#I’m trying very hard to fight my isolating myself instinct but I’m not sure I’m succeeding

[iguessitsjustme]

Now I’m upset at em because when he had the time to fix the situation with name he just made it seem like name shouldn’t feel the way he is feeling also I hated how he got frustrated when mama didn’t answer him as fast as he normally would (now you see how name feels every time you said you would call but didn’t) that part made me so freaking mad! I was heated but to go to his mama like what plan does he have with his mother? Neither of them realize they are making him pull himself even more away from both of them

Hello my dear anon!

So I'm going to preface this by saying that I am also angry at Em. I don't think he's handling the situation very well and I am glad the rest of the friend group is keeping him in check. I also love Name so much. I would sell my soul for Name's happiness.

That being said, I don't think Em deserves all of the hate he is getting here on tumblr.com. I think it's important that despite his flaws, we recognize that he is still trying. He is now making a concentrated effort to let Name know when he is unavailable. He is trying.

I'm not sure who was on the other end of that phone call. I really hope it wasn't Name's mom because I would be livid. But I am going to hold off on my judgement and my anger until I am 100% sure. But even if it is Name's mother, Em has no way to know what she's been putting Name through. He's not there. He hasn't heard her guilt Name for not speaking. As far as he knows, Name is pulling away and isolating himself because he's left behind and lonely and it has nothing to do with his muteness.

And I love Name. Absolutely adore him and I will tear the world down if it meant he would start smiling again. But I think it's also important that we don't put Name on this pedestal of being some sort of perfect person incapable of mistakes. Not that he's made any mistakes. BUT as much as I love him and as much as it is not his fault, he is actively pushing the people closest to him away. He is choosing words that will hurt everyone, including himself. Again, it's in no way his fault, but I think it's important to note that the person on the receiving end of those messages is Em. Em is allowed to be hurt by them too. And when he noticed Name is being self destructive, his first instinct was to call...someone. Presumably someone he thought was in a position to help Name.

I don't think Em realizes the full extent of what Name is going through because he has no way to know. He's far away and he will only know what Name tells him. So from Em's perspective, he is super busy and exhausted all the time, and Name is lashing out about that. Because, again, Em has no way to know what Name's mother is doing to him. To Em, it's just a silly fight because he doesn't know any better. To Em, it's just Name angry that he's not available all of the time and it has nothing to do with his muteness. And Em is still trying to keep in contact. He's still trying to let Name know. He really listened to Gun's advice and he is trying. But he is not responsible for how Name responds. He can't control how upset Name is. And he can't help Name if he doesn't know what actually is wrong.

And as much as I love Name and as much as I want to rake his mother over the coals for her treatment of him, at some point, Name has to tell Em what's really bothering him. And trust me, I get it. I know how hard that is. I am also a person that tends to isolate myself and go silent when I'm going through it, but it's not the world's responsibility to fix my problems. My friends can't help if they don't know.

So while Em has most definitely fucked up, and owes Name the hugest of apologies, I think it's important to remember that he is still young and he is still human. He might be the catalyst for Name's breakdown but he's not the cause. Name's mother guilting him and pressuring him to "fix" himself when there's nothing wrong is the cause and she's the one placing all of the burden to help her son in the hands of Em, who seems like he's also struggling to keep it together.

[intheticklecloset]

Say Mercy (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: When Deku bets Shinsou that he can win in a tickle fight against him, Shinsou takes him up on the offer to find out.

A/N: YES YES YES!! This isn't officially ShinDeku but it's those two boys tickling each other and I liiiiive for this! I was so excited to finally write for them again! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 2,302

~~~

“Oh, give me a break,” Shinsou groaned, letting out a defeated sigh. His character spun off the track and had to be rescued, costing him precious seconds as Kaminari’s character whizzed by him into third place. “Dang it, I was actually doing well that time.”

Kami smirked, eyes glued to the screen. “Sorry, bro. Peach waits for no man!”

“She waits for Mario,” Deku pointed out.

“Details.”

The three of them were seated in the living room, having claimed the TV for the night in 1-A’s dorms. Deku was finally getting his wish to become better friends with the purple-haired boy. He’d been elated when his phone had buzzed with a text from him asking if he wanted to join in on some Mario Kart, and he nearly broke another bone in his haste to get to the living room. Kami had seemed concerned, but Shinsou looked amused.

Now they were on their final race in a four-race grand prix, and Kaminari was dominating them both. Deku was content to hang out in fourth and fifth place, but he did feel bad for Shinsou, who had gradually gotten better with each new track until he’d finally claimed third for the first two laps of the last race, only to be thwarted with a red shell.

Kami crossed the line in second, with Shinsou in fourth and Deku in seventh. The electric hero pumped his fists in the air. “Yeah, baby! Gold trophy!”

Deku and Shinsou exchanged amused glances.

“Just wait, Kaminari,” Deku said, grinning. “One of these days Shinsou is going to catch up to you and then you’ll be eating those words. And his dust.”

“Sure, sure.” Kami waved his hand, unbothered. “But I’m going to enjoy the moment while it lasts. I always lose against Bakugou; you gotta let me have this, Midoriya.” Just then his phone buzzed, and he let out a groan of his own. “Ah, crap. Speaking of Bakugou, I promised him and the others I’d study with them tonight. Stupid math, anyway.” He got to his feet and waved, heading out of the living room. “Night, guys. Have fun fighting for last place.”

“Rude!” Deku laughed, waving him out. “Go on. See you tomorrow.”

Then – for the first time – it was just Shinsou and Deku.

“Um,” Shinsou started, “perhaps I should head out, too. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“What? No! You’re more than welcome,” Deku said hurriedly, worried he wouldn’t get the opportunity to talk with his newest friend one-on-one. “Want to do another grand prix? We can knock it down from that 200cc insanity to something more manageable. I’m sure you can get first place if it’s a little easier.”

“With a handicap, you mean.”

“No!” Crap, think about your words, Deku! “No, I just mean that it might be smarter to start with something a little easier, that way you can work your way up. You can beat him on 200cc eventually, I just thought—”

“Midoriya,” Shinsou said, stopping his rambling with a smile. “I was kidding. Relax.”

“Oh. R-Right. Sorry.”

Shinsou chuckled, picking up his controller. “Let’s try 100cc. That way I’m not starting from the complete bottom of the Mario Kart ladder.”

“You know, you might be really good at Sonic racing instead,” Deku suggested, swapping out his player three controller for the player one controller Kami had left behind. “It’s a little more involved, but it’s also technique based more than just random luck. I think you’d be great at it.”

“Sonic has a racing game?”

“Well, yeah. It’s Sonic.”

“I suppose that’s a good point.”

From there the two of them settled into conversation with ease, discussing everything from video games to schoolwork to Shinsou’s latest run-in with Bakugou.

“I can’t believe Kacchan agreed to owe you a favor. He hates owing favors.”

“I got the sense that he was desperate, even if he wasn’t saying as much. It’s satisfying, honestly. I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyway, but it feels good to put that hothead in his place.”

Deku’s lips twitched in a small smile. “The only time I’ve ever really been able to ‘put him in his place’ is when we have tickle fights.”

“You have tickle fights with that maniac?”

“He’s my oldest friend, so it kind of comes with the territory. But it’s fun, too. I like it.”

Shinsou paused for a moment, not reacting at all to the fact that his character once again got knocked from first to fourth with a blue shell. “Sorry. I should be more sensitive. I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“Well…” Deku sighed. “We’re not good friends, really. But we’re not enemies either. It’s kind of weird.” He did his best to explain his current standing with Bakugou.

“I see.” Shinsou nodded. “Well, even so, I’ll try to be more delicate in the future. Despite my grievances, I know he does have friends in these dorms, as do I.”

Deku smiled at him, taking his eyes from the screen for a moment to observe his profile. “So you’re making friends after all, Mr. I’m-not-here-to-make-friends?”

“I wasn’t lying.” Shinsou smirked. “But you are nothing if not persistent individuals. You and Kaminari, especially. But…I’m grateful. It feels good to have people actually want to hang out with me.”

Deku went silent for a moment. He could only imagine the kind of social isolation Shinsou went through because of his quirk. He thought back to their fight at the sports festival. How genuinely angry and upset Shinsou had been. He wished he knew what to say, but before he could formulate a response, the boy from 1-C was changing the subject.

“So you and Bakugou have tickle fights, eh? Who wins those?”

“Um…m-mostly Kacchan.”

“I wonder why.”

Deku eyed him again. “Are you saying you don’t think I can win them?”

“Not against him, certainly.”

“I’ve won before! Once or twice…”

“How many times has he won?”

“Look, the number’s not important. What’s important is that we have fun.”

Shinsou laughed, and it was such a surprise the sound actually startled Deku for a moment. “I suppose that’s all that matters, right?”

Feeling emboldened by the conversation and that laugh, Deku challenged, “I bet I could win a tickle fight against you.”

“Oh?” Shinsou crossed the finish line, then turned to look at Deku, who suddenly grew nervous as he waited to cross a few places behind. “Bold words, Midoriya.”

Having finished the race, Deku turned to look at him, suddenly feeling flustered. “I-I mean…since I’ve tickled you before, and I know where your worst spot is already. I just feel like I’d have an advantage…” He trailed off. He knew where Bakugou’s worst spot was, too, but that rarely helped him win those tickle fights.

“I suppose I have been curious how ticklish you actually are, since I’ve never seen it for myself. I’ve only heard stories. Do you seriously get tickled almost every day in this class?”

“U-Um…y-yeah, I do. But I don’t mind.”

Shinsou smirked. “Which means you like it.”

Deku could feel himself blushing now. “Yeah.”

“All right, Midoriya,” Shinsou said, shifting in such a way that the green-haired boy instinctively scrambled back, blushing even harder when his friend chuckled. “I want in. You think you can win a tickle fight against me? How much are you willing to wager?”

“Um…” Deku scrambled to think of something. “I-I don’t know…what do you want?”

“A thousand yen says I win.”

“Oh, yeah? W-Well…two thousand says I win!”

“You’re that confident? Very well. Quirks or no quirks?”

Deku froze. “N-No quirks. It’s not because I’m afraid of you, I just—”

“It’s okay, Midoriya. No quirks is actually advantageous for me, since mine doesn’t help me physically.” Shinsou smirked, pushing his controller aside. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah. Ready.”

Deku barely had the words out before Shinsou was on him, shoving him to the floor with surprising speed and strength, wiggling his fingers into his sides.

“Eeep! Ahahahahahahaha, nohohohohohoho!” Deku giggled, trying to bat Shinsou’s hands away. “No fahahahahahahair! There wasn’t eheheheheheven a countdohohohown!”

“I asked if you were ready, and you said yes,” Shinsou replied calmly, grinning at the mess he’d made of 1-A’s most promising student, all with just a couple of light scribbles. “If you were lying, that’s your own fault.”

“G-Gehehehehehet off!” Deku squealed, reaching up to squeeze Shinsou’s ribs, pleased with the bright smile he got in response. He squeezed harder, willing himself to reach both hands up despite the continuing tickle attack on his own sides. “Get ohohohohohohoff!”

“N-No,” Shinsou grunted, obviously fighting back giggles of his own. He was tempted to reach for what he knew was a good spot, but decided against it for the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now he wanted to get to know every weak spot he could. He darted his own fingers up to Deku’s ribs and vibrated. “Heh, h-how’s it feel, Midoriya?”

“Fihihihihihihihine!” Deku shoved his hands up under Shinsou’s arms in retaliation. The purple-haired boy retracted his hands to bring his arms in protectively, giving Deku the opening he needed to push him over and grab at every ticklish spot he could think of. Ribs, sides, belly. He went for them all in rapid succession. “W-What about you, Shinsou? A little ticklish, huh?”

“D-Don’t – you cahahahan’t act like y-yohohou don’t already knohohow!” Shinsou protested, curling up into the fetal position on the floor, chuckling into the carpet.

“Why? Does it fluster you when I do that?” Deku used the opportunity to grab at his friend’s knees and squeeze. Shinsou kicked his legs out so hard in response he almost took Deku out with them. “Whoa!”

“S-Sohohorry,” Shinsou giggled, batting at the hands that had returned to his sides.

“Bad spot?”

“Nohohot really. Just surprised mehehehehe.”

“You’re not really fighting back, you know~” Deku teased, amused by the realization. “Do you want to owe me two thousand yen?”

“Juhuhuhust indulging a lihihihihittle. Dohohohon’t worry…” Shinsou suddenly shot upright and dug into Deku’s underarms. “I’ll still win this tickle fight!”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku screeched, falling back onto the floor with laughter bursting from his lungs. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

“Ooh~ Bad spot?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“No? You sure? You seem like you’re lying.” Shinsou grabbed one of Deku’s wrists and pinned it above his head, drilling deep into his underarm with his free hand.

Deku shrieked, tossing his head back and laughing unabashedly. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SHIHIHIHIHIHIHINSOU!!” He desperately tried to grab at any ticklish spot he could with his other arm. He managed to succeed in scribbling against Shinsou’s side, causing the taller boy to choke out a giggle and unpin him so he could fight back.

Without really thinking about it, Deku sat up and grabbed his hips, digging in deep.

Shinsou burst into his own round of laughter, grasping at Deku’s wrists and trying to push him away while also desperately trying to keep from falling over again. “NONONO – NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE YOU CHEHEHEHEHEATER!!”

“Cheater? There was no rule against worst spots, Shinsou.” Deku grinned, feeling a rush of happy satisfaction at having made Shinsou laugh so freely without even needing to pin him down first. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“SHUT UP!! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEASE ME, MIDORIYAHAHAHA!!” Shinsou flailed for a few moments more before grabbing Deku’s hips as well. “TAKE THIS!!”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Now Deku was laughing hysterically as well, trying to fight his attacker off while still keeping up his own tickling assault. “YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK!!”

“YOU STAHAHAHAHAHAHARTED IT!!”

It was a hilarious sight, the two of them tickling each other’s hips in the middle of the living room floor, Mario Kart long forgotten on the TV behind them, laughing loudly and desperately trying to push each other off. In the end, it came down to which of them was more ticklish, and soon the tides began to turn in Shinsou’s favor.

“HA!! CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T LAHAHAHAHAST FOREVER, CAN YOHOHOHOHOU, MIDORIYA?!”

“NOHOHOHOHOOOOO!!” Deku whined as he finally relented his own attack to focus on defense, grabbing Shinsou’s wrists and trying to push him away. “NO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!”

“I can’t help it if you’re just that ticklish,” Shinsou teased, still smiling uncontrollably as he finally managed to push Deku to the floor and straddle him, kneading into his hips deeply. “Much better. This is how I suspected this would end.”

Deku fought for a few more moments, then finally gave up and relented, kicking his legs wildly and holding onto Shinsou’s wrists weakly, feeling the muscles in his hands move as they tickled him, only making him more sensitive. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!! FINE YOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIN!! I GIHIHIHIHIHIVE UP!!”

Shinsou smirked, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his friend’s desperate cries. “Say mercy.”

“MEHEHEHEHEHEHERCY!! MERCY, MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

For a long moment, Shinsou kept up his assault, not saying a word, making Deku shriek with ticklish panic at the fleeting thought that maybe he wouldn’t stop after all. But then, finally, it was all over, and he could breathe again. He gulped in large doses of oxygen greedily, reaching up to wipe the corners of his eyes where mirthful tears had started to form.

“You okay?” Shinsou asked, chuckling a little at the sight.

Deku sputtered out some leftover giggles and sat up. “Y-Yeah. I’m good.”

“You owe me two thousand yen.”

“Jeez, you don’t waste any time, do you, Shin?”

Shin? The boy from 1-C smiled a little at the nickname. “Not if I can help it, no. Told you I’d take you down.”

“In a tickle fight, maybe,” Deku conceded, picking up his player one controller and brandishing it with a new kind of challenging spark in his eye. “But I bet you still can’t win gold even on 100cc!”

Shinsou laughed, grabbing his own controller and knocking it against Deku’s like they were doing a fist-bump. “You’re on.”

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

[16woodsequ]

Can I have some more Steve headcannons please?

Okay! *rubs hands together* Today is a kind of ‘meh’ day for me, so Imma hype myself up with some headcanons ^^

Previous headcanon post, and second one.

TW: discussion of PTSD and panic attacks, and just general angst

Alright *checks notes* first headcanon:

Steve knew about the bugs that SHIELD had in his apartment before Fury told him.

I really like this headcanon, and I put it everywhere. But basically, I think that Steve is smart and observant enough to have found the bugs that SHIELD put into his apartment. 

So why would he leave them there? That feeds into another headcanon that I sort of mentioned before, that Steve likes to underestimated. Obviously, SHIELD thought that he either wouldn’t suspect them to bug his home, or he wouldn’t be tech-savvy enough to find the devices. I think Steve wanted to keep it that way. If he removed the bugs, then SHIELD would know he found them, and would react accordingly.

I think Steve would decide it was better to know where the bugs are, rather than remove them and risk having SHIELD put more in that he can’t find. Also, if SHIELD thinks that he doesn’t suspect anything, then they will think whatever they get from his apartment is genuine.

Usually in my mind, SHIELD only implants audio bugs, instead of visual, and they leave his bathroom without bugs.

This is important cuz, for extra angst, now we get to imagine Steve trying to manage his PTSD in an apartment that he knows is bugged. 

As you might know with my ‘SHIELD’s A+ Parenting’ headcanon, I fully think Hydra was willing to let Steve struggle with his PTSD, and I doubt they would have done anything if/when they learned about it... but Steve doesn’t know that. So now we have Steve trying to cover for his PTSD in his own home, and the only respite his has is maybe the bathroom.

With audio feeds only at least, he only has to worry about not making a lot of noise during his flashbacks/nightmares etc, but that is still a lot of pressure. (And don’t imagine Steve curled up and panicking on the floor of his bathroom, cuz that’ll just make you sad).

More SHIELD A+ Parenting/ Hydra is terrible

Going along with Hydra-being-inside-SHIELD-didn’t-help-Steve’s-PTSD: If SHIELD gave Steve some kind of counsellor or psychologist after he woke up from the ice, then I headcanon it was a Hydra agent.

That is terrible for several reasons. For one, Steve’s first experience with modern psychology would be with someone - unbeknownst to him - who did not actually want the best for his wellbeing.

Second, and going along with that, if his Hydra-therapist were to be less helpful than would be ideal, Steve wouldn’t know the difference really, and the people at SHIELD would not suspect that there was a problem. They would think he was getting psychological help, when in reality, he was getting anything but.

This would explain why SHIELD dropped the ball so hard with Steve.

Third, after SHIELD, I imagine Steve would be reluctant to get actual help. At some point he is going to have to learn what actual therapy is like. And, maybe, when Natasha puts all of SHIELD’s records onto the internet, he finally learns the his original psychologist was Hydra. That would be extremely violating, and I imagine it would take him a long time afterwards to trust going to a therapist at all— even with encouragement from Sam.  

Final headcanon for the day, and going along with the terrible Hydra psychologist: Hydra and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Cabin

This one gets my blood boiling because it is actually canon that SHIELD (/Hydra), sent Steve to “The Retreat” at some point after he woke up from the ice. (This is mentioned in Agents of SHIELD, not in the movies.)

What is The Retreat you asks? Here is the wiki on it, here is the gist:

This safe house retreat is a log cabin that is lined with the same vibranium alloy that is used in "The Cage" on the Bus. The S.H.I.E.L.D. battering ram took a long time to penetrate the door, even though it took very short for them to penetrate the highly armored SUV of Nick Fury. The kitchen was fully equipped with a fridge, sink, and microwave. The living room has a few couches, however, they are very uncomfortable. There is a computer in one corner. A laser fence also lines the perimeter of the property, keeping everything inside contained. Security cameras show everything that happens along the area.

 So. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, with security cameras everywhere, and a laser fence around the perimeter.

In other words. A very fancy cell.

*unidentifiable sounds of rage*

Okay. *breathes*. So. We don’t know when, or how long Steve stayed at the cabin (Coulson said ‘after he was defrosted’ and ‘a few weeks’), but, as you can imagine, I have headcanons about those.

Usually I headcanon that Steve is at the cabin for about two weeks, and that SHIELD/Hydra sold it to him as ‘a quiet place were he can catch up on what he missed’. Meaning that they left him there with all the files of the history he missed and told him he could leave once he was finished going through them.

I imagine his (hydra) therapist told him that in order to pass his psych exam for SHIELD, he would need to go to The Retreat. Which is wonderfully manipulative, because it would force Steve to go through all those (probably traumatic) files all by himself if he wants to a) leave the cabin, and b) work for SHIELD (and you can bet that his hydra-therapist made it seem unlikely that he would be able to manage working anywhere else in the 21st century.)

Now, headcanons as to when he did this. I have two separate versions that live side-by-side in my head:

One: SHIELD did this to him before the Battle of New York. 

This is just sad because it would mean that Steve spent two+ weeks isolated and alone, reading up on everything he missed, but not really being able to learn about and experience the world he woke up in, before suddenly having to fight aliens and meet his dead-friend’s son (who is 15 years older than him) shortly after finally getting out. 

If you want a reason for Steve being high-strung in Avengers, and doing his utmost not to show his PTSD because then he might get sent back to the cabin? Then there you go.

Two: SHIELD sent him to the cabin after the Battle of New York. 

I don’t know why, but unlike a lot of people, at the end of Avengers, I didn’t assume that Steve was driving off on his motorcycle to ‘see the world’ or whatever. I instinctively interpreted it as him just driving back to his apartment.

So, if we decide that Steve decides he wants to join SHIELD at the end of Avengers, then that is when SHIELD/Hydra might decide to send him to the cabin.

Which is just great cuz I’m sure fighting aliens and watching people die only a short while after waking up from the ice was just great for Steve and he didn’t need any support or anything during that time. Nah. Isolate him alone in a cabin. Should be fine. 

If you want a reason for Steve distrusting therapists and never wanting to admit having problems because he thinks that basically institutionalizing people is still a legitimate technique? There you go.

One day I will write a fic about this bloody cabin, but I haven’t yet.  

So yeah. SHIELD/Hydra sucks. And Steve suffered for it.

Apparently we got really angsty headcanons today, but they were fun to share! I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more headcanons let me know! 

Headcanon masterpost

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 10: Grief

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

You take a crack at grieving together. Now this definitely feels like progress. There's much more going on here than meets the eye.

A/N: Hope you're all having a lovely Sunday <3 thank you for reading, i really appreciate you! This is a long, long chapter but I couldn't find a place to break it up.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Against your better instincts you followed Liu Kang to the first floor of the hotel and into the bar attached to it. The lights were dim inside, a tactic to keep patrons inside longer by losing track of time. The more time they lingered the more money they would spend. You’d gone to a casino with Kung Lao a few times and had completely lost track of time. You and Liu sat at a table near the entrance to the lobby. You watched people as they walked through the lobby while Liu ordered something to eat.

Things were awkward.

You weren’t sure what to say and Liu didn’t seem to, either. It was just him eating while you watched the world pass by in the lobby. You imagined what their lives had to be like, what kind of adventures they were returning from, the sorts of nights they were having. There were happy couples and less than happy couples, tired families, and drunk stragglers.

Then, much to your surprise, Liu filled the silence. That wasn’t something he had often done. You had once been comfortable with silence alongside each other. That was no longer the case. He told you stories about when he’d first gone to the academy, about adventures he’d gone on with Kung Lao. They’d been troublemakers but you’d always known that. Kung Lao had told you some of these same stories but his perspective had been very different. It was comical to hear Liu’s point of view and it had broken the awkwardness.

In fact, the awkwardness was completely forgotten. You laughed when it was appropriate and Liu pushed his empty plate aside. You were grateful that he had broken the ice. Hearing him talk more like his old self made things much easier.

Then you told him stories about trips you’d gone on with Kung Lao. Liu was a rapt and generous audience, commenting in all the right places, laughing when it was expected. Even if he’d already heard the stories from Kung Lao, he acted as though they were new and exciting to him, just as you had done for him.

These had been stories you’d wanted to tell him for years but had been too afraid to be that close to him again. You tended to get closer when you spoke, like two kids sharing intimate secrets. That was often how you’d wound up in each other’s arms when you’d first been sleeping together. Sharing stories had gotten them close and then one thing led to another.

You hadn’t gotten this close since then until now.

And yes, even now, you found yourself getting closer to him as you talked. You were both leaned on the table close to each other. You had your hand on the side of your neck and realized that your body language was a little flirtatious without having meant to. The waiter took the empty plate and asked if you needed anything else. Out of politeness you ordered drinks just for show.

The drinks looked tasty. You wanted to drink it but knew it was a terrible idea. You were with Liu which made it a far worse idea than it would have been otherwise. Especially with everything going on over the last week. It was late too, another strike against you. According to your phone it was past midnight already.

Conversation faded as you sat close together and the mood fell into sadness. You were both thinking the same thing. After talking about Kung Lao for hours how could you not be? Thinking about anything other than how much you missed him and how sad you were would have been unnatural.

“I know that it’s selfish,” you began while fiddling with the edges of the soaked napkin beneath your glass, “but sometimes I wonder if he thought about me in those last moments.” Liu’s gaze turned up from your hand but you avoided his eyes. His eyes were dark and sad, as if he didn’t want you thinking those things. “I hope that he didn’t. I hope…” You drifted off with a sigh. “I honestly don’t know what I hope anymore. I’m so mixed up.”

“Of course he thought about you, Y/N.” He placed his hand over yours to stop you from playing with the napkin. “I know that because I thought about you then. So, of course Lao did.” You furrowed your brow. Why would Liu think of you? He’d lost his brother. All he had to have been thinking about was his grief and what he could do to help. “He loved you.” You inhaled sharply. “And no matter how much we’ve been fighting, Y/N, it kills me to see you heartbroken.” You rolled your eyes and he grasped your hand a bit tighter. “No, really. This has been hard for me. Okay?”

“Okay.” You looked to him so skeptically that he laughed. You knew that it was hard for him but you weren’t sure that the cruel things that he’d said the last few days had anything to do with his difficulty dealing with it.

“I know that I’ve broken something here. I don’t… I don’t know how to fix it.”

You averted your eyes and looked to the drink so close to your hand. Liu followed your gaze and furrowed his brow.

“That won’t fix it either, Y/N.”

“Yeah, that definitely made it worse.” You looked away from the drink.

