#i already made that mistake once with a pretty summer dress which i eventually actually found on ebay i think (2 sizes too big but whatever

[lyxchen]

Crying because a while ago I found these amazing amazing shoes in a TK Maxx and I didn't buy them and I've been regretting that so much because look at how gorgeous those shoes are!!!!

[thefanficdude]

The Winter Months: OCTOBER, Part 1

The wind blew through the barren trees, the only petals left from the previous season struggling to stay on their branches. The ground was no longer grass, but rather a medley of yellow, orange, and red leaves that fell from the looming forest above. The soft yet violent breeze was cold with a familiar change, yet it usually didn’t come this early. He knew this was all but good.

Wilbur walked back to the village, navigating through the masses of bark and stumps that were all too familiar to him. After all, this had been his home for his whole life. While on his way, the wind picked up and he adjusted his coat and hat to conserve heat. Leaves from the ground flew up into the air and created a swirl that could be described as a tornado of fall colours. The leaves wisped past Wilbur with the effortless force of the breeze. He watched them pass, admiring the beauty of the changing seasons while also knowing the winter would not be kind to him and his people. He continued to walk.

Eventually, he got to the town he called home. There were 8 buildings made of sticks, stones and mud, all designed to withstand the four seasons. 7 of the buildings were the houses of the 7 people that occupied this area, but the last building was the Community House, a place where they held meetings, discussed local issues, and planned their strategies for war (They were all generally peaceful people, but when threatened they were some of the best fighters in the land). Wilbur was making his way to the last, which was the biggest of the 8 and located right in the middle of the town. A voice stopped him before he could step through the door.

“Wilbur!” A young boy about 17 years old with golden hair ran towards him with a smile on his face.

“Tommy, right on time!” Wilbur said as Tommy slowed his pace and stopped in front of him. “I was just about to call a meeting. Round everyone up for me and tell them to meet here.” Tommy’s smile was replaced with a more serious tone.

“Is it about winter?” He asked. “We still have quite a while until snow comes. At least 8 weeks if I’ve been counting right.”

“You’ve been counting right,” Wilbur said. “But the leaves have fallen much quicker than normal and the air is getting colder every day, much more than it should.” Wilbur sighed, thinking about his next words. “Just get everybody to come as soon as possible, alright?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll get everyone here in less than 5 minutes” Tommy said dismissively.

“Thank you,” Wilbur stepped inside the Community House as he heard Tommy’s footsteps run through the village.

There wasn’t a single soul Wilbur knew that was more stubborn and determined than Tommy. Sure, these traits often lead Tommy to most, if not all of his problems, but they were also his greatest strengths. When something needed to be done, Tommy was always the first one on the case, despite being the youngest out of everyone. Wilbur admired that about him. He wished he was like that when he was Tommy’s age.

Wilbur looked around the Community House, taking in everything about it; the nostalgic smell of the wood and charcoal, the mural painting that went all the way around the four walls, the chilled air inside, the-

Wilbur suddenly realized how cold it was inside. He looked at the fire pit in the center of it all with frustration. It would have to be lit sooner this year, maybe even tonight. Of all the seasons, winter was the one Wilbur hated the most because of how impossible living conditions were, let alone the sheer vulnerability and complete inability to fight. Being the leader of these people, he had to reassure everyone that everything was going to be ok, but in reality he was always on edge during the snowy months.

Wilbur looked up from the fire pit to the door, where the first resident silently stood in the frame.

“Will,” The resident stepped through the door, struggling to get his giant wings through the average-sized frame. “Tommy knocked on my door saying you were calling a meeting. If this is another prank of his, it’ll be the third time this month.” Wilbur chuckled.

“Keeping track, eh Phil?” Wilbur sat at the head of the Community House, right before the fire pit and directly across from the door. He gestured for Phil to sit. He did, tightly yet effortlessly folding his black wings behind him.

“Oh yeah, been keeping track since he was 10.” Phil said. “He’s always been a trickster, but at some point I decided to start keeping count. It’s been keeping me busy.” Wilbur nodded with a smile. It was true.

Philza was the wisest person Wilbur knew, and that wasn’t just bias because Phil was his father. Out of everyone Wilbur had ever met (and he met a lot of people), Phil was the one that taught him the most, from how to hunt and skin a deer, to how to flirt with the ladies. Regrettably, he was teaching all this wisdom and advice to Tommy since Wilbur had heard everything he had to say.

“What’s the meeting for this time?” Phil asked after a moment of silence. Wilbur snapped back to reality and realized he had been zoning out. He looked at Phil.

“I want to give all the details once everyone is here,” Wilbur said. “But it’s about the coming winter.” Phil nodded in understanding.

“Ah,” He said. And that was all. Phil was probably the only one who understood the stress Wilbur was under, for he was the leader of this town before Wilbur was. Usually a position of power is given to someone else when the current leader passes away, but Phil didn’t want to wait until his deathbed to teach Wilbur how to properly and successfully lead an army and protect his people. Instead, he retired from his position to teach Wilbur everything he knew. Many people, including himself and Wilbur, would agree that he did a good job raising a pretty awesome kid and leader.

“Tommy said there was a town meeting,” A young woman with pink hair came through the door and sat herself down on one of the benches.

“Yes, I told him to round everyone up for me,” Wilbur said. “I’m glad you could join us, Niki. I hope I didn’t disturb your baking.”

“No, you didn’t disturb me at all,” Niki said. “I actually just pulled a batch of muffins out of the oven. I put them by the window to cool right as Tommy knocked on my door.”

“Ah, perfect! Make sure to ration some of those for winter.” Wilbur said.

“Winter?” Niki asked. “Isn’t that still two months away?”

“...Well-”

“What flavour are the muffins?” Phil asked. Wilbur silently sighed and looked at Phil in thanks. He always somehow knew the right time to insert himself into the conversation.

“Blueberry. They were the last I had of what we picked this year. Any longer and they would’ve gone bad.”

“Good,” Phil said. “With winter coming into our sights soon, it's good to conserve food as much as possible. Those blueberries will last a little longer in those muffins.” Niki nodded.

“You’ll have to split one with me after the meeting.” Wilbur said, smiling at Niki.

“Of course!” Niki replied. “I’ll make sure to set aside the best one for you.”

Niki was the sweetest and kindest person Wilbur knew. You’ll never meet a more caring soul. She spent most of her time baking and making food for the whole village. It was mostly her work to make rations for winter. If it wasn’t for Niki, everyone would’ve died of hunger during the first snow.

“And you remembered to put out the fire in the oven this time, right?” Phil leaned his elbows on his knees and adjusted his wings. Niki gave a nervous laugh.

“Yes, yes!” Niki buried her face into her hands in embarrassment. “How could I forget after nearly burning down the whole village?”

“Hey, I already said don’t worry about that,” Wilbur said. “It was an honest mistake. And as the saying goes, ‘we learn from our mistakes’.”

“Yes, I recall you saying the exact same thing on that day.” Niki moved her hands down and rested her chin on them. The three of them laughed as they looked back on that day, which then was nearly a disaster, but now was just a funny story.

“Hey guys!” Another man entered the building. His hair was brown and curly, and he wore a navy blue dress that went all the way down to his ankles. Over the dress was a grey, light-weight jacket.

“Eret!” Wilbur greeted.

Eret was the plant-keeper. She didn’t want the title of a farmer because it sounded like he did more work than he actually did. So, his title was made the plant-keeper. During summer, he grew plants that grew various kinds of food, and that was when the plants most flourished. But during winter however, Eret had to do everything he could to make sure they were at the very least still alive for the next summer. It was a miracle if one or two of the plants could make a single serving of food during the snow.

“Welcome to the group! Stylish as always I see.” Niki said. Eret looked down at the dress he was wearing and gave a quick spin. The dress's thick fabric flew into the air effortlessly.

“Ah, ya know. I gotta present myself nicely to the plants.” Eret said, taking a seat beside Niki.

“Speaking of the plants, how’s the greenhouse going?” Wilbur asked. Eret copied Phil and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Very well, actually! Just a few more weeks with fall temperatures and we’ll be all set for winter.” Wilburs expression dropped. He cleared his throat.

“Has Tubbo been helping you?” He asked.

“Yes,” Eret replied. “He’s been a great help, especially with his ability. It’s made things move along much faster.”

“Good.” Wilbur said, folding his hands on his lap. “Once Tubbo gets here, I’ll discuss it further. He’s the only one left besides-”

Tommy burst through the door arguing with a boy who looked about the same age as him.

“What the fuck were you doing Tubbo!?” Tommy yelled.

“I was trying to get into his house! Meanwhile you were trying to burn his house down!” Tubbo yelled back.

“Yes because all he does is sleep all day and Wilbur told me to get everyone!”

“You were going to kill him Tommy!”

“Hey!” Wilbur stood up and everybody looked up at him. Tommy and Tubbo stopped fighting and stood still. “First of all, stop arguing with each other! Especially in the Community House! This is not a place to be joking around, do I make myself clear?” Tommy and Tubbo nodded, but Tommy was more hesitant. “Good. Second of all, Tubbo, explain what happened.”

“I was trying to-” Tommy began, but Wilbur put a hand up to stop him.

“I didn’t ask you.” Wilbur said calmly. “I asked Tubbo.” Tommy looked at the ground with the same energy as a 2 year old about to have a temper tantrum. Wilbur looked at Tubbo.

“Well,” Tubbo started. “Tommy knocked on my door saying a meeting was happening and that he was put in charge to tell everyone about it. I asked if there was anyone else he needed to visit and he said George. So I offered to come with him, just because.” Wilbur nodded. “We got to George's house, Tommy knocked, but nobody answered the door. A few more knocks, still no response, and Tommy started getting... impatient.”

“I was not-!” Tommy tried defending himself but Wilbur gave him a stern look that made him stop talking again. He looked back at Tubbo.

“So I proposed we could calmly go inside to see if he was ok, but Tommy interpreted that as ‘use my ability to cause the most amount of damage I can get away with’. I stopped him before he could do anything.” Of course he did, Wilbur thought with a sigh.

“Thank you for controlling him, Tubbo,” Wilbur said, sitting himself down again. “You two can have a seat.” Tubbo sat beside Phil, and Tommy sat beside Tubbo. Tommy was angrily mumbling to himself. “And Tommy, could you do me another favour,” Wilbur said. Tommy looked up, still pissed. “Would you mind lighting up the fire pit?” Tommy looked confused.

“What do you mean? It’s still October. We don’t light the pit until late November.”

“I said what I said. Light it, and I’ll explain.” Tommy rolled his eyes but did as he was told. With a flick of his wrist, sparks and flame emerged from his hand and engulfed the few pieces of wood and charcoal that remained from last year's winter. It wasn’t much, but there was enough fire there to heat up the building to a good room temperature. Wilbur cleared his throat.

“As you all know, it usually doesn’t snow until December. Late November at the earliest…” Wilbur looked around the room and could already see people's faces change as they realized what was happening. It wasn’t as hard as telling someone the news that someone they know has passed away, but it was still hard because it meant telling your loved ones that just simply surviving will be a lot harder this year. Wilbur continued speaking.

“And, as always, I’ve been taking weekly trips into the deep forest to examine the natural changes of the environment. This time around however…” Wilbur looked to Phil for support. Phil simply took a deep breath and gestured Wilbur to keep talking. Wilbur did exactly that. After a deep breath, he continued.

“It seems like the snow will be coming a lot sooner than other years.” Everyone had different reactions, but they all had one thing in common: worry. Everyone started either talking to themselves or the person beside them. And, as per the duty of any good leader, he needed to reassure them that everything was going to be ok, despite all the odds.

“But, I’ve already created some plans of what we can do to make sure this winter is just as good as the ones before.” Everyone looked up with intrigued and hopeful expressions. “However, it requires everybody's effort and ability.” Everyone nodded in agreement, and Wilbur was now hopeful himself.

“Firstly, Tubbo and Eret, the people on greenhouse duty.” Tubbo and Eret straightened and paid close attention. “Eret, you said with a few more weeks, the plants will be strong enough to withstand winter. However, I don’t think we have weeks. I predict we’ll have snow in the next 5 days.” Eret and Tubbo looked at each other with a common thought. How are we gonna pull this off?

“Tubbo, your ability is Earth, meaning you are especially knowledgeable about different types of dirt, fertilizers, and more. With the little time we have left, I’m requesting you find something that will make the plants grow faster to be prepared by next week.”

“Yes sir.” Tubbo replied.

“Eret, with your ability of light manipulation, I need you to store as much light as possible, more than what you normally prepare. With winter starting earlier, we should expect it to last longer too.”

“Of course.” Eret replied.

“Phil, if it starts snowing before the plants are ready, it’s your job to use your air ability for as long as you can to keep snow away from the greenhouse. And if it’s also possible, see if you can keep a piece of the sky cloud free so we don’t have to use up the stored light source right away.”

“Can do.” Phil replied, stretching his wings back.

“Niki and Tommy, I need you to scavenge for as much scrap food as possible. If you can find more ingredients for your baking Niki, even better. As I said before, we should expect this winter to last longer, so we need to prepare more.”

“Got it.” Niki replied.

“I have a question,” Tommy said. “By food scraps, do you mean like… dead rats and birds?” Wilbur sighed.

“Unfortunately, yes. But it will only be a last resort if we run out of our main rations.”

“Ugh, alright.” Tommy groaned. “Niki and I will be on the lookout for dead shit.”

“Fantastic.” Wilbur clapped his hands together and looked around the room. “Does everybody have a job?” Everybody collectively nodded, but Niki raised her hand.

“What about George?” She asked. “He isn’t here, so what’s his job?”

“Don’t worry about George.” Wilbur said. “Once dismissed, Phil and I will stop by his house.” Wilbur looked at Phil and he nodded. “Any other questions?” The room fell silent. “Alright, that’s that! Meeting dismissed.” Everyone stood up from their seats and started making their way to the door. Tubbo and Eret went to each other to discuss their job, as did Niki and Tommy. Wilbur and Phil were left alone in the Community House together.

“What do you have in mind for George?” Phil asked. Wilbur sighed as he got up from the bench.

“Well, because George doesn’t have an ability like the rest of us, his job will be a little easier, but just as important. He’ll be in charge of making sure the pathways and trails in the town and forest are clean before the snow comes. And when the snow does come, I’ll have him help shovel the snow off the roads.” Wilbur made his way to the door and turned to wait for Phil, who was only getting up now.

“Makes sense,” Phil said. “But why do you need me?” Wilbur and Phil started walking through the town.

“You’re aware of what my ability is, right?” Wilbur asked.

“Of course, mind reading. It was a big problem when you were younger, you know. I could never keep a secret.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Wilbur laughed. “But I’ve been noticing George has been missing more and more meetings due to his ‘sleep schedule’.”

“And you think it's not just that?”

“Yes.”

“But what else could he possibly be doing?”

“I never like to assume. I need more proof first.” Wilbur and Phil stopped in front of a house with red accents. One could say it looked like a mushroom house, a little home for fairies.

Wilbur knocked on the door with enough force that if anybody was sleeping, they definitely would have woken up.

“George!” Wilbur yelled. “Wake up! I got a job for you!” No response. Phil came up to the door.

“George!” Phil knocked harder than Wilbur did. Still no response.

“We need to go in.” Wilbur said. He turned the door handle, but it stopped with a sudden halt. “It’s locked.”

“Here, let me try.” Phil stepped in front of the door and took a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, his foot was floating in an open doorway. Phil calmly walked in. Wilbur stood outside in confusion for a moment, but stepped in soon after.

“George!” Wilbur called again. The main area of the house, which was the kitchen and living area, was empty. The only other place in the house was his bedroom. Wilbur slowly opened the door.

George’s bedroom was actually quite nice. A small, quaint room with shelves filled with antiques and found treasures and a bed with a red and white dotted blanket. The blanket was not flat though. There was something under it.

“George!” Wilbur went into the room and came beside the bed. Phil came through the door and watched. “George! How heavy of a sleeper are you, man?” Wilbur stripped the blankets off the bed. It wasn’t George under the sheets. It was a pile of pillows made to look like a human.

Wilbur looked at Phil.

