#and then i don’t know how to function when i am genuinely proud of myself and get compliments for it

[starsstuddedsky]

imposter syndrome is so wild actually

[kayx95]

I Hate Being Sober: A Raw Reflection on Addiction and Identity.

Addiction is complex. For most of my life, I didn’t understand how layered it could be. There’s this stereotype that people struggling with addiction are always spiraling, losing control of everything. But here I am, with a relatively content life—things are stable on the outside. Yet, if I’m honest, I’m lost on the inside. This reflection isn’t coming from a place of chaos but from the weird, quiet dissonance that I feel about sobriety and the strange relationship I have with my vices.

The Escape I Crave

There’s a part of me that genuinely hates being sober. It’s not something I love admitting, but it’s true. I’m drawn to the escape that substances give me. The way being high lets me slip away from reality, just for a while, is intoxicating (pun intended). I know the science, the “don’t touch drugs” rhetoric—I've lived through the talks, the detoxes, the advice. But that pull, that need to feel something else, to just hit the mental “off switch” and float, it’s always been there, even when life looks fine from the outside.

Control Over Chaos

Here’s the weird part, though: I have control over certain substances but not others. Cocaine and MDMA are like tools I can wield. I use them recreationally without fear of spiraling. They let me loosen up, but I don’t rely on them to stay functional or “escape” regularly. In a twisted way, I feel almost proud that I don’t let them dominate my life the way addiction can. But when it comes to weed? That’s a whole different story.

Weed, that “harmless” drug that so many people can handle, drags me down in ways coke or MD never could. I don’t just get high; I sink. Weed has a unique way of controlling me, making me lethargic and unmotivated, so I’ve come to avoid it completely. I’m sure anyone from the outside might wonder, “If you’re in control of the hard stuff, why can’t you manage with weed?” I wonder the same thing, and that contradiction has left me wondering about myself.

Lost in the Silence

Oddly, even the highs from the substances I think I am in “control” of, don’t always bring what I’m looking for. Sometimes, they end up making me quiet, almost numb. Instead of feeling connected or euphoric, I find myself turning inward, almost mute. I look like a “baghead,” just lost in my thoughts, and the high ends up feeling empty rather than freeing. I can see how it might look to others—a girl zoned out at a party, searching for a release but ending up in a haze that only makes her feel more disconnected.

Searching for Myself in Sobriety

I’ve realised that, deep down, this tug-of-war with sobriety has to do with something more than just addiction or substance use. It’s a question of identity and self-worth. When I’m sober, I’m left with… well, just me. And that’s terrifying. When I use, it feels like I’m filling a void, shutting off the part of my brain that questions, “Who am I, really?” The high drowns out the nagging doubts, the restlessness, and the discomfort. But when I’m sober, that “lost” feeling surfaces, unfiltered and undeniable.

The Struggle to Find Peace Without the High

The reality is, even though I want to feel at peace in sobriety, I don’t yet. I still have that pull, the lingering desire for escape. But I also know that relying on a high is just numbing me rather than healing me. I’m left with this battle of trying to figure out how to find contentment without drugs while being painfully aware of how hard it is to get there.

Sobriety isn’t just a matter of resisting the urge to use—it’s about facing that deep, uncomfortable silence within. That silence is heavy, but maybe, by confronting it, I’ll eventually find some answers.

Closing Thoughts

For anyone reading this who feels similarly, you’re not alone. Whether you’re in recovery, stuck in addiction, or simply questioning your own relationship with sobriety, know that these feelings of dissonance and confusion are valid. It’s easy to paint addiction in black and white, but for many of us, it’s complicated, layered, and personal. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m here, sober and uncomfortable, trying to face them one step at a time.

[who-cares-man]

Posting this to chase some vague feeling of validation or something man idk

How do productive people function

how do you actually do the same thing for hours or days or years at a time is that a skill you can learn

is it just something you’re born with or

ive got so much shit i wanna do that feels so grand in my head until it comes time to execute

Since execution time is where it becomes clear where you’re lacking

all the skills you don’t have, the habits you haven’t built, the bugs you haven’t squashed

Inspiration is a powerful thing until you get crushed under the weight of your own inadequacy

people say the solution is to practice but whenever i try it feels like i never get any better

and then i look back and realize i just wasn’t practicing near enough

the obvious solution, then, is just to practice more, right?

but the question always boils down to “who am i doing this for”

is it for me? wouldn’t it feel more fulfilling if it was?

my interests are entirely dependent on whatever I experienced most recently

I’m even only writing this because of some tv show I thought was relatable

do i even have any real interests? Like, divorced from the stuff i’ve consumed

I listen to good music and want to make music, then realize i don’t know how and give up

i read a good story and want to write, i look at some good art and want to draw and paint, then realize i can’t and give up

Even the stuff I make that feels good in the moment always inevitably turns to shit when a more discerning eye tries to parse it

There’s always someone better than me

and yeah i know art isn’t supposed to be about comparison, but like

why i can’t i make someone i can be proud of like they can

why can’t i make anything i feel is worthwhile

if i were to divorce myself from my inspirations, ask myself what i can or even want to create when I’m simply making something for me, i don’t think there’s anything left

I genuinely don’t think there’s anything there

inspiration is good but that’s all i have

there’s no creativity, there’s no real passion, there’s no motivation, there’s no consistency, doing it doesn’t even feel good in the moment

just formless, aimless inspiration

the effects people more impressive than me, more driven than me, left on my psyche, that in the end amounts to nothing

i dunno man this shit sucks

i’m not proofreading this i know i’m just gonna end up cringing at myself like always

i’m supposed to be being productive right now and instead i’m whining about some bullshit that doesn’t matter man what is wrong with me

even the physical act of typing this out feels conceited

externalizing feelings is hard

[psychosomatist]

Getting my fucking COVID research together ahead of this goddamn house meeting 🙃 which feels pointless bc my housemates already fucking understand and have heard the science. One of them in particular just doesn’t actually care.

Anyway idk it’s thrown into question the longevity of this housing situation. I’m not sure if I’m overreacting or what. I know I’m partly just extremely activated after everything this week. Idk all I’m saying is that I don’t want any more chronic health conditions or to have my existing ones be worse and I don’t want to give COVID to anyone either. I’m not even saying don’t go anywhere or do anything. My big ask is please wear a fucking mask and don’t have people over who haven’t been cautious. And if there is a surge don’t go to things or at least pick and choose and try to keep it outdoors. Those are pretty minimal asks.

I KNOW it’s a fact of life now and I know I’ll probably have it again. But I think harm reduction is still important. Because even if you don’t get long COVID there is still cumulative damage each time you get it.

It’s hard bc I am someone with a couple disabilities and have had a hard few years of sickness, surgery and injuries. It’s hard to explain the powerlessness, isolation and desperation of that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The toll it takes on your body, mental health, relationships, finances, goals. I also was out on FMLA for like 4 months already this year plus then had COVID and being out for emergency fucking surgery meant I was out for a lot of august. Aside from any effects to my actual body, I straight up financially and professionally can’t afford to get COVID again if I can help it. This housemate has definitely had her own health issues but she has also had a social and financial safety net in a way I haven’t and don’t, and is generally able bodied/more able to consistently function than me.