“I don’t know. At least we’re talking now. We weren’t before that. We were avoiding each other.”

“Maybe you were avoiding me. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Liu pulled his hands away from yours and you did too. You’d been holding them for too long without realizing and it seemed you’d both realized it at the same time.

“You have no idea what was going on in my head, Liu.” You tapped your finger on the table as if to tell him, again, that he couldn’t assume what you were thinking.

“Because you were avoiding me so how could I?”

“Like you weren’t avoiding me or something!” You threw the accusation right back at him and much to your surprise, he shrugged.

“I was absolutely avoiding you. I felt guilty. I feel guilty.” He fixed the tense with a roll of his eyes, lips perking up into a smile for only a second.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, Liu.” You folded your arms on the table. “I was avoiding everyone. It didn’t have anything to do with you.” You hated that you could feel his eyes on you, that he had such an intense stare. You could feel the path of his gaze as he looked you over. “I was sad. And tired. Tired of everyone looking at me with pity. It was… look, I know it was bad. I was isolating myself. I wasn’t avoiding anyone in particular, Liu. Sure, it hurt to see you but only because I was sad for you. It wasn’t… like that though.” You felt like you’d said too much and also not enough at the same time. This wasn’t an easy conversation to have.

“I hadn’t considered that.” His voice had softened and he gently placed his hand on your forearm. His hand was warm and comforting, thumb gently brushing against your skin.

“Yeah. That’s what I keep trying to tell you but you won’t listen. Don’t make assumptions, Liu. It hurts me to see you like this, of course, but it wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to see you.” You laughed a little in disbelief. “You’re the only one who could have possibly understood my grief and yet… I didn’t want to diminish yours. Then I finally get the chance and the courage to talk to you and I was… so incredibly wasted that I don’t remember much of it at all. I barely remember you joining me for a drink.” You leaned back in your chair in frustration, folding your arms beneath your chest nervously.

“…you didn’t seem wasted.” He pushed his hair back and then leaned his arm over the back of his chair, turning to face you. He seemed frustrated and you couldn’t rightly blame him for it. You wondered if he had thought that you weren’t drunk, that you would remember what you’d done. Had he thought you’d been crawling into bed together to find solace in each other’s arms? Then you’d run off in a panic. Oh no, you felt like an asshole. Your heart was suddenly racing. You had told him not to assume what you’d been thinking and there you’d been assuming what he’d been thinking. Damn.

You’d made so many mistakes in the last few weeks that it was laughable. You were a tornado, uprooting everything in your path. Damnit, Kung Lao. You closed your eyes and then pinched the bridge of your nose. There was that damn guilt again. It would never end. You were just so sorry for everything. You couldn’t fix anything.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I wish our last conversation hadn’t been a promise to figure things out.” You huffed. That had been the very first sign of the funnel clouds that had started this. That was where you’d started doing damage. “That I had just told him I’d loved him and we would figure it out. Everything would work out. Instead, we fought and it was all left hanging before I had to leave. We barely even said goodbye. I figured that we’d fight about it when I got home and then makeup the way that we always did.” You couldn’t have known. You knew that. It still hurt though. Liu seemed to understand. You were glad that he didn’t belittle you by telling you not to feel the way you felt. You were tired of being told that.

“It’s not like you could have known but… I get it. I didn’t get to say goodbye either. There’s no way to know, Y/N. If we had known then we wouldn’t have let it happen.” Liu looked as though this thought had weighed heavily on him, too. “We would have stopped it.” He leaned against the table again. “I couldn’t stop it.” You placed your hand comfortingly on his shoulder and he stared at his hands. “It replays in my head sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine having that in my head.”

“I’m glad that you don’t, Y/N.” He closed his eyes and you gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning back to the table and admiring the drink once again. It probably didn’t even taste good anymore. Watered down with the ice all melted. Probably wouldn’t even give you a buzz. You’d kill to be drunk instead of feeling as miserable as you were. Much to your surprise, Liu laughed, hands folded neatly beneath his chin.

“What?”

“Kung Lao didn’t tell me that he was planning on proposing.” He laughed again as though this were very funny but you didn’t think it was funny. In fact, you thought it was weird.

“Really?” It was hard to believe. Kung Lao wasn’t exactly good at keeping his excitement to himself and you were sure that he’d had to talk to someone about it or at least get consultation on the kind of ring and the size and all that. It had been a beautiful ring. You didn’t know what had become of it. It wasn’t an expensive looking ring, quite the contrary, but it had been very Kung Lao. That was all that you’d needed. You weren’t the type to care much about jewelry. You barely wore any to begin with. “You did seem pretty surprised when I told you. I thought the two of you talked about everything.”

“We didn’t talk about you. Not like that at least.”

“I’m… well, I guess that’s unexpected? That’s what I mean to say.”

“I think that Kung Lao was afraid of what I would say if we talked too much about you. Either that or he just knew that I was still… the way that I am.” He folded his hands together on the table as if unsure what to do with them. “Kung Lao understood that this… this was complicated.” He gestured to you with just his index finger without turning toward you.

“Oh.” Your stomach sunk into that pit again. You let your fingers nervously play with the napkin again. Had he really been thinking about it all this time? Had he been feeling like this throughout your entire relationship with Kung Lao? Just watching from the sidelines while his best friend got to experience love and happiness while he’d sacrificed any chance with you that he’d had? You had never given yourself that much importance to either one of them but there he was, fixating on something that had happened years ago. It wasn’t so farfetched now that you thought about it. You hadn’t exactly gotten over him either. You thought that you had but this week had proven how untrue that was. You were still heartbroken after all these years.

He grasped your hand and you returned the gentle squeeze he gave it. You expected him to get go but instead he held onto it like he would lose you if he didn’t.

“I wish that he and I had talked about it. That we hadn’t avoided it.” He sighed and you smiled. At least you weren’t the only one who talked that way.

“Do you often dwell on the things you didn’t do, too?” You smiled and he nodded but seemed to think that was obvious. It was but it also felt nice to hear it from someone else. You wondered if that was partially what all your fighting had stemmed from. Maybe Liu Kang was dwelling on his regrets and trying to change some of them. He was doing a piss poor job, you thought. “I think about that kind of thing all the time.” You pulled your hand back from his when he made no move to let go. You leaned back. “I think Kung Lao would have loved it here in Hollywood. I used to make martial artists from his favorite movies out of ink for him to fight all the time. He loved that.”

“I remember.” Liu Kang smiled fondly but he was lost thinking about other things.

“When I went sightseeing earlier, I took pictures of things that I thought he’d want to see. It was… it felt nice.” Liu scooted his chair closer to yours, knee gently pressing against yours.

“Can I see them?”

You pulled the phone out of your pocket and showed him the photos from your day out. Major landmarks you’d visited, random pictures of passersby, movie posters, stars on the Walk of Fame. You scrolled through them, explaining them and why you’d taken them. Then you stopped on the last photo that you’d taken on the beach the day before. You kept that picture on the screen for a time. You could feel the sadness radiating from it. Then it felt like a great weight was set on your shoulders. You were grateful for the pictures of Liu. Even if they weren’t the happiest memories, they were important.

“You’re right, Y/N. He would have liked that.” Liu seemed just as weighed down but he still smiled fondly at you. “That was really sweet of you.” You set the phone down.

“Maybe that’s something I can keep doing. Then maybe it won’t feel like such a… weight. I could honor his memory by doing things that I know he would enjoy rather than being so… sad all the time.” You watched the screen go dim on the phone. “And I am. I’m sad. But maybe I won’t always be. And I know…” You held up your hand to quiet him before he could object because you had heard every mental health mantra in the book by that point. “I know that it’s okay to feel the way that I’m feeling but I also can’t help but think that he wouldn’t want me to be this sad. Even when we were fighting, he tried to make me laugh.” You smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, he’d be furious with me if he saw how upset I’ve made you the past few days.” Liu smirked.

“Yeah. Probably would have smacked you right in the back of the head.”

“Oh, probably way worse than that. If he knew I’d made you cry? Oof…” He laughed at himself. “And I would deserve it but at the same time… we… let so much go for so long. I never felt good about it.” He moistened his lips nervously and you tried not to stare at them. You really did, but it was impossible. “I was never good at being dishonest, Y/N.”

You looked down at your hands and then back at your drink. It would be so much easier to have just gotten drunk and then forgotten this night too. Talking was exhausting. You wanted the courage that liquor brought. You could tell him that he deserved happiness just as much as Kung Lao had. And that you would happily suffer for the rest of your days so that he could have peace and joy.

“If he could see us now.” Your voice felt small and frail.

“He’d smack us both upside the head.”

“And we would deserve it.” You watched the condensation drip on the side of your glass.

“We need to talk.” His voice was somber.

“It does seem to keep coming back to that, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think you’re right about it though.”

“How so?” You’d said so many things the last few days, you couldn’t remember that specific thing.

“It’s going to be a fight.”

“Well…” You began but then drifted off and laughed, deciding not to say the first thing that came to mind. You had said that earlier, hadn’t you?

“What?”

“I almost started a fight just now.” You turned toward him and he cocked his head curiously.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“No… no, I don’t think that I will.” You brushed your thumb nervously over your other hand. “Because we willfight and we’re in public, Liu. It’s one thing when we’re in the middle of the woods to scream at each other but… another here.” You gestured to the other busy tables surrounding you. The bar was still bustling with people despite the late hour.

“Try me.”

“Umm…” You said in a higher tone and he laughed. “Your temper has been pretty off the wall the last few days. And I have a tremendous amount of self-loathing right now but not enough to actually start a fight in the middle of a busy bar.”

“Well, what if I said that I was feeling pretty in control right now?” Liu Kang offered. Wow, he really wanted you to start that fight. You couldn’t decide if that was impressive or not.

“Okay. I was going to say considering that you… broke my heart with a lie all those years ago and then bottled all that up so you could watch Kung Lao find happiness at the expense of your own that it was… most definitely going to be a fight.” You watched his expression shift and it was almost comical. His lips flattened into a straight line. He leaned back in his chair, arm rested on the back of your chair, fingers tapping against it.

“Yeah. Mmhmm.”

“Still feeling in control?” You winced.

He inhaled sharply and rotated his neck and looked as though it were taking all of his self-control not to say anything.

“See? I told you that I almost started a fight. I tried to give you an out, Liu.”

“Yep.” The emphasis he had on the word was comical. It was clear that he had some thoughts on what you’d said and that it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to act on them.

“You’re mad, huh?”

He nodded. You laughed, resting your elbow on the table and resting your head in your palm.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” You batted your eyelashes at him but then looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Okay, I’m not. It felt a little nice to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Your smile was forced and fell quickly. “This has been… painful.”

Liu nodded and then leaned next to you against the table. “I wish I could go back. I can’t. I know I can’t. I still keep thinking about it.”

“Do you though, Liu?” You scoffed. He’d made that clear. These ‘what if’ scenarios had become exhausting.

“What would you have done? If I had asked you to stay with me, what would you have done?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Liu, because that isn’t what happened.”

“But if…”

“I said that I don’t know.” You took his hand and held it on the table with both of yours. “I don’t know, Liu.” When he went to object again, you looked to him seriously. “Stop.”

“I keep kicking myself.”

“Stop, Liu.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel just like I don’t get to tell you how to feel.”

“I’m not trying to, Liu. All we have is the here and now. The past is the past. I keep telling myself that too. It’s hard, but it’s been done.” You held his hand comfortingly. “It doesn’t matter that you lied then.”

“Y/N, I…”

“It doesn’t matter that what you said was a lie because it was what I believed to be true.”

“How could you have possibly believed that was all you meant to me?” His frustration radiated off of him. You let go of his hand and turned away. “It was months, Y/N.” Apparently, the past wasn’t the past to Liu Kang. “Months. Not just a handful of nights where we were desperate and lonely. Months and we…”

“Liu, we came here to mourn.” You stiffened up.

“We need to talk.”

“Not in public we don’t. Not now.”

“Then when, Y/N?” His voice rose a little and you snapped your gaze to him but said nothing. “You waited to talk to Kung Lao and…”

“That’s not fair.”

He turned his gaze away from yours and you held your head in your hands, pushing your hair out of your face in frustration. You were so tired of this. Tired of the guilt and frustration. It was killing you.

“We were supposed to be grieving together. Not fighting. That was the deal, remember?”

“Yeah, well I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to take both of these drinks, slam them down, and go pass out somewhere instead of having this conversation with you,” you grumbled.

“So, do you just drink all your problems away now?”

“No, but I wish I could drink this away. Would be nice.”

“Is that why I couldn’t tell that you were so wasted that night? Why I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember if we…”

“Stop, Liu.” You snapped at him and then grabbed his hand again to plead with him. “Stop. Seriously. What are we doing?” He didn’t seem to understand. “We had a nice night for the first time in so long and now we’re picking fights with each other. Why? To feel something? I… Liu, I’m so tired. I can’t do this with you tonight.” He shifted uncomfortably so you let go of his hand.

“Yeah. I guess it’s easier to fight than it is to actually deal with any of it.”

“Is it though?” You joked in that playful high-pitched tone. He chuckled but his smile fell quickly.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay.” He assured you.

“Are you though?” There was that sarcasm again.

“Are you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You hoped that your sarcasm would help cut the tension a little and he laughed, so there was that. You were quiet but not for long. You were afraid of what he’d say to fill the silence so you filled it. “I was thinking that maybe we could… do something nice together at some point for him. Make a list that would honor his memory and then go through it.” You tried to bring the conversation back around. Liu stared at you in surprise. “Obviously, you don’t have to be part of it if you don’t want to be but I thought it would be nice for us to have something to do together that wasn’t so… destructive.” All they really had right now was grief, sex, and fighting.

Liu placed his hand over both of yours and then tilted you to him with his other hand. His thumb brushed over your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he tilted you upwards and much to your surprise, his lips pressed against yours. Your heart shot into your throat and you made to pull your hands back but he grasped them gently. His lips were soft and sweet and while you hesitated, Liu didn’t. You forgot where you were and why you were talking. You forgot that you were supposed to be grieving. It felt to you like it was taking all of his energy not to push the kiss further. His hand cupped your cheek, practically taking up the entire side of your face. It was a nostalgic and terrifying feeling.

You hesitated only for that first second but it was second nature to want to return that kiss. God, it felt nice to be kissed and even nicer that it was Liu. His touch had always been like his arcana, fiery. His lips were a fond but heartbreaking memory. It made your chest ache in both the best and worst way. You shivered all over. His hand tangled in your hair, pushing it away from your face and holding you in the soft, slow, and intimate kiss.

There was no liquor involved this time. No excuse that could be made on behalf of either of them. Liu Kang had kissed you and you had kissed him back. His lips pulled back from yours, but lingered close, close enough that if either of you spoke then you’d be touching again. His breath was hot against your lips, slow and measured and you were afraid to open your eyes, afraid of what he’d say after that.

A few blissful seconds had gone by where you’d forgotten about everything in between your days together and now. His lips weren’t a memory anymore, they were right there, begging to be kissed.

Finally, you opened your eyes when Liu didn’t move or talk. You didn’t look into his eyes, afraid of what you’d find. You looked at his lips, so close, slightly parted. Then your eyes darted to where his hand still rested over yours on the table. You pulled your hand closed into a fist beneath his palm and he gave it a soft squeeze.

It didn’t matter what the guilt was doing and oh boy, there was guilt. Because beyond that, stronger than that, was a deep and desperate longing that you’d bottled up and clung to for years. You had a draw, a connection that was impossible to fight. It seemed increasingly likely that the only reason that connection had thinned was because Liu had lied and retreated.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you could feel Liu’s eyes on you, his hand still tangled in your hair. You dared to look back up at him against every instinct in your body that told you to pull back and put your foot down.

If he kissed you again then you wouldn’t stop him. You were weak. You knew if you didn’t stop him then one thing would lead to another and you would wind up together and this time there would be no alcohol to blame it on. As much as you had mentally joked about wanting to remember the fun you’d had with him, you knew the guilt would be devastating.

He was thinking it too. Every so often, Liu wore his heart on his sleeve and this was one of those moments. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to so badly but he knew what would happen if he did.

Then the bartender was announcing that the establishment would be closing in five minutes. They were to pay their bills and be on their way. Other patrons began to gather their things and get ready to leave.

Liu let you go and you pulled back almost simultaneously. You ran your fingers through your hair to shake it out and then took the bill that the waiter left on your table and shoved some cash at it. You hoped your math had been done well enough. Your brain was just in no mood for numbers. Liu double checked and you would have usually been annoyed but right now you were grateful. He handed you back an extra bill that you’d shoved in there and you would have laughed had your heart not been beating a mile a minute and your hands hadn’t been shaking.

Somehow it was two in the morning. You’d stayed there the whole night. If you hadn’t ended up kissing then you would have been proud of yourselves for having made it through the whole night and several difficult conversations without screaming at each other.

If it wasn’t one then it was the other.

You gathered your jacket and slipped it on your shoulders before walking with Liu into the lobby. You took their time, letting other patrons make their way to the elevators first. He kept looking at you and you kept searching for a way to end the night that didn’t lead with more bad decisions. But he hadn’t said anything either. You needed to say something to either end the night or decide where to go next. If either one of you said something, it was likely that that you would end up arguing. If you could just not mention the kiss it might be fine.

Because if you fought, you’d probably end up kissing him. One led to the other and the other caused the other. It was a vicious cycle.

“Would it be okay to walk you to your room?” He broke the silence, something quite brave all things considered. You considered making him say goodnight before they got in the elevator but then you’d have to take the stairs to avoid him and that would be silly. Besides, what was the harm in it? He’d walk you to your room and you’d be free after those few more awkward moments.

“Sure.” You were surprised you didn’t sound haughty thanks to your nerves. It wasn’t that you were mad at him. You were mad at yourself. Mad that you let him kiss you, mad that you’d returned the kiss, mad that you’d wanted to keep kissing him. Worst of all, you were mad that it had felt so damn good.

The elevator was awkward and silent. Liu leaned against the back wall, arms folded over his chest, eyes on the floor. You slammed the button for your floor about twelve times more than necessary and then stayed close to the grid of buttons. Just a few more minutes and the night would be over.

You were coaching yourself not to let him into your room. Why had you even considered it? You didn’t think that he would ask to come in. If he were smart then he definitely wouldn’t try to push his luck. Then again, Liu Kang had become a very different animal over the last week. He was more impulsive than you were used to him being.

The problem was that if you let him into your room then you would absolutely end up sleeping with him because you wanted to which was one of the most frustrating thoughts you’d ever had.

The doors to the elevator opened and so you led them down the hall toward your room. His was only a few doors down. You had purposely not gotten rooms next to each other but it was still close enough that it wouldn’t be too terribly out of his way. You leaned against the door to your room, holding your keycard against your phone behind your back.

You wouldn’t let him in.

You couldn’t.

“Thanks for spending the evening with me.” Liu looked to the door behind you and then back over you. “And for forgiving me.” The moment was less awkward and Liu didn’t seem like he was going to push you. You were thankful. You could still taste his lips on yours and you’d have that memory for the rest of the night.

“Oh?” You chuckled. “Did I forgive you?”

“Uh…” Liu looked suddenly nervous, his soft smile fading. “I guess that you didn’t.”

“Liu…” You began with a sigh, nervous to start a fight. But you had to talk about these things eventually. “I’m still mad about a lot of the things you’ve said the last few days.”

“And we still have to talk about that.”

“Yeah, look, I understand that you’re sorry but you have also made it clear that you meant much of what you said in the last week so it’s not as simple a thing as forgiving you.”

“Yeah.” He took a step closer and took your free hand. “I understand that. I’m still grateful that you didn’t tell me to shove it the way that you had every right to.” He brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of your knuckles. You rolled your eyes so hard that he laughed.

“I know you far too well to think that you’re charming, Liu. Especially after the last few days. Nice try though.” You pulled your hand back from him and he shrugged but he had a grin on his face. That night he’d implied that he thought you’d sought too much solace in drink. That was far from charming. You’d said plenty of unpleasant things to him too. You were on evening footing with lack of charm.

“I am charming, Y/N.”

“Go to bed, you giant dork.” You weren’t opening that door until he’d walked away. You didn’t trust yourself. It would be so easy to invite him inside and take out some of that pent up frustration. You knew he was thinking it too. The way that he lingered, the way that his eyes darted down to your hand where you held your key and back to your eyes. Inviting him in would definitely take care of some of that frustration you both felt at least until tomorrow. Then you’d be even more frustrated. “Goodnight, Liu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You watched him walk away and then retreated into your room.

Next Chapter >>

[huearmy]

The Smell Of Truth - VI

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 6751 

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Grafic description of food. If you are hungry, eat before you read this. Seriously. AND. Jungkook have a anxiety attack, the description is light and focuses mainly on techniques to control the attack, but be aware if you are sensitive to the topic. Even because I wrote this part to help those who, like me, suffer from chronic anxiety and not to trigger anything :) Be safe.

A/N: Sorry it took too long, my head is messy, and I working on something new, and didn’t ajust myself to it yet.

THIS IS A TRANSITION CHAPTHER! I HAD A HARD TIME TO DEVELOP IT AND I STARTED EVERYTHING AGAIN AT SOME POINT AFTER AN MENTAL BREAKDOWN.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III  Chapter IV   Chapter V  - Chapter VII

One month has passed by since Jungkook first moved in. The apartment looks pretty much like his now, little details showing up his presence here and there, like his personal hygiene items in the bathroom, and his pairs of shoe in the shoe cabinet by the front door, the air filled with his favorite music which he discovered himself on spotify and youtube, the kitchen cabinets and the fridge are full of things you wouldn't normally buy but he would, and all of your streaming accounts now have two user profiles. At first Jungkook didn't think about it too much, you're just so welcoming to him, but he started paying attention to how he should or could or couldn't act to not bother you, since his presence itself is a big change in your routine. You made it very clear, even without saying it out loud with all the words, that this attitude was something mutual so that the two of you could live well together. Still, it wasn't a good first month... not that it was a bad one either, because it wasn't. It's just that... ________________________________________________________________________________________ First of all. In the first ten days everything was taken and shaped by the boyfriend phenomenon. Said name for this unfortunate situation involving Jackson was given by Jungkook's therapist in the first appointment, but we'll talk about this later. Basically all your attention and time were totally directed to your boyfriend during the whole period that he was in the city, and even though he preferred to stay in his own apartment instead of with you - as is usual the two of you - it looked like he had moved in, because when Jungkook wake up in the morning he is already there, in the living room monopolizing the tv, and when he was going to sleep at night, Jungkook could still hear the guy making you laugh in the kitchen. This was justified with a "Soon I have to go back to the capital to work and we will be apart from each other for a long time. We need to make up for it!" And after saying that, Jackson would pull you around the waist to kiss you on the temple, and you would just smile, avoiding eye contact with your face red. At the end of that time, Jungkook got closer to your friends - now his friends too - than to you, who live with him.  Of course you tried not to leave him feeling isolated, after all Jungkook is the exception of your heart, and although you are not used to it, you have a huge affection for him... hard to explain. You did everything you could to try to make him feel comfortable around Jackson - since early on you noticed Jungkook's reservation about him - including him in the conversations and also taking time just for the two of you. But it was difficult, because besides your boyfriend, the weather closed for days canceling all picnic and park plans, an you still had two jobs to deal with, and one of them - that of the law firm - was almost abusive as much work you had to do. Jungkook noticed your exhaustion and wanted not to charge you too much, but at the same time he didn't want to give up lying on the couch with you to watch a movie late at night to receive a pet on his hair.

One night, after Jackson was gone to his apartment, the two of you were doing just that. A blanket covered the two of you on the couch, keeping you warm while a cartoon played on the TV. Jungkook's head was lying on your chest, and you lazily messed with his hair. He could hear your heartbeat, and your voice vibrate as you laugh and comment on the episode. After a while your hand stopped and there was only the sound of your heart, and he saw that you had fallen asleep.

"Y/N?" He whispered to you, getting no response. He thought that you weren't in the most comfortable of positions, with a slightly bent neck on the pillow, so he considered taking you to your room to let you sleep better... He was sleepy too. He thought about it so much, looking at you sleeping, trying to decide, that he slept above you.  

Can't tell how much time has passed, probably not much, but Jungkook was even dreaming when the front door click opening broke his slumber slightly, he wasn't awake yet, but he was listening to the steps of someone walking around the apartment. It was Jackson looking for his phone he forgot. If it weren't for the TV on, he wouldn't have seen you two sleeping on the couch in the dark room, when he went to turn it off he came across the lovely scene of you two unconscious and piled up with pillows and Jungkook's stuffed bunny. After he took a picture with your phone, he went on picking you up to get you to bed, carefully taking Jungkook's arm out of your waist and pushing him aside. Needless to say, Jackson was unaware that the hybrid's protective instincts are strongest when he sleeps. You had your reasons for not telling your boyfriend  about Jungkook 's past, like respecting Jungkook's privacy and feelings, and well, maybe Jackson wouldn't like knowing how you got hurt days ago, and that problem you didn't want to have to deal with. Still, maybe some little thing you should have said.

You woke up in a jump, by a scream, and a loud growl followed by a "no" that sounded more like a bark. For Jungkook, in the first few seconds, all he knew was that someone was trying to get you out of him, and never that he was going to let it happen. Jackson threw himself back against the coffee table, withdrawing his hand so as not to be bitten, feeling his heart in his throat in the greatest fright he has ever had in his life.

"JK?" You seated up.

Jungkook looked from you to Jackson, understanding what he did, his ears flatting down on his head. His fists were clenched, holding the fabric of your shirt as if his life depended on it. The other night he hurt you, Jungook felt guilty, and afraid that you would stop loving him, now in the presence of a man, he was also afraid of the punishment that he was sure would come.

"Sorry..." He muttered. "I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry..." You let a relaxed laugh get out your mouth. The situation wasn't funny to you. Actually, you could see how apprehensive Jungkook was, and deduce why. On the other hand, Jackson was frightened, and not only by the jump scare, you could see he was overthinking... What you needed to do was to relax the tension of the situation, and for that you would make them see that you are relaxed. Again, you are a good actress when you need to.

"No need to apologize, JK. He scared you, didn't he?" You laugh, and then you give Jackson a mocking glare. "And you almost shit yourself..." Jackson looked outraged at you, but when he spoke there was laughter in his voice.

"Listen, young lady. I wasn't...!"

