#but this is just me day dreaming of what a more sustainable food

[solarpunknow]

March 13th, 20__

It was a hard, but good day today. Wren and I both have wednesdays off from our job, so we went out to Peigi's place to work on getting the garden there reading for the growing season. It was unseasonably warm for March, but then the last three years in a row have been the warmest globally on record. So, really, while I'm glad the sun has come back (less than a week until the equinox!), I'm worried about the heat waves and wildfire smoke that will certainly hit us this summer. Ugh, not looking forward to that. Just, hopefully no actual wildfires here.

Anyway, it costs a whole two hours worth of wages to drive out there, so we try to spend the whole day when we go- and yes, we've designed the garden around that. We packed a lunch (sandwiches with my sourdough and some black bean tempeh we've been working on), and a plan to fill the day.

See, we haven't been out there since the end of fall, and the crocuses out there have just now started to bloom. (Ours bloomed the last week of January, but we're pretty close to the water and they're halfway up- well I was going to say mountain, but with Mt. Tahoma right there that seems silly. Halfway up a tall hill? They're at roughly 2000 ft of elevation, and we're barely at 300. Still high enough we don't have to worry about the rising sea level though!) So today we went around and took down the temporary deer fence from the last two years (yes, that really should have been taken down last fall, but, well, life happened. What matters is we're getting back on track now... Right?), weeded two 4ft by 70ft rows, refenced one of them, and sowed fava beans as a cover crop/deer lure in the other. We also talked about putting in a real, sturdy deer fence- I think we can afford it this year, and Peigi and xyr parent, Nancy said they could pitch in.

Did I mention that we're getting to garden/farm/forage Peigi and Nancy's land in return for sharing the harvest? It's a pretty sweet deal, and the only reason why Wren and I kept our place in town.

So, anyway, out at Peigi's, we grow the plants that appreciate cooler temperatures (because that urban heat island effect is real! our place is toasty, and I don't appreciated it), plus the plants that are riskier to grow on urban soils, namely root crops and low growing leafy greens. That leaves the fruiting crops and heat lovers for our place (tomatoes, green beans, eggplants, corn, squash, etc, etc. And amaranth. Because amaranth is awesome). Well, and the raspberries and such, because up until now our place has been better protected from the deer. Small yappy dogs are good for that!

Anyway, it's still a bit early to start things out there, as they're still getting hard frosts and a little snow, but I sowed some fava beans, and while the deer have munched on the garlic, it's still there. I'm hoping that with generous enough fertigation that garlic will size up and make a decent harvest. Yeah, yeah, the deer ate them last winter and you'd think I would learn- what, the deer fence? Why didn't that keep them out? Uhhhhh, well, it's not a great deer fence. It wasn't actually a deer fence, or it wasn't originally meant to be for deer, it was originally an electrofence for sheep. And sheep are less nimble than deer.

And since no one wants to hunt the deer any more because of the chronic wasting disease and the cougar and other predator populations haven't rebound yet, there's too many deer, and this is the hungry time of year. So they're a bit desperate, and willing to eat things they normally wouldn't bother. Like garlic. I'm frustrated, but I can't blame them. And I certainly don't want to eat them myself. Ugh. Thus, getting a better deer fence, and in the meantime planting the favas as a distraction. Hopefully it works.

Where was I? Took down the fence, weeded the garlic/other things bed, sowed fava beans, covered them with fall leaves from like 6 months ago, put the fence back up around the garlic bed, checked under the mulch on the other beds (which, the soil looks so much better than it did three years ago! It actually looks like soil now! Deep mulching and cover cropping and patience for the win!). Wren was displeased by all the native black berry, but come on! Having that as a weed instead of the (invasive) cutleaf blackberry? I'll take it! I'll take it home, that is! I'm going to set up a really simple trellis and see if I can grow it semi-domestically so that it's easier to pick the berries. As tasty as they are, the vines are just unpleasant to walk through.

We also went through the wooded area and took out more invasive blackberries and did a light thinning of the native berries there. We really haven't touched that area, so it's super thick and very hard to work through, and it's mostly salmon berry. We'd like more thimbleberry, salal, and huckleberry, so yes, we did remove some salmon berry to make room for the others. I feel a little guilty about it, but it is the most abundant. I put them in the back of the truck and will post to the local groups to see if any one wants some. Not quite the right time of year for transplanting, but they're still dormant, so as long as they're mulched well and watered this year they should do fine. Also worked on expanding the trail, and checked on the nettle patch but they're still doing nothing. Too cold yet.

Now I'm back at our place, and it's time to do a little resting and relaxing before the next work day.

[minniesfiles]

AS LONG AS YOU’RE WITH ME

You never got to live in the utopia you dreamed of, but as long as you were in the arms of the man you loved more than anything else in the world, nothing else mattered to you.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; dystopian, end of the world, established relationship, character deaths, a lot of crying, HEAVY angst, lowkey very cliché

❧ WORDCOUNT; 7.4k

𐚁₊⊹

You lived in a world that was on the brink of collapse, with overpopulation turning into a full-fledged global crisis. The sheer number of people exceeded the ability of the planet to sustain them. Food shortages plagued every corner of the world that left millions to suffer the slow and agonising pain of hunger.

Livestock declined, crops fell short of demand, and the previously plentiful resources that people took for granted were withering at an alarming pace. The constant battle for survival turned everyday life into a nightmare for which no one was prepared for.

People lined up for hours in hopes of receiving scraps of food that could barely last them a day. Entire families would go to bed with empty stomachs, not being sure if they would wake up the next morning.

As resources depleted, humanity's social structure broke along with it. Governments collapsed under the weight of the crisis because they were unable to manage the chaos. Law and order breached across numerous regions, and acts of desperation became prevalent. Looting, violence, and corruption spread like wildfire as people fought for any chance of survival.

Communities that once thrived with hope were now riddled with fear and distrust. Meanwhile, the environment suffered the consequences of humans’ boundless consumption. Forests disappeared, rivers dried up, and pollution poisoned the air and water. The planet, that was pushed to its limits, began to turn against the people within it.

Then came the diseases — a wave of new, deadly pandemics unlike anything humanity ever faced. These mysterious illnesses spread faster than anyone could comprehend. The diseases spared no one, targeting the vulnerable and the strong alike. Babies succumbed to these illnesses at birth, while the elderly populations were wiped out in months.

There were heated debates over whether the rapid decline in population was an irreversible tragedy or a grim mercy. Some saw the decline as a ray of hope that the planet may recover and its destroyed resources could be restored. Others saw the declining numbers as a sign of the final collapse and the beginning of the extinction of the human race.

People lived in continual fear — not just of death, but of losing those they held dear. There was nothing left to do but wait in as the inevitable approached. The end was near — whether in years, months, or days, no one could say. And when it came, humanity would vanish, leaving only echoes of what once was.

Having been abandoned at birth and without knowing who your parents were or why they abandoned you, you were alone in a world that provided no comfort. You grew up without a family's warmth, without anybody to guide or support you.

Having no one to lose might’ve seemed like an advantage in a dying world, but it left you rather hollow and aching for connection even as you fought every day to survive.

Then, a few years ago, everything changed. You met him — the one person who brought light into your dark existence. He wasn’t just someone you loved; he became your entire world.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍10 OCTOBER 2047

Hoisting the last bag into the back of the pickup car, Wonwoo paused and brushed a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat from the afternoon sun.

“Are you ready?” he turned to you, sounding exhausted.

“Yes,” you replied, but your tone was flat and lacked any trace of energy.

Leaving the house where you lived for so many years, you felt a wave of sadness as the memories came flooding in. Even though you made an effort to hide what you were feeling, Wonwoo could see how your shoulders slumped under the weight of everything you were about to leave behind.

His eyes followed your every move. For as long as he could remember, he was always attentive to your moods, and today was no different. Noticing your dull tone and the way you avoided his gaze, his worry deepened.

“Hey,” he murmured gently, walking over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders. His fingers tilted your chin upward so your eyes met his.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked softly, his voice deep yet tender, as though he feared pushing too hard.

You shook your head, your eyes darting away. “Nothing. Let’s just go already,” you muttered, shrugging off his touch and stepping past him, eager to escape the conversation. But Wonwoo wasn’t one to give up easily.

In one quick motion, he reached for your wrist. His grip was firm but not it wasn’t forceful. He pulled you back towards him, and you found yourself standing close, almost pressed against his chest.

“I can tell something is bothering you,” he said. He was insistent but kept his voice calm. “And you know you can talk to me about it, babe.”

Your lips quivered a little as you looked for words that failed to come out, and your eyes fell to the ground. Wonwoo’s thumb traced light circles on the back of your hand as he waited patiently.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, his tone tinged with vulnerability. “Do you not trust me?”

The question broke something inside you. Without a word, you closed the gap between you and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. He froze for a moment before pulling you in even closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You hid your face into your husband’s chest as you slowly broke down into tears. His shirt began to soak with your tears as you cried, and Wonwoo felt every shudder, every sob that escaped you.

It was as if his heart was tearing apart. In all the years he had known you, there was nothing — absolutely nothing — that pained him more than seeing you cry.

“Tell me what’s bothering you princess,” he murmured tenderly. His muscular arms tightened around your trembling frame as he held you like you might break into pieces if he let go.

“I’m just tired,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “Tired of everything that’s going on. Why can’t we just live in peace?”

Each syllable that came out in between your sobs were harsh and loaded with frustration. You pulled back just enough to look at him while tears rolled down your cheeks.

Your red-rimmed eyes pleaded with him, though you weren’t sure for what exactly — answers? Reassurance? A magic fix to the chaos that your lives had become?

Wonwoo’s eyes grew softer, with both strength and sorrow. He cradled your face lovingly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs as they continued to fall.

“I know it’s hard, baby” he said, trying to sound steady. “I know you’re exhausted, and I hate that we’re going through this. I hate seeing you like this.”

You nodded, feeling another fresh wave of tears coming as you hugged him tighter. “I just want things to be normal again,” you said through a broken whisper. “I want to live the life we dreamed of Woo. I want to stop running.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“But I promise, everything will be okay soon. Let’s just hold on to that little hope we have left, okay? Just for a little while longer” it hurt his chest to say that because he himself wasn’t sure, but it was all he could offer right now.

You nodded against him, and his steady heartbeat soothed your own as you closed your eyes.

And after comforting you, Wonwoo gently guided you into the passenger seat of the pickup car. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before circling around to the driver’s side.

With the bags loaded in the back and a map marked with destinations long abandoned by hope, the two of you began yet another long drive. This time to the other side of the country.

The miles blurred together as the car drove along the deserted roads. You lost count of how many times you and Wonwoo packed up your belongings and moved, hopping from one unfamiliar place to another.

You made an effort to keep track at first, with each stop feeling like a checkpoint on an unending journey. But after a while, days blended together and it seemed pointless to keep count. You had no choice but to keep going.

Resources had become limited, and what little money you and Wonwoo had saved were used up buying necessities.

Hotels, motels, and even cheap temporary rentals were now out of reach. Nowadays, you would both spend your nights in the cramped cab of the car or under the open sky, where you’d cling to each other for warmth.

The dreadful state of the country wasn’t always this dire. Wonwoo used to work at a warehouse, and while it wasn’t much, it was enough to get by.

But then everything fell apart. The warehouse shut down without warning, leaving him and dozens of others jobless. No severance, no notice — just a locked gate and a sign that read, “Closed Until Further Notice.”

You never managed to secure a stable job yourself. Odd tasks and temporary opportunities provided you with a few extra cash, but even those dried up as the economy crumbled.

Poverty swept through the country like an unstoppable tide. Families were displaced, children went hungry, and hospitals overflowed with the sick. Every town you passed through had the same haunting marks: abandoned homes, skeletal figures searching for food, and graves dug too shallow.

“We’ll figure something out” you heard your husband say as his free hand gripped yours.

The government did nothing. In the end, they only acted in their own interest, saving themselves while abandoning everyone else. Resources were hoarded, secret bunkers were stocked, and those in power simply disappeared, leaving the rest to fend for themselves.

They didn’t care whether their citizens survived or died, as long as they had everything they needed to sustain their privileged lives. For everyone else, survival became a matter of sheer will and ingenuity. Compassion became a luxury which no one could afford.

With exhaustion bearing down on you, you sank back against the seat, “I’m hungry” you muttered almost in a whisper.

“There’s something in the grey bag. Eat it,” Wonwoo calmly replied while keeping his eyes fixed on the darkened road ahead. The strain he was under was evident from the tight hold his hands had on the wheel and the tension in his knuckles.

Reluctantly, you reached into the back seat, fumbling around until your hand found the grey bag. Pulling it into your lap, you opened it, only to be greeted by the sight of a single plastic bag containing a butter and ham sandwich and a slightly bruised banana.

It wasn’t much, but it was all there was. The hunger was making your stomach ache, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your tone as you looked at the bag on your lap.

“Is this all?” you asked.

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly, and his expression softened into a look of quiet apology. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’m sure we’ll be able to buy something when we get to the shelter.”

His attempt at reassurance didn’t help much, but you nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in complaining. Food was scarce, and you were lucky to have anything at all.

The silence stretched between you as you unwrapped the sandwich, and the crinkle of the plastic sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space of the car.

Outside, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the world covered in shadows. The road ahead appeared to go on forever into the darkness, and the dim glow of dusk was rapidly fading.

You could clearly notice that Wonwoo was exhausted with the way his shoulders slightly sagged. Despite the monotony of the trip, he had been driving for hours on end with no breaks.

“We should stop soon,” you said softly, not wanting to startle him. “You need to rest.”

Wonwoo nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the road. “We will. Just a little farther. The petrol’s running low anyway.”

You hadn’t even realised how close to empty the tank was until he mentioned it. Petrol became almost as valuable as food, stolen more often than purchased. Stealing wasn’t even shocking anymore — it was just another part of survival in a world where morality took a backseat to necessity.

“I was lucky to find a couple of cans of petrol earlier,” he then said. “People are willing to kill for it these days.”

You shivered at the thought as you clutched the grey bag tighter. As miserable as things were, you held onto that small fragile hope that the shelter would bring some semblance of safety.

But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: how long could anyone survive in a world that had lost all sense of humanity?

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

Wonwoo pulled the car into the parking lot of a surprisingly quiet petrol station. The lights were dim and flickering faintly against the encroaching darkness, giving the surrounding area an eerie vibe. The engine gave a low grumble before falling silent, and for a moment, the only sound was the distant rustling of the wind.

He let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the seat as his body drooped with exhaustion. His muscles ached from the hours of driving.

He stretched his arms, hearing the faint pop of his joints, then rubbed his eyes, desperate to shake off the sleep that was almost taking over him.

The silence was broken by a faint rumbling, and his attention was drawn to the passenger seat. He looked over and saw you curled up against the window, your head resting against the cool glass.

Your breathing was regular, your face peaceful in sleep, yet the small groans from your lips showed how uncomfortable you were. When your stomach growled again, louder this time, you shifted in your seat as you instinctively held onto it with one hand.

Wonwoo’s features softened. Watching you twitch uneasily, obviously in a web of hunger even while you slept, deepened his worry.

His chest tightened at the sight. He hated seeing you like this — helpless, vulnerable, suffering. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of it was supposed to be this way.

“I’m so sorry my love” he murmured with guilt.

He reached into his pocket and felt his fingers brush against the few coins and a cash note he had left. He fished them out and held them in his palm. It wasn’t much — just loose change he’d picked up along the way — but it might be enough to buy something small. A piece of bread, maybe, or a single can of food.

His jaw clenched as he eyed the coins and weighed his options. These days, every decision felt like a gamble, a compromise between desperation and survival.

In the end, he bit his lip as he made up his mind. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. As he closed the door behind him, he glanced back at you, who was asleep and unaware.

“I’ll make it better. Somehow.” he whispered once more.

The door to the small shop of the petrol station creaked slightly as it swung open. The store was eerily quiet when Wonwoo entered. Rows of shelves stood mostly empty, and it gave him a sour reminder of how quickly resources were running out.

What little remained was marked at absurdly high prices — instant noodles for ₩12,000, a single loaf of bread for ₩17,000. Wonwoo’s heart sank as he scanned the shelves, hoping to find something, anything, that he could afford.e

He grabbed a small packet of crackers and a can of soup, knowing it wasn’t much but hoping it would be enough to keep you going until you reached the shelter.

