became routine.

That is until something seemed to change.

The shift was gradual, nothing major to be concerned of at first – maybe he was just tired because of the exams? Or maybe the field work he’d taken up to help his father was really burning him out, right? As days went by, you tried to cheer your friend up, but to no avail: his expression grew distant, and even though Light Yagami had never been an outgoing individual per se, his prolonged silences and far-away stares made him look even more stoic and cold than usual. It was worrying and it started to bother you, a lot. You didn’t know what was troubling the usually moderate boy, but you were certain that whatever the hell was happening, it was affecting Light immensely. Being a discreet person himself, Light never spoke a word to you about anything that might have been considered remotely negative. Your days were spent as before, enjoying each other’s company – to an outsider’s eye, nothing had changed in the way he carried himself, but to a more attentive eye, such as yours, his conduct grew to be concerning: even when he was with you, his mind would always be elsewhere. You pondered the idea of confronting him face to face, but you didn’t want to pry or come off as coquettish. Therefore you kept worrying in silence, mind haunted by the possibilities that could have led your dear friend down on such a questionable path.

You didn’t wait for long though. The confirmation to your suspicions made itself known when Light came to you one day to ask about those lessons you had offered him months back.

The sudden request, after so much time spent together without ever mentioning the offer, struck you as odd. What had changed his mind? As you racked your brain to try and get the answers you so desperately craved, you couldn't help but to come to the same conclusion over and over again: Light's excuse for finally making up his mind about self-defense was bulletproof, sure, but the sudden change of heart didn't sit well with you still. Was the wish to aid his father on the field all there was to it? You didn't think so. But until you had no solid proof to your suspicions, that was all they'd ever be. You refused to act on a whim and rather logically decided to humor the boy in his newfound interest, as long as he kept his sights on self-defense and self-defense only. In the meantime, you decided you’d monitor the evolution of his behavior and keep a close watch on him .

“You have made quite some progress, huh.”

You swallowed down almost half the water bottle in your hand, while looking at your equally worn out companion: it had been another two hours of training and you came to the conclusion that maybe it was time to end your little sparring session.

“If it’s you who says it, it must be true.” Smiled the boy, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“I think our lessons are numbered, there’s not much else I can teach you.”

“That’s nice to hear, you really are a tough teacher.” Another fake smile which you did not reciprocate. As he made haste to get everything he’d brought with him in his bag, you made up your mind and settled for upfront confrontation.

“I guess… say Light, is there something that’s been bothering you lately?” it was now or never and you weren’t going to let the occasion go. He was tired and supposedly had his guard down – it was a moment as good as any to get some information out of him.

“Oh, I guess I’ve been pretty out of it lately, huh? I’m sorry if I had you worried, work at the station has been quite hectic and I can’t help but take it home with me.”

“That makes sense, don’t stress yourself out too much though. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can to support your father.” your words were automatic, articulated with little to no regard for the boy’s feelings: you were disappointed your so-called friend had decided to feed you yet another hollow excuse instead than opening up to you as a friend should. If there was anything you absolutely could not stand about Light Yagami, it was his charming way of spinning words in order to avoid revealing the whole truth.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Frustrated that he had let the conversation drop for the umpteenth time, annoyed at your fruitless attempts to persuade your friend to simply talk to you, and, to top it all, exhausted by the tough training session of the day, you let the negative impulses get to your head and acted in an uncharacteristically rash way: the surprise punch landed on the target with no effort at all and, even though you realized one second too late that you had broken almost a dozen rules of the moral code of martial arts, you felt invigorated by the action. The sound of your punch colliding with Light’s jaw brought an immense amount of satisfaction to your fogged mind, so much so that you almost came to question your own twisted way of taking it out on the boy; the moment of blind anger subsided, but you did not back down from the upcoming fight:

“I intended to give you the benefit of the doubt, given the sincere nature of the friendship I thought we shared, but apparently I was way too understanding with you. I keep extending my hand towards you and you threaten to bite it off each time with your half-hearted excuses and half-truths. You may not be aware of it, but this-” you gestured towards him and then yourself: “this is not the way things should be between friends, Light Yagami and I’m sick of pretending everything’s alright.”

The boy did not flinch, nor did he make any move to reciprocate your previous offending motion. He just stood there, impassible and unreadable.

“Will you at least say something? Or do you not care at all?”

Light Yagami was stuck, both physically and figuratively speaking. Your harsh words had caught him off guard, literally hitting him in the face with the hard reality he’d been progressively distancing himself from. He had underestimated what an issue your shared bond could become for his great plan of rebuilding the world; if he were to be completely honest, he’d considered disposing of you at first – not permanently, of course, but cutting you off from his life would have been one less burden to worry about. His game of cat and mouse with L did not make things easy though: you were the weak link, a bothersome liability he should have taken care of since the start, but terminating the friendship with you so abruptly would have done nothing but to bring more attention upon himself and you. His position within the special task force of L was precarious enough as it was, he couldn’t afford the slightest miscalculation. Therefore he’d settled on exploiting whatever he could gain from the relationship (hence the MMA training lessons) while maintaining the façade of a precious but unfortunately extremely busy friend. He hadn’t anticipated you’d actually see right through his little stunt.

He raised a hand to his jaw – it stung. A sudden urge overcame him and his hand twitched as if expecting to clench around a certain black notebook. As soon as the compulsion hit, he composed himself once again:

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I realize I’ve been a terrible friend to you, but-” the words caught on his tongue, a sob rocking his frame so suddenly you almost jumped back, startled. Guilt began to pool in your stomach, had you been too hard on him?

“Things are not going well at the station and I can’t give you any details but it is all so- so overwhelming-”

You closed the distance between the two of you and, feeling oh so regretful for your hasty actions and so hypocritical for your arrogant claims, you hugged your dear friend as if it were your lifeline.

“I’m sorry Light, I-”

“There’s no need to apologize (Y/N), I have been so cold to you and it is my fault that I cut you off like that. I assure you it will never happen again, I will do better.”

You held the boy in your arms, and let him take his time to calm down. Horrible, that’s what you felt for treating a friend so hatefully - he’d already been struggling on his own and instead of landing him a comforting hand, you had hit him with it. You promised you’d make it up to him, too.

“If that punch managed to catch me so off guard, it means you’ll have to bear with me for a few more lessons, I guess” he finally smiled.

[…]

“You should have seen the look on your face when she punched you! Priceless! Oh I am so glad you humans can prove to be so entertaining yet!”

Light gave you a wave of his hand as he made his way down the street, away from your house, ignoring the nagging laughter of the hellish being following him around. What a waste of his time.

“I really thought you’d get rid of her for good this time! What a night!”

The boy made no comment to Ryuk’s exhilarated blabbering, trying instead not to lose himself in that primordial fury that made him tempted to write another name on the Death Note.

“And the way you managed to play her- she was mortified when you started crying! You are a great actor, Light Yagami.”

“Shut up, Ryuk.” whispered Light.

“You know what I think? I think you can’t really get rid of her, even if you desperately want to, even with no L getting in the way of your plans – you’d still wouldn’t be able to kill her. Oh, now, that’s gold!”

The boy did not confirm nor confute Ryuk’s words - he kept silent as he made his way through the darkness.

[jeonggukingdom]

your every wish is my command (m)

▽ Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

▽ Genre: genie!AU, smut, fluff, crack

▽ Summary:  It’s Friday night and everyone you know in a 12 miles radius seems to be out and about dancing or drinking their lives away. Bored out of your mind you decide to call out the Genie that happened to fell in your hands a month prior to this very night. You just want some company, somebody to talk to and entertain you but things take a spicy turn when you accidentally make your very first wish and it’s a rather impious one.

▽ Word Count: 13.690 words

▽ WARNINGS:  Graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, very light breathplay, rough sex, oral sex, thigh riding, tit fucking, swear words.

▽ AN: I’m going to take a moment to thank all the writers that participated in this collab, you guys are amazing and I love every single one of you! ♥ You were so supportive of each other, understanding when we ran into a few problems and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch to share my very first collab experience with. Thank you, for everything ♥ @hobiwonder - @couture-kookie - @btsflufflysmut - @jimintykookies - @btssmutflufflove - @whichwaytowonderlandep

 "Uuuugh, I'm bored out of my goddamn mind!" You huff in annoyance, sprawling on your bed with a prominent pout on your face as the deafening silence of your room welcomes your words.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling, your feet dangling out the edge of your mattress in a perfect imitation of a kid throwing a tantrum.

It is Friday night and normally you'd be out and about having fun, quite possibly drinking your brains out along with your friends, only to regret all your life's decisions in the morning.

But you are regretting this one decision tonight after all so, either way, lots of regrets seems to be headed your way tomorrow morning. Usually, they would come in the form of an incessant headache and the shame for your actions the previous night but, tomorrow seems more like it would be in the form of your friends' tales about the night and all the good—and bad—things you have missed.

Your phone chimes then, right on cue, and you ungracefully roll on your stomach to stretch your left arm forward and fish the device from under the little colorful pillows and covers on your still unmade bed.

In bold black letters shines Doyeon's name, your friend since junior year in high school with whom you have the misfortune—or fortune, depends on who you ask it to—of sharing your college experience with.

The text she has sent you is akin to a cryptic secret message from the stone age and you do not have the patience nor the will to try and understand what it means aside from the fact that she is, clearly, already too intoxicated to even know how to type down actual words.

Your suspicions are confirmed in the matter of a few seconds when your phone rings again, this time with a notification from SnapChat. Dreading what awaits you, you still tap it open and are instantly met with the loud ass music and the glorious unfocused shot of people dancing around your pretty friend.

You can hear Doyeon screaming her lungs out along with the music and, rolling your eyes, you lock your phone again.

Your lips purse into another pout as you scan your surroundings in the desperate search of something at least a little entertaining to do.

You have spent the last hour scrolling through your entire timeline on Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat, and you have reached that bottom point where nothing new is up anymore for you to consume.

You let out a strangled moan of irritation towards yourself and turn flat on your back again, staring at the ceiling in dismay.

With the semester coming to an end and your grades not being as stellar as your parents' would like them to be, you have found yourself on the verge of constant panic every waking hour of the past few weeks and it is that dread that has pushed you to make a responsible decision tonight, for once.

Staying in to study for your impendent exam seemed only rational; finishing up the assignment due on Monday instead of rushing it in panic tomorrow night for the hundredth time seemed smart and, ultimately, getting a little ahead with your mandatory literature reads—like the perfect student your parents would love for you to be—seemed absolutely genius and something you would thank yourself for in the long run. Clearly, a farfetched assumption that has been discarded a long time ago in favor of resentment towards your own line of thoughts.

When you had planned out your evening, it hadn't occurred to you that in the silence of the dorm and with the absence of Doyeon's intrusions in your room, you could be productive and finish up all of these tasks in the few hours between the late afternoon and the early evening.

So now, at barely 10 PM in the evening, you are left with no company and absolutely nothing else to do beside pathetically stare at your white naked walls.

Your phone rings again and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, already sure of the identity of the person behind the receiver.

Without a fault, it is your best friend trying to contact you again in her riled-up state and you do consider ignoring the call but then again, it's not like you have anything better to do anyway.

You barely have the time to accept the call and move the phone to your ear before Doyeon's scream in the form of your name reverberates in your skull.

"Ya'llneverbelievewhadhappend!"

Doyeon's slurs her words out in a screech that hurts both your brain and your acoustic walls, ultimately forcing you to put her on speaker and drop the phone on the bed to avoid permanent damage to your neurotic cells.

Not so surprisingly, though, you still understand the words that are thrown your way and that is because you've had this conversation quite many times before, especially in person with your brain lost in an intoxicated haze and the lack of comprehension skills.

"What happened?" You ask back, honestly just to humor her and see what she'll come up with.

Doyeon tries, she really does, but she can't really describe the picture in her head clearly and even though you give her your undivided attention, the only things you can make-out out of her rant are the words 'kiss', 'Hoseok', 'gottagoBYE'.

Before you even get the chance to utter a single word in response, you're met with the sound of the line getting caught off and the consequential silence that comes right after.

"Really..." you whisper to yourself in annoyance, glaring at your phone as if Doyeon could even see you through the locked screen.

Curiosity has your mind reeling on the infinite scenarios that could link those few words together and your eternal romantic side hooks on the possibility of Hoseok finally confessing his feelings for your best friend.

It is not a secret that both of them have been pining over each other ever since the end of last semester. Well, not a secret for anybody except them. Those two fools have been going around for literal months believing their crush was very one-sided.

"Ugh, why tonight of all nights?!" You ask at the blank wall in front of you, your hands fisting the covers in utter frustration.

You turn on your back, ungracefully landing on the bed, your face flat on the mattress.

"I wish I could turn back time," you whisper to yourself, tilting your head to the side to fix your gaze on the right wall.

Your eyes comically enlarge as the realization comes to you, the solution to your loneliness and boredom shining like a beacon in the night.

Your gaze fixes on your most precious possession lying between your textbooks in your own rendition of a library: a genie lamp.

Looking quite tacky and straight-out of a cartoon for children, the lamp that has changed your whole perception of what is real and what isn't, shines under the lights.

You jump on your feet with the excitement of a kid who has just arrived at Disneyland and with a big smile plastered on your face, you reach for the golden object.

It still feels weird to hold the ancient lamp in your hands, feel it under your digits and trace the outline of the golden decorations embossed atop the teal surface.

The lamp feels absolutely weightless in your hands and even though you're sort of accustomed to magic by now, it still seems impossible for something so light to be able to contain so many things all at once, let alone a living person.

It has been a few months since you have found the object, placidly waiting to be picked up on a deserted beach in your hometown.

It was the crack of dawn and you had been walking the long way home, enjoying the summer breeze and the nice smell of saltiness—the smell of home and good memories and peace and safety, something you miss with your entire heart when you're back in the city, living the college life.

You had picked it up because it looked like a toy, something a child would have lost and also because growing up, Aladdin had been your favorite Disney movie and oh well, even as an adult you still held a soft spot for it. It was, after all, the cartoon that sparked up your fantasy and imagination. Little did you know though that, when growing up, you'd find out that Aladdin's fairytale wasn't so farfetched as you initially believed.

You will never forget the moment you blew air out your mouth to clean up the lamp, in an attempt to make it shine bright again, and watched it spark up to life. You will also never forget the scream of utter terror that erupted from your mouth once a thick teal fog erupted from it and engulfed you whole.

In the span of a few seconds, you considered the idea of being way more drunk than you initially thought; having gone completely insane; having fallen down somewhere, banged your head and ended up in a weird-dream inducing coma.

The quick escalation of panicked thoughts had made your head spin and your heart rate spike up in your chest.

As the fog seemed to clear all around you, you had found yourself breathing in almost normally again, the thought of having experienced a seizure wildly present in the recess of your mind as you took in the scenery anew.

You expected the beach to be in the same state you had left it before you picked up that goddamned thing but, instead, you were met with two doe eyes, staring right at you.

How you didn't faint right then and there it is still a question you have no answer to but you did scream, oh God if you screamed and ran on the beach like a maniac, scared for your own life.

"Why do you scream so much?"

It had the voice of a boy, damn, he looked like a boy but he couldn't be one, because he came from that thing and if you weren't hallucinating, dreaming or, worse, stuck in a fantasy world of your own creation as your body lied peacefully in a hospital bed, that meant he wasn't human.

"Wha-w-what are you?!" The screech that came out of your mouth made him flinch and scrunch up his nose in distaste as he took a step forward, trying to reduce the distance you had put between the two of you.

"Well, if you had given me the time to speak, you would've known by now that I'm a genie and I'm here to serve you." The 'boy' bowed before you, his head hanging low and his back at a perfect ninety degrees angle to show you the respect you were supposedly due.

Terror seemed to dissipate in your chest, suppressed by a fit of laughter that you had no idea whether it actually came from hilarity or absolute insanity. Still, you laughed until your stomach ached, until your eyes got teary and your cheeks hurt.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion, his lips slightly protruding forward in an adorable pout.

"You-you said you're a genie!" You could barely get the words out before you were thrown into another fit of laughter, unable to control yourself over the absurdity of the whole situation.

"Is my species something to laugh about?" His thick eyebrows narrowed as he studied you and your scrunched-up form, still giggling uncontrollably before him.

The smile slowly disappeared from your lips as you took him in completely for the first time. His eyes had turned cold, his mouth was held in a tight line, his arms crossed over his chest in defense, his stance rigid and mildly uncomfortable.

"Wait, you're being serious?!" Your mouth opened in astonishment as you stared down at him, "You aren't shitting me, right now?"

"Why would I joke about this?" He looked at you, clearly confused by both your initial reaction and your current string of questions.

"Is this some kind of candid camera?" You looked around trying to pick up on the hidden crew or a camera perfectly concealed somewhere up the road.

"What's a candid camera?"

"What's a can-really?!" You looked at him with your mouth open, your eyebrows knitted together in astonishment. Honestly, who doesn’t know what a candid camera is?

"Oh my God, I'm dealing with a crazy person!" You exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky in an over-dramatic motion of incredulity.

"You screamed at me, laughed at me and tried to run away from me and I'm the crazy person here?!" He pointed at himself, his eyes shining with both disbelief and exasperation over your refusal to believe him.

"You are the one that came out from the freaking lamp! Wait-" You stopped on your tracks, suddenly reminded of why you had been scared out of your skin in the first place.

In response, the self-proclaimed genie pointedly looked at you, his eyebrows rising up to his forehead, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for you to finally connect the dots.

It didn't make sense. Genies aren't real, that's what you kept saying to yourself because, honestly, who would have believed him right away? Who in their right mind would have?

"Prove it." You crossed your arms on your chest and looked up at him, fierceness in your gaze and defiance in your stance.

"Because clearly coming out from a lamp is not enough," he muttered to himself, shaking his head a little before relaxing his posture to lift himself up from the ground.

Your chin dropped alongside with your heart, your mind reeling in the attempt to grasp what you were staring at. He was flying. Like, actually flying and that meant either this was very real or there was something really wrong with you.

You felt the blood drain from your face as he gracefully landed before you, his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk whilst panic raged back on inside of you.

You gulped down heavily, unable to tear your gaze away from him in fear the moment you'd look away, he'd kill you. Which is dumb, of course, in retrospective it is but there was alcohol in your system and fear and panic which aren't the nicest combination, to be fair to yourself.

You blow hot air on the lamp and rub on the fogged up surface with your sleeve, cooing him out of the lamp with the same sounds you would use for a cat—something he utterly despises but that you still do just to spite him.

Nine months have passed since you picked up his lamp by accident and you have been through your ups and downs together, so much so you have started thinking about him as a friend. Of course, he doesn't know this and he cannot know this because you are aware it is dangerous territory.

Genies aren't meant to spend a lifetime with a human, they are meant to grant wishes and move on and once they do, they'll never meet their previous owners ever again.

You know this, he has explained it to you on that very first day and even though you understand the rules very well, there is this part of you that refuses the idea of ever letting him go. It's silly, but the feeling is there and it seems as unshakable as a whole huge-ass-mountain.

The familiar teal fog engulfs you, warming up your body as it enlarges in the air, moving around until it thickens into a living human-like creature.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm a genie, not a freaking cat?"

"Good evening to you too, Jeongguk."

He rolls his eyes at you, his hands resting on his hips as he taps his foot to the floor, annoyance written all over his face.

"Fine, fine, I won't do it anymore." You peel off your gaze from his little pout, turning your back on him so you can sprawl yourself on the bed again.

"You said that last time, as well." He takes a step forward, following you to the center of the room to look down at you, his eyes shining with judgment and a little bit of mistrust.

You giggle as you sit up crossing your legs whilst you reach out a hand for him, sticking up your pinkie for him to catch.

"Pinky promise?" You offer, batting your lashes in feigned innocence.

"I'm not a kid," he grumbles under his breath but still joins your fingers together, side-eyeing you as you burst into giggles at his antics.

That's the thing with Jeongguk: he'd mumble, he'd throw a tantrum like a kid and look at you with ice-cold eyes but he'll always humor you. You don't know if it's because it's in his nature or that is just the way it is but you love it, either way.

"So, what am I doing here?" He asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes turning into slits as he studies you, "No, scratch that. What are you doing here?"

You sigh loudly, suddenly reminded of your pathetic Friday night at the dorm.

"I'm here because I had to study, you are here because I want entertainment."

"Is that your first wish?"

It has been nine months since you have met him and not a single day has passed without him asking you about your first wish. At first, you just wanted to consider your options before wasting three wishes on trivial things.

Now, you just don't want to watch him disappear into thin air and forget all about you.

"No, dummy, I'm just bored out of my mind."

Your reply sounds lighthearted but you can't really stop the sadness creeping up in your heart at the thought of ever letting him go. You wish you could speak about this with him or with anybody else but you can't. How exactly would you explain genies to other people without making them think you need some serious help? Also, the most egoistic part of you doesn't even want anyone else to know about the existence of Jeongguk and the rest of his lot.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Ah! You won't trick me into making a wish, I'm not that clueless!"

He shakes his head lightly, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth before sighing loudly.

"That's what I don't understand," he says, his gaze so intense it almost makes you squirm on your seat. These days it almost feels like he can read past your defense and it scares you to no end because you know what he will say. He would be right, too, in saying it but you don't want a wake-up call, not just yet.

"Why don't you?" He asks, narrowing his eyebrows as you promptly look away, avoiding his gaze with all your might.

"I just want to make sure I don't waste them up," your voice says. I enjoy your company far too much to let you go, your heart secretly whispers.

Silence welcomes your words and you let your body fall down on the mattress again, your eyes fixing up on the ceiling anew while your heart feels even heavier than it did before.

Your mind drifts off to your call with Doyeon, how happy she sounded in her messy-ass state. The likelihood of her and Hoseok being together right now is pretty high and yes, you are happy for her but also yes, you do envy her. It has been months since you've last been with a guy and it has been even longer since you even felt something for one.

With a pout on your lips you turn towards your genie, still standing at the edge of the bed with his eyes fixed on you.

This is another thing Jeongguk does: he looks at you all the time. He never lets you out of his sight and at first, you found it odd, unnerving and almost creepy but now, after so many months together, you've grown to like it because it makes you feel special, almost cherished. Of course, it is all based on a lie because it is probably in his nature to keep his eyes on his master but, even so, the heart feels and believes what it wants to.