In addition to the actual risk I feel like fundamentally not respected/valued rn bc of this and it is hard to have the same respect for this housemate that I previously have had. She talks a good talk about like disability acceptance and modification of activities and shit but then I’m like dude I’m not sure this word means what you think it means lol.

Like… I’m not gonna tell you what you can and can’t identify with past a point… but I’m sorry, if you can keep up with housework, two relationships, friendships, working out all the time, gardening, cooking regularly, hobbies, work, going out to events and a bunch of other stuff…… CONSISTENTLY….. we’re not the same 😂

I am usually in a place where I have to budget the energy to do almost everything I do. It is actually pretty rare for me to be able to handle going into the grocery store and I spend a lot of time in bed. I go through phases of not being able to be intimate with my partner. I don’t usually know how physical activity is going to affect me and if it will lead to me then struggling to do basic things the next few days. I had to drop out of school last year to address health issues. I have a shit ton of mental health stuff too that requires a lot of work to stay on top of. And I’m proud of myself because I do that work and I don’t make it anyone else’s problem. My friends know that plans with me are always tentative though and I’ve lost people who that does not work for. Which is sad but ok, bc it’s not for everyone. I’m distant with family for the same reasons.

All this to say I’m genuinely hopeful that maybe things will be better soon with my health and maybe I’ll be able to do more.

She is framing it as her valuing her bodily autonomy and I’m just like ok dude you’re infringing on the bodily autonomy of others that you live with when you choose to go do a bunch of high exposure recreational shit, specifically refusing to mask.

I think what really did it is like… this whole damn year has been so so bad physically and mentally, just one thing after another, the actual worst of my life, then I get covid, then my fucking ovary randomly explodes and dies, and then literally the first week I’ve had in like… I can’t remember how long… where I’m feeling more normal and able to do more after surgery and stuff, and there’s a COVID exposure at my house bc of carelessness and my housemate proceeds to say she will actually be taking LESS precautions going forward.

Idk like COVID is not just about me. But I’m feeling all this between her and I in a very personal way because I thought things were different between us than they apparently are. A friend helped me identify that my anger is partly just intense fear of getting sick again and becoming more disabled.

I’m trying to spend some time focused on my own feelings and honoring the grief and fear and powerlessness of what this year has been like for my body and mind. Because I’ve not really done that much. Instead I’ve just tried to dismiss it and get through it and have seen everything as my own fault or what I deserve or felt selfish for struggling. And that attitude has taken its own toll on me. I’m grateful to be at a point in my life where I can even recognize that I need to do this tbh.

I don’t want to communicate from a place of anger. Not bc I shouldn’t be angry but bc it’s not going to be effective. I’m trying to decide if I should share my very personal feelings about all of this (like what I just wrote) in addition to the science and more basic “hey I don’t want to get this it makes me scared.”

On one hand she is more touchy feely than me. On the other hand I think there is a strong likelihood that this household of mental health workers will try to validate my feelings while not listening to my words and then I might actually lose my shit.

I’m also feeling scared and threatened bc this house was the most stability I’ve had ever as an adult and has been the first place I thought I might actually stay for a few years since I was 24. And now I’m feeling afraid that it might not be. If she doesn’t mask it’s going to change how I spend time in common areas, and limit what kind of time/how much I will spend with her or her partner who is a good friend.

Idk I just seriously might lose my shit if this house meeting turns into a big touchy feely cry fest though because it feels so far from the point. When that happens at house meetings it’s like yeah ok great I’m glad that you feel comfortable expressing yourself but now we are just in the weeds, not addressing the problem. The problem is now your feelings.

Like I feel upset at house meetings sometimes too but that’s not the time or place imo to cry it out. I get resentful when other adults have big emotional displays that require others to help regulate them. It happens to everyone sometimes and no one is perfect. But there’s certain times that it’s like… ok. THIS should not cause this much of a reaction. I do not want to do the work of helping you emotionally regulate about this.

[causenessus]

hi loveliness! (i’m calling you that now because it suits you) HOW ARE U?? good evening afternoon or morning! i hope you’ve been well and i hope you’ve eaten! tomorrow i’m driving back home and it’ll take like two days so my next checkup might be really early or really late (SORRY IN ADVANCE !!) but today i’m going to a concert so ill probably be back home really late and be tired asf LOL but im so excited for it !! i can’t wait to tell you about it tomorrow

IM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR EATING !! it makes me feel happy that i actually have an impact on your life ! ik some days get busy and long but it’s always good to eat and take care of yourself, heal the body and mind!! BAGELS ARE GOOD BUT MAKE SURE YOURE EATING ACTUAL MEALS! which i’m kind of a hypocrite because last night i had instant noodles for “dinner” kind of BUT BUT I HAD LIKE A BIG LATE LUNCH WITH MY FAMILY SO IT DOESNT COUNT !! i would consider that a snack even LOL but youuu! you! (points) make sure you eat actual meals love !! sorry this just reminds me of a story but i remember like one time i was late for school so i skipped breakfast but during class my stomach was like RUMBLING AND I WAS SO EMBARRASSED BECAUSE LIKE the teacher would be yap yap yapping and then suddenly you hear the most preposterous god awful sound (my stomach) and i had to pretend i didn’t wanna die right then and there LOL so definitely definitely eat or you’ll suffer the same fate as me </3(threateningly)(with love)(always with love)

PLS MY EARLY SHIFTS AND WEIRD DOUBLE SHIFTS ARE SO TERRIBLY FUNNY LOL but omg what do you do for work if you don’t mind me asking like do you build frames because THATS SO COOL women in stem moment LOL but omg i hope your finger is okay?? WHY IS SOMETHING HECTIC ALWAYS HAPPENING AT YOUR JOB this is like a total sitcom office type job scenarios right here but but omg omg mango anon on a plane?? flying over to ness?? mango anon and ness meetup?? (I WISH I COULD INSERT PHOTOS BUT WE WOULD BE LIKE THAT ONE MEME THATS LIKE the vibes me and gang bring to the function) no but literally i would definitely just trail around you at work like a dog like i would 100% have no idea what’s going on but i would just smile and nod and be happy just to be there LOL

YOU KNOW WHAT TECH DAYS IS REAL LIKE I WAS ALSO PART OF TECH LOL but i wasn’t like THAT type of tech in the crew i was the sounds person so id be more more background but omg soulmates? twin flames? tech crew gang??? i kinda miss tech days even though it was kind of toxic LOL like i remember my teacher was like ok practice with the cast goes until 6:30 but she kept us until like 8 like IS THAG EVEN LEGAL?? who knows though my high school was definitely not… not it (if you know what i mean)

THE LORE DROP IS CRAZY?? i get what you mean by the attachment issue thing because I GET IT I GET IT but like you’re such a likeable person like IDK YOURE JUST SO SWEET AND GENUINE ITS HARD NOT TO LIKE YOU(sorry if that sounds weird but to me it’s like)(i expect a LOT of people to like you because you radiate good energy and you’re always so sweet) BUT I GET IT AND PLS THE ICK FROM THE ATTACHMENT ISSUES?? i 100% get it because when i notice myself being too attached to someone im like okayyyyy okay mango anon back it up here back it uppp LOL because like i don’t wanna be so reliant on someone else so i always have to remind myself to chill a bit, BUT ID LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT YOUR WORK AND DRAMATIC LOVE LIFE LIKE I LIVE FOR THE ROMCOMS!!

i hope tonight is a better night for you !! i hope it isn’t sucky again because you deserve the best :( I LOVE YOU TOO NESS SORRY I DIDNT KNOW WHERE TO PUT THIS PART BUT I <3 NESS thank u for always taking the time to answer these long long asks LOL but i really enjoy talking to you !! make sure you eat and take care of yourself and have a good day!! xoxoxo

AAAAAA PLEASE I AM CRYING OVER THE NAME /POS THANK YOU SO MUCH <3 i am okay!!! very brain dead and just peroifbbjk but it's okay!! and aa definitely do not worry about missing a few check ins but thank you for telling me so i don't get too sad and miss u without knowing what's going on </33 be safe driving back AND I HOPE YOUR CONCERT GOES WELL AND YOU HAVE LOTS OF FUN!!