Approaching the counter, he placed the items down carefully, as if handling something precious. Behind the counter stood an old man. He looked at the items, then at Wonwoo, before punching numbers into the register.

“That will be ₩17,500” the old man said flatly, his voice devoid of sympathy.

Wonwoo hesitated, swallowing hard as he reached into his pockets and pulled out the note and coins he had left. He counted them slowly with his shaky hands before placing them on the counter.

“I’m sorry, this is all I have,” Wonwoo said as he looked up at the old man, hoping for a shred of understanding.

The man’s gaze hardened as he counted the money. “You’re ₩10,100 short, kid. Either pay the full price or leave the food.”

Wonwoo’s chest tightened, his heart sinking at the words. His mind was racing, and he opened his mouth to argue but hesitated.

“Please, sir,” he began, sounding desperate. “Me and my wife are really hungry, and this is all I have right now. Please, understand. It’ll mean a lot. We’re just trying to survive.”

The old man’s expression remained unchanged as he shook his head slowly. “We’re all trying to survive, son,” he replied. His tone was gruff but not unkind. “I have a family of my own to take care of. This job is all I have to feed them.”

Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped as he took in the man’s words. He understood — of course he did. Everyone was struggling, clawing their way through a world that had lost all semblance of order. But understanding didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I know,” he said softly, almost pleading. “But please. You know the situation we’re all in. Nothing is in our control anymore. But if we help each other, even just a little…”

He trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The old man’s expression didn’t waver, though a small glint of something — regret, perhaps — passed through his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. In the end, Wonwoo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping once again in defeat.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I’ll get going.”

He left the food on the counter and grabbed his money. He turned away before the man could say anything else. As he stepped out into the night, the cold air hit him like a slap. His chest ached even more as he made his way back to the car.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you, still asleep in the passenger seat. Your face was peaceful, almost angelic, but the faint furrow in your brow hinted at the hunger and discomfort you felt even in sleep.

Wonwoo’s eyes welled with tears as he stared at you, his guilt threatening to overwhelm him. He had promised to take care of you, to protect you, but in moments like this, he felt utterly powerless.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel. The tears came then, silent but unstoppable. The world around you was as unforgiving as ever as he sat there in the dark.

He leaned closer and gently cupped your face in his hands. His lips grazed your skin like a silent apology before he placed soft lingering kisses on your cheek.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he whispered with his voice heavy with regret. The tenderness of his actions stirred you awake, and when your eyelids fluttered open, you were met by his tired eyes.

“Woo? Did we arrive yet?” you murmured groggily while rubbing your eyes, still tired.

He smiled at you faintly, brushing back a strand of your hair. “Not yet, bun. We’re resting here for the night, okay?” he reassured you soothingly.

Your stomach betrayed you with a loud growl for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry” you mumbled in embarrassment.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hold on,” he said, reaching into the back seat. His hand emerged with a black bag, which he unzipped to reveal a container of tomato pasta.

“I completely forgot about this. Here, eat this,” he said, handing you the food and a fork. “And this too,” he added, passing you a bottle of water.

You smiled brightly at the sight of the food, feeling a small burst of excitement lifting the heaviness in your heart. However, your joy faded almost as quickly as it came.

“But what about you?” you asked as you tilted your head to look at him.

Wonwoo met your gaze, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about me, just eat,” he said softly.

“Are you sure?” doubt still lingering in your mind.

He giggled lightly as he placed a comforting hand over yours. “I’m a hundred percent sure, hun,” he assured you.

Reluctantly, you nodded, “okay then” you muttered before picking up the fork.

The cold, plain pasta wasn’t particularly appetising, but given the circumstances, it felt like a feast. Bite after bite, you worked your way through the meal, but your thoughts kept returning to your husband. The idea of him going without food didn’t feel right.

Unable to bear it, you paused, setting the fork down and saving half of the meal. Turning to him, you held up the fork with the remaining pasta, motioning for him to eat.

Wonwoo shook his head and tried to push your arm away. “I’m fine, really. Just finish it,” he said, his voice soft yet insistent.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded, “please? I won’t be able to rest if you don’t eat anything.”

Wonwoo didn’t think your words would affect him this badly, but they did, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Finally, he gave in and opened his mouth as you fed him. Once the food was finished, he pulled you into a tight embrace. “When we get there, I promise to find a job and buy us good food,” he sniffled.

“I love you, Woo. Thank you for everything you’re doing for me, for us. I feel so useless because I’m not able to help you with anything. I’m sorry,” you cried.

Wonwoo, ever gentle, cupped your face with his warm hands, his eyes still glistening. “Don’t say that. As long as you’re safe with me, I will take care of you until my last breath,” he reassured you.

He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb and leaned in, “shh, it’s okay. I love you too, hmm?” before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

You hummed quietly as a faint smile broke through the tears as you leaned into him. The two of you stayed like that for a while, cherishing the rare moment of peace.

But the moment was interrupted by a sudden knock on the car window, startling you both.

Wonwoo pulled away and turned toward the sound. He rolled down the window to reveal the familiar face of the old man from the shop. The man stood there, holding two bags filled to the brim, presumably with food and other necessities. His eyes held a look of compassion as he offered the bags.

“Yes?” Wonwoo asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his tears, trying to compose himself.

“Here, have this,” the old man said. “I know you’re tired and hungry. Seeing you leave like that made me feel so bad. Please, have these,” he added, handing the bags to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s hands shook slightly as he accepted the bags, overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to us,” he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Please, take care of yourself and your wife” he added, his lips curling into a faint.

The old man nodded with a warm smile. “Oh! If you need more petrol to refuel your car, then please, go ahead. I’m not going to charge you,” he said with a gentle laugh, turning to leave before Wonwoo could thank him again.

As the old man limped back to the shop, you turned to your husband. “Such a sweet old man. If it was anyone else, they would’ve kicked us out of here.”

Wonwoo nodded while his gaze followed the man. “I know,” he murmured, the words felt heavy as he watched the man disappear into the distance.

You and Wonwoo decided to save the food, even though your stomachs were still growling with hunger. The plan was to eat once you reached your next shelter. It was a small act of caution and preparation for the unknown days ahead. Despite having eaten earlier, the pangs of hunger constantly reminded you of how fragile your situation had become.

With a sigh, the two of you moved to the back passenger seats, where you would spend yet another night. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, the seats barely allowing enough room to stretch, but it was still better than nothing. At least it provided a form of security, however fragile.

“It’s getting colder,” you murmured frustratingly as you rubbed your arms for warmth. The autumn chill arrived too quickly, tearing through the thin layers of clothes you wore.

“Ugh, why did it have to be autumn so soon?” you groaned, shivering slightly. Wonwoo watched you quietly, his heart aching at your struggle.

Without a word, he reached for a blanket from the back and unfolded it quickly before wrapping it around your shoulders. The sudden warmth was comforting, and you looked at him with a small, grateful smile.

“Are you warm now?” he asked softly with affection. You nodded, snuggling deeper into the blanket. “Yes, much better,” you replied, before laying your head gently on his lap.

His hand instinctively found its way to your hair, his fingers brushing through it in soothing strokes. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head. You responded with a soft hum, already drifting off to sleep under the soothing weight of the blanket and his gentle touch.

However, Wonwoo was unable to fall asleep. It had been more than an hour since you fell asleep, but his mind was racing with thoughts. Worries about the days ahead pressed heavily on his heart as he stared into the darkness.

His head began to throb with a dull ache, a pain he tried to ignore, but it only grew sharper.

He reached up to rub the itchy spot on his neck, only to be met with a warm, rigid sensation. A sudden trickle from his nose proved his suspicions accurate. Bringing his hand up, he saw the crimson streak of blood against his skin.

Wonwoo closed his eyes and sighed deeply, knowing exactly what it meant but keeping it to himself for the time being.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

You both woke up to a gloomy dawn the following day. The rain outside was heavy and persistent, and the air felt cold and moist. The tranquil quiet of yesterday's sunny but chilly weather was replaced by the continuous sound of rain on the car’s roof.

You and Wonwoo used the last of the water supply to brush your teeth before packing up and getting ready for yet another long drive.

In contrast to yesterday, the weather today was bleak and unwelcoming. Seeing how miserable the weather was, it made your insides feel uneasy. It felt as though something was bound to happen — something ominous. The feeling stuck to you stubbornly, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as you looked out of the window, watching as the rain blurred your view of the surroundings. Inside, a quiet fear began to build. You couldn’t place its source, but it was there, lingering and constant.

Beside you, Wonwoo’s silence only amplified the discomfort. His usual light-hearted comments or casual chatter were absent. Instead, there was heavy quietness that filled the car. It was almost unnatural for him to be so distant, and that too all of a sudden.

You made a few attempts to spark conversation, but each was met with a quiet nod or a non-committal hum. It was almost as if he were intentionally avoiding you.

You were confused.

He was fine last night, but now, he seemed to be closed off. His thoughts were miles away that you couldn’t read. Not wanting to pry, you decided to give him space, even as the silence between you felt heavier with each passing mile.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

After what felt like an endless journey through the rain, you finally arrived at the shelter you and Wonwoo would be staying — a small, weathered cottage near the seaside. The sound of crashing waves greeted you, blending with the faint drizzle that had begun to lighten.

This cottage held a deep connection to Wonwoo’s past. It belonged to his grandparents, who raised him after his parents passed away. Now that they too had left this world, the cottage was left unused, standing as a quiet memory of his childhood.

The cottage, though old, was still serviceable. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it would provide shelter and a place to rest. You could already tell that adjustments would need to be made to make it feel more comfortable.

As the car came to a stop, Wonwoo unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car without a word. His expression wasn’t cold or annoyed, but there was something — a look of someone lost in their thoughts. Someone who was being weighed down by something he couldn’t yet voice.

You followed his lead, stepping into the damp air as he began unloading your belongings. “Honey-” you called softly, hoping to reach him, but he brushed past you without so much as a glance, heading straight into the house.

The silence between you continued, and it worried you. Something was clearly troubling him, but he wasn’t ready to share it with you yet.

You stood by the doorway, arms crossed and sulky, watching as your husband silently moved the last few bags into the tiny cottage. You were beginning to grow irritated as his silence went on.

As he brushed past you, carrying another box, you trailed after him like a lost puppy. You hated the feeling of being ignored, and it was twisting uncomfortably in your chest.

“May I please know why you’re so quiet and why you’re ignoring me?” you finally blurted, reaching out to grab his wrist. Your voice was soft, and your eyes searched his face, hoping for an answer.

Wonwoo paused, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing.

“Baby,” you pouted, stepping closer. Lifting your hands to cup his face, you tilted it toward you. “What’s wrong with you?” you asked again, placing soft kisses on his neck, trying to coax a response from him.

He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping. Finally, he met your gaze with a tired smile. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just…I guess I was too lost in my thoughts” he made an excuse.

“What are you thinking about?” you pressed, tilting your head curiously.

“Oh, nothing important,” he replied, leaning down to peck your lips. You knew it was a clear attempt to distract you, but you couldn’t let it go.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, the ground beneath you suddenly began to tremble violently. The whole cottage quaked, sending the old, dusty objects on the shelves crashing to the floor. The intensity of the shaking grew rapidly with every second, throwing you off balance and sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard floor.

“Y/n!” Wonwoo’s deep loud voice rang out above the chaos, filled with worry and urgency. You turned your head to see him gripping the nearest wall for support, his wide eyes darting around in alarm.

“W-Wonwoo, what’s happening?” you stammered as you desperately held to the edge of the sofa for stability. Your heart pounding against your ribs in fear.

“Honey, are you okay? Stay calm over there, okay? I’m coming to you!” Wonwoo shouted, firmly but reassuringly as he tried to keep you grounded. He started moving towards you, but the violent shaking intensified, making it nearly impossible for him to stay steady.

A loud cry of fear tore from your throat as a particularly forceful jolt rocked the entire cottage. In an instant, Wonwoo threw caution to the wind, sprinting towards you as fast as his unsteady footing allowed. Reaching you, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around your trembling frame.

“I got you baby. I got you,” he whispered in your ear with his soothing voice as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“What’s going on?” you whimpered as you clung onto him.

“It seems like an earthquake — a really strong one,” he replied worriedly. The two of you held on to each other while hoping the nightmare would soon end.

Suddenly, the ground stopped trembling, but the silence that followed wasn’t comforting. Instead, it was heavy with dread. You both knew that this wasn’t the end but the calm before an even greater disaster. The tension was thick, and your grip on his arm tightened as he shifted.

“Wait here, okay? I’m just going-”

“No! Don’t leave me! Please” you pleaded, your voice breaking. Panic surged as your fingers dug into his arm.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I promise,” he said firmly as his hands cupped your face with an assurance that contradicted the terror in his eyes. “I just need to grab my mini radio. We have to figure out what’s happening. I’ll be right here.”

Reluctantly, you let him go, watching as he rummaged through the mess. When he finally found the radio, he turned it on. Static crackled, followed by the frantic voice of a news broadcaster.

“An earthquake of magnitude 9.1 has struck the east coast! All residents must evacuate immediately. There is a tsunami heading that way. I repeat — a tsunami is heading that way!”

The broadcast was cut short as the radio emitted only static, leaving you both in chilling silence. You exchanged a look, both too paralysed to speak. Internally, fear gnawed at you. The weight of what was coming made your breaths quicken, but there was no time to waste. The clock was ticking, and survival was now a race against nature.

Shakily, you pushed yourself off the ground with your unstable legs as you staggered toward the doorway. Outside, the world was spookily quiet. You pondered for a moment before stepping out of the house. The sky was painted in deep shades of grey, signalling a storm that was brewing on the horizon, but what caught your attention wasn’t the weather.

It was the beach.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of it. An enormous wave, far out in the ocean but undeniably charging toward the shore. The size of it made your stomach drop.

For a moment, you froze as your mind struggled to process the gravity of what you were seeing. Then panic set in. Your chest tightened, and you began hyperventilating, your vision blurring slightly from the overwhelming fear.

“W-WONWOO!” you screamed desperately. Within seconds, your husband was at your side, running towards you with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, but you could only point toward the horizon. The moment his eyes followed your finger and landed on the monstrous wave, his body stiffened. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“We need to get out of here, now!” he said, grabbing your hand.

His tone left no room for argument, and together, you sprinted toward the car, leaving everything behind. You didn’t look back — not at the house, not at the approaching wave. Because all that mattered was escape.

Once you both got inside, Wonwoo slammed the door and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life as he crushed the accelerator pedal, and the tires screeched as you raced away from the coastline. The vehicle jostled and bounced over the uneven road, but neither of you complained.

Reaching out and entwining your fingers with his, you grasped onto him as though he were your lifeline. Wonwoo stole a brief glance, and his panic wavered a little. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a quick kiss to your knuckles.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m here” he said.

The minutes dragged on as Wonwoo drove. The road seemed like it was never going to end, and everything around you felt unreal. Everything seemed disturbingly sombre as a result of the dark grey, menacing hue of the sky.

Your heart plummeted again when you saw it — an enormous sinkhole directly in your path.

“Wonwoo, look out!” you screamed.

Wonwoo’s eyes darted forward, widening as he saw the massive sinkhole ahead. Gasping, he slammed on the brakes and the tires screeched loudly against the pavement. The car jerked to a halt just in time, mere feet away from the edge.

“What the-” he muttered under his breath as he threw open the car door, his jaw tight with frustration and fear.

You trailed closely behind, holding his arm as you both ventured outside to assess the situation. The ground was scattered in sinkholes, each of which appeared to be bigger than the one before. The severity of the situation became apparent as you stared at the maze of devastation.

“How are we going to make it to the other side?” you asked.

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair as his mind raced for a solution. He stared at the sinkholes as if he was asking the earth to respond.

Before he could respond, the ground beneath your feet began to tremor once again. This time, the shaking was violent, far more intense than before. You stumbled and tightened your hold on his arm as panic struck again.

The second earthquake hit with such force that it knocked both of you off your feet. The violent tremors rippled through the earth, creating a large, jagged crack that spread across the road. You clung to Wonwoo instinctively as the ground began to split further, separating into an immense gap.

The road ahead was completely inaccessible as pieces of dirt and asphalt disintegrated and fell into the growing pit. The sound of destruction filled the air, like the grumbles of the earth, the crash of debris, and your own frightful sobbing.

You shuddered violently, tears streaming down your face. Wonwoo pulled you in close and encircled his arms around you as if they could protect you from the mayhem.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said.