"You know what would make me feel really better?"

You ask after a few seconds, a wicked smile spreading on your lips as you study your next words. Usually, you wouldn't talk about this stuff with him, maybe not even with Doyeon to be completely honest, but the idea of making him all flustered is too tempting to resist it.

"What?" He asks, his eyes shining with the prospect of you finally using up your very first wish. You swear to God, if he had a tail he'd be wagging it like a dog now, looking so expectantly at you.

You almost bite back the words before they can leave your mouth but then, you don't, and before you realize it, they are hanging in the hair.

"A good dickdown."

He looks at you with his eyes big as saucers, his cheeks the color of rose petals and his mouth slightly parted in a silence reply to your words.

You giggle at his response—or lack thereof—basking in the way he looks so utterly bewildered with your sudden confession.

"Well, I'm-uhm-pretty sure you won't have any problems finding someone willing to...?"

Jeongguk scratches the back of his head, his eyes drifting a little away from your face as he tries to get his composure back after you have thrown him so off with your words.

You take this chance to look at him, truly look at him without the fear of being caught staring, for once.

His black hair shines particularly bright tonight, soft and fluffy locks slightly covering his sharp eyebrows in a way that makes him look young and dainty.

His eyes are your favorite thing to look at. They are black as coal but still shimmer as if stars are trapped behind them, they are big and kind and puppy-like and they make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

His nose is round and a little pointed at the end, an adorable freckle is almost hidden under his right nostril and you may or may not have dreamed of kissing it before.

He has a little scar on his left cheek, almost looking like a cut and you have tried asking him about it but an answer has never come your way, no matter how much you insisted on your pursuit. You imagined a lot how it would feel under your digits. The rest of his skin looks so soft to the touch you truly wonder if it would really seem like stroking peaches if you'd reach your hand and simply touch it.

His mouth is a nice shade of coral, small but pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. But then, if you move your gaze you find another freckle under his bottom lip and that is dangerous territory because you'd love to kiss that one too.

Everything about Jeongguk's face is soft and delicate until he turns a little to the side, or inches his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the manly cut that makes your mouth water and your heart beat faster. Yes, maybe you have developed a crush for your genie and it would definitely not be a wise decision but then again, how do you stop your heart from desiring something?

Your eyes travel a little southern, landing on his open white vest with teal and golden details on his shoulders.

Where his face is soft and gentle, his body is strong and powerful and he makes absolutely no effort to conceal it.

His arms are all muscles and veins that lead to pretty hands—have you ever even looked at hands before you met him?—his shoulders are big and look like the safest place to be held in, his chest is broad and defined and surely the most comfortable pillow to rest your head on.

Your eyes drift towards his firm abdomen, your gaze lingering there as you unconsciously lick your lips, incapable of keeping your thoughts at bay as you are presented, once again, with a body chiseled by the gods.

Whereas his pecs aren't the most defined and sculpted once you've ever seen, he makes up greatly for it when it comes down to his abs.

Before you met Jeongguk, you had never seen abdominal muscles that reached the upper torso in such a precise and perfect definition in real life.

The lines that delineate his muscles almost seem to have been airbrushed in Photoshop and,  if he weren't standing before you right now and you were seeing him for the first time in a photo, you would easily bet a hundred bucks on them being absolutely fake and post-produced.

You love the little curve of his stomach, the way it looks a little bit softer compared to the rock-hard muscles above it and, to be honest, that's the part you prefer the most: his cute belly button, the way those muscles tense inward whenever he laughs too hard at one of your jokes and, further down, the truly mouth-watering little happy trail of fine hair that leads to the golden waistband of his white pants.

You can almost see the curve of his hipbones peeking through the fair fabric and you have to gulp down heavily in order to stop your thoughts from going there.

You abruptly peel off your gaze from him and redirect it towards his face, a mistake you wish you hadn't done because you find him staring right at you, a little questioning look drawn on his face.

You feel the blood quickly rush to your face, turning your skin so uncomfortably hot you almost fan yourself with your hands.

"W-well, it's not as easy as you think," you finally reply, your gaze fixed on anywhere but him, as you try to will your heart rate to slow down a little and your lungs to breathe in some more air.

"Isn't it?" Jeongguk tilts his head to the side, undoubtedly trying to catch your gaze with his own but failing when you refuse to even glance in his general direction.

"Well no because thanks to you I, unfortunately, doubled my freaking standards on males!"

There must be some kind of magical force acting here because not in a million years you would have said that out loud otherwise. The thought that had been ringing in your head ever since he had pronounced his words magically appeared on your tongue and, before you could stop yourself, there it was, hanging in the air like the freaking sword of Damocles.

Jeongguk sports a little grin on his face, clearly not so oblivious to the way he looks and how it affects people around him and, truth be told, you would give anything just to wipe it off from his mouth.

"Have I, now?" He inquires, his voice sickeningly sweet and thick with something that is not curiosity, like his words may suggest, but, rather taunting.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t know how you look like,” you roll your eyes in response to his mocking behavior, gesturing at his whole lean figure for good measure, “I mean, who even has an eight-pack?!”

Jeongguk is fully giggling at your outburst, his cheeks painted in a nice pinkish tone that suggests he appreciates the implied compliment he was given far more than he’s bend to admit.

He’s shaking his head as if he can’t believe what is coming out of your mouth right now, and to be fair, neither do you, especially considering the fact that you are one hundred percent sober.

Your lips protrude forward in a little pout, your eyes glancing at the door to your bedroom without truly seeing it. You are lost in your thoughts again, the desires that have been repressed for long months burning you from the inside out, fighting to be expressed out loud, at last.

"I just wish I could have sex with someone as good looking as you, that’s all... Is that too much to ask?"

You sprawl your body on the bed, your eyes fixing on the ceiling yet again but, this time, it is to avoid the inevitable eye contact with your genie. It may also be to hide the way you are biting down your battered bottom lip in nervousness, and the way little droplets of sweat have gathered around your hairline, the result of blood rushing to your face uncomfortably so.

There is dead silence in the room for a couple of seconds before you hear the sound of clothes rustling, drawing your gaze to the side to fix on him again.

It is with utter horror that you watch him bow before you, a little smirk on his awfully kissable mouth.

"Your every wish my command."

Your heart plummets in your chest, your legs flying to the ground as you stand up in the span of a millisecond, ready to smash him down to a bloody pulp.

“Wait what?! That wasn’t a wish, you ass!”

Jeongguk rises back tall before you, his eyes glinting with mischief and absolutely no sympathy over the fact that you may just have thrown to literal shit one of your three wishes.

"I’m sorry but you can’t take back your wishes.”

"What do you mean I can't take back my wishes?! I didn't even make a fucking wish!"

You are boiling with anger at the way he so clearly took advantage of your little slip of the tongue, completely disregarding the fact that you weren't actually expressing a wish for him to fulfill in the first place.

"I don't make the rules, _______. You made a wish and now I'm going to grant it to you."

He wouldn't be able to hide the amusement glinting in his eyes even if he tried to and a part of you really wants to punch that smirk away from his face, the evident taunt in his features driving you absolutely mad.

Your mind races with thoughts and plans to get you out of this but after a few minutes it is clear that there is no way out, no matter how hard you try to work around it.

"Well...” You say, your voice quivering a little as you weigh down your options in an attempt to get the best out of what you were given, “Can I make it more specific, then? Or does that require another wish to be expressed?”

Your voice is filled with all the insecurity lodged within you, your poor bottom lip getting trapped under the vise of your teeth anew as you stare up to him, butterflies dancing in your stomach and heart spiking up its rate in your chest.

"I will allow it," Jeongguk says, tilting his head a little to the side like puppies do when they don’t understand well what has been said to them. It would be adorable if it weren’t for his eyes shining with cunning curiosity.

“What about someone that resembles you?” Your voices comes out much smaller than you initially anticipated but there is no doubt he has heard you loud and clear.

His eyes are fixed on you, his lips tightly closed in thought as silence hangs between the two of you.

The more he stands perfectly still, without uttering a single word, the more your proximity seems to become uncomfortable, unbearable even.

With all the cards laid out so nicely before him, there is no doubt Jeongguk has picked up on the fact that you have obviously developed a crush on him.

But even if he did, he decides to not address this but, rather, scratching his head a little he utter his next words:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t create someone from thin air. Genies cannot create humans nor kill them or revive them after death.”

You inhale loudly, your eyes drifting to the wall behind him as holding his gaze seems to become an impossible task from here on forward.

It almost feels like the walls around you are crumbling down, allowing him to see the most private and not-so-pretty parts of your soul. Something you never wanted him to see.

“So... if you can’t create someone are you going to summon a real person?”

You are playing with your hands as you say so, trying to wrap up your mind around genie magic and its infinite set of rules that you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“Not exactly,” Jeongguk seems hesitant as he speaks those words, his feet fidgeting as he clicks his tongue, a habit you know means he’s in deep thought—in this case probably trying to figure out the best way to explain to you how his magic works.

“Well... there must be some human being somewhere in this vast world that even remotely resembles...” your words get caught in your throat as you dare to lift your eyes up to meet his. It feels so humiliating to be saying this, finally admitting out loud the grandness of your feelings for him but at the same time, it is not lack of fine male specimen that has stopped you from fucking around in the past few months. It’s the fact that your platonic crush for your genie has made it impossible for every single human to stand a chance against him.

“I am no human being so, no, there is nobody else like me.”

His voice is deep as he stares down at you, all hilarity gone from his gaze as he takes you down, evidently studying you to the point it makes you squirm on the spot. You have never desired to disappear inside the ground as much as you do now. Would that be an acceptable wish to express?

“I see,” your voice is small, your eyes unable to peel off of him now even though you desperately want to, his gaze locking you in place, entrancing with the stars shining like beacons behind them.

“But I guess there is a way for you to have sex with someone like me.” He says after a few seconds, wetting his lips quickly as he scratches his head in uncertainty.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... you could have sex with me.” He bites his bottom lip, his eyes shining with a hint of doubt you have never seen reflected inside of them and it makes your heart stutter in your chest and traps your voice inside your throat whilst you try to process what he has just said.

“Come again?” You whisper after a few seconds, the words rolling off of your tongue feeling like rocks in your mouth as you try to push them out, all heavy and rough around the edges.

Jeongguk gulps down heavily in front of you, his eyes glued on yours as he takes a step forward, forcing you to lift your head up a little to stare back at him.

“Tell me you have never thought about it.” He says, licking his lips as he steadies himself, boldness firing up his words as he slowly musters up the courage to freely speak his mind.

“Tell me you have never dreamed about me and all the things I would do to you.”

His voice seems to drop an entire octave as he presses onward, his words thick with lustiness as if he were trying to seduce you.

Your silence and the way your mouth parts to breathe in loudly seem only to fuel him forward, prompting him to take another step forward.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the sweet hint of cinnamon he’s embodied with engulfing you whole and your brain starting to get fuzzy with wanton desire.

“Tell me you have never touched yourself thinking about me, about my tongue teasing your sex, about my fingers moving in and out of you.” His voice is rough and husky and it makes your legs tremble with the tantalizing fantasies his words depict in your head.

When he takes the final step forward, all you can think about is his mouth on top of yours, his hands roaming all over you and as he takes your chin with one hand, caressing your skin as he tips your face forward, your heart drops in your chest.

“Tell me you haven’t imagined how my cock would feel like inside of you and I’ll take back my offer.”

Your mouth suddenly feels as dry as a desert, your mind reeling with the infinite possibilities nicely laid out before you—if nine months worth of wet dreams is anything to go by.

You should jump at the offer, don’t even stop for a whole second to consider it and just take it but there is that little drop of doubt squeezing your heart, making it impossible for you to blindly follow your desires.

“Do you really mean it?” You ask in a whisper, wetting your lips as you search his eyes for any hint of doubt hidden inside them, “I don’t want this unless you truly want it too.”

Jeongguk tips his head a little to the side, inhaling deeply before sighing out loud, his eyes closing for a brief second.

“I thought I had made it clear enough with my words,” he says after a moment, his hands traveling down your body to rest on your hips, slightly guiding them forward until they meet his.

You gasp out loud as you are met with his semi-erection, pressing slightly over your core so to not leave any doubts he desires you just as much as you want him.

“I don’t have to have sex with you,” he whispers, his face moving forward until your noses meet, your lips so close they almost brush against each other, “I want to.”

His warm breath caresses your face as he confesses his own desires out loud, leaving you completely speechless.

In the span of a few seconds, your whole world has been turned upside down by Jeongguk again but you do not stop wondering, you do not waste time asking yourself questions you can always get back to later on. No, as soon as the words are out, your lips are on top of his, claiming his mouth like you desperately desired to do so many times.

He gasps loudly as your hands fly to his hair to pull him down towards you, your fingers getting lost in his locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a little forward and welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

Jeongguk tastes like a summer drink: refreshing and sweet and so much more than you ever imagined or wished for.

His lips are as soft as cotton and they feel like heaven against your own, pressing and pulling on the supple flesh until you’re sighing for him, relishing in how amazing it feels to finally have him like this.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper atop his mouth, opening your eyes to fix your gaze in his shining ones.

His lips are all red, slick with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you fear you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

He touches your nose with the tip of his own, his hands engulfing your butt cheeks a little roughly, making you whimper in return.

His palms come to rest under your ass, pushing you upwards until your legs are encircling his waist and your arms are clasped behind his neck.

In this position he is the one that has to look up to you, his head bent a little to the side so he can still gaze inside your eyes.

If you thought the way Jeongguk looked at you before was heartwarming, now you are met with the raging fire summoned by his love-struck-like gaze.

He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew.

You nod your head yes, holding your breath as your eyes close for him, waiting for his mouth.

Jeongguk’s kiss is slow and delicate at first, it’s drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, and at the same time, it’s precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart hurt and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own.

It’s maddening and exciting and a little bit scary because how will you go about your life now that you actually know what it feels like to be kissed by him, held by him so tight your bodies may even merge together.

Your heart is beating like a maniac in your chest and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, ever.

And these thoughts turn you desperate, they force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own.

“I want you so much,” you whisper and in those words, there is much more than the initial layer. You want to feel him inside of you, on top of you, all around you but most importantly you want him for yourself and not just for one single night.

But you do not dare say it out loud, you do not dare taint this moment with the depth of your emotions in fear of ruining it, of shying him away. It may hurt in the long run but at least, you will have one memory you share together to go by.

Right now, he wants you just as much as you want him and maybe it’s not the same kind of desire but you’d still take everything he has to offer.

“Then take me,” he purrs out in your ear, kissing lightly the soft skin of your neck as he slowly puts you down on your own two feet again.

You wet your lips quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air as your hands immediately fly to his vest, roughly pushing it past his shoulders and then down his arms. You are completely blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his golden skin. No, not just that. You want to taste him.

Your lips attack his neck, all rough and passionate on the tender skin, blooming purple roses against it until he’s softly moaning out your name, his hands pulling you closer so that you won’t stop torturing his flesh in the best ways possible.

Jeongguk emits the most beautiful sounds your ears have ever heard. He whines and sighs and grunts for you, he closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. You can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. God, you desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him.

Your lips are scorching hot against his naked skin and he shivers as you start kissing him along the line of his clavicles, slowly moving south to his pecks and even further, to the object of your current desire: his muscular abs.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to taste the tight and firm skin and he whimpers again at the sensation, throwing his head a little backward as his fingers grasp your hair.

It feels like breaking him little by little and you can only imagine how good he will sound once your undivided attention is finally on his cock.

A wicked smile spreads on your lips as you keep kissing and licking the expanse of his abs, particularly focusing on the supple flesh around his belly button.

Your once rough kisses turn gentler as you keep inching downwards, exploring the trail of hair that leads to the treasure still concealed by his white pants. Goosebumps gather on his skin as your lips turn even softer, barely pressing over the flesh whilst your nose nuzzles forward, teasing him a little with the briefest of contacts.

You lift your gaze upwards, smiling when you find his eyes trained on you, focused on your every movement. His pupils are blown out and his hair disheveled with your previous kissing session making him look already well-fucked while you haven’t even started yet.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you move your hands behind his back, reaching for the firm curve of his ass only to grasp the golden waistband of his pants.

You slide them down slowly, your eyes taunting him as you keep studying his face, the way he bites his lips in anticipation or gulps down heavily at the prospect ahead of him.

As the soft fabric of his pants moves past the curve of his ass, consequently sliding down his legs, you watch him shudder and bite his bottom lip in foretaste and it is that sight that prompts you to look down again, seeking a glimpse at the treasure hidden between his legs.

Your breath trembles as you exhale loudly at the vision laid before your very eyes. Jeongguk's cock stands almost fully erected before you in all its glory—his underwear nowhere to be seen—ready to receive the attention it so desperately seeks.

As you stand up before him again, mouth watering with the prospect of finally having him all for your self, you offer a hand for him to grab. His fingers intertwine with your own effortlessly and it is a simple touch really, nothing to compare with the activities you have been sharing thus far but still, it makes your heart leap in your chest and a smile spread on your lips.

Without uttering a single word you slowly guide him to your bed to make him sit on the edge of your soft mattress.

His legs automatically spread nicely for you as he tilts his head upwards, looking up at you expectantly.

With a soft smile you inch forward, quickly capturing his lips with your own yet again while your left hand slides down from his neck to his pecks, your fingers slightly grazing his skin as you move southward, taunting him with your slow movements and relishing in the way his muscles start to tense more the closer you get to his sex.

He whimpers on your mouth as soon as your fingers graze the surface of his length with the softest of touches and you smirk atop his lips, rejoicing in the way he so easily reacts to your every movement.

“Someone’s a little eager,” you whisper, searching for his eyes with a little taunting smile on your lips.

“Don’t tease, please.” His voice is thick, his eyes big and staring at you in a puppy-like fashion that makes your heart hurt. How can someone be this hot and cute at the same damn time? In an instant, you want to devour him whole, make him beg you to let him cum inside of you and then let him ruin you completely in return.

You take a step forward to sit on top of his muscular right thigh, your lips so close to his mouth that your breaths start to mingle whilst you slowly rock your hips forward on top of him.

Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, slowly gliding upwards in delicate and tentative strokes that will bring him a little pleasure without the risk of you chafing him in the process.

“I want to touch you,” he whimpers out, his eyes pleading as he looks up at you.

You watch him gulp down heavily as your hips roll a little faster over his thigh, you watch his pupils dilate as your mouth opens in a sigh of pleasure given by the nice friction his toned muscles provide on your fully clothed core.

You nod your head yes in response, your breath quickened by the excitement coiling nicely in your belly and he jumps at the chance of finally putting his hands all over you.

It is such a juxtaposition for him to act this way—all needy and submitted to your desires—when only a few instants ago he was being all confident and cocky but it is also utterly endearing and new for you, at the same time.

His fingers are timid as they approach your skin, slowly infiltrating under your shirt to finally caress your flesh and burn it with his digits, imprint his passage on every inch of your body.

His touch is soft at first as he scans your entire upper body with his hands but as soon as he finds the supple curve of your uncovered tits, he turns rougher, needier.

Your hand is still taunting his cock, your thumb teasing his head ever so slightly to draw out unsteady breaths and little whimpers out of him.

You catch up the glint in his eyes as he keeps tugging on your shirt, hoping to make it ride a little higher and expose your entire chest to him, and with a silent grin, you help him get the garment off of you and give him the treat he so desperately desired to receive.

His mouth is on your chest in the span of a few seconds, his tongue playing with your nipples with the same rhythm of your hand around is now fully erected cock.

Your back arches a little for him, your mouth opening in a silent moan as the wetness of your underwear begins to uncomfortably stick to your slick sex.

You gulp down heavily as you still your hips on top of him, your tongue daring out of your mouth to lick your dry lips and slow down the rampant beating of your heart.

He looks up at you ardently as you rise on your feet again, releasing your hold on his cock just long enough for you to get rid of your sweat pants and stand before him in nothing but your very flimsy pair of white panties.

He bites down his bottom lip as he stares up at you, his arms inching forward to grasp your hips and guide you back to him so he can keep studying and mapping every crevice of your body.

He kisses your stomach, nuzzles his nose between your tits to inhale loudly the sweet scent of your skin and you shiver under him, sighing in pleasure at the simplest of touches.

“Can I ride your dick?” You ask in a breath, your eyes searching for his to gauge his response to your lewd question.

“Fuck,” he whimpers out, his eyes almost rolling back inside his head just at the thought of having you above him, fucking him to completion, “Please do.”

You push him down the mattress with your hands to quickly climb on top of him, your legs straddling his hips as you inch a little forward to capture his lips.

His hands are firm around the curve of your ass, guiding your hips up and down to create a little friction between his hard cock and your clothed sex.

The sensation of his girth between your slick lips is already enough to make you sigh for him and as you do he takes the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth and inside your mouth. The kiss is scorching hot, it leaves you breathless and desperate to finally feel him inside of you and as soon as one of his hands is between your legs, you turn a whimpering mess for him.

He pushes your panties to the side and if the lewd sound your underwear emits as he pushes it away from your sex is anything to go by, you must be soaking wet at this point.

He inhales sharply atop your lips, cutting the kiss short so that he can focus on the little bundle of nerves between your legs.

You have been dreaming about his hands for literal months and yet they feel like nothing you have experienced before.

His little circular motions are slow and deep and they make your stomach contract in waves of pleasure.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you moan his name and he attaches his mouth to the base of your neck to suck on the tender flesh and tint it a dark shade of purple.

A sob escapes your mouth as he pushes a finger inside of you, stretching your walls with its dragged out circular motions in and out of your core.

Jeongguk may have looked like a needy sub up to this point but there is no doubt he really knows what he is doing.

He finds your pleasure spots with utter ease and he is not afraid to hit on them with sheer precision to draw all the beautiful sounds out of your mouth.

“I want to fuck you,” you whimper out after a while and he chuckles a little, quickly retrieving his exploring fingers from inside of you.

As he pushes his back on the mattress again his expectant eyes focus on you anew, a little smirk on his mouth.

You visibly shiver as he brings his coated finger to his lips and sucks on the slick digit.