BUT AAA thank you thank you </3 unfortunately i literally survived on almond butter bagels today but it was NOT my fault. like today was just not good lmaoaoao i ate breakfast and then drove home to eat lunch (first almond butter bagel) between classes and then had to go to work (i bought a random california roll or something on the way there that ig counts as well!!) but i literally got home at 10 pm and just could not be bothered to cook 😭😭😭 i've just been working this entire week and i work this weekend too so i'm just trying to get by!!!! i will take care of myself though BUT PLEASE THE WAY YOU DESCRIBED YOUR TEACHER YAPPING AND THEN THE PREPOSTEROUS SOUND 😭😭😭 I LAUGHED SO HARD it reminds me of this one time i was forced (idk how else to explain this but just trust me i had to??? LMAO) to eat carrots in my french class....BUT CARROTS ARE SO LOUD BRO I LITERALLY WANTED TO KMS EVERYTIME I BIT INTO THE CARROT LIKE I'M NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE BUT OMG BRO IT WAS A SILENT CLASSROOM AND THEN THERE'S ME CRYING EATING CARROTS LIKE A LITERAL RABBIT

but anway. AAA YES!! WOMEN IN STEM!! yes i build frames sometimes or we get them sent to my work and then i will actually frame things and cut glass and just put that all together it's very fun!! i've framed things like a real cool pixies poster, cool art, confiscated prison shanks, someone tried to get us to frame black coral (which it is highly illegal to be in possession of) so yk!!! maybe it's just a curse at my workplace!! i have NO idea wtf is wrong with my workplace but we could DEFINITELY BE A SITCOM SHOW LMAOO AND AAA OMG YES NESS AND MANGO ANON MEETUP!!! I WOULD LITERALLY CRY /POS AND JUMP WITH JOY PLEASE AND LITERALLY OMG YOU DID TECH TOO??????? AND YOU WERE SODIFIUHWLJBEKJRFLEPRIO;GWENK (you were sound except i keyboard smashed halfway through)

MANGO ANON. WE WERE MEANT TO BE. LITERAL SOULMATES I TELL YOU!!!! BC I MEAN IG IDK HOW OTHER DEPARTMENTS ARE BUT LIKE I FEEL LIKE YOU ALWAYS HAVE A LIGHT KID - SOUND KID DUO YK?????? AND THAT'S YOU AND ME AAAA THAT'S LITERALLY SO COOL THOUGH I ADMIRE SOUND PEOPLE SO MUCH BECAUSE IT'S JUST TOO MANY CABLES AND THINGS FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF I NEVER UNDERSTOOD IT 😭😭 but yes it is also such a toxic and dramatic environment like ALL the time okay another lore drop my junior year i was literally fighting for my life because basically i had just been passed the torch down from our goddess light board op senior (so i was now in charge of everything regarding lights and basically the light board op) BUT this sophomore with a superiority complex also wanted the job and would literally fight me for it like he DEMANDED to be head of lights once for this student directed play and he had been asked to do the show before me so he got first pick and i was like "i mean okay chill idrc" but the bad thing is he just did not know what he was doing 😭 and i tried to be nice and be like "hey. we can split the job. if you want to be board op for the play and musical that's chill. i'll do it for the other play." AND IDK WHY I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE THE ENTIRE DEPARTMENT HATED HIM AND LIKE I TOLD MY TECH DIRECTOR THE PLAN AND HE WAS LIKE "HELL NO I AM NOT LETTING THAT KID OPERATE THE BOARD YOU'RE DOING THAT" so i ended up being board op...the entire year which i don't feel bad about!! but that was like the biggest drama moment of my life and i'm still not over it i am typing in passionate rage rn can u tell /hj

BUT AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭 I REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE IT YOU'RE SO SWEET!! i always attract weird men unfortunately...i will spill this all to u mango anon do not worry your pretty head <3 maybe we'll start with skater boy tm (imagine i subscripted that i'm too lazy rn) or the boy who thought i liked him and asked me to homecoming....BUT YOU'RE LITERALLY SO SWEET AND CARING TOO I KNOW THAT YOU ARE LOVED BY SO MANY AS WELL!!! and honestly lots of people suck </3 so if they DON'T love you?? well that's an easy fix i'll just beat the life out of them <3 (said with love. for u. not those people. i promise i'm nice!!!)

AND THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SENDING THESE LONG ASKS!! AND READING MY EVEN LONGER ANSWERS <3 tonight was okay!!! i hope you had a good day <3 and talking to you has DEFINITELY made it better so thank you and i love you so much as always mango anon <3 PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!! AND EAT AND DRINK LOTS OF WATER AND I HOPE YOU DON'T FEEL TOO SICK AS YOU DRIVE BACK HOME!!

[a230ventblog]

things i need to say before i feel like i can function and speak to that Person again

note that my own parents are actually fine im just hyperfixating on that Person’s childhood trauma aight. and i need a place to put the weird feelings i have absorbed that i know would hurt them to know they are the reason i feel this way and that just in general aren’t really,, valid isn’t the right word but like. the feelibgs i have that i know not to act on

i understand it pretty well rationally and i understand that like. a world where we didnt have family or something similar to raise children in would be dystopian but emotionally it doesnt fuckin compute. you are born already like. fucking indebted to a few people and while it’s absolutely possible to estrange yourself in most cases you’re going to have some tie to them forever? it’s much harder to cut off. and if you estrange yourself there are going to be people who think you owe a debt to them.

when i talk to that Person the child characters they create usually get the burden of unconditional love towards their parents placed on them while the parents (which i am always the one writing) just. don’t. and the existence of unconditional love bothers me too. rationally i know it’s good for development but it’s also like the ultimate participation trophy? i guess i’ve been treated so well i can’t enjoy it anymore

the seemingly unbreakable bond between parent and child is the one thing that i can make myself cry about without any outside intervention? it’s the ultimate unfairness, on both ends if the parent didn’t want the child either. i want to burn down montréal and maybe i’ll get that Person’s father too, though they told me through the character who they gave most of their trauma to that they’d still be sad if he died. fuck that i’m cauterizing this tie for my own comfort. maybe you’d be so upset by what i did that you’ll leave me too and take out the bits of yourself you left in me and i can move onto the next person’s pain. you won’t fuck yourself because you’re ace, and neither should have your parents, and we could’ve avoided this whole thing in the first place. i have your character’s name cut into my side where they used to cut themself with broken glass (because of their father, mind you) because if we ever meet in real life i want you to look at yourself and realize this stupid fucking fourteen year old has taken it upon herself to continue the cycle you got out of. i hope you’re proud of yourself. genuinely. i won’t feel bad if you’re proud of yourself. i don’t want you to hurt at all again, how many fanfiction writers can say they really left a physical mark on the reader? maybe all i am on this transformation is your next project. i love you to the pieces that i wish you would put all of yourself into breaking me into, instead of staying the hammer when i finally tell you to stop talking about this.

okay that should be enough to speak to them normally again.

i’m goinf to go destroy a william wanker book.