They both knew.

~~~

George’s cloak caught on the barren branches as he ran blindly through the thick forest. He was used to having a trail to guide him, or a map at the very least, but not this time. The place he wanted to go was only marked as no-man's-land on all the maps he’d seen. He was headed in the general direction, but he didn’t have a specific route to follow. So blindly he ran, his cloak being wrecked and snagged by the trees around him.

Unlike the others, George didn’t have a power, or an ability as they called it. He was just a normal guy, and all he wanted was a life of luxury and peace. George always felt he was belittled and not taken seriously enough when living in Wilburs town. He was seen as the weak one. The useless one. The burden that others were forced to carry on their shoulders. So he went to the only other place he knew. To the people Wilbur constantly worried about. Wilbur was going to worry about George now, but not in the way of pity. For the first time in his life, George understood what power felt like.

It didn’t last long.

George stopped in his tracks when he heard a rustle in the bush beside him.

“Hello?” George said, creeping towards the bush. “Who’s there?” An arrow burst through the leaves, stopping only mere inches away from George’s throat. The person holding the bow emerged from the shrubbery, not taking his eyes off George.

“State your business.” The man with the bow said. George was still in shock from the life-or-death situation he found himself in, he was unable to speak. “Now!” He said. “Before I shoot this right into your throat!”

“Ok, ok!” George put his hands up for the man to see. “I’ve come to visit your leader. I have no weapons or ill intentions. I just want to talk.” The man slightly lowered his bow and looked at George’s face more carefully.

“...George?” Unfortunately, George was pretty oblivious most of the time.

“...yes?” He responded. A smile came across the man's face and he dropped his bow to give George a hug.

“George!” The man pulled away. “It’s me! Fundy!”

“Fundy?” George hadn’t seen Fundy since he was a small child. Wilbur would put George in charge of babysitting him when everyone else was busy. But now that he heard the name, George saw it: the fox-obsessed boy that could talk to animals. “Fundy! Oh my god! How are you?”

“Ah, well, surviving like everyone else.” Fundy said, picking up his bow again. “How about you?”

“About the same, I guess.” George said. “But I’m trying to look for a better place where I can live my life.” Fundy became skeptical.

“Did Wilbur send you? Is this some sort of way for him to get information on us?”

“No,” George replied. “Nobody knows I’m here, but nobody would care if I was gone either. That’s why I want to talk to your leader.” Fundy thought about it for a moment.

“You would have to be checked for weapons.” Fundy said.

“That’s fine.”

“You would have to be escorted by as many guards as they see fit.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Fundy walked George through the forest until they got to a town, but it was nothing like Wilbur’s. There were many more buildings, all of them bigger than the ones back home. They were made of concrete bricks instead of sticks and stones. It was better than George could’ve ever imagined.

A resident saw George and Fundy and ran towards them.

“Fundy,” He said. “What’s going on?”

“He’s requested to see the leader.” Fundy gestured to George. “I already checked for weapons.”

“And?”

“None, Technoblade. George said he just wanted to talk with him and nothing more.” Technoblade thought for a moment and then called for some more people. He looked back at George and Fundy.

“You may take… George, you said?” Fundy nodded. “You may take George to see him with two other guards. If anything goes wrong, it’ll go on your record.” Two other men came up beside George while Fundy took the front.

“Yes sir.” Fundy said, leading George to what looked like their version of the Community House.

It was a large building, possibly bigger than all of Wilbur’s buildings combined. It looked old and tested by nature, but it still held strong. Fundy, George, and the two other guards went in.

Large fire-lit torches hung on the walls inside the giant building, and in the center was a table that took up most of the building. Strewn on it were maps, weapons, and small bottles of god-knows-what. George didn’t dare ask what it was.

At the head of this table was the man George was looking for. He stood hunched over a piece of paper on the table with a quill in hand. Even without doing anything, his presence was the scariest thing George had ever witnessed.

“Sir,” Fundy stepped forward. “There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.” The man at the table looked up and straightened to get a better look. Suddenly what looked like a 4 foot tall dwarf was a 6 foot tall warrior. George’s throat tightened.

“Is that so?” With the quill still in his hand, he walked over to George. “What’s your name?”

“G-George.” He stammered out. The man with the quill raised a brow as he stopped in front of George, just inches away from him.

“You’re from the other side of the forest, right?” He stroked the underside of George’s chin with the soft feather which made George instinctively look up at him. “That’s a long way, especially for a one-man army.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. I haven’t come to fight. I have no weapons, I…” George swallowed as the man leaned in closer. “I’d like to offer my services to you.” George said.

“I want to join you, Dream.”

[language-of-love]

one summer night... (prompt from @jessx2231: sitting on the porch at night) | Summer Soft Series on AO3

.........

Some hellbeast of a bug buzzes his ear and he flails wildly, both desperate to not have it touch his face and not actually make contact with whatever the hell that was. He doesn’t mind walking home from the store, in fact relishes the solitude of it, but these flying monstrosities inhabiting this town can fuck right off.

“Did you just have a stroke?”

“Oh jesus fuck!”

David feels a year of his life vanish into thin air, both from fright and sheer embarrassment as that disembodied voice takes form in a very amused Patrick Brewer sitting on Ray’s front porch.

“Sorry David, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Instead of responding, David holds his finger up as he takes a few steadying breaths, eyes narrowing as Patrick’s smile just grows wider. Why does he have to have a smile like that? And why are David’s lips nudging up to smile back? Enough of that.

“Does Ray know you’re loitering out here?”

“He does. But, point of fact, I’m not loitering. I live here.”

Wait, what? He’s known this man for weeks now and he’s just finding out that he lives with Ray?

“Really?”

“Yeah, I rent a room upstairs. Sorry, I just assume that everyone knows everything about everyone in this town, so I never mentioned it.”

“Hmm, okay, just...processing this new information over here.”

Patrick chuckles in that warm, rumbly way that he does and David’s rogue stomach does a little churn. He’s not sure what to do about his body’s growing awareness of this little business man that’s dropped into his life, so he does what he’s been doing for the past week and ignores it.

“While you’re processing, I’m gonna go grab a beer. Wanna join me for a drink?”

He doesn’t hold back the minor cringe at the word “beer”, which Patrick sees and probably misinterprets, so he quickly speaks before the wrong idea can be formed.

“Do you have any wine?”

Patrick’s smile is back immediately and he nods as he stands and heads inside, leaving David standing there completely unsure of what he’s doing. He can’t help his anxiety from bubbling up question after question into the front of his brain. What is this? What does this mean? Does it mean anything? Of course it doesn’t. This is Patrick. He’s not interested in David like that. Why would he be?

“”Hey, can you…?

David’s pulled from his anxiety spiral at the sound of Patrick’s voice to find him on the other side of the screen door, hands full with their drinks.

“Oh, yeah, let me,” David stutters, quickly pulling the door open so Patrick can step back outside.

“I figured you’d want something chilled, so I went with Chardonnay. I hope that’s okay?”

“It’ll do.”

Honestly, his standards where alcohol is concerned has sunk so low since living here that he’ll drink just about anything, except Mutt’s moonshine. That’s a mistake you only make once.

Patrick returns to his spot on the stair and David contemplates what to do. He could stand here, awkwardly, or risk doing permanent damage to his white denim. He’s not sure which is worse. So he has no real choice to throw caution to the wind and sits.

It’s just past dusk and the evening around them is growing darker, Ray’s porch light and the lights from the motel down the block illuminating the vast nothingness around them. It’s oddly calming in a way. He can hear Patrick’s fingernail picking at the label on his beer, making him realize just how close they’re actually sitting.

“I feel pretty stupid that I didn’t know you were living here until now,” he admits.

“Eh, I hadn’t supplied the information either, so I guess it’s on both of us.”

Oh...wait.

“So, when you offered up your place for me to stay during the whole...lice debacle,” he pauses, allowing the full body shudder to pass before continuing. “You were offering up what, Ray’s couch, or...your…?”

The chuckle Patrick releases gets caught in his throat a little and it comes out more like a cough and when David looks over at him, he’s pretty sure there’s a little redness coloring those pale cheeks.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought that through.”

Hmm… Interesting. Or is it? David’s history of turning nothing into something is longer than a CVS receipt, so he’s mentally stopping that train of thought. Remembering his wine, he takes a long sip, cringes, and goes back in for another. It’s bad, but it’s cold and he likes the company.

“Luckily, that tragic chapter of our lives is over and we hopefully will never have to think about it again.”

“Cheers to that.”

Patrick tilts the neck of his beer towards him and David lifts his wine, smiling at the soft clink of glass against glass.

“So, Patrick, what else is there to know about you that I’ve neglected to learn?”

Patrick shrugs, but David spies his lips curving up a bit behind the mouth of his beer bottle, and yeah, that sparks some real curiosity about this man he’s obviously not given enough attention to.

“Nothing much, really. I’m just, honestly, really happy to be working with you at the store. I’m enjoying the challenge…”

“I’m a challenge?” David interrupts, his incredulous expression marred by his inability to fully wipe away his smile.

“The store is a challenge, David. You’re…”

He falls quiet and David arches an eyebrow, lifting his free hand to motion for Patrick to continue.

“I don’t know. You’re...you. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I...I like that, I guess? I never know what you’re gonna say or do next, so yeah, maybe you’re a bit of a challenge, too. But a good one.”

David’s a bit dumbstruck. He’s never had someone say those things to him in a way that wasn’t an admonishment before. It’s an unsteadying feeling.

“I’m glad to have made an impression,” he says quietly, quick to hide his face behind his wine glass and his feelings under another long sip that ends up draining his glass.

Patrick notices, because of course he does. He’s rather attentive.

“Want another glass?” he asks, and David’s thrown off again by Patrick’s open expression of hopefulness. But he’s going to head home. Another glass will lower inhibitions and the wall he’s constructed around his heart to stop himself from getting hurt by nice guys like this. Patrick won’t mean to hurt him when it happens, so it’s best to keep things professional.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Standing quickly, he waits for Patrick to stand with him, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, his broad shoulder propped against the side of the porch rail, smiling up at him in that genuine way that he’s mastered. He holds out his hand and for a second David freezes, unsure as to what he’s doing, but thankfully, quickly registers he’s offering to take David’s wine glass. Their fingers brush a little and the tiny hairs on David’s neck prickle his skin, but he’ll just pretend that it's from the warm summer breeze that’s surrounded them like a blanket.

It’s gotten a tad bit too cozy on this porch.

David’s a few steps away when he hears Patrick call out to him.

“Goodnight David.”

Smiling softly, he wiggles his fingers in a small wave before turning back towards the motel.

“Night Patrick.”

….....

The scratch of Patrick’s calloused thumb against the side of his neck feels so good that he can feel his body leaning in closer, pressing Patrick’s back harder against the porch rail as his moan of appreciation vibrates against their joined lips. Patrick’s free hand anchored in David’s back pocket clenches and their kiss goes molten, both of them delving deeper as if their mouths are performing all the things their bodies want, but aren’t currently able. The porch light is out, casting them in blissful darkness, masking roaming hands and stubble chafed skin, but David’s more than a little desperate to find some real privacy.

“When’s Ray getting home?” he pants into Patrick’s mouth, not giving him a chance to respond as he captures his lips again for another breathless kiss. He tastes of beer and pretzels from their short excursion to The Wobbly Elm, excusing themselves after only twenty minutes to go back out to the Rose Family car and fog up the windows, a move they will both be teased about forever by Stevie and Alexis who found them an hour later half dressed and dazed.

“Soon,” Patrick manages to whimper, “very soon.”

David has half a mind to drag Patrick inside and up to his room, but they’re both too worked up and he can’t emotionally handle Ray walking in on them, which he’ll inevitably do. It’s happened already.

Twice.

So, he does the last thing he wants to do. Pulling his mouth free, he angles his head enough to let his forehead fall to meet Patrick’s, indulging himself for a moment in the exhilaration of hearing Patrick’s breath heaving just as hard as his own. God, it’s intoxicating being wanted.

“You wanna sit for a while?” Patrick eventually asks and David answers with a tiny nod, made a bit awkward with their foreheads still pressed together. The laugh they share helps release a bit of the adrenaline and electricity, but David feels it spark anew when Patrick drags his hand into his lap as soon as they’ve sat down on the step.

“Do you have plans Sunday night?”

“Who would I have plans with except you?”

“Stevie?”

“We don’t make plans.”

“Right,” Patrick says with a smile, “well, I do, so can you add an overnight date with me to your very busy schedule?”

David’s smile widens at Patrick’s ears going pink, his inability to hide his blush even when he’s being assertive one of his most adorable qualities.

“Okay, but I can’t do Stevie’s again. Now that I know that she’s still sleeping with Jake, it’s all a little too...complicated.”

“Agreed. Some neutral ground would be ideal. Maybe one of the nicer hotels in Elmdale?”

David likes how that sounds. Leaning in, he runs the tip of his nose against Patrick’s temple so he can whisper softly into his ear.

“Somewhere with room service.”

“And late checkout,” Patrick agrees as he turns his head, quickly capturing David’s lips in a sneaky kiss.

It’s only minutes later when Ray finds them, once again caught up, with David’s hand trapped behind Patrick’s head and the porch rail, mouths kiss bruised and fingers grazing skin beneath hems and collars. By some miracle, Ray’s on the phone and greets them with just a knowing smile and a wave, quickly disappearing inside, but leaving the inner door open and efficiently, and undoubtedly unintentionally, ending their private moment.

Since they’re so close, Patrick walks him back to the motel, kissing him again against the door before mumbling “Goodnight David” against his cheek.

David’s “Night Patrick” is texted to him moments later, prompting Patrick to look back at him from down the street and blow him an exaggerated kiss.

…....

The condensation from Patrick’s beer drips down onto David’s wrist and it makes him shiver, the cold water a welcome contrast to his overheated skin. It’s a hot night, still in the high eighties past 8 o’clock and humid, making his thin t-shirt stick to the sweat building at the small of his back and between his pecs.

Stevie’s laugh precedes her as she pushes out onto their back porch, one hand clasping an overfull glass of red and the other holding the door open for Twyla following behind her. Twyla’s cut her hair so the warm summer breeze catches the now shoulder length strands as she smiles and sits cross legged against the porch rail, her sunny disposition a perfect match to the warmth radiating deep in David’s chest.

“Is it almost ready?” Patrick asks, his words making his chest rumble and David’s body vibrate from how close they’re plastered together on their loveseat style lounger. As they’ve settled into their new home, they’ve created these little special places, like the oversized soaker tub and the breakfast nook that faces the morning sun. Knowing they didn’t need to make room for potential future kids allowed them to build their home around their family of two and it’s honestly more than David could have ever dreamed up.

“Needs another half hour or so,” Twyla responds, before launching into a long story about all the different models of ice cream maker she tried out before finding the perfect one to give David and Patrick as a wedding present. Of course, because she’s a millionaire, she chose the most expensive home model, which David has thanked her for countless times.

“It’s definitely our most used wedding present,” he reminds her, which makes her smile.

“What about mine?” Stevie asks, each syllable dripping with her signature mix of boredom and sarcasm.

“You didn’t get us anything,” Patrick responds before David even has a chance.

“Incorrect. Need I remind you that it was only due to my meddling that the two of you even got together? And it was my apartment where you, you know,” she lets her words trail off as she nods pointedly. “And it was me who talked sense into you, David, when you wanted to drag Patrick to New York and leave me all alone.”

“Ah, yes, how could we forget. Thank you, Stevie, for your completely selfless gift of...um…”

“Friendship, David, the word you are looking for is friendship,” Stevie supplies, entirely too amused with herself.

As she takes a few large gulps of her wine, David tries to think of a witty response. But Patrick turns his head in that moment and presses a soft kiss into David’s hair and his brain turns to absolute mush. So, Stevie wins this round, but he’s really okay with it.

They do, eventually, eat some of Twyla’s ice cream, a delicious concoction of chocolate, pistachio and marshmallow swirl. Considering her disastrous attempts at edible smoothie recipes, she’s surprisingly good with her ice cream flavors. As the night goes on, Stevie gets more than a little tipsy, but so does David, and he laughs at his own slurred speech after saying goodbye from his now permanent spot on the loveseat.

“It’s a good thing Twyla stayed sober,” Patrick says from the patio door, the sound of his flip flops hitting the wood making David smile as he knows that means he’s coming back to sit with him again. Leaning his head back against the cushion, he focuses on the string of edison bulbs they have framing the overhang, made brighter now that Patrick has turned off the porch light.

“We should tell them to get an Uber next time. Twyla is a really entertaining drunk.”

Patrick’s warm body joins David’s on their loveseat and David lets out a happy grumble.

“So are you.”

Patrick’s voice is soft and rumbly, his mouth hot against David’s temple as he slowly drops kisses on a path towards David’s mouth.

“I’m not drunk,” David protests, even though he knows he kind of is, but he also knows how much his husband loves it when he’s a little ornery.

“Mmhmm…”

Patrick’s response is mumbled against David’s mouth, his hands greedily dragging David towards him by the back of his neck. David’s more than a little tipsy and he goes with it, welcoming the heady rush of desire mixing with the languid pull of the alcohol, making everything feel hazy and oh so good.

He’s barely maneuvered himself onto Patrick’s lap before his sweaty shirt is being dragged over his head and all the privacy they finally have is taken full advantage of.

Later, skin still pink from their shared shower and eyes closing against his cool pillowcase, David searches for Patrick’s hand between them on the mattress. It’s only when he has those familiar fingers, calloused from his guitar string, wrapped tight in his does he let himself fully drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight David,” he faintly registers hearing Patrick whisper.

“Night Patrick” he replies, or at least he thinks he does, but it could all just be a really amazing dream.

[ilguna]

Belamour - Epilogue (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death/murder mention.

wc; 10k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

After you won the Hunger Games, you were fully convinced that you would never get a moment of silence ever again. Elysia didn’t tell you until after you’d arrived in District Four--back when you had just come home from the games--that you’d be busy for weeks after. Your life wouldn’t return back to normal immediately, it would be gradual.

On top of all the celebrations that you were required to attend, like the Banquet with all the expensive people in and outside of your district. In your opinion, that was probably the worst to attend, and it was only slightly better because Finnick was there to help you. Then there was a holiday where entertainers from the Capitol and food was provided for everyone. And finally, the first Parcel Day, where families would all receive their own package of food for bringing home a tribute. The best part? There’s one Parcel Day for every month.

Not to mention, you spent every waking moment with Finnick. If you weren’t with Finnick, you were with some Capitol reporters that came around regularly to check up on you and your family. For a while, it seemed like they weren’t going to leave at all, which started to get Reed irritated. 

He just wanted to have a get together with Caspian’s family to finally have a small celebration between you all, but it was practically impossible when you were constantly being hounded. Finnick felt the same way, it made him squirm but he never said anything that might turn the reporters away. Reed was a whole different story.

And even after his meltdown, they didn’t consider leaving you alone until some dumbass made the mistake of trying to surprise you from behind. In return for flipping the reporter onto their back and nearly killing them after, you were then signed up for the best therapist that Reed could find.

He says that it isn’t permanent, but you need to be going every week for a while. The Hunger Games did a number on you, and it was only obvious when you had literally treated the reporter like another tribute inside of the games. In the end, you bruised Mox’s rib and nearly broke Reed’s nose.

You felt horrible for a while after, but they weren’t mad at you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this, it just came along with the already-shitty package. You’re just lucky that the reporters weren’t allowed to say anything on it. Otherwise, the image that the Capitol constructed for you, would be completely ruined.

So, really, you spent about a month and a half after the games, celebrating and trying not to look too terribly bad in front of the reporters. It wasn’t at all glamorous, you woke up every morning feeling worse than the last. When everything cooled down, you told Reed, Mox and Finnick that you’d need a while to yourself before even considering being around others. 

Finnick felt the same. You guys spoke when you could, but the conversations weren’t very long. By the time you came around to each other again, you’d already been moved into Victor’s Village, right next to Mags. Finnick is placed next to Anchor. The houses are huge, with more bedrooms than you know what to do with. If you really wanted to, you could fit Naida’s entire family in here. And she has five kids, one girl and four boys.

The house would be an absolute disaster, of course. But you’d still be able to fit their entire family, and maybe even Finnick’s, if you’re squeezing. Finnick only has a younger brother, Orion. Since your winning of the games, you’ve got significantly closer with his family. A lot more than you had been originally.

You thought that you were close before, when he’d bring you cookies and walk you home from school in the rain. That was really nothing, compared to this. At least once a week, you two meet up to have lunch or dinner or something, just to keep you all close. And once every two to three weeks, your two families and Naida’s will meet up in your house to have dinner.

Fifteen people, all sat at one table. When it comes to cooking, practically everyone is working together. The younger kids are all playing together in one of the spare bedrooms, and even then, there’s still people left over, with no clue what to do. It tends to be you, Finnick and Alyssum that are left alone the most often. Either in your living room or out front. The house can be quite loud a lot of the time.

After the two of you won the games, it hasn’t been the exact same as it was before. You knew that there would be differences, you’d already seen it when you had gone home for the first time with your family. The way that the neighbors, the ones you’ve known for years, would shut their curtains and for good measure, their blinds too. It made for a lonely neighborhood. 

You can’t just ask them why they have the sudden change of heart, but you suppose you could guess. As if you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now, you’re the fifteen year old girl who won the Hunger Games with one fourteen year old boy. He was the youngest victor, together you found out that you’re the youngest pair to win together. You once lived in poverty, and now you’re practically royalty. 

People are just waiting for you to stop being humble, but it’s hard to forget your roots, especially when they’re deeply embedded. You remember the nights of eating dinner by the candlelight, and the cold winters and sweltering summers. You remember the stomach pains when you had to give up your dinner for Alyssum.

You wish you could tell all of them that you’re the same. You’ve always been the same person, and you don’t have the slightest intention of changing. Not as you get older, not as your money starts piling. You’re still the same girl who used to go to The Square for soaps and ugly dresses and beat down shoes when there was no other place to go.

Maybe it isn’t you who’s changed, it’s the people around you.

Sounds like something cheesy, straight out of some romance novel.

Well, back to what you were saying about being fully convinced that you’d never get a moment left to your thoughts ever again; there’s about to be a rinse and repeat. You’ve managed to survive a couple of normal months, and it’s just about to get hectic. The winter Victory Tour is here.

The Victory Tour happens six months after the end of the Hunger Games. So, not only do districts have time to mourn and heal from the wounds of their tributes being killed, they’re now forced to reopen those wounds. And you’re going to be required to rub it in their faces.

The only reason why the Victory Tour takes place so long after the actual games is because it’s a reminder that the districts can’t fully escape the games. Sure, your tributes might have been killed in the summer, but just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you get to have a moment of peace. What kind of ridiculous thinking is that?

It just means you’re about to spend another couple of weeks away from home. About a day in every district, starting in District Twelve and ending in District Four, since you skip over your home district. So, it would technically go from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, etc all the way to Five, then it would be Three, the career districts, and then a celebration at home. Again.

Needless to say, you hope that you’ll never have to celebrate another thing ever again in your life after this. You’re tired of the big dinners and the pats on the backs. You just want everything to return back to normal.

“Think we should head back, yet?” Finnick asks, skipping another rock across the water. He’s knee-deep, pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet, but he doesn’t care anyway. You’ll be taking a shower when you get home.

“Probably.” you tell him, but neither of you move. Finnick rubs his thumb over a smooth gray stone, showing it to you.

You barely look over in time to catch that it’s the shape of a heart. Instead of doing something romantic, like handing it to you, Finnick straight throws it, not even trying to skip the rock. It soars through the air, going pretty far into the water. When it lands, it causes a minor splash. You’d say that’s swimming deep, you wouldn’t be able to stand up anymore.

“Can’t wait until this is all over.” you say.

“Tell me about it.” he skips another rock, it hits the surface once, twice, thrice, four times before it sinks, “I just keep thinking about how the other kids at school are reacting.”

“Reed was actually considering homeschooling me.” you tell him.

He pauses, looking over at you, “You can’t do that, then I’d be at the school by myself.”

You give him a small grin, “So? Won’t it be like before, when we didn’t really talk?”

“I hope not.” Finnick laughs, “We’re in it for life, we have to be. Plus, you live on the same street as I do, so there’s no avoiding me.”

“I can try.” you push yourself up from the rock beach, crossing your arms over your chest, “I think we’ll grow sick of each other eventually.”

“If they keep pushing us together, I do too.” Finnick holds out a rock for you. You take it, weighing it in your palm before skipping it. It dies after bouncing twice.

He throws his last rock, this one goes the farthest so far. When it sinks too, he brushes off his hands and turns around, getting out of the water. You pull your dirty tennis shoes on again. Finnick dries his feet with his towel, throws said towel over his shoulder, then slides his feet into his sandals. After that, you’re on your way back.

“At least we get to see our prep teams again, I missed them.”

“I didn’t.” Finnick makes a face, shaking his head, “Too touchy for my liking, even before we won.”

“Gross, wish I could give you mine instead.”

“No, you don’t.” Finnick makes a face, and then the two of you laugh.

The walk to Victor’s Village is far, since you and Finnick purposely tried to find a spot that would be hard to find, if anyone came looking. You don’t think anyone has, but then again, you won’t know until you get back to the houses. You and Finnick fill the silence by talking about what you think will actually happen when school gets started up again. You guess sashays to wear, and finnick bets on crowns.

And sure enough, when you get back to the village, you’re able to see the cars parked on the cobblestone pathways. There’s cameras being set up outside, and two separate nervous parents waiting. For Finnick, this would be his mother, Laoise, who comes rushing down the steps immediately.

“Where have the two of you been?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer as she starts yanking Finnick towards his house. 

You wave him goodbye before heading towards your parent, Reed. He’s not upset, as far as you can tell. You head inside with him to see that your prep team definitely is. Cleo lets out the biggest whine you’ve heard come from her, and Leo sighs loudly to let you know that he isn’t happy. Beth, on the other hand, starts towards your bathroom to get a shower started.

You’re not allowed a single conversation with Anchor, or Elysia who seems to be bouncing back and forth between houses. You’re drowned in water, hair washed swiftly just to make it shiny and clean-looking again. You smell like fruit and flowers at the end of the shower, being swept right into your bedroom after.

This is when they start to work like they did beforehand. Cleo gets to work on your nails, Leo heads right in with fixing your eyebrows and plucking every little hair, washing your face down, and starting over to make sure you’re to his liking. While Beth, as usual, takes her time with drying and styling your hair to make sure that it looks good enough. Out of the three of them, she’s luckiest since her job isn’t that hard.

Cleo’s going on about how the entire Capitol is excited to see you again. This is when you remember that you’ll be visiting the Capitol again. You bite your tongue, since you’re not excited. You wonder if this means you’ll be onsaughted by reporters again, going back to weeks of non-normalcy.

“Laurel doesn’t want to see you until you’re fully dressed.” Cleo says, raising from the floor, “I’ll grab your clothes.”

She leaves the room, Leo and Beth pack up their things, “You’ll be wearing warm clothes tonight. I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. You’ll be in dresses for the entire tour.” Leo says.

“Great.” you give him a smile, “Thank you, both.”

Cleo comes back in a moment later, and has you getting dressed immediately. Obviously they’re going for cool tones, because they place you in thick white pants and a long-sleeved, light blue shirt. After that is the jacket, the second that it’s zipped up, you can feel yourself start to sweat. It’s safe to say that you won’t be feeling the cold outside. They place you in warm shoes too, and you’re forced to stand still while they readjust.