Summoning his strength, he rose to his feet and scooped you up in one swift motion before carrying you back to the car. He hurriedly got behind the wheel and put you in the passenger seat. Slamming the gear into reverse, he turned the vehicle around and sped off in the opposite direction.

But luck was not on your side. Wonwoo’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as his eyes budged in horror.

Before you, a huge tsunami wave raced ahead, engulfing everything in its path. He slammed on the brakes and the car jerked to a sudden stop.

“Fuck!” he swore under his breath. The wave was unstoppable, and escape seemed impossible.

“Wonwoo,” your voice quivered as you tried to meet his gaze. Wonwoo turned to you immediately, his heart sinking at the sight of your tear-streaked, reddened face.

“I’m s-scared,” you stammered, your words breaking between sobs. “I don’t want to d-die.” Your hand reached out for his and clutched it tightly as if it could tether you to safety.

Wonwoo’s chest ached as though it might shatter. The truth, one he could never bring himself to say, was that there was no escaping this. You both knew it. Here, in this wretched place where hope had no footing, getting out alive was an impossibility.

Wonwoo felt his throat tighten, and his own tears welled up as he watched you crumble before him. His mind thought of words that could comfort you, but nothing felt like enough.

“Come here” he managed to utter.

Without hesitation, he tugged you gently toward him, pulling you onto his lap. You sank into his embrace and buried your face in his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you.

He rested his cheek against your hair and began to press soft kisses across your forehead.

Between each kiss, he murmured softly,

“I love you so much,” he promised softly between each kiss. It was all he could offer — a reminder that, no matter what, you weren’t alone.

“Maybe this life isn’t for us,” his voice cracked, barely audible over your muffled cries. Each word felt like a dagger, cutting deeper into your fragile heart.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your chest as you buried your face against him, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing wiring you to reality.

The car rocked beneath you both, moving backward inch by inch, with screeching metal filling the air. Wonwoo clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as tears trickled down his cheeks. He'd been trying so hard to be strong for you, but the burden of the situation eventually broke him.

“I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die,” you mumbled repeatedly, the words spilling out like a mantra.

Wonwoo’s heart clenched painfully, and his hands moved to cup your tear-soaked face. Gently, he lifted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at me, Y/n,” he urged, his voice soft but insistent. But you tried to avoid his eyes, still shaking.

“Look at me baby, please” he repeated. Slowly and hesitantly, your tearful eyes locked with his.

“Just think of this as a bad dream,” he whispered as his thumb brushed softly against your cheek to wipe away the tears.

“When we wake up, we’re going to be in paradise. Together. I promise” his voice cracked, but he kept going.

“I’m never going to leave your side. We’re in this together — we’ll always be together” he spoke, offering you the only comfort he could.

Leaning forward, Wonwoo’s lips captured yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. Your hands instinctively grabbed his arms in response, but your body still rattled, terror still burning like wildfire through your veins. He felt it, the way your hands shook, the way you struggled to match his composure.

Breaking the kiss, Wonwoo grabbed your wrists gently and pulled you closer. “My love, relax” he murmured as his lips brushed against your forehead.

“We’re going to paradise together. Death can’t separate us. This place isn’t for us — we’re meant for something better.”

The car shifted again, tilting downward as gravity began to win, but Wonwoo refused to let you look away.

“Stay with me, baby,” he whispered. “Just stay with me.”

“You’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,” Wonwoo whispered.

He rested his forehead against yours, feeling his breath mingling with yours as he spoke. “The love of my life. The one who lit up my world.” His words poured out like a raw and unfiltered confession.

“We were both lonely in this messed-up world, but fate brought us together when we needed each other the most.” A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips as he added, “I’m so glad I found you.”

He leaned in and pecked your lips softly. “I can’t even put into words how much I love you,” his voice broke.

“You’ll always be my first and my last. This isn’t the end, princess. Never.” His hands cradled your face as his eyes bore into yours. They were filled with a conviction that made you believe his every word.

“This is just the beginning of our beautiful life in paradise. Our journey in this cruel place is over.”

Something about his voice, his touch, finally allowed you to exhale the fear that had gripped you. Your body began to relax, the terror of death slowly melting away. As long as he was with you, there was nothing left to fear.

The car lurched again, the edge of the crater drawing nearer, but you no longer panicked. Wonwoo’s words anchored you.

As the car tipped forward, Wonwoo wrapped you tightly in his arms, whispering over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Woo,” you mumbled against his neck.

It was the last words you said, and the last Wonwoo heard as the car plunged into the pit of the earth. Together, into the unknown.

a/n; lowkey cried, so tragic :(

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[hardlysticks]

The Sea Breeze Carries Unknown Secrets

Chapter 1

You can’t remember much of last night, you remember waking up and seeing two creatures in the ocean. Clearly it was a dream, being back in this town brought back the ideas of the creatures that your grandfather had warned you about.

Besides that weird dream and the splashes near the rocks, everything had been fairly normal. You spend your days venturing into town and reliving parts of your childhood summers that you could remember; that cute little cafe that always served tasty treats, or maybe the little antique shop where your grandfather had bought you a little model sailboat. It was all surprisingly still here.

It brought you a sense of comfort to see that everything was still the same, which meant that those you had met when you were younger still remembered you.

“Oh darling! It’s been so long since we last saw you!”

An older woman broke you from your thoughts as she brought her hands up to pinch at the apple of your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile at the affection and her words, you remember the older woman, she was one who would feed you stories of the sea while always leaving a seat open for you and your grandfather open at her restaurant.

“I know I know, college and my career really kept me away from visiting. But I’ve moved into papa’s old home” you mentioned to her.

You weren’t that young kid who would run around town and listen to whatever story you could get your hands on, you were now in your mid thirties and had stepped your foot into the world of publishing and writing books.

“That’s wonderful! We really have missed seeing you around. Now if you ever need a little something to eat then you know where to find me” she gave you a quick pat on the cheek before she had wandered off back to her restaurant.

As the older woman wandered off you pulled your phone out of your pocket to look at the list you made for yourself, even if you finished unpacking you still had stuff left to do. Such as grocery shopping.

With your phone in hand you made your way to the small market that the town called a grocery store, staring down at your grocery list you meandered down the aisles grabbing the food that would sustain you in your new houses.

The fruit and vegetables always seemed to be more ripe and colorful in the coastal town, you don’t remember seeing such a juicy mango in the city. Staring at the display of vegetables in front of you, it distracts you from the feeling of being watched. Coal brown eyes that followed every little bit of your movement, but staying out of your sight.

Your mind played it off as someone not recognizing you in a town of close knit people, with a shake of your head you moved to wander down the bakery aisle instead.

With your gaze focused on your grocery list you managed to walk into a wall, though when you glanced up from the list you noticed that it was in fact not a wall…. And instead a wall of muscle.

“Oh!- oh I’m so sorry! I really should have focused on where I’m going-“ you stuttered out as you started at the behemoth of a man.

The man, now that you got a better look, was around 6’2 and built like a brick house. A black surgical mask covered the lower half of his face, if you squinted just slightly you could see a display of light freckles that dusted his face, and then there was the dark brown eyes but you could have sworn under the fluorescent light it turned to an amber like color.

“It’s fine” a gruff voice interrupted you from your thoughts, the thick Manchester accent definitely matched this giant of a man. The man held a basket filled with summer vegetables and what seemed like tea boxes.

“Right um… still I should pay better attention” you added, before offering your name towards him. The man raised an eyebrow; staring down at your form before letting out another grunt.

“M’names simon” he replied, a tinge of hesitancy lining his voice, all while his eyes held a sort of amusement. With a smile you gave him a nod and glanced down at your almost full basket, you had gotten what you came here for.

“Well… it’s nice to meet you Simon. But I must be off now. I hope to see you around” you offered him with a smile before heading off to the cashier. The line went by fast and you were able to pay for all the necessities you needed for the next few days.

The walk home was nice, the cool sea breeze cools you down from the summer sun all while letting your hair wisp against your face. It was far better than the smog filled air you had learned to live with in the city.

Town wasn’t all too far from your seaside cottage, a long gravel road welcomed you back to your cottage. Carefully balancing your bags of groceries in your arms you tried to reach back towards your pocket to retrieve your key to open your door. As you stopped at your porch you noticed something blocking your way.

Fish… dead fish

As you took a closer look at the fish you noticed it was a small arrangement of cod and grouper… how the hell did they make their way to your porch from the seaside? With a groan you stepped around them and brought your groceries inside, trying to plan on how to deal with the fish.

Eventually the only thing that came to mind was… throwing the dead fish back in the sea. Your lip curled up in slight disgust as you picked up the dead fish and tossed them back into the sea, mumbling to yourself about how gross that was.

A pair of sapphire eyes watched from past the rocks on the coastline, squinting with confusion as they watched you toss the fish away.

Authors note!- y’all I’m so sorry school kicked my ass with exams but I should now be regularly posting each weekend! And also next chapter reader will do some interacting with someone special 👀

[writing-for-marvel]

Night Shift

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 5 | Series Masterlist | PART 7 > >

Summary: When you’re stuck on night shift for two weeks, you and Bucky find it difficult to spend time together.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, mention of sending nudes/audio within an established relationship, implied food play, mention of dialysis and an elderly patient dying, soft fluff

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I truly didn’t mean for this part to be this long, yet here we are. Some soft smut and domestic fluff after the angst of part 5. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“My place next weekend?” Bucky poses as he peppers delicate kisses over your face. You scrunch your nose and let out a little squeal of glee that promotes him to continue his trail of kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

The prospect of spending an entire week without seeing or touching Bucky seems like pure torture. You suspect Thor didn’t take kindly to you turning him down in favour of Bucky which has resulted in you covering the night shift for the next two weeks.

With Bucky still living with and taking care of his Ma recovering at home after being discharged from the surgical ward last week, and your now severely conflicting schedules, you know you won’t find the time to see each other until the following weekend.

You have to remind yourself that you only have to endure six days without him, not even a full week, but it’s the six nights attempting to fall asleep in an empty bed without his strong arms cuddling you into his broad, musky scented chest that you suspect will be more tormenting to endure.

“What have you got planned?” Your eyes narrow, trying to see if you can get any clues by reading his countenances. Unfortunately, all he does is smile, which gives away nothing except for the soft flutter of butterflies in your stomach that indicate how you enjoy being the cause of his happiness.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” God he loves to tease, and as much as you adore him for it, having something specific to look forward to at the end of the week would actually be very helpful in surviving the week.

“Can it be next weekend already?” You whine between peppered kisses around your face. Bucky simply chuckles, but he feels your pain, he doesn’t want to have to endure the impending week without you either.

“I promise, the week will go by in a flash.”

But this one time, Bucky’s promise isn’t truthful.

The week feels like it’s moving through tar.

You’re awake when it’s pitch black outside and when you attempt to sleep at home, the sun is seeping through your curtains, almost mocking you that you can’t be outside enjoying it.

The night shift drags on more so than a regular day because you don’t have Wanda keeping you company, and you know that you won’t be able to steal glimpses of Bucky which normally sustain you throughout your shift.

You then come home and crash on an empty bed in a lonely apartment when most people are only just starting their day. Your mind can’t help but wonder what Bucky is doing at this very moment. Perhaps he’s making breakfast for his mom, and you smile thinking about them joking together over their cereal. Or maybe he’s having his morning shower, the hot water cascading over his toned body, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes as he washes his naked body.

Possibly thinking about you.

Maybe even touching himself to the thought of you being right there with him.

And that’s the image you manage to fall asleep thinking about and which enters your dreams.

The following day is no better. Sporadic messages from Bucky during his waking hours is the only contact you have with him, until it gets too late where his communication ceases altogether, under the assumption he finally fell asleep.

After driving home, and two and a half long days without seeing him, you’re desperate to hear his voice. Sadly, the only time you manage to hear it is when his voicemail instructs you to leave a message because you’ve missed him. At a very minimum he will be able to hear your voice if you leave a voicemail, so you decide to tell him about your day.

“Morning baby, I know you’re probably with your Ma, but I just finished my shift and I’m on my way home and I’d thought I’d see if I could catch you before I fall asleep. It was a tough one today, Mrs Stewart, that lovely lady on dialysis who read my cards, the one I told you about last week, she came into the ER again and passed away overnight. I organised for her daughters to come in to say goodbye, but it felt like such an injustice, she should have had more time and been able to meet her grandbaby. I wish I had been able to come home to a hug and kiss from you.” You take a short pause, trying to compose yourself. You’re a doctor, losing patients is part of the job description and just makes saving lives that more extraordinary, but it is always easier to cope when you have Bucky there to run you a bath and help wash the day off you.

You don’t get that privilege this week.

“How’s your Ma? I know you said the other day she was meeting all her goals so I’m sure she’s breaking all kinds of records and continuing to be a mischief maker just like her son is.” You let out a chuckle, thinking of your cheeky boyfriend and his even sassier mom interacting with each other makes you grin. “Two nights down, four more to go. Honestly the weekend can’t come soon enough, I already miss you and it’s only been two days! Oh also, I sent you some pictures overnight, I hope you enjoy getting to look through those before bed later, I think you’ll like them. Sending you kisses and dirty dreams. I hope we get to speak soon baby.”

You hang up feeling ever so slightly better. Even though you weren’t actually speaking with him directly, in some strange way you feel like you have.

When you wake up, a good eight hours later, feeling more exhausted than when you went to sleep, one of the notifications you’ve missed is a call from Bucky, and your heart flutters when you realise he’s also left you a long voicemail.

“Hey darling, it was so great hearing your voice just before starting my shift, I feel like my day is already brighter from just listening to you talk. I’m sorry to hear about your patient, she seemed like such a sweet lady. If I were with you I’d give you the biggest hug and kiss, you deserve them both. Just know you are an amazing doctor; and her daughters will be grateful that they got their chance to say goodbye.” There’s a long pause in the recording, so much so you think your phone has accidentally switched off, but then you hear his voice again. “Ma is doing so well, we’re getting out and doing some small walks around her neighbourhood. She’s friends with one of the lady’s down the end of the street and her poodle puppy, so her motivation to keep walking is to see little Millie and get puppy kisses. I have to take her to a follow-up appointment after work, so it might prove a little tricky finding a time to chat but hopefully I can catch you before your shift.”

Your heart sinks, after not actually getting to speak with him earlier today you had hoped this afternoon would be your best chance to do so. But as disappointed as you are, you don’t blame Bucky one bit - he has to take care of his mom, and seeing the relationship they share only makes you adore him even more.

“I had a sneak at those pictures earlier and you made me harder than a fucking rock looking like a wet dream in that lingerie set. You can guarantee I’ll be looking at those when I go to sleep tonight. I might just have to send you some audio of how much I enjoy them.” Excitement tingles down your spine and you salivate at the thought of hearing Bucky get off to pictures of you. That of all the people he’s ever been with, you’re the one he can’t get enough of. “I hope you’re resting up baby, you deserve it. I’m sure we’ll speak soon, and if not, I’m just gonna keep listening to your voicemail on repeat so I can hear your voice again.”

You listen to his message three times. Firstly, just to hear his voice, how elated he sounds speaking to your voicemail. Second, to actually take in what he said. And thirdly, to listen to the sound of his voice again.

The remainder of the week wouldn’t be such a drag now that you could listen to his voice any time you want.

* * *

After your shift ends on Saturday morning, you have a pep in your step as you exit the hospital, on your way straight to Bucky’s place.

You’re finally going to see him again and nothing, not even the wet weather that you drive through towards his apartment, will dampen that.

When he answers his door, there’s a moment's pause where you simply stare joyously at each other, as if trying to determine if this is actually real or something concocted in a dream.

Seeing Bucky’s gorgeous, smiling face after a week apart is like a breath of fresh air. After a week of suffocating, you could now take a long, deep breath, oxygenating all those cells in your body which had been crying out for him. By the achingly doting expression on his face, you are positive he has longed for this moment as much as you have.

Someone else would probably think you had spent months apart with how hurriedly you pull one another into a crushing embrace. Your arms fling around his neck, pulling him down to you, and he pulls your waist flush with his as he buries his face in your neck.

“I missed you.” You whisper in his ear, taking in the familiar scent of his eucalyptus shampoo and that musky scent which was just naturally Bucky.

“Not as much as I missed you.” He mumbles, pulling back so his lips can capture yours in a tender kiss. His lips are soft and meld against yours with languid motions.

You stay in each other's arms for a long moment, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace, letting the rest of the world melt away as you revel in the delight of being reunited.