"I heard you screaming." You cut him off. "Why are you here again by the way?" You stretched and tried to fix your shirt, but Jungkook was still strongly attached to it. Jackson looked around, as if he was remembering something.

"I forgot my phone here, just don't remember where."

"I think it must be in the office. I remember you using it there" You simply said and Jackson went up the stairs with a nod.

When there was no sign of him, you finally turned your attention to Jungkook, who was still in his curled position beside you, face hidden in you. He was shaking slightly and it broke your heart. You put a hand on his head, fixing his messy hair.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I did it again." His voice was small.

You sighed, placing a kiss on the high of his head.

"You were suddenly brought up. We all got frightened. Nobody is hurt. We laughed it off. It seems to me that everything is pretty fine." You made him look at you. "If I tell you it is all okay, do you believe in me?"

He nodded. "But Jackson... I showed him my teeth. He may be mad at me, and..." He gulped. "Shhhhh." You took his hands on yours, making him let go of your shirt.

"Jackson is a soft hearted guy, he won't be mad at you for something like this. And if it makes you feel better I can talk to him..."

"No!" He exclaimed, interrupting you. "Don't tell him nothing. You'll have to explain about me and I don't want to..."

"It's ok. If you don't want me to say nothing. I won't." You promised. Jungkook hugged his bunny with one of his arms, lowering his eyes.

"It's just that I don't want anyone to know where I came from, or what I did. I didn't tell you everything, even though I trust you... I trust you only."

You can relate with that, you can understand why he doesn't want to expose himself. It's fear of rejection, and you can do nothing but respect, and also, give all the love you have to give, and hope that at least half of it reaches his heart.

"Come here." You opened your arms to him. "Need me to put you to bed?" He laughed.

"No. Thanks."

You pulled from each other, and you got up from the couch, picking up the pillows and the blanket. Jungkook was weeping tears on his cheeks and looking cute.

"Damn, I'm crying again..." He chuckled, turning the TV off.

"Good night, JK." You fondly said.

"Good night, Y/N. Sleep well."

He followed you with his eyes until you disappeared up the stairs and the light went out. His mind was totally against it, but his gut was telling him to follow you, he didn't know why. But he did. As soon as he heard your footsteps close to your bedroom's door, he ran on tiptoe, making no noise, and stopped at the top of the stairs. He listened. Jackson was in the room with you.

"What do you want to ask?" Your voice reached his ears. "It can wait till tomorrow, babe, don't worry." Jackon responded.

In the dark, Jungkook got close to the door and crouched against the wall - so if any of you decided to leave the room out of nowhere, you wouldn't see him there, only if you turned on the corridor light, which you normally don't  do. "Spill it, Jackson." You opened a jar of fancy eye cream, to try to combat the huge dark circles that were installed on your face.

Jackson leaned against the dresser beside you, with his hands in his sweatpants pockets, and said without looking at you.

"I've been thinking about it for some days, I figured you would tell me at some point but you didn't. And after what just happened I'm even more curious about it. How did you meet Jungkook? Where is he from? And why did you decide to adopt him?" You sighed, knowing that this matter would eventually come up. Outside, Jungkook gulped.

"He's a rescue case. I didn't work directly with the legal process, it was a prosecutor friend of mine who indicted his former owners. When he was left without an owner and nowhere to go I decided to help, and that's it. There is no explanation for why I wanted him, or vice versa. Jungkook is just special to me."

You calmly spoke.

"His former owner was arrested?"

"Yeah. For money laundering and conspiracy." Jungkook felt a shiver down his spine. He knew you were going to lie now, or at least not answer, because it's not just his secret, it's yours too. And for some reason he felt like you had to lie to your boyfriend because of him. But technically this last part isn't a lie, his former owner really got arrested for money laundering and conspiracy, it's just that there were many more accusations against him besides these, like exploitation of hybrids, homicide, human trafficking and prostitution, among others, but that part Jackson doesn't need to know.

Jackson hesitated.

"Does Jungkook have a history of abuse?" Jackson said, and Jungkook couldn't define by his tone what he was thinking, it was too flat.

You, on the other hand, were feeling in court, being questioned by lawyer Jackson Wang. He already had a point of view, he just wanted to make you confirm. But you are smart too.

"Why are you asking this?" You crossed your arms.

"He was aggressive down stairs, in the living room, not even ten minutes ago. I know that hybrids with difficult pasts can be violent." He responded.

"That's not what I asked. Why are you, Jackson, asking that? What does it matter to you?" You were incisive. A moment of silence passed.

"I'm worried, I guess. You are living with him now. Hybrids can be dangerous." Part of you understand, a little bigger part got pissed.

"I've been surrounded by hybrids since I was born. I literally work with them every day, both in my stores, both in my legal area. Because my expertise is in the rights and protection of hybrids in case you forgot, Jackson. I know what I am doing." Each word came firmly out of your mouth. "Besides, Jungkook is my friend, you can't just assume he is dangerous."

"He almost bit me! Growled at me!" He snapped, and it longer felt like a conversation, but an argument.

"Jackson what would happen if you wake me up one hour sooner than I planned to wake up?" You put your hand on your hips. "You would complain." He replied as if your question had nothing to do with the matter.

You made a sign with your hands as if the answer was obvious.

"Exactly. And that's what he did. The only difference is that he can growl, besides talk, to express his discontentment, and we can't. End of story."

Jackson pinched his nose, clear sign that he knows you got a point. But it wasn't done yet.

"I understood that part, and I'm sorry. Even so, I'm worried. Because you know him and trust him, but I don't. How can I know that when you are alone it will not hurt you?"

In the dark, Jungkook bit his lip, feeling terrible, because he already did hurt you.

You were feeling worked up, more than you should. You walked past him, stomping.

"I don't want to talk about it. We know... You know very well, that no one needs a traumatic past to be violent. You see bad people with perfect lives everyday on your job." You fumed, and when he tried to respond you spoked above him. "The past of a free hybrid belongs to the one who abused them and not to them. All the bad things were done by other people, and judging them for these things is prejudiced. And I will not tolerate you being prejudiced, Jackson."

At that point you were crying. At the beginning of the conversation, you were trying to be rational and calculate what to say so as not to miss out on anything you shouldn't, to avoid contradicting yourself, to avoid the conversation. But something from then on was a trigger for you. Jackson was without reaction for a moment. Jungkook had to restrain himself from entering the room to comfort you, all his instincts telling him to do so.

"Y/N..." Jackson tried.

"No. Listen." You took a deep breath. "I understand your worry. My mom probably will say the same thing when she meets him, and she is one of the people who taught me these things I just said... But that's the thing, Jackson: you don't need to know about the traumas and hurts, and terrible things that happened with Jungkook - or anyone else - to know him. You can know him for who he is today. I'm living with him for about a week and I already know he is a incredible smart boy, absolutely good in almost everything he does, and that he is afraid of the microwave, and he loves sweet things, especially if he can mix everything up in a misshapen sugar mass that no one else would eat, and the key of his heart is a little bit of attention because... Because he is content with so little. No matter the crumb of love you give him, he will be happy... And that's why I wanted to give him everything... The whole world..."

You were pouting, and tears were running down your cheeks, and your voice was so small. You were so small right now. Jackson reached you and pulled you to a tight hug. You hold him too, sobbing lightly.

In the corridor Jungkook got on his feet and wiped his own tears. He needed to process everything he heard. All the things you said about hybrids and about him, and the fact that you cried because of him. He didn't know what it was, but a feeling so warm on his chest promised that it would be hard to get to sleep again that night, thinking about these things and you. It was really horrible not to be able to enter the room so that he could hug you, and answer everything you said with his feelings - even if he couldn't explain everything, just because he can't name everything. He silently walked down the corridor to the stairs, heading for his room.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cry. I don't even know why I'm crying... " You whined, weeping your nose with a chuckle. "I'll be all puffy tomorrow morning and the fault is all yours." Jackson laughed, pushing your hair away from your wet face.

"I'm sorry. Really, I didn't intend to be a jerk or anything. But I think I needed this conversation, I always learn a lot from you... And I think you needed this conversation too, you needed to put some things out, otherwise you wouldn't have cried." He charmly smiled. "You must be right. But seriously...!" You slapped his forearm. "I would be less pissed if you had a silly jealous tantrum or something like that. It would be easier to solve, just ignore it."

"Yah! Why would I be jealous of you? I know the day you find I guy more amazing than me you will let me know right away. Broke up with me by massege or something like this." "Shut up." You slapped him again. "You didn't turn off the flower shop's alarm when you arrived, right?"

"No." He shook his head.

You smiled wildly.

"So take off your pants and spoon-sleep with me." _________________________________________________________________________________ Then all of Jungkook's documents arrived in the mail, including an adoption request certificate - which was false, made by some of his contacts in the organization - a definitive guardianship certificate that specifies you as his legal guardian and not as owner - a small advance in the law - and that gives him some freedom that most hybrids don't have, like walking around by himself, and at last but not least, his hybrid id.

With all this in hand you finally got to make Jungkook's first appointment with a psychologist. Together you both researched some names of professionals in the field, including the three that the doctor gave you the other day, and some others indicated by friends of yours. One way or another you would have to leave the city to go to the appointments, since your city is small and you didn't find anyone in the region, so one of the criteria for choosing was distance. Another, of course, was the professional background and branch of psychology, and that part was more with you. On the other hand, Jungkook literally chose the cover of the book. When he didn't like the person's face they were automatically excluded from the list.

"And if I get there and right away I don't like their smell... I'm leaving." He declared. "Of course. You must be comfortable." You agreed. "What do you think about this one? He is young but the curriculum is impressive... And he has a support therapy group with hybrids, which is really cool."

Jungkook took your notebook to put on his own lap to get a closer look. You started your research hours earlier, in your office, but after a long time sitting in chairs that left you both with a sore ass, a break to eat pizza and put on pajamas, you were still trying to choose someone, but now under the covers in your bed with the TV on. The website that was open was a clinic specializing in hybrids, and on the page that Jungkook was looking at had a picture of a young man with a bright smile.

"Dr. Jung Hoseok..."  He mumbled to himself.

"He looks nice right? There's some patient testimonials..." You were about to ask him if he wanted to read it but he was faster.

"I want him."Jungkook looked at you with determined eyes. "I like him. Is the first one we see that is truly smiling."

He was planning to choose a woman, because he thought he would be more comfortable than with a man, but this one looked perfect in a way that no one else has looked until now.

"Ok, then. I'm calling them tomorrow morning." You smiled at him. ___________________________________________________________________________ Much to the disappointment of Jungkook and yours too, Dr. Jung's schedule was packed with lecturers and courses, so he wouldn't be able to start therapy immediately as you both imagined, leaving the first meeting with him for the following month only.

So this is it ... A whole month of a lot of rain, in which you were very busy with your boyfriend and your job, without being able to do therapy, without leaving home most days. Without realizing it, Jungkook was building up a terrible bad mood. At first you didn't even notice, because Jungkook is quiet most of the time, and you were too focused on difficult texts full of legal terms that fry your brain. But one morning, the first in weeks when the sky was blue and you had no work to do... The first morning that you slept till late and woke up with a smile on your puffy face, opened the bedroom curtain as a Disney princess would, and hopped down the stairs in a good perfect mood ... That morning you noticed.

"Gooood morning!" You literally sang, passing by Jungkook, who was eating his cereal, standing by the counter. He didn't respond, and you interpreted as his sleep non talking state. "I'm in the mood for eggs and bacon today... maybe a sandwich too. Do you want it? My god I can eat the whole world today..." "No. I could have made myself a sandwich if I wanted to."

You raised your eyebrows, a little surprised, taking milk, eggs, cheese, onion, tomatoes and mayo from the fridge. A second passed before Jungkook added in a grumpy voice:

"Thank you."

On a frying pan you put some butter to melt and brown the bread, and in another one you broke three eggs leaving room for some slices of bacon. At the delicious sound of those ingredients popping on the fire, you started cutting a tomato, and decided to add lettuce and left over chicken from the night before on your sandwich. The kitchen's air was filled with the pleasant smell.

"Are you sure you don't wan't not even the eggs and bacon?" You asked again, turning said bacon so that the two sides would be equally delicious. As a precaution you browned two more slices of bread.

"You don't have to bother." Jungkook murmured, without taking his eyes off the dull cereal bowl in front of him, but still his nose worked to identify the smells in the air. You put a slice of mozzarella cheese and a cheddar cheese on top of the hot bread slices, and immediately the cheese started to melt beautifully. In the pan that no longer were the bread, you put some onion to caramelize.

"No bother. Today is a perfect day, and it’s been a while since I’ve prepared breakfast for you, or that we ate just the two of us..." You gladly spread the shredded chicken over the cheese, and then the mayonnaise over the chicken...

Behind you, Jungkook sighed, and you could hear his lazy steps towards you. Over your shoulder he placed the empty bowl in the sink. He looked at what you were doing and his mouth watered.

"I want mine with ketchup, too." He declared with a frown.

"Get it from the fridge for me, then." You simply said. He obeyed. With one hand you put the ketchup on his sandwich - which you were already making because you knew he would want it, and if he didn't want it you would eat it yourself - and with the other you put the fire out of the pan with eggs and bacon. "Do you want the eggs and bacon in or out of the sandwich?"

In."

You were inspired, so even the olive on a stick on top of the huge sandwich you put. A beautiful sandwich.

"Sit." You happily pulled a chair for yourself. The first bite was heaven for you, making you moan as you chew slowly with eyes closed. You sighed deeply. "Working from home but not getting a decent breakfast like that every day sucks."

No response. Jungkook was eating  with pleasure - as always - but still didn't seem ready to talk. You looked him up and down. You were proud to see that after a month of living with you, he now had the most rosy cheeks and healthiest skin, and clearly gained considerable weight, thanks to the complete and balanced diet that you guaranteed he had. But he wasn't supposed to be in a bad mood. He was supposed to be happy. When was the last time he brushed his hair?

"What are your plans for today?" As if you want nothing, you asked.

"Have any." He didn't even look at you to speak, instead he got up and opened the fridge. "Want juice?"

Okay, you think he's not upset with you.

"Sure." You waited for him to sit back in front of you. "I have to visit some of my stores today, since I've been so busy and haven't had time to check them out in the past two weeks. But I don't even call it work, because it's going to be fast, and I personally love to see how business is going... Do you want to go with me?"

For the first time this morning, he looked at you with interest. Still, it was not the enthusiasm you were expecting, nor an answer, so you continued.

"We can buy useless things, eat ice cream and go to the park... And this time really enjoy it. The weather forecast guarantees that it will be sunny all day." You expectantly  rested your chin  on the palm of the hand.

Looking at you shining eyes, Jungkook nodded with a small smile. You almost jumped from your chair.

"Remember we tried to play frisbee, and I kind of found out that my little cute arms weren't made for that?"

He shook his head with a mocking smirk.

"If it doesn't go far enough to run after it, it's no fun."

"YEAH... Then it started raining and we came home, and we never talked about it again ... "You put your hands together." It turns out that I saw something on the internet that I thought was incredible and I bought it, and we can try it today."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

"This." You showed him your phone.

A wild smile spread on his face and he reclined in the chair. He looked at you one more time and tossed his chin slightly, a quirk that you know by now that means  he is accepting a challenge.

"I'm washing the dishes, and then I'll get ready." He stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and swallowed the juice in one gulp, rising from the table with determination. ________________________________________________________________ You own a very wide variety of store types, your family practically founded the city generations ago, so what they didn’t open, they invested for someone to open it, it was how you all got rich, and that’s why so many places have your last name on the signboard, and half of them really are yours. The two of you went through your bookstore and music store, the bakery and the karaoke bar... Most of these places Jungkook didn't know yet, and it was interesting to see how you behave with the people that work to you.

It is different from how you act with him, gentle and bright all the time, smooth and carefree, just taking care of him with little things here and there. It is also different from how you act with Taehyung and Jimin, you are relaxed and fun with them, even in the office, when you the lynx are working, you are clearly best friends, and act together as an unbeatable team. It is not as if you stop having all these adjectives or change your personality, but that you put on a layer of boss to act in the presence of your employees. Your usual sweet tone of speech was accompanied by firmness, and even though you were friendly, calling everyone by name, you did not reach out to talk too much to anyone - focusing only on checking if everything was in compliance and solving what needed to be resolved.

Jungkook found it interesting, because it reminded you a lot of how you acted the day you met. You were kind enough for him to trust you, and you were also strong for him to trust you.

And what Taehyung said earlier was true, all of your stores had hybrid employees, at least one. Jungkook was already used to one of the florists in your flower shop being a fox girl - which turns all red and hides each time he appears -, but it was nice to see others like him in other places. Every one of them seemed so happy to see you. Maybe they also smell the truth on you.

"My first part-time job was in the flower shop, I was sixteen. I bought it from my aunt and then it was my first store too. That's why I like living there... It's an important place for me." You told him, turning off the engine of the SUV. You were in the park parking lot, ready to have burgers and fries for lunch - a little treat for yourself after a month without a day off. The plan was a picnic but you forgot the towel or bringing good food, so eating in the car was plan B.

"This is really cool. If you only worked at the store, how did you buy it? With what money?" Jungkook was a lot more talkative now. Leaving the house for a while was what he needed, he must be feeling trapped.

"I found an investor. In other words, I convinced my grandmother to give me the money." You laughed. "It was a little difficult because I was underage yet..."

"Did you buy your first store at sixteen?"

You simply nod. Jungkook was shocked. At sixteen his life was very different from yours, this is nothing new, but it is still strange to think of the chasm between you two...

"At sixteen I was already in clandestine fights for two years." He said, and it was as if one of the million pieces of weight he feels on his chest was gone. It didn't seem much compared to what it was fully, but it was relieving.

On the other hand, you felt your heart break. You didn't know what to say. So many times you told him not to press himself to tell you anything, to talk when he feels ready... so you didn't expect it to be now... that way. Perhaps you were not prepared. But fuck it, you're not the one to be ready. It's him.

Maybe because of the face you made, or how you just stopped eating to look at him in an almost comic way, or because of your eyes filling with tears he added.

"I still don't want to talk about it... I didn't even want to... I don't know why it slipped out. It's just that listening to you talking about your past is so..." He seemed lost in words, not knowing how to organize what to say. "I see you so bright! I wanted to be bright too... I've been thinking about it a lot... About having a job. And... And..."

He looked frustrated. You still didn't know what to say, or if you should say something, so you just held Jungkook's greasy hand from eating fries with your greasy hand from eating fries.

"I want to be the owner of my future." He concluded, remembering what you said the other night.

"A jog is a good first step, JK. I'm proud of you. You have all my support, I can give you a job or help you get one... wherever you want." You intertwined your fingers with his.

He let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He was shaking, and he knew you were feeling it in the hand you were holding, if you couldn't see it too.

"I also have another favor to ask." His voice was shaky, but his eyes didn't leave yours, just like when he asked to be with you.

"Anything." You whispered, mouth dry.

Something inside you told you that this was the purest truth about your relationship with Jungkook. That you would definitely do anything for him. You also felt that it should terrify you, just it didn't.

Jungkook took his old wallet out of his pocket and opened it for you to look inside. The photo of two hybrid boys smiling, hugging each other, made you smile too.

"You are the small one." You pointed.

Jungkook nodded.

"The other one is my hyung. We live together on a breeding farm. I think there was a lab too, but I never went there, I don't remember... When I was robbed and sold for the fights he went too, and a few years later we were separated... Do you think you can find him?"

Jungkook didn't want false hopes. He knows better than anyone what life is like for a fighting hybrid, how it ends. But if he survived that long, then his hyung can too, and if anyone can save him, it is you. He just wanted to hear that you're going to try... Even if you only discover the worst of the possibilities... Even if you don't discover anything. Among all the terrible things in Jungkook's head, this is the one that most takes away his sleep, the one that most makes him feel guilty.

"What is his name, breed, age...? Any information you have about him." You were serious, every gear in your brain working.

"Namjoon. He was some type of wolf... Older than me, I don't remember how much." Jungkook's eyebrows came together and he bit his lip, trying to remember anything else that might help. "He loves to read... He is a good hyung... I don't know...!" "Shhh. It's ok." You took his face in your free hand. "You don't need to freak out now, if you remember something later just tell me. With his name, age and breed I can ask my organization friends for help."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For some reason the smell of the food was making him nauseous... Or it was just his anxiety messing with him. He just didn't want to eat anymore. Suddenly the car was too small and getting smaller for the second, and he couldn't breath. His body started to shake violently, and his lungs were hurting. He let go of your hand and opened the door to get out. You followed him close. Instead of going down your door and having to go around the car, you jumped into the passenger seat and got off right behind Jungkook, who was already bent over with his head between his knees. He was having an anxiety attack. You crouched in front of him and rubbed his back softly.

"Breathe with me, JK, love. Inhale for four seconds... Hold for two seconds... Release for six..." You've been there before, and breathing has always helped you more than most things, not only to stabilize your body, but also to help you focus. "Right... Again."

You breathed with him, still keeping your hand comforting on his back, but not too close to suffocate him. "You don't need to answer out loud, ok? I need you to find five things around us that you can see. Can you do this for me?"

He barely nodded, but you saw he understood. He was breathing like you told him to, opened  his watering eyes and looked around. The trees. The car wheel beside him. The lake shining far away. His shoes. Your shoes.

"Now find four things you can hear." You told him after a while. The birds. Kids laughing somewhere. The radio inside the car. Your calm breathing. "You are doing great, babe. Find three things you can smell." Dirt. Freshly cut grass. You.

"At last... Two things you can touch." You took the opportunity to pet his head. The car. You.

He was calmer, his body collapsed and he ended up sitting on the ground with his face in his hands. You got up, and he didn't see where you went, but you weren't gone for long.

"Here, something to taste." You handed him a bottle of sparkling water. "I don't know if you like it, but it's good for the stomach."

He drank the bottle all at once, and made a face at the end. He doesn't like it.

"Thank you, Y/N. You are always taking care of me. Sorry." He took your hand and intertwined your fingers together.

"Silly, puppy." You smiled at him, and he could swear it is the prettiest thing ever. "You can alway take care of me too."

He wanted to look at you for a while, to be silent for a while. Think only of how sweet and beautiful you are, instead of the bad things. But you got up again, not thinking what he was thinking.

"Can you get up?" You offered help.

He accepted.

"I can do a lot of things besides getting up. I'm ready to run." He smiled wildly.

"Are you sure?" You took his face in both your hands, the color was coming back to his cute cheeks, but you were still worried. He nodded, covering one of your hands with his. You sighed. "Ok then." _______________________________________________________________ You weren't trying so hard, but you got tired just to see how fast Jungkook runs, and after an hour, you can't believe the boy's fitness. Too much stamina, Christ. As he came back to you with the frisbee in hand, at high speed, the wind in his hair made the sweaty bangs fly back. He was stunning. Wild smile and excitement making him look like a child at the same time he looked like every girl's dream boyfriend.

"Throw, another one, Y/N." He sang, already running away. You lifted the cannon frisbee launcher and opened fire. Looking up, Jungkook calculated the route of the flying thing and speeded up to catch it. Since you started playing he hasn't lost one. He only almost ran over a few unsuspecting pedestrians, but nobody got hurt. From meters away, you could hear him jumping up and down before he started running towards you once more. You definitely need to find some physical activity for this child to stay entertained and happy.

"Again!"

______________________________________________________

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[mooglesorts]

man. it's weird, because there's a lot of things about me that are Very Badger Primary, to the point where i would probably pick it with a strong bird model over anything else at this point... except that i hate dehumanization. i saw primaries described recently as 'things you wouldn't be you anymore if you went against,' and more than just about anything else that's it. even when i think people are monsters, i can't see them as not human; i'd be hard put to define exactly what i consider a 'monster,' but it's more about like. good faith than personhood, i suppose?

it's not necessarily a permanent status to be one--people can change--but my deeply held instinct is that once you have done something monstrous you will always be a person who has been a monster by your own choices, and that it's your duty to learn how to accept that while still living your life, and act accordingly from thereon out. you have to reconcile that you are a person with the fact that some doors are closed to you now, and it's up to you to decide what you do from there.

just. like. even when i hate someone and as far as i'm concerned they can go fuck themself, even in the multiple Heavily Badger social environments i've been in over the course of my life--church, progressive circles, the way the structure of the internet kind of just affects you in general--even on occasions where i've gotten swept away and given in to the pressure to dehumanize (or perform it) for a minute, there's always, always been a voice in the back of my head saying this is a person. this is a person. this is a person. this isn't right.

unintentional dehumanization sets off my '...should we really be doing this? we are getting into not good territory here, it's time to pull up and start questioning' alarms. explicit, intentional, purposeful dehumanization sets off the whole ass tornado sirens. if people on my side are doing it it's enough to throw me into a system-destabilizing crisis, because NO NO NO I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE, I WANT NO PART OF THESE PEOPLE'S MORAL SYSTEM, I FEEL UNCLEAN. it's a good way to make sure i will never, ever, ever trust someone again.

things that are Really Really Badger, off the top of my head (after the cut because Long and trauma talk):

[[MORE]]

---

-i've always loved playing adoptable games, pet simulators, etc? any game with randomly generated characters that are Yours Now and a Community, in a deeply badgery way. including games where they can die (the satisfying part is making sure they don't). except that, no matter how much fun the gameplay is, if it gets to the point where they start feeling disposable, and the only way to really keep playing is to stop humanizing them, i lose interest. it's super fucking depressing. it feels like part of me dying inside a little. i don't like it at all.

-i've always been drawn to fandoms and roleplaying communities. i was fiercely loyal to, and proud of, my first rp community on dragoncave as a 13-year-old. when my abusive mom found out about it and completely isolated me for half a year, the promise of being able to make it back to them--just sneakier this time--kept me going; when i finally got back and the group had drifted apart in my absence, it.... was absolutely devastating. i never really recovered from it. even then, i spent years trying to get the group back together every now and then, until i finally gave up.

-i am always keenly, painfully aware of the life cycle of a community. every time i hear the sentiment 'you guys are all great and i love this group' my stomach drops, because i know it's only a matter of time before things go sour or the group dissolves. rp groups, skype chats/discord servers, fandoms, you name it, i am always bracing myself or staying away entirely to avoid the inevitable and it hurts. and it hurts to see people taking part in a community i don't dare be part of, which makes lurking in fandoms... really rough. frankly, it takes me a lot of courage every time i express my appreciation for the shc community because i've been burned so many times.