In the end, they take the jacket off and tell you that you’ll be wearing it later. For now, you can go ahead and see everyone else downstairs. You take your time going down the steps, not really in a hurry. There’s no way you guys are going to be on time as much as you had wanted to earlier.

“There she is!” Anchor stands in your hallway, motioning to you.

Laurel comes out of your living room, looking over you from head to toe, “Where’s the jacket?”

“With Cleo, she said I could wear it later.” you say, “How do I look?”

“Like how you should.” she says, and then moves on. If you could take a guess, you think she’s annoyed that you did make them behind schedule. Finnick’s probably receiving the same cold treatment that you are.

Elysia comes in through the door, holding it wide open. Behind her is the camera crew, who come in and make themselves comfortable in the living room. Soon, the downstairs manages to crowd. The camera crew, Elysia, the prep team, your siblings, Anchor and Laurel. With the amount of people in the house, the volume starts to increase. 

You reach for your pinky to find that the ring is missing. In the middle of instructions from Anchor, you turn without a single word and head up the staircase. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the ring. If Anchor is bothered, he doesn’t say anything, he just lets you go.

In your room, you shut the door to muffle the sound and get some privacy. If you heard Elysia correctly, you should have five minutes or so before you present your hobby to the camera crew, which they’ll be editing and showing the public later. When it came to picking one out, you and Finnick were pretty stumped.

The choices were obvious, you were going to rock, paper, scissors to see who would get fishing or knots, when Mags came through with some ideas. Most of them were stupid, Finnick can’t play a guitar and you’ve never really liked gardening. Then Anchor suggested a two part skill, photography and modeling.

You wanted to shut down the idea, especially when Finnick was all for taking the pictures. If you have professional pictures of yourself, people are going to think you’re vain. So, Finnick switched the roles and decided that he could be the model and you could be the photographer. 

It took some practice, the first couple of pictures that you’d taken with the Capitol-bought camera were horrible. But as time went on over the few months, you managed to get a hang of it. And Finnick decided that he liked to model a lot more than he thought he did. And just like that, the problem was solved.

While Finnick’s living room is covered in pictures of himself that you took in various places, your living room has cameras and a few scenery and portrait pictures to show. Needless to say, this is another example of how you and Finnick have been complimenting each other since the beginning. 

You find your ring where Beth had placed it to get it out of the way during the bath. You pick it up and slip it on. By the time you get downstairs, they’re ready for you to start talking about yourself and not shut up until you’ve covered everything. After, you’ll narrate from notecards that Elysia wrote for you.

You think Anchor might’ve told Reed and Mox that you were overwhelmed or something, because it’s clear there’s been a change. Elysia is gone completely, Laurel and the prep team stand in the dining room, away from where you are. The camera crew inside of the living room is spread out enough to give you breathing room. The only people standing close are your brothers.

Just before you’re on camera, you stand taller and give a smile. Once they give you the cue, you go ahead and start explaining your hobby. The cameras, the pictures, how Finnick is your partner in crime with this. You make sure to explain what you do exactly with the pictures. When you’re done, you read the notecards as peppy as you can, then they push you out so they can get the living room by itself.

Reed and Mox aren’t excluded from the event, they’re actually pulled on camera together, which leaves you to hold onto Alyssum for the time being. You expected her to be pretty alert, but in the end, she lays her head on your shoulder while you sway. As soon as they’re done, things start moving quickly.

You hand Alyssum over, and Anchor comes back around with instructions. Laurel pulls the jacket onto you, which has you feeling like a furnace again, but you don’t complain. You nod and him and try to pay attention the best you can. All you seem to remember now is that you need to look as excited as possible when seeing Finnick.

Elysia then stops you in front of the door, tells you to be careful, and then opens the door. You step out, ignoring the sound of the door shutting behind you when you go down the steps. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of Finnick, who looks just as ridiculous as you feel because of how bundled you are. Especially since he was wearing shorts in freezing cold water just a couple of hours ago.

“Finnick!” you shout, opening your arms up wide.

Finnick hugs you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. He presses a warm kiss against your cold cheeks and laughs, “Missed me that much?”

“Of course!” you laugh too.

Everything you’d been building up to today, is over just like that. It was only to get an outside shot of you and Finnick greeting each other for the first time during the Victory Tour.

The goodbyes to your family and friends takes place outside. Finnick says goodbye to his parents and his brother, Orion. You say goodbye to your brothers, sister and Naida’s family, since they wanted to see you one last time before you go. Everyone from the Capitol piles into their cars, the Capitol people take off first. You, Finnick, Elysia and your mentors get into the last car. You wave goodbye to your brothers before you go.

At the train station, you wave goodbye and board the train. Elysia doesn’t stop the grind there, as she gets you guys into the dining room to have supper. The prep team doesn’t join you guys when you eat. You and Finnick have to take it easy, since the food is so unbearably rich. Even with you trying to make sure that you don’t eat too much, you still manage to feel pretty nauseous after.

After that, you’re left to your own devices. Laurel and Pleurisy disappear, Elysia says to be ready to get up early tomorrow, and your mentors head straight to bed. It leaves just you and Finnick as always. For a while, you two just stare at each other as if you don’t have a clue on what to say.

Then, Finnick gives a smile, “Sleepover?”

You grin, “Oh, hell yeah. I’ll just take a shower first.”

“Meet you there, then.” Finnick says.

You two split, with Finnick going to his own room. In yours, you go ahead and pick out your pajamas, and then shut the door to the bathroom to make sure that Finnick won’t accidentally walk in on anything. With the ring in a safe place, you step into the shower to wash off all of the prep team’s work. Once the water starts running clear again, you step out.

Finnick’s got his spot next to the wall all sorted out. He’s got a blanket laid out, a pillow and then a second bigger blanket to actually use. Obviously he banked on your shower idea, because his hair is wet too. You slip the ring into the bowl at your bedside and then fall back onto your bed.

“Tired?” Finnick jokes.

“Compared to you, yeah.” you look at him, “They’ve got to do a lot more with me than you. You heard Elysia, you get to sleep in.”

Finnick scoffs, “You think I sleep?” he tries to keep a straight face after, but it doesn’t work. The two of you crack up.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me.” Finnick says, settling in next to the wall.

The two of you lay in silence for a while. Despite feeling completely exhausted, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You curl yourself up, rock yourself, spread out, roll over but there’s nothing that works. Finnick falls asleep faster than you do, you can hear his heavy breathing.

You eventually settle for staring at the ceiling, feeling a sense of deja vu. It’s exactly like how you’d tried to fall asleep the night before you got home. Only then, you were nervous and excited and now you’re just… upset? You just want to be back to normal. You get that you’ll be mentoring again in the spring/summer, but for now, you should be able to relax.

You think you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. You wake up to Elysia rocking you and telling you it’s time to get started. She helps you get dressed into something comfortable, and you decide to leave your ring on the bedside table. When you leave the bedroom, Finnick is still sleeping comfortably next to the wall.

He won’t have to get up for a couple of hours. He’s only got so much that needs to be done, while you on the other hand have to go through everything the Capitol did initially. Your skin is going to be sore for the first time in a long time. You were just getting used to finally looking like the other girls in your grade, too.

Your prep team is already in the dining car when you get there. You assume your regular spot and watch as the team slowly comes to life. It’s obvious that they never have to get up this early, ever. You watch as they drink cup after cup of coffee, and then popping brightly colored pills into their mouths as they go.

Cleo does the most out of all of them, which solves the mystery as to why she’s so energetic. In no time, she’s looking awake and chatting with Leo animatedly. You eat quietly and try not to engage in conversation with them just yet. You wonder how they’re going to rebuild you if Finnick’s sleeping in your room.

You finish your breakfast, and figure that if you’re going to wake up Finnick in the process, you might as well bring him something as a gift. With the help of Elysia, you pack a plate full of foods that he enjoys. Cleo and Leo try not to be loud--Beth isn’t ever a problem--but they end up waking Finnick anyway.

“Here.” you set the tray onto the floor, “I’ve got to get started.”

He’s tired, but at least there’s no bags beneath his eyes, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Beth shuts the door the most of the way, and then they all turn on you like a pack of wild dogs. You’re stripped for the most part, and they start with waxing your legs. Finnick occasionally talks to you on the other side of the door, enjoying his breakfast. By the time you’re being bathed the second time, Elysia comes around to collect Finnick.

They’re all unusually quiet during this, even Cleo. You guess that the coffee and weird pills didn’t do their job good enough. They shower you one last time, try your skin and then lather you in the healing lotion. Immediately, you begin to feel better. You thank them for their efforts, get dressed and meet everyone else in the dining car again. It’s lunch time.

Elysia lays out the plan for you guys during this time. For the Victory Tour, you’ll be starting in District Twelve, which is another day’s train ride from here. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be there. She outlines the protocols and tells you what you should expect from the district, there’s not a single nice thing she says after that.

“It’s not all that bad.” Anchor says, he’s finished with his lunch already, just occupying a spot to keep you all company, “They’re going to be upset like they are every year.”

You share a look with Finnick, though. As much as Anchor and Mags can try and comfort you two, you think they’ve forgotten who the two tributes died to. You killed the boy, drowned him unfairly in water he doesn’t know how to swim in. And Finnick killed the girl a couple days later. You don’t know if you can even consider that self-defense.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to realize that every stop you’ll be making over the course of the next few weeks will be completely miserable. You and Finnick got an even split of murders, both of you have six, which in total makes twelve. Almost every stop will have one tribute you killed.

Anchor says that the districts are going to be upset, but that’s such an understatement. They’re going to be pissed, the only one that might be a warm welcome is going to be District Three, because of Verda and Blaire. Otherwise, you’re absolutely hated.

Finnick recognizes this too, his face is twisted, the two of you stare at each other for a moment. You wonder who’s going to be the one to point this fact out, but neither of you speak. You just let the topic drop, he goes back to picking at his sweet roll.

“Alright well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s supper.” you say.

A few of them bid you a goodbye, you drag your feet all the way to your room. Really, you’re not all that tired, you just don’t want to hear Elysia call another district dirty and ungrateful again. In your room, Finnick’s belongings are gone, so there’s no chance that you’ll be interrupted.

Instead of laying down, you find yourself heading towards the chair that you’d first occupied on your way to the Capitol during the summer. You sit in it, sinking into the plush cushion, and stare into the room. It’s a moment before you remember that magazine from your first time around.

You open up the nightstand drawer and find that there’s a new issue. And right on the front is a picture of you and Finnick that you took for the victory tour. 

Inside is probably your worst nightmare. There’s information about yourself, all spilled out onto the page. Your birthday, your age, stuff about your family, how both of your parents died… it just keeps going.

Finnick’s page isn’t nearly as bad as yours. In fact, when you read over it, you’re sure that the Capitol publishers purposely did this. When you begin to feel sick, you rip it into shreds and throw it into the bathroom garbage can so that you don’t have to see it. 

This is when you decide that it’s a good time to fall through on taking the nap. You pull the blanket above your head to shield yourself from the light. It takes some time, you still toss and turn but sticking to the idea works. The next time you wake up is to Elysia at the door, telling you that supper is ready.

Even after catching a look at yourself in the mirror, you decide that you could care less. You’re going right back to bed after this, you’re fucking exhausted. Everyone is sitting at the table when you get out there, and spirits seem to be pretty high. The prep teams carry most of the conversation.

You pick at your food in the beginning, not entirely hungry since you just woke up. You squint, each as much as you can, and sit at the table until you decide that it’s an appropriate time to get up and leave. You and Finnick are reminded that you’ll be up early tomorrow by Elysia. After that, you’re free to go.

Finnick stays at the table, but you go ahead and leave. You change into proper pajamas and roll over. You don’t fall asleep as quickly as you had hoped. In fact, you’re stuck thinking about the families of the kids that you had killed in the arena.

District Twelve, Tassel and Fodille. Tassel being the thirteen year-old boy that you had killed, and Fodille being the twelve year-old girl that Finnick had killed. You could try to play it off as self defense with Tassel, but you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned your back to him. It was bait, you wanted him to step out so that you could kill him. And it worked, you just didn’t expect him to jump on your back like that.

As for Finnick, you can’t imagine what he’d done to get Fodille to go after him. Or maybe he just came across her and decided that he might as well kill her.

Either way, in the end, you wake up screaming. For a good second, while you stare off into the pitch black room, you’re sure that you’ve died. But the moment you take in a deep breath from your nose, you’re reminded that even that would be a dream. Your throat is sore, your cheeks are soaked. You reach for a pillow and bury your face in it, sobbing, wondering how long you’ll have to suffer like this.

You’re so fucking tired. You miss the period of time when you didn’t have nightmares or worried about people approaching you from certain angles because you might accidentally kill them in a fit of blind arena flashbacks. 

You scream into the pillow, and then throw it across the room. You watch as it hits the only glass frame in the room, knocking it off the wall. You get up from the bed, take your ring from the bowl and go to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn on the light, but you hesitate putting water on your face.

It wouldn’t be a bright idea, especially not after the nightmare, but you do it anyway, multiple times. Even after the cold water, you still feel stuffy, so you go to leave the bedroom. Just as you step on the carpet near the door, a searing hot pain goes right through your foot.

You stifle a scream, gritting your teeth as tears reappear in your eyes. Your hand falls against the wall, holding all of your bodyweight, while the other cradles your foot. Even in the darkness, you can see the dark liquid coming from your foot. You struggle to find the lightswitch, and find yourself blinded in yellow light when you turn it on.

It takes a while of blinking for you to be able to see, and when you do, you’re not surprised. The frame had shattered, giant glass and small glass shards are all over the carpet. In your foot is a pretty big one, around it are much smaller pieces. Blood comes out of every one of them, staining the white carpet red.

Now is the time to start looking for the help call button. You go over the one panel near the door, squinting and rubbing your eyes. The pain in your foot is distracting, the light is hard to see through. You end up pressing the red one and hope that it works.

It does, it’s only a matter of seconds before the door is opening and you’re met with multiple Capitol attendants at the door. They take in the scene, the glass, your foot, the disorientation in your face. And without a single word, two of them help you so that you don’t have to walk on the foot, another goes to clean up the mess.

They take you into the main room and sit you on a chair, “Would you like for us to wake Elysia or one of the mentors?”

You shake your head, eyes trained on the first aid. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to need stitches, “No, can you just tell Elysia when she gets up?”

They agree, bring around the medical expert. They sit in a chair opposite to you, prop your foot onto their thigh and gently get to work. They pull out each individual shard, starting with the smallest, and working their way up to the bigger ones. You close your eyes and dig your nails into your hands when they start pulling out the worst one. You try not to move much but you still end up curling your foot.

You were right about the stitches, the person numbs your foot first and then works on the needle. Since you can’t feel it, it’s easier to watch them go through it. You bleed a lot, and even with the stitches, they wrap a bandage around your foot and have to half-carry you back to your room.

In the hallway is Finnick, he’s shirtless and has got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks over you, the two Capitol attendants, and then down at your foot. The serious expression on his face drops, as well as his arms, “What happened?”

“Broke a frame and stepped on glass, had to get stitches. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“She can stay in my room.” Finnick insists, holding his arms out for you.

You don’t argue, letting him hold onto you, “Thank you, can you tell Elysia that I’ll be in his room, too?”

“Yes, of course. Call if you have any more problems.” they say.

Finnick brings you into his room, which is almost a mirror of yours. His bed is unkempt, he was obviously sleeping. You wonder if it was your screaming and sobbing that woke him up, or the Capitol people helping you that did it. Either way, he shuts the door and helps you to his bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.” you tell him.

“There’s a hammock.” Finnick says, motioning to the corner.

Your eyes follow, and you find that he’s not lying. A white-roped hammock hangs in the corner of the room. He throws in a pillow, lays a blanket down as a base and then helps you into it. It’s a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be, and you laugh when he throws another, softer blanket on top of you.

Before he goes to lay back down, for the first time in months, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He lays down in the bed, back turned to you, blanket pulled over his shoulder. You lay your head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling of his room. Your foot throbs painfully. Even with how he set you up comfortably, you don’t fall asleep. You go over the different scenarios in which everyone will have to work around your hurt foot.

During your daydreaming, you manage to doze off. Before you know it, Finnick is shaking you awake, telling you that you two should eat lunch real quick before you get ready for District Twelve. It’s the afternoon, they’ve let you sleep in considerably. Finnick helps you out of the hammock and lets you lean on him while the two of you make your way to the dining car.

Everyone is at the table already, dressed and ready for what Twelve will have to offer. Before you can even get halfway into the room, all eyes are on you and Finnick. Suddenly, the topic is on your hurt foot.

“Let’s see it.” Laurel says, motioning for you to head towards her.

Finnick helps, you lean against the table with one hand so Finnick can go and sit down and start eating. You watch as Laurel unravels the bandage to take in the damage.

“Well, I’ll certainly say that I’m surprised.” Elysia says, sitting up a bit on her chair to see over the table.

“What happened, again?” Anchor asks, looking right at you.

“I uh--” you make a face, “The Capitol attendant didn’t tell you?”

“They didn’t tell us much of anything.” Cleo says, sipping on her coffee, “Did you get any sleep last night.”

Leo huffs, “That’s going to be hard to cover up.

“Well, what happened?” Laurel presses, looking at you now. If she thinks that your foot looks bad, she doesn’t say anything. 

“A glass picture frame broke by the door last night.” you decide that you’ll keep the fact that you broke it, to yourself.

“How?” Cleo asks.

You open your mouth, going to come up with some bullshit excuse, but Elysia has her own reason.

“I bet it was how hard the train braked last night during the refuel. Did any of you feel it?”

“I did.” Cleo and Leo say at the same time.

“Makes sense.” Pleurisy says, “They should’ve nailed it onto the wall better. What’re you thinking, Laurel?”

“She’s going to have to use numbing cream and wear flats for the rest of the trip.” Laurel turns to an attendant, “Can you clean and rebandage her foot?”

You get a new place to sit, away from the table, while your foot is reprepared. At least you’ve gotten yourself out of wearing heels, but you can’t imagine that the pain in your foot is nearly worth it. Plus, you’ll still be walking funky, so there’s no doubt that someone is going to point it out.

You have to eat quickly because you’re behind schedule. This time, you manage to feel just fine, which means that you won’t have to take a ten minute breather to make sure that you won’t puke. Cleo, Beth and Leo work together to make you look nice. They pull your hair down, making it look nice with as many products as possible.

Laurel comes around with your clothes. Since it’s snowing in District Twelve, you put on a dark purple jacket, black pants, snow boots and a hat to keep your ears warm. You think it’s overkill until you finally look outside. Even Finnick is dressed up to be warm, and he hardly ever gets cold.

The train gets dark for a long moment as you pass through a tunnel. When light comes back, you can see that District Twelve has tall walls. As soon as you can see into the district, the first word that comes to mind is ‘gloomy’. You immediately feel bad for the people because they have to stand outside while you receive plaques for murdering their tributes.

You and Finnick are brought into the main room, you’re on more of a time crunch than you had originally thought. Laurel applies the finishing touches here, fixing stray hairs and helping you walk in the boots with your hurt foot. Right as you pull into the train station, Elysia tells you that there won’t be a ride through the city, so there’s nothing to worry about there. But there are cameras at the station, waiting to see you two.

And just like that, the doors open and you’re exposed to said cameras. You hold onto Finnick’s arm tightly, trying not to make your limp super noticeable. Even with the numbing cream, you can feel the stitches oddly move. You’re really afraid of accidentally tearing them.

You’re directed into a car by a couple of peacekeepers. Making sure to thank them, you head inside first, Mags follows, then it’s Finnick, Anchor and Elysia. On the way to the Justice Building, Elysia gives you the cards to read off of, just in case you forget some lines.

From the car, you’re inside of the main building. You hardly get a few steps inside when you can smell a particular scent that must be exclusive to their district. As well as see all the dust that has collected onto tabletops they have not used in months. You can at least smell something cooking.

There’s a few seconds before you have to go outside and face the families of Tassel and Fodille. It really hits you now, you take deep breaths and try to ease the panic attack that’s rising. But it’s coming, and you don’t know how to stop it. With the anthem already playing, you’re fucked.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick says, making you face him, “Tell me one thing you smell.”

“The dinner.”

“Two things you feel.” he says.

“You touching me and the stitches.” you take a deep breath.

“Three things you hear.”

“Your voice, the anthem and my heartbeat.” it’s loud in your ears, almost louder than the anthem that’s playing outside.

“Your heartbeat is constant, it’s not going away.” Finnick says, “Focus on it, okay?”

You nod, sniffing. He gives you a small smile. Microphones are clipped to your bodies so that you’ll be heard. Finnick offers his arm and you wrap your hands around it, just like how you did on the chariot ride. The mayor of District Twelve is introducing you when the doors open.

“You’ve got this.” Elysia urges.

You two move forward, the applause from Twelve feels apprehensive. You walk together, you rely on Finnick to find the right spot on where to stop. He does, and you’re finally able to take in what the district looks like. You were right about the gloomy idea, because this does not nearly radiate the same energy that District Four does.

The space in front of the Justice Building is packed with people, all who don’t look thrilled that they have to entertain you two. There’s been two stages that have been constructed for the families of Tassel and Fodille. You don’t want to look. You have to.

Tassel’s parents are pretty young, but they don’t have any other kids, Tassel was their only child. His parents are straight-faced and angry, no doubt at you. Fodille’s family isn’t much better, she only has a younger sister that has to be half the age that Fodille was… so many six, seven?

The clapping dissolves, the mayor has to give a speech in your honor. You hate standing here and awkwardly staring into their district like this. You killed Tassel, you killed their only son. There’s a number of circumstances that go through your mind, none of which you like.

Two girls hand off large bouquets of flowers to you and Finnick. You make sure to thank them, and then Finnick is reciting the customary reply. It’s nothing interesting, just a thank you. You say your part next, which is practically a repeat of what he just did.

The last part is up to you and Finnick, since it’s your personal comments. It might have been approved by Elysia, Anchor and Mags, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t any less specially structured for their tributes. Unfortunately for you, you and Finnick came to the agreement that you two would switch on and off for who starts first and who goes second.

You clear your throat slightly, staring at Tassel’s family, because everything that you had written down, doesn’t come to mind. You open your mouth, draw your eyebrows in and breathe out. 

You can’t say anything staring at them like this. You close your eyes, and find it much easier this way, “Last night I dreamt that I had been perched in bushes by a pond, watching as two older tributes came around to gather water. I barely moved, but made noise nonetheless. The boy came to investigate, thought that he’d heard something but turned his back to me. I thought it was the perfect opportunity.

“I jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapped around him and thought victory was mine because I had the high ground. How would he get away from this? He couldn’t possibly. When he reached for his sword, I pulled his hair and went to go choke him. I didn’t take into consideration how clever the boy was, as he fell backwards into the pond on purpose.

“I wasn’t worried for a second.” you breathe out all the air you’re holding, “But I panicked when the water washed over me, when I realized that I didn’t know how to swim and I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I panicked when the boy held me in place to make sure that I would die. I wanted to cry when I thought about how I would be breathing in water in no time.

“It was worse when he wouldn’t let me go, no matter how desperate I was. I thought it was unfair, how he could be so big and so much stronger than me. It was an unfair advantage that I hadn’t taken into consideration. When I opened my mouth to breathe, unable to hold my breath any longer, I inhaled water. The boy let me go, and left me in the darkness of that pond, to sink to the bottom and drown.”

You open your eyes, looking at Tassel’s family, “I died in the dark, cold and in pain, worried about how my family would be able to pay for funeral expenses.” you shake your head, “I have been waking up to this nightmare for weeks. Since the end of the games, I have not slept soundly since. Your son’s face haunts me, and I know that means nothing to you, and I’m sorry. It’s not a proud moment of mine, his face never escapes me in my happiest moments.”

It’s done it, his mother is crying, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. His father nods once at you, but you don’t think that’s good enough. You could give this speech a hundred times to them, apologize over and over, but it will never compare to what it feels like to lose family. Especially not a son that they had raised.

Finnick gives his rehearsed speech to Fodille’s family, which turns out to be just as emotional. You two are given big plaques to accompany your bouquets. You listen to the clapping of the district, which somehow sounds louder than the first time around. The mayor wraps up your appearance, and then you’re brought back into the Justice Building, where everyone is waiting.

Elysia praises you guys, hardly making a comment on how you went off-script. Anchor gives you an approving nod, and suddenly you’re being readied for the dinner. You get washed completely so that you’re a blank canvas, and the prep teams work back up from there. Cleo and Leo are excited to be attending tonight’s dinner, and all the future ones too. You don’t see the big fuss.

They keep with the purple theme. They place you in a dress that reaches your calves, and a pair of black flats with white socks after more numbing cream is applied. Laurel comes around for finishing touches, which is when she pulls a black cardigan over your shoulders to keep you extra warm. You thank her.

“Try not to play with the ring too much, okay?” Laurel says, standing you in front of the mirror so that you can see yourself. You’ve begun to get used to the fact that you’re pretty unrecognizable after every makeover, “The Capitol is starting to take notice.”

“Okay.” your hands drop, you smooth out the dress, “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, make sure to smile.” she says.

The prep teams head out first, Elysia counts every step, and warns you guys to count too. Next is Laurel and Pleurisy, who look good naturally and have big smiles on their faces. Anchor has Mags hold onto him so that she’s able to move quicker and so that they don’t fall behind.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Tired, what about you?”

“Hungry.” he says, and the two of you grin.

You start walking.

It’s a rinse and repeat for every district. Your speeches start to blur, as does the faces. District Eight is hard for Finnick because both of the tributes died to him, that night he wakes up sobbing. You hold your breath and the next time you’re fully able to breathe is District Three, where Verda and Blaire’s families are more than forgiving. You can’t thank Blaire’s family enough, when you leave, you think that you’ve finally come to peace with Blaire’s sacrifice.

After your visit in District Two--which had ended badly, the word ‘traitor’ is what you’re labeled as there--Finnick comes up with the idea of making your own training facilities. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask, looking at Finnick. He’s sitting on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. You’re in his hammock.

Finnick sits up, “Think about it, we get a building, invest our own money into it. We get families in on it, advertise it quietly, start training kids to be prepared. If we can win at fourteen and fifteen, other kids can win at fourteen and fifteen, maybe even younger!”

“They just need an opportunity.” you say, he nods, a grin is spreading over his face. “We’ve got a problem though, your mom is going to say no, and my brothers would never approve of it.”

“I’ve got a solution to that too. What if we ask Anchor and Mags to put their names down? But only us and Anchor train the tributes, since we’re the youngest.”

You smile a bit, “You better be the one to suggest it to them.”