With a kiss to your forehead, Bucky takes your hand and leads you inside, not wanting to be deficient of your touch for even a single second longer.

“I have something to show you.” He proclaims with a mischievous grin. You’re left to ponder what it might be as he doesn’t give you any hints, however, you don’t need to wait long for when he leads you through the doorway to his living space the surprise hits you square in the chest.

“Bucky…” Your jaw drops open and you’re left speechless.

His lounge room is lit up with candles, casting a soft, warm glow over the entire room and filling the air with a sweet vanilla fragrance. The couch and coffee table have been pushed to the back wall to make room for a makeshift bed of multiple blankets and pillows. A small projector sits at the foot of the ‘bed’, pointing at a now bare wall, the few pictures Bucky did have up now stored on the coffee table. To top it all off, rose petals have been scattered all around the room, with a bouquet of the same flowers tied up neatly in a pretty bow beside the bed which you can only assume is for you.

“You did all this for me?” You choke out, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you but the lump in your throat betraying you.

“I’d do anything for you.” He responds without hesitation. “I wanted to have a romantic weekend together after not seeing you for so long.”

He looks at you with such extreme fondness, like something precious he values and wants to keep safe, and you have no choice but to kiss him. Not soft and sweet like his was, but instead ardently, fiercely. As a ‘thank you’. As a ‘I missed you’. As a ‘I care about you beyond what words can describe’. As a ‘I need you right now’.

Your hands find his hair and pull lightly, in the way you know he likes and which helps you open him up to you so you can sweep your tongue in his mouth.

You’re in control of the kiss until Bucky manages to slip a large hand past the elastic of your pants, fingers finding the wet patch forming in your panties. Even the feel of his thick fingers through the material is enough to make you keen, and all of a sudden you’re putty in his hands as he takes charge.

“How long have you been this wet for me, darling?”

“All week.” You moan breathlessly as he runs his fingers through your soaking folds, making sure his thumb circles your clit with the just the right pressure he has come to know with experience makes your toes curl. “Jerking off to your pictures just isn’t the same.”

“You need the real thing, baby?” Bucky nips at your earlobe before sucking on your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with lust. You want him - no, need him, more than you’ve needed anyone before, more than you need to breathe.

“Yes, please.” You beg, hands reaching down to feel his hardening cock underneath the material of his sweatpants. His lips connect with yours again as you cup his balls through his pants, a gravelly grunt escaping his lips

“Lay down, darling.” Bucky instructs, his spare, strong hand running down your back to assist you falling backwards onto his provisional blanket bed. “I got you.” He promises as you let him hold your body weight, placing you down carefully and ensuring your head rests on one of the pillows.

Bucky cages you in, his muscular form and intoxicating scent consuming your vision and filling all your senses. His eyes are brimming with desire, observing you underneath him as if you are the most alluring sight he’s ever had the pleasure of gazing at, and it only makes the wet patch in your panties grow.

“Need you, James.” He smirks as his real name falls from your lips. Bucky knows you mean business when you use it, and though he loves to tease you, today is not the time for that, because as much as you need him, he needs you even more.

“I know baby, Imma take good care of you, make you feel so good.” Bucky coos before sliding down your body, pulling your slacks and underwear off in one go. “There’s my pretty pussy.” As soon as his plump lips suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves, you’re sent straight to heaven. Without giving you a moment to think about how almost painfully good he’s making you feel and how much you’ve missed the feel of his tongue swirling at your core, he’s slipped two fingers inside you, fervently stroking your velvety, fluttering walls.

“Shit, Buck. God, I’ve missed your mouth.” If you were with anyone but your precious Bucky, who you trust implicitly, you might be embarrassed by how quickly the band at the bottom of your stomach is tightening, ready to snap at any second. But you never feel self conscious when you’re with him - his utmost concern with your pleasure, ensuring you always feel safe and comfortable when you’re with him nourishes the trust you share.

You look down at Bucky between your legs still fully clothed, rutting into the blankets beneath him, as if he’s getting off on purely the taste of you. You swear you’ve never been with a partner who actually enjoys eating you out as much as Bucky does, rather than seeing it as a chore to get through so you’ll suck them off.

Through his long hair, strands of which have fallen in front of his face, his piercing blue eyes look up to find you watching him intently, overflowing pleasure etched on your features, whimpers and moans cascading from your mouth. This only spurs him on. With a smirk you can feel against your sensitive folds, his movements become more frantic, pushing you ever closer to your impending high.

“Make a mess on my face, darling.” His breath is hot against your centre, before diving right back in, tongue feverishly licking up every drop of arousal he himself is responsible for, as his fingers curl to find that spot inside you which makes you see stars.

“Buck- oh god, oh please, right there, fuck yes, yes, right there, don’t stop.” Your thighs squeeze around his head but it doesn’t slow him down. He’s been starving for a week and nothing, even not being able to breathe, is going to stop him from taking you over the edge of ecstasy.

And that’s exactly what he does. With a simultaneous thrust of his fingers and suction on your clit, you cum with a cry of his name, thighs quivering and toes curling as your back arches off the pile of blankets and pillows that are now in disarray.

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, continuing to pump his fingers inside you as his other hand frantically rubs your clit, prolonging your pleasure and causing your body to involuntary jerk as your orgasm fires through every cell in your body.

When you finally come down, completely out of breath and sweat beading on your brow, Bucky smirks at you in his signature, cheeky way where you can’t help a reciprocating smile blossoming in your own features.

“Now, let’s see how many times you can cum on this fat cock.”

* * *

“Bucky?” You mumble with a hoarse voice as your eyes blink open to the bright early afternoon sun streaming through the cracks in Bucky’s curtains, even though you can tell he’s tried to pull them across as far as they will go so you can sleep in mild darkness.

When you don’t get a response you turn over lazily, arm reaching out to the spot beside you on the makeshift bed only to find cool sheets and spare pillows. Your heart drops that even though you got to fall asleep beside Bucky, you haven’t been able to wake up beside him.

That moment of happiness and contentment as you both open your eyes in the morning, being the first thing you each see in the day, after being the last before falling asleep, as soft smiles spread simultaneously over both of your features, is a type of pure magic you don’t want to be deprived of once you’ve had a taste.

Hearing movement and faint sizzling coming from the adjacent kitchen, you pull Bucky’s discarded Henley over your naked form and, with a stifled yawn, shuffle towards your boyfriend.

You take a moment to lean on the doorframe and admire your burly boyfriend, shirtless, with grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, long hair tied back from his face in a small bun as he pours batter onto a frypan.

You could get used to this.

The muscles of his bare back flex as you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade, your arms snaking around his toned midriff

“Did you sleep well?” He asks softly as the hand he’s not using covers your left hand, fingers naturally slotting between yours. One of your favourite things since officially becoming his girlfriend is how physically affectionate he’s become. He’ll make any excuse to hold your hand, to sling an arm around your shoulders or have you sitting in his lap.

The fact that he seeks out that contact with you, makes your heart flutter each time. Warmth blooms in your chest knowing you’re the only person he wants that affectionate, lovey-dovey connection with.

“Hmm I guess. Wanted to wake up next to you though.” Your arms tighten around his waist, as if to reflexively keep him close and prevent him from moving away as he had done while you were asleep.

“I’m sorry darling, our sleep schedules are just off at the moment.” You kiss a freckle on his shoulder blade, a silent recognition that you understand what he means and you aren’t upset. You observe a shiver running down his back at your soft kiss so you do it again with a smile, loving that you’re the one person who gets to elicit that kind of reaction from him.

“Watcha making?” You ask lazily, standing on your tiptoes so you can see above his shoulder to what he’s cooking in the frypan. The room smells delicious, like sugary sweetness and melting butter

“Pancakes. Figured we’d need some energy after what we did this morning.” He chuckles as you let out a little squeal of delight. No man has ever put the effort in to cook for you before, and now Bucky’s making one of your childhood favourites. “Plus, they’re one of the only things I can make well.”

“They almost look as yummy as you.” You flatter, poking him at the ticklish spot he has just above his hip which makes him squirm and giggle.

“You’ll have to make sure to save room for your dessert then.”

You fall into comfortable silence as you remain resting on his back and Bucky continues to cook the pancakes one at a time, treasuring the closeness given your separation over the past week, but not needing conversation to feel at ease with each other's presence.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me again, huh?” Bucky’s voice pulls you away from the dark void of sleep you were falling into without realising.

“Maybe… you’re just so comfy.” You mumble, your tired lips barely articulating the words, but Bucky chuckles like he knows what you’ve said.

“Here…” He places the spatula down and before you know it, he’s grabbing you by the hips and lifting you onto the counter beside his stove. He stands between your legs, casually kissing you and hands smoothing over your bare thighs. In this moment it feels as though nothing can come between you, even the prospect of spending the rest of your career on the night shift. “My sweet girl.” He mumbles against your lips, hooking your legs around his waist, getting lost in the taste of you to the extent that he almost forgets about the batter cooking on the pan and has to frantically untangle himself from you to turn them before they burn.

Once the pancakes are done, Bucky serves them up on a plate for each of you and leads you back to the living room with your hand in his, only leaving you huddled in the blankets alone for a moment to go grab all the topping options he purchased specifically for this occasion.

You start eating your pancakes as Bucky fiddles to connect the projector, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t work. You tell him not to mind, because after finishing your pancakes, you’re interested in other activities that don’t involve watching a movie, and making use of the rest of the whipped cream Bucky bought.

Though the weekend will surely go by in a flash, you want to stay in the moment with him and enjoy every sweet and sinful second you get together.

* * *

Before you know it, Monday has come round again and you’re back on the night shift. Yes, the week without Bucky had been difficult and you didn’t like it one bit, but you made it through once, so you know you can do it again.

Besides, your weekend of indulgence certainly made up for the lonely nights and days without seeing him, so you’re using the prospect of a similar weekend as motivation to get through another gruelling week.

Early on in your shift, as you’re preparing to send a young man in for an x-ray of his possibly fractured wrist, a familiar voice calls your name as they approach the nurses desk.

“Buck?” Your heart starts beating frantically thinking something must be catastrophically wrong for him to be in the ER at this time of night. “Is everything okay? Is it your mom?” Your voice is shaky, but your concern isn’t reflected on his face.

If you weren’t in a state of panic, you would have realised that him being in his EMT uniform was an indication of the true reason he found himself inside the hospital, but you fail to notice that detail in the moment of anxiety.

“Darling, everything is fine.” He punctuates his reassurance with a sweet kiss, his large hands calmly cupping your face and savouring the feel of your lips against his. “I swapped shifts with someone on nights for the week. I didn’t want to have to go another whole week without seeing you or sleeping next to you.”

Surprise stuns you for a split second - Bucky changed to the night shift because he missed you that much last week. Your stomach does a flip at how thoughtful his gesture is.

“Or do you mean sleeping with me? Are you a little pussy drunk, Barnes?” You tease.

“Oh I’m most definitely pussy drunk. Pussy addicted even.” He affirms with his signature smirk. Warmth blooms in your chest at how shamelessly he’s into you - you have become accustomed to men’s ambiguous signals, their aversion to commitment, but with Bucky, as soon as you proclaimed yourself as his girlfriend, he’s been nothing but unabashedly yours.

“You really swapped the night shift just for me?” You ask, voice softer and more vulnerable now. No one has ever gone out of their way to inconvenience themselves for you before. Part of your brain can’t believe seeing you more is the only reason Bucky has made the switch. Surely he must have some ulterior motive?

“Of course I did.” He says with an amused lilt as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your stomach tingles with something of devoted affection when you perceive no trace of deception in his features.

“What about your Ma?” You question, very appreciative of what Bucky has done but concerned he hasn’t thought it through the whole way.

“Steve offered to help out, and I can still see her before each shift in the afternoon and afterwards in the mornings.” He reassures with a smile that relieves any doubt you were feeling. “Spending time with you is important to me. No one makes me feel as happy and content as I do when I’m with you, so when the opportunity presented itself, of course I took it.”

Looking into his steel blue eyes, which regard you with a familiar warmth and devotion, your stomach clenches as the realisation hits you - you have something in this world you’re terrified to lose.

Perhaps his edges are a little jagged by his past, but Bucky makes you feel like you’re in the exact right place at the exact right time, that there’s no rush, nothing to run or hide from, that you are precisely where you’re meant to be.

And though you don’t tell him that you’re falling in love, you kiss him like you do.

Part 7 > >

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[yoru-exe]

summer and forever _INUI SEISHU

summer in your humble japanese apartment with seishu usually consists of the whirring sound of the fan, the thin curtain swaying gently with the breeze, and the opened wooden sliding door of the veranda where seishu would sit and smoke the afternoon away, trying to distract himself from the heat. him being a gentleman enough to put out his cigar when you approach him is something you appreciate wordlessly.

this afternoon, you'd leaned against him as you knitted an ornament to make your home a touch more personalised. there was a comfortable silence as he stared down at you before he dropped a question that made you pause your little spare time activity and track of thought, "do you want to move out of here?".

you stared at him with big curious eyes, hoping for an explanation. and explain he did, albeit rather nervous with how he ran his fingers through his short hair down his nape, "i saw the way you looked at your friend's house when we dropped her at her home last time. i just wonder if you'd like living in a place like that too".

when you stayed silence, he added, "i don't make a lot, but i think we can work it out if you prefer it". he quickly ran a little math on how much his bike might worth if he sells it. maybe he should consider borrowing his parents some money? hesitation coursed though his system as he thought more about it. he's sure it's not a sustainable plan for a long run, but he sincerely wanted you to be happy living with him.

resting your knitting project on your laps, you shifted your body slightly so that you could face him better, "what about you? would you like to?".

he blinked, "i don't mind it. i only care about living with you".

you smiled softly and looked across your small living space, where mismatch-coloured pillows laid messily on your shared bed, entangled with the thin blanket but you sure don't need it with how warm seishu's body is; the low table where you would eat your meal together every night and play board games sometimes; the little kitchen where you'd prepare food for the two of you while he tried to help but ended up clinging to you silently from behind when he realised he's just getting in your way (you actually didn't think so), and this very sliding door where you'd stare at the stars with him past midnight when the sky is clear enough.

"i'd like to stay here for as long as i can. we've made so much memory here together and i'm not ready to let them go yet", you spoke with a low voice, as if speaking too loud will distort the memory itself. "even if one day, we're to lose all this, at least, i'd like for you to stay with me", you looked at him with a soft gaze, "because my home is you, seishu. so don't leave me, okay?".

you felt his arms circling around your waist, gently yet firmly, pulling you closer against him as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

"i would never, not even in a dream".

you hummed away happily as you continued with your knitting, while seishu basked in your presence before he slowly drifted to a sweet dream where for this summer and more, you continue to be his and he yours.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Horla

CR 8

Chaotic Evil Small Aberration

Bestiary 6, pg. 158

Let me preempt this: No jokes about what the Horla physically resembles. I know. You know. We all know. Try and be mature!

Anyway, the Horla here are hostile, invasive parasites from the Ethereal Plane which feed directly on hopeful thoughts and pleasant dreams from their victims. They have no innate way to slip between the planes, so they often have to sneak through the rare portals or thin boundaries, piggyback on with creatures that CAN travel (with or without the creature's knowledge), or somehow secure a pact with another being to get themselves summoned into the world.

Once they've emerged into the world, Horla are quick to seek out minds that surge with brightness and creativity, sniffing out their victims with an at-will Detect Thoughts. If you're wondering how a beach-ball-sized mass of teeth and flesh goes unnoticed in the world, it's because they're shrouded by a constant Greater Invisibility, an extremely powerful tool for offense, defense, and infiltration; invisibility that never breaks, ever, and reactivates automatically a round later if it's ever shut off by an outside force. If a Horla is ever forced into combat, its invisibility turns its trio of pathetic 1d4+2 tentacle slaps into a far more formidable 2d6+1d4+2 damage each because of Sneak Attack, letting it quickly dispatch hosts that no longer amuse it or snuff out any creatures that threaten to take their food source away.

Unfortunately, Horla aren't in the business of killing quickly, or killing at all if they can avoid it. They're sustained by shattering hope and quashing dreams, and as such a victim playing host to a Horla only ever dies if they're lucky; the creature even has a 1/day Status spell to keep an eye on them and rush to their aid if they're ever in mortal danger. Otherwise, they're content to hover nearby and make their host's life miserable, expertly crafting its host's every day to maximize their despair like a living case of depression. To this end, they can curse a sleeping victim with Ennui once per day, afflicting the target with a -2 penalty to ability checks, saving throws, and skill checks for 24 hours, a penalty that doubles to -4 for concentration checks and any saves against fear. While bad enough on its own, a Horla can magnify this with its 3/day Crushing Despair to afflict not only its host, but everyone around them with a further -2 to all d20 rolls and damage rolls.