You lick your lips a few times as you watch his tongue dart out of his mouth to keep licking his finger in a lewd depiction of what he would do if that were to be your sex instead of his own digit.

Fire seems to be burning inside of you as you hastily remove your underwear and align your core to his turgid cock, eager to finally feel him inside of you.

Your hand grips his shaft by the balls, keeping it perfectly still as you gradually sink onto him, welcoming him past your slick walls.

He inhales loudly, closing his eyes as you slowly keep pushing yourself down, meeting his cock to its fullest potential until he is completely lodged inside of you, stretching your walls in a blissful way that makes you sigh in pleasure.

You stay perfectly still for a few second, willing your core to relax and adjust to the intrusion of his girth while your left hand reaches behind your back to squeeze his balls and add pleasure to the feeling of your walls slightly contracting all around him.

He hisses at the new sensation, biting his bottom lip to gulp down the heavenly sounds you love to hear from him and you retaliate by squeezing him harder, almost painfully so, until he is forced to cry out loud.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper into his ear as you lean forward to steal another kiss from him, “I want to hear you scream.”

Jeongguk whines at your words, his bottom lip protruding forward into a little pout as he stares right inside your eyes.

“Fuck me,” he whimpers out, his hips slightly rotating against your own in his desperate search for some friction, “Please.”

Your eyes almost roll back inside your head at the needy tone his words are laced with. All the power he has bestowed upon you is making you dizzy, mad with the desire of taunting him until he breaks and begs for more.

You lift your hips a little and then roughly sink onto him again, relishing in the sound of your ass cheeks smacking his thighs and balls in the process.

Tilting your head a little backward you start rolling your hips forward for him, your bottom lip trapped under your teeth and your hands roughly grasping the soft skin of your breasts.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispers as he looks up at you and the way you keep taunting him with your hands roaming all over your own body, with the little sighs of ecstasy you emit every time he exhales loudly in pleasure.

Resting your palms onto his pecs to keep yourself balanced, you readjust your pace to a rather rough and bruising one that has you whimpering and sighing for his heavenly cock, for the way it seems to be getting even bigger as time progresses and pleasure arises inside both of you.

Soon enough your room is filled with the lewd sounds of skin smacking on skin, of deep moans and low grunts, of lips desperately searching and finding each other in the blindness of desire.

“Ugh, you take my cock so well.”

Jeongguk is breathing fast beneath you, his sighs turning into full out high-pitched moans that make your insides clench with arousal. Every single one of his words or needy sounds works as fuel for the fire burning between your legs and it makes you even more eager to make him burst inside of you and come all over him in return.

“Am I living up to your dreams?” He asks after a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he searches the answer inside your eyes.

“Yes, you are, ugh, you feel so good Gukie.”

The little nickname seems to work wonders on him as he grunts in response, his hands almost turning bruising around your hips as he starts guiding them down, forcing you to pick up your pace a little more.

“Harder, fuck me harder.” He pleads, closing his eyes while his mouth opens to form a silent ‘O’, the only inkling of the deep pleasure you are giving him he seems capable of showing right now.

You lift yourself up a little higher to plant your feet on the mattress and sink into him harder just like he asked for, desperate to please him and be pleased at the same time.

Jeongguk’s breaths turn even louder—his diaphragm contracting madly beneath you— his sobs a little bit more desperate as his orgasm draws nearer and nearer by the second.

“Aww, faster baby, please.”

His nails start digging the soft flesh of your ass and you whimper at both the pain and the pleasure the roughness provides, his hips start rocking upwards to try and fasten up your pace by meeting you halfway and bring himself over the edge.

The battering speed inside your pussy is heart-stopping, the head of his cock reaching your G spot with utter precision is absolutely devastating and it has you whimpering for him in a matter of seconds.

Your walls madly contract around him, squeezing him even tighter and making it almost impossible for him to resist any longer.

“Are you going to soil my pretty cock, uh?” He asks in a whine, his eyes searching for yours as he realizes your orgasm is as close as his very own.

“Yeah, oh-shit, I’m-I’m gonna cum all over you, Gukie.”

He growls at your words and you roll your hips even faster in response, chasing your release so desperately it almost hurts.

“Are you going to fill my pussy up?” You ask in a breath, mirroring his own question as you feel the wave of pleasure rushing from your head down to your core.

As your walls start to spasmodically contract all around him you feel him getting stiff beneath you, his breath getting caught in his lungs with the depth of his pleasure finally exploding in and out of him.

“Aww, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.” His deep moan is followed by the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you in unison to the spasms of your core and the one of his release milking your insides with generous spurts of white nectar.

By the time you both come down from your highs you are sprawled all over his body, his soft cock lying between your stomachs as you rest your head above his heaving chest, your legs nicely mingled together.

“That was mind-blowing,” you whisper making him chuckle as he encircles your frame with his strong arms.

His gaze is warm now, softer, and it makes you wish to stay like this for the rest of your lifetimes.

“Jeonggukie?” You ask in a whisper, making him tilt his head to the side with a questioning look on his face.

“I want to make another wish,” you confess, blood rushing all to your head as you tilt it upwards to stare back at him.

“Tell me,” his right hand comes to rest on your cheek, slightly guiding your face forward to place a tender kiss atop your lips.

“I want to have sex with you again.”

“When?” He breaths out, not a single hint of hesitation in his voice, signaling you he wants it just as much as you do.

“Now.”

“Your every wish is my command,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging on his lips as you lift yourself up and slowly make your descent towards his soft cock.

There has been this desire stuck in your mind ever since you undressed him and as you come to a halt between his legs, Jeongguk is made aware of your lewd intentions rather quickly.

His sex is covered in both your juices and a few drops of his own cum. To you, it looks like an absolute feast.

You lick your lips expectantly, pointing your eyes on his face as you open up your mouth to let your tongue do the trick.

You lap at his warm skin to gather up all the spilled remnants of your orgasms and he visibly shudders at the sensation of your scratchy muscle working on his flesh.

Jeongguk closes his eyes as you come closer and closer to his cock, already foretasting the moment your lips will close around it and work it to hardness anew.

You take your long-ass-time though, opting for a rather teasing pace and kitten licks that make him tremble and whine in annoyance when you keep getting so close to his sex while remaining so impossibly away from it.

“You really are a tease,” he mumbles under his breath, his head tilted forward so he can stare at you as you giggle in response.

“And you really are impatient, Gukie.” He shivers at your words and you tilt your head to the side, a playful smile tugging on your lips as you study his features.

“Do you like that? Me calling you Gukie?”

He hums in response, biting his bottom lip as if in deep thought and maybe he is, trying to decide whether he should elaborate on the reason why or not.

Either way, he doesn’t really get a chance to add on it because your mouth is all around him in an instant and he has a hard time breathing all of a sudden.

He whimpers a little as you suck on his soft flesh, your mouth slurping him loudly as if you were sucking on a candy.

“Ah! Damn.”

His abs contract as you suck on him a little bit harder, coaxing his dick to a new erection.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to swiftly lick his head as you pointedly look up at him to study all the little twists on his features, learning what he likes and what he doesn’t.

Your left hand reaches between his legs to squeeze his balls and he whines as you do so, his eyes rolling back inside his head.

You can feel his cock hardening as you lick a long stripe from the base of his length up to his head again.

“You taste so good, Gukie.”

You mumble on top of his reddened flesh before engulfing him completely in your mouth again. Your jaw is slack and your cheeks are hollowed as you suck on him as hard as you can, closing your eyes to hum as his flavor invades your taste buds.

His hands come to grasp your hair, locking you in place above his cock, begging you to not stop anytime soon.

You let him guide your head, adjust your bobbing to his preferred pace and bask in the sighs of ecstasy that come out from his mouth, especially the ones that sound a lot like your name.

“Wait-” he whines after a while, his hands leaving your head to grasp the bed sheets, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay, “Wait or I’ll come in your mouth.”

You consider pushing forward, bring him to his knees and let him fill up your mouth, feeling his essence coil down your throat and invade your belly but, in the end, you lift your head up and with a lewd pop, you leave his cock alone to stand perfectly tall before you, glistening with your saliva.

“How are you so good at sucking cocks?” He mumbles, more to himself than to you but you still giggle in response, quirking your eyebrows at him.

“I’m a natural talent,” you reply before tauntingly licking your lips. ‘Talent and lots of experience here at college, actually,’ but he doesn’t really need to know that, does he?

“Can I try something, though?” You ask biting your bottom lip in uncertainty. There are plenty of things you have never tried before but have been dying to for a while now and Jeongguk makes you want to explore all of them, all at the same time.

“Anything,” he promptly replies, his eagerness so endearing you can’t help but giggle again. Who knew Jeongguk had this much cuteness in him? Surely you had no idea prior to this very night.

You slowly roll off the bed, your knees hitting the ground as you drag him with you to the edge of the mattress again.

Jeongguk’s gaze is fixed on you, curiosity shining in his pupils as he studies your every movement, eager to discover what exactly you have in store for him.

You arch your back a little to align your chest to his erected cock standing tall in front of you, ready to be the center of your undivided attention again.

Your hands start caressing your breasts, bringing them together to squeeze his sex between them and give it a nice deep stroke.

Jeongguk’s breath trembles, his body shuddering at the new sensation and you look up at him earnestly, trying to adjust your pace to something that will bring him real pleasure.

You tilt your head a little forward as you gather some saliva in your mouth to coat his cock with in the absence of lube.

Jeongguk seems to find the visual particularly exciting as he grunts at the image depicted before him.

A smile spreads on your lips as a new idea surfaces in your mind, then.

You spread your legs a little further to stabilize yourself on the ground while bending your neck all the way forward, ready to welcome the head of his cock inside your mouth with each passing stroke of your tits.

"Oh, fuck." Jeongguk's high-pitched whine encourages you further, prompting you to set on a pace that is bound to make him crumble in the span of a few minutes.

Maybe it's because you told him not to hold back earlier or maybe he is just incapable of gulping down all of his lovely sounds but, yet again, Jeongguk is turned into a whimpering and moaning mess and each one of his little mewls makes your walls contract on thin air.

You unconsciously start bringing your legs closer to rub your thighs against each other, hopelessly seeking for a little friction on your neglected core.

Your arousal is dripping down your sex, coiling in big rivulets on your inner thighs, making them slick and slippery.

"I'm-" Jeongguk wets his dry lips, his pants already giving away what he is trying to say but you do play innocent, pretending not to know what exactly you are doing to him.

"Do you want me to come like this?" He asks in a breath, his hands fisting the covers while the muscles of his thighs contract in the effort of keeping himself steady.

Your mouth turns a little rougher on the head of his cock, your silence perfectly proving your point.

"I-ah! I want to make one of your wet dreams r-real" He confesses in a whine, his eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing with the incessant waves of pleasure that keep rushing over his body, menacing to bring him down.

"Is this what you dreamt of? Me coming in your mouth like this?"

You slow down your movements, your mouth leaving his cock again as you ponder his words. The answer would be no, actually. You had never dreamed about doing this with him and despite the excitement of the act, you do have to admit that what he is offering right now sounds far more tempting.

"Not exactly," you confess, your voice a little hoarse.

"Tell me," his voice suddenly turns sharp, losing all the needy and sweet tone he stuck with for the rest of the night and transforming into something more demanding.

You can't help but shiver at his sudden character switch and he is quick to catch up on it, to the way you instantly start biting down your bottom lip at his words.

His once gentle hands turn hard on your body as he lifts you up only to roughly throw you on the bed.

He climbs on top of you with no hesitation, fire burning in his eyes as he kisses your lips with a new-found fervor.

You whimper in the kiss, your fingers grasping his sweaty locks of hair to pull him even closer and feel his erection pressed atop your core.

"You like it a little rough, don't you?" He asks, his voice husky as he puts a hand around your neck, slightly pressing over your carotid to cut down the oxygen income.

"I-I do," you reply, your bottom lip trembling with excitement as he rolls his hips on top of yours.

This Jeongguk is the one that has been haunting your dreams ever since you met him but, after discovering his other side too you find yourself unable to decide which side you actually prefer: the one that likes to be teased, tortured and submitted or the one that loves to be rough, dominate and break his partner.

He pries your legs open with his hands, his mouth sliding down your neck so he can bite the tender flesh and leave his mark there, in plain sight.

The pain is sharp for a second, making you yelp, but as warmth spreads over your skin it is quickly subdued by pleasure and the feeling of his tongue lapping the battered skin.

Jeongguk slides his cock inside of you with one swift movement right in that moment and you whimper at the sudden feeling of being filled again by his rock-hard length.

Your eyes close as he keeps pushing deeper inside of you, seemingly only satisfied when he is completely lodged inside of you and ready to fuck your brains out.

Jeongguk's strokes are slow, dragged out to the point it makes you want to scream in frustration. He almost slides his cock completely out of you and then slams it right back in with one single stroke, making you jump as he hits the perfect spot with maddening precision.

You know he is doing this on purpose to get back to you and make you beg for it just like you did with him. Still, you don't give him the satisfaction of bringing you over the edge this easily, this quickly.

You endure it, closing your eyes and grasping the crumpled bed covers, biting your bottom lip to hide any sign of both pleasure and frustration.

"You want to play though, uh?" He asks as he fists your hair, forcing your head to lift off the bed and directly face him, "Two can play this game, baby."

A wicked smirk appears on his features making you shiver in anticipation, his eyes glinting with mischief as he lets go of your head only to focus on his cock, slowly moving in and out of your slick core.

His hands find purchase under your ribs, guiding you forward until your legs are resting on his shoulders and he has complete access to your sex.

With the new position, he wastes absolutely no time to slam inside of you with all the strength he is capable of, instantly making you mewl in pleasure.

You try to bite your bottom lip again, you try to gulp down all the sounds you want to emit out loud but as he starts pounding inside of you, it proves to be an impossible task.

The taste of blood fills your mouth as the tender flesh breaks under the vise of your own teeth and you are forced to let go of the poor battered flesh, consequently giving up your resolve of not showing him how much you are enjoying this change of scenario.

Without a force helping you contain your moans, they flood out of you like water from a broken dike and they quickly fill the room alongside his grunts and the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin.

He pushes himself forward, bringing your legs with him so that you are almost folded in half, unable to escape his bruising pace inside of you.

"Jeongguk," you whimper out for him, your eyes searching his dark pools as your chest starts to heave with your panting breaths.

He rolls his hips harder into you in response, making your eyes roll back inside your head, your jaw turning slack as your mouth opens in a silent moan of pleasure.

You feel your walls starting to spasm, your legs quivering a little with your incumbent release and you start to fear he might retreat, edge you and denial your orgasm in order to make you cry out loud and beg him to let you come but what he does, instead, is roll his hips faster and throw you over that edge completely.

Your ears start ringing as the orgasm fully takes over your thoughts, blanketing them with white cotton.

His cock still hammers inside of you, milking your orgasm incessantly, ready to throw you back into it as soon as it seems like it has washed out of you.

It almost feels like too much having him still inside you like this, battering your pleasure spot so tirelessly but the slight discomfort gets washed away by bliss again in the span of a few seconds.

"Fuuuck," you whimper out, the word dragged out by your ragged breath.

His mouth finds yours again at this moment, ready to completely steal your breath away and leave you absolutely breathless.

Slowly, he draws a little backward, allowing your legs to fall on top of his as he repositions himself, turning you a little to the side so that he can rest right behind you.

You immediately turn your head behind your back, eager to keep your eyes on him and watch him come inside of you for the second time tonight. You do not want to miss a single twist in his features as he keeps fucking you like this.

His hands keep you firmly in place as he resumes his pace inside of you, effort and arousal painted all over his features as he chases his own release.

Even when he is being rough like this, bent on breaking you into pieces, he is letting out those heavenly sounds that captivated you in the first place tonight.

They are absolutely intoxicating, they ring like music to your ears and if you could hear a single sound for the rest of your life it would be exactly this: his moans and the sound of your name on his lips.

You can sense his orgasm nearing by the way his hips start losing their perfect pattern, by the way his breath is hitting your ear more rapidly and by how more high-pitched his moans are turning as time progress.

You purposefully contract your walls around him, making him grunt at the sensation, giving him that slight more push towards the verge of his release.

One of his hands lets go of your hip to travel forward, his fingers quickly finding your clit to draw large and deep circles over the bundle of nerves to bring you over the finish line in unison with him again.

The arousing sensation makes it hard for you to stop your hips from eagerly rolling onto his, following the movement of both his hand on your sex and his cock inside of you.

He comes inside of you with a low and deep moan that makes your walls contract and your mouth moan loudly for him in return.

Your body quivers for the third time tonight before turning into absolute jelly, shutting down in defeat.

Silence engulfs you whole and for a moment you think you may actually drift off to sleep like this, with the warmth of Jeongguk's body behind you and the reassurance of his presence by your side.

It is actually him that stirs you back into consciousness, bringing you closer to his chest so that his lips can brush against your ear.

"Was that how dream-Jeongguk did it?" He asks, chuckling a little over his own question.

You turn inside his embrace so that you can face him and shake your head no with a little smile on your lips.

"No, this Jeongguk is actually better."

His smile is full of pride as he steals a quick kiss from your mouth.

It is so endearing to watch him get back to his more cute side but again, it makes your heart hurt. As you rest like this, looking up at him, the misery of your situation awakens back inside of you.

There is no doubt by now that you have feelings for this boy right here, very big ones at that, and it is something clearly impossible, something you have to forget and pretend like it never existed.

It is with that fear of tomorrow in mind that you open up your mouth again, your eyes shining with the menace of tears.

Jeongguk seems to read your mind again tonight as he quickly presses his finger on top of your mouth.

"Don't. Don't say it."

His eyes turn serious as he stares down at you, all warmth and banter quickly disappearing from his features.

"Don't waste your last wish on me." He adds, his voice thick with emotion as he gulps down heavily, almost as if he were fighting against tears himself.

"Once your last wish is fulfilled I'll have to go back inside the lamp and we will never get to see each other again."

You nod your head a little because he has already explained this to you, yet, you still want to make another wish, extend this moment for as long as possible, rejoice in it while it lasts.

Jeongguk shakes his head no a few times, hugging you closer as if afraid you'd disappear in front of him when, actually, it would be him turning into a teal fog before your very eyes, leaving you alone to deal with a broken heart.

"There is no need to make a wish when I'd gladly stay here with you for as long as you'll want me to."

His left hand caresses your head lovingly, his eyes pleading you to let him finish, to not shatter this moment and turn it into your last one together.

"And I'll gladly make love to you whenever you want to and not because a wish binds us together, but because I want it too."

Before you know it, there are tears falling on your cheeks, turning your vision hazy as the real meaning behind his words finally hits you.

All this time, you had no idea. You didn't know that his eyes were always on you because he couldn't look away; you didn't know that he kept asking about your wishes not because he wanted to move on but because he was afraid of doing so; you didn't know that when he was granting you that first wish he was actually granting himself his own.

"Don't cry," he whispers on your lips, his thumbs drying your hot skin as a smile finally spreads on your lips.

It is happy tears that keep flooding from your eyes because it feels like a dream, a fantasy you'll have to wake up from eventually but it is not. Not this time.

And tonight, Jeongguk makes you his again but this time it is slow, gentle and sweet; this time he keeps whispering loving words inside your ears and kissing your lips to steal away all your beautiful whimpers and make them his own. This time, as you come together in each other's embrace, there is more than passion shining in your eyes. There is love.

Copyright © 2019 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved.

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Ten

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When I was younger, probably around fourteen, I had an epiphany. Up until this point, I had always believed that when something good was meant to come my way, it would be permanent. I hadn’t thought much about romantic relationships, but once I figured out what they were exactly, it was easier to imagine eventually finding a sort of mate that stays for life. In fact, it became easier to imagine that practically all good things would stay for life.

I thought that the best part of my life was ahead of me, and that it would be filled with beautiful scenery and no issues whatsoever. Sort of like a straight line- one without the curves of issues and troubles. Like paradise was going to last forever.

But then I realized how wrong I was. It was just as sudden as the popping of a bubble, and I indeed spent a while after crying. I’d never felt so weak. Curled up in a ball on the top bunk of my Bracca bed, I sobbed. Skinny little thing, fresh with cuts from my new job, paling from the lack of sunlight on the system. Cal wasn’t there to know, but I can clearly remember wishing he were present so I could request comfort.

The day of the epiphany, I was working on taking apart a Jedi fighter. They’re not commonly found, so the parts are worth a lot of money. The other workers assigned to it had taken off in favor of getting some drinks, as the credits we made would be divided equally. I stayed purely because I hated looking at the ship all together, and ripping it up felt nice enough.

Maker, I hate the Jedi.

But I was taking the fighter apart methodically when something caught my attention. The sound had raised over the music blaring through my headset, making even the thunder coming from the sky above seem quiet. Still, my eyes follow the sound of the voices until I’m turned all the way to my right, and looking at the origin.

Through the sheets of pouring rain and the flashes of lightning, I can make out two scrappers at the end of the platform. I can’t see their faces, but I can see that one is far larger than the other. The smaller one is roaring over the rain, attempting to puff themselves up to make them look more threatening. I shake my head and turn back to my work. Arguments happen all the time.

But the argument didn’t just end. There’s a clang that makes me look over. The rain slams against the hood of my poncho, dripping into my eyelashes. The smaller of the two braces himself against the metal railing that serves as the only thing keeping them from falling to their death. There’s a second of stillness, before the scrapper shows his offense by pushing his much larger comrade.

The huge bulk of muscle doesn’t even flinch. But I can feel his anger growing inside of him the way it does to a Reek before it’s set loose. The rage swarms through his body and congregates around his brain- effectively clouding his judgement. Or maybe it made his judgement far more clear. Whatever the case, he’s the one who gets to deal the final blow.

The scrapper shoves the smaller one. They lose their balance quickly, tipping over the railing before completely hurtling over. They disappear out of my line of sight, but I can imagine their body disappearing into the fog below.

I’m still for a few seconds, watching the behemoth of a man heave his chest. I’m sure if I stood up beside him, he would be at least two feet above my head. His feet must be the size of my abdomen. And his eyes… when they turn to look at me, there’s a flash of both snow and lava.