-on that note: i went through some really traumatic stuff at the end of 2020 that completely turned my life upside down, and i was doing bad until i stumbled across the shc community. the moment i started engaging, it was a huge boost to my mental health, and my ability to cope with circumstances under which i was about to break down spectacularly. and it has been ever since! contributing to The Group Project and seeing other folks being friendly with each other gives me the happy feelings.

-i used to go out of my way to build and run spaces, mainly fandom and rp spaces, and took a lot of pride in engineering them so that they Functioned Well. unfortunately it wore me the hell down over the years for Burnt Badger Reasons, and now i'm too jaded, bitter, and exhausted to give a shit about being a mod/community leader anymore because of it lmao

-among those burnt badger things i relate HARD to the Red Ledger narrative. hoo boy.

-i wish i could find it again, but there was an mlp comic i saw once which went into luna's observations of what each element of harmony Means. with the element of friendship, she says that twilight has a massive amount of love to give; right now it's all focused on celestia, but when she learns to expand it outward she'll have grown into her full potential as a person, and she'll change the world. that struck a chord with how i used to feel, hard, and it's really stuck with me ever since. (hello, unhealthy snake model)

-emphasis on 'used to feel,' lmao

-got super invested in a really toxic '''mental health''' community at a low point in my life; exploded HARD trying to help everyone i could; got into vicious, protracted fights with the shitty mods for years about the harmful way they ran their community until i finally managed to go 'fuck this it's not getting better' and leave.

-had to numb myself emotionally to the people around me for a long time once i really started learning about mental health and trauma stuff, because now i was seeing signs of their pain and baggage everywhere i looked, and i couldn't handle not being able to help.

-the imagery with which i think about my bird primary is overwhelmingly negative. whether it's my actual primary or a model, i uh. i feel like a healthy relationship to one's primary doesn't involve associating it with gore.

-i saw a conversation recently about how birds think of morality in terms of 'if you can, you should,' and how that's scary for badgers because their definition of 'can' involves destroying yourself for the sake of that 'should,' and... yeah, that's a mood. that's a BIG mood. thinking about bird primary stuff is hard--and i had to pick up my lion model to deal with it--because it's so easy for me to spiral into a self-shredding spiral of other people are counting on you to do the right thing, how dare you pull back for your own health and sanity. how dare you turn your back for even a minute. how dare you rest. the work is never done.

which is... a very exploded badger approach to exploded bird morality. whoops.

-fix-it and time travel fiction in which Everything Went Right This Time and It's Going to Be Okay are one of my very favorite self-indulgent fantasies. i will enjoy putting characters through the wringer in all kinds of creatively horrific ways which may or may not end on a downer note, certainly, i love that shit, but i will also 90% of the time have a backup version of the arc or dynamic that's softer and lighter and Actually Healthy This Time. it's the dichotomy there that really gets me tbh, a story where Everything Ends Happily by default will mmmaybe pull me in? but stories where there's the constant shadow of this could end horribly, it's supposed to end horribly, and we got a happy fucking ending anyway are just... that shit will make me cry, man.

it's also why i kind of really hate stable time loop stories where it initially looks like this is going to be The Good Timeline this time around, but OOPSIE everything went to shit anyway! we're right back where we started, just like it was meant to be all along! it's a tired cliche by this point and an unsatisfying one for me, and it makes me roll my eyes every time.

-this is relevant to the bird vs. badger because like... my gut instinct is to prioritize people over systems. when shit hits the fan, when someone's fallen into the machinery and is about to get hurt, i don't feel right about it if i just let it happen. i'll break the machinery if i have to to keep it away from them; i won't feel great about that, and it might cause problems, but fuck it, we'll figure it out later. throwing people into the gears of a system when i'm convinced it's the only option makes me feel Awful.

-related to the above, another trope that really speaks to me in fiction is when a character defies the rules of reality through sheer force of will. no, this is not happening, i don't give a shit what the limits are supposed to be. i refuse to let this be the way things are. (there's that lion model.)

-i've just kind of... always wanted to be an Everyone Badger. it makes me sad how much of that i've lost over the years as i've gotten more cynical, but it's what i wish i could be.

---

doubtless i'll think of more the moment i hit send, and there are just as many things about me that are Super Bird Primary, but like... mamma mia that's some spicy badger. the main thing stopping me is the Can't and Refuse to Dehumanize bit. i also... hm. i think i can function okay without a community? they just help a lot, and it sucks when i'm confronted with one i don't have a (stable) place in. any thoughts? is it possible for a bird system's foundation to run so deep that eventually it overrides the bird?

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Takuto Maruki/Reader commission for the very lovely, very patient @furudolove for Persona 5 Royal. I’ve never played a Persona game and I don’t plan to, but I can hope I got the majority of Maruki’s character, in this. He’d so idyllic, and so delusional... He’d make a wonderful Yandere, if I knew a little more about the series. 

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Isolation. 

You could feel every detail of the cot underneath you.

It would’ve been impossible not to. Prominent, pointed springs poked through the thin mattress and prodded at your back, biting into your arms, your legs, any patch of open skin they could find and force themselves into without objection. You took it in, for a moment, your body too sore and your mind too drained to do anything but lay back and let the chilled air wash over you, too cold to be natural, too sterile. When you opened your eyes, you did so reluctantly, but there was nothing to ease your anxiety. Above you was a plain, tiled ceiling, glowing with an artificial light you couldn’t quite name the source of, not unlike the lamp you might place above the cage of a reptile, and the rest of the room seemed to fall into place as your eyes found it, a desk and a pair of chairs coming into existence as you struggled to comprehend the world you’d fallen into. They were white and unmarked, your bed bolted to a floor speckled with grey dots. Like the presidential suite of a freshly renovated asylum.

You weren’t certain where you were, but you were sure you’d never been here before.

And you knew you didn’t want to be any longer than you had to.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, your back aching under the strain, protesting any slight shift, as if you’d fallen too far and landed too suddenly. A similar pain was quick to make itself known in the back of your head, and thoughtlessly, you brought up a hand to try and soothe the knots of pressure tying themselves in the back of your skull. You hissed as your fingertips made contact with the worst spot, the area tender, bruised, but you didn’t have much time to investigate.

As soon as you’d begun to examine the area in earnest, there was a hand around your wrist, pulling your arm away gently and hesitating to release it when you failed to resist. Your attention turned to the man now standing above you, and suddenly, you were startlingly aware of just how muddled your mind had become, how difficult it was to formulate any thought beyond general observations about your current predicament. His features, although vaguely familiar, were blurry, unfocused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to try to put a name to his face. You didn’t have to, though, not when his voice was more than enough to identify him.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Your counselor, Takuto Maruki, explained. “I’d hate to see you hurt yourself this early on.”

You opened your mouth, but he was quick to hush you, letting your hand fall into your lap and repositioning himself, smiling as he lowered himself to your height. It was all you could do to stare in his direction, a million questions playing on your tongue, the least indescribable of which had to do with his attire, suddenly too formal, and the grin he was barely trying to conceal, wide and welcoming, only broadening at the slightest hints of your acknowledgment. “I know this seems strange,” He began, his speech rehearsed, as if he’d been preparing it while you were unconscious. “But there’s no reason to be afraid, anymore. You’re in a better place, now, a better reality, one where you can be what you’ve been trying so hard to be, with my help.”

“I don’t understand,” You whispered, drawing your knees to your chest, your voice smaller than you’d like it to be. The creak of the ancient bedframe threatened to drown it out. “I can’t… You want me to change?”

“I want you to be what you’ve always wanted to be.” This time, when he took your hand, he held it close to his chest, a wide, self-satisfied smile spreading across Maruki’s lips. As if he couldn’t be more proud, and expected you to be just as exultant. “You’re in so much pain as you are, (Y/n). I want to take that away. I’ll satisfy your desires, make you the person you want to be. Assertive, brave, confident.” He paused, squeezing your hand a little too tightly for the gesture to go unnoticed. “We’ll rule this place together. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted, and I’ll have you by my side. We’ll be happy.”

You blinked, once, twice, your gaze flickering from your knees, to the ground, to Maruki’s face, still alight with anticipation as he waited for your answer. You could only think to say the obvious.

“I’m sorry, but… I’d rather not.”

~

Maruki visited twice a day.

Or, it felt like twice a day, at least. It was difficult to tell, when the sky outside your windows was always dark and the lights were always on, remaining bright and untouched regardless of how many times you threw your few, meager possessions towards the unfaltering ceiling. You were given books to occupy yourself with, games and consoles to play them on, but the hours were long and he seemed to be the only company you were allowed. You were tempted to complain, but it was difficult to find your voice, when he was around. When anyone was around, really, but you tried not to think about that. Not when there were so many other things to keep your concern yourself with.

For example, the location of your prison, relative to the world you should be a part of. And, preferably, how you got back to the latter of the two.

When you asked, you didn’t dare think. You swallowed your nerves and spit out the words, keeping your eyes narrowed on the pad of lined paper in front of you. Maruki had handed it over the moment you expressed an interest in the object, but you had yet to decipher its contents. To you, it just seemed like a list of names, only a handful of which you recognized. “Where am I?”

“It’s complicated,” He answered, automatically. As if he’d expected you to ask this question sooner. “It’s… It’s my perfect reality. One where everyone can be exactly what they want to be, and have everything they long for. There’s more of it than-” He motioned vaguely around the room, clearly unimpressed with its contents. You couldn’t say you blamed him. “-this, but I didn’t want to smother you. I know how overwhelmed you can get, sometimes.”

“I’m working on that,” You mumbled, immediately longing to take it back. If anyone knew what you were working on, it was Maruki, the man who you considered to be one of your closest confidants less than a week ago. He was a kind man, and you’d trusted him… You still trusted him, honestly. It was impossible to stop, once you’d already allowed yourself to open up. “And there’s no way out of… ‘your reality’, is there? Without your help, I mean.”

Maruki took offense to that. He’d been seated at your desk, for the duration of this visit, maintaining a professional distance, but he stood when you brought up the topic of leaving. You heard a sigh as soft, measured footsteps made their way to your side. He hadn’t tried to close the distance between you two since you first woke up. Rather, he slid onto the end of your bed, his back coming to rest against the barred footboard, his legs left to intermingle with yours in the space between. It felt intimate, and as if by instinct, you were against it. “I don’t want you to feel like your a prisoner--”

“I am a prisoner,” You interrupted. “I can’t leave, so I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re a guest.” He sounded disappointed, but firm, his eyes flickering over your face and attempting to meet yours. You looked away, once again attempting to focus on his many, nonsensical lists. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to make you happy. I can make people different, here, and I can make you different.” He finished with a bright, broad smile, only realizing his mistake a moment after your hurt became palpable. “Wait, that’s not what I - You won’t be different. You’ll be what you’re meant to be.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, beaming forward like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. “Nothing about you will change. If anything, you’ll be more you than you are now. Everyone here is. I can show you around, if you let me help you.”

“If I let you control me.” He opened his mouth, ready to provide another repetitive rebuttal, but you didn’t let him, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought to continue. “That’s what it is, right? You know I won’t fight, not once you’ve got me trapped in your little, perfect daydream. The only thing I can’t think of is why you don’t just-” You waved a hand in some vague, arbitrary gesture, attempting to vent your frustration physically. The effects were minimal, at best. “-do it, already. If this was really your reality, you wouldn’t keep asking for my consent.”

“It has to be your choice.” The declaration wasn’t triumphant, or altruistic, or anything less than pained. As if it hurt him to admit it. “I know you need to make progress. You want this to be your accomplishment, and I’m not going to take that away from you. I want you to be proud, (Y/n), I do, but I can help. This can be our achievement. I can make it so--”

“So I forget I hate myself?” Before you knew it, you were on your feet, your fists clenched at your sides and your vision red. You were angry. There wasn’t a point in denying it, why would you? He was the only person you’d spoken too in weeks, and it wasn’t like there was much to discuss. You had no one to protect your reputation from, and you refused to strive to prove yourself to Maruki. He didn’t deserve that. Regardless of how badly he wanted to try to act like he did, he didn’t. You were sure of that.

You had to be sure of that.

“I don’t want to be some brainwashed doll you can tow around as a shining example of how wonderful your fucked-up therapy is. I’m not who you want me to be, I’m not who I want me to be, I’m me. I have to be the one to deal with that, even if I have to do it on my own. There’s no quick-fix, or magic solution, or ‘cognitive wrap’, whatever you’ve been calling it. That’s not what I need.” You gasped, if only to stop yourself from losing your temper. You’d started to pace without realizing it, and when you came to a stop, you were facing one of the dull, white walls. It was fitting, you guessed. You didn’t want to see his response, not right away. “Remember the first time we met? When I went to you for advice?

His reply was delayed. It came with a soft exhale, ragged, but tamer than yours. Nostalgic, even. “You shook like a leaf. How could I forget?”

“I was terrified,” You admitted, letting a fraction of the tension in your body dissolve. “I was in a bad place, and it took me days to scrape up the courage to tell someone about it. If you’d made your offer then…” You let out a sad, breathy laugh, the sound as humorless as it was dry. “You said I had to believe I could make progress before I relied on anyone else. That’s what I’m doing. You can’t guilt me for following your advice.”

There was a beat of silence, a moment where you genuinely could’ve thought he’d begun to understand. Then, Maruki opened his mouth, and you were snapped out of that fantasy as abruptly as you’d been thrown into it. “I loved you back then, too. As much as I do now. If I could’ve done anything to end your suffering, I would’ve.”

You didn’t hesitate, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I think you should leave.”

“(Y/n), I--”

“Please, Takuto,” You interrupted, your nails beginning to dig into your palms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

There was a huff. A sigh. But, you didn’t look over your shoulder until the metal-plated door had swung shut, a lock clicking into place from the other side, leaving you more alone than you had been before he made his daily visit.

For whatever reason, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be getting a second, that day.

~

Isolation was a tenuous thing.

You couldn’t keep track of time. Not here, not in this room, not when the sky never changed color and you never really felt hungry or thirsty or much of anything at all, if it didn’t have to do with Maruki and his ‘perfect world’. But, after your first real argument, Maruki had stayed away long enough to make his absence known, rather than just a particularly long lapse between tense encounters. It might’ve been a day, a week, a month, but you didn’t care about the specifics.

It was long enough to make you miss him. You supposed that was all that mattered.

There was a unique intimacy in the hand he rested on the center of your back, the steady fingers of a practiced professional rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the space just below your shoulder-blade. He hadn’t gotten this close before. He could’ve, you wouldn’t have had the courage to stop him, but after so much time spent alone with your own thoughts, this was the first time you truly embraced his presence by your side, his knee almost touching yours. Anything to make it feel like you weren’t trapped inside your own head.

He allowed you to sit in silence for a moment or two, your face buried in your palms and your legs crossed, keeping you perched on the edge of the bed, allowing you to wallow in your own self-pity and a fraction of his, too. Maruki didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, the expression nothing short of nurturing, pushing you a little close to the cliffside between you and the flawless, guilt-ridden submission he so very much to shove you towards. The way he spoke wasn’t any better, just as kind. As sickeningly tender as the rest of his facade. “I pushed you too far,” He admitted, a half-hearted laugh lacing the edges of his confession. “Too much ground to cover, never enough time. I should’ve let you think.”

You sighed, the sound desolate, miserable. A poor imitation of something that should’ve brought relief. “It’s not… It’s not just that. I’d never really adjust to…” You trailed off, swinging your legs over the cot’s side, kicking idly at the well-scoffed tiles. “...Whatever this is. Maybe you should work on that. Make a Visitor’s Center for your next abductee.”

“I’ll make you the host,” He added, prodding your side with an elbow. “My offer still stands, if you’ve changed your mind.”

You leaned against him. You leaned against him, and you rested your head on his shoulder and you let out another labored, languid sigh, somehow more sorrowful than your last. “I think you know what I’m going to say, Takuto.”

His collected grin pressed against the top of your head as he pushed a kiss into your scalp, a gentle hand coming up to draw you into a one-sided hug. You allowed it, indulged it, even, smiling up at him as he pulled away. Maruki took his time standing, stretching idly and holding out a single hand, letting something long and golden appear in his palm, a staff that tapered off into a sharpened point on one end, and sprouted into a shining, petaled star on the other. You were shocked for a moment, both by the gaudiness of the object and how wrong it seemed in Maruki’s hand, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the new addition. Not when he was so quick to draw your attention away.

“I think I’m too nice to you,” He started, still facing the furthest wall. “That’s the common factor. I get ahead of myself, and then I try to make it up to you with time and understanding and all the things I assume you’ll want. That just makes you hostile, though. I’ll try something different, next time. Something less… personal. On my end, at least.”

There were a dozen things you could’ve said. Accusations, questions, everything in between and a handful of options you hadn’t thought of, yet. But, as soon as you opened your mouth, your eyes were closing, your body collapsing and a supreme sense of exhaustion washing over you, traveling hand in hand with dizziness and every other sensation that could’ve urged you to sleep. Every other tortuous thing Maruki could’ve forced onto your mind to bend you to his whim.

You felt yourself fall to the floor just as your vision went black.

~

You woke up on a cot that squeaked when you moved.

It was an awful noise, rusted out and worn down, and it only got worse as you forced your body to move, pushing yourself into a more respectable position with arms that didn’t want to cooperate. They ached, argued, screamed, and you had a feeling they would creak too, if they could. The room around you was blurry, blurry and smudged and alien, and you realized rather numbly that you didn’t know where you were.

You realized you didn’t know where you were, and alarmingly, you realized you didn’t care.

You didn’t have to. There was already a familiar face at your side, one hand clamped around your bicep and the other resting on your shoulder, holding you up when you failed to do so yourself. It was your counselor, Takuto Maruki, smiling as brightly as ever.

“I have an offer for you,” He said, once you’d regained your balance. “One I have a feeling you’ll like.”

Without thinking, you found yourself nodding along.

[fairycosmos]

chloe what do you do when you feel really suicidal? but like not like before- but NOW that you are grieving such a painful loss? dont need to answer but i read your a. to the anon that felt trapped and like they couldnt leave now bc their sibling died too and like you and that anon i feel the same. im so so suicidal chloe. i cry every day and night and i feel despertate but my parents just lost their child so. how do you cope... as much as its possible. what do we do? fuck.

dude i am so sorry you're in the same position as me and you are going to hate me for saying it but there is no satisfactory answer 😔 it's a cruel joke. we're in the worst pain we've ever been in, and our instinct is to want to make that stop. but we can't because now we're obligated to stay alive, where all the hurt is, because we're one of the only ones left. and we dont want to cause more of this feeling by ending it all. it's like a contract you didn't agree to and are now trapped in for the foreseeable. grief is the absolute heaviest thing a person can carry, it's a fucking nightmare. it doesn't make any sense, it doesn't have a cure and it's disorienting as fuck. it's ok to be exhausted by it. reality has been irreparably  worsened and it's an absolute tragedy,  it's completely unfair. personally i'm more suicidal than i've ever been, but like you, i know i'm not going to do anything.  and in moments of great pain, where i want to act on those thoughts, i find myself coming back to that fact. i watch the idea of suicide run its course through my head and then i acknowledge the reality of things, that i can't leave. that it doesn't matter how sad i am and how tired i am, because i'm still here, and processing these emotions is a part of that. the urge to kill myself is there, but the actual act of suicide has never been less of an option than it is right now. so i can feel whatever i need to feel, but there's no point leaning into it or daydreaming about it. because it's not going to happen. sometimes i'm screaming and crying to myself in absolute agony while this is all going on, and sometimes i'm just sitting staring at my phone, numb. the desperation is very real, and i understand that. but it is not as urgent as it feels in the moment. no matter how many times i think i'm at my limit, i know that there's going to be tomorrow. and at the moment that sounds like a really bad thing. but i know that by waking up my parents aren't getting a call saying i'm dead, which for now is kind of the whole point. i am living to minimize their trauma, i am living for them, and an optimist would have hope that that could keep me alive long enough until i get to the point where i can eventually live for myself again. i could definitely see that for your future, even if you can't. the thing is you don't have to know what to do and you dont have to look for ways to fill the void that has been left behind by your sibling. you just have to learn to exist alongside it, and i do mean just exist. as awful as it is. waking up, putting one foot in front of the other, crying and crying and crying. that is good enough. i know it doesn't feel like much of a life, but. it's the short term answer, or so it seems to me. another thing i remind myself of is how it all comes in waves. waves are the nature of both grief, and strong suicidal urges. maybe they're always running in the background, but the moments of pure despair where you feel like you're bursting at the seams, they're so strong and harsh that they flare out faster than you realize. and they feel unbearable, and i know those moments are very frequent when you're in our position, but it's good to remember that the intensity of their nature makes them temporary.  especially if the grief is fresh, every little thing triggers an avalanche of hopelessness.  but some part of me believes these experiences will either a. become less persistent with time or b. become a part of us we learn how to navigate.  at the moment, the simple act of being completely broken by these episodes means you're surviving them. i think it's not a matter of knowing how to cope, but knowing that if you're here to ask these questions - what do i do, how do i go on, etc - then that is proof you have been coping. and it probably doesn't feel like you have been. i think there's a common misconception that coping is thriving, letting go, having positive memories. and sure that's a part of it. but there is a lot of darkness and absolute horror to work through before that. additionally,  there is no rule book on how exactly to work through it. theres just time, experience, learning what works for you and hanging on. i'm trying to hold my own hand through it, i'm trying to look at the present moment i'm in and just think about what i need at that very second.  not what i'm going to do tomorrow, not what i should've done yesterday, but what i have to do right now to make it through.  a lot of the time the answer is nothing, and i just sit and stare or cry, because like i said, ultimately nothing can fix it. theres no epiphany that can change what happened. 

as far as practical things you can to do combat suicidal thoughts goes, i have a few suggestions that i really hope you consider as viable choices: talk to your doctor/therapist - idk where you live or what your financial situation is like, but if it's at all an option i would really urge you to seek professional help. at least let your GP know what you're dealing with so maybe they can refer you to a therapist, or give you some mental health resources. grief counselling is also a step in the right direction. having someone to talk to and implementing positive coping mechanisms into your day to day life, even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, can work wonders. understanding your own suicidal thoughts, why you react the way you do and what you can do about it, can really come in handy when you're breaking down. it's ok to reach out. it's ok to visit different counsellors until you find one that fits you. it's ok to treat your emotional turmoil as seriously as you'd treat any physical disease. there is always support and treatment options available in some form, and it is always worth looking into.

call a (grief or suicide) hotline - i've had the hotline number open in my browser for days. if you are in a moment of crisis, it can absolutely help to have someone talk you through your emotions, listen to your pain, and then give you some gentle recommendations as to what you should do next or where to go from here. you don't have to tell them your name, you don't have to say anything you don't want to say. you're in control of the call and they care about keeping you going. you're not alone. theres also online grief support groups - i'm in a sibling loss group on fb.  it's absolutely crazy how many people are in this position. 

talk to your parents/family/friends - i know saying 'this is a tough one' is a giant understatement.  idk if it's the same for you, but i've been isolating to cope and i don't want to tell anyone what i'm thinking because they're already having such a hard time grieving my sister. but if there's anyone you trust, i just want you to know it's alright to lean on them. it's up to you how much you open up, but the urge to keep to yourself leads nowhere. those around you can relate (to an extent) with your grief, and sharing it, talking about memories and crying together - it's fucking awful, god it's the worst thing ever, but it's necessary. and i don't want to say it helps, but a shared burden is always better than trying to shoulder it alone. you deserve to be listened to and supported. and if you think you're being an inconvenience to your loved ones, that's your inner self hatred talking. they would likely rather be there for you when you need it, than have you harm yourself because you kept it all pent up. it's a lot easier said than done, but it's important to keep in mind that it's an option.

try to create a safe space - try to remove things from your living space you could use to harm yourself with, and make the environment as comforting as possible. refer back to safe coping mechanisms/ distractions that have worked in the past - this can be as simple as going for a walk, watching stupid shit on your phone, meditation, having a crying session, writing to your sibling or just about how you feel in general. these are not suggestions that will solve anything or cure mental illness by any stretch of the imagination.  they just get you out of your head. that can really make a difference. 

create a crisis plan and learn what triggers you - this is a bit of a process but that's alright. being able to identify what sets you off, and being able to recognize your own toxic thinking patterns/behaviours, is the first step towards combatting them. another idea is, if you do end up talking to a loved one or a mental health professional, come up with a plan with them regarding what they should do when you're suicidal and your judgement is impaired. you can even start by just making one for yourself, like writing down a few suggestions as to what you should do when you're in a crisis, what your other options besides suicide are. 

i think that's all i've got right now. i'm sorry this got so long, especially when i know nothing truly helps. i just know what it's like having all this useless life in front of you that you're going to have to fight through without the one person who always should've been there. i keep thinking about what she'd say to me if she could see me, and i know she'd be livid if i threw my life away, but. that doesn't change the fact that she didn't get to live hers, and that i miss her so so much it aches. i keep coming back to the idea that our relationship will continue to grow beyond  death. i can still talk to her, reminisce  with her, understand her, love her. so much of this reality was shaped by her. it's not the same as when she was here, but it's not total absence  either.  anyway, i'm so so sorry for your loss and i hope you can just focus on taking care of yourself, love. because your life still has so much worth and you deserve to see your own future even if you cant stand the thought. moments of happiness and peace are still 100% possible. it's just never going to feel like it did before. and it's ok if you spend the rest of your life struggling to come to terms with that fact, because at least you got to live the rest of your life. i'm sending so much love to you and i'll be here if you need a friend. one day at a time.

*no pressure to read all this you can just refer back to it whenever you feel the need

[meganmonroes]

Happy World Mental Health Day to everyone who suffers the invisible illnesses.

I’m by no means a professional, but I have suffered with various mental illnesses for well over a decade, more than half of my life actually - wow, just taking a moment for that to sink in.

I’m currently not having any therapy, I was on another waiting list, but with everything going on in the world I’m not sure if that’s happening anymore. However, I’ve had various treatments since I was 17 years old, so I don’t mind waiting if someone else has yet to have any.

I’m INCREDIBLY lucky to have a support system at home, my mum is my absolute rock and I would be truly lost without her. Plus, with having so much therapy over the past almost decade - again, wow, the irony is that I know the skills and various coping mechanisms.

However the incredibly sad thing is it’s SO hard to practice those various treatments when you basically feel at war with your own mind. I am aware that probably sounds very dramatic, but if you’ve struggled with your brain, you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from.

I’ve came so far since 2011, I’ve got a job now, I had a long term boyfriend (years ago - but still!) and have since dated a few guys, a few with gaslighting tendacies but, we live and learn.