Even if they succeed against the Ennui, the Horla isn't done with them. It can use Suggestion at-will, a powerful tool for assuring victims never stray from the paths it sets out for them while also steering away anyone that could possibly help them (or take them away from the Horla for one reason or another), and if you're wondering how a creature that only speaks Aklo can use Suggestion and other language-dependent spells without needing Tongues, that's because it has pseudo-Tongues: Horla have 100ft of telepathy at all times, but any creature that responds to their telepathic communications--no matter how brief the interaction--opens their mind for the creature to Absorb Language, the thing instantly learning how to speak, read, and write every language they know for 24 hours. This brain parasitism does not in any way harm the "victim" to begin with, but it DOES mean that they no longer have a layer of defense against the Horla's mind-bending magic.

Usually content to alter its host's behavior to suit its whims, things get so much worse when a Horla starts getting creative about using its Suggestion and 1/day Charm Monster to affect other people around them, turning friends into enemies or worse, ambivalent bystanders as the host breaks down from the stress of their lives slipping out of their fingers. They may begin to think that the voice they hear truly is some part of their own mind, especially when it begins to tell them to get some form of revenge on everyone who just isn't helping them.

The most dangerous spell in a Horla's list is its 1/day Dominate Person, a spell it will employ when its victims prove too resilient or who immediately note that something external is deeply wrong and try to seek help. Such victims find their bodies the playthings of the deeply misanthropic invader as it forces them to sabotage their own lives and relationships without their input. Never destroy, but sabotage, carefully wording its commands to prevent them from bucking off its control entirely and maximizing potential catastrophic domino effects. Given that it's already prompted to ensorcel victims in their sleep, a Horla can Dominate a sleeping victim and allow them to live their lives as normal right up until it senses an opportunity to ruin them, letting it save its spells for other people to prevent them from doing anything to save or stop its victim as they perform some terrible act.

Even worse, the Horla have Command Somnambulist, an ability that lets them issue commands to Dominated victims even while they're asleep, forcing them to sleepwalk to fulfill the orders. Any creature commanded in this way has up to 4 hours of their memories of being controlled erased when they awaken fully, an insidious ability that allows the Horla to mask the Domination if it wishes to let their playthings continue to think they're fully in control of their actions... and allows them to plead tearfully and truthfully to authorities that they have no idea what happened last night, that they couldn't have possibly done this terrible crime, that something isn't right.

I want to close this off by saying that Horla are easily unmasked and dispatched once they're caught, but that would be a lie. Greater Invisibility is an incredibly powerful spell on its own, let alone when it's permanent, and if the Horla believes it risks being spotted, it will likely elect to stay far away from its victim. It has Status to keep track of them every day, and the Dominate can reach them no matter where they are, so it can jump in whenever it's "needed" while hiding far out of the prying eyes of anyone that could possibly see it. Forcing one into combat is a task unto itself, and keeping it in combat even moreso as they can fly at 30ft/round, issue pestering Suggestions, Charm the weakest-willed party member, or knock someone out of initiative order with a 1/day Deep Slumber.

Stripping away its invisibility with Glitterdust or similar is the most important step to beating it, because without any way to track or accurately attack an invisible target that can freely attack and spellcast back, the battle is over without some supreme luck... especially since the Horla has full immunity to Fire and fear effects, preventing the most common AoO effects at low levels from damaging or affecting it at all. It also has DR 5/Magic and slashing, which goes a long way to protect it from mundane weapons that actually manage to hit it. Much like actual depression, it's hard to finally overcome and often requires outside intervention from friends, loved ones, and hired help (adventurers)... and even when you do, the damage it's dealt to your reputation and life may still take a while to recover from. But hey, at least in this case, it can be beat to death with a sword!

You can read more about them here.

[splitster]

answering more POM WRAITH au/Pingo asks!!

featuring: biology questions, creatures, dingo (unfortunately), and more!! check it out ↓↓

she does need sleep! she doesn't need to sleep as often as people, but she's a little wraith and she needs to snooze every like... i dunno. three days? sure, let's go with that.

although in the first few days of her being on PNF404, i could see her getting bored one night and poking around her crewmate's rooms to see what they're doing (spoilers: they're all just sleeping). in the morning after, dingo talks about a very bizarre dream he had with a specter watching him sleep! everyone dismisses it as the ranger having some weird sleep paralysis, but pom's sweating at the table thinking about how she should be way more careful if she does that again.

this ask did inspire me though, i'll probably make more art explaining how she works sometime later hehe...

that'd be scary... although, if there's anyone incentivized to wraithify olimar, it'd probably be the plasm wraith! that golden goo is really fond of him, and they'd love to make olimar just like them

WAHH THANK YOU!!! if they ever dated and got married they'd be able to save on a dress! hehe

she might look kinda scary but she's a sweetheart!! pom would genuinely struggle to make herself hurt humans. if there's a beast threatening her crew though -- that thing is mince meat!!

WAAAHHH THANK YOU!! it's definitely a challenge to make it fit with the other wraiths but still be unique... it was fun to design though!!

IM SORRY i didn't get to your ask before i actually posted the full wraith design... there she is though!! HILAHERHLIAEERH

yes!! he's the first one to discover her secret. it'd probably happen on accident out on the field pretty early on when pom is forced to defend herself with no pikmin, but it's no difference to Oatchi -- pom is pom! he'd bark and give her helmet a lick, and when pom realizes her rescue pup isn't scared of her it's quite the relief...

i have art of oatchi and wraith pom i'll be posting later!!

WAHHH... this is cute i like this hehe!! dingo sees those striking X eyes and still falls in love!! GRRRR i must draw more pingo now...

AUGH.... OK!! more pingo on the way then boss 🫡 (i do appreciate it though lmao)

she doesn't need to eat human food, but she does need to consume living creatures for biomass! human food is definitely delicious and she very much enjoys things like chocolate or hot coco, but to sustain her form and keep up energy she has to go for creatures

i'll probably make art for this later to explain better, but it is kinda like an amoeba -- after killing something, she can cover it and dissolve it with her goo. easy peasy!

Louie: You're a wraith? I thought you were just weird like me Pom: ... Louie: ... Can you go get creatures for me

pom is trying her best to understand human social cues and etiquette but it's a struggle sometimes!

i took psychic damage from this ask thank you for penis ringo💖

YES!!!!!!!!! there are so, so many ways that could happen and each one is hilarious... i've written out a few different scenarios, i should pick one to draw out... it'd be funny if dingo learns her secret but decides to trust her and keep it safe. but he's, you know. dingo. he's not good at lying, especially to his crewmates (and especially to his actual childhood friend of a doctor who was already very suspicious of the new blood!)

of COURSE i'm very abnormal about those two.... actually if y'all have scenarios you wanna see with those two, send more asks and i'll probably end up drawing them lol

that's actually a really good question! i haven't thought too much about how her full wraith would visually change, but if she ate enough and got stronger i imagine she'd finally be as big as the other two. she'd probably gain more wraithy abilities and attacks! trying to take down a powered up full wraith pom would be a very difficult fight, even for those with the best dandori skills and a full squad of pikmin

Pom: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Shepherd: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Collin: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Dingo: I can't let anyone find out my secret... Yonny: this is gonna be fun Bernard: (doesn't care if people find out) Russ: (doesn't care if people find out) Oatchi: bark

[melanieph321]

Do you have any Josko Gvardiol fanfic coming soon

Of course!

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 5)

Joško Gvardiol - Not Romantic

+18

Summary - Reader wants Joško to be more romantic. Unfortunately, he listens to her.

Enjoy 💞

He wasn't the date night kind. Nor the surprise you with flowers kind. Joško was simply the hug you from behind kind while whispering filthy promises in your ear. But would it really kill him to be a tad more romantic?

"Yes." He answered.

"It would?"

The two of you were just about to go to bed after yet another hectic day, making the timing of your question utterly bizarre to Joško.

"Y/N, what does it even mean to be romantic? Am I not romantic?"

"No Joško, you are not. Slapping me in the ass in the grocery store a mids the dry goods, does not count for romance. I want flowers and perhaps a more gentle approach to our love and affection for one another. Is that too much to ask for?"

Joško seemed puzzled, his bushy eyebrows low on his forhead. "So you want me to be gentle....in bed?"

"Ugh!" You sighed, roughly uncovering the duvet, tucking yourself into bed.

"Oh, come on baby. Don't be like that." Joško went on to dim the lights in your room before joining you in bed. He reached for you under the covers, however you refused him by shifting to lay on your side.

"If romance is too much of an ask and effort for you, I don't really see the point with us being together."

Joško stiffened with your words, the silence that followed a bit nerve-wracking. However, you stood your ground and fell asleep convinced that this was the necessary change that would sustain your relationship.

The next morning you woke up in bed alone. Joško had left for an early training session, however, his early endearments still tickled your ear. "I'm sorry that I'm not enough for you. But don't worry, I'll show you."

It broke your heart that your argument last night resulted in Joško feeling like he wasn't enough for you. That was never your case in point. You were just demanding a bit more sensual awareness from your boyfriend. What else could you have said that would've made him understand?

"Babe, I'm home."

"Joško?"

A whole day had gone by since you last saw your boyfriend, and being off from work definitely didn't mend your anxious mind. You spent the day cleaning your apartment while waiting for him to come home. Seeing Joško standing in the door, flowers in one hand and takeout in the other, instantly melted your heart.

"Oh, baby. Are those for me?" You approached him where he stood, accepting the flowers that were handed to you.

"You told me to be more romantic, didn't you?" He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. However, a deep growl escaped his mouth as the kiss naturally deepend.

It took Joško everything not to escalate the situation by stripping you of your clothes right then and there.

"Dinner." He drunkenly rumbled, dragging his nose along the skin of your collarbone. "It might get cold."

"Right, dinner." You were slurring on your words, perhaps as infatuated by your boyfriend, who set his pride aside to give you what you wanted.

It turned you on.

Extremely.

"So, how was your day?" You asked, happy to sit across from him, the man of your dreams, sharing takeout dinner from that Croatian restaurant that you both loved.

"It was good baby. How was yours?"

"Good, just good."

"Great." Joško chuckled, returning to the plate on his food.

It dawned on you as silence fell, that your heart was beating fast and your palms were turning clammy with sweat. A fever, first came to your mind. However, as Joško got up to clear your plates, you sat back and watched how his muscles worked when he gloved up to scrub the dishes. His biceps swelled with every movement, slowly fueling your not so romantic thoughts.

"Baby?"

Strucked by how horny you were, you shook your head in hopes of calming your filthy mind that told you to fall down onto your knees and please your man. "Yes, honey?"

"I'm gonna take a quick shower. Do you wanna watch a movie when I return?"

"Erm, sure. Yes. A movie sounds great."

"Great. Pick whatever movie you want." He winked, disappearing into the bathroom.

You fanned yourself at the thought of him naked in a shower. Without you. "God, Y/N. Get yourself together." You were acting like a timid school girl. After the arguments of last night, here you were ready to beg Joško to run you over like a locomotive.

No.

You had to remain resolute. If Joško could make tonight about romance, so could you.

While your boyfriend kept busy in the bathroom you took it upon yourself to light some candles, pop some popcorn and set up the living room for a cozy movie night.

Just as you returned from the kitchen, Joško stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"Good, you're ready." You said, setting down the bowl of popcorn.

"I am." He smiled. "Are you?"

"Me?" You followed his gaze set on your body, realizing that Joško was referring to your not so cozy clothes. "Oh, right. I'll be right back."

By the time you returned to the living room, wearing a sweater and shorts, Joško lay on the couch, legs spread and the remote weighing in his hand.

"Are you ready for a movie night?" You smiled.

Joško's arm slumped at the sight of you, his eyes wondering freely to your braless chest and your low cut shorts. By now he should have commented on how hot you looked, or how he wanted you to sit on is lap. Face, if he was feeling kinky. However, Joško said nothing, innocently beaming at you with those dark eyes. "Ready." He smiled, inviting you to join him on the couch. You did so, snuggling up to his warm body where you eventually fell asleep as Batman fought the Joker on TV.

You woke up towards the end of the movie, however, Joško's grainy voice whispering in your ear. "I hope you liked the flowers."

"Mmm. I did baby. I really did." You hymnd. "Remind me to put them in water before we go to bed."

"No need." He said, his hand slowly traveling up and down your back. "I already did it for you."

Your eyes peered open, meeting your boyfriend's loving eyes. His gentle gaze that had no desire to fuck you sensless on this very couch.

God, what have you done to your man.

"Joško?" You raised your head from his shoulder.

"Yes, baby?"

You were lost for words. He was perfect. The man of your dreams. A curly haired beast. He was perfect just the way he was, romantic or not. "I love you." You squealed.

Joško's gaze softened, his eyes searching your face. "I love you too."

"Please, fuck me." You sighed. "Hard, not gentle."

He grinned. "As you wish baby. As you..."

He didn't get to finish that sentence. You were all over his ass before he could open his mouth and utter another word.

You got flipped to lay on your back, Joško's hands roaming freely under your sweater. Your chest arched into his open palms. A loud moan escaping your mouth as Joško went to nibble your ear with a nip of his tounge, the smell of him uncovering your desire for his body, his cock, that should be deep in your mouth by now.

"Calm down baby." He chuckled roughly. "Don't you want me to take my time with you? To be gentle?"

"Fuck, no."

Joško's laughter drummed in your ear. He then lowered himself so that his head was set between your legs.

Your body stirred below him, eager for his hands to get rid of your shorts. Joško did so with the most taunting of smiles, licking his lips once he discovered that you weren't anything underneath, making this so called romance easy for him.

"Fuck Y/N, you taste amazing."

"I do?"

You watched him dip his head back between your legs, tasting you in a way that contracted every muscle in your belly. Your head fell back with the way his tounge circle your clit, playfully yet eager.

"Mmm. So fucking delicious." He groaned, his hands squeezing your ass, raising your hips towards his gaping mouth.

"God, Joško."

It was unbearable.

He was unbearable.

Unbearably romantic in his own way.

As Joško continued to drain you of your senses of the world, you came to the conclusion that romance was indeed an important part of a healthy and sustainable relationship. Your relationship, however, was fine just the way it was, with your boyfriend knowing just the right way to please you.

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

(DAY 4)

[river-in-the-woods]

i have a similar situation - i'm struggling to make my own correspondences, and i'm trying to draw from my pagan practices as well as my ancestral asian practice. i'm having a bit of difficulty with systematically going through a small dictionary, but maybe this can provide some ideas (and of course, if you have any critiques, i'm totally open to that as well!)

I usually just pick up any reference book and choose whatever I like the sound of and can get my hands on. I have a copy of The Encyclopedia of Natural Magic by J.M. Greer which I use a lot because it has minimal tangential waffle and is neatly laid out. I like Llewellyn's Charms, Spells and Formulas for the same reason.

For culturally relevant things, I like chinasage which has a symbol index of various flora and fauna. I'm not aware of similar resources for other parts of East Asia, apologies.

While I do think that different materials are endowed with particular virtues, I also think this is another area of magic where people get a little obsessed with categorisation.

It's not like Pokemon where lavender has +10 sleep magic points and chamomile has +12, or roses are exclusively for love and attraction and black pepper is only for cursing and banishing, and so on... It's a little more like cooking where there are many possibilities of creating a satisfying meal and yet it still depends on the individual tastes of who's partaking in it.

Cypress, yew and asphodel are strongly associated with the underworld; mugwort and wormwood are associated with night-time and dreams, but these plants will still die without the light of day. Sunflowers and oranges are very solar, but they still have roots that reach into the earth to anchor them. Chilli peppers are incredibly fiery, but they still die without water. Yarrow is for youth, love and beauty, except when you're allergic to it.

Every herb is a herb for protection, and wealth, and attraction, and fertility, and banishing – and so on, because every plant has its own strategy to survive, thrive and proliferate.

(And that's just plants, not even touching on the properties of minerals, animals, elements, colours and so on.)

They do have their specialisations, yes, and I wouldn't use mint to call on the element of fire, nor would I use coffee beans in a sleep spell... What I'm trying to say is: they're all multi-faceted, so set aside the reference books now and then, and just observe and make connections intuitively.