Under his hood, his head turns to look at me. I can see the glittering orbs crackle coldly as he searches my own. It’s a silent fury, and it takes me a few moments to realize that he’s threatening me without speaking.

His threat is simple: if you attempt to defy me, I will strike you down too.

My brain begins to race. My knees, although bent as I crouch, have begun to rise into the standing position. Despite the man’s threat, the humanity in me is begging me to do something about this. He just killed someone. Murdered. I have to apprehend him! Avenge their death!

But then I think: why would I do that?

Scrappers fall from heights all the time. It’s not uncommon. Most scrappers don’t have friends or families. In fact, you could argue that once one joins the Scrapper’s Guild, their life loses all meaning. The only reason left for them to live is work. Maybe death would be kinder. And let’s assume I did try to get revenge. The perpetrator is too big for me to overtake, and I can’t use the Force for fear of being caught. If I turned him in, administration would probably forget about him long before he kills me. So what good would it do? I can’t bring the other scrapper back to life. I can’t change what’s already been done. Perhaps it’s better to accept it and move on.

It was.  

I put my headphone back against my ear, bent my legs, and went back to work. I didn’t mean the large man’s eyes again, even when he continued to watch me hauntingly for moments after. I didn’t tell any administrator what I’d seen. I never mentioned it to Cal. I never told a single soul about it, except whatever higher power I was speaking to in the chapel- though, they hadn’t answered me.

I can’t explain why, but I felt very sad for the rest of the week. I felt guilty, and the guilt had solidified into a glorified weight in the pit of my stomach. My mind was stronger than anything else I’d ever had, but my body had been easier to corrupt than I’d anticipated. My feelings were weak, whether they were born out of my own consequential actions or not.

But during all this, I realized that nothing good is permanent. Anything that I hold dear will fade away. Anything that I appreciate will die. It could be sudden or slow, but it doesn’t matter. And while the golden things leave, the shadow of the dark things will always stay. Through it all the will linger, whether I’m high or low. I guess, in a way, it was like realizing that the closest thing I’d ever have to a partner was my own pain.

I feel like I’m having this realization all over again now.

I’m not sure why it feels this way.  I’ve just inhaled about a pound of glitteryll, so I should be feeling like I’m on top of the galaxy. Instead, I lay on the floor of Hondo’s ship, floating through space without direction or aim, trying not to feel like someone’s hands are on me.

Hondo’s ship ran out of fuel rather quickly. I went into hyperspace for about three seconds before being pulled out of it do to lack of gas. Hondo must be laughing in the sand right about now. It’s my own fault for not finding a way to observe the tank before taking off.

The metal floor is uncomfortable against the back of my head, and my braid feels sort of clumped together. Pieces of my bangs are spread across my forehead, lazily covering my eyes. I push the strands away, then smear the beads of sweat across my face with my palm in a weak attempt to wipe it away. As I do so, I can feel the sharpness of my jaw, the weird way my cheekbones angle themselves.

Oh, Maker. I’m so kriffed right now.

I’ve never liked my face much. It’s not that it’s ugly, or inherently bad, but it’s got more going on then other faces. It’s so… unique. High cheekbones, square jaw, a small chin but prominent chin. My eyes are dragged up at the corners like a cat, though they’re rung with dark circles and old makeup that seems to drag them back down tiredly. The tip of my nose is shaped like a button, but the bridge is narrow. Straight eyebrows with a bit of an arch, with tope freckles dotting my face. My lips My skin is somewhere between pale and tanned, the shade of an olive. If I focus too much on my eyes when I look in the mirror, they seem to become way to intricate. Hazel at a distance, but borderline fern green up close.

So many flecks in my irises, all different colors and shades of emerald. Some lean more towards a golden color, others a dark aqua. And, Maker help me, when I look at them while on drugs, it’s like looking into a new kriffing dimension. It makes me feel like I have that whole dimension trapped inside of me, whirring around like wisps in my brain.

In other words, looking into my eyes while I’m on drugs makes me feel powerful.

But now I feel weak. I feel overly skinny and empty. Not really hungry, but like there’s a bit of an empty void in my stomach. Maybe there’s a black hole growing right inside of me? Should I… should I cut open into my stomach just to make sure? I should, right?

No- and don’t ever do that. Not even to be sure.

Still, coming to this conclusion does nothing to help the feeling of discomfort. It’s not really a physical thing, just a mental thing. I don’t want to keep my eyes open, because the light above makes my lids feel strained. I don’t want to close them, because then I can see memories of things I wish never happened. Things I’m not really ready to confront yet.

It comes in flashes. In my dreams, or when I space out too much. It’s essentially the only type of thought I mind getting lost in. I can see flashes of gold on a white canvas, hear the igniting of a lightsaber, and smell Talik’s overly sweet scent as she looms over me. I can sense the half real pressure of fingertips gripping my hips, causing my toes to curl uncomfortably. And then someone distant tells me I’m doing a good job, and I whimper out in discomfort.

I shoot up from my lying down position, my chest rising and falling with my rapid heartbeat. The sweat I previously wiped from my brow has now returned, along with goosebumps along my arms. I can feel my knees shaking and trembling weakly, and my neck muscles tense and stretch.

The thing about my trauma, was that I didn’t even think it existed. I thought there was no way what happened was real, and that if it was it was my probably my fault anyway. Because I’m a bad person, and bad people deserve to get bad things happening to them- even though it doesn’t most of the time.

In a less wordy way of speaking, I was having a bad trip. Maybe the spice I took was too strong or something. Or maybe it was just a gamble that I lost. But as I told myself it was a bad trip over and over, my body began to curl up into a ball. I hug my knees close to my chest and put my hot face in between them in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

I’m a factual person. I like facts. Sometimes I’ll list them over again in my brain when I’m feeling this way so I can sort out what I know head on. For example, my name is Keres Vagor. I don’t remember my parents. I’ve lived on Coruscant, Ilum, Bracca, Zeffo, and Tatooine, but Ilum was my favorite. In my opinion, nothing beats the view of the snowy mountains. This means I’m not really much of a fan of the heat, but I suppose everyone says that until they’re freezing to death.

I hate the Jedi. They’re flawed and egotistical, and I should’ve been one of them. But they left me to fend for myself because of their own lazy cowardice. While I don’t really like the idea of the Sith, I’d rather be one of them than the latter. I mean, I’m already on my way there.

Laying the facts out for myself does nothing. My throat feels like it’s somehow shrinking, keeping me from getting a nice, full breath. I feel like someone’s watching me, too. Did the ship get smaller?

Well, maybe there’s something else I can trust in to give me the facts.

My left hand slips into the nearest jacket pocket, fumbling around clumsily. I grasp the little black book and pull it out, ignoring the dried blood splattered across a few pages. Maker, I nearly died for this thing. And such a little thing it is.

Turning the book open, I find it easier to inhale the scent of the pages. I can feel their age, their thinness that threatens to give me a papercut. On the inside of the front cover, I’m able to read out the words that bring me some semblance of both joy and panic. Property of Garreth A. Vaughn.

I wonder how old he was when he died. He looked older than me at least. He would still be alive if not for me. This makes me feel queasy. I know I’ve killed people before, but I actually meant to. I never intended for Garreth to lose his life in my quest for freedom. But I suppose I never intended for Mur or Jarvers to lose their lives either. I guess there’s been a lot of things I didn’t intend.

I flip to the next page, soaking in Garreth’s pretty handwriting. Kind of slanted, but steady and thin. The first few pages date back to nearly three years ago. He mentions how he’s been drafted into the Empire, and how he was trapped in a Separatist organization as a child. He ends the section on a hopeful note however- writing, “maybe I’ll actually get saved this time.” I guess he didn’t.

After that, I find the facts I’m looking for. There are names of accomplished generals and officers and projects. Officer Krane is apparently responsible for whatever happened on Zeffo. Someone named Tarkin is apparently doing well for themselves. Maker, I hate that name. At least have some flow- like Keres.

Eventually I flip to the page that would change everything. I don’t want to give away how, but let’s just say it wasn’t for the better.

          “List of Ships and Importance:”

Yeah, because things are always better when people give ships the power of something important.

          “Executor- General V’s main ship. Executor-Class Star Dreadnought. 5,000+ cannons and blasters.

          Maker’s Thrall- Captain Lorth Needa. Executor-Class Dreadnought. 4,500+ cannons.

-         One of highest cannon counts

-         Second Invasion of Naboo, Alderaan, Onderaan, Endor

-         Fuel stop at Mustafar (base)”

Everything else is unimportant to you. I continued to look through the journal, going over all the little details of the Empire until I can’t hear my heart beating in my ears anymore.

Honestly, I can respect the structure of the Empire. I bet I’d make a good member if I really cared. Looking down at Garreth’s journal has shown me that there’s so many layers to appreciate. It’s like opening up a droid or any other mechanical structure. Now I can see how it’s made and take all the work in.

Eventually, I put the book back down on the ground. Then I stretch out my limbs one at a time, arch my back and listening to all the joints pop. Then an amazing idea comes into my brilliant brain.

What if I could make my two lightsabers into one?

Detaching both cylinders from my waist, I hold them in my hands. I can already imagine the work now. I can take off the pommels of each body, and cauterize each end somehow. Maybe then I can make them each into seals that twist back together? Yes, yes I can see it now. The only thing I need is tools, and there must be some somewhere.

I push myself off the floor, rolling the lightsabers over my palms. The bronze colored blue one is heavier than the other, which I’m not fully certain I like. I furrow my eyebrows together as I stare down at it, imagining the blue color crystal clear.

Everybody likes blue. I can’t count how many people have said it’s their favorite color to me. The more I think about it, the more the very thought of the color makes me sick. Can one be any more unoriginal? At least the green brings me some bit of peace. It reminds me of nature and planning. Blue reminds me of something too bold and stupid.

A sneer crosses my features as my finger flickers over it’s switch. Sure enough, a long, blue blade ignites into the air, cutting through everything in the background. Maker, I do hate this color.

I’ve seen so many Jedi with blue lightsabers. I suppose the color fits them- they’re disguised as something wonderful and cool when they’re just obnoxious. Not to say that a color is too good for people- that’s ridiculous. But the Jedi? Oh, they’re too good for everyone. How many people have lost their lives for something the Jedi find justified? What makes them so certain they’re the ones who should be doing the justifying? They were the ones who were supposed to protect the Republic anyone- not let it be corrupted under their very noses. How pathetic.

Are they pathetic? Or am I? I’m the one who’s thought about my despise for them nearly every day the past three years. No- more than that. Since I was born. I’ve thought about how much I hate the Jedi for almost seventeen years, and I’m still not over it.

This brings me to a new question. Am I the one thinking all these things at the moment, or is it the bunch of spice I just took?

And, before my very eyes, the blue lightsaber begins to bleed.

Not literally, of course. But it’s changing in color. Red, passionate ink swirls around the blade like it was injected. The glow changes from crisp blue to hot magenta, then into a deep shade of flame. In a silent moment, the lightsaber blade goes ruby with anger.

I can’t explain it. To this day, I’m not actually fully sure how I did this. Adamus would end up telling me a bit about it, but it would’ve explain everything.

It was like the lightsaber was… bleeding. It looked a lot like what would happen when one puts a drop of red dye in a cup of water. Swirling around in all different shades of sanguine before settling in an even tone. I could feel the anger radiating to the beat of my pulse even from inside the hilt. And as I watched with wide eyes and an agape mouth, all the light in the ship seemed to fade away, until the red was all that remained.

The blue died and gave way to its successor, which I felt far more comfortable with despite the threatening nature. The red was more powerful, and I quickly realized that I liked the feeling of power. Which was strange since I’d never cared for it in the past. Though I suppose that was because I hadn’t had to think of it much before. Now, I’m holding a weapon of those who seek power in my hand. The metal is touching my skin. And it’s mine. I killed a Jedi and stole this from him. I bested him. Who else could I best now that I’m recognizing my full potential? Why should I dismiss myself?

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I listen to my heartbeat fade out. My nerves are finally calming. My malice is slowly washing away, though the appreciation of the Sith saber remains. In my shock of whatever I had just done to change the color of my lightsaber, my free hand reaches out to dance in the crimson light.

That’s when things got weird.

For a second, my slender fingers are tinged with scarlet. I watch them, confirming over and over again that yes, the color is real. I did it. I somehow changed the color of my crystal. But how? And why? I hadn’t intended to. But I also didn’t intend what happens next.

It’s small at first. It’s just a little blue spark between my fingertips. It evaporates quickly, only to be replaced by another current. Like little fragments of lightening trying to be a spiderweb. I watch the second current grow with a quiet hum, and my eyes widen. I can feel the nerves like fire in my arms, spreading to my chest. When I feel it touch my heart just enough to bruise it, something explodes.

The electric charge becomes a branch. One long spike of lightning, complete with tiny arms in every direction, clashes against the red beam in my other hand. Deflecting off of that, it bounces against the metal walls of the ship in an indigo ray of light. And just for a brief moment, it’s the most brilliant spectacle to behold.

It’s a flash of all shades of blue and purple and white, blending together in a dizzying array. Despite the terror that suddenness, it’s beautiful. It’s not like the blue I hate so much. It’s deeper than that. It’s independent of all colors, which is something I’ve always tried to find. I doesn’t take long for me to fall in love with the view.

But the second ends as quickly as it began. I shoot back from the force, the red blade shutting off in the process. I feel the energy slip out of my fingers like water pouring from a pitcher. My back skids against the floor until I lay against the wall with a thrumming head and shoulders.

So, what the kriff just happened.

I made a Sith lightsaber. Then I shot lightning out my fingers. I did not intend to practice either. I know, at least, that my head hurts. There’s a dull ache in my  bones from the energy of using what I assume was the Force. I might’ve injured my skull when I flew back. I definitely injured my back and neck area. To what extent is unknown.

I’m exhausted. The metal floor has never been comfier than this moment. It reminds me a bit of the metal I would climb onto on Bracca. If it were raining in Hondo’s ship, it would be just like the floor the day I let that scrapper die.

I don’t remember passing out. I don’t remember them coming in. I only remember longing for another hit of glitteryll before I passed on into a state of unconsciousness.

[swimmingnewsie]

Of Coffee and Cookies (Chapter 12)

Hey guys, major trigger warnings for gun violence and domestic violence in this chapter. Take care of yourself first, I promise I won’t be upset. Your mental health takes priority to this angst fest.

Major props to @writetheniteaway for helping with the legal aspects and previous chapters. Give her work a look sometime. She’s one of my best friends and favorite writers. If you like the angst I write, she gives me a run for my money so please check her out!

On with the show

Link to AO3 

---

Anna felt as though she were going to crawl out of her skin. They had only been in the courtroom for fifteen minutes but she felt Hans’ glaring eyes on her the whole time. Even in her dress pants and long shirt, she felt exposed. She wanted to cry, but to cry would be to show weakness.

She closed her eyes tight for a second, wishing her sister had been allowed to sit with her instead of behind her in the gallery. Her attorney was giving their opening statement, including as many of the criminal related facts he could. It was hard to hear about that night, no matter how many times she had been forced to tell the tale or how many times the attorney said it out loud. Her therapist said it would get a little easier each time, and that in telling her story, she would gain a sense of agency.

Anna thought her therapist was full of shit.

Because no matter how many times she spoke of it, she still felt the pounding in her heart. She still felt the way he touched her. Felt the cold metal against her back and the fear that she wouldn’t see the next morning. 

“I saw the way you acted with him! You stupid fucking slut!”

“You will not ruin the Westerguard family name!”

“I know you’re hiding in here. Come out come out wherever you are!”

“I’m all you’ve got left, sweetheart. No one’s coming to save you tonight.”

“You are nothing.”

His words rang in her head no matter how much she tried. At any other time she would distract herself, put in earbuds to block the hurtful words. But the hearing required her full attention- or at least as much of it as she could bear to give. 

She really did try to listen. It was important, and she would be asked to speak at some point. She needed to pay attention, but her fear held her hostage.

And if listening to her side of the story again hurt, then listening to his side was absolute tourture. 

“Your honor, my client Officer Westerguard did not perform the acts proposed by the opposing side. The only evidence of gun violence is a single shot into a wall, a wall in their guest bedroom to be more specific. Additionally, there is no proof that the injuries caused in the photographs were in fact caused by Officer Westerguard. 

“Has this young man not suffered enough? Spending almost a year in which he had to feel as if he were a criminal in his own town? There is no purpose in continuing the protection order, for not only is Officer Westerguard innocent, but Ms. Arendelle has not been seen anywhere near the Denver metropolitan area in months. For what purpose does a protection order have if there is no opportunity of interaction on a regular basis?”

Anna could feel her blood boiling. No evidence? She had specifically taken pictures of the gun and her face with date and time stamps, just like she had read online. But when looking at the pictures on the screen, those stamps were suspiciously missing. Not to mention the fact that multiple 911 calls were made- the 911 calls that had helped her earn the temporary protection order. But now those calls were considered “unimportant”?

The statement about Hans suffering threatened to push her over the edge. Hans had been the one to suffer? She was the one who had to start a whole new life. The one who cried herself to sleep for months because she couldn’t feel anything besides fear.

But sure, Hans was the one who was suffering, being seen as a criminal to people he had no care or interest in. His law enforcement friends certainly didn’t see him as a criminal, sitting behind him in the courtroom with a little too happy of grins. 

“For these reasons, I argue that the protection order between Ms. Arendelle and Officer Westerguard need not be made permanent.”

"Thank you, Mr. Peterson. You may be seated. Ms. Arendelle, if you would come to the stand please?" 

Elsa gave her a reassuring look from where she was seated behind, giving Anna one last boost of courage. She could do this. Her heart felt about ready to explode, but she could do this.

"Ms. Anna Arendelle, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

"I do."

This was it. Anna squared her shoulders, looking dead ahead at the judge. In ten minutes this would be over. She just had to survive those next ten minutes, one breath at a time.

"Can you tell me what happened on the evening of April 20th this past year?"

It took everything in her not to get stuck in the fog of her brain. She tried to listen to the tiny voice in her mind, telling her that it was okay. It was okay to talk about it. There was someone listening to her, someone who could help her.

Anna’s heart felt as though it were going to jump out of her chest when she heard the door open. Their earlier fight had been replaying in her head. It was stupid. Why was it such a big deal that she had gone out to the game night at the coffee shop? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

But it had made Hans mad, and it was all her fault. She knew better than to think going out would actually help him cool down. She knew that his anger would only escalated in proportion to the number of shots he had at the bar. By the sound of the door slam, she could tell it had been more than usual. If she was lucky, she could get him to bed before anything could happen.

His mumblings grew louder and louder. Things about how the house wasn’t clean enough, why did he even keep her around if she wasn’t going to fucking clean? 

She greeted him, knowing that ignoring him would only make things worse. 

He had that wavering look in his eyes, mirroring his unsteady feet. He was shouting about the house. Shouting about how she was whoring herself around, how horrible of a human she was, how no one loved her but him. She braced herself for his hand, straight faced. She had stopped wincing a long time ago. 

She made an excuse some time later, getting herself back in their bedroom. A fire lit inside herself. She couldn’t live like this anymore. She snapped a quick photograph of her injured face and sent it with a message to her sister. It was her only hope of outside help, a slim hope at that. She hadn’t been allowed to talk to her sister in so long.

She heard him coming, deleting the text messages, pulling it up to a random contact.

That was her mistake. He saw it, a friend from the shop, a male friend.

He shouted again, saying how he was going to teach her a lesson. He was gone and then back again, stumbling with his gun. In an instant, the cold metal was pressed against her back Tears streamed from her eyes. This was it. This was how she was going to die. 

“We fought for a while, until he shot the gun aimed at me. But our wall was the one to take the hit. I dislodged the gun and ran outside as fast as I could. And that’s when Officer Baker from Arapahoe showed up.”

The judge nodded at her. “Thank you, Ms. Arendelle. Please be seated.”

She had done it. The wave of relief passed through her. Someone who could do something heard her. Now Anna just hoped it had been enough.

She couldn’t bear listening to Hans’ side of the story. It wasn’t so much his side as it was twisting her words and fabricating a tale in which he was the victim. He said that she had been cheating on him, and that he only went to drink to forget his troubles. He spoke of how she was particularly clumsy and had fallen earlier in the week, that those bruises were not his fault. 

He spoke of how because he was the man in this case, no judge would take him or his pain seriously. He had only shot to defend himself from her rage. He had been the victim in this. He didn’t care for a restraining order, finding that he could protect himself from her. She was the one who needed to be locked up and away.

It made Anna’s blood boil. This was all wrong, so so wrong. There was no way in hell that anyone would be able to believe that bullshit.

But she was wrong.

How could she be wrong?

Why was she wrong?

She couldn’t help the scream that echoed through the courtroom. Elsa ran to her, holding her tightly and rocking her back and forth. Her lawyers were speaking, saying they would make this right. But in reality, they all knew this decision was final. Hans was a free man, free to do what he chose to whom he chose.

And in that freedom he was bold enough to walk over to her.

Elsa blocked her vision, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She was thankful, she couldn’t bear this on her own. But beyond the whispers, she heard Maren shout at him.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, I swear to God! Go talk to your stupid friends about how you rigged this trial in your favor! You are no victim here. Justice weeps at your presence.”

Hans could only laugh. 

“Perhaps, but the law stands by me. While the law could send you back to wherever you came from in a heartbeat.”

“Fuck you, you racist bastard,” she growled, fire in her eyes. “This land has been mine and my people’s far before yours. Now get out of here. Now.”

“You don’t scare me, sweetheart. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.” And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. 

Anna sobbed. Everything she had worked so hard for was gone. How could she ever feel safe again?

---

Elsa was miraculously stoic. Ever since the judge uttered his fateful words, she was a rock. Anna hadn’t stopped crying for more than a few minutes at a time, but Elsa was there to catch them. But regardless of how much she masked it, Maren could see right through it. Today had been hard on all of them, and Elsa was no exception.

Maren was just coming back in their hotel room from calling Ryder. The boys were just as outraged as they had been. But the judge’s word was final: he had believed Hans and to try him again would violate his constitutional rights. All there was now was damage control. 