However, I still feel so far behind where I, “should” be, which is ridiculous as every single person is an individual and nobody is the same. Unfortunately, I am my worst critic and definitely need to start being a LOT kinder to myself, I’ve been saying that for years and it never truly seems to change.

Basically I’m just rambling, but in all honesty, as I am an open book, I think it’s important to state that I have been struggling.

I’m that person that can make friends really easily and gets on with the majority of people, however I only really have one best friend that I see in, “real life.”

I’m having to currently self isolate at home as my brother tested positive for covid - he’s fine, but obviously we all have to stay at home for two weeks. Initially that sounds great, when you’re in introverted extrovert like myself, however mentally, it’s not exactly the best.

Loneliness plagues me quite a lot, which definitely doesn’t help my really shitty self esteem. My constant over analysing is out of control currently, my brain just doesn’t want to switch off. I’m just really tired, mentally and physically, it really is a vicious cycle and the irony is so many, just wouldn’t know.

Luckily I’m very open and honest about what I go through, I feel it’s very important as I know so many suffer in silence. Most people look at me and don’t see a sad person as I’m very bubbly and try and keep positive, but in reality sometimes I really feel like I’m falling apart. I always make sure I try to bob along and what not, I’m just feeling the need to let it all out.

Anytime nice things are meant to be happening, my brain goes into full force and tries to ruin everything. It’s so intricate and ridiculously analytical and I’m very aware how stupid it all is. I know my coping mechanisms stem from the fight or flight instinct and a form of comfort, if only my mind could realise I don’t need to live in constant fear of what ifs.

Ultimately, I’d much rather feel too much than feel nothing at all and as I like to say, kindness is free! *and breathe*

[sapphirewolf1122]

True Nature (part 2, final)

Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 4,788

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the likes and comments! I haven’t received reactions like that for one of my fics in a long time, so please know it was greatly appreciated. It may have even help me with my writing rut that I’ve been in. I hope you enjoy part two!

Bakugo was really fucking confused. 

What the hell had gotten into you? At first, when you had started hitting him, he thought you had been worried and were angry at him for not contacting you. But then you had pushed him away and screamed at him…because he was fucking sick?

But something about the way you had screamed at him didn’t seem like anger. It looked like you had become incredibly sad. If you know what’s good for you. What did that even mean? Was it a threat or a genuine warning?

For the next two days, Bakugo stayed away like you had asked. He was still on leave due to his injuries from the raid. But he wanted so bad to get back out there. A couple of the fucking bastards had gotten away and it was believed they’d taken something with them. Something that could really hurt a lot of people.

At one point, he called Kirishima, to see if he had any advice about what to do with you.

“Yo. Bakubro, to what do I owe the pleasure?” came his best friend’s voice.

“Who the fuck even talks like that, Shitty Hair?”

“Yours truly. How’re you doing, by the way? Word is you had to go to the hospital after that raid.” Bakugo couldn’t help feeling a little touched at the sound of Kirishima’s concern; not that he would ever tell him that. 

“I’m fucking fine; I just strained my arms a bit too much during the Goddamn fight. They made a way bigger deal out of it than it was.”

“Knowing you, you probably went well beyond your limit.”

“Whatever. I didn’t call you to talk about my fucking well-being. I called you cause I need…advice…”

“Whaaaat? The great Bakugo Katsuki needs advice? About what, might I ask?”

“Shut the fuck up, Shark Week. It’s…about a girl.” Bakugo went on to explain what had happened. When he finished, Kirishima was silent for several moments. 

Finally, he said, “To be honest, bro, that sounds very strange. For once, it doesn’t sound like you did anything specific to provoke the screaming.” Bakugo went to protest but Kirishima spoke over him. “From what I can tell, seeing you hurt must have triggered some sort of trauma within her. Maybe she thought she couldn’t handle it again so she pushed you away.”

Bakugo hadn’t even thought of that; he felt like a fucking idiot. Kirishima had always been better about other people’s emotions though. “So what the fuck should I do?”

“You said it’s been a few days, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe she’s calmed down and you can go ask her about what happened. But don’t be too rough about it; make sure you’re gentle about it. I know that can be difficult.”

“I CAN BE FUCKING GENTLE IF I FUCKING WANT TO BE, SHITTY HAIR!”

Kirishima just laughed. “Good luck, bro. Let me know how it goes.”

With that, the red-head hung up, leaving Bakugo still unsure about what he should do. For several minutes, he sat and thought, trying to figure out the best way. Finally, with a growl of frustration, he decided to just go fucking do it. He got up and practically ran out of his apartment.

When he got to your store, he walked in and looked around for you. Catching the eye of one of your employees, they just shook their head and pointed up. With a nod, he walked back outside and climbed the steps to your front door. 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. After several moments of silence, he knocked again, louder this time. By the third time, he was practically pounding on the fucking door. He kept at this until it finally flew open and revealed you, standing in your pajamas and glaring at him. You also seemed to be holding a blanket in your hand.

“I fucking told you to stay away, Bakugo,” you said angrily. Your voice sounded hoarse, as though it hadn’t been used much in the past couple of days. 

“And I will. Once you fucking tell me what’s going on,” Bakugo shot back. He was trying to keep his voice even but the sight of you had really thrown him off. His heart was pounding.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You went to shut the door but he caught it. 

“Yes, you fucking do! Because I don’t know what I fucking did wrong and it’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days! Is it about how I didn’t call after I got hurt? Did I upset you?”

That seemed to catch you off guard. “I…no….well, yes, I was mad, but that’s not—”

“Then what, ___? What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

You shook your head vehemently; he saw that your eyes were starting to fill with tears. “No, I can’t. Trust me, it’s better like this.”

“It’s better that I never see you again? Like fuck it is.”

“Bakugo, please, you’re making this harder than it already is.”

“Why the hell does it have to be hard?” He had begun moving closer to you.

“Because it just is…it’s just how my life is and it’s better if—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that again. Just tell me why, and I will go.”

“No, just leave it!”

“I won’t until you tell me wh—”

“BECAUSE I HURT EVERYONE I LOVE! OKAY? THAT’S WHY!”

Bakugo stared at you, speechless for several moments. Did you just say that you loved him? He watched as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over. “What do you mean? How could you possibly—”

“It’s my quirk.”

He blinked. “You have a quirk?” The blonde had always just assumed that you were quirkless. 

You laughed bitterly at that. “Yeah, I do. Though it should be called a curse, because that’s all it’s done: curse me.”

“What…?”

“…is my quirk? Not sure there is a name for it but put simply, the people I love are affected whenever I get injured or sick. For the most part, it’s just minor effects, small symptoms of whatever happened to me. However, the more I love someone, the more they’re affected. If I fall in love with someone, it can become so great that the harm doesn’t even affect my body anymore, only theirs.”

“So you pushed me away because…” Bakugo felt like he was being very slow on the uptake right now.

“Because, in the days after the raid, I got sick. And when you finally came back, you were sick too, with what appeared to be the same symptoms. I have worked too hard over the years to make sure nobody is ever affected by my quirk again. I had hoped that pushing you away would stop….my…feelings.” You suddenly seemed very aware of what you were saying and your face suddenly turned very red. 

Bakugo couldn’t help a small grin from playing out on his face. But then something else you said made him frown. “Wait, how could you possibly manage not to love anyone? You would have had to—”

“Completely isolate myself? Yeah, no shit. The only contact with people are my employees, whom I barely ever speak to, and my customers. I learned how to become completely aloof. It got to the point where people simply stopped trying to get to know me.”

Bakugo really looked at you now. He saw the sunken look in your eyes and the incredible sadness that, while it seemed to have receded in the past weeks, always marked your face. Softly, he said, “Please tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him then, the tears still falling down your face. After several moments of silence, you nodded and stepped back into your apartment, opening the door wider as you did. 

“It’s a long story. You might as well come in.”

~

You told Bakugo everything. When you finished your story, the two of you sat on your couch for a long time in silence. You thought that maybe, now that he knew, he would finally have the sense to leave and let you forget about him.

However, when he did finally speak, it was of something completely unexpected. 

“You know, I’ve never been very good with emotions. I’m very bad when it comes to knowing how I feel about people…let alone what they feel about me.” A small smile was playing on his lips as he spoke; you had no idea where he was going with this. He continued, “I’m not good at letting people in. Ask my entire high school class. How I managed to make friends with those fucking idiots is beyond me. I think I just finally accepted that they weren’t going anywhere no matter what I did.”

At that moment, he met your eyes. “I think that’s what you’re going to have accept about me.”

Now you were scared and went to protest but he spoke over you. “Like I said, I’m not good at knowing how I feel about people. It usually takes them making a bit of an impression on me and let me tell you, you’ve left a fucking impression.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded.

The smile suddenly disappeared; he now looked very serious. “After everything you’ve been through, I understand why you would want to keep people away. In fact, I think you’re probably one of the bravest people I know for it. But you have to understand this: you can’t expect people to stop feeling things for you just because you want to protect them. It’s not fair to them.”

You managed to find your voice. “You don’t seem to get it…”

Growling with frustration, Bakugo practically yelled, “NO, you don’t seem to fucking get it.” He leaned in close to you and grabbed your face, angling it up towards him. Looking into your eyes, he hesitated for only a moment before he kissed you fiercely. 

Your first instinct was to resist but something ignited inside you, something that you had thought never would be again, and you were kissing him back. You kissed him with the desperation of someone who hadn’t felt the love or touch of another human being in years. You started to rise, and as you did, you accidentally bumped foreheads with Bakugo, causing the two of you to break apart.

Laughing slightly, you said, “Sorry, I’m a little out of practice.”

The blonde smirked at that. “Well then I guess we better keep practicing…” He leaned in to continue the kissing but you stopped him.

Breathlessly, you asked, “Are you sure about this? Because once we decide to keep going, we can’t go back. I am falling in love with you and you could end up paying for it.”

“Bring it on.” And with that, he was kissing you again. Pushing you back down on the sofa, his lips would make hot trails down your neck and jawline and then he would go back up. You couldn’t be close enough and without realizing it, you started to pull his shirt off. 

Pulling back from you for a second, his hair messy from your hands winding in it, he asked, “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

You nodded and with that, he took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. Then, while continuing to kiss you, he carried you to your bedroom.

~

You and Bakugo had been together for almost a month now. Despite how doubtful you still were that this could ever work, you were happier than you had been in a very long time. Perhaps than you had ever been.

Katsuki (calling him that still made you giggle) went back to work after his wounds had healed and he had been cleared. He was still working with the other district to find the villains who had escaped the raid. But he came home almost every night to you, only excluding when he had night shifts or if he had to stay at his apartment.

You did still make sure to be more careful now. You wore more protective gloves while working so as to avoid burns and did any cooking with extreme care. And as the days passed, you were actually starting to think that everything would be okay.

You should have known to trust your instincts.

That night, the two you had made plans to meet at his apartment. You left the cafe to your employees, waving at them pleasantly as you walked out. They were still not used to this new side of you and just stared; you had the thought that maybe you should do something for them. 

Taking out your cell phone, you texted Katsuki that you were on your way. That was another new accessory; before, you hadn’t really needed a cell phone and had relied on your work phone. It had only made it easier to isolate yourself.

As you walked, you took in the city around you. There weren’t really a lot of people out tonight but you enjoyed watching those who were. Many were walking alone like you but there were couples or even families here and there. Your eyes kept travelling down to the clasped hands and yours tingled at the thought of soon having Katsuki’s in yours. 

Because you were people-watching, you weren’t really aware of what else was going on around you. So you didn’t see the figure appear out of one of the alleyways until it grabbed you. Your gasp was covered by a large hand; the other arm was wrapped around your torso. This didn’t stop you from trying to struggle and scream but the hand kept you muffled all too well. 

“Calm….the fuck….down, dammit. If you don’t….want anybody else to get hurt….you will stop…struggling,” snarled your captor in your ear as they wrestled with you. At the threat of others being hurt, you did stop struggling. 

“That’s a good girl,” said the voice. They continued to pull you deeper into the alley. As they did, you saw other figures appear as well. In total, there were three. The one holding you finally stopped moving you and spoke again. “Now, I am going to release you again. Continue to be a good girl and nobody else will get hurt. Understand?”

You only hesitated for a moment before nodding, glaring at the other two sneering at you. You couldn’t really see their faces but you could see the glint of their eyes and flash of teeth. 

“Good.” As promised, the hand was removed from your mouth. “Now, we’re going to ask you a few questions.”

“What makes you think I have anything you want? I’m just a bookstore owner.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darlin’,” said one of the others. “We know you’ve been….fraternizing…with one particular hero called Ground Zero…”

You tried to keep your face passive and even tried to force out a laugh. “What makes you think a big time hero like him would have anything to do with me? And what the hell do you want with him?”

The third one piped up now; his voice sounded high and squeaky. “He’s the reason our hideout was completely destroyed and we lost our comrades, as well as most of our weapons. We simply want to make him pay.”

“And don’t try to play with us,” said the one holding you. “We’ve seen the two of you together.”

“So you guys are stalkers too? Man, you just do it all, don’t you?” 

You thought you heard the squeaky-voiced one hiss. “Enough! Tell us where he is!”

“You think I know where he is at all times? He’s working! Besides, you’re the stalkers. Shouldn’t you have figured out where he lives by now?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the second. “Once he knows we have you, he’ll do whatever we say.”

Your heart contracted but you hid your fear by saying, “If you really think that, then you don’t know Ground Zero at all.”

“We’ll see about that.” Suddenly, you felt a great blow to your head and pain lanced through you. As you began to black out, your only thought was of how much that would hurt Katsuki. 

~

Bakugo woke to a horrible pain reverberating in his skull. As he came to, his hand reached to the back of his head, where he felt a hard lump that had formed. Realizing that he must have been attacked, he leapt to his feet only to see that he was in his apartment. He doubled over as the sudden motion caused more pain to shoot through his head, his vision blurring.

When it finally cleared, he searched his apartment for any intruders but nothing was out of place. He frowned in confusion. An intruder wouldn’t have come in for the sole purpose of knocking him out, that would be fucking stupid. Unless….as the realization hit him, his heart jumped into his throat and he scrambled back to where he had woken up, fumbling to find his phone. 

When he turned the screen on, he sighed in relief when he saw that there was a text from you. However, that immediately faded when he read it:

If you want to see her alive, you will come alone. No cops and no costume.

Under that, an address was listed. Upon reading it, Bakugo’s vision filled with red. Oh, he was going to fucking kill these bastards. And he had a pretty good idea of who it was. Fine, if they wanted to go toe-to-toe with him, he’d give them what they wanted. 

But he wouldn’t go in being stupid; he would make sure you came out alive. He texted back that he was on his way. Then, as he walked out the door, he dialed Kirishima’s number. 

“I need your help.”

~

As you became conscious again, you felt that you were sitting in a chair, your hands tied. Knowing better than to struggle, you focused on the voices that were coming from somewhere else in the room. You recognized them all as the voices of your captors. 

“He’s on his way…” That was the one who had grabbed you.

“Finally…and when he does, we’ll blow him to high heaven,” came Squeaky.

“Don’t underestimate him. You saw him back at the hideout; he may be young but he’s powerful.” First one again. 

“Ain’t nobody can withstand bullets though, not without some kind of absorption quirk,” came the second one who had spoken in the alley.

“What if we use the serum, huh? He won’t be shooting no explosions then,” said Squeaky.

“No, you idiot,” growled First. “We have to bring that back to the boss. It’s the only bit of our stalk that survived and y’know he’ll have our heads if we lose it.”

“It might be our best chance though. Who put you in charge, anyway?” asked Second, sounding annoyed.

“I worked directly with the making of the serum; I am responsible for making sure it stays safe and that means we don’t use it.”

“You’re just hoping to get in the boss’ good graces,” Squeaky accused.

“Don’t you?”

Wow, these idiots aren’t very good at working together, you thought. You continued to listen as they argued, trying to figure out how to get out in time to warn Katsuki. They had said he was on his way but maybe you could still warn him.

You tried to work at loosening your bonds but that didn’t go unnoticed by your captors and one of them yelled, “Hey! Stop that!” 

You looked up to see a man striding towards you. You barely had time to register that he had drawn back his hand before he slapped you. As your head was snapped to the side, you worried at how little it stung. 

You glared into the man’s face. He had long dark hair and was so tall, you had to crane your neck. When he saw your face, he seemed confused.

“I put a bit of my quirk into that. You should be bleeding,” he said. He was the one who had grabbed you.

Before you could respond, you heard an angry shout come from outside. Your heart pounded as you recognized it. No Katsuki, please.

Immediately, the three villains grabbed their weapons and fanned out. They each aimed at the door from different angles. It really did seem like he planned to come straight from there, the idiot. You went back to struggling against your bonds, getting desperate now. Even the thought that your struggling was probably causing them to cut into your skin, and therefore his, didn’t stop you. 

Suddenly, the door was blown forward. As it did, you saw that Katsuki was practically riding it inside, using his explosions to propel him. You watched as he barrelled into the villain who had slapped you. When he did, he used the momentum to flip above the villain’s head. The door had managed to flatten First to the ground.

Katsuki landed facing you and he gave you a grin that seemed more than a little crazy. You noticed that he had a cut along his cheek; that must have been what First meant. And what had caused the explosion hero to scream in anger. 

“Hey babe, sorry I took so long.” First started to move beneath him and the blonde immediately grabbed him and lifted him into the air. “Are you the fucker who hit my girlfriend?” he asked angrily. Then with the aid of an explosion, he sent the villain slamming back into the ground. As he did, you thought you heard something ping and roll away. First lay unmoving. 

A movement behind the hero caught your eye. “Katsuki, watch out!”

He immediately spun around but it was too late. One of the villains, who looked distinctly reptilian, had gotten up and raised his gun. As Katuski spun to face him, the villain let several shots loose.

“NOO!” you screamed, a sob ripping its way through your throat. 

When the shots stopped though, the blonde was still standing. You watched for the blood to start blossoming and for him to collapse but he seemed to be looking at something in his hands. The two villains who were still standing stared in shock. “How’s that possible?” said the reptilian villain, which you realized was Squeaky.

Absurdly, Katsuki turned to you, a frown on his face. “Is there something you forgot to tell me about your quirk?”

“What?! That’s what you want to talk about right now?! How’re you not dead?” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. 

He held up something in his hands. From what you could tell, it looked like a smushed piece of metal. It took you a second to realize what it must be.

“Is that…?”

“A fucking bullet? Yeah. I just got shot like ten times and not a single one harmed me.”

“Are you saying…my quirk…”

The explosion hero grinned. “Only way to be sure is to test it.” And with that, he jumped into action. As he rushed the villains, they tried to shoot him again but it was a waste of bullets. As he neared the villain who you deduced must be Second, the villain dropped the gun and a fight ensued.

As you watched, you suddenly felt a pair of hands touching your arms, causing you to jump. “Sshh, it’s okay. I’m going to untie you,” came a whisper behind you. 

When you were released from your bindings, you turned to see a red-haired man giving you a sharp-toothed grin. It didn’t take you long to realize who it was. “Red Riot?”

“Please, Bakubro’s girlfriend can at least call me Kirishima.”

“But what are you doing here?”

“I’m in charge of getting you out of here while Bakugo distracts the villains. Come on!” He reached for your hand but you pulled back. 

“No, you have to help him!”

Kirishima glanced behind you, a look of amusement on his face. “Um…I don’t think he needs my help.” He pointed.

Turning around, you saw Katsuki breathing heavily over the slumped forms of the last two villains. Upon seeing this, you ran to your explosive boyfriend, yelling for him. He turned to you, his crazy grin softening as he saw you. 

You jumped on him, hugging him tightly. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell were you thinking?”

You felt him laugh as he hugged you back. “I was thinking that there was no way hell I was going to let those fucking bastards hurt you. And I’m fucking fine. Look, not a scratch on me!”

He set you down and stood back, holding his arms out. His clothes were completely torn but on closer inspection, you saw that he was right. The only injury he bore was the scratch on his cheek from when the villain had hit you; you reckoned that there was probably a lump somewhere on his head too.

Still…”How is that possible? Your power is explosions, not invulnerability.”

“No but I think yours is.”

“Have you not been paying attention? All my quirk does is hurt people.”

“Yeah, when you’re the one who fucking gets hurt. But what if it also helps the person by making them unable to be injured any other way? Every quirk has its drawbacks and that’s the only part of yours you’ve ever seen.”

“So you’re saying my love…protected you?”

His grin widened even more. “Hell yeah!”

A smile of your own was forming on your lips when you heard a rustling. Suddenly, Squeaky was rushing at Katsuki with what looked like a syringe in his hand. “If we can’t kill you, then how about we take away your quirk?!” he screamed. 

Without thinking, you rushed forward, grabbing Squeaky’s wrist that held the syringe and twisting it. It clattered to the ground and you proceeded to twist the villains arm behind his back. Immediately, Katsuki and Kirishima knocked him out together, with punches powered by their quirks. 

You threw him to the ground, breathing heavily. You looked up to see both heroes staring at you in amazement. “What?!” you exclaimed indignantly.

“That was so manly,” said Kirishima.

That just caused all of them to burst into laughter. Turning to Kirishima, Katsuki teased, “Guess I’m the fucking Unbreakable Hero, now, huh?”

The red-head made a face. “You think you can take a few bullets and that suddenly makes you unbreakable? It takes more than that.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you have in mind, Shark Week?”

As they continued to banter back and forth, you bent down to pick up the syringe. Inside it was a clear liquid. How about we take away your quirk. That’s what the villain had said. Could it be…had another serum been made?

“___, what is that?” Katsuki’s alarmed voice broke through your thoughts.

Looking up at him, you said, “This is a quirk-removing serum, Katsuki.” Your voice trembled with emotion. 

“Yeah, so? Give it to me, I’ll take it in to the police.” He held out his hand.

Shaking your head, you held the syringe closer to you. “Do you know what this means? I could finally be rid of it. I don’t have to hurt you or anybody else ever again.”

“But didn’t you just hear me: it protects me, too.”

“Can I really accept the risk? All it takes is one accident and I could really hurt you. Even kill you. I want it gone, Katsuki!”

The blonde sighed and looked at his friend, who just shrugged his shoulders. Turning back to you, he nodded. “Fucking fine, but before you do, can I just try a couple of things first? You know, for research purposes!”

You frowned. “Try what?”

Katsuki looked around and then picked up a large pole. Handing it to Kirishima, he said, “Hit me with this. As fucking hard as you can.”

“Katsuki!”

“Dude, I am not hitting you with a fucking pole.”

“Oh come on, you fucking chicken. Do it, Shitty Hair! Or are you not manly—”

Ping!

The sound of the pole hitting Katsuki reverberated through the building, causing you to flinch. But when you looked back, you saw that he was fine.

“You call that a fucking hit?! That didn’t even hurt! Let’s try something else!”

“Seriously, dude?”

As the two schemed, you couldn’t help but smile at their antics. Looking down at the syringe, you tightened your hand around it and stashed it in your pocket. You would not be swayed so easily but you had to admit, the true nature of your quirk wasn’t too bad.

A/N2: I apologize for the unimaginative bad guy nicknames. I was struggling with better descriptive ones and finally just gave up.

[munsonsduchess]

So. I re watched The Magnificent Seven again because I’m at home self isolating until my housemates covid test comes back in a couple days so I made some notes. Presented below as I watched the film … again

Teddy looks like he wants to say something to encourage Matthew not to speak but like he just can’t find the courage to speak up

Everyone turning to stare at Sam as he rides through the town. Like they aren’t used to seeing a man of colour make something of himself.

The bartender who tells Sam they don’t serve ‘that kind’ as a direct insulation that they don’t serve Sam’s kind. Which could have just been because Sam is a lawman and the barman is an outlaw but could also be more than that

Faraday isn’t as stupid as he looks. He knows exactly who Dan is and what Sam’s purpose was. He could tell something was happening and was ready in seconds with a gun drawn to help Sam.

He sticks around after everyone runs out because he knows Sam’s occupation and seems to want to know more.

Emma has obviously been searching for someone who could help for a long time. Teddy stopping her from talking to Sam and her acceptance seems to imply that they’ve spoken to people before but that no one has taken them seriously. Maybe because Emma is a woman

Emma is clearly ready to offer up anything she can to find ‘righteousness’. It also seems like she’s more than ready for a fight.

Sam had decided upon hearing Bouge’s name that he would take the job and then when Emma shared her convictions he knew he could pass off his intentions as unselfish if anyone asked

Faraday cheats at cards and is scared of the dark confirmed. He’s also clever enough to use his wits to get out of a situation when he’s seemingly at the mercy of two other men

Faraday has issues around killing people. He clearly shows remorse for his actions. He doesn’t seem to like violence but he’ll use it to get what he wants if he needs to

Does Faraday know who Joan of Arc is?

He’s also apparently willing to throw his life away for strangers

Emma is not here for your shit

Teddy is a good boy and he’s here to help his friend on her vengeance quest as all good friends should

Vasquez wants Sam to know that he’s not the type of man who kills in cold blood. He uses Emma as leverage because a white woman’s death will look worse for Sam

Sam offers to tear up the warrant to get Vas on his side but I have the feeling he would have done it anyway

Vas taking a minute to decide and figuring if he works with Sam there’s a possibility of him going free and not having to run anymore

GOODY! That hip swagger

“That’s ok son you just pay me double” Goody is a respected member of the community and his reputation proceeds him so there is a level of fear there at offending him or anyone associated with him

Faraday is clearly interested to see how people react to or behave around Goody. To see how the man stacks up to the story

Goody very interested in who Faraday and Teddy are and what they have to say. Putting them off their game by speaking in the middle of the saloon while he’s getting a shave

“I keep him employed and he keeps me on the level” clearly Billy has been helping Goody with his demons far beyond what we see later

Goody and Sam being friends warms my heart

That good old southern breeding. Goody can’t resist being charming

“Ain’t no such thing as a Texican” that’s one hell of a loaded statement right there

“This is not going to end well” couldn’t have said it better myself Goody

The Famous Pigeon Brothers who weren’t famous for very long

“I believe that bear was wearing peoples clothes” Joshua the man was snuck up on in the dead of night, had a boulder smashed over his head and has been tracking the culprits for two days. I don’t think you’d be in your right mind either

“Don’t call the alligator big mouth till you cross the river” Goody just has all the best advice

IT’S MY BOY!