“Okay!” he agrees, getting up from the bed, “Let’s go now, then.”

Mags and Anchor approve the idea almost immediately, and for the rest of the night, you’re subjected to laying out the plans with them. Mags has got years worth of money built up, and decides that she’ll take on the bulk of the expenses. Anchor agrees to be a trainer, as do you and Finnick, on top of being mentors. 

“You know this means you won’t be home often, right?” Anchor says.

“At least we’ll be in the same district.” you tell him.

Conversation keeps moving. You point out that there’s an expensive building on the rich side of District Four. It’s big, and you think it served as some sort of hotel or warehouse. It’s going to need repairs, but you write the address down anyway and hand it off to Mags.

Finnick says that you two will start advertising it as soon as you get back home, there’s no doubt that there’s going to be some takers. No one wants their kids to die in the games, and if they’ve been preparing for years, their odds increase. By the time you reach District One, you’re feeling better about everything, and take District One with a brave smile.

The Capitol is the same way. You and Finnick stay in the Tribute Center, on your regular floor. The following night, you’re brought to the stage with Caesar to be questioned on how you and Finnick were feeling during the tour. He keeps it going smoothly, there’s not a moment you feel uncomfortable.

“And finally, what are your plans for the future?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, “Two young mentors, next summer will be your first time with tributes. What are your thoughts?”

“Our plans are secret.” you say outright, which has Finnick smirking. 

The audience likes this, all on the edge of their seat. No matter how hard Caesar prys, neither you or Finnick say anything. To admit the idea of illegally training tributes could mean big trouble for District Four. 

“You have to give me something.” Caesar says, “To give us something.”

Finnick gives him a fun smile, “Let’s just say that District Four just inherited the best mentors they could ask for.”

The interview ends, you and Finnick are brought to a large banquet. There’s music, soft chairs, tables with more food than you could ever imagine. The floors are polished, the ceiling is dark. You and Finnick are on camera the entire time, so you have to work together if you want to do anything. You two find your spot at the dessert table, and continue to sample the cakes, cookies, cupcakes, puddings, among other things. Finnick and you bet on who will get sick first, and you end up losing.

Eventually it gets out that you’re stationed at the dessert table, because people start coming around. You take pictures, and exchange names and conversation. You try to be polite and friendly, you’re just glad that they move on relatively quickly to allow others get their say.

Finnick enjoys his second slice of raspberry cheesecake, you get a cold bowl of ice cream and find a new spot to stand. You silently wish they served dishes like this back home. You wonder if someone has a cookbook, you’ll start cooking like this if you can. You’ve got the money for the ingredients, you just need the recipe.

Anchor and Mags come around to check on you and Finnick, and then suggest that you get real food into you besides all the sweets. They warn you to stay away from the drinks that’ll make you puke up your food, and wish you good luck on your next round of fans. You and Finnick go to a table with soups that warm the throat and make you feel hungrier than you were before.

When the music picks up to something more upbeat, you decide that it won’t hurt to dance once. You try to follow what Elysia had taught you two, but give up halfway through and decide for a more traditional dance from Four. It works, you and Finnick have more fun than you were before.

“Had you come up with that idea earlier into the victory tour, I can’t imagine how giddy we would have been throughout the whole tour.” you say, letting Finnick spin you.

“It would have been criminal.” he laughs, you join, “District One seemed like a pretty bad place to begin with.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” you agree. Considering that Trink and Lennox were the last two tributes that could have won. Their families weren’t very thrilled to see you two, either.

At this point, you don’t really care. How are they going to significantly affect you? Do they think them glaring at you is really going to do anything? The only time you’re afraid of Lennox in your nightmares is when he’s choking and beating you to death. If you could go back and do it all again, you’d kill Allio in his sleep and move on with your life.

He was stupid and egotistical. It’s his own fault that you’re alive and he isn’t. The Hunger Games is a fight to the death, a survival of the fittest. It’s an embarrassment to him that he had trained for years and still wasn’t fit enough to win. Him, seventeen, you, fifteen.

After dancing, you and Finnick take a break and wait for Elysia to come around. She picks you two up around midnight, the two of you go around and say your goodbyes and collect the prep teams, stylists and mentors. After that, you all get into separate cars to get back onto the train on time.

The prep teams are drunk and go to bed immediately. The rest of you stand around for a little while, talking about how tomorrow will go. Just before you go to bed, Elysia presents you with a recipe book straight from the kitchen. You thank her, bid everyone goodnight, but find yourself with Finnick in your room, going over what you’ll be making.

In the morning, you’re prepared for cameras again. You make sure to give a big smile and wave when you see Four again, glad to be home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see your family until dinner. Everyone is brought to Mayor Burrula’s house to get ready for tonight’s celebration.

You’ve never been inside of his house before, but it’s huge. Three floors, the third is where you’re brought. You’re prepared, just like you’ve been for every evening for the past couple of weeks. You’re dressed in a knee-length, navy blue and silver dress. You’re still not allowed heels, so Laurel settles for leather sandals and begs you to not do anything that might make your foot bleed.

When you’re done, you have about an hour to wander around the house. You don’t exactly feel comfortable, but Finnick goes right ahead. He holds onto your hand and brings you through each and every floor. On the second one, you come across Mayor Burrula’s twins.

They’re both eighteen now, seniors. Ameer and Mirza are the most popular in their grade, and considering that they’re both boys, they’ve got a bigger voice than you could ever have with Finnick. It’s an easy business opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before Finnick catches on. Neither of you mention it, instead you take the hour to get close to them.

When the hour is up, you’re brought around to be with your teams again. Elysia reminds you what you’re supposed to do, you and Finnick are fussed over for the final time. Once again, everyone slowly descends down the stairs and outside, where the district is loud with whistling and clapping.

The prep teams, Elysia, the stylists and finally, your mentors all leave. In the end, it’s just you and Finnick standing there.

The tour is almost over.

Finnick offers his arm to you, “One last celebration.” he says.

You slip your arm into his, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“One last celebration.”

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [1/13]

These will be full recaps of the latest JDC book, The Saimon Family Case (彩紋家事件) from 2004, which is a prequel taking place in the late 70s. While it’s a prequel, it can be read without any knowledge about the series. (It does spoil one death from Carnival at the end, but I feel like everyone already knows about this particular one).

It won’t be obvious in the recaps, but the book consists of seven parts seven chapters each (similar to Maijo’s Tsukumojuku) with two additional parts at the end.

The novel is light in terms of content warnings (for a murder mystery, anyway), but small kids WILL die in this, and we’ll be talking a lot about a specific type of systemic xenophobic violence near the end.

See that big family tree above? Save it somewhere for future reference. Believe me when I say you will need it. (Also, as always in the recaps, family name will be given first, Japanese-style.)

Well then—has everyone found their seats? Is everyone ready to witness the most splendid illusion?

Let's start the show.

PART 1

A note at the beginning informs us that soon 20 years will have passed from the end of the famous Saimon Family Murder Case, often called the “Crime Revolution” because of its impact on the future of similar complicated incidents. The details of the case have been hidden from the masses, but the time will soon come when everyone will learn the truth.

--

It’s the very last day of the year 1999. The mysterious first person narrator of the framing device is an older gentleman attending a New Years celebration in Las Vegas with his wife. They watch a fairly young blond magician perform close up magic for the guests. The magician borrows a 10,000 yen bill from the narrator, seals it in an envelope, sets it on fire, and it suddenly turns into a rose in his hand. When the narrator is asked to check his wallet, inside he finds a bill with the same denomination and serial number, but of a noticeably larger size… among a few other stunning differences.

“Happy New Millenium!” the magician exclaims.

This little illusion awakens memories from that case in both the narrator and his wife. As the world heads towards the new century, they are the only people left who were so closely involved in those tragic events of old.

--

It's September 19th 1977, and the entire Saimon family celebrates the 99th birthday of their old matriarch, Saimon Tamako. The celebration takes place on a performance stage next to the family's main residence in Tsuwano, Shimane Prefecture. Tamako’s daughter Akiko pushes the matriarch’s wheelchair towards the stage.

A perceptive guest may notice two other old women in the crowd who look astonishingly like Saimon Tamako, though they are a little younger (97). These are twin sisters called—if you can believe it—Tsukumo Tamako and Tousen Tamako. The three Tamakos look near identical, and in fact once used that similarity for their magic acts: all secretly shared the single stage name of Soga Tenju. That was decades ago, of course. The Tamakos no longer look like the beautiful young woman (actually women plural) known from her most famous illusion, Courtisane and Bell.

Once Akiko and Tamako take their place on the stage, all the lights suddenly go out for just a second, and in that brief darkness two things happen.

One: the red-and-white stripes of the celebratory curtain decorating the stage suddenly turn into black-and-white stripes of a funeral curtain.

Two: Saimon Tamako dies.

--

Saimon Tamako is ruled to have died of natural causes, not unusual at her age, and the curtain changing color must have been just someone’s attempt at a distasteful joke.

However, the threat of something darker going on still seems to lurk in the background. There’s a lot of people with bad intentions in this world. As part of the Saimons, Akiko is well aware of that. She recalls what she knows about the family's past.

Back at the beginning of the 20th century, Saimon Tamako made her living performing magic with a traveling circus group. Eventually she met a rich man, married him, and with his financial help established the Soga Tenju troupe.

Of course, the magician Soga Tenju was actually three women, all looking identical, all having similarly unclear pasts and wandering with the same group, all being called simply Tamako because no one even knew their real names.

It happened that three rich men of Tsuwano, who all have been friends—Saimon Taishin, Tsukumo Taigen, and Tousen Taikun—fell for the same “Soga Tenju”, and upon discovering the secret behind the magician decided to marry one member of the trio each. Since this was the era it was, the women didn’t really have a say in the matter. (Akiko hopes for more emancipation in the future and feels sad that she probably won’t live to see it; she’s over sixty herself.)

The tendency for similar names came with all sides of the family, it seemed. The three rich men were themselves a little weird, and that shared “Tai” in their names was something they added intentionally to show their bond. Their respective firstborn children—Tsukumo Haruko, Tousen Natsuko and Saimon Akiko—were given names referring to haru (spring), natsu (summer) and aki (fall). Since the Tamakos were so similar looking, their daughters also looked close enough that one could mistake them for triplets.

Akiko herself has three sons—Taishi, Akio, and Takayoshi—but now that they are all adults, they no longer feel so close to her, especially the youngest Takayoshi, who never felt inclined to stage illusion and broke all contact with the family. He didn’t show up for Tamako’s birthday and even now, a month later, hasn’t contacted them yet.

On October 19th, Akiko is busy sewing new props for a magic routine, the Five-Ball Cascade, in which juggled balls seem to change colors between red and white in mid-air. Remembering her times as the young magician Soga Tenshuu, she attempts the act just one more time. As she throws the balls in the air, she feels a stabbing pain in her chest and suddenly sees familiar faces in the balls—her mother, her husband, her sons—changing from white to red, like a bloody cascade. As they fall to the ground, Akiko does too.

--

A month later, on November 19th, a few members of the Saimon family are combing the Tottori sand dunes in search for young Saimon Yuuta, who went missing the previous day after announcing he’d like to show them something at the site. Everyone’s on edge; it’s barely been a month since Akiko's death.

A rope is found sticking out of Umanose, the famous “horse-back” dune, and several people pulling on it manage to unearth what looks like a giant card—four of diamonds—and Yuuta’s corpse tied to it.

--

--

Not even a few years have passed since JDC’s founding when young detective Ajiro Souji and his wife Mizuki take part in Saimon Tamako’s tragic birthday celebration.

The couple feels at home in Shimane, both because Mizuki was born in the prefecture, and because Ajiro has been friends with the Saimon family ever since receiving their help during the Ajiro Family Murder Case—the experience which prompted him to create JDC in the first place.

That case, as usual, was solved by his grandfater Soujin and mentor Shiranui Zenzou [and if you want to know more about it, read Carnival]. Both of them are splendid detectives, but decided young Souji should be the one to become JDC’s representative instead.

...but we keep saying "JDC" here, and the truth is the tiny group doesn’t call itself by the fancy English name Japan Detectives Club yet. It goes simply by Nihon Tantei Club and occupies the third floor of an office building filled with boutiques, clinics and the like.

Aside from Ajiro the representative, the staff consists of six office workers and twelve detectives (not counting Soujin, who is almost always out on business). The detectives are divided into the Shiranui Section and Kirigirisu Section, named after their respective leaders. There is some tension between the sections: the Shiranui part puts more value on past experience and doesn’t approve of choosing young Souji as their representative, while the Kirigirisu part praises his potential and thinks of the organization’s future.

So far Nihon Tantei Club is pretty unknown, no dramatic and giant solved cases to their name, and everyone has a strange conflicting feeling: at once wishing for the peace to never end and wishing for the inevitable tragedy to just happen already; to just get to the point where what should be unusual becomes the new normal, because everyone knows deep down it has to happen one day.

On November 22nd, Kirigirisu Tarou as usual takes the train to work, thinking about how the world will inevitably change as the new century comes around—though, of course, he can’t be sure he will actually get to see it, as nobody knows what will have happened in over twenty years.

Maybe he’s mulling over the passage of time and worries about the future so much because he's a man without a past. Kirigirisu lost all his memories to head injury a few years ago, at the same time when he was wrongly accused of murder. Fortunately, he was proven innocent thanks to both Ajiros, could begin new life as a detective, and even found a wonderful wife called Kano. He would love it if this usual everyday life could continue indefinitely… although without crime, a detective like him would be out of a job. For now he wants to focus on helping the Ajiros as he can.

Kirigirisu arrives at the office, which is mostly empty this early in the morning. Well, except for the delinquent detective Raiouji Rokenrou, looking just like you’d expect a punk named after rock’n’roll to look like (sunglasses, a lot of hair gel…) and taking a nap on the couch. Apparently Ajiro Souji had a long meeting with him about something last night, and now wants to talk to Kirigirisu.

Ajiro Souji is a sharply dressed 29-year-old man, easy to mistake for a normal office worker in the crowd. (Kirigirisu always flinches a bit seeing his elegant tie; he himself has a strange phobia of wearing anything around his neck, which he suspects has to do with an unknown event forever hidden behind his amnesia).

They each light a cigarette and have a friendly conversation. Ajiro mentions that he recently tried to switch to cigars, but alas, it seems that it’s still “too early” for him to appreciate them; about forty years too early, according to grandpa Soujin. [Seeing as Ajiro is a huge cigar fan in most of the series, grandpa miscalculated by at least two decades.]

Soujin is a thin man of short stature who hardly looks like someone in their seventies, although his hair is just as white as his usual suit, with just a black bowtie breaking the color. He always gives off the air of a mafia boss, his sheer power of personality taking hold of everyone around. Soujin apparently feels constant wanderlust, so he almost never shows up at the office. In fact, Kirigirisu hasn't seen him in over two months now. Who knows what he’s doing.

But back to the situation at hand, Ajiro wants Kirigirisu's help. For the next few days, they will investigate a case together in another prefecture, Rokenrou taking care of Kirigirisu’s section in his absence.

The case surrounds a strange series of deaths. First, Saimon Tamako dying (seemingly) of old age on her birthday on September 19th. Second, her daughter Akiko suffering a (seemingly) accidental death on October 19th, when a misplaced sewing needle stabbed into her heart. And third, a very strange but (seemingly) accidental death of another Saimon family member that has just happened on November 19th. Ajiro and Kirigirisu are to investigate whether or not the perfectly spaced string of incidents may be an act of serial killing.

The case is of personal importance to Ajiro. After all, the person who requested their services is the same man that helped solve the Ajiro Family Murder Case: Saimon Ryuusui, known better as the great magician Soga Tensui.

--

(The third person narration swaps here to a completely different font, and informs us helpfully: but ah, before the two detectives could head to Tsuwano, they would go to Yamaguchi first, to watch the magic show of the Saimon family, a marvelous experience that Ajiro has already had a few times because of his friendship with the family, and that Kirigirisu would witness for the first time.

And from the very moment they were invited to see the show first, they felt uneasiness settle inside them. Only much, much later would one realize just how deep the hidden meaning of the show really was, and that solving all its mysteries was crucial to solving the Saimon Family Murder Case.

You could even say that the show itself, filled with so many wondrous mysteries to solve, was the true Saimon Family Murder Case. If so, then the magician Soga Tensui could be defined as its culprit—and if so, then Ajiro and Kirigirisu have just walked right into a marvelous illusion indeed.)

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[therearwindow]

29

> Hey Reader. Saddle up. This is long winded as fuck. There are little notes at the bottom for the numbers in the text. Anyway. The voices used to write this change. A lot of it will sound childish. I wrote parts in that voice because it was necessary for that part of my life. Also I suck at organizing my thoughts. Please keep my past English teachers in your hearts. They did the best they could with me.<

So I am living in a state where if there is not contest, you might as well wait it out for 18 months living separately. I moved here from my home state thinking things could be better with a new start, and I didn't want a life without my step kids. Of course things went awry, and now we're separated, and I don't see my step kids everyday.

With him I didn't have to pay for anything. I wanted to. He makes significantly more money than I ever did, and that fucked with me. I couldn't be financially helpful. I had a job, and it meant nothing in comparison. He made me feel that. Tried to get me to be a stay-at-home-mom because it was financially more useful than me working. I grew up working for everything I wanted. Work and hard work was what I knew. A household with two working parents was what I knew and what I wanted. He won eventually.

I was 23 and he was 31. He was going through a divorce with two kids from his previous marriage. I was young, carefree, loved kids, stupid and hopeful. I still high on trying to make less mistakes and better myself by going to school by finding that mythical job that I love and not struggle. Though I kept forgetting that I have depression, bipolar, and anxiety. That I will more than likely have to take pills everyday of my life to function "normally," in addition to therapy. At the point I met him I was doing neither medication nor therapy. I was stuck in well-meaning loop of "I'm trying." It of course want good enough. So I never progressed.

We dated for two years before I decided I wanted him to ask me to marry him. Stupid. Those two years were filled with him putting me down about my mental health, my silver of aspirations, my social life. My social life already lacked from being pretty introverted. Any friends I had at the time I'd known for years and had grown apart from with sprinkles of hangouts here and there. Then I made new friends. Friends from work who wanted to do things with me and understood me a little better. My growing friendships with stunted with being guilt tripped. His kids the bait.I took it. I had fallen for them. I had decided I wanted to be in their lives. I loved them. I was also told that I wouldn't be having children of my own with him. Though because of loving them, and because I loved him, thought he was the best thing to happen to me, I tried to make myself forget about having something I wanted the most out of life. I loved my stepkids even more. I also tried to compromise with my social life until nothing was enough, and I hardly ever saw my friends outside of work. I was so fucking vulnerable. I am so god damn thankful for those friends I met at work still being around for nearly 6 years.

Two years of red flags. Two years of trying to compromise, then fight, then my silence, and submission. Not ultimate submission, no, I still had some pride left. I put up the occasional fight and occasional acts of disobedience. I had to. Then there was happiness. Because I submitted. Duh. He got what he wanted. So I was happy¹. Twenty-five had come around, and my poorly wired brain told me it was time to get married. He loved me. So why not? Summer 2015 he popped the question during Movie In The Park. I knew it was coming because we talked about it and he let me pick out my ring. I was overjoyed. He paid the money for the ring, but I still was surprised he actually did it. After years of feeling unworthy of love, like I didn’t deserve happiness, like I was only good for pushing people away, someone wanted to marry me. Sounds rad, but it wasn’t. Against the better collective judgment of myself and other who knew my relationship, I said yes.

Now activated was stressful wedding planning. He ended up footing the bill for the entire thing because my dad couldn’t (or wouldn’t, still unclear) help pay for anything. Part of that was because for some reason my almost spouse wanted to get married the same year. November to be exact. He, to this day says he was joking about the timing, but I will never believe him. The reason? Taxes. We wouldn’t be able to file jointly married if we waited. He had it in my head that my low income was needed that tax year to lessen the amount of taxes he would owe. I didn’t get the venue I wanted because of moving the wedding up. So I decided that I wanted to do a courthouse wedding. He had already gotten married once before, and if I wasn’t getting the wedding I really wanted, then I would settle for much less. He said at some point during an argument that if I didn’t agree to a big wedding like he wanted, then we shouldn’t get married. I could no longer have family I wanted to attend be there, but I really wanted to get married. I was blind. So we got married November 2015. I wasted a good wedding theme and the time of everyone who attended. We never even got our wedding photos back. There was an ice storm. My dad paid for my dress giving me a check on my wedding day, but he (at my request not thinking he would actually do it) deducted money owed him from the balance. Looking back I feel that it was just a shitty wedding day for a multitude of reasons.

It’s November 2019, and this month would be our 4th anniversary. It’s weird that we’re not celebrating it. We kind of forced it last year. Even got a puppy. Poor Tonks. Though I’m also in another relationship for over a year now. So there’s that. He’ll argue that it’s that relationship that ended us because he put up with so much for me. We were shitty before boyfriend came into play. I also had a miscarriage during year two of our marriage, and that nearly broke us. I should have left because there were some shitty things said directed at me during that time. Like really shitty. Though back to polyamory, not wanting to let go of something good that was happening to me won over, and eventually helped me leave. Not the person. It should be known that part of our “redefining ourselves” idea coming with moving to a new state included polyamory.

So. While getting ready to make the move, my spouse had to move ahead of me and the kids. We talked about being in an open relationship. He only wanted a shared girlfriend. I said fuck that and scrubbed that idea opting for polyamory. Why? Because I am polyamorous. After years of being told that I was a dirty cheater, failing at being monogamous, beating myself up for failing, and deep suppression, I had come to terms with being poly. So, okay, he went with it. I explicitly pointed out that once we went this way, I would not go back to monogamy. I couldn’t. It was kind of like coming out for the third time in my life. First with coming out as bisexual during my teen years, the second coming out as pansexual in my 20s.² I sold him on the idea that for me, it would just be sex. I have always been able to separate sex from emotions. I never needed to feel anything about someone before fucking them. After a short while I stopped feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. So whatever. I like sex. I did however make it a point to tell people I was not in it for the feels. I’m not a complete monster. Though that turned into never sleeping with the same partner more than once so as no to catch “feels.” When I did catch feelings I tried to hide it because the sex was good, and a few times admitted my feelings ending up in short-lived relationships. I fucked up, I know. The long and the short was spouse declared that he needed to find someone first before I could do anything physical with anyone. His reasoning was uneven playing field between our genders.³ Blah, blah, blah. That was March 2018. The next month I met my boyfriend online.

You would have thought I went against the rules my spouse and I had previously developed. He was on my case. I was happy talking to my boyfriend. Found out he lived really close to where I was moving (big fucking plus and homeboy was cute af sorry not sorry). Spouse at this point had not found anyone to sleep with. So after being difficult and me telling him that it was pretty unfair that I had to wait, he allowed me to go on a date and let me have sex. Two separate people, and not my boyfriend. May rolled around and me and would be boyfriend have been talking for a month. Spouse had found someone. I was sick to my god damn stomach. Like who else wanted to date this idiot besides me. He was my idiot. As a gesture towards learning to be open and honest with our feelings I expressed my discomfort. Which eventually got dismissed with “you’ll be okay.” Because he was now doing something, everything was okay. My feelings definitely didn’t matter. Though he acted like they did.⁴

May also meant that it was time for the kids and I to move. The school year was over, and it was time for them to spend time with their mom. So spouse and I were kid free for three weeks. it also meant I would finally get to meet the guy I’ve been talking to for a month. I won’t lie. I was fucking elated. I had planned to go at least a day ahead of spouse to get some alone time. Time to meet the guy, see if I still liked him in person, and ya know, do the do. That did not fucking happen. I’ll admit I let my excite get the better of me, a lot. To the point where I lied about where I was going and how. This was in response to spouse being himself and not allowing me to take time out to see my future boyfriend (spouse and I both ended up at the new house not too far apart from each other). I got upset and was dishonest. Not proud of that. It was not good. To me I felt like spouse got his alone time with the new woman, twice I might add. Why couldn’t I be granted the same? Spouse almost didn’t let me use the air bnb he was staying at which had two rooms. I declared that he could not use the same bed him and I slept in to have sex with her.⁵ So he used the other room. Which I also used. Now. We had also a rule stating no overnights. Yeah, post-coital naps do not fall under that. It was already late at night. I was tired. The plan was nap and go home. Duh not stay the night. We also had a few other rules: 1. communicate 2. do not contact the other partner while they are with another Person unless it can’t wait. My spouse showed up at the air bnb because I didn’t communicate, and he thought I was taking too long. Tried to pin breaking the overnight rule on me too. Nah. Eventually I got to go on a proper date with future boyfriend, and it was amazing.

Over a year and a half later I am separated from my spouse and have been with my boyfriend. I moved out in April 2019. I was doing okay for living on my own for the first time in six (6) years. I had a job after a year of basically being guilted into being a stay-at-home-mom⁶. Which I enjoyed the growing closer to my kids part of it, but the constant being at home with only precious baby of a dog, and being expected to spend large portions of my day keeping up a house, not leaving the house to work, put in a deep depression. No matter how hard I tried to try hard, I couldn’t make myself do shit. Small accomplishments were huge to me, and meant little to spouse. So having a job and my own space was fucking magical. I mean spouse totally had to cosign on my apartment, and was (is) giving me $500 a month (ending this coming December) as hush money because I’m probably not going to qualify for alimony. For the record, should I qualify, I wouldn’t be asking for more than what would help me be independent of him. Dude makes six figures a year. He has enough to spare. I wouldn’t be out to get all his money. I don’t want to interrupt the lively hood of my step kids. Anyway. Like I said, it’s November 2019. I lost my job last month. I have a car I need to make payments on, utility bills, it was necessary for me to adopt my dog out, and I feel low again.

Needless to say that the last month has been kind of shitty. Oh. My dad also has a stage four brain cancer. Trust me that plays into the not currently employed thing. I’m still look and applying, but what if my dad dies and I’ve had the new job for less than a month? I’ll obviously be taking the amount of bereavement time allowed. It’s my fucking dad. So I take bereavement and then come back and lose my job? I’ve applied for unemployment as a temporary means of income⁷. Though it’s taking about a month to see if I can receive it. The idea had been to stay on unemployment throughout the holiday season while still looking for a job, and not passing up a good opportunity. Cross the jobless bridge again if I need to in the event my father dies. I have no fucking clue what to do except move forward. What else though? I don’t know what I should be doing while I’m moving. I’m still seeing my therapist, and now new psychiatrist. Both of them working out well. So that’s good. Part of why spouse and I haven’t really pushed for other reasons for immediate divorce is because I really need the health insurance. I got to the doctors a lot for various health issues. If I didn’t have health insurance, all the progress I’ve made towards my mental health will be undone in a much shorter time than it took to get it to a better place. I can’t let that happen. I turn 30 this coming March. I’m fighting to begin the next decade of my life on a good note.