Elsa was sitting on the bed further from the door, softly stroking her sleeping sister’s hair. As Maren watched, she noticed the small tears falling from Elsa’s eyes. How many times had they had nightmares over this very outcome, only for it to come true?

Maren breathed deeply, loud enough as not to startle Elsa. Slowly, she stood behind her, wrapping warm arms around Elsa. “Hi,” she whispered with a light kiss to the neck.

“Hi,” she breathed. Even with just one word, Maren could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “How were the boys?”

Maren sighed to herself. “Angry. I had to convince Kristoff not to get on a plane right this minute. I think they’re going out to the batting cages, let some of it out before we come home tomorrow.” The sooner they were all out of this blasted city, the better, Maren figured. 

Elsa nodded, leaning her head back into Maren’s chest. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.” 

Maren hummed in agreement, holding tight. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Not long.”

“Then how about we do the same?” Maren suggested, leading Elsa towards their bed. “You’re exhausted.”

Elsa sighed rubbing at her eyes. “I wanna be there when she wakes up.”

“You will be. You’re only a few feet away, love. I promise it’s okay to take a break. Come here.” Maren left no room for argument, pulling her towards the soft sanctuary of the hotel bed. Surprisingly, Elsa didn’t resist, instead curling up into a ball. She was silent for a long time, long enough that Maren thought she had fallen asleep herself. 

“How did it go so wrong, bumblebee?” Elsa asked quietly, her voice wet with tears. It crushed Maren’s heart. “He should be rotting in a cell a million miles away, not walking the streets, working his patrol like nothing’s wrong.”

Maren shook her head, willing away her own tears. “I don’t know, snowflake.” She pulled Elsa closer to her. “I don’t know why or how. But it isn’t right.” Her eyes betrayed her, wet tears dripping down her face. “And we aren’t allowed to do a damn thing about it.” 

“And the way he talked to you! Even off duty, what kind of officer talks to his citizens like that?” Elsa’s face scrunched in distress. “He’s a racist, bigoted asshole and how can he just run free saying things like that?”

Maren looked down sadly, playing absentmindedly with the sheets. “More do it than you think, love. He’s no isolated case.” 

Elsa clenched her eyes tight. “It’s not right. None of this is right. Why? Why did it have to end like this?” she cried. Maren could only hold her for there were no words. 

They laid there for a long time, tears falling freely. There was no reason to be brave now. Sleep pulled at their eyes as the setting sun outside mirrored the pain in their hearts. Their darkest night was here, and all they could do was wait for the sun to rise again. 

What else could they do?

[occasionalfics]

worth my while // prologue

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 1 

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power. 

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.

You know you shouldn’t get involved. But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au...kind of...)

A/N: Alright! First fic in...like 5 months! Awesome! I’ve been working really hard on this for a while, and there are some things you’ll need to know before you dive in!

1. This is SUPER vaguely based on Disney’s Hercules. That means that the villain is super cartoonish and kind of typical. Honestly I just really love the relationship between Hercules and Meg and wanted to work with that dynamic, so this is what came out of that need.

2. I’ve played A LOT with MCU timelines. Basically, instead of going home after defeating the Destroyer (in Thor 2011), Thor is left on Earth, but he’s given his power and proved his worthiness to wield Mjölnir. He gets into what happens to him personally after that, but what you need to know is that he’s present for every Avengers event after that. This ends before Ragnarok would take place, but the idea is that, very soon after all of this, Ragnarok would take place. If anything is confusing, you can definitely send me a message and I’ll try to clear things up!

3. I am not going to include a taglist from here on out. It’s a lot of work to keep up. Maybe I can be convinced to do a story taglist, but I won’t be keeping up with a global/permanent list.

I’m excited about this one! It’s a little nerdy and a little fun, maybe not quite as personal as Sugar was for me, but definitely one I’m happy with. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually).

Words: 2,027

Long ago in the far-away land of Ancient Scandinavia, there was a golden age of powerful gods and extraordinary heroes. The greatest and strongest of all of these was the Mighty Thor…

The famed God of Thunder lived a luxurious life as Prince of Asgard. He was headstrong, indestructible, powerful beyond compare, and set to inherit the nine realms to rule. But he was stubborn, selfish, and fierce in battle, unwilling to spare the lives of innocents in the name of asserting dominance.

That is, until he made one nearly fatal mistake: almost sparking a war with the Frost Giants of Jötunheimr. His father, King Odin, managed to broker a shaky truce with Laufey, King of the Jötuns, on one condition only: that Thor be stripped of his power, his immortality, and his title until he proved himself worthy of such responsibilities.

Odin was forced to cast out his son - his golden child and heir - to another of the nine realms.

Midgard.

After sending Thor through the Bifrost to the mortal-ridden planet, Odin gripped Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, tightly and chanted to it, “Whoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.”

Then he sent the hammer, too.

--

“No!” you yelled.

But it was too late. Rick had stepped out into the street at exactly the wrong time.

Later, you would think that the worst part of the accident wasn’t that the driver was drunk. It wasn’t that they ran a red light and killed Rick on impact.

It was that nothing went in slow motion. You didn’t get a chance to call his name, to make him turn around and look at you one last time. You weren’t given the time to keep Rick alive. That was worse than sitting through court hearing after court hearing, testifying time and time again.

The fact that Rick had died because you were angry over something so...trivial. The fact that you hadn’t gotten the chance to make things better, to apologize for blowing up, to save him. That would come to eat at you more than anything else.

But in the moment, it happened so quickly, there was no stopping it. Time did not slow down, and neither did that driver.

Well, they did, eventually. After Rick was already dead.

--

A year later, you were sitting in a pew, staring at the empty pulpit as if it might bring some answer to you this time. But it never did.

Rick’s church had become a source of peace for you - not necessarily for religion, but community. Everyone here, when there were people here, loved Rick. He was handsome, charming, warm. He was infuriating, too, but really only you knew that.

Even in your worst moments, you loved him.

That was why it was so hard to move on, even a year later.

You fell forward, forehead slumping against your knuckles that rested on the pew in front of you. Tears fell, like they always did, while you sat around in the church Rick had sometimes mentioned marrying you in.

There was a ring in his sock drawer. Two months ago, you’d returned it. The jeweler didn’t want to take it back, stating that it was out of the return period, but the moment you told him that Rick had died, he took it without question.

You’d found a pamphlet for the local botanical gardens with some of the wedding booking information underlined and circled.

Because, like always, Rick had a plan.

And now you had nothing except an empty cage where your heart used to beat whenever he smiled at you. Whenever he woke you up on Sunday mornings, offered to take you to church with him, and either kissed your forehead and went off alone or smiled even wider when you agreed. He’d never forced his religion on you, but occasionally, you went to support his choices.

Now he had no choices. He was dead.

“Why did you take him?” you whisper, eyes straining to stay open between the building headache and the tears. You force yourself to look up at the pulpit again, see the symbols and the prophet and the artistry all around.

But it feels hollow now.

“Why?!” you yelled, voice catching as your throat threatened to close. “I needed him! Why?!”

You felt a presence behind you, but ignored it.

A hiccup resounded around the room as your shoulders shook.

“I love him! I need him!”

Rick’s sunshine-y smile filled your thoughts, brought on even more tears and snot and pain, as if you hadn’t already felt enough over the past year. Footsteps clicked along the aisle behind you, but still, you ignored them.

“I’d do...give...anything...to have him back.”

Two black-clad legs stopped beside you. The person never bent down, never even looked at you. Kept his hands in his pockets as he stared ahead.

“Anything?”

--

You thought him a Necromancer at first, but that wasn’t right. He’d corrected you almost as quickly as your own brain had.

“Name’s Hades,” he said when you’d met him outside of the church. “Lord of the Dead. How ya doin’?”

Eyes like glaciers stared at you, but a smirk as dangerous as venom offset the chill. Only a bit, but enough for you step forward and ignore his outstretched hand.

“Lord...of the…” You scowled. “You’re crazy.”

You sidestepped him, attempting to get around and walk back to your car, but he was quick. Too quick. Like fog, he disappeared, then reappeared directly in your path.

“Says the girl crying, alone, in a church she doesn’t belong in.”

You paused. Rick’s denomination wasn’t the one you were raised with. But how could this stranger know that?

He cocked an eyebrow at you, smirk still gleaming in the dim, foggy morning. “The girl who’d do and-or give anything to see her would-be fiance.”

The ice around your heart spread to your fingers. To your toes.

“He misses you, you know,” the man said. Hades. He tilted his head, and even in the overcast day, his hair seemed to shine dark blue. “Drives the other souls nuts with how much he talks about you.”

“Stop it,” you muttered, trying again to get to your car. You didn’t want to hear that. It was impossible for him to know, impossible to have happened at all. Rick was dead. That was that.

“I can take you to him,” Hades offered. When that didn’t make you stop, his heels clicked along the pavement after you. “I can bring him back.”

The ice filled your entire body. Hot and cold at the same time, somehow.

--

The Underworld didn’t look anything like you thought it would.

You imagined a vast, empty space. Blackness all around, maybe a few blue lights to match the eyes of its ruler. Pits of souls here and there, guarded by the three-headed Cerberus, all confined within the Styx like a moat.

But Hades had upgraded over the last few thousand years. The entrance to the Underworld was a mansion, larger than any home you’d ever seen before. Three separated but identical Dobermans greeted Hades upon entry. One by one, they turned their attention to you to sniff and suss you out, but Hades kept them calm with endearing words of your plight.

He made it easy to trust that he was on your side. That he was doing you a favor, extending a hand first simply because it was the nice thing to do.

Later on, you would break a glass tabletop over how stupid you were to believe such a show.

He told you and Cerberus to stay in the living room, then disappeared into a room off the main entryway. His place was furnished well - every inch of space exuded luxury and wealth. Marble counters and floors lined the room, with a huge fireplace along one wall and a gigantic flat screen TV along another.

He had no pictures, though. No human artifacts. Geodes and gemstones, sure, but nothing that signified life.

One of the Dobermans rested beside you on the plush, velvet couch. It put its heavy head in your lap and expected pets, and you obliged.

This one must’ve sensed how nervous you were. The second you gave it your attention, you felt much, much better.

But only a few minutes later, Hades returned.

With Rick.

--

You kept him a secret. How could you tell his family, his friends, everyone that had come to the funeral, that he was alive again?

He agreed.

For two months, you and Rick resumed life as if nothing had happened. He was alive again, and you were so apologetic about what had happened that he simply ate up all of the attention. You cried every time you made love, because he was back. He was yours, and you’d given your very soul up for him.

But the thing about keeping him a secret meant that you couldn’t marry him. He was legally dead, after all. And you’d returned his ring.

That no longer mattered to you. It mattered to Rick, though.

Crawling into the third month, he became resentful. You’d returned his ring! You’d given up on him, and it was your fault he’d died in the first place!

He stopped making love with you. He’d go to sleep early, stay as far away from your side of the bed as he could, and wake up to shower before you did, locking the door to the bathroom so you couldn’t join him even if you wanted to.

One night, as he pushed his dinner around his plate, you called his name. He didn’t look up at you.

“Would you rather be dead?” you asked softly, afraid of his answer. The question had been rumbling around in your head for weeks, ever since he’d started taking your decision to return his ring personally. “Would you rather I have left you in the Underworld, Rick? Would you rather I’d not given you a second chance at life-”

“What does being alive matter if we can’t have what we wanted before I died?” he asked back, teeth gritted at you for the first time. Ever.

You sighed and put your fork down. “We’re together, Rick,” you said. “That’s what matters. That’s why I did it.”

“You sold your soul,” he seethed. “And we can’t even get married!”

“Who cares-”

His fist came down on the table, hard enough to break one of the legs. “I do! That’s who, (Y/N)! I care!”

Silence settled over dinner. It stayed, even as you cleared the dishes, cleaned the mess, ran the garbage disposal. Even as you went off to shower before bed. All night, all the next morning, and all the rest of that week.

Silence.

You’d sold your soul for silence.

--

You came home on the exact day of four months of Rick being back and found your home to be empty. Devoid of feeling, of warmth, of life.

Rick was gone. No note, no message left on the answering machine. No text from his new phone number - which you were paying for.

Nothing.

Because he wasn’t gone.

You crept along the house, wondering why it was so silent still. You made it to the master bedroom, turned the knob, and felt what was left of the icicle in your chest fall through your body, through the floor, and into the Underworld.

Rick was already asleep, his shaggy hair falling over his face in what should’ve been adorable curls. But the naked woman on top of him, also sound asleep, made everything about him look dark, dead, disgusting.

--

“I can bring him back,” Hades said again. Only this time, he meant he could bring Rick back to the Underworld.

You shook your head.

You’d brought Rick back to make you happy. It wasn’t fair to him in the first place.

But now he was happy. And you couldn’t bear the guilt of being responsible for his death twice. So, unless he asked to be taken back to the Land of the Dead, he would remain, according to you.

“In that case, we’ve got work to do.”

Thank you for reading! No tags for the moment, but please reply and reblog to let me know what you think! 

[insanityembraced]

Abnormal, Different, and Sometimes Extraordinary But Not Defective or Degenerate

I suffer from borderline personality disorder. It drastically influences my thoughts, actions, and understanding of the world around me. My perception, is and will always be altered by my, some say warped, I say realistic and unnaturally insightful, evaluation of emotional energy.

My personality disorder, label, or peculiarity, to me is a gift and makes me exceptional, not broken or in some way dangerous to leave unsupervised amongst non-afflicted personalities that perceive the world in a bland, underwhelming, and arguably are disordered, because they have lost or failed to attain enough focus or mental dexterity. In fact, the more we allow rigidity to limit man kinds ability to feel, sense, and accurately understand the emotional forces that bond us to each other and create the vivid colors of passion, creativity, and intensity only strong emotional tethers can sustain.

Sometimes my intensity and extrasensory ability is overwhelming and manifests in ways society labels as disordered, but in reality it is extraordinary and has mostly served to save rather than hinder my ability to navigate life. However, not every cloud is bright and humanity will always struggle with self control when faced with uncertainty and inesacapable animalistic urges that test our ability to get perspective in a world that never stops changing and evolving.

The following are some things that give insight into the extraordinary or even completely debilitating effects of my borderline personal perception of a world others see differently than I am capable of understanding:

I am insanely fickle. I can change my mind over and over and often times drastically reimagine my understanding of people and how we have shaped this globe or domed furmament into a prison with imaginary boundries created by hate and fear continuously infused into every fiber of human understanding.

As humanity becomes more and more oblivious to pure unadulterated empathy our sense of self blurs and society begins to eliminate diversity by allowing humanity to be silenced by fear built atop a drift of sand in the desert. However, even after the mirage has been unveiled as an invasive and aggressive sickness that has spread over the world consuming the rage and ignorance created by destroying pure empathy and viciously ripping humanity apart.

The more I explore the reaches of human understanding the less I believe we are even capable of understanding anything with certainty. Those who have attained great knowledge should have also gained an openness to the existence of many different kinds of intellectual perception that transcends traditional understanding of fact, fiction, or hypothetical scientific "certainty". Now I am convinced that the only thing I know with absolute certainty is that knowledge is currently to vast to contain within the limitations of our perception.

One thing that plagues those allegedly inflicted with a sickness so pervasive it has apparently permanently corrupted our souls and left us with scarred and impossibly broken personalities that now defines us entirely. Civilized, brainwashed, and fluoridated masses, given an instinctual fear of people labeled as mentally I'll. This instinct is based on a indistinct and uneducated manipulation of the different types of intellectual dexterity that can bless, awaken, and be a source of harmonious unification; instead the talents that I possess give me a different perspective on nearly everything. Different does not mean wrong. Failure of other humans to understand me or grasp the fiber of what makes me decipher the world in a different fashion that transcends even our sense of culture or language to create a group of individuals who consistently perceive stimuli from feeling, emotion, electrical charge of ions affected by forces not understood by those who close their mind to bothering with the difficult task of trying to think with other parts of your brain, even if it is unnatural or difficult.

I believe all intellectual or sensory talents are of value and should be developed in different environments that foster the use and improvement of our naturally occurring talents in says that create harmony and richer depth of understanding once we have opened our minds to different sensory observations that do not prove I am insane. All your label has done is help me to understand myself in a deep and intensely critical fashion that has helped me truthfully identify things I need to work on controlling and I also have had the opportunity to evaluate my triggers, identify signs of irrational or destructive thinking. This has allowed me to develop and institute coping mechanism and other internal and external tools to keep myself from allowing myself to overload my sensory system, not because I am permanently and invasively altered by psychic dysfunction that renders me a rambling, irrational nutcase unworthy of being trusted, believed, and people labeled borderline or who are labelled as having a personality disorder are just blessed with different sensory sensitivity that does create distinct differences in observation and unless there is effort exerted to understand and effectivy communicate with individuals who have a spacial or coordinated dexterity that can traslate into movement fluidity or accuracy that I am not natuRally blessed with and need help understanding and fostering such talent since I have an actual natural tendency to manage to fall inexplicably without warning or even applicston of outside force, but simply an internal lack of balance and a long term battle with my ability to see and thus manage my four dimensional space with grace.

All of this introspective personal reflection and growth should be a part of every human being on earth. Then those who suffer from similar difficulty in adjusting to certain triggers do not need to be defined by their diagnosis. The diagnosis is just how we find people who understand why my perception is differently aligned. We do not have to be feared, send to bedlam because of fear, or an irrational fear I will suddenly and violently embody my Hollywood stereotype and fatal ataction someone because I have been labeled and my internal bomb has been officially triggered.

Of coarse that is ridiculous and even people with the same disorder or same perspective still live life with shifting social, financial, qwwd many times has lead even similar differently abled souls to different ways to use our gifts to hopefully work towards harmony and unxersdnsign. 0⁰

t at your own understanding of the things you percieve. f we could acceptinstead of trying to force humanity into a mold f different talents and maybe even extraordinary abilities understanding with our surroundings. efear fear my extra personality have particularl feared the intense s have a history of failing to comply with medications and I am not good at consistently maintaining routine of anykind. I can only maintain a routine for days, occasionally weeks, and rarely have I ever maintained a consistent routine for more than six months.

I am capable of liking or becoming interested or disinterested in anything without warning. I consume myself with a fiery intensity for things that I will let consume me until I burn out. I have completely abandoned interests, hobbies, people, or career paths in a moment. The thing that I wanted to do every minute for the last 6 months, like when I fell in love with painting, instantly and without warning become unfulfilling, tedious, and inferior to a new and exciting passion to focus my obsessions on. I feel so intensely that I cannot enjoy or contain my energy in any repetitive or monotonous activity.

I unintentionally attract emotional disfunction; I have an uncontrollable urge to save certain dysfunctional or misunderstood humans; I become particularly enraged by the self designated elite, and often intellectually inferior humans, that intentionally exploit the weak, poor, uneducated, or disenfranchised; I cannot always protect myself from the emotions of others, human emotion produced by strangers can be so powerful I have literally fallen to my knees, began crying uncontrollably, or even been unable to breath based on proximity alone; pure emotion can be released from the body like a shockwave, but only if the emotion is genuinely produced; I cannot always distinguish liars, but I can always spot people who really are devoid of any kind if emotional depth, and they are the truly dangerous, because they dont care, feel, or empathize with humanity at all; I am intensely impulsive, particularly when I am having difficulty understanding and communicating with others; I am bad at maintaining relationships because of paranoia, constant fear of abandonment, and an inability to truly understand individuals; I only understand emotions and emotional energy, but fail miserably at understanding or anticipating actions driven by selfishness or purity of evil intent; I am unpredictable, even I cannot understand or predict all my begavior; once I cross the line into a psychotic episode, I lose all control, awareness, or ability to understand reality; I will black out entirely, and have absolutely no memory for hours or even days; when I gain control of my sanity the blackout lifts slowly like a thick fog; the lingering fog of psychosis is like a mental sedative that makes even simple tasks impossible, like remembering your name, or knowing if you are awake or asleep, or being able to understand basic human conversation; overwhelmingly emotional, and I have occasional breakdowns peppered with forced hospitalizations. Mental hospitals, particularly those that restrain the liberty of people who aren't capable of faking the numbness society expects of us all; are ineffectual, uninspired, and often the patients are treated without feeling, dignity, compassion, interest, competence, respect, understanding, and often staff not only refuses to listen, observe, or address any of the specific problems facing an individual. Instead the psychiatrists often do not even pretend to do their job and blindly medicate those they do not understand until they become someone else's problem.

[lifeisafunnyplace]

Waking up in a quiet house was unusual. Mornings were busy. His mother running around, yelling at Sehun to get him out of bed, dogs begging for food and his father yelling at them, Sehun complaining about everything he was given of work to do and their two youngest sisters yelling at everyone for being too noisy. It was good to be home, but also a relief to know it wasn’t a permanent thing.

When Chanyeol had blinked his eyes open enough to check the time, he almost jumped up from his pillow. It was mid-day already. He listened for any sounds, but it was completely quiet. Everyone were out working, he supposed. Maybe Sehun had told about last night? Of course he had. Chanyeol sighed. What could they be thinking of this?

With a frustrated grunt, he fell back down on his bed. Even if he was an adult, his mother was going to scold him for running in the forest at night. Besides, he had ruined clothes and made a mess at the kitchen. They were probably waiting for him to wake up from the intoxicated state he had been in the night before.

Right now everything felt like a swirl of memories mixing together with facts from his books and stories told when he was a kid. It was hard to make out what was real and what was not. Everything was blurry, except from sore muscles and stinging cuts. They were very much real feelings and testified how he indeed had been out running.

Being yelled at was not on his list for today though. Instead of waiting around for his parents, he packed a backpack, filled it with blankets, a lamp, drinks and food. He watched his books in the shelf for a good minute, but then grabbed as many as he could fit in his bag. He was going to stick to his plan. One last visit to the pond, and then the books would be gone. His final closure of this case. He had to move on, to grow up.

Carefully so that no one would notice him, he slid out the kitchen door and disappeared between buildings and trees. On the top of a hill, hid by shadows of large pine trees along the forest edge, he had his first stop. From his spot Chanyeol had a perfect view over the Byun-farm, and like expected, people were out working on the fields.

Soon his eyes fell on a familiar shape, a girl with golden wavy hair and fluttering skirts. Boys surrounded her and he spotted his brother as well. Chanyeol had a vague feeling of a promise given during the night. A lie told to get him to shut up and go to bed.