There’s obviously something Faraday is trying to drown in all that whiskey and Teddy knows it which is obviously why he tells Faraday to keep it

Emma doesn’t trust Farday at all

Goody knows what’s up although he’s not one to talk about the battle behind him

MY SON! HE’S SO PRETTY I WANT TO CRY

Sam giving Vas the gun so he’s less threatening to Red. Same way he left his gun outside when they went after Vas

I love that Martin cut his hair off to be historically accurate but damn what I wouldn’t have given for a long haired Red in this movie

Peace offering or trolling? Both? Both.

“Yeah ok I trust you now”

Can I also say I love how Martin learnt to ride bareback for the historical accuracy? Like historical accuracy is my jam. Now I just wonder how accurate the costumes are

“Oh good it’s a black man and an Asian man quickly call your children inside for who knows what havoc they might bring”

I do love how the racism is never as overt as someone using a slur but it’s always there just under the surface

“Manservant? Really?”

Did they practice how they were going to come into town and look imposing or do they all just instinctively know how to pose? I know Goody does anyway

I cannot keep a straight face when Farday calls himself the worlds greatest lover

Sam has no time for these Blackstone men and I am here for it

Sam’s horse is just called Horse

Goody having PTSD flashbacks before the shooting even starts since he’s clearly triggered by just the situation

A western staple where the bad guys always miss and the good guys never do

At times like this Mal Reynolds comes to me speaking words of wisdom “shoot the man not the horse, a dead horse is cover, a live horse is a whole lot of panic”

Faraday and Vas being very gay and poor confused Red like “tie him up what?”

“Lincoln like the president” and goody just “oh damn”

Someone please give Emma a better shirt. She’s gonna spill out of that one

“Seems I was the only one with balls enough to do so” damn right you were

Emma just breaking down when there’s no one around to see her use she has to be strong

“Fame is a sarcophagus” “what’s a syllable?”

TABLE MANNERS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TABLE MANNERS

Goodbye to the working girls the town isn’t the same without them

Emma has a better shirt! She still looks like she’s gonna spill out though

Shooting lessons with Goody and Faraday

“The way of northern aggression”

Billy’s class just running away because he’s way too good

“Make me some eggs”

“GET SOME GRAVEL IN YOUR CRAW!”

Faraday trying to goad Goody into proving himself. Sam’s wariness and Goody turning around and showing Faraday just why he got the title he did despite the reasons why he doesn’t pick up a rifle anymore

Do any of them know what Jack is talking about?

“So far so good��

We’re to assume it’s Goody picking off Bouge’s men at the mine since he’s the only one who could make those sorts of shots which means Sam has talked him into doing it even though he’s seen what happened to Goody during the initial fight

“I’ve always wanted to blow something up”

The look on the faces of the people who live in town as the miners come through. They’ve always lived separately from these men and now they’re forced to look at their faces and see just how they’ve all been living

Sam putting the dynamite in the hotel like it’s no big deal

Poor Peter Skarsgard. He’s the bad guy or the poor Dad in a horror movie while his dad is spooning Colin Firth on a boat in Greece

“I worked for my money. I wasn’t given a million dollar loan. I’m a good guy”

Emma can shoot just fine. She does not need you Faraday

“I had a father thank you” “I didn’t” proceeds to show off as if to prove himself

“They say the nightmares never go away” no they really don’t ask Goody

“Avenge me!” Yeah faraday it’s not that hard

“I am to fight” “it comes to that and we’re all dead” excuse you Sam but Emma is the one who brought you here and she’s the one who’s been raring for the fight since the beginning but sure put her with the women and children

I’m also so mad they cut out of the scene of Vas and the school teachers kid talking

“I have three Maria’s!”

I’m afraid of owls too goody you aren’t alone

TABLE MANNERS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

How long had Bouge been in Rose Creek and making the residents live in fear? That it had to be the seven who were able to show them how to live their life again

Those loose white shirts though 👌🏼

Squinting into the sun as the realisation dawns

Sam knows Goody better than Goody knows himself and Goody knows Sam better than Sam knows himself

Sam doing his best to help his friend with his PTSD but Goody just can’t

“It looks like he’s started to drink” that’s because Goody was his friend his best friend and there are untold emotions and god knows what else between them and now that man had left but not just that but left him behind is torturous

“I’m hungry” You little shit!” Red Harvest. Professional Troll

Sam seeking refuge in what’s left of the church. Feeling the proverbial noose tightening as he clutches at his neck

Emma reminding us what this whole endeavour is for. How it all started. How it’s going to end

Bouge sitting back because he’s sure his hired men will be enough. He’s never faced opposition before so he’s confident he still won’t. Or at least that his money will solve all his problems

Also if Red only wears his war paint for special occasions and if he was tracking the group prior to joining them does that mean he put his war paint on specifically to talk to Sam

Another man in Goody’s spot in the bell tower because presumably he’s the second best shot with a rifle or the only other person they could trust up there

A+ use of Fox holes though

Jack reciting his prayers as he goes absolutely feral

Faraday’s happy little smile when he finally gets to blow something up

Jack trying to help as many men as he can, men who are fathers, husbands, good honest men

Bouge who doesn’t seem to care one ounce that the people in the village are being slaughtered and bringing the battling gun out just for extra overkill

“You ok güero?” “So far so good”

“We still have men there sir” proof that Bouge does not care one single ounce for human life that isn’t his own

That rebel yell

“The devils breath” I can only imagine how a Gatling gun got that name especially from a war vet who’s likely seen countless friends allies and enemies alike be blown down by this devil

Faraday being concerned for the children even though he’s injured himself

Jack protecting Teddy at the cost of his own life. Defiant of Denali to the end But accepting his death with a sigh believing in his faith that he’ll be rewarded in heaven and reunited with his family

“I knew you’d be back” Billy has so much faith in Goodnight and I’m gonna cry

Emma with an empty gun putting herself in front of an injured man between the injured man and Denali

Denali ain’t shit!

“You’re a disgrace”

“My daddy used to say a lot of things” these two I cannot cope

“I might need a new vest” Faraday you reckless idiot

“Hit the steeple”

“I got him!” “Oh Goody” I’m not crying you’re crying

I know there’s a lot of talk about Chris Pratt being the worst Chris but he was so good in this movie I swear. Which yeah I know doesn’t change anything but when you see him playing Faraday in that last scene where it’s all down to him. I can’t

“I’ve always been lucky with one eyed jacks”

Nope definitely not crying. Not me

Bouge’s complete disregard for human life as he surveys the town

Bouge V Sam

“If god didn’t want them sheered he wouldn’t have made them sheep” says a man who feels no remorse at all for the blood on his hands

This time it’s Bouge who’s going to feel the noose tighten and I am here for the cinematic drama of it all

God won’t save you now Bouge. Run into the church you like. It’s not going to help

“Ask for forgiveness” The reveal of the rope mark. What Sam has been doing in Rose Creek this whole time. Why he took the job at the mention of Bouge’s name

[channelmono]

I dunno if I have a lot to say, but I figured that give how many people follow me, I wanna share some tips on preserving mental health during these chaotic times

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have noticed my last story QA, which was a bit of a survey just to see how some of you lovely monitors are feeling, because I know the world in general has been stressed lately for obvious reasons. The elephant in the room is that we as individuals are all walking a tightrope of staying up-to-date about the future and how to maintain our physical health while also trying to preserve a sense of productivity and activity to sustain our mental health, the latter of which I’m noticing being especially strenuous for many of you, likely because this prolonged period of uncertainty and anxiety is highly unfamiliar. I want to disclaim right away: I am not a doctor, I am not a psychologist trained in extensive therapy who knows how to guide each and every one of you to your healthiest behaviors. However, I still wish to still help you with some advice. I do wish to see you as my friends, and as my friends, I want to ensure that you are happy and healthy. I already have a history of self-isolation, and without getting too in-depth of the exact details, this involuntarily hermit-like lifestyle we’re all being encouraged to ascribe to has been my way of living for the past several years (the involuntary-ness included). I’ve become much more acclimated to not just being alone, but stuck in a place of residence with little directive or seeming control of my own future, with a long history of trying to discern of not just what to do with my life in general, but just getting through the day-to-day. I want to discuss that day-to-day, because the month(s) away we have from returning to a normal world again is still comprised of many, many days, and if I can’t come up with a surefire long-term plan for how to deal with a future we are all in unfamiliar territory of dealing with, I can at least suggest a few low-cost stepping stones to helping you take in each day a lot easier, and hopefully help lift a bit of the collective burden over however long we may be like this. 1) DON'T LET YOURSELF GIVE UP. I feel like this is a bit of an obvious tip that might come across as “are you feeling sad? Just be happy!”, but hear me out. One of the biggest sources of human (or human-equivalent) stress is the feeling that one has no control over their life. The period where I fussed incredibly hard about the fate of my future as I was first condemned was one of the darkest, most exhausting parts of my life, as were all the times I had done before. It wasn’t merely that I was so ashamed of my failures, but it was the fact that I’d constantly and semi-consciously associate it with my entire being, to the point where I couldn’t make a casual joke in a non-depressed context that didn’t end with a side remark of how I wanted to die (now that I explained it without context… yikes.) Eventually, there was a eureka moment for me where I had enough of being tired. I’m not sure exactly what triggered it -- perhaps it was just dealing with the banality of the isolation, perhaps it was just me thinking more about how I mentally hurt myself and what I could do to stop, perhaps it was me simply deciding to find professional psychological help for it -- but whatever the case, I realized that even if the world could do bad things to me, I wanted to stop doing things that would hurt myself, as not only was being good to myself the least that I could do, but it also helped me forge a modicum of very real power for my self-esteem, giving that first boost to kickstart my life again (in part by starting this channel and making new online friends!) This wasn’t a solution to get rid of all my outside problems, but rather a means to help accept that things would be tough, but I could still live with them. Challenges will need to be faced, and there will be failures because that’s how life can be sometimes, but it also helped me better comprehend that there will also be victories, because that’s ALSO how life can be sometimes! I can’t say for sure how each and every one of you will be able to help yourself realize that negativity, hopelessness, and cynicism are not the only means to approach an uncertain and stressful future. Perhaps you already realized it! Perhaps you were in the process of realizing it but the articulation of my journey may give some guidance. Perhaps you still need some more time and thought to think about it. But whichever way, I implore you to consider that this future is not solely one to be defeated by, but one which you can fight to be happy in… and win. 2) GIVE YOURSELF A DAILY RHYTHM. One of the biggest things I see people complaining about is how without their usual daily schedule with work or school, their mental acuity is going haywire and it’s difficult to get things done. There are many reasons for why our brains are reacting to the situation the way they do: a bunch of collective trauma surrounding the pandemic putting our brains on edge for what to expect next, stress making us unable to register complex tasks, our inner survival instinct diverting away our ability to think about personal minutiae, etc. The human brain is a fickle thing doing its best to cope with the trauma it’s presented with, and first and foremost, it’s important to be patient with yourself. Going back to the “how to take on the day-to-day”, let’s talk about schedules. The truth is that many of us crave at least a mild semblance of structure and compartmentalization, and a big factor for why our minds are getting sloggy is because we’ve lost the ones we followed, mostly ones imposed onto us by our professions, and were wholly unprepared to figure out a compensation plan (as many of you students learning via Zoom conferences are aware). The practical trick I have to help remedy this is a pretty basic-on-paper one: seek out your own schedule. Speaking from my own experience, the daily grind into this miasma of a future becomes less cumbersome once you intuit what you actually define as “the daily grind”. This is not to say you need to become a rigid, Clock King-esque fanatic who plans every action by the minute, as simply understanding what you do and what you WANT to do will be of help. For me, I schedule my alarm clock to go off at 8:30. Every day I get up and make coffee or tea along with breakfast for myself and The Master. My current daily priorities are messy janitorial duties and Animal Crossing, while my personal hobbies that I’d reserve to my free time include filming content, playing video games, watching movies or Youtube, cooking, or going outside to jog. Every week or so, I go out for groceries. I do my best to go to bed and sleep before midnight. Of course, this is just MY schedule, but this is how rudimentary it can get while still giving me a sense of fulfillment when I do pass the time as I do accomplish my tasks. There are many ways to go about it, but really, one of the simplest ways to recognize them in your life is just write it out. Actually articulate it into just a really simple list that you have to transfer from mind onto paper/digital text. This is especially recommended if additional tasks or changes to your life occurs: write it down so you can remember everything! And allow yourself to do it! This is not to say you should be worrying constantly about how productive you are, as the goal is not to define yourself by how much you accomplish per day, but rather a way to give yourself that sorely needed daily rhythm we all miss, while allowing you to reward yourself when you hit your goals. And like every plan, it doesn’t need to be flawless -- there will be times where we need to relax and take a break. There might be emergencies to deal with. There may be times where things are so overwhelming where it’s like “Yknow what? I don’t wanna do anything today.” And that’s okay. On a related note: Something I’d like to place importance on with my schedule is my sleep. As someone who has experienced long periods of miserable exhaustion in my life, I cannot overstate just how important and cathartic a good, consistent sleep schedule is. I’m not joking: the night when I stopped being “insomniac” by going to bed tired but staying on my phone up until 2 AM, and instead actually went to bed at 11-ish, I woke up feeling the best I had in years. Exhaustion no longer felt like a necessary, expected burden. I felt legitimately well-rested, and discovering that I could freely feel things that weren’t depression was almost epiphanic (if that’s a word lol). I know that going to sleep and waking up on a consistent time of day might sound chore-like to many of you night owls, and there may be other concerns at play like actual insomnia, but I implore you to at least consider giving yourself a consistent nightly rhythm as well as your daily one. Being exhausted is an easy way to get stuck in your own head, and if you’re thinking dark thoughts and lack the energy to force yourself out, you can be in trouble. Don’t underdo or overdo it that you still feel like crap when you wake up. Be honest to yourself. Good sleep can be incredibly rewarding in ways that you might not even believe until you experience it for yourself.

[lowlywriter]

Safety

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! Content may be triggering to some readers!

I’m sad, so I wrote sad. Fluffy ending because I wanted to cheer myself up. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. My asks and stuff are all open (I think? Still figuring Tumblr out) and I’m always looking for new things to write. Colby’s a cute little bean in this- all the warnings are for the boyfriend at the beginning of the story.

Also, I wrote this one gender neutral- or, well I tried. Please don’t hesitate to tell me if there are pronouns anywhere I missed when I scanned over the final product. I’m new to this topic, since we just went over unhealthy relationships in one of my classes.

Warnings: abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, inner turmoil, swearing, controlling partner

Rating: Mature?

Word Count: 4,262

Colby is NOT the boyfriend in the beginning of the story.

“You belong to me.” his voice growled. It wasn’t loud; no, that would raise suspicion among the group of his friends. His words just loud enough for the words to travel to your ears, making his message loud and clear.  

You hadn’t done much to warrant such a tone; merely running to the bar to get a couple drinks for him and his friends. It wasn’t your fault the bartender starting hitting on you. You’d been uncomfortable with it- certainly not interested in his attempts.  

After all, he had been the one to send you to collect shots for the table. You had been hesitant. You were not twenty-one, and it was illegal to be in the club. But the stern look on his face had you standing and excusing yourself, smiling easily at everyone.

It didn’t matter to your boyfriend though. It never did.

The bartender thankfully had been more interested in you then the age on your driver’s license. But he was still making passes at you. It was out of your control. He had what you needed.  

You couldn’t help but tap your fingers on the glossy bar counter, anxiously chancing quick looks over your shoulder at the cheerful table your peers- all excited and a little too drunk to remember anything the next morning. You had seen your boyfriend’s eyes on you from the table, the subtle glint of anger dilating his eyes that you knew so well.  

Nothing good could come from this. You’d taken too long. His intentions were clear, and you cowered slightly into the corner of the bar as he strided towards you, eyes dancing from you to the bartender who grinned at him.  

“I think they’ve had enough,” he played off, smile bright- making it out to seem you’d been ordering all six shots for yourself. You hadn’t even intended to have one. You’d had a frilly girly drink he’d made fun of you for, but you weren’t one for alcohol, not to mention the fact that he’d already practically force fed you a shot of tequila.  

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were taken. Sorry, bro.” The bartender apologized as your boyfriend wrapped his arm around your shoulder, a little too tight to be considered a romantic gesture. He was angry.  

You pleaded silently to the bartender, praying he’d see your face- know you were in danger- but the idiot simply nodded his head towards your boyfriend and turned to assist someone else at the bar.  

“How’s about you and I go have a little talk in the bathroom?” He gritted through his teeth, voice dangerously low as he forced you towards the restrooms by a strong grip around you.  

He was a regular at this specific bar, and by default- you were now as well. The hallway was small, and dark. The lightbulb in the small corridor was burnt out, and for as long as you’d been coming- there hadn’t been any light. The men’s and women’s rooms were side by side, each smelling rancid and looking grimy and worn.  

When the both of you were enveloped in the daunting darkness, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You knew better then you scream, yell or protest. A subtle pain ignited in your spine as bone crashed against wooden beams in the drywall.  

You remained neutral, as anything else would’ve made things worse for you.  

“What the fuck were you doing flirting with that asshole?” He growled in your face, practically nose to nose with you.

“I w-wasn’t,” you tried, only to be pushed further up the wall, feet inches off the floor, being supported by nothing but his grip around your neck. Your lungs constricted at the lack of air, legs kicking slightly to try and ground yourself.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I watched you flirt with him with my own two eyes, Slut,” said eyes were now red with anger. He definitely had had a little too much to drink- just like his whole party of friends sitting just a couple feet away, completely oblivious. He was being more violent than usual, more handsy and aggressive. He’d never been this forceful.  

Your feet hit the ground as his hands left your throat, and your body threatened to slide down the wall to the floor, but his grip was soon replaced, gripping your arm with bruising strength. His movements were quick, and then you felt pain blossom in your face. He’d slapped you, or maybe punched? It all felt the same at this point.  

The sting was intense, blurring your vision momentarily.  

He spouted slurs and threats at you, but the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own sped up heartbeat. Your fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. You involuntarily pushed him away; conscious mind struggling to keep up.  

He wasn’t expecting it, clearly, so he stumbled back, taking a second to regain his balance in his drunken state. You’d taken that as your chance. The chance to get away. The chance of freedom.  

You moved quickly, feet working faster than your brain could comprehend.  

He was following you; you knew it. His feet slapping loudly off the floors. He wasn’t shouting slurs, instead pleading, making it out that you were the bad guy. That you were leaving.

Outside the door, he finally spoke up. Voice venomous, as he growled. The streets were empty, and everyone inside remained inside, clearly not too interested in your fight. A streetlight flickered, and his face was stony with anger.  

“If you walk away now, we’re fucking over.” You paused your movements, not turning to face him, but showing you were listening, “I won’t care for your slutty ass anymore. And remember bitch, no one else will want you. I’m doing you a favor by staying with you- and you go and do this shit.”  

You were at a safe distance. He would have to sprint to make it too you, and both of you knew that he would fall flat on his face if he attempted. His words were sinking in. This was it. You’d finally escaped. He was giving you the final ultimatum. Stay and be with him- have everything return to normal, or leave, and forget it all- be safe, but alone.  

“Go to hell,” you uttered, turning swiftly and sprinting down the road. Tears sprung in your eyes as you jogged, listening to his raged shouts grow softer with the distance you were putting between the two of you.

When you finally felt that you were at a safe distance, you slid down the wall, drawing your knees to your chest. You had to reevaluate everything. The past year of your life with him. You thought he had loved you, but... this wasn’t love. He’d taken it too far. You let it go too far.

Everyone had warned you about him. About his aggressive will to protect you... protect you from your friends and family. They’d been right. All your girlfriends who told you to get out while you could, told you that their boyfriends never did anything like he did.

And Colby- Colby hadn’t liked him from the start. He didn’t like Colby either. Colby warned you. He frowned whenever you said his name, glared when you recalled anything your boyfriend did. He was trying to help. Telling you how it looked from the outsider’s point of view...  

Colby had been the first your boyfriend cut off. ‘I just don’t like the way he looks at you, you’re mine, babe’ he had said, eyes full of love and adoration. You’d stupidly let him win. You started cutting Colby out. He was your best friend, and you let this man- your boyfriend- just cut him out of your life.  

It had been weeks since you’d talked to Colby. It was your fault. He had tried, tried so hard to stay in contact. He sent texts, and called- sent you silly little snapchats and invited you out all the time... but you slowly stopped responding, or replying, or joining him when he wanted to hang out.  

You cut out the whole trap house- each of those boys had been so nice to you, and the girls too. They’d been like family, and you let your boyfriend- ex boyfriend, tear everything to pieces.  

You doubted he’d even be your friend anymore. You wouldn’t want to be your friend after what you’d done to him. Colby had been trying to help- but you just pushed him away. You, single handedly, cut all the ties you had with people- for the man who was abusing you.  

You let out a quiet sob-laugh, you weren’t sure which it was. It wasn’t funny- not in the slightest, but you were fed up with yourself. How could you let him isolate you from everyone? Even your parents you hadn’t spoken to in months.  

You patted your pockets, in search for your cell phone. There had to be someone in your phone you could call to come pick you up. They couldn’t all hate you, right?

You searched your pockets, patting down your legs before letting out a cry of frustration. It was gone. You must’ve dropped it somewhere in the rush of getting out.  

You were stranded. It was late, you had no lose change for the payphones, and you were not stupid enough to go back to the bar to call someone.  

With a heavy heart, you pulled yourself up and started in the direction of a certain mansion that was closest to you. You didn’t have very high hopes, maybe they’d let you borrow a phone to call your parents or something before kicking you off the property. After cutting them out, there weren’t many other scenarios that could happen.  

The walk was long. Your back still kind of hurt, but your face was mostly numb. It was very late when you finally arrived at the trap house. If you had to guess, about twelve or something. You'd left the bar around nine, and it felt like you’d been walking for years. It was dark, the streetlights not doing much to help anything.

The gate was shut, but not locked, so you pushed up the latch and slowly walked in, closing it behind yourself in the process.  

There was still lights on in mansion- which was a good thing. Someone had to be awake.  

You trailed slowly to the large double doors, taking note of whose cars were parked out front. Colby, Sam, and Corey.  

You lifted a hand to knock on the door. It was a quiet knock, since something in the back of your mind didn’t actually want anyone to answer- but seconds later the clicking of dog claws and loud protective barks echoed in the house.  

“Sh, Navi, Buddy,” a voice hushed. Then the door clicked open. Sam peeked through the small gap between the door and doorframe, clearly cautious since they weren’t actually expecting any guests, and it was pretty late.  

“Y/N?” He questioned in surprise, eyeing you up and down.

“Uh, yea...” you replied quietly, scuffing your foot against the concrete anxiously. “Can I, uh, use your phone?”  

Sam stared for a second, deeming you no threat before pushing the door open the rest of the way. The light from the hallway lit up the front yard. Sam gasped quietly, taking a step towards you slowly. You knew you probably didn’t look too great.  

“Y/N, what happened?” his voice was quiet- almost caring. You didn’t respond, just looked down in guilt. “Here,” Sam continued after a second, walking towards you and placing a gentle hand on your back, “come inside.”

You trusted Sam. You trusted everyone in the trap house. They’d never done you wrong.  

You let Sam lead you into the mansion, he being super gentle. He brought you into the living room, where Corey and Devyn were sitting curled up watching a movie on Netflix.

You sat down, lacking all emotion. Corey glanced towards you, stiffening when he eyed your appearance.  

“Y/N, are you alright?” his voice sounding appalled, and shocked. Devyn glanced up, gasping quietly when you caught her eye, pushing herself off of Corey to sit beside you.  

“Y/N... your neck...” she frowned, fingers hovering beside your neck. She didn’t touch, which you were grateful for. It was bound to be bruising by now. Flourishing into blacks, purples and ugly yellows.  

She pulled you into a hug- but you didn’t hug back. Not yet. It was still all sinking in. The hug was a nice touch, and you desperately needed one- but... you wanted comfort from someone else. Your mind was locked on Colby, despite the fact he probably hated you.  

You squeezed your eyes shut when thumps rumbled down the stairs- it was loud and scared you. You’d been in the silence of the night for so long, circling aimlessly in your own mind, and now suddenly there were people and noises coming at you left, right and center.  

Devyn pulled back, and you were wrapped in someone else’s arms just as fast as the first pair left. You instantly melted into the embrace, arms lifting to wrap around the person as you buried your nose in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.  

Colby still smelt the same. An interesting mix of shampoo and deodorant. He had the most familiar scent too you. The smell of safety. Colby was safety.  

“Y/N... shh, what happened?” his voice was low, calm and collected- but you could tell he was scared. His body was shaking- almost as bad as yours, and his heart was faster than it usual was. You realized that you were crying, when you pulled back a little too look up- only to have a blurred vision of your best friend.  

His arms were tight around you- but you didn’t struggle. It wasn’t the same embrace as your boyfriend’s. Colby was radiating love and concern- he was radioactive with anger and control.

There were too many people around to talk about what had happened hours ago. You loved them all- but they weren’t Colby, and as of now, he was the only person you wanted to know what went down.  

You pulled away from him, arms wrapping around yourself in your best attempt to cover yourself from the harsh eyes of everyone. Sam was stood behind Colby, eyes sad. He must’ve gone upstairs to get Colby. You nodded his direction, smiling as best you could when he noticed you. He returned a sad smile; then, as if reading your mind, turned on his heels and left the room, muttering about editing a new video and facetiming Katrina before he went to bed.  

Devyn was next to pick up on the social ques. Yawning silently, and taking Corey’s hand. She mumbled about being tired, and wanting to finish the movie in their bed in case she fell asleep.  

Corey was hesitant, sending you concerned glances, before standing and following Devyn up the stairs.  

Then, it was just you and Colby. He looked shell-shocked; eyes focused on your neck. You watched his eyes trail you, scanning you for injuries.  

“Y/N, baby, what happened?” he questioned once more. You smiled lightly at the pet name; it was refreshing to hear it in such a sweet tone. He always called you cute names like that- only ever using your actual name when he was mad at you, or he was being serious about something.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you told him quickly. It was the first thing you spouted. And you were. You were so sorry. Sorry about how you treated him. How you just abandoned him. After all the years the two of you had been friends, you’d let that man get in between you and split you guys up. You were sorry for not listening to him, and basically the whole year since you met your ex. “I’m sorry...”