[plantley]

future bf standards

would happily chop firewood for me. like if i’m just bored and wanna play with fire, or am cold, or want s’mores

southern and outdoorsy

preferably gone to therapy or would be willing to

good relationship with mom

will go camping with me

will take me dancing

notices the little things. can pick up on small signs of when i’m getting to a bad place or when i’m in a good place

actually gets me flowers, or just pick me some

isn’t an alcoholic

tattooed

able and willing to work through problems and not just call it quits

sense of stability and has some idea of a plan or ambition

wants a simple happy life, not hustle obsessed. just wants to build a sanctuary together

wants animals, maybe would be down to have a plot of land with like chickens and stuff

supportive of my art

be able to imagine a future together. i’m tired and would really like the next guy i date to ideal be like the real deal

is able to understand/been through dark shit and be able to have real talks about it but also be able to joke about it

wouldn’t leave me if my cancer comes back or i get sick again. statistically, it’s super common as a woman to be cheated on or left if you get ill. but also i need to be able to trust that i’m not a burden and they feel forced to stay with me out of pity

doesn’t make me feel like a burden

doesn’t mentally, emotionally, or physically abuse me

is good at back and forth communication. will not just shut down and block me out

gets along with my family and wants me to be involved with his

takes me out on proper planned dates, not only just hanging out and watching tv or having dinner

interdependence but not codependent. like we can lean on each other and make each other better but are still independent and individual people who can function without each other

not clingy/possessive, but makes be feel like theirs. makes me know i’m theirs and they’re mine

interested in each others hobbies and wants to be involved

is able to talk about their feelings and emotions openly

let’s me know if there is a problem or something we need to to talk about. doesn’t just bottle it up until it explodes

doesn’t make me feel bad for feeling things strongly or make me feel like i need to tone myself down and make myself smaller

makes me feel confident in my skin and not feel compared to other girls

makes me truly feel loved

will get excited about things with me. like if i’m really excited about an upcoming meteor shower or something lame, they’ll be excited with me, even if it’s not particularly something they care about but they care because i care

will go to concerts and see bands with me

is sentimental and remembers small moments that mean a lot

wants to put in the effort and so cute mushy things. like wants to do picnic dates or paint nights and cheesy things

uses nicknames and terms of endearment. i’ve never had a bf call me love, sweetheart, babe, honey. sweetie, dear, etc and i think it’s so precious

wants to show me off and is proud of me

isn’t a cheater

loyal. in a romantic relationship but also just in life. loyal to friends and people they love and keep their word when they say something

not long distance

can deal with my adhd, so like will go on walks with me and follow my stream of thoughts and bounce back and forth with me

wants to travel and do road trips and adventures

down for spontaneous plans, like pulling off at a flea market or new hiking trail on a whim as we pass it

makes me feel safe and i can tell them what i’m genuinely feeling. i have a hard time opening up and truly letting myself be venerable, because being venerable leaves you open to being hurt

someone i feel secure in the relationship with. that i don’t have to second guess how they feel about me or worry that they’re going to leave me or that i’m not enough for them

comfortable with the day to day mundane things together. like able to doing separate things in the same room and feel at peace being together. like one of us cooking in the kitchen and the other doing something on the computer, and us being happy in the same space

will come to art events with me and clean up nicely

precious forms of intimacy, like kisses on the cheek and forehead, twirling me around, holding my hand or thigh, etc

is able to apologize when needed

works together against the problem, not against each other

doesn’t yell or raise their voice in anger

able to joke and tease each other

active/likes to workout. being big strong man who can throw me around would be nice

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite. 

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told. 

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.  

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest. 

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god. 

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.  

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.  

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.  

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say. 

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be. 

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

[queernuck]

The Cleveland Browns made the playoffs. The Islanders made the Eastern Conference Finals.

And that’s enough for me.

So long, so long I have been living like this, pretending that I want to keep on living, that life feels worthwhile, that I don’t want to kill myself. Suicide is for cowards but ive been chickening out for a whole decade, to the point where getting on the subway was itself something that involved convincing myself not to jump in front of it. I remember once while working in the city, I watched and waited as two trains came in and left, trying to get the energy to jump in front of them. I had decided, if I couldn’t do it by the time a second train came and went, I would go to work and save it for another day. I came very close, my legs tense like a linebacker on 4th & Goal, but I didn’t do it. Maybe it would be better if I had, I would have saved not only myself but a lot of other people a lot of pain and suffering. I’ve been dealing with feeling suicidal for a decade, an entire ten years, and made it through. And for what? I lost a retail job at minimum wage, I’ve seen the Giants go from two-time Super Bowl kingslayers to a team that relied on the Eagles for a playoff berth, I got to see Evangelion only for the final Rebuild film to be infinitely delayed, I have a useless non-degree that allows me to eloquently describe how the Democrats and Republicans alike are driving this stolen land to Fascism while sycophants tell me Vote Blue No Matter Who. I’m so tired, I’m not even the person people think me to be, since if I were, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

My paychecks, as hard-earned as they were, never seemed to be mine in any real sense, and it made me so frustrated that something in me broke at the beginning of this year. I made some mistakes, some very stupid ones, and got myself fired. I took money from and distorted the inventory of my store to get what amounted to pocket money, less than two paychecks. I was tempted because I feel so powerless, so much like nothing I could ever say or do matters, and so I decided to lash out against a place that mattered to me, against people I cared about deeply. Chain stores, corporations, all of those things are not really high on my list of things to care about. Barnes & Noble pushed out local booksellers years ago, an irony not lost on me whenever our own competition with Amazon was made apparent. We were reaping what we had sown. But what always interested on top of this irony was how symbolic these things could be to people, how much we figured into so may memories for so many. The Manga Aisle at Barnes & Noble is a staple of 2006 scene culture, a way that kids without the pocket money to afford the newest volume of Bleach it Naruto could keep up before scams became widely available. How the store was a place where people studying for standardized tests could use the test prep guides to try and get ready for the eugenic ritual of the standardized test. And just how much a chain bookstore became a substitute, socially, for the now-absent local bookstore. We bear the guilt for that, but at the same time we were still selling books, giving people a place to get coffee and sit and read and talk, in ways that libraries may not be able to. We certainly can never replace a library, given just what a library does for people. But we did do a lot of good all the same. Before it closed, some of my fondest memories came when I was the exact sort of annoying teenage customer I grew to hate, hanging out at the Columbus Circle Borders. Working at Barnes & Noble was tiring, dehumanizing, difficult, made me feel like I would never measure up to the authors we sold, the people books were written about, that I was a failure. And I am, as my death shows. But it also made me a part of something I was proud of. And that Above & Beyond pin I earned is in my jacket still, a reminder of something.