Reference books might tell you that basil or cinnamon or citrus (or whatever) have wealth-drawing properties.

But grass, plain old common grass, completely dominates the greenery of the earth. Crops like rice, wheat, barley and corn are staple foods that support the world's population. And dandelions, with their solar and ouranic qualities and how quickly they proliferate across an open field, are oft overlooked.

These never get listed in books, yet their literal and symbolic powers are undeniable.

Put these – grass seeds, rice grains and dandelion seeds – into a wealth working with a simple prayer. "Bless me with as much wealth as there are blades of grass on this earth, as there are grains of rice that sustain humanity, as there are dandelion seeds that fill the air in spring."

Correspondences are only part of what makes magic work. There's also your own ability and experience, the spirits you call and the relationship you have with them... I strongly favour the relationship part because reference books become less and less important, when you can just ask and the spirits will tell you what to use. Or even better when you don't have to do a spell at all, because you have spirits to take care of it in exchange for some cake.

It took me a long time to open myself up to receiving that kind of inspiration, but... honestly, don't overthink it. You know a lot of correspondences already because you interact with the world every day.

Good luck 🌿

[arxims]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᵀᴴᴿᴱᴱ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader

genre/au : a lot of angst, smut, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, violence.

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, red flag Jungkook, psychopathic behavior red flag behavior, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, unprotected sex, cumming, teasing, commitment issues.

Rating : only suitable for mature readers

Word count : 5.5 k

| MASTERLIST |

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"Why the sudden urge to quit, huh? Seems like a rash move to me," Yoongi quipped, pushing the resignation paper across the fancy desk towards the blond guy in front of him. Jimin let out a sigh, meeting Yoongi's gaze. "I've had it, Hyung. I want a normal life. A cozy apartment, a regular job that doesn't involve guns and gore. Maybe a girlfriend, marriage, kids - the whole shebang. That's the dream, Hyung. I'm out," he said, twirling the pen in his hand before gripping it tightly.

Yoongi leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Hey, it's your call, Jimin. I just want what's best for you. But hey, if you ever change your mind, the top spy spot will always have your name on it," he said, giving Jimin a knowing smile. Jimin grinned back, but deep down, he knew he was losing a top-notch spy. Yoongi could see it - Jimin was ready to leave the spy life behind.

As Jimin hesitantly signed the resignation letter, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. It felt as though he was betraying Yoongi, his steadfast companion through thick and thin. Despite Yoongi's belief that it was for the best, allowing Jimin to forge a new path towards a semblance of normalcy, Jimin couldn't shake the feeling of abandoning the one who had been his guiding light.

Born into an abusive family, his early years were marred by tragedy and cruelty. At the tender age of six, he lost his biological father to cancer, only to have his mother remarry a callous drunkard who harbored an animosity towards Jimin. Enduring verbal, physical, and emotional abuse from his stepfather who lacked mercy, Jimin led his fucked up life until the very teenage. Despite the torment he endured, Jimin's mother remained silent, complicit in the suffering inflicted upon her own child.

Growing up in the oppressive environment of his abusive household took a heavy toll on him. Each day became more unbearable for Jimin until one fateful moment, at his 15, when he reached his breaking point. In a desperate act of self-defense, he found himself in a harrowing situation where he had no choice but to defend himself by stabbing his father multiple times. Overwhelmed by fear of the consequences that awaited him, he made a decision that would alter the course of his life forever.

With nothing but a few meager possessions to his name, Jimin made the difficult choice to leave behind his hometown of Busan and run away to Seoul. Arriving in the bustling city, he found himself without a place to call home, no family to turn to, and faced the harsh reality of severe food deprivation. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, driving him to scavenge for scraps in dumpsters just to survive. It was in these dire circumstances that Jimin realized that the only way to sustain himself was through theft.

Embracing his newfound role as a local street pickpocket, Jimin honed his skills with each passing day. As he made a habit of targeting normal pedestrians, he became a professional at it. That's when he set his sights on a young man in his, probably eighteen, assuming him to be an easy target. However, his attempt to steal the man's wallet swiftly went to vain when the man whose keen perception and quick reflexes caught Jimin off guard. The encounter served as a stark reminder that not everyone was as oblivious as he had assumed.

Instead of immediately turning Jimin over to the authorities, he made a conscious decision to delve deeper into Jimin's background. He took the time to understand Jimin's troubled past and empathized with his struggles. Min Yoongi felt compelled to extend a helping hand to the vulnerable teenager. He went above and beyond to secure a safe haven for Jimin, enrolling him in a local school and providing him with a place he could finally call home. What else can a simple delivery man could do?

Before leaving for his military service, Yoongi made a final visit to Jimin, leaving a lasting impression on the young man. When Jimin eventually reunited with Yoongi after his military service, he was met with a transformed individual driven by a deep determined decision. Yoongi was determined of establishing an organization dedicated to eliminate criminal activities - the clandestine Black Ops Syndicate.

Recognizing Jimin's adeptness at thievery, Yoongi saw beyond his past activities, and envisioned a skilled spy in the making. With his charming demeanor and persuasive skills, Jimin possessed the ability to seamlessly blend in with his surroundings, and make it impossible for others to pinpoint him bring the red imposter among them. It made him an invaluable asset to the organization as the clandestine organization grew successful in dismantling criminal networks from within.

Jimin had been a steadfast presence since the early days when Black Ops was nothing more than scattered remnants of a covert operation. Departing from the organization left him grappling with feelings of betrayal, a weight he carried heavily on his shoulders.

In the aftermath of his departure from Black Ops, Jimin started on building a new life for himself. Despite the distance, he maintained regular contact with Yoongi, making a point to visit him often. Then he stumbled upon an opportunity at Kang Industries, a chance he saw as a promising new chapter.

Little did Jimin realize that his decision to join Kang Industries would serve as a fateful turning point, leading him back to a very world he stepped himself out.

The car eventually came to a halt in front of Jungkook's personal apartment, its tires rolling slowly as it made its way into the garage that was directly connected to the basement of the building. The clock was nearing 1 am, the late hour casting a shadow over the scene. Jungkook stood by, waiting patiently for the car to settle in its designated spot in the garage. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black sweatpants, the hood of his attire pulled up, giving him the appearance of a stereotypical hacker.

"You've early than I thought," Jungkook remarked casually, his attention fixed on the driver whose identity remained a mystery to him at that moment. All he knew was that he was engaged in conversation with someone. Suddenly, Jimin emerged from the vehicle, still clad in his work attire, a sight that elicited a surprised expression from Jungkook.

"Jimin?" Jungkook exclaimed, his steps quickening as he made his way towards the car door where Jimin stood. A soft chuckle escaped Jimin's lips in response to Jungkook's reaction.

"I thought you left Black Ops. Done with all the gore," Jungkook inquired, his curiosity piqued as he arched an eyebrow in Jimin's direction. "Indeed, I did," Jimin replied with a hint of bitterness in his tone, leaning casually against the car. "I spent three good years away, only to realize that I was working under these assholes who can't keep it inside their pants around children" he added, his words laced with a touch of frustration.

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise as he exclaimed, "Wait, you worked with Kangs?" The sudden revelation caught Jungkook off guard, a question mark forming in his mind. "Yeah," Jimin continued, "(Y/N) mentioned you. Seems like you've finally settled down with a girl, huh? I appreciate it." Leaning in closer, Jimin raised his eyebrows expectantly. Jungkook responded with a cold stare, their relationship hovering at a solid 5.5 on the closeness scale of one to ten. "Where's the target?" Jungkook inquired with a huff.

A proud expression adorned Jimin's face, silently boasting, 'I've still got it after three years of radio silence.' He popped open the trunk of the car, his gaze fixed on the man in black. Inside the trunk lay an unconscious figure, bound and squeezed into the confined space. "I could've just ended it with a bullet to his head, but Yoongi insisted I only needed to drop him off here. So…”

Jungkook, with an effortless grace, as natural as plucking a dry leaf from a tree, picked his victim. Without uttering a single word, he proceeded to lead the way to the basement, his movements purposeful and silent. Jimin observed his companion's sturdy figure as he casually remarked, "The sooner he meets his end, the more easy it'll be for him," eliciting a chuckle from Jungkook in response.

Oh little Kang. You're gonna pay.

You woke up with a satisfied smile, the duvets pooled around your naked form. Memories of Jungkook's talented mouth and hands all over your body the night before made you shiver with delight. You slipped on his dress shirt, buttons hanging open, and followed the tantalizing scent of cooking breakfast to the kitchen.

There was Jungkook, shirtless with those tempting abs on display as he flipped pancakes. You snaked your arms around his toned torso from behind, placing soft kisses along his shoulder blades.

"Mmm, good morning handsome," you purred.

Jungkook turned with a wolfish grin. "Well, if it isn't the gorgeous who had your wicked way with me last night." His voice dropped an octave. "I can still feel those perfect lips all over me."

You simply snuggled into him more, bathing in his warmth.

"Maybe you need a reminder of how insatiable you are." He remarked with a chuckled.

You bit your lip coyly as he ground his hips against you . "Is that a promise, Mr. Jeon?" You traced his defined abs teasingly.

"Count on it, baby." Jungkook turned around cupped your face for a searing kiss. "Now eat up...you'll need your energy for what I have planned.” but your hand had already found its way into his pants.

You felt goosebumps rise as Jungkook's low growl left him "You're just begging for trouble this morning, aren't you...my delicious little temptress?"

"Maybe I am..." you purred, nipping at his earlobe. "Are you going to punish me, Mr. Jeon?"

Jungkook growled low in his throat, gripping Your thighs and lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He pinned you against the kitchen counter, that wicked smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to you, believe me." His husky voice was pure sin against your neck. "But first...breakfast for my feisty little wildcat."

Stealing another scorching kiss, Jungkook then slid you back down to your feet with tantalizing slowness. He turned to plate up the pancakes, purposely flexing those back muscles you had raked your nails over countless times before.

"Start eating, baby girl. You're gonna need that energy..."

You felt a shiver of delicious anticipation course through you at the ravenous look in Jungkook's eyes as he handed you the plate.

You made a show of unbuttoning Jungkook's shirt a little further as you sat at the kitchen island. you knew he loved when you wore his clothes after lovemaking.

"Thanks for breakfast, hot stuff," you purred, cutting into the fluffy pancakes. "Though I seem to have worked up quite the appetite last night..."

You made sure to lock eyes with him as you slowly dragged your tongue along your lips to catch a stray droplet of syrup. Jungkook's intense gaze followed the movement, pupils dilating.

"You're playing with fire, kitten," he rumbled deeply, stalking around the island to lean in close behind you . His muscular arms caged your in as he nuzzled your neck hotly. "You know what happens when you tease me like that."

You shivered at his warm breath fanning your skin. "Maybe I want to get burned..."

you reached a hand back to rake through his tousled bedhead, eliciting a low groan from Jungkook. His hands smoothed up your thighs under the shirt as he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

"In that case, let me start stoking those flames, baby..."

You gasped as he crashed his lips to get you in a searing, all-consuming kiss. you clung to his sculpted back as the kiss quickly turned molten and needy…

Jungkook's hands roamed eagerly over your body as the kisses grew more fervent. the tantalizing swell of your breasts pressing against his bare chest.

With a low growl, he gripped under your thighs and lifted you up onto the kitchen counter in one fluid motion. you gasped at the sudden dominance, legs instantly winding around his narrow waist.

"You're playing a dangerous game this morning, kitten," Jungkook husked out, nipping along the column of your throat. His large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs teasingly. "I don't know if I can hold back..."

you whimpered at the hot promise in his words, raking your nails down his chiseled back. "Then don't..."

That seemed to snap the last thread of Jungkook's restraint. With a primal growl, he captured your shoulder in a bruising kiss, tongue delving past your shoulders to your breasts taste every inch of your skin.

you arched shamelessly into him, the hard planes of your bodies melting together. you tugged at Jungkook's sweatpants impatiently until he kicked them off, leaving him deliciously naked before you .

"God, you're gorgeous..." you breathed, drinking in the sight of his powerful form. One of your hands drifted tantalizingly down his rigid abdomen. "Take me right here, Jungkookie..."

With a smirk, Jungkook hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down your legs torturously slowly.

"As you wish, my greedy little wildcat..."

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Jungkook stepped between your parted thighs, trailing scorching kisses along your neck and collarbone. You shudderes at the erotic sensation of his hardened length pressed against your bare center.

"You've been such a naughty girl this morning," he growled against your skin, making you whimper. "Teasing me like that...you know what happens to brats who can't behave, don't you?"

You bit your lip and nodded shakily as Jungkook's hands roamed over the curves of your body hungrily. He tugged open his shirt that you're wearing, finally baring you fully to his smoldering gaze.

"That's my good girl..." He rumbled in approval. You flushed at the dark promise in his eyes as he takes in every inch of you.

Leaning in, Jungkook captured your lips in a bruising kiss that has you melting into him instantly. His tongue plundered your mouth skillfully while calloused hands kneaded and squeezed your breasts. You mewled into the kiss when his thumb over your peaked nipples teasingly.

Jungkook chuckled darkly at the desperate noises escaping you. "You're so wound up already, kitten...and we've barely started."

With one swift movement, he gripped under your thighs and tugged you flush against his powerful body, making you cry out at the delicious friction. Wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, you grinded shamelessly against his thick length.

"Please, Jungkookie..." You begged desperately. "I need you..."

A sinful smirk danced across Jungkook's lips as your breathy whimpers filled the kitchen. His large hands mapped scorching paths up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, thumbs brushing maddeningly close to your slick folds.

"Such desperation in those pretty eyes," he murmured huskily. "Does my gorgeous temptress yearn for me that badly?"

You shuddered at his rich timbre, frantically nodding in affirmation. The shirt you were wearing - his from last night - hung open indecently, allowing his heated gaze to roam freely.

"Use that sinful mouth, angel..." Jungkook commanded silkily. "Articulate those filthy desires for me."

Biting your lip, you forced the words out in a trembling whine. "Please, Koo...I ache for you”

A satisfied growl rumbled from deep in his chest at your wanton plea.

"Such honeyed, provocative words from my sweet temptation's lips..." He nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear. "

You cry out as Jungkook's large hands finally cup your bare breasts, thumbing over the peaked buds. Your nails dragged down the taut muscles of his back insistently.

With a dark chuckle, he rolled his hips in one fluid grind, allowing the velvety head of his length to tease your dripping entrance ever so slightly. You both groaned at the contact, hot and heady.

But just when you were certain he'll finally push forward and impale you on that glorious cock...Jungkook stilled. Your desperate whine was silenced by the rough pad of his thumb brushing your parted lips.

"Patience, my sweet seductress," he husked out, leaning back to take in your debauched appearance with hooded, smoldering eyes.

"Good girls learn to practice a little patience..."

You whined loudly in protest as he abruptly pulls away, leaving you naked and keening on the kitchen counter. The denial is sweet torture.

"No no, enough of those pretty noises." Jungkook tuted again, bending to retrieve his sweatpants from the floor. "I'm going for a run. Don't go anywhere..."

With a wink and a shameless squeeze of your ass, he turned on his heel and strided out, leaving you a whimpering, frustrated mess on the cold countertop….

It took you a moment to come back from cloud nine as you remembered something.

“ Kook, there's something.. “

He paused in the doorway, turned to fix you with an intense look over his bare shoulder. One brow arched as he slowly raked his heated gaze over your tantalizing form, still deliciously splayed and on display across the countertop.

"Oh?" His tone is a rich rumble of amusement and restrained desire. "And what piece of information does my gorgeous little temptress have for me?"

He stalked back over, movements fluid and predatory. Caging you in with his arms, He leaned down to graze his lips torturously along the feverish skin of your neck and jaw. You whimper softly, trapped between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving countertop.

“It's important” You looked up at his eyes

"Out with it, kitten," He murmured huskily against your racing pulse point"You know how I hate being kept waiting for what I want..."

On the other hand, you were caught between how you would put forward what you wanna tell him, between the pleasure he was injecting into you.

His large hand smoothed up your thigh possessively, fingertips brushing along the juncture where your leg meets torso. He grinned wickedly at the full-body shudder that wracks your trembling form.

“My parents. They wanna meet you. As my boyfriend. You know. To make things.. Official” You bit your lip, waiting for his reply

"Your parents, hm?" He drawled out in that low, gravelly timbre you found so irresistible. "Is that what's got you so worked up this morning, angel? Eager to parade me around like some pretty little trophy boyfriend?"