Even though Astrid seemed quite normal in daylight, something itched at the thought of her name. He didn’t trust her, and if she had been out there for real, if she was the hulder people told about, then she was dangerous.

No one would believe him, he knew. A hulder never showed her tail to humans, not unless her intentions were to lure him under and bring him back to her cave. That part scared him even more than Sehun meeting up with her in daylight. The more Chanyeol thought about it, the more he felt sure about having seen a tail in the moonlight the night before.

That’s why a last time decision had been to tuck a bible into the backpack as well. People of the underworld didn’t go to church and maybe it could protect him in any way, the way garlic protected you against vampires. Chanyeol rubbed his temple with his fingers, annoyed by his own stupid behaviour. He wasn’t supposed to believe in these stories, but at this point he didn’t trust anything or anyone.

When bored of watching working people out on the fields, he grabbed his stuff and let the forest swallow his silhouette, ducked under low branches, stayed out of the main path to avoid walking into anyone.

The rest of this nice summer’s day, he spent in the grass by the pond. Chanyeol felt prepared this time, had his books, a small lantern to light up the darkness and a blanket to keep him warm. He was here for the very last time and he was going to say goodbye. No one was going to scare him away, no running, no hallucinating or what the hell had been going on.

On the sky patterns made by white clouds changed as the sun travelled from south to west. Memories of a happy childhood flooded his mind and he welcomed it. Tonight he wasn’t going to push aside a single memory.

When he felt ready, he was going to throw away his books. Watch them float on the surface until soaked in muddy water and heavy enough to sink to the bottom and out of his life. When summer was over he was starting his career as a lawyer, he couldn’t bring this past with him. Tonight was the end, and the new beginning.

“You came back”

Chanyeol had drifted off to sleep for a moment and a melodious voice softly tickled his ears and made him open his eyes. Her smile was blinding as the lilies, her voice dancing over the water. His heart race doubled. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

On reflex he grabbed his lamp and his hands tightened around the handle. He still had no proof, he had to let her explain some more.

A white dress was floating around her bare feet and she didn’t even try to hide it, Chanyeol’s eyes drawn to the golden bundle of hair sticking out under her skirt. As she sat down, facing Chanyeol, she draped her tail over her thighs.

For a while they sat like that, Astrid threading her fingers through the soft hair in her lap, a beautiful and unfamiliar melody filling the air around them.

“You’re not getting to me! I won’t let you spellbind me with your voice and lies about him”

Chanyeol couldn’t take his eyes of her. Partly because she clearly was trying to pull him under her spell with her song, partly because he didn’t dare take his eyes off her. He was going to watch out for that tail, not giving her the chance to touch him.

“Have you made up your mind? Do you want to meet him again?”

Her voice was like feathers tickling his brain. He had to stay strong, keep focused. To have something to do he pulled out a book and threw it into the water.

“I’m leaving soon. I just had to finish this chapter”

With his eyes glued on the fury thing resting on her white skirt, he pulled out another book and let it follow the first one with a loud splash. Without looking, he knew it made rings spread on the surface.

“I was afraid you’d run again, that you didn’t believe me” Her voice just as soft, but with a sadness to it too.

“What is it to believe? I know what you are. I know what you do. Don’t use his name to lure me under” Anger started to simmer. She wasn’t giving up and either was he.

Astrid slowly stood up and sighed quietly. “That’s why I let him come along tonight anyway. Remind him he owes me”. With those words she turned around and dissolved in the fog between the trees.

Sounds of dry twigs breaking behind his back made him jump to his feet, still clutching the light in his hands, eyes trying to make sense of the shadow he could barely see between the old birches.

Chanyeol backed away from the shadow until he realized the pond was a step away. A young man with blonde hair blocked the way in front of him.

“Chanyeol?”

The voice gave him chills. Every single hair on his body stood up, made him shiver bodily. “Please don’t run” The boy was begging, his voice soft but sad.

Chanyeol grabbed his backpack, let his hand search for the bible while he held his eyes on the boy. “Don’t come near me!” He waved the small book in front of him, a weapon not useful for anything besides killing a couple of mosquitos.

“It’s okay, I’ll sit over here.” The boy slowly sat down, chin pushed against his chest and gaze on the ground.

“Who are you? Are you her?” Chanyeol’s first instinct had been to run, but he felt frozen in his spot, eyes glued on the small boy seated in front of him.

“You know who I am”

The blonde boy lifted his head and opened his eyes, let the taller see his ice blue gaze and warm smile. Chanyeol swallowed. It couldn’t be... Not a chance.

“Are you... are you his ghost?”

A familiar laughter filled the air, sneaked into his bones and made his blood bubble. It was the most beautiful laughter he knew, a laughter he hadn’t heard in ten years.

“Sit down, Chanyeol. Please. I just want to talk. I’ve missed you so much”

“Where have you been? Why are you here?” Making sure there were enough space between them, he lowered the lamp and sat down on his blanket. He felt his heart racing too fast, but he wasn’t going to run.

“Aaah... It’s not that easy. Well, I’m here to see you. And ten years is already too long.” A sad, yet familiar, pout on his face almost made Chanyeol believe him, almost. “I’m so sorry I left like I did. It wasn’t my choice. I was going to wait until autumn, but then they just grabbed me and brought me over. I guess I had avoided them for too long already.” He laughed a little at his own words.

“Who are /they/?”

“My people”

Sure, that made everything clear. Now everything made sense. No, it didn’t. Nothing in the entire world made sense anymore. Not Astrid, not this Baekhyun-like guy, not the past, not today, nothing. Nevertheless, he still couldn’t move away.

I felt like this guy, looking a bit too much like Baekhyun, was waiting for further questions. There were something calmly seen in his eyes, no hurry, Chanyeol took his time studying the other from top to toe. He was dressed like a normal human being, nothing smelled of magic or fairy tales. He really looked a lot like you could guess a 25-year old Baekhyun would look like.

Chanyeol searched for answers, an unknown number of questions rolled on his tongue, almost reaching the tip of it. They rolled back, one after another. One part of him wanted nothing more than to scoop closer and give the boy a hug. Another part, probably his brain, made him curl up on the blanket, arms closed tightly around his knees.

In one way it was a comfortable silence, gave him time to take in and proceed what was going on. Little by little, he felt his body relax more too. The blond boy seemed unfazed by the wall Chanyeol had put up in front of him, and calmly hummed to a melody. Chanyeol knew that voice. He had listened to it so many times. It was a bit darker, more mature, but he couldn’t be that wrong.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Chanyeol cleared his voice and waited. The boy looked up with the brightest smile on his face. “I never thought you were going to ask. Go on, ask me anything.”

“I guess I’m having a hard time believing you are.... You know....him?” It came out like a question, Chanyeol not yet ready to use his name. The questions he wanted to ask were questions only Baekhyun could know the answer too. About school, his cat, Sehun’s first kiss, moles on his back, favourite food and many, many more.

The boy, the one who started to feel more and more like his best friend, patiently answered every one of them. Some of them made them roll over from laugher, some of them left them quiet for minutes.

At one point their roles had been reversed. Suddenly it was Chanyeol who answered questions. Him who told about his parents, about staying in the city, about law school. They were being two friends catching up on the past, getting to know each other again.

“Okay, I have one final question” Chanyeol looked down on the hands that played with his. Elegant, soft fingers drawing patterns on his skin, the small mole on the left thumb.

“Mhm, go on”

“How did I get my first kiss?”

This was a question only Baekhyun would know the answer to. No one, not even Sehun, knew about that kiss. Tentatively he lifted his head to try read the others face. The spark of silver in the other’s eyes made him shiver. He had seen that spark before.

“Like this”

Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol over, hoovered over him with one hand on each side of his head and pushed their lips together. It was everything Chanyeol ever needed. It answered every question he had ever tried to answer over the years. It was impossible not to kiss back.

Taking advantage of his bigger body, he rolled them around in the grass, trapped Baekhyun under him, let his hands travel to the soft skin on his neck and cheeks. Lost in the moment he never noticed the soft tail curling around his waist, holding him close.

When they parted and sat up next to each other, Chanyeol knew he had found what he had been searching. He had finally found his best friend, the one he loved the most. He was here, he was alive, all flesh and blood and beautiful laughter. He didn’t know what their relationship would be like, but he was never letting go of his friend, ever again.

“Astrid told me you was leaving soon. It’s late. Where are you going to?” The smaller boy was looking up into the talker’s dark eyes, his delicate hands wrapped around Chanyeol’s larger fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. I Can’t lose you again!” “Then don’t. Come with me.”

Baekhyun stood up, let the fluffy end of his tail brush over Chanyeol’s bare skin on his arm as he took a step backwards.

“People think you are dead, have been for 10 years. How to explain?” “You don’t.”

Baekhyun smiled his biggest blinding smile, the one brighter than the moon. Then he slowly turned around facing the pond. He held his hand out for Chanyeol to take.

“Come” With one word he dived into the pond.

A primal scream left Chanyeol’s throat, Baekhyun’s name echoing between the trees. He watched the rings in the water grow bigger for a moment. No! This was not history repeating itself. Baekhyun was not disappearing again. Not like this. He kicked off his shoes, took a deep breath and dived in too.

[the-everlasting-dream]

Status: Captured - Damien [x MC]

Summary: Imprisoned by Eros, Damien Nazario witnesses firsthand the terrible purpose of inventions concocted by the madman that is Rowan West.  

A/N: I’ve had this fic sitting in my drafts since the day PM ended. Its my first time really getting into Damien’s head so forgive me if I haven’t grasped his character quite right. This fic is a bit different to my usual stuff. There will probably be a part 2 because I couldn’t fit everything in one fic. 

Submission for @choices-september-challenge Day 5 Fight hosted by @i-dream-so-i-write 

Word Count: 2200+

Warnings: Language, brief mentions of violence, brief mentions of sexual content. 

Permanent tags: @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa, @pbchoicesobsessed , @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @xxrainbowprincessxx , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves 

Pain… white hot pain… scraping up his spine and under his skin…. coursing through his veins is pure blinding pain…. 

It fills every part of his mind until he was sure that nothing else exists except for the flames that burn away at his brain… that is all that exists until….. 

There is a sound… so loud it pierces through the fog that surrounds his mind, keeping it hostage… he is moving now — How is that possible? — still he can feel the unmistakable vibration of a vehicle purring beneath him… the vibrations echo through his body, giving him a better grasp of where it is and where he is. 

As his brain adjusts to the notion of wakefulness, he remains still, eyes clamped shut as the neurons fire, attempting to soak up all the sensory information they can despite the agony in his head. He’s lying down on his right side, a slight movement in his arms tells him that his hands are bound together, so are his feet and his cheek brushes against the cold metal floor of a vehicle - he can’t identify it yet, not until the deeper sections of his mind decide to cooperate. The vehicle  jerks suddenly and he is pitched forward his entire bodyweight coming to rest uncomfortably on his left elbow as it pokes into his side. He is about to shift when he realises someone is speaking. 

‘- completely destroyed.’

 Its a rough accent, with a twang he can’t quite place but before he can contemplate it further, his thoughts are interrupted by a smoother voice, careful and measured but dangerous nonetheless. 

‘My instructions were simple Tomas: Grab the girl and detonate the emergency charges in the control room.’ 

 A rougher voice - Tomas, he concludes - starts to interject. ‘But sir our men -‘ 

‘Are a small price to pay for what we could have achieved instead.’ 

 Chills run down his spine as he listen to the man in authority wave away what must be dozens of lives lost so casually. He becomes more and more aware of  fights the urge to shift out of the uncomfortable position he’s in - the elbow digging into his side becoming more prominent with every second but he can’t, he needs to hear as much as possible. 

‘Whadda we do now?’ Tomas ventures hesitantly. There is a small pause before the unknown man - Why does his voice sound so familiar? - continues, disappointment clear in his tone. 

‘Your incompetence has cost me dearly. I will have to gather as much information as possible from the one you did manage to capture.'The implied threat is heavy in his voice now. 'Let’s hope for your sake, he can deliver me the data I require.’ 

 The man moves onto barking out more orders and his mind struggles to keep up but the discomfort of the position makes it hard to retain the information. Finally he can’t resist it - the pain is too much and he shifts again, the resulting movement bigger than he’d planned and it attracts the attention of a person he didn’t even register was there. 

 ‘Boss he’s wakin’ up.’ 

The smoother voice cuts itself off and he holds his breath in the tiny pause before it delivers its command. 

 ‘See to it that he doesn’t.’ 

 Something hard connects to the side of his head and the darkness engulfs him once more.

-

Waking for the second time was more visceral than the first. There is a pain yes, but its sharper, more concentrated and he pinpoints it to be around his left temple as it flares up angrily when he moved his head. He feels a warm liquid, blood, sliding down his face as he as he fights to gain control of his mind. 

 It takes a few moments but as the haze fades, the consciousness itself brings about a wave of sensations so strong he can’t even begin to decipher them yet. The facility, infiltrating the secure laboratory of a matching making service, there was a fight between him and his friends and somethings that weren’t human. Names ghost through his brain, on the hinge of his consciousness, Hayden, Sloane, Steve, Alana, Nadia… 

Damien! 

He remembers someone yelling out to him, calling his own name above the din, over the chaos that was unfolding around them. He sees her in his mind's eye. She had dark skin and even darker hair that whipped across her face she swung a metal tray at a guard, knocking him out cold. 

 Athena! 

Her name echoes in his mind, snapping him back to consciousness and he instinctively gasped as the memories came flooding back to him in full clarity. His eyelids snap open and he grunts audibly as the fluorescent lights burn themselves into his unprepared retinas and he flinches in response. As they gradually grow accustomed to the sensation, his eyes wander around the room, blurry and unfocused as he scrambles to identify where he is. 

His gaze is met by pristine steel walls that seem to rise high in every direction around him and on them monitors of various sizes were mounted, displaying all kinds of information and source code that he couldn’t decipher as unidentifiable figures tap away at their keyboards.   

‘Hey!’ Damien calls to them. ‘Where the fuck am I? What is this place?’ 

 They don’t seem to hear him, barely pausing in their routine as if he wasn't even there.   

‘Hey assholes,’ he yells, louder this time, meaning to move forward but he found himself strapped down by his wrists and ankles to a straight-backed metal chair. ‘I’m talking to you. Where am I?'

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an audible ding! sounds out in the room and the figures at the desks immediately cease their actions, standing up in attention as the doors of an elevator slide open to reveal a silver haired man in a well tailored suit. As he enters the room, he commands such a presence that the few closest to him almost shrink back in fear. As he strides forward, the only thing that disrupts his aura is the black eye patch over his right eye. Realisation takes only a couple of seconds to kick in but he knows without a doubt that he’s looking at none other than Rowan West, founder and CEO of Eros. 

 ‘You son of a bitch,’ Damien snarls feeling fury rising within him. ‘What have you done?’ 

He attempts to lunge towards the man, muscles tensed and ready to strangle the man with his bare hands but once again the action is curbed by the metal restraints encircling his limbs. Instead the silver-haired man regards him with an amused gaze but says nothing, seeming to take delight in watching him struggle. 

 'Where am I?’ Damien demands again, anger coursing through his body as he strains against the cuffs. 

 ‘I supposed you are entitled to some answers,’ Rowan sighs almost disappointedly. When he speaks, it is in the same smooth voice that he heard in the transport vehicle.‘Very well then, you are in a secure Eros facility, Mr Nazario. The closest one to our head quarters that your friends so kindly decimated.’ 

 ‘What can I say? They’re smart people,’ He almost shrugs before fixing Rowan with a poisonous look. 'Where are my friends? What have you done with Athena, you bastard?' 

'No need to be so touchy Mr Nazario. She’s perfectly safe. In fact she’s with you.' 

 Damien is puzzled to see something akin to amusement in Rowan’s gaze. 'You’re not making any fucking sense. I’m going to ask you again. Where. Is She? 

'I suppose I was rather cryptic in my answer. So why don’t you see for yourself?' He gestures to one of the gigantic monitors suspended from the ceiling. 

The screen fizzles once before an image of a familiar raven haired woman appears. She is smiling as she looks into the camera. 

Athena.

‘I bet you ten euros she’s going to ask the conceirge for sticky notes,’ she is saying with a grin. Damien’s heart lurches in his chest as he sees her. The first thought that enters his mind is that she’s alright and relief seeps through him it is quickly replaced by suspicion a man’s voice chimes in, sounding eerily familiar. ‘Double it. I call neon highlighters too.’

That voice... he knows it, almost as well as he knows his own. He can’t stop himself from frowning as he takes in the bigger picture. In the background of the shot there is a mirror and in the reflection in it he sees that himself that she is talking to. Bewilderment washes over him. But how? It is impossible, he has no memory of this taking place.. 

 ‘How-how is this possible?’ Damien stammers before his voice takes on a demanding tone. If he harmed a single hair on Athena’s head, he wouldn’t hesitate to make the older man suffer in every way he knew how. 'What did you do? Brainwash her? Drug her and coerce her into saying this?' 

Rowan shakes his head, almost disgusted now. 'Oh no, humans like you and your precious girlfriend are terrible messy to manipulate, full of emotion and morality, two completely useless concepts for the pursuits of a man like me. What I have created is truly a miracle. Something that even no man has ever achieved before.’ 

Damien’s confusion only grows, as does his desperation when he realises Rowan is being purposely, infuriatingly cryptic. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, you bastard?'  

Rowan ignores his question, on a completely different stream of consciousness right now. 

‘You know I hadn’t meant to capture you. I was really after your precious little sweetheart. Pathetic though she may be, she was one of our most successful candidates in the Matching program. The data I could have collected on her would have advanced my work by leaps and bounds. But when my men produced you instead, I almost despaired until I realised I could use you to collect data on her. Or rather,’ he corrects himself. ‘Your android counterpart. Nevertheless you and Ms Park deserve my thanks have been instrumental in helping me achieve my goals.' 

Damien recoils at the thought of doing anything remotely helpful for the madman before him, unconsciously or not. 

He isn’t going to be complacent while men like Rowan West gained power by exploiting the feelings of real people like him and Athena. He wants nothing more than to wrap his hands around that pale clammy neck of Rowan's and push down until he stopped breathing but he knows he can't, not while he’s still in cuffs. So he tried another tactic, a tried and true device any detective worth his salt should know. 

 ‘And what exactly are these goals you refer to?’ Damien goaded, hoping that by keeping West talking he could eventually find some weakness he could exploit. 

Rowans stares at him for a long moment with cool grey eyes. ‘Total control. Supreme unchallenged authority. Ultimate access to the world’s resources. Take your pick,’ he gestures passively before continuing. 'With the planet's most valuable assets at my command what choice would humanity have other than to bend to my will?' 

Damien fights to keep his expression neutral as realisation of what the words mean dawns upon him. Yet he cannot resist a jab. 'World domination? What are you, some fucking textbook children’s show villain?' 

The silver haired man sighs in disappointment. 'I really do hate that term you know. World domination is so... lazy. What I have in mind is so much more than that.' 

'And what is that exactly?’ Damien spits back venomously. 

 Rowan opens his mouth but catches himself before the words come out. He swivels on his heels to look at him. ‘If I told you that, I'd really be a textbook villain wouldn't I?' 

Dread and anger mingle together in a tight knot behind Damien’s sternum and it must have shown on his face as Rowan’s ugly face curls into a self-satisfied smile. 

'You are good, young detective,’ he gives him an appreciative glance before his smile widens. 'I’m just better.’ 

Damien lets out a roar of anger and lunges forward again, the metal of his cuffs biting painfully into his wrists and ankles. The force of his movement, drags the heavy chair a few inches forward and the guards rush to restrain him again. 

Rowan however is unfazed and looks at him condescendingly. ‘It is futile to fight back Mr Nazario,’ he drawls lazily. ‘You’re a smart man. You should know that people like me always win.’  

‘You are insane,’ Damien shouts after the Eros director as he walks back to the elevator. He refuses to give up fighting. He can’t... 'You are nothing more than a madman with a seriously mistaken god complex.' 

Rowan pauses in his retreat, casting a sympathetic glance over his shoulder before turning to face Damien again. 'I suppose you meant that as an insult. But I don’t have a god complex… With the technology I’ve created, I’ve essentially been able to replicate the human soul in my matches.’ He lets out a chuckle that chills Damien to the bone. 'I am God.'

Rowan gestures to the pair of beefy — obviously human — henchmen that lined the room and they advance on him, their purpose clear. The last thing Damien sees before he lost consciousness again is Rowan’s smug face staring down at him.

[levi-inthesun]

Do you trust me?

Peter Parker x OC (chronically ill, mobility aid user) Colette “Coco” Barton

Once your mom and dad split, you both moved in with your Uncle Clint, your mom’s brother. Having access to the medical team at the avengers compound ended up changing your life, in more ways than one.

A/N: OKAY I AM POSTING THIS NOW. Multi-chapter fic. PLEASE give me constructive criticism. I want to grow as a writer.

Tags (I figured you might want to be tagged?): @bigexplodingstar  @dungeons-and-awkwarddragons

4000+ words

Chapter One

Just weeks after your 18th birthday, your mom, Norah, finally had enough. Your dad had been getting fed up with you being sick all the time and thought you were faking. He had started treating you badly after you had had a really good day, seemingly out of the blue. He yelled at you saying you were a lying, ungrateful daughter who took advantage of him and your mom. Your mom tried fighting for you, but then your father began fighting your mom. Ending in their divorce when it started escalating. Clint had been as active as he could be in his sister’s life, but with the avengers taking up most of his time when he isn’t at home with his wife and kids, it’s his wife Laura who keeps tabs on you and your mom the most. Once the divorce was final, Clint and Laura insisted on you and Norah moving in with them, at least until they could get everything together. Although if it were up to them, especially Clint, you guys would move in permanently.

“Coco, are you getting up today?” your uncle called down the hallway.

“Yeah Uncle Clint, I think so!” you were getting dressed for the first time in about a week. The stress of the divorce, the move, and your illness had rendered you bedbound.

“Okay, Laura has some breakfast going for you and the kids” he knocks on your door and you let him in “Norah has some job interviews in the city today and left early. She didn’t want to wake you up” he informed you as he pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing your hair.