That something was shown in so many of the coworkers I had, who were incredible in so many ways. I feel awful for what I did, I genuinely do, because of how it may have hurt people who thought so kindly of me, people who deserve so much good. I wish I had the ability to address each of them individually but this decision was hastily made, and i have a feeling it will show in the things I miss in this note. Audra, your help in finding me a way to use the company policies to my advantage as a worker was something that gave me faith even after having seen the despicable firings and cuts the company went through. Linda, I can’t quite square the circle here given my actions, but I want to say your disappointment broke my heart and that while I will not be the one who shows it, your reassurance that everyone makes mistakes was welcome.

To my (former) fellow booksellers at Store 2216, all of my love and my sincerest apologies. You all have so much good in you, your willingness to listen to my ADHD-fueled rants and to discuss so many things with an incredible frankness was always impressive, in addition to part of what I loved about all of you. I want you all to be happy, and the kinship I felt with you was a vital part of what kept me going. It was tough, as you all know. But at times, it almost felt worth it.

The same is true of my CTY friends: it was a weird, magical place that frankly, a lot of us idealized for far too long and which sk many of us eventually outgrew without being able to let go of. And that was tough, that was something we had a great deal of difficulty understanding, that what helped us once was not always going to be helping us, was not always what we needed. But in eventually finding that, we found solace, we realized how life as a whole functions and just what it is that we can take from places like it.

To my other family, my Cleo family, I know I haven’t been terribly active lately, but I can never, ever thank you enough for the belonging you gave me. I have never felt anywhere as welcoming as Cleo. As warm as Cleo (even as we struggled to pay for the oil bill) was. As kind and understanding. As tolerant. As questioning and inquisitive into what that tolerance meant to us. I am thankful, eternally, for what you all did for me. The incredible experiences I had as a Cleo make me proud of what the organization can represent, and one of my dying wishes is that the organization continues to reach out to marginalized communities on Trinity’s campus. There is much work to be done in making sure abusers cannot hide in our family, but I trust you all to do that work. Tucker Carlson is a Trinity grad and we must embody the opposite of what he stands for, no matter how difficult it may be. I could go on about how this means opposing liberals and Liberalism/Neo—Liberalism due to the truth of tolerance resulting in a Popper-esque Paradox of Tolerance that implies Popper is a worthwhile philosopher, but that’s another issue.

To my friends on that Blue Hellsite, tumblr, you made a continual presence worth it, even with all of the bullshit this place brings. It’s the reason I read so much Foucault, Derrida, Deleuze & Guattari, read Žižek against himself, and so on and so on, and the value of that to me can never be overstated. I learned so much from the ways in which I learned to analyze the world, and that in turn became a huge inspiration for why I should try to do what I could to make the world closer to a place of revolution, one where we could perhaps eke out a living for one another. I loved how much I could be an unrepentant nerd and still love hockey on there, and while the

NHL fans on tumblr are incredibly annoying,

I can deal with that compared to the racism of most hockey fans.

Mom, Dad? I just couldn’t live with you any longer. I’m so sorry.

Grandma, I love you.

And the things I leave behind? Donate what can be donated. Hats, please auction, or at least offer to other HatHeads at a reasonable price. I had some nice ones. As for assorted albums, clothing, and other things, sell them and donate to a Harm Reduction organization, or organizations that advocate for PWUD in a radical fashion. WE DESERVE AUTONOMY!

I am a victim of the War on Drugs. Sobriety was always hellish to me, and I could never take it. I want people to be able to live how they want, to see sobriety and being on drugs as equally valuable states, to see the two as no different from one another.

Abolish all gun laws

End the War on Terror

Decriminalize and legalize all drugs, sobriety is what killed me.

I love all of you.

LET’S GO ISLANDERS!

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Nickèd Names

Yuu finally learns who her funny Horned Boy is. This one takes place just after the ghost wedding. Content warning for coarse language and frank talk of bodily functions.

As always, check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, and don’t be afeared to send me a message if you enjoyed something!

~*~*~*~

"You're finally back in class?"

You nodded at Deuce. "Stopped pissing blood every time I sneezed, so I'm back."

There's much to be said for kissing pretty ghost girls, but the main drawback is that when you do, you immediately, catastrophically hemorrhage from every pore as all your organs fail, and even with magical healing, you're still bedridden for a week. You wouldn't be doing that again. Maybe. Eliza was very cute.

"You're back. Excellent." Trein dropped a stack of papers in front of you. "Here's the work you missed."

You blinked up at him in horror. "Professor, I nearly died."

He stared back, face impassive. "You nearly did. And I'm fond of your work ethic. That's why you get this instead of a fail."

"... I'll take that."

~*~*~*~

It's after dark, so he should be along any time now. You set your phone down and wait.

True to form, your funny horned boy is soon sitting on the railing of your balcony, smiling at you. "You're all better now?"

"Better-ish." You might never get to stop taking those pills and supplements. "Why didn't you come by the room?"

"You don't know that I didn't. You slept a fair deal."

"Rude. Let's walk."

~*~*~*~

You're too tired to try the woods, so you're both slowly picking your way around the dorm grounds, your pretty horned boy keeping an eye that you don't trip. You could count the times he's touched you on one hand; when you asked, he said he didn't want to be rude. Perhaps he wasn't as fond of you as he seemed.

A buzz from your phone, Ortho wanted a symptoms check-in. You tapped back that you're fine, and your boy peered over your shoulder, leaning this way and that. Curiosity took the better of you.

"... You do know what a phone is, right?"

He chuckled. "Of course I do, my child of man. Not all technology is unknown in my homeland."

"Do you have one? I can give you my number."

He shook his head. "After I broke my last one, we decided it really wasn't necessary."

"You can replace them, you know."

"It was my... fifth?" He started counting on his hands. "No, sixth. They're delicate. After going through that many in as many weeks, we simply canceled the contract."

Your eyebrows went up through no effort of your own. "Jesus, you have the dropsies that bad?"

"The what?"

"Dropsies.” You mimed opening your hand, dropping something. “You dropped them."

"The first one went that way. Most simply shattered when I pressed the screen too hard, and one Lilia threw against a wall."

You decided to ask Lilia how he know your boy later. "Why'd he do that?"

"I tried to download a game and got, in his words, 'so many viruses.' " He seemed rather proud of himself. "They clearly weren't bad ones, I did not cough once."

"No, honey, that's not how that-" Even in the gloom, you saw he'd turned an alarming shade of red, and you backtracked. "Uh, you want to see anything on mine? I have pictures."

"Only if you don't hand me it."

~*~*~*~

"So there is a camera on this?"

"Yeah, most phones have them. Watch." You opened the camera, and hit the button so that the front camera was on, reflecting your spotty face and a wide-eyed faerie boy behind you. "This one's for selfies."