*BONUS ROUND* My still being legally married is causing other problems. My boyfriend’s parents have no idea that I’m still legally married. I do not have good feelings about beginning how to start that conversation. It’s been over a year. Boyfriend’s sister knows. We (he) told her (while I was in the same room) to see what she thought. She thinks it will be fine. It probably wouldn’t be if I had biological children. Which I don’t. Blessing in disguise I’ve been told.

If you’ve made it this far I really wish I had something to give you for reading through my short review of my life. Trust me. This is the short version. All in all it was an abusive relationship, and despite my current predicaments, I am in a better place since leaving. I really left a fuck ton out. You’re welcome. I’m not new to the internet. I know some of you will want to comment things that I don’t agree with. If they aren’t insightful, to point out a typo, and only cruel, then I don’t give two fucks. I understand that I may be the ”villain” in his story, and after writing what I did I can only imagine what he would say. I am a happy little camper with my boyfriend. He deserves a god damn medal or some shit for sticking with me after things got hairy. He is awesome.

¹ Years later Paramore's "Fake Happy" would cause me to break down into tears. That was when I realized I was situationally happy. It was fake.

² I am 100% not claiming polyamory as a sexual identity. Honestly I could be better educated. I am comparing the feelings. Those being free, shoulders a little lighter, and most of all happier. I will also not entertain discussions of bisexuality versus pansexuality.

³ Q.Q some more you sexist prick

⁴ A little over a year later I came to the realization that I always HAD to ask for permission. He did, but he never HAD to. He had the power in the relationship. I had to mind my Ps and Qs so to speak. If I said no, we had to discuss. If he said no, that was it. So I never wanted to discuss anything with him.

⁵ The “no same bed” thing I lobbied for carried over into our new house. I’m just not cool with that. There was OUR space and THE space. Eventually spouse barred me from ever using the house, and boyfriend was not allowed inside of it period.

⁶ He won.

⁷ Needing assistance seriously hurts my pride. I'm stuck between getting off of it as soon as possible, and falling further into debt.

[moodring89]

Espresso Marmalade CH.2

Pairing:  Taehyung / Yoongi (ft. side Jikook) Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: BDSM!AU Tags: Dom!Yoongi, Sub!Tae, Shibari, Master/Slave, Canes, Impact Play       Summary: Jeongguk was more eager to get inside the club, taking long strides to the set of black steel doors. It was the younger’s idea to bring Taehyung to Void. Seoul’s first fetish house, an upscale BDSM parlor that was legally permitted and licensed. Or the one where Tae’s a meek virgin who catches the eye of Void’s most popular dom. Previous chapters: 01

- Problem with the layout? Read on ao3 here.

A/N: Uh…so, first of all, THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to comment, kudos, subscribe, and bookmark this story. I’m not at all used to having such a big response to my work. I usually write het stories with side bl, but my friend challenged me to write a full bl, and that was how this story came about, and I was super pessimistic about it. I thought no one would like it, but you guys kind of popped the bubble to that belief. As far as my writing schedule goes, I never know how long a chapter will take for me to write. If it’s rushed, then it runs the chance of being sloppy, which I don’t want to do to you, ever. I don’t think I’m particularly fast at getting chapters out and I’m sorry for that...I like writing long chapters and this story requires lots of research. Thank you all for being patient with me though. I wouldn’t mind making friends, either! I always follow back, so please don’t be shy: tw Extra note: This is a JiKook heavy chapter. COME NOW. THEY DESERVED IT. Just know that you will never get a chapter with Jikook like this again. Thank you @Bangtan_Trashbag and Melissa for pushing me, beta-ing. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two: A Rabbit's Heart It was halfway through Professor Min’s lecture that the reality of the situation had fully started to sink in. Sugar was Yoongi, Yoongi was now taking over one of the most important Art History courses of Taehyung’s precious student career. He loathed the idea of it, completely and wholly, as he watched Yoongi go on about 12th century France, pouring so much passion into articulating the beauty of Gothic churches. He especially hated how attractive it was that Yoongi knew so much about his world, and yet Taehyung still knew so very little about anything else. The class ended with no homework being assigned. No mentions of an exam – just lazy, lazy nonsense. Professor Jung would have had the students groaning by now, save for Taehyung, because he actually enjoyed homework. Unfortunately, his fellow classmates ate Professor Min up like he was a damn buffet, falling into his many examples of how the Christian faith was cultivated through the power of art. Everyone appeared to be sipping the Kool-Aid, except for Taehyung, because he knew that there was a monster in their midst. They just didn’t know any better.   He shoved his belongings inside his bag, the note section of his book completely blank, since he’d been unable to pay attention long enough to jot down anything useful. Or maybe it was the fact that he was paying too close attention to Yoongi, that he’d forgot all about it. Several times he found himself distracted by the way the professor’s mouth drew into a deep pout, like he was frowning around every syllable. The professor even smiled at one point. It was unreasonably gummy and so big that it reached his eyes, which caused Taehyung to momentarily forget himself, and who he was dealing with. “Ridiculous,” Taehyung muttered at the memory of it, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and was about ready to head straight for the doors, when he heard his name being called. Typical. It was fucking typical.   Yoongi glanced at him from behind his glasses, “Can I see you for a minute?” It wasn’t really a request – Taehyung knew this, as he took his time walking towards the professor’s desk. The room was emptied out, leaving just the two of them. Great. The elder was hunched over a mountain of paperwork, attempting to retrace Professor Jung’s steps, not wanting to divert from the original lesson plan. Taehyung waited a good two to three minutes in silence, before he decided to break it, “Professor?” The title of respect was sour on his tongue, leaving its aftertaste twice as bitter. “I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you that my working at Void is to remain hushed,” Yoongi said, as he peered up at him then, boring his dark penetrative eyes through Taehyung’s – holding him very, very still. “Can you do that for me, Taehyung? Can you stay hushed?” “You shouldn’t put me in a situation where I would have to keep one of your secrets, professor. It’s irresponsible of you and it’s also wrong,” Taehyung said, deciding to be perfectly candid about it. He was never any good at keeping quiet over something he felt strongly about and right now, the current situation begged to be screamed out loud to all his friends. Then he briefly wondered if Yoongi had to have this talk before. How did he make sure they stayed silent?   The professor chuckled, softly – endeared, because he’d expected Taehyung’s answer to go exactly like this. However, he felt that he had nothing to worry about when it came to the younger, knowing a good boy when he saw one. He leaned back against the old leather chair, allowing the silence to fester for a few more seconds, before he finally responded, “Fair enough. It wasn’t my intention to offend you, Taehyung.” ‘Taehyung…’ He wanted to swiftly end Jeongguk for saying his name the other night, although Yoongi would have found it out eventually, but it seemed like the professor was saying it purposefully, and intimately…   He sighed, feigning disinterest, “Can I leave now?” “No, Taehyung. You may not,” Yoongi said, tearing his eyes away from the boy’s face to instead take in Taehyung’s ensemble more closely. If he could manage Taehyung, dress him up in whatever he pleased, the possibilities would be endless. The first thing he’d do away with was that purple scarf. It was the same one from the other night. Yoongi pointed to it, voice practically dripping with sarcasm when he asked, “Do you have some sort of unhealthy attachment to that thing?” That ‘thing’ was a handmade gift from Taehyung’s grandmother – the last gift, to be more precise. Taehyung missed her so often that he rarely parted with it, even in the summer it was always in plain sight. Sometimes when he was nervous, he’d run his fingers over the knots, envisioning her working on it.   Releasing a shaky breath, Taehyung was visibly hurt, shooting the professor a glare, “What does that fucking matter to you?” Oh…The formalities were lost to them at that point. Yoongi much preferred it that way, honestly. Fiery, beautiful boys like Taehyung with tears clinging to their lashes tended to be a weakness of his, and Taehyung was the easy kill.   “You know,” Yoongi started, taking a thoughtful pause, voice lower and raspier than usual due to the long lecture. “That scarf is just the right length.” It took Taehyung a moment to realize what Yoongi had meant by that and the only conclusion he’d come down to would leave him furious if he was correct. He would need the professor to elaborate more, “Right length for what, exactly?” “Well, it’s the right length to keep you all nice and warm,” he mused, while standing up from his desk. Yoongi hadn’t failed to notice the way the boy tensed at this, as though he was on high alert. Taehyung was truly exquisite, reacting with such uncertainty, and yet he was still so curious – hanging onto every little thing that Yoongi said or did. Taehyung was already the ideal submissive. He just didn’t know it yet. Yoongi was shameless, as he continued, “It’s also the perfect length to do a simple over-arm tie. There might even be some scarf left to walk you around like a puppy dog.” “Stop talking. Just fucking stop,” Taehyung murmured, still trying to recover from the fact that Yoongi suggested using his grandmother’s handmade scarf as a perverse prop. He licked his bottom lip out of habit, eyes steadying on Yoongi’s – even if it sounded less convincing, even to himself, he tried, “I would never let you.” Yoongi was careful with every step, slow, and so very careful. He wasn’t trying to frighten Taehyung away, not when fate presented him with another opportunity. Taehyung had made a fatal mistake back at Void – he’d allowed himself to be seen, seen to an extent where Yoongi saw every little bit of him. There was desire there, a tangible and desperate cry for help, and Yoongi wanted to do just that, he wanted to answer him. He wanted to save Taehyung, before he falls deeper into misunderstanding himself. “You shouldn’t let me do anything,” Yoongi said, stopping once he was standing directly in front of his student. With their differences in height, the elder had to crane his neck just to be able to stare at him. “Submit to me first, Taehyung. Consent to me.” Taehyung’s lashes fluttered at the words, decidedly pretty – Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed at the thick lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he’d meant the next stream of words to spill out, reacting without fear of any real consequence, “If you bring this up to me again, I won’t hesitate reporting you to the Dean. I’m sure he’d love to know that there’s a sick fuck parading around as a professor.” The elder’s lips twitched into a smirk at that, giving Taehyung a long, heavy look of ‘oh, please’ that let him know that he knew – Yoongi fucking knew that he was bluffing. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, dark eyes tracing over Taehyung while under the bright overhead lighting. Imperfections were meant to be seen and exposed, but perhaps Yoongi was a bit biased, in the fact that the boy didn’t seem to have any. Taehyung was an enigma consisting of suntanned skin in the middle of winter, two gorgeous almond shaped eyes, and a highly kissable Cupid’s bow. Three dark freckles stood out like focal points, one on his waterline, another on the tip of his well-round nose, and the other on his bottom lip. There was an old scar on his cheek that was paler in contrast, which only made it stand out more. Yoongi was intrigued by it and the fact that no matter how murderous Taehyung could appear when glaring, no matter how angry, there were still flecks of warmth, and innocence, and perhaps it was that innocence that Yoongi found to be most erotic. “I…” Taehyung started saying, when one of his classmates knocked on the doorframe, interrupting them. Yoongi could have thrown the little prick out a window, watching as Taehyung startled, and clung tighter to his bag. He then bowed deeply to Yoongi in some fruitless attempt to ease any suspicion. “Thanks for the advice, professor.” Yoongi folded his arms in irritation, charcoal eyes following Taehyung, until he was out the door. He snapped his teeth, “Anytime.” Hoseok was waiting at their usual spot by the leaky water fountain. Jeongguk always took a few extra minutes in his Photography class to pack up his camera equipment. This time Taehyung was the one who was late, met with a glare from his starving hyung, and a confused smile from Jeongguk. It took everything in Taehyung not to just explode about Yoongi, but it would be better to unleash once they were all sitting down. “I thought I was gonna have to eat our little Jeonggukie,” Hoseok grumbled, as he pressed himself off the wall to start heading towards the cafeteria. This was the first time Taehyung had seen Hoseok since his visit to Void, remembering all of what Jeongguk told him. The line was short, given how late Taehyung was, the three of them plucking food from under the heating lamps. Then they sat, taking the first few bites in silence. “Why were you late today, hyung?” Jeongguk asked with a mouth full of jjiggae. Next to him, on top of his camera bag, his phone started going off, to which he ignored. It was like he’d grown immune to it, easily droning out the noise.   “The professor had me stay after,” Taehyung said, picking apart his food into an artless deconstruction. He really wasn’t all that hungry, not after his encounter with Yoongi.   “Oh, I heard about poor Professor Jung.” There was a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, Hoseok’s, as the elder leaned in, teasing his words against his ear. “I know he was your favorite. Guess you gotta hang onto your innocence for a little while longer.” Taehyung shrugged him off, but not before Hoseok could press a kiss to his cheek, “What the fuck is your problem?” “How’s the substitute?” It was Jeongguk’s way of prolonging Hoseok’s death. “I know he’s not Professor Jung, but they wouldn’t hire just anyone to fill his shoes. He’s a legend.” Taehyung wanted to laugh at the irony. “Oh, it definitely wasn’t just anyone.” “Well, spill it,” Hoseok said, having already cleared his plate – still hungry. Jeongguk practically had to stave him off from stealing his banana. “Uh, shit, yeah, okay.” He had both of their attention now. Words were never all that difficult for Taehyung. “There’s really no other way to say this, but Sugar from Void is my professor now. Actually, it’s Min Yoongi. That’s his real name and he asked me not to tell anyone, but well, that’s impossible with you two, and I needed to be able to vent, so now you know.” Jeongguk turned to meet the slow look that Hoseok was casting him, their shared expressions blank, and unreadable. It was quiet for an appropriate duration, as it should be. Maybe now Taehyung could have a moment to himself, when – Hoseok was the first one to crack, giggling himself into a state of hysterics. Jeongguk soon joined him, pressing a hand to his stomach he was laughing so hard. Even his stupid bunny teeth were out on display, both their faces were scrunched up, and dumb – horrifically dumb looking. “Sweet fuck, you’re good,” Hoseok said, wiping the tears from the sides of his face. “Like, drop your major, and get into acting. Immediately.” “I’m not joking. He even dyed his hair black and he keeps his tattoos hidden.” Taehyung looked to Hoseok. “I heard about you, by the way. You’re into dommes?” Jeongguk paused, then. “Wait, hyung. You’re serious?” “As a heart attack.” Taehyung wished it was all just some cruel, twisted joke. Too bad that it wasn’t. “He’s my professor now and if you don’t believe me, then feel free to walk me to class tomorrow.” Hoseok sobered up some, no longer amused. “You told Tae about my time at Void?” “About the stiletto, all of it,” Taehyung said, waving it away like it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day, it didn’t. It changed nothing and it didn’t fix any of his problems. “Also, why in the hell aren’t you reacting to the fact that I went to a bdsm club?” The elder was beyond confused, still dwelling on Taehyung’s previous statement, “Because you’re still fucking straightedge and I’m so sorry for not being proud about that fact, but what about me and stilettos?” Jeongguk shook his head, trying to keep his banana inside his mouth. “It was nothing, hyung.” “Sure doesn’t sound like it was nothing. Did Jeongguk make a domme joke…” Hoseok asked, speaking in a tone that was painfully tart. “…at my expense?” He sighed, turning to Taehyung. “I went to see if I’d liked to be dom’d for a change. Turns out that I’m a perfectly healthy switch.” “Your coming out as bi speech was a bigger shock to us and even that was pretty mild,” Jeongguk murmured, when his phone went off again. This time he took the time to remove the battery.                           It made Taehyung feel uncomfortable, since he was inclined to believe that it was Jimin, and if so, what the fuck was his friend doing? Jeongguk was already in deep enough shit as it was and now the brat was ignoring his ‘master’. He couldn’t stop himself from being nosey, “Who keeps messaging you?” Hoseok nudged the youngest boy, “It’s him, right?” Jeongguk nodded, somewhat guiltily, “I told him I can’t see him until Friday. It kinda goes against our agreement, though.” “Are you avoiding him?” Taehyung asked, unable to look at his dongsaeng, even while Jeongguk was staring directly at him. He shrugged, “I’m just not in a rush.” Hoseok looked back and forth between them, “Okay. What the fuck did I miss?” A lot, Taehyung wanted to say and leave it at that, but he had no choice but to fill Hoseok in on every ridiculous detail about last week, from Taehyung being dragged inside the club to then later being hauled outside of it by Jeongguk. Hoseok kept quiet for once, only stopping to either laugh or to agree – agreeing that, yes, the drink menu was atrocious, and that Jeongguk was sorely fucked. And Taehyung felt responsible. “Alright, well, one thing is clear,” Hoseok said, pointing his spoon at Taehyung. “You’re like, just as fucked as Guk is, and I’d wish you luck, but I hope your Mary Poppins, umbrella wielding ass fails.” Jeongguk shook his head, stealing Hoseok’s phone to check the time. “I have to leave for a hair appointment in twenty-ish minutes.” “If you need a quick buzz, I can do it,” the elder offered, shrugging like it was no biggie, no big fucking deal.   “It’s not getting cut.” Jeongguk never did anything new with his hair, at least not in a long, long while. Taehyung was intrigued by this, “You’re getting it dyed?” Hoseok teased him, “Did you get permission from your master?” “Fuck his permission,” Jeongguk said and that was when Taehyung realized his friend’s poor defense mechanism, and grew more worried. The younger was apparently the type to make one mistake and then keep on going, because why stop there? Why do bad, when Jeongguk was capable of doing so much worse? Shit. It was one thing if Jeongguk never planned on returning to Void, but he did – so, what the fuck? Taehyung didn’t know much about the BDSM world and he knew even less about Jeongguk’s relationship with Jimin, but it felt wrong. Maybe if he was more of a friend and less of judgmental piece of shit, then he would be stopping Jeongguk, but he wasn’t. “I call dibs on your camera,” Hoseok said, already at peace with Jeongguk’s decision. Great. They parted ways after lunch was over, Taehyung taking his anti-social ass back to his dorm room. He declined Hoseok’s offer to watch him work on his choreo, because that could last forever, and ever. And it didn’t need to be said, but Jeongguk clearly wanted to be alone, even if he shouldn’t be left to his own devices. Taehyung slammed his hip into the door, shoving it open. He dropped his bag onto his bed. It was seldom that Taehyung had spare time. However, with what little Professor Min offered as studying materials, he had no other choice but to rest. He fired up his laptop, before digging into the fridge, knowing that it would take a good ten minutes for his desktop to fully load. It was an older model, but he couldn’t be bothered to replace it due to lack of income. Food was better than technology, anyway.   The scarf slid free from around his neck, the gradual pull causing him chills. He couldn’t help but think back to what Yoongi had said, about doing an over-arm tie. What was it? A shibari thing? He settled on a bag of stale chips and sat down in front of his laptop. It was ridiculous, waiting a whole five minutes for his browser to popup, just so that he could further look into what went through Yoongi’s mind. He typed ‘over-arm tie shibari’ into the search engine and let it run. He wasn’t particularly interested in looking at the websites or videos, only the images. There were many different ways of doing the tie, apparently, some more constricting, than others. This hardly satisfied Taehyung’s curiosity, since he had no idea how Yoongi would have done it or what the outcome would have even looked like. Pulling up another tab, he typed in Void. There was an official site, the page coming up in predictable colors of black and red. He snorted, reading over the flattering descriptions of the club’s ambiance, learning that there were themed rooms, which would explain the many left and right turns inside the hallway corridor. Taehyung was in no way interested in finding out what the Enchanted Forest room was like, no, not at all. There wasn’t a staff page, which kind of went hand-in-hand with protecting the identity of Void’s workers and attendees. The only photos provided were of the outside of the club and the lounge area, but it was empty. When he clicked to make an appointment, he found Sugar on the list with a similar description as his chalkboard, minus the middle finger. Out of curiosity, Taehyung checked the calendar to see how many bookings he currently had – whistling low, because holy shit. He was busy for the next two months. ‘Consent to me…’ A flash of pretty, black hypnotic eyes and soft, curvy lips damn near caught him off-guard. Did Yoongi say these things to everyone else? He had to of, right? ‘Submit to me…’ Did he already have other submissives under contract? Of course he did. It wasn’t as though Taehyung was special. Yoongi’s pursuit was just his fucked up way of pocketing another shiny new toy.   At the bottom of the page was a link that read, ‘Are You BDSM Curious? Take a test to find out your results’. Taehyung wasn’t curious, this was not curiosity, but he clicked on it anyway. Some form of homework had to be done this evening. The first page was pretty standard, but the quiz itself had him scoffing at every question. The percentage of completion was racking up, until he made it to the very end, and received his results. It seemed silly, because although he might’ve been intrigued by shibari, he was not a rope bunny. Not like Jeongguk or maybe not at all? Look – so, maybe he was a little bit curious. So what? He wasn’t about ready to go and do anything with that information. A notification on the right side of his taskbar slowly and jaggedly crawled its way up. He had his school email linked up to his computer. The ‘ding’ had arrived a bit late. It was something from the Head of the Art History Department, Professor Min Yoongi. All of his classmates were CC’d in the following message that read: Good Evening, Class. I’d like to thank you all for showing me such kindness on my first day and I’m looking forward to helping you along on your paths. I’ve created a cohesive outline for this semester’s syllabus from Professor Jung’s notes and left the link down below. I have called to confirm the approach that I’m taking and he agreed that it was well-structured, and much like what he had in mind for you. He also requested that I am to be open with you, not only as a mentor, but also as a person. As I understand it, Professor Jung shared a lot about himself with his students, so I’ll do the same with an introduction.     Here’s a little bit about me that wasn’t on the chalkboard today. I was born and raised in a small town in Daegu. I’ll be turning thirty this coming March. I have a toy poodle named Holly. During my free time, I like to create music, and discover new coffee joints. If you have any recommendations, let me know. Also, like Professor Jung, my passion for art has taken me all across Europe, and made me fall in love with the study all over again. I’d like to note that it’s mandatory for all students to give me their contact numbers in the event that they are late for class, or an exam. I expect you to reply back to this email with your information. Today’s lecture is in the attachment for those of you who’d like to look over the notes and again, check out the syllabus. Expect to receive the notes within the first few hours after each class, unless stated otherwise. Sincerely, Professor Min Taehyung had just learned things that he didn’t want to know about Yoongi. For one, he was going to be thirty soon, had a cute dog named Holly, and he travelled around Europe? How convenient that he avoided mentioning what he actually does during his free time. Whatever. The person Professor Min tried to come off as was nothing more than a sham, this was his façade, his Clark Kent identity. Although, Taehyung did appreciate how thorough he was, giving the students access to the syllabus, and attaching the notes – crucial notes that Taehyung failed to jot down during today’s lecture. He closed out of the email, dismissing the professor’s request. Professor Min wasn’t getting his goddamn digits. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Jeongguk got through his week by doing things he knew Jimin would disapprove of – things that went against the terms and agreement of their contract. Two months wasn’t a very long time in the BDSM scene, but the younger fit right in. Admittedly, there was always something missing in Jeongguk’s life, and in all of his relationships. He wasn’t interested in girls from the beginning, but he also wasn’t interested in boys, either. He thought that he would drift in limbo forever, until his last year of high school, where a party was being held back home in Busan. His first sexual experience was with a smaller boy, both in height and width – in all ways. He was just so very little and precious in comparison, on the outside at least, and Jeongguk didn’t want to ruin him. He wanted to be careful, but the other boy only wanted to be broken. Jeongguk was always better at listening to orders, anyway, so there was comfort in being told what to do, and exactly how to do it. So, he took that fragile boy apart just as he wished, but a pattern had formed, however. The stronger Jeongguk became, the more he seemed to attract breakable people. They wanted to be dominated by him. Perhaps that’s why Jimin was everything to him. He was strong, yet elegant, small, but unbreakable. Jeongguk recalled the first time he saw Jimin. He was decked out in a fitted leather one piece that he never saw again, except for in his dreams. When his birthday rolled around, he’d be sure to make a request. Jeongguk vividly remembered falling in love with fifty inches of pretty, baby pink hemp rope. Not the color, but the rope itself. Jimin was teaching the audience how to properly create a dragonfly harness. Jeongguk stood front and center, listening attentively as Jimin went over the basics, while practicing on someone who was randomly picked from the crowd. ‘A lucky bastard,’ was the unanimous response he was picking up on from the spectators around him. Jimin started off with explaining what the bight of the rope was, to the sensitive areas of the body where rope constriction could cause nerve damage. By the end of the lesson, Jeongguk had learned that the art of shibari was beautiful, but it was also dangerous, and any misstep could lead to serious injury. Naturally, he liked it even more for that reason. He was an adrenaline junkie, chasing after one risky endeavor to the next, Jimin being the most hazardous. He not only gave his body to the experience, but he also gave away everything else that was inside him, both the good, and the bad. BDSM was the act of exposing his fears and insecurities, wrapping it up with a neat little ribbon, and handing it over to Jimin – trusting him to take care of it.   His master always handled him as though he were something delicate. Jeongguk had never been perceived as soft in his entire life. Not ever, until Jimin, which was why last week when he saw Jimin pressing light kisses into Seokjin’s wrists, Jeongguk had felt terribly cold. He realized that everyone was treated this way with Jimin. Every submissive was precious to him, was met with the same amount of warmth, and understanding. A shibari expert had to be precise. Every bit of Jimin’s practice was about equal distribution. It was windy on his walk from his car towards the club, a thin layer of frost covering the pavement. Jeongguk pulled the doors open to Void, stepping inside its warmth. His skin was tingling, but it wasn’t from the cold. He was nervous.   “It’s been a whole minute, hasn’t it, Jeongguk,” Hwasa said with a purr of seduction, a well-known domme leaning against the reception desk. She was outwardly impatient, moving her long, jet black hair over to one shoulder. The change with Jeongguk’s hair was an obvious one and she was not-so subtly taking it all in. Hwasa’s laugh was both soft, and unkind, “Oh my…Did your master agree to all of this?” A second passed without an answer, when she said, “I’m going to assume, ‘no’. Jimin wouldn’t like the idea of you drawing too much attention to yourself.” The receptionist returned from the backroom holding a stack of freshly printed documents in her hand, humming to a song that Jeongguk couldn’t recognize. She greeted him, sweetly, before busying herself with paperclipping and tucking the papers away into a folder. She handed it over to Hwasa, “Here’s your contract, mistress. Congratulations on your new pet.” “Thank you, Claire,” she practically cooed, leaning forward so that she could skim the girl’s cheek with her leather clad fingertips. “What do you think of Jeongguk’s new look?” “It’s the color of fresh strawberries and I absolutely love it.” The receptionist – well, his now favorite receptionist, shot him a wink. “The usual room is ready for you, but I advise against keeping your master waiting. He has quite the temper as of late.” Well, fuck. Hwasa glanced up at his hair for one last time with fire in her eyes, “Good luck, little rabbit. Oh, and do make sure to give Hoseok my love next time you see him.” If Jeongguk wasn’t in the obituaries tomorrow, he’ll do that for her, right. He bowed to her, mannerism of especially high importance at Void, although he was usually polite no matter where he was, so it wasn’t much of a task for him. He walked down the corridor, making several rights, until he was met with doors made up of black steel, and floors of pristine marble. It was the east appointment wing, where the best rooms were reserved – in Jeongguk’s opinion, anyway.   Room Nine belonged to them – he and Jimin. The boy stood outside, giving himself a moment, because beyond that door could mean the end of their arrangement. Jeongguk had broken so many rules, unthinkingly, having been so overcome with jealousy that he kept on going. He didn’t even know how to stop himself, concerned only with hurting Jimin in whatever way he could manage it, which wasn’t a healthy reaction, but it was too late to dwell on what was wrong, or right. What’s done is done. He stepped into the room, comforted by the familiar surroundings of black walls and dark tiles. It was meant to be an empty space, save for what the scene professional required for the session. The first thing he noticed was a simple table and chair setup at the center of the room. Covering the surface was an array of red, tapered paraffin candles that were already lit and melting down. Unsafe, leaving the display unattended, but…A crisp sheet of paper lying upon the surface caught Jeongguk’s attention, and as he walked closer to examine it, he realized that it was his submissive contract with Jimin. He tried not to overreact, steeling himself, as he continued taking in the room, trying to figure out what Jimin wanted to do with him. There was a suspension frame over towards the back of the room, which wasn’t all that surprising for a shibari expert. He couldn’t help but to stare back down at the contract, feeling scared for a change. One of the basic rules that were agreed upon when coming to an appointment, was that Jeongguk would be completely bare, as he waited for his master. He started the ritual of removing his clothing, folding his coat – the fabric of his shirt was purposefully light on his skin, because he didn’t expect to leave unscathed tonight. He was left wearing only his collar. It was made of real black leather with a white gold rabbit dangle pendant at the center, hence all the nicknames. Jimin’s baby bunny. Jeongguk lowered himself onto the smooth, black tiles in front of the door, resting his hands in his lap. The silence was more unwelcomed, than the pain from his kneeled position. After several long minutes, Jeongguk wondered if his master was going to show up at all. That maybe, this was some sort of new punishment, when the door was being opened, and softly clicked shut. Jeongguk doesn’t dare look at him, keeping his eyes on the floor. The sound of Jimin’s footfalls was light against the cold floor – his double strapped, Italian leather shoes coming into Jeongguk’s line of vision. Jimin was standing directly in front of him, being eerily quiet. Neither of them had gone a day without seeing each other for weeks. Then again, submissives weren’t known for punishing their dominants with such things. Jimin spoke, softly, “Look at me.” Jeongguk obeyed the command, lifting his face to bravely meet the pair of dark, narrowed eyes piercing through him. A short huff of disbelief escaped Jimin’s lips, as he took in the deep pink color of Jeongguk’s hair. “Is it permanent?” he asked, while his thick, slack covered legs brought him closer to where Jeongguk was kneeling. Jimin was dressed with intent to kill him, apparently, wearing a sleeveless top, showing off his arms – delicate muscles toned, and strong-looking. A black harness clung to his slender frame.   