“You off to work?”

“Yeah, I’ve just got some meetings today though, so I should be back tonight.”

Grabbing your cane to help you down walk down the hallway, you followed Clint as he led you to the kitchen.

“Well good morning sleepyhead!” Laura sang as she saw you, scooping  some eggs and bacon onto your plate. Aunt Laura was maybe the most understanding out of everyone about your illness, besides your mom. She had been there by her side throughout the entire process of you receiving your diagnosis, as well as how much harder your father had made it on the both of you. Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura were some of your biggest supporters and you would always be grateful to them.

What you didn’t know was that Clint Barton didn’t have any avenger related meetings that day. Clint had set some up with Tony, Bruce Banner, Dr. Cho, and the other medical staff. He wanted to see what they knew about your illness, and what they could find out. The Avengers compound had the most advanced medical and research technology. Clint knew that if you were going to have a shot at leading a life with less pain, and maybe more mobility, they were the ones who could help. “Alright you guys, I have Colette’s medical records here. All I am asking is that you look it over, and think about the things we have talked about today. I hate seeing my niece in so much pain and I feel like this is her last shot.” At that Clint excused everyone, thanking them for their time.

A month later

You had taken it easy lately, finally recuperating from all the changes going on. Looking outside your window, the sun was shining as spring was just starting to warm up. You had been feeling fairly good that morning, so you decided you would take a little walk around the Barton farm. Your doctors had told you that you ought to keep moving when you could, not wanting you to become weaker or lose some of the muscle you had built up from physical therapy. After eating breakfast, you pulled on a few extra layers. Even if it wasn’t all that cold to the others, it caused you a lot of pain. You’ve had a degenerative joint disease that got really, really bad in high school. After that you started experiencing widespread, chronic pain in your connective tissue as well as fatigue. It killed any chance you had at furthering your love of running. Once your illness continued to progress, your mom had pulled you out of school and you began taking courses online. The school district, not wanting you to fall behind during flare ups, set it up so that you could do school all year long. Your illnesses limited your abilities drastically, so you put all your effort into your classes, because of this, you ended up graduating early, but just barely.

Plugging headphones into your phone and grabbing your cane, you slowly made your way to the expanse of land your Aunt and Uncle lived on. SHIELD had made sure Clint’s family would be safe, in fact, no one really knew about them besides those closest to the arrow shooting superhero. It was nice, being out here. You could actually hear yourself think. While living in the city was nice, all the traffic and noise had given you a difficult time, especially when your brain became foggy, whether out of the blue or because of the pain.

The brain fog was one of the most frustrating things that happened for you. You were incredibly smart, which is one of the reasons you were able to graduate early. You always caught on to things easily, and as it turned out, you had a knack for science and music. You loved the way science allowed you to solve problems, which let’s be real, you had a lot of problems. Before you had gotten really sick you had hopes of getting further into scientific research, wanting to try to help people like yourself. But that was one of the things your illness took from you. You never felt like you could have any plans for the future; never knowing how many months or years until you were completely bed bound because of pain. That’s where music came in for you. It was a way for you to escape and express yourself.  You could play just about any instrument you picked up. You played less now though, the joints in your fingers had been causing you more pain. In addition to playing, you had playlists made for the different kind of days you were having, mixtapes your parents had made for each other when they were teenagers, your favorite albums on vinyl, and racks on racks of CDs.

When you were at home, you preferred to use  these to listen to music instead of  always plugging into your phone. In fact, you had quite the love hate relationship with your phone. Sometimes it was your lifeline, your access to the outside world, your ability to communicate on extremely bad days. Other days it was a reminder of the life you should have had. You would get texts from old friends at random times about dates they were going on, colleges they were going to, how much they missed the “old” you. Then there was the internet. You would see people succeeding in everything when most days you could barely get up in the morning. Usually it only made you feel sad, but on occasion, you would get angry.

Unexpectedly you felt someone tapping on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. You took your headphones off and turned around to see your cousin Cooper.

“Hey Coco, there are some people with dad here to see you. Mom asked me to come get you!” his smile was insanely wide. Who would be here for you? The only people Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura ever brought over were the Avengers…. No. no no no no no. You had heard so many stories about the amazing things they’ve done. How they are constantly saving the world. Why would they want to meet you??? You were panicking a little bit as you made your way back to the house with Cooper. You checked your reflection in the window before you entered cursing yourself for not bothering to do much to your appearance today.

“Ah! Here she is! Colette, let me introduce you to my coworkers” Your uncle said as he winked at you. “This here is Tony Stark, Dr. Bruce Banner, Dr. Cho, and  Peter Parker” he pointed out each of them as they all shook your hand. Except for Peter. He just looked up at you with wide eyes and gave you an awkward smile.

“Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you all” you said politely, still confused.

Until it clicked. Two out of the four had the title of Dr. while you knew Tony Stark was a genius. You knew nothing of Peter, except that he was cute... What in the world was Uncle Clint up to?

“May I ask why you are all here?” you said, turning to your uncle who had the biggest smile you had seen from him in a while. He had been working a lot lately, even though you didn’t see much on the news about the team of heroes.

“I thought you told her already Legolas” Tony looked at him sternly.

“I wanted to surprise you, Colette. I have been talking to them about your condition and we may have found something to help you!” He was beaming as he explained to you what they had been meeting about before you interrupted him.

“Uncle Clint, you know I love you, and I know you mean well. But don’t you think you should have talked to me and my mom before you started this whole thing?” you came off a lot angrier than you meant to but it did the job, stopping him in his tracks. “You disclosed private medical records with people I don’t know. Yeah they may be the best but that isn’t something you can just do! This… this…. I just can’t right now.” Looking your uncle in the eyes again was a mistake. You could see he was hurt, and you know he means well, but this isn’t something you could take lightly. “It was nice to meet you all, but I need to excuse myself.” Picking your cane back up and turning the music back on you walked back out the doors as quickly as possible. After you carefully made your way up the shaky ladder, leading to the little tree house Uncle Clint had made for your cousins, you slammed the door.

“Aaaah!” you scream into your hands, burying your face in your arms as you sit against one of the walls. “I can’t believe this!!! Why didn’t he just ask me!!!!” you continue to yell to yourself.

“Hmm, that went well” Bruce said turning to look at the others.

“Wait wait wait. Clint, you didn’t talk to Coco or Norah about this??” Laura asked her husband incredulously, “you should have known how she would have taken it, and now you are going to have to explain to your sister why you upset Coco so much.”

Clint looked down at his feet awkwardly. The other avengers, hadn’t ever seen Clint like this and began to feel a little out of place, except Tony who was trying with all his might not to snicker too loudly at the sight of Hawkeye looking so defeated at the hands of his own niece.

“I-“

“Hey I’m home! Is Coco up and about today?” Norah Barton walked in, surveyed the group in front of her, noticing your absence. “Clint, what is going on?”

“I need to explain something to you sis… you aren’t going to be too happy with me” he looked at his sister like he was going to be sick.

They went upstairs, and the avengers heard quite a bit of yelling from Norah. She was very protective of you, especially about your health. Near the end of her marriage to your father, he had signed you up for some experiments behind her back. Not wanting you to ever feel like you weren’t the one in control of your health, she chewed your father out. That was the beginning of the end.

While everything was going on, no one noticed Peter slip out.

As you sat in the tree house, the music playing in your ears began to annoy you. Taking off the headphones you opted to instead listen to the quiet whistle of the wind.

-A few more minutes passed when you heard a quite knock on the treehouse door.

“Go away!” you try yelling, but it comes out more exasperated and tired than anything “I really don’t want to talk right now Uncle Clint.”

“Um, yeah, it’s uh, it’s me, Peter. Peter Parker? I saw you come in here and it’s been a little while since you left and just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear you come up. How did you get around all the security bells?” You open the door to see the boy, who looked about your age, hanging upside down.

“AHH! WHAT. HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT!” accidentally screaming in his face he turned bright red and fell onto the little porch. “OhmygoshIamsosorry!” You helped him back to his feet and let him in.

“It’s okay! Really! After I was bitten by a spider in highschool I got super powers, allowing me to stick to things, which is how I can hang upside down. I also made these webs to help me swing around…. But I really just wanted to tell you something…. That was really crappy what Hawkeye did. He should have told you he was meeting with us and talking about you… If I or Banner had known, we really wouldn’t have gone along with it until you were on board.” The smaller avenger looked down at his hands as he spoke, nervously playing with them.

“Thank you, Peter. I really appreciate that.” He finally looked up to you and smiled, causing you to blush, suddenly extremely conscious of the other, you took a step back to create a little more space between you and the very cute superhero . You sit back down and pat the floor next to you before continuing. “I really didn’t mean to make a big scene back there. I just… because of my dad I never really got a say about my health. He resented me, and felt like I had been a waste of money…. Anyways, since mom and I left I finally had control and I couldn’t help but feel like my uncle just tried taking that from me, whether he realized it or not.” You bit your lip and looked back up at Peter, who was staring. Now it was his turn to blush as he stared at your lips. You felt a flurry in your stomach and thought you were going to be sick for a moment, before you realized that it was butterflies, not your normal nausea.

“That makes sense.” Peter snapped his head back to face forward “It would suck to have your privacy violated like that. Again, I’m really sorry. I should go back, but I uh, I hope I see you around Colette!” He smiled even bigger than he had earlier and it caused more butterflies to start rioting inside you.

“Yeah, okay, that would be great. I should actually head back in there too. Mind if I walk back with you?

With a quick nod of his head he helped you up. You were about to make the slow climb back down the ladder when all at once, peter was behind you talking.

“Hey, can you just, trust me for a minute?” he said delicately, his mouth right next to your ear.

“What??”

“Do you trust me?”

“UhyeahsurePeterwhatsgoingon”. As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you were yanked up, flying through the air. Peter holding onto you with one arm, the other had a web connected to a nearby tree. You let out a scream, when all at once you were safely on the ground, and a whole lot closer to the house.

Turning around wide eyed you looked back at Peter who was giggling. Like actually giggling. “WHAT. THE. H-“

“COCO ARE YOU OKAY!” your mom burst out of the house.

“Uh yeah I think so?” you looked to her then back to Peter.

“Sorry Ms…. Uh Colette’s mom… that was my fault. I was just showing her my superpower to get her down from the tree house… I am gonna just go…” He quickly retreated back to where the others were waiting for him and gave you a quick wave goodbye.

“Who was that?” your mom came to stand by you as you both watch the lot of them drive away.

“That, mom was FREAKING SPIDERMAN!” you say as you turn to her excitedly.

“Well, freaking spiderman is a very handsome young man” she replied to you with a wink.

Once back inside, you and your mom eat in your room together. You haven’t seen much of each other lately since she got a job in the city, but it was near the Avengers Compound, so her brother has been dropping her off. You told your mom about everything that had happened that afternoon, from the surprise of Uncle Clint sharing your medical history with superhero friends, to the 20 or so minutes you spent with Peter. In turn she tells you a little about work and the chat she had with her brother.

“Now Coco. I know my brother went about this in the worst possible way. But…. I actually think this might be a really good opportunity for you” you gave her an unsatisfied look before she continued. “Listen. These guys are all really smart, and after chewing my brother out for the breach in information I talked to Dr. Cho, Tony and Dr. Banner for a little bit. They have some really good ideas to help you. I will not, however, push you. This is your decision. I know you have recently gotten into a good groove with your health, but you might as well hear them out, you know?”

“Yeah… if I wasn’t as mad, and quite frankly disappointed in the spy of an uncle I have, I think I would be willing to talk to them.” You smiled up at your mother who was sitting across from you. “That doesn’t mean I am not going to give Uncle Clint a hard time about this whenever I can!!”

At that your mom laughed. “Yeah, just give him a little slack. You can be a little much to handle when you want to be.”

Realizing it was getting late, your mom cleaned up your dinners and said goodnight, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you my little chocolate chip” she said as she ruffled your hair. “Yeah, love you too momma”.

After she left your room to go to sleep you spent most of the night researching your uncle’s coworkers, finally falling asleep with your laptop open on your bed around 3 am.

It had been a few weeks since you had been approached about letting the medical and scientific research team take a look at you. So when you showed up at the Avengers compound you were incredibly nervous. You were going to be staying there for a few weeks for observation and testing to see what they could find out about your illnesses.

Uncle Clint helped you bring your stuff into your new room and helped as you unpacked a bit.

“So Coco, what is up with all the music? You brought an entire music store!!!” he teased. You only rolled your eyes, him knowing full well your need for music.

“Well, I guess I will let you finish up in here. I will be just down the hall. If you need me you can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. get me”.

Jerking your head around to look at him “Who is Friday???”

“Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y. mind introducing yourself?”

“Certainly Hawkeye” a voice coming from nowhere said. “Colette Barton, I am FRIDAY, artificial intelligence and security at the Avengers Compound. If you need anything at all you have to do is ask.”

You looked wide eyed at your uncle as he shrugged and walked out the door.

“I think I am gonna like this place” you said to yourself once he had shut the door behind him.

You wouldn’t meet with the team put together until the next day so you had some time to explore a little bit. Feeling tired from unpacking, you got in your wheelchair and rolled yourself around the compound. That’s when you found yourself in a kitchen/living area somewhere on the same floor as your room . No one was there, so you decided to poke around, looking for some food. As you started to stand up to reach some cookies on the top shelf you saw a  web shoot thru the air connecting to the cookies you had wanted. Turning yourself around you saw the face who would not leave your mind since you met him.

“I was wondering if you were ever gonna show up!” He walked over to you, handing you the cookies. “I thought you would be in the lab with everyone else. How late are you here today?” He asked.

“Oh, actually everything is starting tomorrow. I’m gonna be here for a few weeks, at least” you said with a sly smile as recognition passed the boys handsome features.

“YOU MOVED IN?! THIS IS BETTER THAN I THOUGHT!” realizing he was yelling, his face flushed red again. “I uh, I’m glad I will get to see you more Colle-“ suddenly an alarm started going off. FRIDAYs voice came over the pa system telling the avengers there was a nearby threat. Suddenly you saw the whole Avenger team, Thor, the god of thunder included, running about to secure the building, not noticing you.

Within minutes everyone had gathered back. Turns out there was an animal roaming around that FRIDAY mistook as an intruder.

“Well, at least FRIDAY noticed, right?” you heard voices from down the hall. Once the alarm went off, you figured it would be best for you to get out of the way, you retreated back to your room.

Once the alarms had turned off, you put your favorite Beatles album on your record player. As sounds of Paul McCartney’s voice filled your room with the words to ‘Love me do’ you heard a small knock on your door. Instead of getting up, you decided to just ask FRIDAY who it was. Once confirming it was your uncle, Tony Stark and Dr. Banner, you had the AI let them in.

“Well, looks like someone’s got good taste in music!” the overly friendly playboy/philanthropist said as he made his way to shake your hand. “Good to see you here. It looks like you’ve started to settle in?” you only nodded your head and he continued. “Good. Listen, tomorrow we want to start you out on a series of tests that will let us see how much your joints have degenerated over time and at what rate, after that we-“ Dr. Banner spoke up for the first time since you met him. “Tony” he said, almost patronizing him “let’s not load everything off on her at once”.

“I was just explaining the day ahead of her Green Giant.” Tony quipped.

Shaking his head at Tony’s nickname he turned to you “Look, we want you to be as involved in this as possible. We can give you information and then you get to make the decisions. The first thing we are going to do tomorrow is actually give your mobility aids a bit of an upgrade, if that is okay with you?”

“That sounds fantastic! Actually, can I help? I know a bit about mechanics and would love any and all information you could give me.” You were smiling practically ear to ear. You hadn’t been able to do anything like this in a long time and you were going to take advantage of this whenever you could.

“That’s right, your mom told us you were very into science in high school. We will not hold any information from you. You are an adult, and this is your life here. We will respect that first and foremost. We will have FRIDAY let us know when you wake up and will plan accordingly. Your mother should be here around 10 tomorrow. Welcome Colette, we are all very excited.” Dr. Banner shook your hand, as well as Tony before they left, only your uncle hanging back.

“Listen, if at any time they... we” he corrected “become too much. Just say the word and we will back off. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the respect you deserved when I began talking to them about this, but I promise to make sure it isn’t overstepped again.” Smiling you pulled your uncle into a quick hug and thanked him. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing, but let me or anyone really know if you need anything, okay kid?”

“Yeah, will do Uncle C.”

You fell asleep rather quickly, unfortunately, it was only to drift off into dreams of your father, and the abuse he put you and your mother through. You woke up sweating and shook your head to try to rid yourself of the images that were just playing in your mind. Knowing that was all the sleep you were going to get you started to get up, slowly dressing in a loose, gray tank top, a pair of black leggings and your sneakers. You had a random bout of energy, so you decided to do a bit of walking. Grabbing your cane, you walked to the kitchen and found a man with long, dark hair on the couch, chatting lightly with another man with blond hair. In the kitchen was a woman cooking, but instead of flipping things with her hands, there was a red energy around the spatula that she controlled, flipping the pancakes and tossing them on the pile when they were ready.

Realizing you were staring, the woman cleared her voice, before speaking, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, I am Wanda! You must be Colette!” she said, in an accent you didn’t recognize.

“Oh! Hey wanda! The scarlet witch, right? Yes, that would be me. I’m assuming you’ve heard about me from my uncle?” You say, shaking her hand. “Yes, but I think I have heard more from our little spider” she said with a coy smile. At that the two men in the living area got up to introduce themselves.

Reaching out to gently (and you noticed it was very gentle) shake your hand. Your uncle must have warned them to be soft. “Hi, Colette, I’m Steve Rogers, and this here is Bucky Barnes! It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Oh! I know who you guys are!” you blurted out, turning bright red. “Uh… good work you guys do.” You slunk back over to where Wanda was making you a plate, when you heard a crash. Jumping at the noise you saw your Peter slide in.

“Little Spider! We were just talking about you!” Wanda said with a huge smile.

“Oh! Who, me? What why oh Wanda please don’t call me little spider you know I don’t like it!” He said very quickly. His face was turning the same shade of red as his pajamas. That’s when he looked down to where you were looking and turned an even deeper shade once he realized he just so happened to be wearing his spiderman pjs. “Oh… uh…..” “I like them!” you said “the pjs. They’re cool” a huge smile creeped onto his face, helping him feel more confident. He grabbed himself a plate of food and sat down on the counter across from where you were at, glancing up at you every so often.

Once you finished breakfast (and your secret glances at Peter) you headed back to your room to inform FRIDAY that you were ready for today’s testing to being.

Chapter 2

[bespectacledyurika]

To Hell and Back - Pt. 3

It was all so hazy and everything tickled my brain to think, but I was partially sure this place was pretty. I couldn't even think straight to quote myself on that fact though which was probably not a great thing. Then again, what was a great thing? 

Discounting how comfortable the grass was, Jasper still had yet to really wake up and all I wanted to do was lie my head back down and curl up in the ankle-high grass with scattered flowers across it. Thinking on why there were still blooming flowers in Autumn hurt too much--thinking at all hurt too much.

So I stretched, yawned, and placed one stark pale hand against the grass before lying my equally pale face into it. Wasn't sure about this detail either, but I was pretty sure that I'd become as pale white as Jasper's fur who was curled against my side as I wrapped my body in a curl around his little spot in the grass.

Why was I still here? I'd completely forgotten what even got me to this point. Why did I leave my house? Why wasn't I doing my normal thing? ...what was my normal thing?

“Hey, wake up”.

There was movement and noise like a voice but it was foggy in the background. Mumbling, I picked up a hand to wave off whatever was touching me...or I think was touching me. "Not yet...five more minutes.." was about all that muttered from my lips yet they seemed to make sense to my fogged brain.

More grumbling escaped my lips as I shifted a little, feeling a weird amount of air underneath me and more movement than I was pretty sure I was doing.

I'd only partially dozed and wasn't fully asleep, but I was far too groggy to really make sense of anything. Yawning and slipping one eye open very lazily, I tried to discern the figure whose...face...?...was hovering over mine but looking ahead. It was a blurry silhouette from my perspective. Blinking a few more times, I reached a hand up and very slowly poked at what I thought was a face, trying to feel out who this person was and why I was moving with them as I'd come to realize.

Jasper did what he did best. Somehow through an accident involving puppy imprinting, he bound himself to me. So his body moved itself in a flicker from the spot on the grass to my abdomen. Though at the time, the only thing I registered was the more little fluff adding a bit of weight.

My voice cracked as a very slow-paced sentence slid through my lips. "There's...my li'l fuff ball.." Looking back at that, I probably sounded stoned off my ass or something, but that's about all I could manage. Stoned was better than nothing, I guess?

"Where...we go...in?" I tried to ask the logical question of our location and destination to the blurry figure, but this seemed to be the permanent normal as my arm hung weirdly in the air before I let it rest over Jasper's happily sleeping visage.

"Home." The voice was friendly and warm but the response span around my head repeatedly. Home? Home? What was that? All I could really register was that my vision was going in and out and air was brushing past my flowing locks and I definitely wasn't on the ground. Oh and I was...going home?

As soon as we'd made it to the only cabin in the woods outside the field and gotten in a little ways, I had to blink several times because my vision was adjusting on its own or it looked like it was. There was a murky ceiling and that face...I knew that face. It was still hard to see entirely, but I narrowed my eyes and stared harder. "...Papa Tak?" my voice was really gravely like I hadn't been talking or drinking for days--not that I knew why. I wasn't even sure if I was calling the person by the right name.

Not too long after, there was a soft material underneath me. It was really nice. I yawned and stretched, running my fingers over Jasper as he clung himself to my side. The blurry figure seemed to dart from the room as my vision was clearing a little, lavender eyes gazing across the ceiling. It was...a bedroom? Was this a bedroom?

Before the figure could return, I'd thought maybe I had to sit up to get a better understanding of what was going on. Only--every time I tried to, my body gave me a 'nah' and became weary and shaky forcing me to lie back down. There must be a more logical way to do this yet I felt like I just wasn't smart enough to figure it out.

"Brought you some food n' things to eat. Water too. But eh - let me know if there's anythin' else you need." 