He made a face of pure confusion, and you hit the button to capture it, and showed him.

"Could you... not do that again? It's not proper." 

"You know it doesn't steal your soul, right?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but again, sheer confusion stopped him until he gathered himself. "You always surprise me. But no, it's that... portraits are a formal thing. You shouldn't share that."

You blinked up at him with your best, sweetest face. "Is this just because you don't want me to ask around for your proper name with it?"

he stopped, blinked, inclined his head. "That didn't occur to me until now, but yes."

"I'll keep it to myself, I promise," you lied, and he believed you, and therefore did not hex your phone when he returned you to your room.

~*~*~*~

It was only partially a lie; you didn't actually show it to anyone. You simply set the picture of you both as your lockscreen, so you could enjoy it anytime. And this was what got Ace staring at your phone like it started sprouting feathers and clucking.

"Why do you have a picture of yourself with Malleus Draconia?"

Ah, so that’s it, you thought to yourself. "Who? That's my Horny Boy."

"what"

"Yeah, he said I could call him whatever I wanted because names are special and he's kind of a dumbass and let me."

Ace put an arm around your shoulder. "Yuu, I need to tell you why that is the second stupidest thing you've done in your life."

~*~*~*~

"He's not scary. You're clearly mistaken."

Ace flailed, halfway between exasperation and disbelief. "He's the strongest magic user in the school! Fifth strongest in the world! He is the Prince of Thorns and a big scary dragon and could kill you in the blink of an eye."

You frowned at him. "He is a great big loser who likes gargoyles and has zero clue about anything, ever. Have you ever actually talked to him?"

Ace gave you his best are-you-fucking-stupid-or-something face. "Of course not. He's also a third year, on top of everything else. I don't want to get turned into a rose bush or something."

"He's actually very easy to talk to. Probably because everyone's too scared to talk to him."You paused. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Nope!" Ace pulled you back in to your seat. "What if you curses you because you know his real name?"

"I highly doubt that. Let me go, Ace."

He smirked at you. "If you wanna go so bad then pull away." 

"You know I can't do that, Ace." You're still too weak from your sickroom stay. "If you want me to stay, fine."

So you sat on his lap with a heavy flop, and watched him wince in pain. Even with all the weight lost from your illness, you're still too heavy for him. But he, stubborn brat, still gripped your arm and glared at you.

A battle of wills, one overweight brat and one stubborn weakling, rapidly losing sensation in his legs. "You're not going. I can stay here all day. You'll get bored before I do."

He's not wrong, but you have a secret weapon. "Keep me here and I'll fart on you."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "You can not fart on command."

You leaned over. "You don't know that. For all you know I had cabbage rolls for lunch and it's been brewing all day. You really wanna try me, Trappola?"

He did not want to try you, and, let you go with a grunt of disgust. "If you die, it's not my fault!"

"I'm not gonna die!"

"You said that about the ghost princess!"

"Is everyone going to hold that against me now?"

"YES!"

~*~*~*~

You found your horned boy in a pissing match with Kingscholar, and you decided to be as petty and obnoxious as possible. Walking up behind him - Malleus, what a pretty, pretty name for a witch boy - You simply wrapped your arms around his middle and squeezed, while he froze in place posed like a cowboy about to draw.

Leona started snickering. "Really? You get that few hugs in your life?"

"Shush." You peered under Malleus's arm, while he looked down at you. "Malleus? Can we talk a moment?"

Interesting. He could turn even paler than what he was.

~*~*~*~

"So the entire reason you didn't share who you were is that you thought I wouldn't want to hang out any more."

He nodded. "Most people are afraid of who I am. And you have generally unkind things to say about monarchies, as it is. I did not think you would take the prince thing kindly."

"Well." You shrugged. "Now I know why you kept taking notes whenever I started on that."

"You have many interesting things to say about it!" He brightened considerably. "I couldn't have a shift to elections within my lifetime, obviously, but much of it would be great to try implementing."

"Wouldn't your big scary grandma have anything to say about that?"

His smile was thin, but genuine. "She has much to say on most topics. But, if she did not want me to be exposed to new ideas, she could have simply kept me at home and continued with my private tutors."

You couldn't argue with that. "One last thing, Malleus."

He tilted his head slightly, face faintly pink. How could anyone be scared of him? He's so adorable it's enough to make you sick.

"I don't think I'll call you Horned Boy anymore, now that I know your more proper name."

He looked... disappointed, and you continued. "Mal's a little better for a nickname, yeah? Less of a mouthful."

He made a small noise, considering, before brightening. "Anything that you call me is perfection, my friend."

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

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[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing. 

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company. 

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

 “Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked. 

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

 “Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

 “You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

 “I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again. 

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

 “If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants. 

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest. 

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has. 

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is… 

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”

[heretherebedork]

I am here to hurt myself by watching WBL2. I know it ends in a reward but the beginning is nothing but agony and why I haven't watched it before. I am already in pain just from watching any tiny amount of pain of these boys.

lol I am literally refering to this as my day of atonement.

... I did make a very nice Rosh Hashanah post but that doesn't make me particularly religious, tbh. Cultural Judaism, yo.

Also, pain. Hi pain.

Ugh, I avoided this pain for so long. Now I'm here for it. One post. I'm only making this one post. @absolutebl I'm doing it! I know how much you love this, though.

Oh, fuck it, if I'm trying to limit all my rambling to one post I might as well read more it. I ramble so much.

Ep 1:

Oh look pain. Pain. And more pain. Yup. Yup. I hate this kind of plot even if I know it resolves well. At least it's not cheating but STILL hi dying. Shu Yi is a darling boy who deserved better than five years of nothing for any reason and Gao Shi De should have been better than that. Even knowing it ends well doesn't make this easier. dgkldf GODDAMN IT SELF. Just watch the show and stop being a baby about emotional pain.

Awww, the matching ties! I've seen that post a dozen times and love it every time and it's good to see.

The fucking way Gao Shi De just tries to walk back into his life without a second word or hesitation or thought makes me SO DAMN TWITCHY. Poor Shu Yi. Also, Gao Shi De deserves every punch and slap and uuughhh this show was designed to hurt me. I HATE relationships falling apart. Absolutely my least favorite trope/plot point of practically all time.I hate it I hate iiiit I hate it so muuuuuch.

I mean, damn, the acting here is amazing beyond words, obviously. But that just makes it hurt more. Especially Shu Yi's pain that he's put behind so much anger and work just to keep himself functional and it's damn gorgeous DAMNit.

Ep 2:

Darling Shu Yi deserved so much better. Even though Gao Shi De wasn't cheating on him, he deserved better than the silence and disappearance and he deserves the goddamn world. Ugh literally like a minute into the episode and already there is so much pain. I know they end up happy but I almost want to just tell Shu Yi to tell Gao Shi De to fuck off forever.

Nope, Gao Shi De, you deserve the pain. Shu Yi does't, you do, your upset doesn't get me upset. Shu Yi's pain is the only one I regret in this show. But, seriously, doing all this in front of the whole company is such a bastard move in his part honestly. Poor Shu Yi, seriously.

I do love my tiny obviously favorite character, though, and his tiny inability to sit and his tiny double hands for everything and I adore him beyond measure.