It was difficult for Jeongguk to not break out into a smile. “Yes, master.” Jimin raised an eyebrow at him, “You did this to upset me?” “Why?” Jeongguk actually did smile that time, unable to help it. “Did it work?” Something cold and feral flashed across Jimin’s soft features, actions abrupt when he was suddenly gripping at the soft, pink strands of Jeongguk’s hair. The younger hissed at the sharp pain, his head yanked back from the forced motion. Jimin planted his feet between Jeongguk’s thighs, leaning down to speak carefully to him. “You answer questions with questions now, bun?” he practically seethed, showing a new side of himself that the younger had never seen before. Jimin tugged the hair by its roots, taking in all of Jeongguk’s small gasps. “Are you aware of how many rules you’ve broken? Ten and that’s if I’m not being picky about it, which is why I brought along our contract. You are in serious need of being reminded as to what the rules are here. I want you to go sit in the chair at the table.” He released Jeongguk from his grip, hearing him whimper at the sore, bruising sensation radiating across his scalp. Fuck. The younger was about to stand up, when he was shoved down onto his back – the top of Jimin’s shoe pressing hard into his shoulder. Jimin tilted his head at him, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “You don’t deserve to walk. You’re going to have to crawl for me.” Jeongguk felt his face flush at this, skin becoming hot, as he turned over onto his hands and knees. The floors were unkind, as he started to slowly crawl towards the table. It wasn’t much distance to cover, but it was still humiliating. The worst part was that his cock was heavy between his legs, having been hard since the moment he arrived at the club – that, on top of Jimin’s rough treatment, and already Jeongguk was fucked. He grabbed onto the seat of the chair, using it to pull himself up, until he was sitting down. Jeongguk was less than pleased with the whole ordeal, once again being confronted with the contract. The first time he signed it, he was in Jimin’s lap – sighing, as he received small bites at the back of his arm from crooked teeth. There’d been warmth and excitement, but now there was only tension, and hushed anger. There was a Table of Contents section for their contract that consisted of many things, like; Terms, Submissive’s Goals, Rules, Rights of Master, Communication, Punishment, Exclusivity, Limits, Safe Word, Termination of Contract. “Turn to the rules,” Jimin said, as he casually picked up one of the burning candles from its holder. Jeongguk recognized the paraffin wax as what Jimin typically used, but not usually so thin. Sometimes not even sticks at all, but the melts. The younger turned to the exact page and waited for further instruction. He was on edge, anticipating the feel of hot wax meeting his skin. “Ten rules were broken and I want you to guess which. For each rule you get wrong, I will correct you, and give you a punishment. Do you understand?” He nodded, “Yes, master.” “Broken rule number one is what?” Jimin asked, standing behind the boy. Jeongguk read over the printed letters in front of him, finding the first one rather easily. He read it aloud, “Cosmetic changes without permission.” Jimin’s voice was soft and appraising, “Very good, bun. What’s the second?” It was the rule that started it all. Jeongguk grimaced, “Collar accessory either forgotten to be worn or lost.” “That one especially upset me. Next rule.” “Appointment avoidance or sudden cancellations,” Jeongguk murmured, thinking about the many times Jimin tried calling him personally, instead of having the receptionist do it for him. He even started texting Jeongguk, which brought upon the next broken rule. “Coming without permission…” “Ah, yes,” Jimin smirked, wryly, tempted to drip the wax on the smooth, flawless plain of Jeongguk’s back, when the brat deserved much worse. “The lovely pictures of your spent cock, right after I told you not to touch yourself.” Jeongguk was running out of broken rules that fit their current situation. The next one was a guess. “Undermining the dominant’s superiority.” “That’s only five and yet you sound so very lost. You have three seconds to give me the next rule…” The countdown was slow and generous, almost like Jimin knew that he’d have his chance to paint the younger with wax, one way or the other. The sentence came out rushed, “Talking back to the dominant with usage of foul language or speaking out of turn without permission.”   Even if Jeongguk was safe, if it was only for but a moment, since every other rule didn’t seem to apply. There was still four more to go. Jeongguk tried his best to sound confident, “Failed to meet personal goal that the dominant – a-ah!” The boy cried out, as the hot wax was dripped onto his skin in a long, messy path of red that ran down the length of his spine. Jimin was enthralled by the sight of it, always – always so fascinated, as he crouched down to brush his petite fingers over Jeongguk’s sensitive skin, the dried wax flaking off in the process. He murmured the answer, quietly, “Seven, acting on impulse or behaving irrationally due to an emotional episode, brought upon by jealousy.” Jeongguk had to choke back his rebuttal of, ‘fuck you’. Instead, he roamed his eyes over the list for potential responses. This next one couldn’t have been right, but any answer was better than none at all. “Interacting with another dominant at a social event such as…” Jeongguk stopped the moment he felt hot rivulets of wax sliding along the side of his neck, gasping sharply. Jimin stood up, so that he could drape his arms around Jeongguk’s front. There – he blew cool air onto the wax beneath Jeongguk’s ear, before he whispered huskily, “Eight, failing to disclose all current romantic entanglements with individuals within or outside of the practice of BDSM...” Was he seriously referring to Taehyung? Wouldn’t this go down as Jimin doubting his character and loyalty through making baseless assumptions? There was a rule against that somewhere.               Jeongguk was annoyed at that point, as he shot back, “How about being falsely accused and or punished by the dominant, for having romantic feelings that don’t exist.” “How about it’s whatever the fuck I say it is,” Jimin said, as he brought the heat of the flame to the boy’s chest, so dangerously close to licking his skin. The jealousy issues were mutual, apparently. Jimin continued, evenly, “Nine, being dishonest with the dominant. We can safely say that you haven’t been completely honest with me, bun.” “Neither have y–” Before Jeongguk could finish his sentence, Jimin tilted his wrist, allowing the wax to drip over an erect nipple. This sent Jeongguk’s back against the chair in an attempt to escape the intense sensation. Jimin kept his arm around him, as he extended his reach to start painting over the younger’s skin in other soft, sensitive areas – Jeongguk’s thighs receiving most of the attention. By the time he was finished pouring, the boy was shaking in his arms, as the cool air in the room swept over his burns. He was pink wherever the wax had touched – pink, a color that was to be associated with Jeongguk given his recent choices. “Ten, leaving without being dismissed, which believe me, you will never,” Jimin laughed, still livid over the fact that his submissive had the gall to do such a thing. He pressed his nose into Jeongguk’s hair, “…ever do that to me again.” Jeongguk whimpered, somewhat pitifully, “No, master.” “When you signed the contract, you knew that I would be meeting with other clients. Seokjin is a friend and a colleague. In my opinion, this fact should have upset you less, or not at all.” Jimin placed the candle down back in its holder. “And before you try uselessly defending yourself in regards to your bestie, understand that I don’t care to hear about it. Wanna know what happens when someone touches what’s mine?” Jeongguk bit at the side of his lip, unsure if he honestly wanted to know where Jimin was going with it. “Please, tell me.” The dominant leaned himself away, so that they were no longer touching. “It loses its value.” Jeongguk closed his eyes against the words. It was a secret fear of his, one – that he’d kept under control for the most part. The fear of boring Jimin to the point where all of this would stop and that he would be disowned was difficult for him to handle, which was terrifying, given how little time they’ve spent together.                                                                               Jimin extended his hand out to him, “Come.” The boy’s reaction was automatic, not requiring any thought at all, as he slid his fingers through the dominant’s, locking them together. He was pulled up from the chair. Jeongguk was being bigger and taller, but their differences in height and build only served as another aspect of enjoyment.     The wax was peeling and flaking away with movement, leaving behind a path of play debris. Jeongguk was well aware that he was about to be tied up, which was a present more than a punishment, really. Jimin brought him to stand beneath the steel suspension frame, before going to unzip the duffle bag he placed down while he was setting up the equipment, taking out inches of brand-new jute rope. “There’s more to your punishment, bun,” Jimin said, as started unraveling the many layers. “And you were kind enough to give me a nice, long time to think about what I was going to do with you and what would be sufficient enough to appease me.” He moved to stand in front of Jeongguk, instructing him to put his elbows together. “The safe word for tonight is something I know you don’t want to say to me, otherwise you would have said it by now.” Jimin was quick to grab the boy by his chin, forcing Jeongguk to meet his eyes. “It’s ‘sorry’.” The elder released him in favor of binding Jeongguk’s wrists into a double column tie, stressing all of the tightening on the top band of rope, so that it wouldn’t pinch the submissive’s skin. Jimin teased his fingers through the layers to ensure of this, before he went overhand with the rope. The tie itself resembled cuffs. “Put your arms behind your head.”                                                                                                   Jeongguk did as he was told, struggling to calm his racing heart when Jimin fed the rope through the suspension ring on the steel bar, and tugged on it. “Bend over at the waist for me.” Once the anchor was accurately proportioned, Jimin began securing the knot around the ring and the frame, giving Jeongguk enough inches of rope for the position he required. “Perfect. You can stand for now. How do you feel?” “Good,” Jeongguk said, eyes following Jimin, as he started to remove more rope from his bag. It was black like the set around his wrists. The rigger was then on his knees in front of Jeongguk, moving the rope above his hips. The material dug into his skin in a way that was familiar and he couldn’t help, but sigh in comfort. Jimin didn’t react to it, choosing to work in silence, doing his best to avoid Jeongguk’s swollen, leaking cock – otherwise it could end up in his fist, or his mouth. He pulled the rope around the boy’s left and right thigh, mirroring them to look exactly the same – steadily working him into a diamond harness.   Jimin doesn’t know what a submissive will look like in one of his intricate webs, but he enjoyed fantasizing about it. It was all part of his fun. And when he first saw Jeongguk, the kid was dressed in layers dark baggy clothes, leaving perhaps too damn much to the imagination. Still, he fantasized. Now imagine Jimin’s surprise to see Jeongguk at one of his eight-o-clock appointments, shyly asking to be tied up. The boy turned out to be so much more, superseding anything he could have ever dreamed of – standing at the perfect height with the ideal build, waist so tiny. Jeongguk was so, so very pretty, almost unreasonably so. Dressing the submissive up in nothing but rope had its effects, where not even an experienced dom like Jimin was immune to it. It was often a difficult task to pleasure his little bunny, without wanting to please himself, perhaps even selfishly at times. In their contract, Jeongguk had consented to being penetrated with whatever Jimin felt necessary, be it with toys or his own cock. Jeongguk had begged, sometimes even with tears in his eyes, but the elder would not relent. He’d never had the boy in that manner, never made him his own in that way, not completely. It wasn’t something he did with any of his clients. However, Jeongguk, usually so well behaved – his best behaved boy, tested him on a daily basis. He slid the rope beneath the firm cheeks of Jeongguk’s ass, pushing them up – merely accentuating an already flattering part of his body. The harness was climbing up from his thighs to past his hips. The goal was to stop at the center of his chest, bringing the working ends through loops, and around his spine. When Jimin had run out of rope, he grabbed for more, forming a lark’s head knot, and pulling the first rope through in order to finish it. Jimin got up – stepping away to admire his work, combing his delicate fingers through his styled, silver locks. The black rope stood out against Jeongguk’s winter pale skin, so beautiful in contrast. Any color seemed to compliment him, making it difficult to have a favorite.     The elder finally tore his eyes from the delectable sight of his submissive, taking the duffle bag from the floor to bring it over by the table, emptying it of its contents. “I have gifts for you, bun, though you hardly deserve them.” Jeongguk couldn’t make out any of the items from the distance that he was at, although he still attempted to do so, straining against his bondage, but it was futile. “I hope you like them. You’re already familiar with this one,” Jimin said, stalking back over towards Jeongguk, waving his purchase from the fetish boutique. It was an adjustable cock ring that consisted of leather straps, rubber, and studded snaps. “Thank you, master,” Jeongguk murmured, voice breathy and light, uncertain of how well the ring would fit him, given the fact that he was already so painfully hard. Jimin hummed in response, pulling out the travel sized bottle of lubricant from his pocket, and pushing the cap open to pour it over Jeongguk’s heated length. He jumped at the coldness, unable to get very far when the slightest bit of movement was met with restriction. Jimin took hold of the younger’s cock into a tight grip, earning him a deep, guttural moan. Jimin stroked over him once – twice, before pausing to stare up into Jeongguk’s warm, brown eyes, “You’re so beautiful.” It was difficult for him to form a proper response, when his dick was pulsating, but Jeongguk managed, given the fact that the compliment was the first hint of sweetness Jimin had shown him this evening. “Only with master’s help…” “How true…” Jimin said, somewhat smug as he slid the ring down to the base of Jeongguk’s cock. There was something appealing about how breathy and overwhelmed the younger was, while he worked the leather straps around his balls, snapping the material in place. Cock rings tended to leave Jeongguk twice as sensitive, and so very, very easy. Jimin released him non-too-gently, his touch still lingering on the boy’s skin, “You have a few more presents.” The dom proceeded back towards the table, returning with both hands occupied. “I think I have an issue with spoiling you, bun.” The humiliation came in the form of a tall, white rabbit eared headband. He ran the velvety material along the vulnerable underside of Jeongguk’s arm, Jimin’s dark, playful eyes gauging his every reaction. A soft gasp escaped into the quiet room, when he skimmed over the boy’s rope covered thigh next. The area was still pink and tingling from the wax. Jimin continued on with the slow torment, teasing the fur across Jeongguk’s chest, catching his nipples – knowing that he would be overwhelmed by it, when he arched his back. “Have you had enough?” Jimin mused, as he leaned onto his toes to place the headband behind Jeongguk’s ears. He played with a few choice strands, tucking his pink bangs back, styling the younger however he saw fit. Frankly, Jimin thought it was criminal whenever Jeongguk’s forehead was kept hidden. “All bunnies have really pretty ears,” Jimin said, slipping two fingers beneath the collar around Jeongguk’s throat, slowly running his thumb over the rabbit pendant – when a single tug suddenly jerked him forward, their lips less than an inch away from touching, breaths mingling as one. “You know what else they have? Pretty little tails...” Jimin pressed an ironically chaste kiss to Jeongguk’s mouth that left the younger aching for more. Jimin revealed to him what was in his other hand. It was a puff of white fur attached to a plug that was made of black glass. He took in Jeongguk’s expression with open amusement, watched as the pink in his cheeks turned scarlet, like a fever was having its way with him. Jimin trailed his gaze down to where Jeongguk’s cock was pitifully swollen within the confines of the ring, where a thick bead of precum had formed at the tip. The elder chuckled, softly, “What a naughty little thing you are, already leaking from the thought of having your hole filled.” Jimin moved so that he was standing behind him, pressing an insistent hand against the small of his back – bending Jeongguk at the waist. The rope around his wrists allowed him to do this to a certain extent, the tie specifically in place to hold him up. “Spread your legs for me,” Jimin said, giving him less than a second to perform the task, before he did it himself – wedging Jeongguk’s thighs far apart with his own. Jimin slid his cold, lube slicked fingers down the cleft of Jeongguk’s ass, slowly teasing over his hole – getting him all wet and sticky, before he pushed in with a slender digit. Usually, his master wore gloves, but he didn’t for this occasion. Jeongguk trusted him to do whatever he pleased, consenting to him fully, but the smallest of details seemed to matter more to him when he was convinced that it was love. “You’re such a good bunny,” Jimin cooed, taking his time working Jeongguk open with expert fingers – knowing exactly how far to push him, where to press into him so deep, before he struck the boy exactly where he needed it the most. The constant tightening of Jeongguk’s rim around his fingers, coupled by the soft little sounds he was making sent pulses of arousal straight to Jimin’s cock. He nearly lost himself to it, “You’re always so fucking tight. Was that boy really just your friend? You didn’t let him fuck you, you – the slut with three of my fingers up his ass?” “It’s because I’m yours…” Jeongguk gasped out, the familiar burn in his belly threatened to spill over, his thighs beginning to quake. He was already so close. “Can I come, please? Please.” “Awe, no, bunny. You can’t,” Jimin said, as he removed each digit one at a time, being so very careful with him. Jeongguk whimpered at the emptiness he felt, when he heard the sound of the cap to the lube being opened again. Jimin squeezed a generous amount of it onto the plug, before he pressed the cool, sleek glass against his dripping hole – slipping into him with ease, filling the younger up with warmth, until he was met with the thick, bulbous part of the toy. Jeongguk bit at his bottom lip to hold in his cries, when Jimin slowly, but firmly sank the rest of the plug into him, stretching him beyond what he’d ever felt, when it wasn’t even that large to begin with. Spiteful almost, Jimin patted the tail, delighting in the choked sob that was elicited in response. “You’re so good for me,” Jimin murmured, as he caressed each of his ass cheeks into his palms, warming up the area for what was soon to come. The dom’s words were soft and affectionate, “My precious little bunny. You’re an absolute dream.” Jeongguk’s skin was on fire, embarrassed by the compliment, “T-Thank you, master.” “I worked really hard on this last present,” Jimin said, finally coming into view again just to tease Jeongguk with distance itself. He could hardly stand it, especially needy when he was reduced into subspace. “Each time I missed you, I worked on it a little bit more. However, it was my recent…disappointment that gave me the motivation to finish it.” The last and final item was a handmade paddle. Crafting and modifying was one of Jimin’s many hobbies. He enjoyed customizing everything that he owned, making every bit of the experience personal. It was how he expressed one of the many acts of control that most dominants seemed to possess in one way or another. For the paddle itself, he’d started from scratch with a jigsaw blade, and a sander. It took time – time Jimin never seemed to have enough of lately. He found a cheap set of rabbit stencils at a local art supply store, penciled them onto the wood, and then carved them out with kanna tools. He raised the paddle in his hand, showing it off to Jeongguk, watching as his doe eyes widened. “Do you like it, bun?” Jeongguk nodded his pink head, to which Jimin gave him a free pass, because even he’d been astonished by the finished product. It was absolutely beautiful and possibly his new favorite toy. The paddle was thick and wide where it mattered, its surface smooth. He pressed the flat of it against the boy’s cheek, allowing him to feel it. Jeongguk lifted his face with the motion, meeting the heavy weight of Jimin’s dark, narrowed eyes. Jesus. “It’s going to leave pretty little bunny indents all across your ass…” the elder murmured, voice like a caress, when he stepped behind the submissive. “Your limit has always been fifteen with a paddle, but I think you can handle more. And since your insubordination hurt me twice as much, we’re going to double the count to thirty. Do you understand?” Jeongguk closed his eyes at the declaration, resigning himself to his fate. “Yes, master.” A thuddy paddle was exceptionally more painful and Jeongguk deserved every little bit of it. Jimin gently pressed the wooden surface between the boy’s cheeks and upper thighs. The familiar burst of adrenaline rushed through his veins, when he reeled back his wrist, and came down firmly. The heavy impact was enough to send ripples of pain across Jeongguk’s body, hitting all of his most sensitive places. Jimin was the one counting in a low growl, as he distributed each stroke of the paddle evenly – changing up the spot the moment he felt Jeongguk had become too comfortable. He watched as the boy jolted, even though he knew it was coming, and he listened to him cry, even though he loved it. Jeongguk had such a pretty voice – his whimpers and moans as melodic as a chirp from a songbird. The flesh of his ass was a burning shade of red, save for the rabbit outlines that were coming out stark, and beautiful against his tender skin. “Twenty-two,” Jimin said, as he once again rolled his wrist – the wood meeting the fluffy tail, causing Jeongguk to tug hard at the restraints around his wrists, trembling. “C–Can I come, please?” he asked, voice raw and broken, as every stroke of the paddle made his muscles tense around the plug, drawing it into him deeper. The sting of pain only served as another form of pleasure that was overwhelming him. It felt like an eternity since he was hard, continuing to pathetically leak precum down the side of his cock. “You can come just from this…” Jimin laughed, because of course – of course Jeongguk was capable of doing such a thing. “The answer is no, bun. You can’t come yet and if you do, I’ll make you wish that you hadn’t.” The threat was followed up by another loud, heavy fall of the paddle. The bite from it was enough to tear a scream from the back of Jeongguk’s throat. Jimin rubbed the abused skin with the wood, before he immediately landed another spank – testing Jeongguk, daring him to go against his command. With only seven more left to go, Jimin chose each spot carefully, knowing exactly where Jeongguk needed it. And despite having been certain that the boy would quickly release within the short pauses between each tingling smack, he’d somehow managed to focus on doing the exact opposite. Jimin’s voice was thick and heady with arousal, having already reached his limit in all manners of the word, “Thirty.” This was the moment where he should be lovingly praising his submissive. He should soothe Jeongguk’s skin, care for him – forgive him, even. But there were outcomes that Jimin had anticipated. One, Jeongguk would end up saying the safe word before he reached the end of the count or two, he would come, which would bring upon another punishment, but neither happened. See, Jeongguk was a very, very good boy. Jimin set the paddle down against the wall behind him. He usually kept a pair of scissors on him in case of emergencies, but tonight he carried one of his favorite karambit safety knives. He retrieved it from his back pocket and started cutting through the rope keeping Jeongguk’s wrists restrained. With the boy in his bent position, Jimin had no problem with reaching it – keeping his hand above Jeongguk’s, protecting him from any chances of meeting the blade, however minute. “I want you lying on the floor, on your stomach,” Jimin said, as he curved his fingers under one of the many knots of rope in the event that Jeongguk’s wobbly legs gave out once his arms were freed, and no longer suspended. They didn’t, but the elder helped lower him onto the smooth tiles anyway. Jeongguk gasped when his warm skin met the cold, uncomfortable surface. Jimin left the knife out, as he joined Jeongguk on the floor. He straddled the back of his well-muscled thighs, enclosing them tightly within his own. There were rope marks left on the boy’s wrists that would be gone over night. “I’d try to get comfortable while you still can, bun.” The dom’s tone was mockingly regretful. “The thing is – you’re such a good boy for me, that when you step out of line, it’s unexpected, and when it’s unexpected, it makes me very angry. I’m still so very angry with you.” Jeongguk breathed out, shakily, “I’m sorry.” “Sorry, ‘stop’ or sorry that you were wrong?” Jimin asked him, as he shamelessly roamed his eyes over Jeongguk’s sprawled form, completely at his mercy – if willing.   “I’m sorry that I tried to make you angry.” “Oh, you didn’t try, little bunny,” he laughed, the bitter sound of it running down the length of Jeongguk’s spine. “You succeeded.” The boy tensed when he felt something cold being pressed against his back, knowing that it was the steel of Jimin’s blade. “I need you to be still for me...” He nodded his compliance, when the pressure around his midsection was released. Jimin had cut the knots leading down to his waist, but avoided the rope incasing his thighs. Jimin put the knife away, taking in the endless amount of soft, smooth skin along Jeongguk’s back. He was like a herculean trope, all healthy, and fit – half boy, half god. So pretty that Jimin wanted to ruin him, as he dug his short nails into the back of Jeongguk’s neck, and then slowly dragged them down, listening as the boy drew in a sharp breath. The elder adjusted his hips to better follow his path into the dip of Jeongguk’s spine, purposefully nudging his clothed, hard cock against the rabbit tail. He smiled, wickedly, when the boy keened at the contact, “Do you like this, bun?” “Ah –yes! S–So much…” he gasped, having been startled by the satisfying pain and heat radiating throughout his back. “Harder, master.” Jimin was more than willing to oblige him, using both hands this time – starting at the tops of Jeongguk’s shoulders. The lines forming beneath the deep press of his nails were an angry red, skin breaking with small, puffy cuts. However, the reaction from Jeongguk was one of ecstasy, when he curled in on himself with a wrecked cry. The sound of it rang through Jimin like an alarm, deciding that once more would have to be the absolute limit. He tried to make it last, as he slowly raked his nails down – all the while, rocking his hips against Jeongguk’s ass, reveling in his breathy moans of pleasure. The boy turned his face to the side, resting his overheated skin against the cool tiles. “More,” he whispered, brown eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I want you to mark me. Please, master. I want to be yours.” The air ghosting over his scratches made everything burn and at the back of his mind, Jeongguk knew that he was bleeding, and that it was probably an ugly sight, but he didn’t care. “You’re already mine,” Jimin informed him, as he gripped the plug at its base and slowly withdrew it from his submissive’s stretched little hole. He spread Jeongguk’s cheeks nice and wide within his palms, the action possessive as he watched him clench around nothing. The last ounce of Jimin’s self-restraint was promptly gone within that moment, as he tugged down the zipper on his dark slacks far enough to pull out his throbbing cock. “I’ve always wanted you beneath me, just like this, my helpless little bunny.” Jeongguk’s skin grew hot from the words being spoken, torn between wanting to hide himself away, or to throw his arms around Jimin. It was a pivotal moment for the both of them, a change in their dynamic. He’d begged, sometimes until his throat was raw, to be fucked. For Jimin to use him up like he was a doll – now it was finally happening.   Jimin opened the lubricant bottle to start slicking himself up, being generous with the application. What he lacked in length, he made up for in girth. Jeongguk knew of this fact, given the many times he choked while giving his master a messy blowjob, left with a stream of tears and a swollen mouth. “It’s too early in your training to be doing this,” Jimin warned, voice grave, as he pressed the thick head of his cock against Jeongguk’s tender rim. “Are you sure?”     “Please, fuck me, master,” Jeongguk murmured, doing his best to push back with his hips, needing the ache inside him to be filled after a long night of being on edge, punished, and teased. Jimin peered down at him, watching as his bunny teeth sucked in his bottom lip. The rabbit ears were so pretty against Jeongguk’s soft pink hair. He wasn’t even that upset about it anymore. The boy whined when he thought he was being ignored, somewhat petulant, “I’ve been good for you.” “That means you deserve my cock, then?” Jimin mused, feeling himself give in, which was a too common occurrence with his submissive, whose response was an indecent moan of, ‘mmmhmm’ at the back of his throat – eagerly nodding and once again squirming, until he abruptly grabbed Jeongguk by the waist in order to cease his movements, Jimin’s strong legs tightening around the boy’s thighs, as he took hold of his length and slowly pushed into him, sinking deep – until his pelvic bone met Jeongguk’s pert, bunny printed cheeks. Jeongguk’s mouth dropped into a soundless cry at the stretch, painful and blissful all at once. He curled his hands into fists beside his head, when Jimin had him by the roots of his hair, brushing his mouth over the boy’s shoulder, “You feel incredible,” he murmured, voice shaky and affected, as he traced over a deep scratch with the point of his tongue, “So tight and perfect around my cock, little bun.” Using his grip on Jeongguk’s pink locks as leverage, Jimin barely withdrew his hips, before he slammed back in – creating a rhythm that sent the younger into the tiles each time he came forward, Jeongguk’s swollen length a dripping mess between his stomach and the floor, stimulated by the raw friction. He whimpered when he felt Jimin sucking marks into his skin, placing bites against the cuts from his nails. Jeongguk was at the point where shame no longer mattered. “Please–I need more, need it f-faster…” “What if I want to take my time fucking you?” Jimin asked, punctuating his question by slowing his hips to a full stop. It was three, excruciatingly long seconds, before he thrust back into him, filling him inch by inch – the elder repeated the action, seeming to draw it out more each time. The boy was quaking beneath him, when he finally let up. “You would cry,” Jimin said, evenly, answering the question on his behalf, despite the fact that they were both aware of the truth. Jeongguk felt as his master took hold of his wrist, carefully guiding his arm back, so that he was grabbing Jimin’s thigh for support. The muscles there flexed and jumped beneath his fingertips whenever Jimin drove into him, the pace having formed into one that was fast and unforgiving, as he relentlessly pressed in as far as he could inside the younger, the harsh sound of skin meeting skin flooding the quiet room. “Ma–ahh… Master, please let me come…” Jimin could feel how close Jeongguk was to unraveling, clenching tightly around his cock at frequent, squeezing him so hard he’d nearly lost breath from sheer overwhelm. The younger felt so fucking good, part of the reason being the fact that it was Jeongguk he was fucking, and Jimin wanted – he craved to have this for himself, which was a dangerous realization that he’d have to dwell on later. “Go on, sweets, I want you to come for me,” he said, words skimming the back of Jeongguk’s neck, as he moved a hand around Jeongguk’s hips to gently grab at his cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. The second Jeongguk was granted permission he felt the relief swallow him up whole. The pleasure that was steadily melting him through at the center of his being finally spilled over, as he came in a myriad of deep moans and needy, little cries. A professional dominant would do well to remember that putting the needs of his submissive first was crucial. Jimin had always believed in this, focusing on the younger, when he gave himself over to his release. Fingers then coated with sticky ropes of Jeongguk’s cum, Jimin continued pumping him through each intense wave, until his muscles stopped gripping him and his cock softened enough to remove the ring. Jeongguk winced once the pressure was released, dropping his sweaty forehead against his forearm, utterly sated, and blissed out. Unfortunately for his sweet little bunny, it was his turn now. Jimin pressed the flat of his hand between Jeongguk’s shoulder-blades, forcing his chest down to the floor, pinning him there as he started grinding his hips into his ass, thrusts slow and deep, more thorough – expelling the air from Jeongguk’s burning lungs. Jimin was the perfect fit – his thick cock repeatedly stretching the boy open and stuffing him full, rubbing against the deepest parts of him. It didn’t take much for Jeongguk to get hard again from being overstimulated. “Show Master that slutty, little bunny cunt of yours,” Jimin growled the order through his teeth, watching with hooded eyes as Jeongguk did as he was told, a good boy – spreading his cheeks wide enough to give Jimin the perfect view of his cock disappearing in and out of his drenched, abused hole. He captured Jeongguk’s wrists, keeping his hands there, “Who owns you, Jeongguk?” It was very rare that Jimin ever used a submissive’s real name, even though it wasn’t a set rule. It was simply perceived as coming off as too intimate or personal. “Master owns me,” Jeongguk gasped out, as the heat at the pit of his stomach threatened to unfurl for a second time. He didn’t want it to be so soon, trying to focus on the signs that Jimin was nearing his climax, how aggressive he becomes, his words filthy and thoughtless between deep groans and breathy sighs. It turned him on to no end, knowing that he was the one giving his master such pleasure. It empowered him. “Can I p-please come?” “Little bunny, you come now or you don’t come at all,” Jimin husked, challenging Jeongguk even while he was so very close to oblivion. He tore his eyes away from where their bodies were connected to lean down, scraping his teeth over the back of Jeongguk’s shoulder, unable to leave it alone, as he relished in the cries he was rewarded with, continuing to pound into the boy with wild abandon. The sound of Jeongguk’s affliction was enough to send a pleasurable chill throughout his body, or in this case, do him in completely. He used the full weight of his body to keep Jeongguk still, when he came hard – spilling his hot cum deeply inside him. Jeongguk winced at the odd sensation and was quick to follow Jimin over the edge, coming in thick spurts against his stomach and the tiles. Jimin slammed his hips forward one last time, burying his release, before he slowly let Jeongguk go from his bruising grip. Jeongguk felt weightless, basking in the afterglow – a giddy, joyful feeling engulfing him in warmth. He closed his eyes against its comfort, listening to the rapid beating of his pulse in ears – trying to slow it, without ever having to come back down. Jimin was lying beside him on the floor then, arms immediately reaching for him, and wrapping around the boy like vines. Jeongguk allowed himself to be pulled in, sighing at the petite hands stroking over his sore skin. “Did I hurt you?” Jimin asked, his voice back to its usual soft, alluring lilt – soothing him. Jeongguk was contented, a giggle bubbling from his chest, “Only in ways that I enjoyed.” The elder started combing his fingers through the damp, pink strands of Jeongguk’s hair, adjusting the headband in the process. “The bunny props didn’t even embarrass you, did they?” He shook his head, feeling shy all of a sudden, “But you enjoyed seeing me wear them, so it wasn’t a total waste.” He hummed in agreement, as he turned over onto his back, pulling Jeongguk’s mouth to his own, kissing him softly. “You’re so pretty, bun,” he whispered, taking another long, slow drag of the younger’s lips. Jimin didn’t stop until he was certain that he was under the consumption. At the end of every scene or an intense activity, the submissive was prone to a sub-drop, which meant their endorphins crashed. Jimin was always careful about cushioning the fall, all gentle touches and soft words. “So pretty and all mine.” In a few moments, Jimin would go through the routine of cutting off the rest of the rope. He’d then proceed to take a warm, soapy rag to Jeongguk’s skin, washing him of the blood, sweat, and cum that clung to him – all the while, eyeing his water intake, and feeding him his favorite chocolates. The final step would be dressing Jeongguk’s wounds and there were plenty of them. At the end of an evening with Jeongguk, Jimin was always left with such profound emptiness, which is why Jeongguk needed to complete his training, and become his – his forever. No one in this world made Jimin feel so insecure. No one ever could and yet. Jeongguk nuzzled his nose against the side of Jimin’s throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his master’s shirt, desperate almost, “Master, I want more kisses.” Jimin smiled. “Of course, bun.” -------------------------------------------------------------------- It was a little past midnight when Taehyung glanced over to look at the clock. He’d been staring at his notes all night, and just to be clear – the ones he wrote down himself, not the ones from Professor Min’s stupid, highly well-detailed outline. Sure, it would be beneficial to him to just suck it up and use the material – s’not like Yoongi would ever have to know about it. A small amount of bitterness came with it though, since Professor Jung never provided the class with his own notes, and Taehyung would have given anything for a small glimpse of what went through his head. He got up from his chair, long overdue for a break, and to perhaps eat something for the first time since three o’ clock in the afternoon – yesterday now. Several times the messenger on his phone went off throughout the night. It was Hoseok giving a play by play of his random outing into the city. He kept taking photos of every ‘artsy-esque’ thing he saw, as though his two friends – one majoring in art, and the other in photography, would honestly give a shit. Jeongguk hadn’t even read any of the messages. It made Taehyung wonder, even worry about the possibility of Jeongguk being at Void? Then he remembered the date and what the younger had said at lunch about seeing Jimin on Friday. It was currently past midnight on a Saturday. Taehyung was so absorbed in schoolwork that he doesn’t remember what time Jeongguk left their dorm room. It was the type of shit that made Taehyung feel anxious. Jeongguk had made it clear that he was avoiding going back to the club. He told Taehyung that he would be punished as a result of what had happened last week. And what happened last week, was ultimately Taehyung’s fault. In the BDSM world, he was a goddamn menace. How would he ever survive being a part of it? The answer was simple: he wouldn’t. Not that he wanted to be, mind you. This wasn’t the Little Mermaid. Just as he was about to wolf down the last slice of Jeongguk’s leftover cheesecake, the door to their room was being opened. He quickly placed the dessert back on the refrigerator shelf. The boy looked exhausted, but the cold weather alone could do that to you. The tops of his cheeks, as well as the point of his nose were beet red. Jeongguk gave their small living area the onceover, eyes immediately landing on Taehyung. “Oh, hey, Guk,” ‘Guk, buddy, hey.’ Taehyung was doing that thing where he smiled so big and wide that it was obvious he was nervous. Despite all of that, he was happy to see his dongsaeng – glad to know he was alive, and that all still appeared to be intact. “How was your night?” “It was good,” he said, seeming to mean it, but there was noticeable hesitation in Jeongguk’s movements. He was slower, more sluggish in removing the coat from off his shoulders. “The drive back here was awful, though. Then I remembered there was a game tonight, and parties – parties galore.” “Uh, yeah, fucking parties...galactic…” or galore, whatever he said – Taehyung paused, trying to not be so obvious about the fact that he was taking in the other boy’s actions, waiting to catch him in something that he shouldn’t. “Did you see Hobi’s photos yet? They’re trash, but we should still try to act impressed, especially over the moonlight garden that we can’t even see, because it’s fucking dark out.” For awhile, all Jeongguk did was stand there with his coat still down past his shoulders, and that was where it stayed. “I haven’t checked messenger today. Were you – or did you take your shower?” Taehyung was in full detective mode now, ready to break out the deerstalker hat, and magnifying glass. “Not yet. Why? Trying to get rid of me, Jeon Jeongguk?” “I was gonna ask if I can wash up first?” he asked, long fingers closed in one sleeve behind his back, where he was carefully pulling on it. “Sure, Guk, whatever you want,” Taehyung breathed out, realizing that Jeongguk was avoiding hurting himself with abrupt movements. There was discomfort somewhere – somewhere in his shoulders, or in his back. “Let me help you with that.” Taehyung wasn’t offering at this point and Jeongguk wasn’t in the position to refuse him. So, he picked up from where the younger left off, gently pulling at the sleeves of his coat. He then placed it on Jeongguk’s bed when the task was done. Throughout the removal, he hadn’t failed to notice the way Jeongguk’s shoulders tensed, as though waiting for it to hurt. Cutting the bullshit, Taehyung deadpanned, “What happened at Void?” “I had my appointment,” Jeongguk said, turning so that he was facing his friend. “It was nothing out of the ordinary, really. Jimin was happy to see me back, there was even one point where I thought he was going to break out a cake, or play the trombone or something.” “Oh, really? Wow, that’s fantastic!” Taehyung laughed in mock-glee, the sound of it absolutely obnoxious – they’d both learned it from Hoseok. He sobered up once he’d made his point clear, that he didn’t believe a word out of his fucking mouth, “You’ll have no problem with showing me your back then.” “Tae…” Jeongguk whispered, brown eyes pleading with him. He looked like he was about ready to break down. Taehyung was stubborn and would not give up, he already knew. “You saw what happened with Woozi. Sometimes there are punishments that may look bad, but they’re not. It’s all consensual and agreed upon.” “Show me,” Taehyung repeated, the tension in the room growing thick, and suffocating. When Jeongguk continued to remain still, denying him without words, he closed his eyes, raising his voice for the first time – in a long while. Years. “If it’s not as bad as you say it is, then you wouldn’t have hobbled yourself in here, struggling to get out of your fucking clothes! I won’t be able to sleep tonight, until you fucking show me.” Jeongguk nodded somewhat numbly, as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pausing midway when he felt the beginnings of pain. He sucked in his breath and quickly tugged it off, as one would a band-aid. If he thought Taehyung hadn’t seen the pain on his face, he was wrong – too perceptive for his own good. Jeongguk dropped the garment to the floor, the front of his body reflecting the marks from the rope, but they would fade soon. Without having to be told, he slowly turned around, unaware of the condition of his back, but he could hear it in the sharp gasp Taehyung drew. It was bad. Thankfully, the older boy couldn’t see his ass. That hurt twice as much and was probably covered in welts. “Jimin did this to you?” Taehyung asked, already knowing the answer, but it made no sense to him. There was a deep bruise from what was an obvious bite mark – lines of red were dragged down the length of Jeongguk’s back. It looked like a mess, a bloody mess and part of it was Taehyung’s fault. His voice was trembling, “The guy you claim to be in love with?” “You don’t understand,” Jeongguk said, looking over his shoulder, and was met with Taehyung’s expression of complete distraught. The younger might’ve been on the brink of tears, but it was his hyung who was crying. “You can’t blame him for what I want done to me.” “A bath would be better.” Taehyung changed the subject, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, before he raided Jeongguk’s drawers. He pulled out a large black shirt and a pair of boxers. Jeongguk tried again, “Tae…” “The Epsom salt isn’t good for wounds, but,” Taehyung said, talking a mile a minute. “…we can put some Neosporin on the cuts and then uhm, lots of those Finding Nemo band-aids…” “My–Jimin already put cream on them, and at one point, he even dressed them, but I took the bandages off before I got home.” He didn’t want Taehyung to see them in the garbage the next morning. The marks only needed more cream, nothing major. The whole thing was a bit dramatic in his opinion, even if Jeongguk enjoyed being cared for, and coddled. Taehyung was already at the bathroom door, Jeongguk slowly trailing behind him. He was yanking the shower curtain to one side. “Hold on, hyung will clean it first,” he said, as he started scrubbing the porcelain with a Magic Eraser. Taehyung was known for being an anxious person, cleaning things, and talking fast when it got the better of him.           Jeongguk swallowed, thickly, emotions tight in his throat. “Tae, you don’t have to…” He stood up when he was finished, a shaking hand turning the faucet on to adjust the water to his own preference. “Feel the temperature. Tell me if it’s okay.” Jeongguk humored him, wiggling his fingers beneath the spray. “It’s perfect.” “Oh! Your socks,” Taehyung said, as he slowly backed away from him. “I’ll go get them for you, unless you need help with your jeans?” “No – I shouldn’t, but Tae, I don’t…” Taehyung stopped him right there. “Socks are important, they do a lot to keep us warm, you know.” He walked into the room, continuing to go on and on about the amazing comfort. But in all honesty, Taehyung wasn’t interested in socks. He also didn’t want to hear the cries of pain once Jeongguk finally sat himself down in the tub. No, he didn’t want to see the rest of the damage left all over his friend’s body, due to his, his – Kim fucking Taehyung’s behavior. What Taehyung truly wanted was the keys to the car. And he’d found them on top of Jeongguk’s bed from where he’d tossed them so that he could fail to shed out of his coat. Taehyung scooped them up, loudly saying something about the wonders of fuzzy socks, before he pulled on his scarf, and stepped out into the hallway of their dormitory. It took Taehyung a moment to ground himself enough to be able to drive, smoothing his hands flat against the closed door. He felt apologetic for the anger that was currently surging through him, for the fact that Jeongguk would not approve of what he was about to do next. He might not even be able to forgive Taehyung after tonight. He really was going to break Jimin’s wrist. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TBC Oh, hell. It’s a glossary. Bight - a loop of rope, as distinct from the rope's ends. Lark’s head knot - a hitch knot used to attach a rope to an object. Sub-drop - the ‘down’ or ‘low’ feeling after BDSM play. Rigger - someone that is a top that specializes in rope bondage, often one that performs suspension riggings. *BDSM test link that literally everyone has taken at some point or another.   

[amethystina]

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP meme WinterIron #19 Summer Camp AU + #38 Grief Fic

Oh GOD. SO MUCH PAIN. WHY? 

But sure, I’ll do my best ;) My story idea is below the cut because I shit you not this ended up being 3200 words. I just… I give up on writing short things.

(I want to add the disclaimer that I know nothing about summer camps and have never attended one, but heck, why should that stop me, right?)

SO. Let’s lower Tony’s age a little and say that Howard and Maria die when he’s seventeen instead of twenty-one. The grief isn’t exactly easier to handle when he’s in the middle of puberty and Tony acts out in the months following their deaths (well, more than usual). It reaches the point where Obadiah just doesn’t know how to handle him and eventually loses his patience. So, since he doesn’t want to deal with Tony’s anger and self-destructive tantrums, Obadiah sends him off to summer camp for four weeks.

It’s not a rich-boys camp by any means, but rather one of the few that could take him on such short notice. Tony hates it instantly. He has no interest in doing outdoorsy things and no amount of Obadiah’s “it builds character” makes up for the fact that Tony can’t bring his tools and gadgets. He’s not allowed to tinker and, frankly, he’s not sure how he’s expected to survive the summer.

So it’s an incredibly angry, frustrated, and grieving Tony that arrives at the summer camp in question and his only goal is to get sent home as quickly as possible. He figures that if he breaks enough rules, it won’t matter how much money Obadiah paid them to take him in with only a couple of day’s notice.

Bucky is, of course, one of the camp counselors together with Steve. They’re just above twenty and figures that being counselors is a fairly easy way to earn money, so why not? Hilariously, all the teenagers — at least during the first couple of days — always assume that Steve is the nice one. He’s tiny, blond, and wholesome, so of course he has to be kind, right? And he is, of course, but he’s also strict as hell when it comes to certain things (morals, mostly, and treating each other with respect and kindness) and once a camper has earned themselves a Steve Rogers Is Disappointed In You Rant™ they usually behave for the rest of the camp. And are also rewarded a badge Bucky had made that they then have to wear for the rest of the day.

With this in mind, Tony decides that Bucky is the one to hassle. There are other camp counselors, sure, but Bucky is the one who looks like he’ll get angry the fastest and would be more inclined to dole out punishment.

That, clearly, is Tony’s first mistake.

Still, Bucky gets pretty frustrated with Tony’s comments that are always just a little too hurtful to be playful sarcasm, no matter who he speaks to, and he’s pretty fucking tired of Tony’s general attitude. The first week is like pulling teeth. Tony refuses to participate in any of the activites, no matter how much they coax or subtly hint about disciplinary actions. He’s rude to the other campers, his mood swings from lofty superiority to snarling anger, and the counselors have no idea what to do. No matter what they try, Tony blows them off and acts as if he’s better than them — as if him being there is a punishment of epic proportions (which is how he sees it, really).

Things escalate to the point where the other campers start avoiding Tony (mostly out of self-preservation) and Tony gets more and more isolated, and more and more angry. Except the anger is hiding a lot of pain that he still hasn’t dealt with. Inside of him the grief is just growing and the fact that he’s far from home just makes it worse. He’s not able to sneak over to his mother’s closet and bury his face in one of her dresses and, if only for a second, smell her scent again. Or step into his father’s workshop and marvel at the brilliance he had always hope to match someday — perhaps even surpass if he worked hard enough.

It hurts so much he can barely breathe, but he refuses to break. He refuses to cry. He refuses to let any of it show. It festers and grows deeper and darker until he’s just so tired of it all that he snaps at anyone daring to come close.

Fortunately, Bucky and the other counselors are pretty sure why Tony is acting out. Howard and Maria’s deaths made the headlines, after all, and they all know that Tony is Anthony Stark, so it’s not hard to put two and two together. It doesn’t mean that they know how to handle it, but at least they know the reason. 

Well, Bucky has some ideas on how to handle it, since he was there when Steve lost his mum and while they react to it differently, he’s at least seen the grief before.

So he decides to befriend Tony. He knows that might backfire spectacularly, but he’s not willing to give up on Tony, either. They could send Tony home, sure, but what good would that do? He’d still be angry and grieving and probably spiral even further down into despair.

Tony doesn’t like it. He gets frustrated when Bucky starts trying to talk to him. Not about the grief — Bucky is much smarter than that — but regurlar things. Tony doesn’t want to get pulled into conversations and replies with comments so hurtful they would make some people cry.

Bucky just purses his lips — occasionally replies with something snarky of his own — and keeps talking. Tony has no idea what to do with that. After all, he has no idea that this is the man stubborn enough to remain friends with Steve Rogers, despite all the shit that little punk gets into.

Tony is bewildered.

But, little by little, he also kind of grows to enjoy it. It IS kind of nice to have another person close, even if it’s one of the camp counselors. Tony still tries to rile Bucky up every now and then — confused and almost insulted that it’s not working as well as he thought it would — but by then Bucky just replies with a grin and a witty retort. They strike up a friendship of sorts, be it one founded on snarky remarks, and Tony starts to cool down considerably. Bucky even manages to convince Tony to join one or two of the activities, even if it requires bribery or sneakily playing on Tony’s competitiveness.

Things actually start going well and, by the time week two is over, Tony is not exactly happy, but civil. He can be around the other campers without scaring them off and he clearly favours Bucky over the other counselors, to the point where he willingly seeks Bucky’s company. All in all, things are progressing nicely.

Until the day they try to make Tony play the piano.

The counselors don’t mean anything bad by it. Tony just happened to let it slip that he knows how during one of his and Bucky’s conversations — not mentioning that he does so because of Maria — and they suggest it as something he can occupy himself with, seeing as he still refuses to take part in most of the other activities. Tony refuses, vehemently, but not even Bucky can tell that this isn’t Tony being unreasonable just for the sake of being a little shit, but because he is genuinely upset by the thought.

Bucky realises it only when Tony suddenly turns and runs off. Never has Tony done that. He’s been rude and mean and caused enough conflict to last them the entire summer, but he has never backed down or left a conversation before he was sure that he had won.

So Bucky, naturally, follows Tony. He finds him only because Tony sucks at moving quietly through the woods and Bucky can hear him from a mile away, but, as far as Bucky is concerned, he almost wishes he couldn’t. He hears Tony’s panicked, hitched breaths long before he finds him sitting curled up into a little ball behind a tree. Bucky knows the situation is delicate — he might fuck up royally — but he knows that there’s only one way for him to handle this situation.

He sinks to his knees next to Tony and hugs him.

Tony stiffens, holding his breath, but eventually just breaks. As much as he hates it, he can’t hold back the grief anymore.

So he cries, desperately burying his face against Bucky’s shirt, and just let’s go for the first time in months. Since his parents died, basically. And Bucky holds him, gently petting his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay, even if he knows that it probably won’t. It will get better, though, but Bucky knows Tony probably doesn’t want to hear that either.

Tony cries until he’s too exhausted to be embarrassed and Bucky gently takes him back to his cabin where he can sleep it all off. Then Bucky finds the other counselors and explains that piano is a bad idea for Tony. He doesn’t tell them about Tony’s breakdown — that’s not his to tell — but that Tony reacted negatively and they shouldn’t bring it up again.

The next day the embarrassment has caught up with Tony but Bucky refuses to let that stop him and just acts as if nothing has changed. He doesn’t behave as if it never happened — he can’t help that he looks at Tony with a hint of gentleness now — but he doesn’t bring it up or make Tony talk about it. Bucky he stubborn — he can wait for Tony to do it.

And eventually he does. It takes another week of steadily more serious conversations — Bucky opening up too, about his wish to join the army, his family, and what it’s like to be friends with someone like Steve for the majority of his life — but Tony gets there.

He didn’t even know he needed to talk about it until he’s already halfway through the explanation of how he got the news — the fear and denial he felt at the thought of losing both his parents in one fell swoop. Bucky listens and lets Tony talk, not interrupting even when Tony starts crying again. He just listens. 

Tony definitely didn’t know how much he needed that.

He feels awkward at showing such weakness, yes, but there’s relief, too, and a fair share of gratefulness. Bucky is so kind and gentle, never pushing but always supporting, and Tony has never really had that. Rhodey is an amazing friend and Tony loves him very much, but their relationship is a bit different. Not to mention that Tony has made sure not to speak to Rhodey as much these past couple of months, simply because he couldn’t handle it. He tried to do the same with Bucky, clearly, but that didn’t work. Bucky was simply too stubborn and much too caring for his own good.

And, right there, after telling Bucky about his dead parents, is the moment Tony realises that he’s falling in love with Bucky.

He’s not exactly surprised, but he’s pretty sure it’s going to cause problems, too. He tries to ignore it during the next couple of days, but he’s seventeen, horny, and impulsive, so three days before the end of camp, he kisses Bucky.

It’s not glamorous or romantic by any means. Tony is helping with the firewood, not because he enjoys it, but because that’s what Bucky is doing. And they’re trading snarky comments like usual and a particularly inventive one of Tony’s makes Bucky laugh and Tony is just gone.

So Tony kisses him.

Tony knows right away that he shouldn’t have. Bucky is stunned for a second, then gently but firmly pushes him away. Bucky doesn’t have time to do more than draw a breath before Tony cuts in with: “I know. That was stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tony is too young, not to mention grieving and in no position to make those kinds of decisions. Bucky is the camp counselor and an authority figure — kissing one of the campers will get him fired without a doubt. And when Tony seems to think that Bucky isn’t interested, well — Bucky does nothing to convince him otherwise. It’s partly true, after all. He’s never really considered Tony in that way, much too caught up in helping him with the grief, but now that they’ve kissed it’s a whole lot more difficult to ignore. Some part of him might actually be interested, but Bucky refuses to acknowledge that part.

They agree to never talk about it again.

The last three days of camp are awkward and a little bit miserable, but nowhere near as bad as it was from the beginning. Tony has had time to heal, no matter how much it hurts to know that Bucky doesn’t feel the same, and he’s not angry anymore. Still snarky and frustrating, sure, but that’s Tony.

The end of camp rolls around and Tony is mortified when he feels like crying. Bucky has been his sole support for almost three weeks and he’s terrified at the thought of going back out into the world without him. He has to, though, and tries to act as if it’s no big deal.

Bucky sees through it, of course, and pulls Tony aside to give him his phone number and email, just in case. Bucky knows he’s probably crossing some line he shouldn’t be crossing, but he can’t stand to see the desperation in Tony’s eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Tony just swallows and nods, unable to reply, and Bucky pulls him in for one last hug. Tony clings to him longer than he should or is appropriate, but Bucky doesn’t push him away.

He lets Tony hold on until he feels ready to let go.

Eventually, Tony does, and he only manages another nod before he turns and heads for the car. Jarvis is there to greet him and Tony tells himself he won’t look back.

Except he does, and Bucky gives him a crooked smile and a little wave, while pretending that he’s not upset at all. The thought of never seeing Tony again isn’t agonising at all. He’ll be fine. Steve, wisely, says nothing.

So Tony leaves. Bucky eventually goes back home too. Tony has already graduated from MIT so he starts tinkering instead. Bucky joins the Army.

Tony doesn’t call.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but that summer at camp almost starts feeling like a dream to him after a while — like it was too good to be true. He handles the grief better, though. Bucky taught him a thing or two, after all, and Tony is more willing to listen to Rhodey now. Rhodey manages to steer him away from some of the wilder parties and Tony focuses more on his projects. Obadiah isn’t quite sure what to do with that, but he lets Tony be for now, seeing as he isn’t a threat.

A year passes. Then another. Then another.

Bucky wonders every now and then — especially when handed a gun or piece of armor from Stark Industries — what Tony is doing. Why he never got in touch. Despite Tony’s behaviour at the start of the camp, Bucky remembers him fondly. And that little seed of what could have been — the beginning of an attraction that Bucky can’t quite deny or ignore — lies dormant but not forgotten. 

Sometimes, when on leave, he catches sight of Tony in the newspapers. There’s a lot of gossip, as always when it comes to the rich and famous, but most is about his inventions and accomplishments. The young genuis who showed all the signs of becoming a rich, spoiled playboy turned out to be a dedicated, hard-working young man with a passion for everything that can help and improve people’s lives.

Most assume it was Tony’s parents’ deaths that made him change — that Tony was forced to grow up when he lost Howard and Maria — and Bucky isn’t someone who would assume otherwise. He’s proud when he sees what Tony has become, sure, but he doesn’t quite realise the impact he had. That he was one of the main reasons that Tony managed to turn his life around, especially during such a painful stage.

Another year passes. Then another. Then another.

Bucky is twenty-seven when he’s sent to Afghanistan a second time. Seven months later he’s sent back home without a left arm. He’s not entirely sure what to do, disoriented and alight with phantom pains and the echoing sound of gunfire and explosions and the heat of fire against his skin and pain pain pain in his arm.

Having Steve helps. It takes two months before Bucky feels stable enough to even consider daily chores, but he gets there. His new life stretches ahead of him and its daunting, but he’s stubborn and not one to give up, so he’ll get through it.

One day there’s a knock on the door.

Bucky doesn’t expect much, yet when he opens the door, there is Tony. He’s older — twenty-three now — and looks the same but different. Despite his surprise and general disorientation, Bucky’s heart skips a beat, like a jolt of awareness suddenly shot through him, startling him awake after years of slumber.

He hasn’t seen Tony in ages.

And Bucky knows he should say something nice or profound or perhaps even witty, but what he ends up saying is: “I like the beard.”

That seems to work, though, since Tony grins, and he looks calm and healthy — so unlike the angry, shielded-off teenager that Bucky knew. He’s beautiful, though — Bucky isn’t ashamed to admit that.

He invites Tony in, too happy to see him to do otherwise. He knows Tony is probably there because of the arm — Bucky isn’t sure how Tony found out and he probably doesn’t want to, either — but that’s okay.

Seeing Tony again feels really good.

The conversation is a little stilted at first as they feel their way, trying to bridge the years they’ve been apart. Tony doesn’t stare at Bucky’s missing arm, which helps, but the warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his face is distracting. Bucky can’t look away. He’s not sure if he can blame what he blurts out next on his injury and the PTSD that followed, but he’s definitely going to blame Tony — he shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful.

“It’s okay to kiss me now.”

Bucky realises a split second later how stupid that is. How insulting. As if he can assume that Tony still has a crush on him? As if Tony would actually want to kiss someone like Bucky? Tony might have a significant other, or simply just moved on with his life.

Tony looks surprised and Bucky is about to apologise when Tony fires off another one of those grins and says: “Let me take you out to dinner first. I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of not treating you right.”