“No, no. Y/N, don’t be sorry... it’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re okay... Please, stop crying...” this only made you cry harder. He was being so nice to you. You abandoned him, and here he was comforting you.  

You lifted your hands up to cover your nose and mouth, shutting your eyes. Colby wrapped his arms around you once more, leading you back to the couch. He sat, pulling you down behind him.  

It was nice being in his lap. You’d always liked sitting in his lap. It’s just how your relationship worked. He had always been super good at calming you down, and this happened to be his number one tactic.  

“Y/N, I really need you to tell me what happened. You can’t just show up here after three weeks of no contact, completely banged up and scare the shit out of us all. What happened? Please, tell me...”

“I’m sorry for leaving you... Leaving you for him,” you gasped through the tears. You had to apologize.  

“It’s okay... I’m not mad. It’s fine. You’re here now. Please, what happened?”  

“We were at the bar,” you started, voice quiet as you played with a thread on your shirt. Colby’s hand was settled firmly on your back, slowly running the length of your spine. It was calming, and just sitting with Colby was soothing. “He, uh, he’s been more... aggressive lately...” You tried, trailing off. Colby was going to flip his shit.  

“He... Your boyfriend?” his voice turned stony, hand pausing on your back. His eyes were dark and his lip curling into a snarl, “that fucking asshole did this to you?”

You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you. You knew for certain; Colby had never done anything towards you in anger. But you couldn’t help but flinch away. It was too soon. Hours earlier this very situation had led to being strangled in the restroom hallway of a bar.  

“I’m sorry,” Colby whispered, anger wiping away, guilt quickly replacing it. “Sorry, babe, I know. Not the time to get mad. We need to worry about you, not that asshole.”

You didn’t reply, just curled closer into his sweater. He pulled you against him, and the two of you settled into silence. It was calming. You felt safe in the trap house. You knew all the guys would protect you in a heartbeat. And Colby would gladly get himself arrested defending you (as it had almost happened before).

Colby’s fingers ran through your hair, trailing his fingertips along your skull in a soothing motion. You closed your eyes, relaxing into him. You’d been so high strung for so long, and it was nice to just relax- and be in the arms of someone who you trusted wholeheartedly. You ducked your head under his chin, curling so your ear was pressed against his chest and your chin hidden in his sweater. He took the hint, resting his chin on top of your head.  

His hand fell from your hair to resume running lines up and down your back. He hit a particularly tender spot and you winced before you could think about what you were doing. His hand lifted instantly, and he pushed you away slightly to look at your face.

“I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me right now,” he started, voice quiet but serious. “Where did he hurt you? I need to know. I have to see if I should be taking you to the hospital.”

“He pushed me against the wall... and um, he lifted be by my neck... I- he, uh he also slapped me, or, uh or maybe he punched me? I’m not sure. It all happened so fast.”

Colby was silent for a long minute. His hand was settled on your waist, and his thumb was trailing up and down slowly. He was deep in thought, you could tell.  

“I want to look at everything, everything he did to you.” Colby told you, “somewhere where the light is good... Come, let’s go to the bathroom down here. The lighting is the best.”  

Together you and Colby stood up. His hand planted on your back, leading you slowly- just as Sam had done when you’d first arrived.  

The bathroom was super bright. You were momentarily blinded as Colby flicked the light on. You looked in the mirror. You couldn’t help but gape at yourself. You looked so broken. A bruise was forming on your cheek, and somehow your lip had been split. There was a trail of blood, and a smear on your chin. You glanced at you hand to see another smear, meaning at some point you must’ve wiped it away.  

Your neck was still fairly numb, but it was starting to hurt. There were dark oval shapes lining your neck- easily identified at finger marks from your ex’s strong grip. You hesitantly brought your hands to run along the shapes, wincing lightly.  

You stripped off your shirt, not caring that Colby was in the room. He’d seen it before- you guys were best friends after all. You turned, exposing your back to the mirror, then looking over your shoulder to see bruises on the parts you’d hit the hardest.  

“Babe, those look painful,” Colby frowned, rifling through a drawer and pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen. You downed the pills he offered dry, blinking as they passed down your throat.  

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” you told you best friend truthfully. And it wasn’t. It felt worse than it looked. You’d known you’d be bruised pretty heavily, but it was less then you assumed. Your back felt like is should be a solid strip of black and blue, but it was only in the most tender spots, which was a plus in your books.  

Colby looked like you’d just shot him or something, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.  

“Y/N, seriously? I’m sorry, but you look like you got hit by a bus. He did this to you. He fucked with the wrong person, let me tell you. I mean,” Colby paused, busying himself at the sink, “you’re bleeding still. You've got blood smears, and the bruising- oh god, the bruising- babe... please, tell me this isn’t actually happening.”

Colby turned to you, a wash cloth in his hand. He reached to wipe away the blood, his movements gentle. The cloth was warm, and felt heavenly on your skin. He dabbed at your split lip, his concentration focused on you. Finally, he reached down to take your hand, giving it the same treatment and wiping away the smear.  

When he was done, he dropped the cloth back into the sink, frowning at you.  

“There’s got to be something we can do for the bruising.” Colby mumbled to himself, lifting his hand to trail his fingers gently across your neck. It didn’t really bother you. You had no fear of Colby touching you.  

“Let’s bring you up to my room. You can just relax in the blankets and maybe the softness of the bed will ease the pain?” Colby suggested, leading you away without waiting for you to respond. You ascended the stairs together, Colby supporting you easily. You were still shirtless, but it didn’t really bother you. You had nothing to hide- everyone had already seen the worst of it anyways.  

He settled you in his bed, covering you with his blankets before kissing your head and telling you he’d return shortly. You heard him in Sam’s room. Heard him, and Sam conversing- worry clear in both voices. It didn’t bother you that he went to Sam- and was telling Sam everything. Sam was such a good friend, and he had been around longer then you.  

You let your eyes close, enjoying the warmth of the covers. Colby had been right that the bed would ease the pain. You barely felt anything as you lied in his pillows.  

“Hey, I’m back. Sam suggested using a cold compress. We don’t have those, so I got a bag of frozen carrots. I don’t think Devyn will mind. I can always replace them.” Colby explained. He sat on the edge of his bed, setting the bag down carefully on your neck so that the frozen vegetables were spread around in the bag.  

When he felt that it was properly placed, he pulled himself up to lay beside you. You shuffled over, wanting to be close to him. You sighed quietly, eyes shut and a small smile on your face. It was nice being here with him. He was taking such good care of you.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Colby whispered.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you...” you returned, then added, “and I’m sorry I let him cut you off. You’re my best friend- and I’ve been terrible to you...”

“It’s in the past,” Colby waved it off, giving you a small tired smile.  

“We should try and sleep now. I can only ward off the roommates for so long. I assured everyone that you were alright, but they’re gonna wanna check in tomorrow.” You laughed quietly, chest lighting up with warmth at the thought of all these people you wronged being worried and wanting to check up on you.  

“I don’t deserve you guys,” you mumbled sleepily, inching closer to curl into Colby.  

“You do,” he returned, wrapping around you and burying his nose in your hair. You fell asleep to Colby readjusting the carrots as he carded his fingers through your hair. It was the best you’d slept in months- even under the terrible circumstances.  

[thecleverdame]

East of Nowhere - Year Two

Sam x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  You and Sam are strangers trapped in a desolate mountain town where you live alone, isolated from the outside world, for five years.

Warnings: language, violence, smut, talk of past trauma

Words: 8.5k

Beta:  ilikaicalie  

This story is complete (44k) and available now on Patreon for a pledge of 2.50. >>CLICK HERE<<

-

YEAR TWO

One Year, Three Days

“This is the one.” You stand beside Sam in the fading light of the afternoon, the wind tossing his hair around his face. Crossing your arms you pull the jacket tighter around you. You’ve been inside every house in the residential area of Shadow Hill, but none of them felt quite right, not until this one.

It’s at the very end of the cul-de-sac, where there’s more room between the houses, not to mention the edge of the forest in the backyard, which flanks your new home with thick pine woods.

You know just by looking at the outside that this one is the right fit. The deep blue siding reminds you of the color of the ocean in books, a rich blue that feels calm and peaceful.

“You sure this is the one? How do you know?” Sam inquires, tilting his head, trying to determine what makes this place different from the other forty houses you’ve spent days inspecting.  

“I’m not sure,” you shrug, admiring for another moment more, then grabbing the wrist of his jacket, pulling him toward the steps. “It just feels like us.”

Once inside, your instincts are only confirmed. The living room is warmly lit with a soft fire, filled with overstuffed chairs and rich colors. Leading off the main living area is a grand oak dining table, big enough for an entire family. The kitchen is new and sleek, pots and pans hanging from hooks above the island. This house feels like a home, almost like someone’s lived here before.

“I like it,” Sam nods in approval, pouting his bottom lip. “Let’s check out the second floor.” You follow Sam upstairs, finding several bedrooms with large beds, each more luxurious than the last. It’s a far cry from the shitty little hotel room that you’ve shared for the last year.

“Why are there so many pillows?” Sam squints, “no one person could possibly need that many pillows.”

“They’re decorative. I like them.” You smile at him, swinging your hips like a happy-go-lucky child.

“I won’t even attempt to fight you for a room, you choose the one you want.” Sam grins, nudging open the door at the end of the hall, peering in. You frown, a sudden reality hitting you for the first time. “What?” He asks, his smirk falling at your abrupt shift in attitude.

“It’s gonna be a little weird not sleeping in the same room, that’s all.”  You walk past him, inspecting the bathroom, thrilled to see a soaker tub big enough for three people.  The look on his face is hard to read, “I’m used to waking up and seeing you right there, talking and farting in your sleep.”

Chuckling, Sam shakes his head “You don’t even want me to tell you some of the noises you make.” You raise your eyebrows and he continues “Yeah, I’m not the only one who talks in their sleep. Oh, don’t stop, harder....lots of sex dreams.”

“Sam!” You yell, slapping his arm. You drop your eyes out of embarrassment, giggling because you have a pretty good idea of who you were dreaming about. When you look up, there’s a broad smile plastered across his face, chest shaking as he quietly laughs to himself. “I hate you,” you grit slapping him again.

“Who am I to say what it was about, maybe you’ve just been dreaming about a really great full body massage.” He cracks himself up, leaning into the wall for support.

“You’re a real comedian.” You sigh, trapped in the space between embarrassment and amusement. “I want this room, the big one.”

One Year, Five Weeks

You think the house will help to alleviate some of the tension between the two of you and, for a couple weeks it does. Sam has one rule above all others, you don’t separate. You get it, you understand why it’s important that you’re always within earshot. In theory, anything could happen, but the fact is nothing ever happens. Your lives become a mundane routine, planned around books and spells and meals that’s wearing you down day by day.

The little things Sam does drive you crazy and not in a good way. Like the way his spoon always hits the side of his bowl when he’s eating soup or how he chews on the ends of all the pens until they’re twisted into mangled plastic. He leaves the toilet seat up and the milk on the counter and he always has to know where you are, every fucking moment.

“It works better if you use the scrub brush,” Sam recommends, sipping his coffee.

“I like the sponge.” You side eye him, elbow deep in rubber gloves and dirty dishes.

“You know, you don’t really have to do that. If you just wait, they’ll clean themselves.” He leans against the counter, seemingly intent on watching you wash.

“No, I do have to do it. Otherwise, they’ll sit here all day and every time I come into the kitchen, I have to stare at a sink full of dishes.” The organized scientist in you has reared its ugly head. Sam’s a wonderful man in so many ways, but he’s obscenely messy.

“Why are you mad?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m not mad,” you grit, jaw clenched.

“Really? Because you seem angry.”

This is the point in cartoons where steam blows out of someone’s ears. Every bit of resentment, indignation, and sexual frustration is boiling to the surface.

“I said I’m fine.” You turn away from him, dropping a bowl to the floor where it shatters with a sickening crack. “God, damn it!” You scream, clenching your fists.

To Sam, this seems like a massive overreaction, but for you, it’s about so much more than a broken bowl.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You get the big pieces and I’ll grab the broom.” Sam moves toward the cupboard.

That’s when you erupt.

“Sam, for fuck's sake stop telling me what to do! Jesus, I’m capable of cleaning up broken glass!” You shake with rage.

“What the hell is your problem?” He shoots back, both ready for a fight.

“You’re my problem!” You scream. As if it had been planned, you step with all your weight directly onto a sharp shard of glass that cuts into your foot like a knife through butter. You shriek, falling onto your butt, coming down hard on your tailbone with a sickening smack on the tile floor. “Fuck, ow….ow.”

Sam crouches in front of you, with his hand around your ankle before you have a chance to process what’s happening. He lifts your foot up to get a better view and cringes, “that’s deep.”

“Let me go,” you kick at him, not hard enough to do any damage, but enough to get a point across.

“I need to get it out,” he scoffs, tightening his grasp.

“I’ll do it myself. I said don’t touch me,” you hiss, pulling your leg back again. This time, he lets you go, you wince as you scoot away from him.

“I’m just trying to help.” His tone betrays the words and there’s venom under the surface.

“I don’t need your help, I’m fine.”

He watches from the other side of the kitchen as you inspect your foot. He was right, it is deep, maybe three or four inches sunk into flesh. It’s a thick gash that’s pooling blood all over the light grey floor. Your stomach turns a little when you realize that you’ve backed yourself into the corner and have to pull it out of your own foot.

The pain comes without warning as if seeing the injury triggers the physical response. A sharp ache rises from your foot and up your legs and tears well over your eyes before you can stop.

It fucking hurts and suddenly you’re worried maybe you’ve managed to really injure yourself. What if you hit a tendon or actually did some permanent damage? The distress rises to your chest as you break out into a sweat.

The pain spirals and the blood isn’t stopping. God, you hate the sight of blood, it’s always made you lightheaded.

“Sam…” you panic, voice trembling.

“Here, let’s get you up.” Without missing a beat, he scoops you into his arm and carries you to the living room like he’s done it a thousand times before. That’s all it takes for him to forget what a bitch you’ve been; he hears the fear when you say his name and all is forgotten. After jogging to the bathroom, he reappears with a small bag.

“It hurts,” you spit, covering your eyes with your arm. You don’t want to look, the thought of all that blood and glass makes your stomach turn over.

“I bet,” he raises your leg into his lap, blood dripping all over his jeans. He doesn’t seem to care, though. You feel his wide hand slide under your yoga pants, halfway up your calf, squeezing lightly. “I’ll take care of you.”

With those words, Sam bears down, holding your leg still with a firm grip and rips the glass out. Not only is there pain, but more concerning is the steady stream of blood gushing out that is warm and slick, streaming down your heel. You don’t speak, you just make a strangled noise that Sam responds to by squeezing your upper thigh.

Your eyes pop open and the look on his face makes you feel even worse, “It’s bad huh?”

He nods tightly, “You’re gonna need stitches.” When you whimper, he just nods. “Don’t worry, you won’t remember. Gonna get you real drunk first.”

One Year, Four Months

You twirl spaghetti around a fork, coiling the noodles in just the right amount before popping it into your mouth. “Oh my gosh, Sam” you nod enthusiastically, “this is really good.”

“See, I’m getting better. I used the recipe this time,” he grins and you both dig in.

You’ve been swapping childhood trauma stories all night and now it’s your turn.

“We used to go on these camping trips when I was kid. Every year, my dad would pack up way too much shit in the back of our station wagon and drag us out to the middle of nowhere.” Sam sits back in his seat, sipping his beer. He likes when you tell the stories, he always seems fascinated by what was usually your boring, run of the mill childhood memories.

“Your dad’s an outdoorsman?” he inquires, crossing his ankles.

“Big time. He was in the army and when he got out, he spent years teaching wilderness survival. He’d live outside if he could.” You pour yourself more wine, then you continue. “So, he decides that we’re going to the Smokey Mountains for two weeks. He drags the whole freaking family out there, my mom and sister, my cousins and asshole uncle Ted. I didn’t care about any of them, I was so excited just to spend time with my dad. He’d taught me, what I thought at the time was a lot of bushcraft skills, I mean, I was just a little girl, but I knew how to build a fire and get a fish off a line, so I thought I was hot shit. I was desperate to prove myself. I never wanted to be like other girls my age, I wanted to hunt and fish and chop trees. I don’t know, I guess I thought it was the best way make my dad proud. So, we’d been there about a week when I decided that I wanted to go off on my own adventure. I packed a bag and wandered off. My cousin, Ryan, was supposed to be watching me, but he was too busy reading comics and no one else noticed.”

“Oh no…” Sam winces, rocking back in his chair.

“It gets better,” you promise. “I followed the trail for a while and then decided that I was fully capable of making my own way in the world and I ventured off into the woods. I probably walked for an hour before I decided I wanted to go back to camp, but it was too late; I was so lost. I walked in every direction and had no freaking idea which way was out. I was eight years old, with a ‘My Little Pony’ backpack and a pair of pink binoculars. I wasn’t dressed for anything more than a trip to the park and the sun started to go down….I was so scared, Sam. This huge storm was rolling in and when it started to rain, I just remember curling into a ball and crying”

“What did you do?” Sam’s enthralled, picking at the label on his bottle.

“I started thinking about my dad, he always said that if you aren’t finding a solution, you're contributing to the problem. So, I looked for a solution, which in my case, was finding the thickest pine tree I possibly could and crawling underneath. It hurt like hell, I was all scratched up, but I knew it would at least keep me out of the rain. And that storm, God, I hate thunderstorms to this day. It was so loud and there was so much lightning. I remember being curled up in the mud under that tree, freezing, and telling myself out loud that I was going to be alright.  Even as a kid, I knew that I had to make myself believe that I was going to survive and I was capable of handling the situation. It was going to be awful and I was going to cry - but that was okay, as long as I made it through.”

“You were out there all night?” Sam leans forward setting his drink on the table.

“Yup. It was almost twenty-four hours before my dad found me. I was wet and dirty, but I was in one piece. You know he didn’t even yell at me? He just hugged me and told me he loved me.”

“That’s incredible, the whole thing,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’d like to meet him.”

“You will,” you take a sip from your glass, pulling your knees up to your chest, “he’s gonna like you. He’s a ‘get shit done’ kind of guy. You kinda remind me of him.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Sam’s been less and less positive as the months go by.

“Yeah, we will,” you confirm.

Sam’s still for a moment, his eyes shifting as his own thoughts rush in.

“When, ah, Dean and I were kids, my dad was gone all the time. My first real memory is being in this smelly, dirty motel room and crying because I just wanted my dad to stay with me. I didn’t understand why he left, you know? Dean must have gone out or something because I distinctly remember that when he came back to the room, I turned my pillow over because I was afraid he’d see it was wet and he’d know I was crying.” Sam loses himself in that memory for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know, four maybe? Young enough that no one in their right mind would leave Dean in charge of me.” He scoffs and takes a drink, “That’s just how it was though. My mom died and dad needed to hunt, needed to fill that void.”

“Sounds to me like he was coping the only way he knew how t,” you suggest. Sam’s talked about his father before and you know there’s never ending layers to that relationship.

“I don’t hold it against him, not anymore. He did the best he could under the circumstances.  For a long time, all I wanted to do was everything that he hated. Just be a normal guy, get married, have a couple kids, and be a better father than he ever was.”

“What? You don’t want that anymore?”

“I’m thirty-three and, forgetting for a moment that we’re stuck in Shadow Hill, I’m deeper into this life than my dad ever was. If you care about people, you don’t make them a part of this life.”

“Maybe you don’t get to make that choice for other people,” you shoot back. “Everyone has their shit, Sam, and I’ll give it to you that your shit is crazier than most, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He gulps down the last of his beer, “I’m going to bed.”

One Year, Five Months

You’re going alone, you’re going no matter what he says because you don’t care about his rules anymore.

Sam’s reading in the living room, so engrossed in The Handmaid’s Tale that he doesn’t really hear you when you square off your shoulders and say, “I’m going for walk.”

He just smiles up at you, completely oblivious to whatever you just told him, “Whatever you want.”

If we’re being a hundred percent honest, you know it’s going to piss him off. But, there’s no way you are both going to survive without a little alone time every now and then. If it keeps up like this, one of you is going to kill the other.

You wander down the street and behind the houses to Miller’s Path, leading out of the town and into the looming pine forest that surrounds every side of Shadow Hill. After walking for some time, you veer off the path, heading toward a clearing in the distance.

You maneuver through the brush, the trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They have the appearance of driftwood, twisting in patterns that remind you of seaside waves; even the color of the moss is kelp-like. They are soft and damp, yet your fingers come away dry.

You tilt your head upward, feeling your hair tumble further down your back; the pines are several stories tall, reaching toward the golden rays of early fall. Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. A new smile paints itself on your face, rose-pink lips, semi-illuminated by the dappled light. Before you know it, your feet have begun to walk, body and mind both on autopilot - it's around noon and you don’t think you’ve been gone that long.

You find the clearing, trotting happily back out into the sunlight.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam’s voice booms, snapping you out of your solitary moment. You whip around to the sight of him standing at the edge of the tree line, his chest huffing and eyes wild.

“What, I’m just...out here.” You’re caught off guard more than anything else, stumbling over your words. Sam’s mad, breathless, nostrils flaring, pissed the fuck off.

“Just hanging out?” He throws his arms up, stepping closer to you.

“I was just taking a walk, I told you where I was going…” You step back, he looks like he might throw you over his shoulder and lug you back to the house himself.

“You’re acting like a damn kid sneaking around. What if something happened to you?”

“Nothing is gonna happen to me. What do you think is going to happen, Sam? Nothing ever fucking happens here. It’s just the same shit day after day and it’s driving me insane. It’s making me resent you and it’s not even your fault, I know that. But, I need to be able to take a walk or go to Tolliver’s or do just one damn thing on my own.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m not done! Let me finish. Look, if I could choose anyone to be here with, it would be you, Sam, it really would. I had no idea I needed you in my life before I met you, which I know sounds nuts and makes no sense whatsoever, but it’s how I feel. I like spending time with you, but I need time to be alone, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“What if you decide you want to go for a stroll and you never come back? You just disappear. Huh? What then?”

“If I’m going to disappear, it’s going to happen whether you know where I am or not. I could be sitting next to you on the couch and poof, gone. Just like that,” you snap your fingers for added effect and he winces.

“Okay, sure, let’s just throw caution to the wind. You don’t care, right? Whatever happens, happens!” He’s screaming, pointing at you with an accusatory thrust of his arm.

“I never said that,” you glare, “stop being so dramatic! God, I hate you so much right now!”

“Screw you,” Sam, spits, lunging toward you and the next thing you know his mouth is crashing into yours. You’re still in shock, mouth hanging open as his tongue snakes past your lips, meeting your own. He tastes like almonds and salt and it is fucking wonderful. His arms engulf you, enveloping you in a crushing embrace, pulling your body flush with his. You tip your head to the side, mouth opening further to give him full access, a move which he accepts eagerly, his tongue exploring deeper as this kiss becomes less about rage and more about a year and half of sexual frustration. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it occurs to you that despite how good this feels, you’re still pissed. Groaning into his mouth, you place two hands on his chest and push back, parting in a breathless smack. Sam looks down at you, his shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath.

“You kissed me.” You meant it as a question, but instead you’re just stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he flexes his jaw, “I did.”

“Well...I...” Just a moment ago there was so much you needed to say, but your head is swimming and you can’t think. “I’m not saying that I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t done-”

In the distance there’s a faint noise, growing louder. At first, you both look from side to side, but the closer the sound gets the more you realize it’s coming from above you. By the time you identify the noise as paper fluttering in the air, you can see the mystery object plummeting down toward the ground and it lands with a heavy thud on a patch of grass. You both inch toward it, Sam moving in front you with his arm out, “Don’t get too close.”

You stay behind him until you realize what you’re looking at and step forward as he grabs at the back of your shirt. “It’s alright, it’s just a book.” You bend down and pick up what appears to be a very worn, very old copy of Pride and Prejudice.

“What the..,” Sam’s voice trails off as you show it to him. There’s a feather sticking from between the pages and you open it to reveal a small line of text that’s been underlined by hand.

Glancing up at Sam you clear your throat read the text, “Sometimes the last person on Earth you want to be with is the one person you can't be without.”

“What is that, like Jane Austen?” he asks, completely perplexed.

You suppress your urge to comment on the fact that he recognizes Jane Austen when his face twists. You can watch the flutter of realization cross his face. “What?” You shift the book in your hands, “what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s watching us,” he snorts.

“But,” you hesitate trying to decide what the right questions are, “who?”

“I don’t know, but literature’s greatest hits don’t just rain the from the heavens. That was meant for us.”

“This is freaking me out.” You wipe your mouth, feeling the weight of the novel, and looking behind you.  

Sam’s words sink in; someone’s watching.

He looks from you to the book, then up to the sky. There’s a moment of silence before he loses it. “What is this? A lesson?” he shouts, turning in a circle with his arms outstretched. “We’re listening, we’re fucking listening! Hello?” Nothing. He’s fuming, his cheeks bright red and fists clenched. He looks like he’s ready for a fight and not the kind that utilizes words. He wants to break something, frantic for anything to hit and watch his knuckles bleed.

“Sam,” you reach out, grabbing his wrist. He recoils when you touch him, pulling back as if he’s going to smack you. It’s muscle memory, something dormant left over from too many years of staying constantly vigilant and sleeping with a gun under his pillow. He cocks his fist and you stumble back, nearly falling over as he catches you.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to-” his face scrunches, to your surprise there are tears welling up in his eyes, “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

What Sam can’t tell you is the combination of emotions coursing through his veins. He’s so frustrated that he can’t even control his own reactions and it makes him feel painfully impotent.

“I know, Sam,” you drop the book to the ground and wrap yourself around him, pressing your head over his heart, “I know you wouldn’t.”

One Year, Seven Months

After the ‘Dr. Darcy Incident’, as you dubbed it, Sam does his best to give you more space. And just like you predicted, your relationship with him begins to heal itself almost immediately. Time away eases the urge to pick at each other and allows you to enjoy your time together again. It’s a morning like any other, except Sam isn’t there when you wander half asleep down to the kitchen. Sam’s always awake before you, a pot of coffee already brewing by the time you crack your eyes open for the first time. You assume he must need the sleep and try to recreate his normal morning routine, so that by the time he wanders into the dining room, there’s two eggs and wheat toast waiting for him.