When the figure returned, he was carrying something flat which he set on what my fogged eyes could only guess to be some sort of stand. It smelled reeaally good though. So I attempted to prop myself up again as he spoke, his words finally a bit more understandable than before. It was definitely male and I was a bit more sure that it was the elf I was so familiar with from the voice.

Gesturing to my side sloppily and trying to prop myself up on my elbows, I responded to his offer for anything else he could do with a simple but airy, "..Help?" This much need for assistance with simple things was almost foreign to me. I was so used to being resilient that the word sounded weird to me. Yet here I was, needing help with just sitting up straight.

Not having full focus of my surroundings just yet, the hand that was moved to prop against my back and help me sit up startled me at first with a breathy gasp before I feebly adjusted with it to sitting upright with a slight lean. I could tell he was giving me words of advice, but all I could really think to do was nod before reaching a hand out to the food that was seemingly moved closer to me.

Blinking several times to clear the fog, I grabbed the bowl on the tray and slowly pulled it back onto my lap, squinting just to make out that there were strawberries inside and reaching in to grab one.

Without making eye contact, still focused heavily on the strawberry blobs in the bowl that I wanted to eat, I meekly let the question I'd been thinking to myself out. "...where am I? Is--is this home?" I swear I sounded like a lost puppy that'd been kicked and left in the rain. No wonder I was being treated like I was fragile--I was acting like it...and honestly kind of felt like it.

"This is my home," His home...huh? "For the time being, it's yours as well till you can recover from. Well, whatever the heck happened to ya'." Spinning a strawberry between my fingers, I tried to roll around what even happened. What were the occurring events? Why was I in his home? Even a brain as washed up as mine was could tell from the number of times hearing it that this was definitely none other than Tak, but there were so many questions.

Slowly, I nipped the ending off the strawberry blob and rolled it across my tongue before trying to speak more. "Where--where was...I? I...can't--remember..." It was like someone had just taken and sapped everything that happened prior and made me into a clean slate. However, that wasn't a good thing this time. That was an incredible backset on a lot of things.

"You were in a field quite some distance away from where we are now," His words made my brows furrow. A field? I think I remember grass but...why was I there? "You look like you were there for a while. So, stay here a while. Get back your strength, try to remember what happened. You're going to be safe now." None of it made sense. I wouldn't just go to a field to take a nap. My brow twitched with a bit of forced pain as I responded.

"How...far? I--I don't un-underst--" I coughed hard, and choked in a raspy breath, having run out of air for all that, but there was some strange urgency underneath me to know what it was that I didn't know.

"You don't need to do anything right now but get some sleep, and recover. Promise me that, Yuri?"

His response left me with...disappointment? I felt like I was missing something--there was some piece to this that I'd just misplaced as easily as car keys. Maybe he was right. Maybe sleep and recovery were needed first, but wouldn't they stop me from knowing?

With a rough-sounding sigh, I gave a very slow nod and moved to place the bowl back on the tray. All this thinking had killed my appetite. "Can--can I...sleep now?" It was a pretty pointless question except for the fact that I was at least aware of the struggle it took to get me in this position...and now I had to get back into a lying position?

"Of course you can, Yuri. Do you need help laying back down?" 

Maybe I didn't sound so stupid after all. His offer at least gave me that much as I nodded in response, deciding it best not to try and struggle out anymore words. What more nonsensical garble could I concoct at this point, anyways?

It was probably just best that I went to sleep and hopefully woke up with a fresh mind so I knew what it was I was thinking about. Not to mention, there was no denying that I was tired.

Once I'd finally gotten into a proper sleeping spot, thanks to Tak, he proceeded to fluff the pillow and pull the blanket up. If I wasn't so drained and tired, his fatherly nurturing would've been somewhat amusing. 

"Do you need anything at all? Does your phone need to be charged?" I thought on his questions though. I'm not sure if I needed anything, but...my phone...where was my phone? Blinking reaching a hand down, I shifted slightly to retrieve the device from my pocket where I'd only noticed it sitting thanks to how much it pressed into my side. Slipping it up over the covers, I clumsily unlocked the screen to try and check the battery before passing it over with another nod. Looks like it was just as tired as I was. "Thanks...Papa Tak."

The short time between him leaving and returning to get a cord to plug in my phone was hardly something I'd kept track of. It didn't even occur to me how to ask how it was so easy to charge it. Chargers were weird these days, after all.

"I won't be far from this room if you need something," His affirmation held a sense of comfort as I nodded, settling into the soft bed. "Sleep well, Yuri," Once the lights were off, a silence fell upon the room that was only deterred by my slow, labored breathing as I stared into the crack of the mostly closed door. The harder I stared, the more my head swam--soon drowning in a sea of sleep and an ocean of dreams.

[maximuswolf]

A post to assure those who are experiencing depersonalization/derealization from psychedelics or who have had a very "bad" trip that everything is OK. via /r/LSD

A post to assure those who are experiencing depersonalization/derealization from psychedelics or who have had a very "bad" trip that everything is OK.

Hi there, if your coming across this you most likely took acid recently - had some form of a panic attack - you feel like you've lost yourself and you are searching for answers. Why did this happen to me? Have I lost my mind? Will I ever be normal again? These are all questions I asked myself two years ago, when I had abused the living shit out of acid - experienced a psychotic break that caused me several months of internal, existential pain. And I even took more acid while experiencing the psychotic break which made it even worse. I looked all over reddit for help, but the answer wasn't clear enough. I couldn't stop thinking about my trip, 24/7 my mind was constantly in search for answers related to my trips. I can confidently say I have a large chunk of the answers now, not to life as a whole but to the experience that I suffered from. My experience with acid was unique enough on its own to get me to think I had permanently lost my mind. Sometimes the answers were there but they flew over my head because they didn't make much sense to me - and that is perfectly normal and its going to happen when you have DP/DR. But there were several generous people out there that gave me tips to help me, and helped me stay calmer throughout my learning experience. My goal of this post is to help you feel better about your current situation and perhaps reduce the time it will take you to recover. I will address things point by point as so.

There is no such thing as a bad trip. DP/DR is not permanent

The only way your trip was bad is in a short-term context. However, your trip was not truly bad - in fact you are even privileged to have gone through it. There's a good saying, a system once broken down grows back even stronger. Psych's don't give you knowledge, they expose the deep parts of yourself which when not abused, normally lead to insight. This opens several gaps that were previously closed in terms of your existential understanding, you've now realized that there is more to life than the one that surrounded yourself your whole life - and you feel like shit because it feels so different, but don't worry! You will feel closer to yourself more than ever if you treat this process carefully, like me right now.

Time heals

Which is why I'm saying that your trip was only bad in the short term. Your brain is an amazingly massive and complex feature of nature - no technology can replicate the brain to its fullest potential. In the long term, your supercomputer of a brain naturally learns how to to heal itself! The brain has no way around this, UNLESS you use drugs to escape. To be fair, the words of this post wont even do full justice. It takes a lot of time to obtain the insight to heal from something like this, but do not fear the long time because it is completely worth it.

Drugs elongate the process to recovery, in some cases they may make it impossible

I used marijuana every day since everything happened. With what I've learned within these past two years is that marijuana just makes things a hell of a lot harder. I'd imagine it would be worse for hard drugs too. I think the reason for this is because marijuana sort of fogged my mind, and it has psychedelic properties on its own. What does marijuana do? It slows your processing speed. If you wanna slow your processing speed its gonna slow the process to recovery like it did for me. Took me a year or so to start feeling like myself again while smoking weed, and even then I had taken a few breaks. You don't have to stop using forever, everything in moderation, but for now it makes sense to me that it speeds up the recovery process a lot so you should try your best to take a long break.

Learn to love your "new" self, as it will make the path to loving others clearer

Your old self is gone, not YOU but the old properties of your self are. You have to accept this, it's completely OKAY and your new self will be much better if you take the time to explore new things, explore things that are better for yourself and more fulfilling. This is how you form the building blocks to a much stronger, and loving self. Loving yourself when you feel like you've lost your mind is by no means easy - you just have to allow yourself to learn. Try new things step by step to get self-love instilled in your narrative. You will love yourself again when you realize how far you've came.

Take a long break from psychedelics

Seriously, it's a must. Right now you don't need any more because it will only add more questions to your life which will make the process longer. I think most people would be afraid to take more psychs when they get to a point of DPDR, but if you aren't afraid, think again... because you can seriously make things much worse if you are already in a bad mindset alone. Don't take psychs again until you feel good about yourself at the very least.

Love the process

You got to love the process no matter what pain gets thrown at you, adversity is the only way to growth. You will inevitably grow from this if you treat it right and trust yourself to get through the pain. Growing pains are a physical example of this. You cannot grow physically without experiencing growing pains. Same applies with your psych, adversity = growth. Those that self-loathe and run away from pain their whole life face it in the strongest form eventually because they never actually learned how to get to the root of their problems.

You will feel like a self again, and better than ever before. I promise you this is true (with an exception to those with schizotypal disorders, but even then there is still hope for you!)

That's all I have to say as of now, thank you for reading this and I hope you found it helpful. Never give up and trust that things will be fine! Because they will.

Pls upvote to get this information spread out, not for me but for other people! (i couldn't care less about having karma points)

​

Here more information relating to this topic, and is a guide to recovery beyond my assurance:

https://www.reddit.com/r/LSD/comments/jfwnuw/a_guide_to_recovery_if_youve_had_an_intense_or/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

Submitted October 25, 2020 at 02:23PM by SalamiEater via reddit https://ift.tt/2TpDRNW

[marypsue]

Duskfall 1 / 2

Part Two || on AO3

...

I’d never given much thought to how I would die.

If I had, though, this wouldn’t have been my first choice. In fact, it probably wouldn’t have even made the top ten.

It wasn’t until the van began to slide towards me that I realised I’d always had some vague, romantic notion of dying in a way that meant something - perhaps in the place of someone I loved. There wasn’t enough time to resign myself to the reality - that I was about to die alone, too young, before I’d really had a chance to have a life. 

In my last, helpless seconds, I found myself dwelling not on how my death would devastate my poor mother, or on how my father would no doubt blame himself. All I could think was that this wouldn’t be happening if I’d never come to Forks at all.

The van’s brakes squealed uselessly as it filled my vision.

...

In the state of Washington, on the tip of the Olympic Peninsula, there is a small logging town named Forks. This town is unremarkable in every way, except for one. Forks, Washington receives more rainfall, on average, than any other place in the continental United States. This small town is nearly permanently overcast, smothered under a constant blanket of grey cloud. 

It was Forks from which my mother, seventeen years ago, had escaped with me in tow, leaving my father behind. And it was to Forks that I had now exiled myself.

I had come from Phoenix, Arizona, a city so different from Forks in every way that it might as well have been on another planet. I hadn’t wanted to leave. The year I’d turned fourteen, I’d put my foot down and refused to spend any more summers in Forks with my father, Charlie, and I hadn’t been back since. Forks was a cold, wet, dim, green purgatory from which I felt lucky to have escaped. Despite my sickly pallor and general aversion to all things athletic, sunny, sporty Phoenix was where I belonged.

And yet, it was Forks where I was now dying.

I had no one to blame but myself, of course. I’d chosen to move to Forks, rather than play the third wheel to my mother and her new boyfriend as they travelled across the country for his baseball training camps. Renee had protested, but I knew they’d both be happier without me tagging along. And Charlie had been more than glad to have me stay with him. He’d never been one to cling, but he’d hung around like a lost puppy at first, until I’d convinced him that I wasn’t going to evaporate in the middle of the night. 

And I’d chosen to start at Forks High School in mid-March, rather than waiting until the start of the next semester. I’d thought that the social consequences would be worth not shooting myself in the foot academically. 

I shouldn’t have been worried about my grades - my high school in Phoenix was at least a grade ahead of Forks’. I should have been more worried about my peers.

More specifically, I should have been more worried about a bunch of seventeen-year-olds driving on sheer ice during the one freak snowstorm Forks had seen all winter. The snow had been worse than the rain - cold, in addition to wet - but at least it had broken up the monotony. For the span of a few minutes, I’d even foolishly allowed myself to be charmed by the sight of huge, feathery clumps of snow drifting slowly from the (as always, overcast) sky. 

That had turned out to be my last mistake.

I hadn’t seen the van pulling into the parking lot. I hadn’t seen its driver try to stop, hadn’t seen it start to slide on the ice. I hadn’t noticed it until it was too late to move.

Later, Dr. Cullen would explain that I’d been pinned between the van and the bed of my ancient truck, a ‘welcome-home’ gift from Charlie that had been the one bright spot in my exile. The crash had shattered my pelvis and severed my spine in two places. If I’d lived, I never would have walked again.

I didn’t know that, of course. I was a little preoccupied with being unconscious. 

“They’re going to notice.”

The voice was what drew me from the stupor I had been drifting in, watching the ceiling swim overhead and quietly contemplating my own imminent death. I had been wondering, I realised, how long I had been dying for. How much longer it would take. 

The voice spoke again, tugging me a little closer to the surface of consciousness, and for the first time I felt a twinge of pain from somewhere in my abdomen, around my waist. I tried to raise my head, to see what the damage was, but a kind of sleepy heaviness overwhelmed me. I focused, instead, on the voice. Words were still too difficult to pin down, but I thought I recognised the cadence, the pitch. However, my mind, full of fog as it was, couldn’t quite seem to close the gap between the voice and who it belonged to.

“This isn’t the nineteenth century, Carlisle. Someone will ask questions when she’s declared dead and no one can find her body.”

Somewhere in the room beyond my vision of pale, greenish ceiling, something was beeping incessantly. I wished that someone would shut it up, but I couldn’t seem to form the words to ask. Just drawing breath to try took a monumental effort.

Another voice, this one radiating calm and composure, entered the conversation. “Unless she receives three major organ transplants within the next hour, she is as good as dead. And you know as well as I the chances of that happening.”

I wished that the strange heaviness that made it impossible to move would at least let me breathe a frustrated sigh. At least now I had a timeline for how long I could expect this dying thing to take.

The first voice spoke again, and this time a terrifying coldness came over it, sending chills down my back even through the warm and dreamy haze that had settled over me. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t interfere.”

“Edward,” the second voice said, sternly, and my sluggish brain finally gave a jolt of comprehension. Edward. Of course. I recognised the voice from my very first biology class. Edward Cullen, the boy who’d been so repulsed by my existence that he’d fled the entire school and never come back.

I tried to summon a groan of exasperation. Really, it was just my luck.

“You can’t save them all, Carlisle.”

“My boy, I know that better than anyone.” I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining a tinge of sorrow in the second voice, the one belonging to ‘Carlisle’. “But don’t I owe it to her to at least try?”

“Don’t you owe it to her not to condemn her to an eternity of suffering just so that you and Esme can pair me off?” Edward snapped, and I felt a wave of heat beginning, slowly, to rise up my chest towards my face. The sudden, overwhelming feeling that I shouldn’t be hearing this conversation overtook me, but I couldn’t seem to get my arms to work to come up and cover my ears. “Remember Rosalie? Don’t put us all through that again.”

“Your concerns are noted,” ‘Carlisle’ said lightly. “But I do consider more than your romantic prospects in these cases, you know. She’s still so young, she has so much more life ahead of her - to let her die like this would not only be cruelty, it would be an injustice. Besides, wasn’t she your -”

It was about then that I was distracted by a throb of pounding pain from my abdomen. Suddenly, my voice decided to work. I managed a decent yelp, and the two voices shut up instantly.

“She’s awake - you didn’t tell me she’d be awake.”

“She’s not supposed to be.”

Something cold flooded through the back of my hand, spreading quickly up my arm, and the ceiling began to swim again, the pain slowly dissolving along with the rest of my body. As my vision started to dim, I saw a beautiful face - the kind of face Botticelli might have dreamed of, the kind of face that would have made Michaelangelo weep - lean into my line of sight, and smile.

Then a tidal wave of sleep dragged me under.

...

When I woke up, I was on fire.

There were no words to describe the pain, even if I'd been able to speak them. It would have been like trying to describe a sunset to a person who's been blind all their life. No matter what I said, it would never quite measure up to the real thing.

When the burning finally faded enough that I could focus on anything other than how much I hurt, the ceiling had changed. Rather than the pale, antiseptic hospital green I’d seen before, this was a pleasant shade of warm white, welcoming and soft. 

It took a moment for me to make sure all my limbs were where I remembered them being. 

When I finally managed to sit up, I discovered that the large, elegantly furnished room I'd found myself in was occupied. I vaguely recognised some of the alabaster faces gathered around my bedside, but in this strange setting, I couldn't place where I knew them from. Most of them - three girls, three boys - appeared young, not much older than me, but there was something in the way all of them held themselves, something in their beautiful amber eyes, that made them all seem much, much older. The thought whispered through my head that, apart from their clothing, none of them would have seemed particularly out of place in a sepia photograph.

“What happened?” I managed to ask, shuddering at the rasp of my own voice. My throat ached, stung, like I’d swallowed an entire bottle of hot sauce and chased it with sand. 

The apparent oldest of the boys, the one all the others seemed to turn towards without even realising they were doing so, pushed himself up from the armchair he'd settled into and approached my sickbed. He flashed me a dazzling smile, his sparkling white teeth only the palest shade lighter than his marble-fine skin. I had to stuff down the urge to reach out and run my hand along his forearm where the rolled-back sleeve of his button-down shirt exposed it, to see if it was really as smooth and unblemished as it looked. 

Now that I was looking, I realised that all of them had the same colouration, as though they'd never seen sunlight, and the same tawny, almost golden eyes. And, of course, they were all breathtakingly beautiful. Despite their apparent physical differences, they almost looked like they were all related.

It finally occurred to me where I'd seen them - at least, most of them - before. I'd been struck, before, by how beautiful, how otherworldly, the Cullen siblings - foster-siblings, but no one would know it to look at them - appeared against the drab, mundane background of the cafeteria of Forks High School. Even without anything so ordinary as a high school cafeteria to contrast against, I still found myself fascinated, by the play of light on Rosalie Hale's cascade of golden hair, by the swanlike arch of Alice's slender throat, by the sculpted angles of Jasper Hale's marble face.

Edward, I noticed, was conspicuously absent.

The one woman I didn't recognise, I decided, must be the siblings' foster mother, Esme. Which meant that the man who'd approached me had to be Dr. Cullen. Neither of them, strangely, looked much older than their charges.

In fact, everything about this was strange. Where was I? Why was I here? Was the conversation I'd overheard between Dr. Cullen and Edward - could it possibly have been real? How else could I have come to be here? A multitude of questions rushed forward to the front of my mind, but they all crashed up against each other before they could make it to my tongue.

I couldn't, I realised, hear my own heartbeat.

Despite the burning rasp in my throat, I managed to choke out, "Am I dead?"

Dr. Cullen's brilliant smile looked almost apologetic as he said, "The answer to that is somewhere between yes and no."

...

In the end, the Denali agreed to come to us. I couldn't stay in Forks, not with everyone believing I was dead, and even with seven of them, the Cullens still didn't want to risk traveling up the coast alone with a newborn vampire.

A newborn vampire. The most powerful, bloodthirsty, dangerous being in existence.

Me.

It didn't quite seem real, and the endless, oppressive green dark of Forks didn't help me feel any more grounded. It also didn't help that my new eyes could see a thousand different shades of green, the constant monotone gloom of Washington State transforming into a rainbow of light and shadow before my eyes. Forks had always seemed a little otherworldly, a little unreal, but now it was practically bursting with colour and scent and sound and light - an impossible fairyland. I couldn’t imagine seeing the whole world this way. 

It was almost unfathomable to think that I didn’t need to imagine it. That I would experience it, firsthand, soon enough.

“Don’t worry,” Alice said, sweetly, reaching up to rest a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.” 

“Because you...saw it.”

Alice winked, and tapped a finger lightly against her temple. That was another thing I was going to have to get used to. Superpowers. 

“And don’t worry about Edward. He’s only avoiding you because -”

Just like that, any hopefulness I might have felt about the whole situation evaporated into the chilly grey pre-dawn air. “Thank you, for the reminder that I’m literally so repulsive that the sight of me drove your, uh, brother away for good.”

Alice let out a little huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “It’s got nothing to do with you. He and Carlisle just need to bare their teeth at each other for a while, get it out of their systems.” Her smile turned knowing as she added, “My ‘uh, brother’ finds you anything but repulsive. Trust me.”

I was beginning to learn that a knowing smile from Alice was far worse than a knowing smile from anyone else.

It took a moment for me to find my voice again. “Oh. Great. Because this was all just going too well already.”

Alice’s laughter was bright as delicate silver bells. She patted my shoulder, once, before reaching up to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll be right there beside you all the way to Alaska. Have fun, make new friends!” she trilled, before pirouetting away.

She didn’t mention that the only reason she and the Cullens would be beside me was because they would be flanking the truck - according to the plan they’d put together over the phone the night before, two driving ahead, two following, and the other three on foot - in case I went berserk on the highway somewhere. I could understand why. The burning in the back of my throat was incessant and insistent, barely calmed at all by the entire doe Emmett had dragged back for me after Carlisle had decided there was too much risk of me meeting hikers in the woods to go - hunting - myself. In a strange way, I found it reassuring. Maybe I hadn’t asked for this new life, but now that I had it, I didn’t really want to start it out by literally biting someone’s head off.

Still, there was no way I was going to make new friends. I approached the huge black mud-spattered pickup truck that pulled into the driveway of the glass-and-steel phantasmagoria that served the Cullens for a house feeling pretty much the same as I imagined someone would walking up to the executioner’s block. So, about the way I’d felt on my first day of school.

This was different, though. At least facing down Forks High School on that first morning, I’d known that, six hours later, I’d be heading back home, to a quiet dinner with Charlie, who probably wouldn’t ask any awkward questions I didn’t want to answer. That I’d call Renee, my mom, that night, endure her prying about whether I met any cute boys, find out how she and Phil were liking Florida, just talk. That I’d be able to go out on the weekend and maybe talk cars with Jacob Black. That, even if I was alone in a sea of new faces, even if everything went terribly and everyone hated me, I still had somewhere to go back to. Still had someone on my side.

Staring at the impossibly beautiful strangers piling out of the truck to take me away to my new life, I realised I’d never been so entirely alone.