Ugh, Shu Yi choosing to fake the return of trust and friendship and love and I am proud of him for doing that and no, I don't care, Gao Shi De deserves it. I mean, it's not a good or healthy choice but, you know what, I'm okay with that.

But seriously. Poor Shu Yi. Has to deal with being ghosted and then Gao Shi De's return and then an extremely drunk ex crying on him when he's just trying to go to work... at midnight, okay, maybe not healthy either.

Ep 3:

Oh, Gao Shi De. You're an idiot. I mean that... only with a tiny bit of affection and mostly with me rolling my eyes. Making a promise to his dad wasn't bright of you. I mean, seriously, 5 years without contacting him, telling him what happened and on the condition that Shu Yi doesn't try to move on in five years of being completely ghosted. That's just dumb to an astonishingly level of dumb.

Ugh, poor Shu Yi. Your dad and your ex are both idiots and they deserve to get away from you just like you want. Seriously. You poor young man. You deserved so much better from the people you love.

But seriously fuck Gao Shi De and Shu Yi's dad. You're both idiots who don't deserve him. Especially his dad. But also especially Gao Shi De. Seriously. This is why we talk to people, damnit. Poor Shu Yi.

Why, yes, that's my main take away from this show. Shu Yi deserved so much better. Gao Shi De's need to constantly solve everything by himself is the biggest problem in the show, oy vey.

OF COURSE he wants to go back to that time. He was loved and loved and trusted you and happy and comfortable and who wouldn't want to go back to that?

Yu Zhen Xuan is my darling, obviously, and Pei Shou Yi's wanting to take care of him but also to stay away from him for his own sake. Oh, boys.

Ep 4:

I know they get better at some point. I really do. Shu Yi is still breaking my heart, though. I just want to see the poor darling smile and not in a flashback.

Oh, Shu Yi. You deserve the world, seriously. I mean, I'm glad you've managed to come back around to trying to believe in Gao Shi De. I really am. But man he doesn't deserve it. But also ugh, this embrace, utterly fantastic. Darling Shu Yi is finally smiling!

And poor Yu Zhen Xuan trying to ask about Pei Shou Yi so deseperately and being denied everything... ugh, I love him so much. But mostly just Yu Zhen Xuan wanting that connection so badly but always, again and again, denied and I just want to comfort him so badly. Yes, he's coming to you but, I mean, what is friendship but going to other people for comfort? Awww, the two ramens. The BABY.

But also darling Shu Yi is finally smiling and Gao Shi De does bring him comfort and love and they're genuinely good to and for each other, at least, once they're together. Now they just need to actually talk to each other about what happened.

The simultaneous "DAD" was gorgeous. Okay, that was really good.

Ep 5:

Ah, my long awaited darling boy's backstory that I know and love. The tiny panic and fear and the way he jumps and fights back at the tiniest thing... I love this feral teenager SO MUCH and then he grows up into a CTO for a major company and it's even better.

Plus, Pei Shou Yi looking for him after telling him not to come back because the mug got returned? Ugh, heartbreaking but in like a sad, small kind of way.

And the darling CEOs teasing each other in front of their employees while also in suits and being uplifting and good at supporting them? A+ how does one go about getting bosses like that? Also, how Shu Yi looks at Gao Shi De when he's being a good boss? Also A+.

Okay, yes, they're adorable and tiny and the piggyback ride while also in suits and looking fine is simple the best of the best and Gao Shi De taking care of Shu Yi while also confronting his father is frankly amazing. Oh, darling boys.

Gao Shi De, he already admitted that he did this entirely to trick you and Shu Yi is perfectly willing to take a stand against his father. Stop trying to win him over. Let Shu Yi handle his family. His dad's an idiot and he's not gonna listen to you.

Ep 6:

More backstory for my darling feral teenager and the doctor who took care of him at his lowest. I love them both so much. I wish they'd gotten more of a story but I'm not entirely sure I want a third season about them either.

Portable boyfriend! Well! Portable boy... friend...

Also, Shu Yi and Gao Shi De, you have no right to talk about them not communicating, seriously boys, love you to death but seriously communication... actually, honestly, Shu Yi is great at communication. He can criticize them. Gao Shi De has no right.

Pei Shou Yi, seriously, you say these things about not having any emotion but you also admit that you knew he evoked a response from you. You definitely remembered and had feelings about him when you were separated. I mean, you even saved the ramen that was his favorite. You looked for him. I know it's scary but that's okay.

Shu Yi is just so adorable about meeting the in-laws and being all awkward and adorable and it's beyond cute and then the talk about his dad and family and they're just adorable and domestic and sweet and how dare they.

Literally, Shu Yi is the best person in the world and the two people who love him most can learn a lot from him.

Ugh, Yu Zhen Xuan is my baby and I love him so much and he's just doing his best to be his best and he wants to love and be loved but he's trying so hard and I love him so much. He's just such a darling and he also deserves the world and to be loved just as he loves.

And we had to have another pool kiss, of course, what darlings.

Pei Shou Yei: I don't experience emotions... except the ones involved in protect Yu Zhen Xuan because those aren't emotions, those are just natural urges and don't count.

Awww, proposals are always adorable and sweet.

I did it! I've finally watched the whole thing, between dramacool and dailymotion I've managed to watch this show. Yay for me!

[sesamestreep]

Fanfiction writing asks: 8, 36, 42, 68, 72!

#8: Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

With the right person, Microsoft PowerPoint can be its own love language.

#36: What fic are you proudest of?

okay, not to be super self-important or whatever, but i think it would have to be stack the deck with wild cards. maybe i am just thinking about it because of the current clusterfuck in the us over roe v. wade, but i’m genuinely proud to have written a story that casts abortion in a neutral/positive light (not that i’m conflating writing my little story with political action or anything!!) and i had so many wonderful conversations about that with people in the comments and i felt that it came out exactly the way i wanted it to. it also was my first experience with writing multi-chapter fic and i posted all of it the week of my birthday and it was an amazing experience overall. i just think that that story is emblematic of the kind of writer i want to be all the time.

#42: What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

this feels like cheating because i take all of my titles from song lyrics, so i don’t really come up with them, but i guess if i had to choose it would be how many acres, how much light, which gets its title from the song “Mushaboom” by Feist. i very rarely pick a title for a fic and stick with it (i usually go through three to five ideas for every single one before just giving up and picking the most recent idea when it’s time to publish), but for this one i was determined to finish the fic because i knew i wanted to use that specific lyric as the title. that song means so much to me, with its message of looking forward to all the joys that will come your way in the future even if they're not here yet, and i was delighted to have an excuse to use it for something. i also just think it suits that fic perfectly.

#68: Are there any fics that influenced you to write the way you do?

i mean, i’ve read so many great fics in my life, across like hundreds of fandoms, lots of which have inspired me or informed my writing in some way, but to avoid writing the longest answer possible, i’ll stick with just one example. basically anything @kaikamahine has ever written has made me want to be a better writer, but i reference maisie makes a deal constantly. it’s outsider POV, which is so hard to write (i still haven’t gotten up the courage to try it myself) and elizabeth does it so so well that i honestly wanted to just keep hanging out with her OCs at the end, forget about captain america and [reads smudged ink on hand]…. binky?? is that his name?? the way she writes is so lyrical that her prose feels like poetry, it’s so economical and gut-punchy. it makes me want to take more risks when i write and go for the imagery when it feels right and just trust the readers to follow, which i think is good advice for writers. also her fic probability engine was so good that i spent a whole week trying to think of a comment i could leave to express how much i loved it and how much it kicked my ass and instead i would just get too emotional about it all over again and need to sit down and i just never actually left a comment (sorry, elizabeth!!) …this is the short answer to this question, if you can believe that.