“Good morning,” you greet him, setting your plate next to his.

“Good morning,” his voice is low and he blinks at his eggs.

“You still asleep over there?”

“I think so,” being the man that he is, he just throws you an appreciative glance and digs in.  He spends the rest of the day going through his normal routine; run, weights in the basement, then a shower and off the to the library to grab a few books he wants to add to your growing in-home library. By that evening, he’s looking pale, dark circles forming under his eyes. He tells you it’s just a cold and that he just needs some sleep. You don’t think twice. Maybe he’s not feeling well, but it doesn’t set off any alarm bells. The following morning, you’re up earlier than usual, feeling uncharacteristically rested. Lacing up your sneakers, you hit the snowy pavement as the sun is rising over the horizon. It’s a beautiful morning, too cold for a walk, but it’s perfect as you pick up speed out of the neighborhood and head towards town. For several miles, all you hear is the controlled sound of your breath and your feet hitting the ground. You push further and faster than you ever have before, extending your route up the hill past Hill’s Cinema (the one room movie theatre) and winding back down around the city center park. By the time you’re trotting back to the house, the sun is high overhead and the chill of a bitter winter day is creeping in. Covered in a thick sheen of sweat, you head for the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of water and drink it. After a few moments, you happen to see a foot peeking from around the corner near the bottom of the stairs.

“Sam,” you call high pitched. You don’t want to look. The tight grip of fear rises in your chest as you round the corner and find him sprawled on the floor, face down still in his pajamas. Dropping to your knees, you turn him over. The moment you touch his torso, you can feel the sweat soaking through his shirt, he’s drenched. “Sam, can you hear me?” You brush away the damp hair stuck to his forehead. He’s burning up, his whole body is radiating heat. You’re not sure what to do, the only semblance of medical training you have is from watching re-runs of House on daytime cable. Shaking your hands in a panic, you try to mentally put together a list of priorities. At the top of that list is his breathing, so you press an ear to his febrile, damp chest and listen. He’s breathing shallowly, but his heart is galloping a hundred miles a minute. He’s so hot, you know it has to be dangerous, his body temperature must be cooking him from the inside out.

“Sam!” You yell, right at the shell of his ear. He’s three times your size and you know there’s no way you can move him on your own. “Sam! Wake up!”

When he doesn’t move, you do the only thing that comes to mind, you slap him, hard and fast right across the face. He jerks and his eyes flutter open with a groan. Thank God.

“Hey, can you hear me?” You hover over him, his eyes rolling back into this head for a moment before settling on you.

“What?” he slurs, his face contorting.

“You gotta help me Sam, you have to get up.” You move behind him, lifting him into a sitting position and fuck if he isn’t ridiculously heavy, his limp body doing nothing to assist you. “I can’t do this by myself. We just have to get to the shower, it’s right there.”

You grab his face and turn his focus to the small bathroom just off the entryway. “Okay,” he gulps and squeezes his eyes shut, “I’m dizzy.”

“I know, but we gotta do this now. Come on.” You stand in front of him, taking his hands and pulling with every ounce of strength you can muster. With a minimal amount of assistance, you hike him up, his arm grasping at your shoulders. The two of you shuffle down the hall, his weight threatening to take you both down. You get him into the shower, where he collapses onto his butt with a thud.

“My brain feels like it’s boiling,” he rubs a hand over his face.

“You’re gonna feel better in a minute.” In reality you have no idea if what you’re doing will help in the slightest, but he doesn't need to know that. You climb in the tub behind him and he instantly falls limp between your legs, his back crushing your chest as his head leans back on your shoulder. The fever is practically pulsing through him, his cheeks are bright red and heartbeat still quick, threatening to beat out of his chest. With your shoe, you kick at the faucet until a burst of freezing water erupts from the shower head and gushes over the both of you. You both yell in shock as the icy stream soaks your clothes and washes over your skin. After a few torturous minutes, the drop in temperature seems to calm his body. You’re shaking, teeth chattering as you feel his hand grip your knee. He turns his head toward you, his face at your throat.

“This is not at all how I imagined taking our first shower.”

“First?” You laugh, completely exasperated, chin trembling, “talk about presumptuous.”

You wrap an arm around him from behind, squeezing his wide shoulders and kissing his cheek, “You scared the shit out of me, Sam.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “didn’t mean to.”

Once he’s fully coherent, you give him aspirin, find him a change of clothes, and tuck him back into his bed. He grabs your hand as you walk away, pulling you beside him. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

You smile, patting his chest “It’s what we do, right? You and me ‘till the wheels fall off.”

One Year, Nine Months

Sam has no intentions of going through your stuff, he’s just out of toothpaste and you’re out for a run. He pads into your en suite bathroom, feeling like a kid who’s trespassing in his parent's bedroom. Neither of you have ever said your rooms were off limits, but there’s an unspoken respect for personal space. He pulls open a few drawers, pushing around lotions and q-tips when he sees it. He knows what the pills are the moment he lays eyes on them. Amelia’s were in the same pink, little plastic case she pulled out of her purse every time the alarm on her phone went off. Looking behind and satisfied you’re nowhere nearby, he pops the case open, to find half the pack empty.

You’re taking birth control pills.

If he’d asked you about it, you would have told him that you found them in the pharmacy a year ago, right after the ‘almost kiss’ and figured that taking precautions was the smart thing to do. You didn’t know where this thing with Sam was going, but it felt like it might sneak up on you someday and you didn’t want any more surprises.

Sam looks at the pills again, weighing out several scenarios until he hears you bounding up the stairs. He hastily shoves the pack back in the drawer behind an open box of tampons. He finds the toothpaste just as you swing through the doorway, sweating and breathless.

“Jesus Christ,” you jump startled at the sight of him.

“Sorry,” he smiles tightly, waving a tube of Crest, “just trying to brush my teeth.”

One Year, Ten Months

You slide on sock feet over the hardwood of the living floor and take a seat at the edge of the arm chair. “I’m going to the greenhouse.”

“You want me to come with you?” Sam glances up from his nest on the floor with a pen between his teeth.  He’s sitting cross legged in front of the coffee table, books and notes everywhere.

“No, I’m good, I need some quality time in with my African Violets.” You tie your sneakers, watching him as he shakes his head and makes a note on an already crowded legal pad. For a moment, you let your mind wander. The intellectual in you, the woman that loves historical fiction and collects vintage copies of the periodic table, can’t help but be insanely attracted to this man.

He will never know how utterly delicious he looks in a v-neck t shirt, barefoot, and lost in some obscure text. Sam’s always a little sweaty and at this very moment, there’s a sheen layer of perspiration right at the hollow of his throat that’s nudging your mind in a thousand directions. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex, but you don’t hold onto hope because Sam might as well be the president of the Shadow Hill Abstinence Society.

“I’ll bring you lunch,” he offers, without looking up.

“Sounds good, see you later.”

You hop on your bike and enjoy the ride to the greenhouse. It’s on the far side of town, a little over a mile, and you shiver in the cool morning air, your thin coat doing little for the brisk ride.

Green Thumbs, as the sign reads, is a fully functioning hot house as big as a barn. The heat hits you in a wave as you open the frosted glass door, enjoying the smell of the flowers and earth that overtakes your senses. You check on Sam’s plants first, the ones he asked you to cultivate for spell work. You fuss over the Mugwort and water the Lady’s Mantle before moving to your orchids that require repotting. At first, you didn’t know if you’d be able to grow anything, with Shadow Hill wiping the slate clean, but the greenhouse has proven to be space that allows change to stick. Your flowers and herbs grow tall and strong, perhaps better than they should. You lose track of time, surprised when you hear movement behind you.

“Hey you,” you see Sam and turn to greet him with a sweet genuine smile.

Sam gulps. It’s hot in here and you're in a tank top that’s sticking to your sweaty, glistening body. There’s dirt smeared over your stomach and arms and a little just beside your nose. Your hair is a wild mess, barely contained by the failing ponytail. He’s been having a harder and harder time with his own self control when it comes to you, but this is the moment he knows that it’s only a matter of time before the dam breaks.

“Sandwiches,” he holds up a paper bag, looking at you with the familiar yet strange look he gets from time to time. You have no idea what goes in that head of his, but you’d like to find out. You wash your hand off with the hose and join him on the small wooden bench for turkey sandwiches. He hands you a bottle of water as you catch his eyes wandering over your body.

You glare at him, “I know I’m a filthy mess.  I promise I’ll shower before I sit on the furniture, okay, dad?”

Sam just chuckles, looking at roses and biting into his food, “You’re so far off base you don’t even know it.”

One Year, Eleven Months, Two Weeks

A deafening crash of thunder rips you from your slumber, as your heart beats nearly out of your chest. The second boom makes you jump, as lightning illuminates your room. It’s so loud, that it sounds as if the heavens might crack open from the power. Rain is falling heavily on the roof as you crawl out of bed and look out your second story window. The clouds look low enough that the far mountain peaks appear claustrophobic at the proximity. Between the flashes of lightning, there’s an inky darkness that sinks into the marrow of your bones. You glance at the clock next to your bed, but it’s black. Great, the power must be out. You don’t like storms. Most of the time, you’re an adult and you can power through it, but this is loud and bright and something feels uneasy and electric all around you. You make your way across the hall and rap at Sam’s door.

After a moment, you hear, “Y/N?” You turn the handle and creep inside as he sits up, shirtless and dazed.

“I um, I just...the storm woke me up,” you shift from one foot to the other, standing in his doorway.

“You want me to get up with you?” he mumbles, trying to shake himself from his sleep.

“No, I’m being a baby, go back to sleep. I’ll read or something.”

Sam throws back the sheets on the open side of his bed, and nods with his chin, “Get in here.”

You don’t hesitate, you crawl in beside him, and he pulls the cover up to your waist. You don’t know if he’s fully coherent or not, but he rolls into you, as if it’s no big deal. His body presses into your side, his face burying into your neck and his hand sliding across your stomach and coming to rest on your hip.

Shit.

You lay like that for a while, now more awake than ever before in your life. Everywhere he’s touching you feels excruciatingly sensitive, like you’re in overdrive. Sam’s breathing hot at your neck just under your jaw and instead of softening with sleep, it’s only getting faster and faster. A crack of thunder roars down from the night sky and you involuntarily jerk. Sam’s hand tightens around your hip, his body pressing into your side as he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

You feel the shift of his head as his lays a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, it’s not a grand gesture, but it’s supremely intimate as you lay here in his bed. He kisses you again, this time moving down a little further, just the tip of his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip your head away, giving him more access. His hand moves from your hip back over your stomach, resting his palm just below your belly button.

“Can I touch you?” he murmurs at the shell of your ear. You exhale in a desperate, fractured moan.

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding.

Sam pulls at the hem of your nightgown and before you know what’s happening, it’s up and over your head, leaving you completely naked. He makes a guttural grunt of approval, pleased to see you’ve forgone undergarments. Still on his side, he leans over and cups one of your breasts with a calloused hand, taking your nipple into his mouth. You gasp, his wet tongue sliding over the hardened bud before tugging gently with his teeth.

His fingers play down your abdomen, barely grazing, as his touch sinks lower. You feel his fingers swipe over your sex, the tip of his fingers delicately stroking over your lips. When he feels that you’re wet, he pushes further, coating his fingers with your own slick. The pressure of his finger shallow inside you makes you quiver, your thighs falling apart.

Continuing to mouth your breast, his finger moves upward, out of your pussy to find your clit with expert efficiency. He rubs over the little bundle of nerves, eliciting a buck of your hips.

For what seems like a lifetime, he works your body just like this. His hand between your legs and nipple between his lips. His finger moves back and forth across your clit, rubbing and coaxing soft moans as you rock your hips up into this hand. Sam rolls his tongue over your nipple, then clenches down sending shocks that reverberate in your nether regions.

“I’m going to taste you,” he explains calmly, pressing a kiss between your breasts, moving downward placing his lips at the crown of your ribcage.

“Sam,” you puff, his words only adding to the anticipation, just a vague outline of what’s to come next, leaving him to fill in the details. The caress of his lips travel down your stomach, stopping for a moment to trace the outline of your belly button with his tongue. As he moves lower, he readjusts his body, crawling between your legs, hooking his hand behind one of your knees and bending your legs, using his shoulders to hold your shaking thighs open for him.

There’s a scrape of his teeth over the mound of your sex and you feel his breath before anything else, hot and warm with his face so close to your apex. Then his fingers; Sam uses his thumb and index finger to peel you open, revealing the throbbing little bundle of nerves.

There’s a tight swell of anticipation building in your stomach, but it’s nothing to prepare you for what comes next. With the tip of his tongue, slippery and warm, he scoops up and over your clit, once, twice, three times.

“Sam,” you groan, your back arching as he repeats the same, slow lick, just his tongue and fingers to hold you open. With his free hand, he reaches up, spreading his palm wide over your stomach, holding you down. Without warning, his whole mouth engulfs you, running his tongue flat and hard over the sweet spot that now controls every inch of your body.

Sam’s fantasized plenty of times about what you would taste like, but it’s different, better than he imagined. You’re salty and metallic in his mouth, making him only want more.  He has a plan for this first time, what and how he wants to pleasure you. Between the noises you're making and the insistent thrust of your hips into his face, he knows he’s right on target.

He could do this for hours, incandescently happy with his head in a vice grip between your thighs, with a mouth full of tangy slick.

You don’t know long he’s down there, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes? All with his tongue making spine-tingling circles around your most sensitive parts. He knows what he’s doing too, changing his rhythm, adjusting the pressure of his tongue to keep you from coming, he doesn’t want that yet.

He knows you want more, he almost fucks you with his fingers, but he wants the first thing you feel pushing inside to be his cock. He wants you to come for the first time while he’s in you. He wants to watch you pulse and shake while he’s sunk deep. His dick is rock hard, grinding against the sheets as he thinks about it.

“Sam,” he scrapes his teeth over your clit when you call his name, groaning into your pussy. His tongue dips down, teasing between your folds before moving back up to his focus area. All you want is something, anything to fill you up, his tongue, his hand, his cock, the specifics don’t matter.

“You want me inside you?” he asks, looking up from your thighs.

“Please, God yes,” you groan at the sight of him, crawling back up over your body.

He settles his hips between your own, pushing his sweatpants down his thighs. His hand brushes stray hair out of your face and then he kisses you for the second time since you’ve known him. His lips meet yours, diving deep with a scoop of his tongue.

Lost in the bliss of his body weight and mouth, you feel his hand between you, then the head of his cock rubbing over your clit and between your folds. There’s the sweet moment when he presses the tip into you for the first time, slowly sinking as you stretch around him. You moan into his mouth, his kisses deepening as he slides thick and stiff until he’s fully seated.

You feel impossibly full, it’s an incredible sensation that sends pleasure shooting out from where he’s sunk inside you. You wiggle your hips, canting up to his, desperate to take as much of him as you can.

Breathless and panting, Sam’s mouth parts from yours. He reaches up to grab the rung of the headboard for leverage and drops his mouth to the hollow of your throat, kissing sweat soaked skin as he moves, pulling out and thrusting back into you with a force that makes your eyes pop wide.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, reaching for the pillows, the other hand clinging to his arm as his veins bulge with tension.

“You feel so good,” Sam groans as he’s trying his best to make this last. He wants you to remember this first time as intense and incredible, but he’s not sure he can last as long as he’d prefer. You’re so tight around him, like he’s balls deep in hot silk. You’re squirming under him, rubbing your pretty little body up into his like your life depends on it.

He looks down at you, your lip caught between your teeth, naked and straining at the sheets. Sam thinks you twisting under the weight of him is the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. He fucks you hard and slow, pushing all the way in and grinding his hips in slow circles that turns you to into a quivering mess of wet, raw nerves.

His mouth is everywhere, at your mouth, neck, biting at the ball of your shoulder. He moves from those mind blowing grinds to a steady rhythm as the rooms fills with the rolling thunder and the wet, carnal slap of his body into yours. You’re both close, the pumping of his hips faster and harder than before.

“Can I come inside you?” he pants, a growing desperation in his voice.

“Oh God,” you sink your nails into his back, frantic to pull him deeper at the very thought. “Yes, Sam, don’t stop.”

He props himself up on his elbows, his hips snapping fast as your breasts bounce with every thrust. Your nipples are still hard and he can’t help but take one back into his mouth, sucking hard as his hand snakes between your bodies.

His thumb presses over your clit, flicking up and down as he slows his movements. He grinds slow, just like before and you tip over the edge. You come in a glorious crescendo of pulsing nerves and taut muscles, clinging to him like a life raft.

Sam feels it, your body throbbing around his cock as you chant his name. You’re so beautiful, head thrashing to the side, mouth open, lost in the pleasure.

Before your orgasm has completely ended, he’s moving again, quick hard thrusts that make your muscles clench. Sam comes with your name on his tongue, filling you with everything he has, rocking slowly as he empties, twitching inside you. His forehead falls to the crook of your neck as his movements slow to a snail's pace. You rub his back, hands trailing up and down until he’s totally still.

Kissing you, he pulls out then flops onto his back and you lay side by side, silent in the dark as the rain continues to fall in sheets outside the window.

Sam brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing softly. “I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“Me too,” you confess. This has wide ranging implications, none of which you want to think about right now. You’re sated with Sam and pleasure and that’s where you want to stay for the rest of the night. You feel him shift onto his side, his hand over your stomach again, dipping between your legs to feel the wet of your thighs, the product of his hard work and your arousal. “I need to get you into a shower.”

“The power was out…” You glance to his bedside clock which is lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Looks like it came back on,” he sits up.

“Not yet, I want to lie here a little while longer.” When you protest, he moves back to you, pulling you into the crook of his arm where you're both sweaty and overheated. “I just wanna be like this, just for a few minutes.”

“Whatever you want,” he concedes, not five minutes later he’s snoring gently.

But you don’t fall back to sleep. You lie in the dark, as the storm rages outside. You think about Sam and Shadow Hill and wonder if all this will actually last.

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[letterboxd]

How I Letterboxd #2: Dave Chen

In our second of this series, we put Dave Chen in the Letterboxd spotlight. The podcaster, musician and filmmaker is most famous on Letterboxd for his weirdly specific lists. He tells us how he uses the platform, why every film that exists is miraculous, and why we shouldn’t sleep on Not Another Teen Movie.

Hi Dave! How long have you been on Letterboxd? About eight years. I believe I first signed up when it was in beta. I loved (and still love) the interface: how smooth the user flow is for logging/reviewing films, and how beautiful all that movie art looks as it’s organized on the site.

What do you mainly use Letterboxd for? I love reading the reviews on Letterboxd. On a film’s page, the site surfaces many of the most popular reviews and I find it’s a great way to find some quick, witty, and thoughtful comments on something I might be considering watching. But of course, I also love reading and making funny lists. Finally, I’ve heard Letterboxd is great for keeping track of films at a film festival but sadly I haven’t yet attended one since I started using it again.

Do you rate films? Would you consider yourself a generous or harsh rater? I rate films to remind myself how I felt about them at the time I watched. Of course, my opinions on movies change but it’s sometimes interesting to look back and think back to a time when, “Oh right, I did love that movie in the summer of 2019 when I was going through XYZ”. Our feelings about movies can often reflect what’s going on in our lives.

That said, over time, I’ve come to understand that films are miracles. I don’t think I’m the first person to come up with this observation but they are like miniature plays resulting from the collective work of hundreds or thousands of people that have been preserved for your amusement, and you can just play them on demand. Many of them cost only a few dollars. Some are free! Every film that exists is miraculous.

So, despite some of my harsh reviews, I do try to keep that perspective in mind.

You’ve been a member for a while but most of your reviews are recent. What brought you back? We note that you restarted with your third viewing of 1917! I am pretty active on Twitter and I started seeing a bunch of screen-capped reviews go viral there. But to be honest, much of social media can be exhausting to me these days. What I realized recently about Letterboxd was that much of it is free of the negativity. It’s just a bunch of folks who love movies sharing thoughts on those movies, but it also feels like a real community of people. There are filmmakers on there who share their thoughts on films and their favorites, and that’s of course endlessly fascinating (such as Sean Baker). Even the negative reviews can be fun to read. There’s a lot of pithiness and wit on the site, and its design really helps facilitate that.

Okay, take us way back, what was the film that got you hooked on cinema? My first cinematic true loves were the films of John Woo. I’d watched action movies before but I was introduced to John Woo ironically by a counselor at my church youth group! I became dazzled by movies like The Killer and Hard Boiled. It was then that I realized that things I had seen dozens of times (e.g., a shootout in a warehouse) could be elevated by sheer craftsmanship.

What keeps you from sharing your four favorites on your profile? A few reasons. For me personally, it takes months if not years for my thoughts on a film to really crystallize. My relationship with a movie doesn’t end when the credits roll—its ideas and themes and images are often clanging around in the back of my head for months if not years afterwards. As a result, my favorite films of all time change pretty frequently and I didn’t want to have to think about maintaining my four favorites over time.

Michael Caine in Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Children of Men’ (2006).

Is there any film you could say is your all-time number one? If I had to name one though, it’d probably be Children of Men. It combines all my favorite things into one movie: science fiction, action, Michael Caine and a heartfelt message about how humanity has to be kinder to one another if we are to survive the challenging days ahead.

Your most popular lists are weirdly specific and fun (but true!). What are some other weirdly specific lists on Letterboxd that spoke to you? All the lists I like fall into that category. I love it when people make connections that I never otherwise would’ve thought of. To make a funny list, I think you need to be able to juggle extremely specific pattern recognition with a description that makes people feel like they are learning something about the films or their subjects. While the vast majority of the time these are just for fun, sometimes they actually can lead to insights about filmmakers, actors and the specific themes they try to bring to life in their work.

Also, shout out to Thijs Meuwese, who is leading the way on creative lists.

What is your favorite or most useful feature on Letterboxd? The Stats page [generated for all Pro and Patron members] is a beautiful visualization of the history of my film watching. As I continue to build out my watch history, I’m curious to see the trends that will arise.

What’s a movie where you don’t understand why Letterboxd members love or hate it so much? To answer this question, I took a look at some “worst-rated films on Letterboxd” lists and here’s a totally random one for you: the teen romantic comedy parody Not Another Teen Movie. It’s rated a 2.6 and a lot of the humor of this film has aged poorly but there are some amazing gags in here and it features Chris Evans in a performance that will likely be the apex of the comedic phase of his career. My brother and I still quote this movie to each other. Don’t sleep on it.

Chyler Leigh and Chris Evans in ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ (2001).

Your feature film, Stephen Tobolowsky’s one-man show The Primary Instinct, has a Letterboxd page and a pretty solid rating, congrats! How do you feel having that livestream of instant reactions to it? I’m glad that the ratings are decent, but to be honest, I can’t bring myself to look at them! As part of the filmmaking process, I’m totally open to constructive feedback from people I know and trust, but I’m not sure I can handle the same from strangers. Nonetheless, I’m grateful some Letterboxd members have seen fit to watch the film and take the time to rate it! Perhaps if I make more films in the future, I’ll feel better about checking out the reviews for an individual one.

Among your other skills, you are a talented musician. Can you tell us about some of your favorite film scores? Any cello-heavy scores or composers you find particularly influential? While not really cello-specific, the music of Nicholas Britell makes amazing use of strings (see Moonlight and [TV series] Succession). His music is achingly beautiful and is often in rotation in my playlists.

More generally, Hans Zimmer and John Williams are both legends and I’ve always found their work to be very interesting. In recent days, I’ve been quite taken with the work of Daniel Pemberton, whose work on films like King Arthur and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. have a great populsive energy to them. Finally, when I’m into something more moody, atmospheric or modern, I appreciate the work of Cliff Martinez.

Are you self-isolating right now due to Covid-19? Discovered anything great and new to you to pass the time? We hope everything is alright otherwise! Yes, I'm quarantining due to a “stay safe and healthy” order in Washington State right now. Like many people staying at home, I’ve been watching a lot of TV, which includes things like Tiger King, Devs, Better Call Saul, and Dave (the show on Hulu). These are the things that give me comfort and distraction these days.

Jennifer Ehle in Steven Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’ (2011).

What are your go-to comfort movies that you recommend to people at this strange and difficult time? This is a weird recommendation, but I’d say Steven Soderberg’s Contagion is a great choice. Contagion depicts a virus far more deadly than Covid-19, and how it eventually leads to the deterioration of the social order. But it’s also a deeply hopeful movie. You see governments come together to try to figure this thing out. You see the people on the front lines risking their lives to fight the fictional virus and I think it’s a great way to help people understand how courageous and valuable all our medical workers are in times like these. It’s “competence porn” in an era where I think we need to be reminded of what competence looks like.

[Editor’s note: Dave isn’t alone, Contagion has consistently been in our 20 most popular films for the past month.]

When the universe is allowed to go back to the cinema, where do you prefer to sit? As close to the center of the theater as possible, with my eyeline at about halfway up the screen.

What’s in your ‘hall of shame’—the movies you haven’t seen and know Letterboxd will boo at you for missing? Don’t worry, we’ll protect you. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Say Anything. Also Firefly, the Joss Whedon show which I don’t think is on your website anywhere. Many people have been complaining to me about this oversight in my viewership for years so I think it’ll do well if we can list it here.

Which film from the past ten years that went by fairly unloved do you think will be a future classic and you’ll fight to the death for loving? I’m going to cheat a little and list a movie that’s eleven years old: Tony Gilroy’s Duplicity. This movie didn’t do super well at the box office when it was first released and currently has a 2.8 on Letterboxd. But it was one of my top ten films that year. I think Clive Owen and Julia Roberts have great chemistry, but I think the film’s depiction of corporate espionage is outlandish, fun and irresistible. These characters are playing a "triple game" and it’s so much fun to see the layers upon layers of deception that they’re creating, and the cascading impacts they have on their relationship. Also, how can you say no to a movie that has Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson as competing CEOs literally going at each other?

And finally, please name three other Letterboxd members you recommend we follow. I collaborate with Melissa on YouTube/podcast reviews and she is incredibly thoughtful and articulate. I always appreciate Khoi’s thoughtfulness. And Mike Ginn—this guy is hilarious.

You can enjoy more Dave on his website; his YouTube channel; and his podcasts The Slashfilmcast and Culturally Relevant. Dave was photographed by Brandon Hill.