“Uh no that's not ahh”You were cut off by his dirty actions.

Slowly, Purposefully, his fingers deftly flicked open another button of the - allowing it to gape further and put your gorgeous breasts on display.

"You know how I feel about labels, kitten..." He murmured, dipping his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along the swell of your chest. "Why get so hung up on concepts like 'meeting the parents' when we could be exploring so many other delicious... activities?"

He punctuated the last word with a firm roll of his hips, letting you feel every thick, insistent inch of his arousal grind against your bare center. Your strangled whimper was music to his ears.

“Jungkook.. I.. Fuck”..

Looking back up at you through hooded lids, He flashed a slow, filthy smirk. "Unless...you'd rather spend the morning debating relationship formalities instead of having me bury my throbbing cock into that greedy little pussy and fuck you senseless?"

His words left you breathless, gasping for his touch.

With a teasing nip to the underside of your breast, He pulled back just enough to meet your lust-blown gaze, one brow arched expectantly.

"Well, princess? What'll it be?"

“Jungkook.. I just wanna make things sorted out. What's wrong with it?” You let out a whine. Yes you are selfish and you'll accept that you're selfish for wanting Jungkook all by yourself.

"Always with the relationship talks..." He chided, mild exasperation tinged his deep voice. "Can't you just live in the moment for once, baby girl? Bask in this delicious connection we've got instead of trying to stamp labels all over it?"

Reaching out, He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your face up, holding your wide, pleading gaze with a look of dark intensity.

"You know how I feel about being tied down," He rumbled silkily. "Getting tangled up in terms like 'official' and 'exclusive'...that's not my style, temptress. You should know that by now."

“Nothing is tieing you down. Kook. I just want you by myself”

His other hand smoothed along your thigh in a firm, possessive caress. He grinned at the shiver it elicited from you.

"But I'm not going anywhere, kitten. You and I..." He dipped down to ghost his lips across the racing pulse in your throat. "We've got something electric here, don't we? A special knot that ties us together far more divinely than any mere official label ever could." His fingers lingered on your nipples.

As you were left speechless, slowly agreeing to his words. But still. You wanted him to be more than your boyfriend.

Leaning in, He captured your lips in a toe-curling kiss, swallowing your whimpered protests. His tongue plundered your mouth with deep, filthy strokes until you were melting against him.

Eventually, he tore himself away, leaving you dazed and panting. He smirked at the dark, wanting look, in your eyes as he slowly straightened.

"So how about we table all that commitment talk for now, gorgeous?" he drawled, shooting you a heated wink. "Just keep being my little wildcat in the bedroom...and I'll make sure you never want for pleasure or attention outside of it."

Giving your inner thigh a final, lingering squeeze, he turned and started backing towards the doorway once more.

"Think about it while I'm out on my run, yeah? And be a good girl.."

The world is left in a state of utter devastation as the news unfolded before their eyes. “The co-founder and esteemed CEO of the prestigious Kang Industries, Kang Hajoon, who had mysteriously disappeared three days prior, was tragically discovered deceased. His lifeless body was unceremoniously discarded in a local dumpster, a grim and unsettling sight. The post-mortem examination revealed harrowing details of the heinous torture inflicted upon the victim, with the methods employed ominously pointing to a notorious figure known as The Shadow Reaper. The question loomed heavily in the air - was this the resurgence of the very killer who once held the entire city of Seoul in the grip of fear? And if so, the lingering mystery remained: where had they been for the past seven months?” The woman on the television screen delivered the distressing news as You, Jungkook, and Taehyung sat in stunned silence on the sofa, absorbing the shocking revelation. As the realization sank in, disbelief washed over You, for the name and image flashing on the screen belonged to none other than your boss, Hajoon.

With a sense of disbelief, You blinked twice, hoping against hope that it was all a terrible mistake.

This simply could not be happening.

"That name sends shivers down my spine, always," you whispered, your breath trembling. The mere mention of The Shadow Reaper was enough to evoke fear in anyone's heart. Taehyung sat beside you, his forehead glistening with a cold sweat, looking at you who was unaware that the very Shadow Reaper was seated next to him, his arm casually draped around you.

"He only goes after criminals, Kitten. You're safe," Jungkook reassured you in a calm, unaffected tone. He was certain that his little kitten was out of harm's way. She was the most precious person to him, and he would protect her at all costs. "The situation at the office must be chaotic," you remarked with a tinge of concern. Despite everything, at least the office provided for you. You glanced at Jungkook, a hint of sadness reflecting in your eyes. After all, he was your boss.

Jungkook immediately sensed the sorrow hidden behind your gaze, knowing all too well that the despicable Shadow Reaper didn't deserve to be the cause of your distress. "It's alright, Baby," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. The only solace he found in this situation was that now it would be easier to persuade you to resign.

“His testicles were mutilated. Along with his right thumb. His nipples were cut off as well”

The doctor carefully detailed the gruesome findings to the older Kang, Kang Seojoon, who stood in shock as he gazed at the lifeless form of his younger brother. Despite his stoic expression, a fiery determination burned in his eyes, fueled by a desire for retribution against those responsible for his brother's tragic fate.

"Mr. Kang?'' The. Coroner's voice broke through Seojoon's intense focus on Hajoon's battered face, revealing the extent of the brutality inflicted upon him.

"The most troubling aspect is... it's quite disturbing," the doctor hesitated before continuing, "We discovered shards of glass embedded in his body. It appears that a glass bottle was forcibly inserted into his anus and shattered internally, causing severe lacerations and internal bleeding. His eyes have been corroded by sulfuric acid. Furthermore, traces of his own vomit were found in his lungs. The numerous skin infections are a result of urine being injected into his veins”, Ahorrifying detail that points to the victim being the source of this vile act.

Seojoon couldn't bear to listen to the news. The brutal way his brother had met his end haunted him. Despite the questionable dealings his brother had been involved in, Seojoon harbored a deep love for Hajoon, a love that even surpassed his feelings for his own parents.

As he gazed at his brother's lifeless form, with closed eyes and in a pitiful, agonizing state, Seojoon made a silent vow. He swore to himself that whoever was responsible for this heinous act would face the consequences, even if it meant ripping out the mask of identity of the notorious Shadow Reaper.

"Sir, the funeral arrangements are ready," Jimin announced as he entered the room. Seojoon simply nodded in response before abruptly leaving the room. Jimin's gaze lingered on his deceased former boss, a look of pure hate and disgust evident in his eyes. Jungkook did what he promised. ‘If only he hadn't been so consumed by greed, he might have lived a little longer,’ Jimin thought quietly to himself, reflecting on the lives that had been destroyed by the asshole lying in front of him.

For all the lives he destroyed.

"Let's not beat around the bush. Why are you here?”

Yeonjun, sat with an air of mystery enveloping him. Leaning on the desk, his fingers intertwined, he cut straight to the chase, “I want to know who this shadow Reaper is." the words rolled off Seojoon’s tongue. He despised that name

Yeonjun Choi's name resonated within the shadowy corners of Seoul's underworld. Not a mobster, nor a criminal, he operated in a different realm - that of information. His expertise lay in selling secrets so obscure that even the divine would be in the dark. Each piece of information came at a steep price, a testament to its value. Yeonjun took pride in his unique skill set, knowing he was unrivaled in his trade.

Yeonjun's past was marred by a childhood spent as a lab subject, a period he would rather forget. Endless experiments had molded his mind, unlocking latent psychic abilities that intrigued even the most scientists. Fourteen years of Yeonjun had yielded the gift, the emergence of his psychic senses - clairvoyance. With these powers, he had managed to slip away from the lab's clutches, disappearing into the shadows where he found solace.

In due time, he came to the realization that his unique skills could be monetized. It was within the clandestine world of crime that he carved out a reputation as the go-to individual for valuable information, a name whispered among criminals and gangsters alike. Through these interactions, he grew accustomed to their ways.

"Aha... I was beginning to wonder when someone would inquire about Shadow Reaper. Here you are. Seeking justice for your brother?" Yeonjun rose from his seat, making his way over to Seo Joon. "How unfortunate. Such a cruel fate," Yeonjun remarked with a dry chuckle.

Seo Joon met his gaze with a steely glare. The callous laughter at his brother's tragic demise did not escape his notice. "Just drop the name and wait for the news," he uttered with a palpable undercurrent of vengeance in his tone.

Yeonjun's eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he leaned in closer to Seojoon, his voice lowering an octave to add an air of secrecy to their conversation. The dimly lit room seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment as Seojoon met Yeonjun's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. It was as if Yeonjun could read Seojoon's thoughts with just a single glance, knowing that the deal was as good as sealed.

After a brief pause, Seojoon spoke up, his tone confident and unwavering. "Ten million, all in white. Do we have a deal?" The words hung in the air, the weight of their agreement settling between them.

Yeonjun's expression turned serious as he issued a subtle warning, reminding Seo Joon of the repercussions of reneging on their arrangement.” You know what happens to people who don't pay my reward after information. You won't be sleeping” A threatening warn escaped him

Seojoon, true to his principles, squared his shoulders in response, a silent affirmation of his commitment to honor their deal. "The name," he stated simply, a sense of finality in his voice as the terms of their agreement were set in motion.

Yeonjun didn't hesitate a bit before speaking, his voice barely above a growl . "I'm not sure if you're familiar with him. He's not exactly a household name. Jeon Jungkook. Renowned as one of the most skilled criminal lawyers in the city of Seoul," he murmured, the mere mention of Jungkook's name causing a chill to run down his spine.

Seojoon's frustration boiled over as he retorted, "Do you take me for a fool, Yeonjun? Jungkook is a criminal defense attorney with a flawless record, even saving my friend from conviction. And now, the Shadow Reaper is targeting criminals. How on earth does that make any sense?" Only Yeonjun held the key to the enigmatic Jungkook's true nature.

With a sharp edge to his voice, Yeonjun countered, "And where is your friend now? Another tragic victim of the Shadow Reaper's ruthless killings. Don't be naive, Seojoon. Piece it together. Yes, Jungkook is indeed exceptional at what he does. He shields criminals from the law's grasp only to ensnare them in his own intricate web. That's his modus operandi," he spat out bitterly.

As the pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place in Seojoon's mind, a dawning realization took hold. It all began to make terrifying sense. Jeon Jungkook, the master manipulator. Your days are numbered.

“ But why target him?” Yeonjun, with a thoughtful expression on his face, pondered the situation at hand. Leaning casually on his table, he spoke in a calm yet authoritative tone, "I'm not one to dish out advice, but this dude is no walk in the park. He's got some serious firepower up in here” Yeonjun remarked, pointing to his own head for emphasis.” One little cunning bastard who could make anyone belive that sun rises in the west”

"If you want to defeat his foreseeing ass, you must target his vulnerabilities. Understand that he don't hold of any apparent physical or mental weaknesses" Yeonjun explained sagely.

Seojoon, intrigued by Yeonjun's words, turned to face him and said. “How can we make him feel the burn, make him regret his life choices?”

A sly grin crept across Yeonjun's face as he revealed his sinister plan,”He snatched your loved one, right? Well, snatch what's dear to him. This guy's all about his close-knit crew and attachments. There's that one special someone he can't bear to lose. cherishes above all else, one whose absence would shatter him," Yeonjun hinted, his smile growing more malevolent by the moment.

Seojoon, fueled by a desire for vengeance, was willing to go to any lengths to make Jungkook pay for his transgressions, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures such as taking innocent lives. Yeonjun's grin widened as he insinuated, “I think you already know the very name”

I know this chapter was shorter than usual. Since moonstruck chapters usually hold over 8k words and it's barely 6k here. I'm sorry that I can't write much. Also the story might end in five or six chapters.

I know, the Jungkook (Y/N) part is so cliché and cringe, I'm sorry it's needed for character understanding. I should've skipped that part. But... Hope yall enjoy, the cringiest one ever. Don't forget to drop your opinions and suggestions about the story in comment box or ask box. I'm more than happy to read the comments though I rarely get them, it keeps me going. I honestly thought about putting moonstruck in hiatus. But it's glad to know that some are waiting for new chapters. Love you allll

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ : @looneybleus @ttanniett

[autistic-duck]

It really sucks when you realize that a survivor's mentality is not a sustainable model for working full-time.

I can't go into every day thinking, “Oh, if the bathroom is occupied during lunch then I'll just wait to pee when I get home” because that is survival. I'm just surviving until I can get to a safe time and place. I am literally holding in pee for eight hours straight, feeling more and more pain because I can't figure out a better time to go to the bathroom.

I can't keep doing that.

Every day, it becomes, “If you can just sit still for a couple more hours, you'll get to move a little bit.”

Or, “if you can just hold in the tears until you can sneak into an empty room, you'll be able to make it through the day without anyone knowing you're upset.”

(Click “keep reading” to hear a more detailed explanation)

I started work this week, and I had completely forgotten just how awful it is to try and exist in a way that doesn't seem off-putting (or scary) to other people.

I had to do two eight-hour blocks of time alone away from home, which I hadn't done since high school, and I'm already realizing that my old methods no longer work.

I legitimately can't mask the entire day anymore. I can feel my joints groaning under the stress. My cells are feverish with the desire to stim. My mind is slowly melting under the fluorescent lights. The voices, the droning voices of professionals, buzz in my head and make no sense. I take notes, but the words look like no language I've ever spoken.

I can't keep pretending to understand what's going on.

But I'm also new to telling people that I'm disabled. The only people who know are immediate family and friends and the psychology clinic that diagnosed me. I want to be proud and confident, to just ask for and demand help, but I can't imagine anyone actually believing me. Nobody helps me when I ask for something because they decide it isn't important.

My sensory issues aren't “bad enough.” My social struggles are just “excuses to be rude.” My stimming is “attention seeking.”

Why did I choose education as the field to go into? I'm not cut out for this new “customer service” teacher mentality. I have to have good interactions with everyone all the time? Just so parents want to send their kids to our schools? How is that even possible? I have a hard time smiling at people who are nice to me, so how do you expect me to smile when someone is yelling at me for failing their student because they didn't turn in their work?

The education system is broken, and I'm just one disabled person who is just now realizing that their disability might actually stop them from keeping their dream job.

How do you advocate for yourself when you grew up thinking that self-advocacy was selfish and evil?

I literally just realized that I can't eat food or respond to greetings if I'm stressed. Showering used to make me feel relaxed before bed, and now it's the only thing preventing me from crying right before sleeping.

I want to learn Spanish, write in my journal, cook healthy meals, exercise in the morning, drink plenty of water, sleep comfortably at night, and spend time with friends who don't make me feel guilty for existing. I want to be able to go to the bathroom whenever I need to. Why does that feel impossible now?

If anyone has experience with advocating for a disability, especially high-functioning and heavily masked autism, I'd really like advice. Who do I talk to? What do I ask for? How do I explain my struggles and keep a job?

[aheathen-conceivably]

By the time the sun had fully risen, Josephine and Zelda were in Violette’s new room helping her to unpack all of her toys and dresses. The room was already outfitted with a small bed, dresser, and a dollhouse that was just like the one Violette had in New Orleans.

Violette was enchanted by it all, but most of all by the ornate Victorian dollhouse. She scurried about the room looking for her favorite dolls to unpack, her olive eyes shining as she tucked each one into the outfitted rooms rather than notice the peeling wallpaper or her aunt’s intermittent bouts of distraction.

Her own trepidations about the move had long been allayed by her mother and aunt’s reassurances that this was a land of magic. The Land of Enchantment, they had told her, the place where all her dreams could come true. How much of their hope and optimism was feigned for her sake as well as their own on that day, she was still too young to decipher.

Outside the window, Antoine was sitting with Gio on a truck that he had bought when he first moved out that way, smoking and watching the occasional Ford pass by the road that ran in front of their farmhouse. 

“So when you said find work, I should have known, I should have asked…stupid. Stupid and hopeful.”

Gio beat a pack of cigarettes between his hands, holding it out to Antoine as he spoke, “Not stupid, old sport. If I’m being honest, I should have spent the extra cents to tell you more, but part of me feared if you knew the whole truth none of you would come. Especially Jo. Just, don’t tell her about any of this, alright? It’s not like I’m trying to trick her or anything, I just know what it’s about to be like in New Orleans. A city full of dock workers with no goods? No jobs to be found and no food to grow? I’m only trying to make sure we’re safe, me and her and all of you. But I fear she won’t see it that way.”