#72: What’s your favorite writing compliment you’ve gotten?

someone once commented on stack the deck (linked above) that they’d read each of the chapters (which i was posting daily) as they got ready to go back to college and that it had helped distract them and kept them from getting stressed out, and that has always stuck with me. i think the best we can hope for of the things we make and choose to share with others is that they can function as a metaphorical hand reaching out to provide comfort or solidarity or even just recognition. my reach in this space (and in the world in general) feels/is very small but with that comment, that person let me know that it was enough to reach them, and to be there for them when they needed someone, even in some small way. that made me so happy and it still cheers me up to think about now.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Genneya Walton, #blackAF

Genneya Walton came to acting through a passion for dance and performance. Once on screen, she starred as Bryden Bandweth on Project Mc², as well as taking on roles in The Resident, 911, Criminal Minds, School of Rock, and Extent. Up next, Genneya will be playing the role of Chloe Barris, daughter to Rashida Jones and Kenya Barris, in his new mockumentary #blackAF. Loosely inspired by Barris’ irreverent and honest approach to parenting, relationships, race, and culture, #blackAF uncovers the messy and often hilarious world of the fictionalized Barris family. We had the opportunity to chat to Genneya about her character on the show, experiences on set, and what it means to be a young woman of color in the world of film and television. Check it out:

You wake up tomorrow as the character you play. What do you do first? 

If I were to wake up as Chloe, I would freak out first but I think that’s a given. Secondly, I’d go through her closet and try everything on because her style is incredible and I can only imagine what her full wardrobe looks like. 

In #blackAF, you have a lot of siblings. Do you have a large family IRL? If so, were there any similarities to your rapport with your on-set family? If no, did the experience make you glad or sad you don’t? 

In real life I only have one older sister -- far less than the 5 siblings I have on the show! My parents' style of raising kids is not at all the same as Kenya and Joya’s, so I can't say there are really any similarities between my real and tv family in that aspect. Although with both of them I am lucky to be able to share my honest thoughts and feelings with them even if it’s hard at times. Even though growing up I did want a baby brother, I wouldn’t want to change anything about how my family functions now, but it was definitely an experience to almost live another life in a household that’s run so differently. 

Describe the premise of #blackAF to a five-year-old? 

#blackAF is about a teenager that is filming her family’s everyday life to send in to her favorite college in hopes of getting in. With parents like ours and six kids, things can get crazy at our house. We act a little more “out there” than a typical family so I don’t think it would be appropriate for a five year old, but you can tell your parents to watch it ;) 

What’s the first thing that you remember being a fan of? 

The first thing I remember being a fan of is Barbie. It was one of my favorite toys growing up and the movies are actually what inspired me to perform. Second, I think it would be Usher’s Confessions album. I had no business singing his songs as a child, but those songs are certainly timeless! 

Can you tell us about a funny experience you had on the set of #blackAF? 

When you’re working with Kenya and Rashida something funny is bound to happen everyday. We had a moment of downtime on set and Kenya was showing off some dance moves and Rashida hopped in and it turned into an impromptu dance battle. All I’m gonna say is they both can do a mean robot. Certainly a sight to see and I’m happy to say I’ve witnessed it in my lifetime. 

You began your career dancing before you moved on to acting. Has dancing taught you any valuable lessons for your acting career? 

Dancing has certainly shaped who I am today and I’ve been able to apply those lessons to everyday life. I used to be the most sensitive person on the planet, and although I still have my moments, the tough love from teachers gave me a thicker skin that is necessary to have in this industry. Particularly from being a competitive dancer I learned the value of teamwork and trust. A scene is a collaboration, not a solo, and when you have a scene partner you have to put your full trust in that person in order to let go and be vulnerable. Also, in competition you can’t win them all, and that’s certainly the case with this industry, and I learned from a young age to come to terms with things not always going as planned and to push on and work harder. The long rehearsal hours and high expectations to perform well every time prepared me for work days on set that could sometimes be 14+ hours. All of the hard work that goes into finally performing a 2 minute dance piece is similar to the endless preparation before a new project only for the final cut to be x amount of minutes long and that’s all people get to see. After all it’s about the journey not the destination right? Being a dancer instilled a lot of important lessons within me and I owe my current position to dance aka my first love. 

Without spoiling anything, did you have a favorite scene in the show that was fun to shoot? 

While on vacation things got a little heated between Chloe and Drea and we really had the opportunity to take it there. Both Iman and I have sisters and were able to relate to our characters in that moment. We were both completely understanding of the situation and each other's emotions that it almost made it feel as though we were truly sharing that moment together as sisters. It was a special moment for myself and it definitely brought us closer. It was a very fun challenge and I’m so happy to have been able to share that with her and portray the ups and downs that siblings have. 

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work? 

I think that black excellence is our drive and ability to go for, and accomplish the great things we do despite the boundaries that have been set in front of us. We have so much power within ourselves and such a great ability to impact lives. As a kid, I only had a handful of young women of color to look up to and I am grateful that they have paved the way for young actors like myself. I am now in the position to possibly be that for today’s young girls, and it is truly a dream and a huge responsibility that I am thrilled to take on. I hope to take part in roles that can positively impact and inspire young girls to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. Representation on screen is so important and the media has the ability to shape young minds. So far I've had the honor to play a past role of a teenage genius who is a master at coding and is not afraid to be herself or speak her mind. I now get to play a young adult who attends a great college and is setting up her future. Those characters within themselves are what I believe to be some great representations of black excellence and if they positively affect at least one person I am proud of that. I’d like it to be known that it took almost two years of being unemployed before I landed my current role. At times it was tough and I honestly had a fleeting moment where I considered giving up, but I kept pushing and would have never gotten to experience being Chloe if I didn’t hold faith in myself! As my career goes on, I intend on using my platform to be vocal about things that matter most to me and inspire and pave the way for those after me. This is all bigger than myself and each accomplishment and even failure on the way to success that we share is an embodiment of #blackexcellence. 

Do you have any advice for young women of color who are looking to get into the acting business? 

When wanting to accomplish anything in life it requires hard work, resilience, and genuine belief in yourself. You will get more no’s than yes’s, but you cannot let that discourage you. When you know you have something special to share with the world, you have to keep pushing on. I’d highly recommend surrounding yourself with people that are like minded so you can uplift and push each other towards your individual goals. An African Proverb that I think describes this well is, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” So finding a strong support system whether that be within your family or your friends, I personally find to be helpful during the journey. When things get tough it is easy to get lost or caught up in this all, but remember to stay grounded and true to yourself. There is no one else like you, and that alone holds so much power! 

Thanks for taking the time Genneya! #blackAF is now streaming on Netflix.