For a moment Antoine’s anger rose for his sister, dragged out here away from her home not only by Giorgio, but by him too. He had seen her hesitation when he had first contacted Gio, but had told himself that they had few other options. Now, knowing that they had to sustain a lie just to keep her here was almost enough to make him turn around and pack his bags.

Then he thought of the way she had reacted when she had seen Giorgio yesterday, and how her own pride trumped even his own. He knew that Gio was right, that there was nothing left for them in New Orleans. But most of all he knew that Josephine would never have accepted his help willingly, and she would see his actions as a way to control her; then she would run, no matter how much she loved him.

But more than anything, Antoine remembered the last time he had left her alone and the means she had resorted to to survive. How could he protect her if she ran, if they had nowhere left to go? He looked toward the house where she was now playing with Violette, together with her family. Happy. Safe.

He quelled the protective anger growing in his chest and looked back at Giorgio, “But what about money, Gio? What about food?”

Gio took a long drag and a sharp intake of breath, “I tried for years old sport, years. I can get it to grow but it always dies before it fruits. I’ve been trading for goods and taking odd jobs, but they’re harder to find every damn day. We need to grow at least enough to eat. Enough to ensure that if the work dries up the land will give us something.”

He stared at his lit cigarette for a while before he threw it onto the ground, the dry sand immediately engulfing the remaining embers, “And if I’m being honest, I’ve got reason to believe the time’s comin’ soon. There’s migrants passing through here, Antoine, makin’ me think it’s about to get a whole lot worse. Okies, they call them. This whole business, it’s turned into a shitstorm. The farm prices tanked only months after I got here and now the land is worth less than I paid for it and the farmhouse combined. I managed to see it coming and take out a loan on it before it got too bad though, enough cash to get us through a few years. But we’ve got to move fast, make sure we’re secured before things really go south.”

Must find work, he had written. Antoine threw his lit cigarette on the ground next to Giorgio’s; now it all made sense. He had brought his family on board a sinking ship.

Previous / Next

[asexxxualauthor]

You know what’s an argument I haven’t heard yet?

So…Predathos.

The One Who Sleeps. The One Who Dreams. The Great Predator. The Hunter of the Gods.

…hunters don’t hunt for no reason. Some hunt for sport, but most hunt for food, for sustenance, for a need to feed. The fact that it’s been referred to as the great predator certainly lends credence to this fact…which means that for all its ancient, strange, and eldritch nature…Predathos is a living organism. Because only living organisms need to eat.

Now, Predathos has also been asleep for a long time. We don’t know exactly how long, but considering the fact that the records that mention it are some of the oldest in Vasselheim, I’m willing to put it in the ballpark of older than 10,000 years—especially given Matt’s notable affinity for Blood Moons and dark sorcerers who are bound to them.

Now, tell me, anyone here gotten real hungry? Like, absolutely famished—maybe you got so locked into your work or a hyperfixation that you forget what food is for a large portion of your day. Or, more bleakly, you’re low on funds and have to value other expenses over your own health. I know that I’ve experienced the first a few times, and the second only rarely, but it’s never fun.

In those times of intense hunger, you’re never really acting rationally, are you? You never go for the most nutritious meal, the most sustaining food—it always ends up being something quick, fatty, and junkish in nature. It’s not supposed to sustain you, it’s just to fill the hole your body feels in your gut, and you’re acting on base instinct to fill that hole as quickly and easily as possible.

So, once again, Predathos. A giant, angry eldritch horror that has to consume gods in order to sustain itself. And it has been going without that food for a long, long time. Once it has finally been freed from its prison, will it go for its preferred prey right away? The powerful, dangerous gods, who are still protected by a magic laticework so powerful it couldn’t break through on its own?

No. It’ll go for the junk food. The stuff that’s quick, easy, not as sustaining but just as filling.

And whoever is at ground zero of its release will be the first to go.

[hihigherdi]

A long time ago when Trump was first in office, I had a sustained two week anxiety attack, convinced we were going to experience a significant war and I had to be prepared. I’d just gotten a big bonus and I spent a ton of it on survivor gear - all of those buckets of rice, beans, dehydrated food, camping gear, solar lights - so much more. I made go bags for work, my car and home. The primary one was stolen when I first moved in here via a break in where thieves stole a lot of stuff people were storing in the garage. The backpack was in my parking spot - poof, gone.

I lugged so much of it here - over the years I’ve slowly simplified it but I’ve been a little afraid to let all of it go. it started this habit of buying extras - why not buy three Justin’s boxes of peanut butter packets even though I only need one? Why not have five ketchups so I never run out?

When R was here organizing, I *saw* it - all of the canned food that had expired, all of the stuff I was keeping in the pantry that I didn’t use because I didn’t even know I had it. She gently said “if you feel like you want to bake cookies, you can just zip over to the store and buy flour.” Part of it was never having enough food when we were little - we could afford it, my mom just never bought enough for us. It’s why I’d drive around on Christmas looking for snack food before all the kids came over. Granted, that could be my food insecurity speaking and my filter was grounded from that, it’s a very likely possibility.

Anyway. R is coming back for my last infusion bringing her BFF A who is an organizer and a professional chef. She’s going to organize so much of my stuff but the deal is, I only have what I really want to keep, consider getting rid of the extras of things I don’t need (including three spatulas, etc) and focusing on keeping what I love and use for myself every week instead of all of the imaginary dinner parties I throw in my head. So that’s what I’ve done today, after…11 hours of sleep? I’ve been slowly whittling it all down and it feels so great. I’m 90% done. It’s not as much as I thought but it’s just so good to let it go.

My surgery is tentatively scheduled for October 01, pending what happens with this biopsy on Friday. That feels lightning fast. My last chemo infusion is next Wednesday - I’m not going to lie, I’m afraid of it based on this last one, I was so debilitated by the fatigue, I had more hair shedding than usual, no appetite and the peripheral neuropathy was hard so I’m going to try to freeze my hands and feet during the infusion to prevent it. It has definitely lessened, thank God but it’s not gone away entirely. It can take a long time.

I cry so frequently these days, even writing that it’s the last one. I’ve held it all together for five months, and I can feel the emotional and mental reserves I’ve leaned on to that beginning to crumble. That’s probably good. Things are starting to get……thin when I’m sleeping. My dreams are wild and I heard repeated knocking three times last night. My cats were on high alert. I pit myself in a golden bubble and reminded myself that I live in a building where people could be knocking at other doors, not likely at 3am but it helped. I stayed up until 4:30am watching The Office and then slept hard until 9am.

I’m numb when I think of the MRI biopsy on Friday, two of my worst things happening at the same time is like a cruel joke (biopsies aren’t painful but just traumatic waiting for the results). I’m strong - I can and will do this. And then chemo, and then the surgery which completely freaks me out - I have a massive fear of “going under” - and then I’ll know what happens after those biopsies come back.

In talking about work, my oncologist recommend that I extend my leave of absence to at least March of next year. The neuropathy is concerning her as are my cognitive tests, and I think for a living. She reminded me how they have taken my body to the point of decline where the basics work but there’s a lot of damage. And the mental damage of all of the biopsies on top of that, she thinks I need time. I agree with her. So I’m going to pursue that, it means I live on a lot less and I don’t think I am guaranteed a job when I go back but I’m not worried about that.

[dying-brb]

desolation / an ellie x f!oc fanfiction / tlou universe

!slowburn !angst !subreader !domellie !fluff

tw: this is a heavy fic. mentions of sa, violence, gore, etc. 18+

(oc starts off 14 but only for backstory)

click if you haven't read chapter 1

chapter 2: 1900 words

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Natalie  -  14 yrs old  ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The leader of the cannibalistic cult that had captured me, David, began making regular visits to my cell.

Every morning. Every night.

Initially, I tensed at the creak of the door and his heavy steps echoing through the confined space. He would slip into my cell at dawn, before the sun even rose, and again at dusk as twilight fell. I assumed he chose these times to avoid detection by others in the community. If they were capable of consuming their own kind—people they had known, and enjoyed it—what regard would they have for their "Father" assaulting a young girl?

At first, I fought. I screamed, kicked, begged, bit, thrashed—anything to stay alive.

But after 22 days in this grim cell, my will to fight ebbed away. This wretched place drained my hope like a reverse transfusion.

The hope I once clung to was grounded in the possibility of a cure, believing my immunity could make a difference. But what kind of world would my immunity even be saving? A world where girls are confined like animals in cages? Where desperate pleas are met with cruel, heartless laughter? It was a world too far gone.

So I simply let go, releasing my tight grip on life. It seemed easier that way.

They fed me once a day, enough to sustain me if I had actually consumed what they served. Each time dinner arrived, delivered by a young girl much younger than myself, I refused—knowing full well what they were disguising as 'just venison.' I would gag and swiftly retreat to the farthest corner of my cramped cell, desperate to distance myself from the plate. I would sooner embrace death than stoop to this dehumanizing level.

David noticed my refusal to eat, observing my breath growing more ragged each day, my shirt hanging looser on my small frame. His displeasure was palpable.

"You know, if you don't eat, you'll just die. Starvation is a slow and miserable death. Is that what you want?" His eyes squinted in my direction as he spoke.

I chuckled weakly. I may not have had any fight left in me, but this defiance was the one thing I could still wield against him—something he craved but would soon lose.

"So? Let me die. I don't care. I won't have to endure you anymore," I whispered, my voice cracking, lungs wheezing with each word. A pained smile crept across my extremely chapped lips.

"I know they're tired of me taking up space in this cage. They want me gone. Your community needs food. But you don't want that, do you?" I scoffed, laughter tinged with bitterness. "You're deluded if you think you can keep me here forever. I'll die soon enough, with or without your buddies butchering me first."

Sometimes in my dreams, I glimpsed the light—the one they say appears before death. Yet, every time, just as I approached it —my hand reaching out desperately— I'd awaken to the cramped confines of my cell.

Disappointment flooded me each time.

Please. Make it stop. Let it end.

I silently begged myself and any deities who might hear my cries for help.

The sinister man—the false prophet—simply stared at me, his expression devoid of emotion.

"If you just eat, it doesn't have to be that way. You can survive this. You could join us. If you behave, of course."

Behave.

My fingers twitched at the word. He had used it incessantly during his visits. It pricked at my eyes and pierced my skin, much like the frigid air on my first night here. My stomach churned. Was it hunger, disgust, or perhaps fear?

"Never," I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks as he grinned, evidently pleased to provoke a reaction from me.

Now, death was the escape I sought out, death was my vengeance. He would no longer hold my life in his hands, and I would finally be free of him, this place, this cruel torturous world.

A young girl interrupted my thoughts, entering with dinner and placing it on the floor outside of my cell.

"Ravioli today. Mommy said not to waste it or you'll be punished," she chirped, nudging the plate so it slid beneath the bars of the cage. With a skip in her step and a faint smile on her lips, she hummed her way out of the room.

Punishment was reserved for disobedience, escape attempts, or failure to answer David and the others. They'd burn the soles of my feet to ensure I couldn't flee. It had been over a week since I last endured it. I hoped to keep it that way.

I didn't comprehend how they could subject a child to witness a prisoner like this: innocent, naive, and impressionable. This young girl bore daily witness to my battered body. I frowned, contemplating her upbringing, silently hoping for a better future than that of the other corrupted souls trapped here.

Aware that the ravioli came from a can, I crawled over on hands and knees, trembling as I ate the cold concoction with the spoon they provided. Normally denied utensils, I suspected it was the young girl's oversight. David remained oblivious.

"Good. You're eating," he remarked, rising and casting a glance in my direction. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it, Cupcake?"

I recoiled at the nickname. Throughout my time in confinement, they had never managed to pry my real name from me. Instead, they relied on pet names or simply calling out "Hey, you!" to get my attention.

I mechanically stuffed the ravioli into my mouth, despite my stomach already feeling uncomfortably full from days of only sips of water. Every bite was a struggle, but I forced it down, knowing I would need my strength for what lay ahead.

They left the spoon behind. It was a mistake.

After finishing every last bite, I slid the plate back under the barred enclosure and carefully tucked the spoon beneath my makeshift bed—a bundle of newspaper and a thin blanket, but enough to hide my newfound tool.

Tonight marked David's final visit. Tonight, I would make my escape.

—

The night sky gleamed through the window directly opposite my cage, a constant reminder of freedom just out of reach. Tonight, though, I vowed to step into that moonlit world, to feel the crisp outdoor air on my skin once more. Never again would I have to gaze hopelessly at that window.

David had left some time ago, granting me a fleeting sense of security to plan my escape. The night watch continued their rounds, checking on me sporadically. As the weeks of my captivity drew on, the intervals between their visits stretched longer. Perhaps they mistook my subdued demeanor for resignation, believing I had surrendered any hope of freedom. Maybe yesterday they were right, but today, they would be proven wrong.

Mentally calculating, I estimated the next check-in was approximately 45 minutes away.

"Plenty of time," I muttered to myself, retrieving the spoon from under my pillow. This small oversight, this spoon, was my ticket to freedom.

Pressing the spoon against the cage's lock, I heard the bars lightly clank as I leaned into them. Damn it.

I prayed no one had heard the noise emanating from my confinement; now was my moment to slip away unnoticed. This was my sole chance, my final opportunity before the end. I knew it. The lock securing the cage door wasn't intricate—a simple, rusted padlock with a cord wrapped multiple times around the door and cage. In another time, perhaps it had been a bicycle lock.

With determination, I wedged the spoon's end between the shackle and its base, bending it toward me, shaping it into the tool I required. Straining with every ounce of remaining strength, the spoon bent into a U-shape, exerting pressure on the lock's shackle. The metal groaned, protesting against the strain until finally, with a snap, the rusted shackle yielded, freeing the old lock.

I exhaled a long sigh of relief before slipping out of the cage, my limbs trembling with adrenaline, my mind racing. Glancing at the butchering table that had loomed in front of me for so long, I smirked and quietly seized a cleaver as I tiptoed from the room.

"David, you're dead," I thought to myself, the rush of adrenaline keeping me alert and steady. A frenzied sensation prickled my skin as I navigated the dark corridors, hunting for him.

Yet, instead of David, I encountered someone unexpected—the young girl who had dutifully brought me dinner every night since my arrival. The 9, perhaps 8-year-old pointed up at me, her finger trembling with what seemed like fear. "You're out. The Father won't like this," she whispered.

I gazed into her eyes, my expression pleading silently. I didn't know how to beg a child for my freedom, but I couldn't risk her revealing my escape either.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm going on a little adventure, okay? It's our secret," I whispered urgently.

"I love secrets! I hide them from my mommy all the time!" the little girl chirped, twiddling her fingers and scanning the room.

I chuckled softly, enough to comfort her nerves. "Me too. How about we play hide and seek? You hide, and I'll come find you," I suggested, seizing the chance to divert her attention and buy myself time.

I burned with the desire for David's reckoning, but survival drove me more.

The girl beamed, nodding eagerly and clapping her hands once before scurrying to a nearby corner, starting to count aloud. "Okay! 1, 2, 3..."

I moved cautiously past her, quickening my pace once I was out of earshot.

I swung open the front door of the building, bracing myself against the biting winds of Colorado's unforgiving winter. My hands instinctively wrapped around my body, seeking warmth that was elusive in the frigid air. This wasn't the liberation I had envisioned—feeling the cool breeze on my skin, my clothes fluttering in the wind. No, this was harsh, cutting against my weakened frame.

I recalled vividly the night when David had dragged me here, barely alive, teetering on the edge of frostbite and hypothermia. The memory made my skin crawl with the same chapped numbness as the icy winds whipped around me now.

In the distance, a horse neighed, its sound cutting through the cold night air. I pushed myself to move faster. Escaping on horseback would increase my chances of survival, offering a chance to find shelter far enough away from David and his followers, yet close enough to navigate through the wilderness.

Tears streamed down my face, turning to ice on my chilled cheeks. If I managed to escape on a harsh winter night like this, survival seemed improbable. Yet, the thought of taking control of my fate, even in such brutal conditions, ignited a flicker of hope within me.

With trembling hands, I finally reached the stable. I approached the horse cautiously, shushing her gently to signal I meant no harm, then stroking her neck to earn her trust before attempting to mount. The touch of the icy metal and the warmth of the horse's flank provided a stark contrast against the freezing air. As I settled into the saddle, the once extinguished fire within me surged back to life. This moment, seated firmly on the horse, marked the start of my battle for freedom on my own terms.