The confidence is very different from the false bravado that Tony had shown as a teenager and Bucky likes it. He knows that they’re going to have to talk about his arm at some point — Tony probably had a reason for showing up all of a sudden — but that can wait. Bucky has lived the past two months in a daze of nightmares and disorientation, and he’s definitely enjoying this new-found clarity. He doesn’t know how long it will last or if Tony will stay for more than one dinner, but they’ll figure that out along the way.

They’ll get there, Bucky is sure.

[simeon-takes-a-break]

Not everything will kill you in Australia - but it goddamn tries to - Part 1

After my stressful departure from the Philippines I was more than ready to have a festive, joyful and happy Christmas time at the sunny beach in Sydney. Well, Australia was not. First of all where the hell was summer? Seriously, I stepped out the airplane and immediately got hit by a blizzard and temperatures not seen since Roland Emmerich’s “The Day After Tomorrow”. OK, I might exaggerate a bit but this was supposed to be summertime in Australia. Instead it was more or less the bloody same temperature as back in Zurich (they had an unusual warm Christmas). Also, due to me missing my flight in Manila, I arrived late on Christmas Eve and by the time I checked in at the outrageously expensive hostel pretty much everyone had left the nest. I however had a plan and would stick to it, come what may. That was a couchsurfing community gathering at the beach to be precise. I hopped on the bus and got all the way out to famous Bondi beach only to encounter a pitiful group freezing their asses off on said deserted beach. The scenery reminded me of Jack Nicholson’s last shot in “The Shining”. I joined the last Mohicans for a round of festive holiday drinks and fucked off within 30 minutes. No way I would catch my death here.

Back in the city I found the hostel deserted so decided to venture out to find a cozy restaurant where I can be forever alone and eat my first ever Christmas dinner apart from my family and - much more catastrophically - without delicious home made Bulgarian food. Luckily, I found a small restaurant that served Croatian food.

I ordered some familiar dishes which tasted quite acceptable (no worries Mom, no one is even close to your impeccable cooking skills). Also I managed to facetime with la familia and some friends back in Zurich, bringing the overall depression level considerably down. After that my only friend was alcohol. That and karaoke. Entertainingly performed by drunk gays, drag queens and fag hags. Considering my situation this was to be assessed as a pretty good outcome.

The next day it only could go uphill as I met my sister’s friend Anja who pretty much started her world trip the same time as me but in the opposite direction and here we were on the other side of the world criss-crossing each other’s path. That girl has a voice of a 90 year old man who’s been smoking two packs of cigarettes since childhood. She seriously belongs in a jazz band or in a studio dubbing movie trailers.

The weather remarkably improved and we finally were able to fully enjoy Sydney as intended. Anja and her friend even let me crash their fabulous Airbnb flat so I could save a thousand or so dollars (goddammit Down Under got really expensive). I in turn introduced them to the equally fabulous and crazy Sydney gay nightlife. I am now in possession of some pretty interesting pics that will insure my pension should she indeed break it into Hollywood. (She already is on her way as she organizes by now Switzerland biggest award show - go gurrrl!).

And then it was time to meet a colleague from the bank I used to work at who had mentioned that he was planning his holiday in Australia. He thus suggested to join forces for two weeks and explore the South. I did share my concerns with him as we had totes different mindsets: I was backpacking for a year and he was a successful banker ready to spend my month's budget for a night at a fancy hotel. Eventually I gave in. Big mistake.

Our first days in Sydney were actually pretty great. The flat he booked was amazing, the parties we went to as well and I even go to see Yannick, whom I spent crazy days with back in Singapore as well as Irwin, whom I met back in 2008 during my first Aussie Aussie oi oi oi experience. Yes, I am that international. #humble #blessed #iknowhowhashtagswork

New Years Eve was a hoot. First of all we were amused how on TV they were showing some batshit crazy tourists who would queue for 24 freaking hours to grab the best viewing spot for the fireworks and then wait for another 18 hours for the spectacle to actually begin. Ain't nobody got time for that. Instead we decided to have a nice meal at the flat when suddenly we heard fireworks. What time was it? Did we miss something? Was our vodka diet kicking in (Lose 3 days in one week)? Was it really after midnight? Frantically checking our phones we realized that this was a family fireworks display at 9pm. Oh how goddamn unnecessary to confuse us just so little Timmy can get his own special fireworks.

Midnight was however approaching fast and we had no idea where to go. A special Sydney fireworks app came in handy displaying in real time which spots were still open. Not many as it turns out - 30 minutes before the clock was about to strike Cinderella hour (those crazy tourists were probably laughing now). It was already a miracle that we managed to get a cab to one of the locations we deemed suitable. 5 minutes before showtime we got there, managed to get in and out (the view was worse than seat 1 in row 1 in a movie theater) and just before we lost hope miracle number #2 kissed us: we discovered a small wall: and once gracefully climbed granting us full view at the famous harbor bridge. The fireworks were mesmerizing. Fueled by this great experience and cheap vodka red bull in oversized plastic cups we were ready to hit Sydney’s nightlife and properly celebrate the arrival of 2014. For some reason I have no clear memory of that night however I do remember that we somehow ended up in the backstage dressing room at a gay club. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Remember that movie “The Sweetest Thing” with Cameron Diaz and Christina Applegate?

Yeah, exactly like that. With the slight difference that the wigs must have been worth thousands of fabulous gold coins. Those drag queens have set their priorities straight. I’ll probably never will look as fabulous as I did in that moment. Long story short we got caught red-handed, screamed at and thrown out. Fantastic night, sweetie.

New Year’s Day was obviously very quiet so my body could rest… I’m just kidding. We went to “Daywash” a day party that cost us an arm and a leg, which equaled to precisely AUD 110, or 55 per limb. And it was absolutely utterly boring. The party crowd consisted of piles of sweaty muscled up flesh clones either self-absorbed or crazy due to questionable substances.

Time to ditch the day-zombies, bemoan the hard-earned and ill-spent 110 Aussie dollars, waive Sydney goodbye and check out Melbourne where the nightmare would slowly unfold…

[btsbloodtearssquees]

Ring Around a Rosy: Part Five

~ Requested (Arranged marriage/best friends AU - Kim Seokjin) 1 2 3 4 5

Your jacket flaps blew apart as you ambled down the shop-lined street. The air was definitely warmer than it had been for the last few weeks, indicating that summer was on the way. You gazed up at the sky, mind faraway. Another five weeks had vanished since your phone call with Jin, and you were finding it hard to be patient with his silence. You had been thinking; if he didn’t come home, you might go and stay with your mum for the summer. You had been actively avoiding her for years. But with this situation, with this inner peace that came with all forgiveness, you felt ready to face and love her again. Even if Jin never decided to return to you, even if you never resumed being friends - you thought that you were better off for having made peace with yourself and your past. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. A vibration from inside your pocket interrupted your thoughts and caused you to reach inside and pull your phone out. Coffee? I’m in town to do some bits and pieces and just drove past you. Kerry    11:11am Instinctively you glanced around yourself. Not seeing anyone, you resumed attention back on your phone to type out a response. Sounds great :). Where shall I meet you? You     11:12am Continuing to walk, you half-heartedly gazed inside shops. There were sales everywhere as the seasons were shifting, and you may have been tempted to spend if it weren’t from your complete lack of desire to have to make space at home for new additions. Your phone vibrated in your phone again. Mother Rose Cafe, in a half hour? I’m in the bank waiting for an appointment. Kerry     11:16am No problem. See you soon. You     11:16am It felt strange having friends again. Well, it wasn’t that you had stopped, but ever since marriage, it had depleted a little. You supposed that was from pure fear of the whole marriage thing being brought up. How stupid, you scoffed at yourself. Just about to turn into one of the commercial bookstores, your attention was caught instead by a store filled with whites and florals. A bridal shop. You had never had an interest in these kind of stores since the time you were a child, but now, for the first time you felt as if you actually wanted to enter. Taking a shaky breath, you stepped inside. You gazed around its interior slowly and deliberately. There were beautiful flowing white gowns displayed everywhere, and a shelf of tiaras and jewellery. Another display held flower decorations and glass cake platters. A notice beside the flowery counter suggested several different bands and photographers for on the day. Your attention returned to the dresses; fingers lightly touching the silky fabric of one as you realised all that you had missed out on. “Hello, can I help you?” One of the shop assistants peered around behind the dress with a small smile. You flushed. “Actually I’m just... �� your voice drifted off, and you stared unseeingly at the confused lady in front of you. Your heart was slowing in throbs of disappointment. “I’m married.” You laughed awkwardly as you held up your ring finger. She seemed more curious by your presence now. “I just - never got a real wedding, and wondered what it would have been like.” “Oh.” She stood still for a moment as she pondered over what she could do with that. “Well, what would you have done?” Realising eventually that she meant for you to pick things you would have used, a small smile of surprise and embarrassment lit your face. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.” “Go ahead,” her arms waved around the room. “We don’t have any expected customers today and no one else is here.” You were hesitant. It felt silly to play on what could have been, but then it did feel extremely tempting. After all, you would never get another chance to do this. Your fingers reached for the fabric of the dress again, but you started to see things as a bride might, and you realised the tackiness of the design. Moving to the next, you found its cut nice but didn’t think it would suit you or your body shape. “Do you want to try any on?” “Try them on? Oh no! No, it’s really fine,” you shook your head. Ignoring your comment, the assistant went towards a different dress and took it off of its manakin, holding it up. “I think this one would look really good on you.” More embarrassed than ever, you nodded in thanks but continued to look around. “Go try it on!” Your eyes darted across to hers. “Everyone deserves to feel like a princess sometimes.” Blushing and then smiling at her, you held your hand out for the dress and went to the back where the changing rooms were. Your breath caught as you did the buttons up the side and then looked at yourself in the mirror. The reflection was shocking. You did look like a princess; one who didn’t feel like one inside. How fun it would have been to walk down the aisle in something like this. “What does it look like?” Bracing yourself, you stepped out from behind the curtain for the assistant to catch a glimpse. She clapped her hands in glee. “Yes!! That is pretty!! Here, this one would look lovely too. And this!” She threw several more at you and you hopped back behind the curtain, soon taking up the role of a real bride. “No, I couldn’t wear this. I’d trip over all the frills during the dance!!” “I feel like a pumpkin with this much poof.” “My boobs aren’t big enough to hold this up.” You were about seven dresses in when she handed you another. It was a slight off-white, with three quarter length lace sleeves that sat just on the curve of the shoulder. Its ivory bodice dipped ever so slightly, and tightened down into a slim waist and a light skirt which kept close to your legs while still allowing you freedom of movement. You stared at yourself in the mirror, imagining your hair in an elegant updo. Yes, this would have been exactly what Seokjin would have wanted you to wear. Yourself, you weren’t sure it was your favourite, and that was probably something that you would have playfully argued over. Your heart pricked with pain, and you watched the tears begin to roll down on your reflection’s face. The perfect image of an abandoned bride. It was then that you realised you could have happily married Jin. It had simply been your fear that had held you back from being his wife, and your refusal to overcome that. You had robbed Jin of the love which he deserved for this long. Your heartache pressed in more firmly and you crumpled to the floor in full on sobs. “Are you okay?” The lady’s voice asked outside the door, about the same time your phone beeped most likely with Kerry’s question of where you were. “I’m -” you couldn’t finish. The enormity of your mistake plagued you as you rocked back and forth in sharp wails. “Jin. Oh, Jin!!!!” You didn’t know how long you sat on the floor of the dressing room weeping, but it was nothing compared with the years you had spent lying to yourself and most of all - your husband. ------------------------------- You are invited to the wedding of Y/N and Kim Seokjin on the 4th of June, 2017 at 11am, at the rose gardens. Lunch to follow!!

Seokjin stared at the invitation in shock. He had gone through a multiple of different emotions while opening the envelope addressed by you, but he had never once expected to find his own wedding invitation inside. It didn’t make sense. Was it real? Were you mocking him? Sinking into his father’s old armchair, he rubbed a hand over his tired face and then placed it on the side of his head as he stared at the words. What to do next? The sound of the kitchen clock seemed to amplify as he ticked over all of the possibilities in his mind. It had almost been three months since he had left. Three months. He missed you terribly; even more so for what you and him could have been. Watching his parents interact, he felt cheated of the life he wished to lead. And yet you as his best friend… Seokjin leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. You were the best thing to ever happen to him. Period. Maybe he was simply supposed to be grateful for that. Hell, he should be grateful for that. He was grateful for that. But it was so damn hard to resist being proud of the fact that you were his wife when he was hopelessly in love with you; had been from the beginning. Sitting in the silence for a countless number of ticks on the clock, Seokjin eventually stood up, invitation in hand, and ascended the staircase to his room. He would pack his things, write his absent parents a note, and then go and find out the fate of your relationship once and for all. ---------------------------------- It was crazy what you could achieve when you actually put your mind to something. Used to having Seokjin doing most of the unwanted tasks, it had been tiring fitting them all on top of your daily work life. But somehow you had found a way to make them pleasant. That was, imagining the look on Jin’s face when he saw it already done. Yes. You worked with a vengeance in the strong faith that he would come. Admiringly, you took your cookies out of the oven and rested them on top to allow them to cool. It was a heavenly smell, unlike the fifty other attempts. Filling your nostrils with the glorious success, you set to immediately cleaning the kitchen before it became twice as difficult to clean. You were almost so absorbed in the task that you didn’t hear the knock. Nevertheless, you dried your hands and turned off the music blaring from your phone - making some attempt at tidying your ‘housewife’ appearance. “Jin,” you announced startled as you stumbled back from the door. Even in all your expectancy, it was still difficult to comprehend that he was actually here. His dark almond eyes stared at you for a few seconds. Then he lifted the invitation up into your view. “What is this?” You lowered your gaze, embarrassed to be confronted with it. The truth was, you didn’t know how to explain. The invitation was simply a result of your high desire that it were real. “I don’t know,” you murmured. He regarded you silently a few moments longer. “Did you write it?” You nodded, cursing the unkempt strands of hair that fell into your eyes as a consequence. His throat made a sound as he swallowed. “Why?” The crack in his voice heightened your urge to pull him in for a hug. To cry in his grasp, apologise, and solemnly promise to be the wife he always wanted. Instead, you looked back into his breaking face. “Because. I imagine that it’s true. I imagine that - we were back in high school, and instead of going with that loser Matthew to the dance, I went with you. And that it was you who gave me my first kiss back as a sophomore struggling under stress. And that we graduated, knowing that we were going to be with each other forever. The person we love the most. And that this here,” you gestured at the card, “was only the beginning to a life of pure devotion.” A tear slipped down your cheek, almost in time with his. You sucked in your lips as more fell. “I’m so sorry, Jin. I’m so -” a sob broke out from your inner core. He shook his head at you, both of you scared to move for the fear that all of your emotion would spill. “No,” he whispered, and you knew you were forgiven. Shuddering in silent cries, you felt so unworthy of his love. “I should have been what you deserved, no matter how scared it made me feel. I should have… You gave me everything, and I only gave you what made me feel safe.” He reached out, gripping your forearms in a firm grasp. Your eyes met. “Did you say you love me?” You froze in place, scared of the outcomes of whatever you answered. Your lips parted with a response. Instead, you nodded. His lips felt strange against your own; as unnatural as the wedding ring had for all of those months. But that now felt like a part of you, and so you knew Jin's kisses would gradually light up your soul as much as you had seen at your parents' wedding all of those years ago. The stresses and anxiety broke off your back and tumbled onto the worn carpet. Jin separated, eyes beholding a hint of disappointment and uncomfortable tension. Your own shoulders remained tense.  "It wasn't horrific," you commented. "Not bad for a first time, anyway." He visibly relaxed; his teeth showing in an impish smile as he looked at you and fully registered you as his wife. You knew what was going through his mind, and felt a bit embarrassed by the soppy, emotional moment. Get used to it, you informed yourself, and giggled despite yourself. Then you burst out into full laughter. Turned out the six year old romantic inside of you still existed. Feeling both disgusted and excited by this thought, you grabbed Seokjin's arm and dragged him into the lounge to sit together on the sofa. The TV switched on and you grinned at each other with knowing glances. For once as the romantic movie began, you started to wonder at how many of the clichés you had dissed actually came true. A flurry of butterflies started in your stomach as you began to envision your married life. --------------------------- Here it is guys, a belated conclusion to the story. I hope it fulfilled all of your hopes, and squee needs!! Now that I have finally, finally finished all of my old requests, I shall continue with the story Blink, and any new requests that may come my way!! Once again, apologies to the person who requested it!! I never intended to stretch it out this long... Have the most incredible week!! - Dolceice

[zzizzigom]

I'm not sure if you're open for requests or if you take requests but if you do would you pretty please write a Hyungwon DJ AU based off his pictures from KCON Japan. He just looked so good and I've been craving DJ AU ever since.

you know I actually haven’t figured out a requesting policy yet, but I too needed some DJ Hyungwon so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. 

I hope you enjoy it and please excuse me if there’s any mistakes >.

Characters: Hyungwon x Female Reader 

Genres/Warnings: some swearing near the end

Length: 2077 words

You’resitting in a booth, the Shirley Temple you had ordered long forgotten andwatered down. Your full attention is on the book in front of you. Barelyhearing the pounding bass of the music, you bite your lip in anticipation asyou flip the page. Reading the following words your eyes widen; the main characterhas just figured out their significant other has been working for the villainsthe whole time. Having been sucked into this book body and soul, you couldalmost feel the same betrayal as the protagonist. Needing to take a break, yousit back in the booth and place your bookmark in between the pages beforeshutting the novel.

Decidingnow would be a good time to check on your drunker than drunk friends you lookup and scan the crowd.

Thebodies of the clubbers are too packed to really see anything properly. Youreyes are traversing over the gyrating hips and hair flips before you finallyspot your friend’s sparkling headband. She has her hands around her boyfriend’sneck and they’re swaying explicitly to the beat. Content that they’re okay yousettle back into your spot.

Allof a sudden, a tall figure slides into the booth. Internally rolling your eyes,you’re getting ready to turn down another drunk man but you stop short whenyour eyes take in just how gorgeous this stranger is.

Hishair is dark and styled messily with a slight side part. A few strands fallover his dark, intoxicating eyes. His black V-neck accents his collarbonesnicely from under the thick leather jacket he’s wearing. He looks like thetypical “bad boy” described in your favorite novels.

Thestranger looks directly at you and you see hesitance grace his features beforehe brings a finger up to his mouth – those lips are to die for – in a hushmotion. Then positioning his body so that his back is to the club, he rests hiselbow on the table before leaning his temple onto his closed fist.

Toanyone outside the booth you figured the two of you looked like you weretalking but in reality he was only staring down at the table. However, youwanted to hear his voice, wanted to hear what sound came out of those prettylips. You’re about to ask a question but before you can his eyes dart to thebook in front of you and then back up to you with amusement in his eyes.

“You’rereading in a club?” Oh God, his voice isas beautiful as I hoped. You hope your thoughts aren’t visible on your faceas you nod. To sooth your suddenly dry throat, you take a sip of your soda onlyto immediately make a face at the watered down grenadine syrup. The strangerchuckles but doesn’t say anything.

“I’monly here to be designated driver.”

“Mmm.”He nods.

Whennothing else is said, you start to fidget. Your knee bounces and then yourfingers start to drum against the hardcover of your book. The man howevercontinues to sit there, this time observing a tear on the knee of his blackjeans.

“Um,was there something I could help you with?” You ask.

“Ohno,” he replied. He turns to peek over his shoulder and his profile just aboutleaves you breathless. How can someone bethis gorgeous? “I’m just hiding from some people.”

“Who?”

“Seethat group over there? One of them is in the neon orange dress.”

Youlook around him and sure enough there’s a group of girls seemingly being led bythe one in the orange dress. They’re sticking together as they look around theclub, their eyes narrowing in on men in leather jackets.

Witha scoff you look at the stranger with a raised brow. “You sure do cheat a lot.”

Allprevious thoughts of how handsome this man is were starting to leave and youready yourself to call out to the women. Anticipation was crawling up yourstomach to see this man get what he deserved.

“Waitwhat do you- oh! Oh no, no, no. It’s nothing like that, I swear!”

Yourhead tilts in disbelief making him become more and more flustered. He sits upfrom his leaning position and holds his hands in his lap. Through the coloredlights waving through the room you’re able to catch a slight blush on hischeeks.

Whenhe catches your expectant look he shrugs. “They’re my small but ever loyalfanclub.”

Youblink. “Your fanclub?”

“Yeah.”

“Soyou’re a model, then?” He smirks slightly at the compliment but shakes hishead. You take another guess, “An idol?”

“No.I’m a DJ here. My friend, Jooheon, owns the club and lets me and our otherfriends work here when we need the extra cash. I’m on summer break at school soI’ve been here for a little bit.”

“Andin that bit you’ve developed a fanclub.”

“Exactly.”

Youcheck the time on your phone and see it’s nearing one. Your friend had made youpromise not to keep her out after two since she had work the next day. Why shedecided to go clubbing the day before a shift was beyond you. “Well, I shouldget going. My friends are pretty hard to get out of the club when they’re thisgone, and we have a while to get home.”

“You’renot gonna stay for my segment?”

“Whywould I?” You don’t mean it rudely, though it sounds like it. You worryslightly that you’ve scared off the handsome man despite being the one toinitiate leaving. But thankfully the stranger seems to get it and smiles.

“BecauseI’m the best at this club.”

Youscoff. “Careful now, wouldn’t want your fanclub gaining a new member to followyou around.” The man laughs, the sound joyous and contagious enough to have thecorners of your mouth twitching. You exhale and face the man again. “Butseriously, I don’t even know your name.”

Theman’s face is still light with laughter as he answers. “Hyungwon. Or DJ H.ONE,whichever you prefer.”

Withlight amusement falling over your face you give a small shake of the head. “Niceto meet you Hyungwon, I’m Y/N.”

“Therenow we know each other, so you have to stay for the show.” Hyungwon looks atyou expectantly and you shut your eyes as you nod in a weak resistance. I walked into that one, didn’t I?

“Ihave to get my friends home,” you reiterate.

“Myset’s in five minutes. Just stay for the first number.”

Youwonder why he’s so adamant in having you stay to watch. You figure it must bethat struggling musician in him and not the off chance that he’s interested inyou. But you still find yourself relenting.

“Fine,fine. But only the first song.”

Hyungwonbeams and you have to look away to avoid smiling back. You play it off astrying to find your friends again. When you see them still dancing you nod toyourself. Hyungwon gets up out of the booth then. Your eyes follow his movementand when he meets your gaze he gives a quick wave before waltzing off towardsthe front of the club.

Onceagain alone, you contemplate picking your book back up but decide against it.When you get to the really good parts you want to be curled up on your readingchair with your late night snacks. Instead you pack your purse up and head overto the bar with your glass. When you get the bartender’s attention you ask foranother Shirley.

Beforeyour drink arrives, the song currently playing fades out and plays in thebackground as someone speaks into a microphone.

“ClubStarship! Are! You! Ready!!” Hyungwon’s voice fills the club, its husky tonedrawing your attention. Everyone starts to cheer and jump up with their hands inthe air in anticipation. The beat starts to pick up again as it nears the beatdrop.

Youcan feel the counter of the bar vibrating to the bass. All of a sudden the beaterupts through the building and you watch as everyone starts to excitedly jumpto the beat. You find your head starts to bob along to the beat as you pick upyour new drink and hand over some cash to the bartender. He’s a muscular manwith a seemingly intimidating aura but the smile he gives you is gentle. Like a teddy bear.

Sippingthrough the straw your eyes once again find Hyungwon and you watch in almost atrance as he dances along to the beat.

Everynow and then he glances around the club-goers with a bite of his lip and hoodedeyes. It has you feeling a certain way in your chest but you try to ignore it.

Suddenlyyour friend is flopping against the bar next to you completely shocking you outof your staring.

“ThisDJ is fucking amazing!” She yells over the music at you. She has a tendency tostart cussing as she becames more and more inebriated. Behind her, herboyfriend nods in agreement as he continues to watch the show. “And hot ashell, which is a total plus.”

“Hey,”her boyfriend snaps to attention only to stumble slightly at the fast movement.

Youlaugh, “I think it’s time to get you guys home.”

“Andmiss this amazing DJ?! Hell no!”

“It’salready one, hun,” you say gently. “You have work, remember?”

Yourfriend groans but eventually nods in agreement to your relief. The last thingyou wanted to do was struggle with her to leave. You decide to wait a littlebit, wanting to fulfil your promise to Hyungwon.

He’scompletely lost in the music at this point. He’s turning dials all whileswaying to the beat. His head nods along when he’s really into it and you can’thelp but find it absolutely adorable how his brow creases slightly inconcentration. He looks up then and meets your gaze. You almost laugh at theabsurdity of the moment, things like that only happy in the dramas, but you can’thelp the butterflies in your stomach.

Hyungwongives you an expectant look, or maybe it’s an “I told you so” look but you can’tquite tell. In reply you cross your arms and give a one shouldered shrug in an “yeahyou’re okay” gesture. You see his face break into a grin but you can’t hear theaccompanying laugh as the song suddenly shifts into a new beat.

“Alright,kids,” you announce to your friends. “It’s time to go.”

“Yesma’am!” They both chant and soon you’re hauling them both towards the door.

“Sowait,” you friend puts down her make up brush to look at you in disbeliefthrough the mirror. “You left last night without getting the hot DJ’s number?Y/N what were you thinking?”

Youroll your eyes and flip the page of your book. You were getting closer to thefinal stretch and didn’t want to be interrupted.

“Iwasn’t in my right mind,” you deadpan, trying to appease to her. Insidethrough, you’re mentally slapping yourself.

“Noyou weren’t!” She shakes your head at you but lets the subject drop as shereturns to her make up.

“Hyungwonniemet a giiiirl~” Minhyuk pokes his fingers into Hyungwon’s arm as he teases him.Hyungwon tries to brush him off but he comes right back to continue poking.

“Youshould’ve told me,” Shownu speaks up. They’re sitting in the empty club at arandom booth. It’s supposed to be a business meeting for the upcoming shift,but after Wonho spilled that he saw Hyungwon “flirting” with someone the topicchanged.

Shownusits down at he booth and pops open a soda. “I would’ve given her a drink onthe house.”

“Shewas designated driver,” Hyungwon says around a yawn. “She was drinking aShirley Temple.”

Recognitionlights up Shownu’s eyes. “With the book, right?” Hyungwon nods, suddenlyinterested. “She seemed sweet. Tipped really good too.”

“Justtext her or something already,” Kihyun urges the taller boy with a light shoveof his shoulder. The others nod in agreement.

Hyungwon,who already doesn’t move very much, completely freezes. His eyes widening ever soslightly. Everyone catches the change in demeanor and soon all six of them letout a groan. Hyungwon sighs. “Shit.”

[footiefanficwonderland]

Plumber in Shining Armour (Mats Hummels OS)

A/N: Morning lovelies, This one is for Mikaela, a wonderful girl who has requested Mats OS ages ago. I hope you are still around and will read it eventually, and that you will forgive me for making you wait this long; I am really truly sorry. This is just a random, cute story and I hope you guys like it. Even if you hate it, please leave me your feedback, I would love to know what you think, I feel a little rusty tbh lol. PS: I don’t even know what is with this title, I forgot how hard it is to come up with a proper one. Please excuse my extremely poor sense of humor. :( Anyhow, enjoy xo

“I swear I've never met a woman as messy as you, Mikaela,“ Mats commented disapprovingly as he rose from her couch where he was sitting with his legs resting on her coffee table, pretending not to watch Pretty Little Liars marathon which was on. He marched to the kitchen and picked up a wet towel lying in front of the sink, but dropped it even faster once he realized it was soaking wet.

“Why are you leaving wet towels all over your kitchen?!” he exclaimed in disgust.

Mikaela appeared in the doorway, putting on one of her earrings. “Please don’t touch that. It’s bad enough that my family is coming over tonight and my sink is leaking, I don’t need any other mess around here.”

She was wearing a tight, deep maroon dress which reached to her knees and flattered her body shape quite well. The off-shoulder effect accented her sun-kissed shoulders. Her lob was bouncing in waves around her shoulders as she titled her head to fix the earring in place.

Her family was coming over tonight after more than half a year, and they were Portuguese so that included much more than just her parents and siblings- there would be at least twenty people at this dinner. Knowing how judgmental women in her family were especially to the fact that she was twenty- five and still without a sign of being married soon, she has tried extra hard to make everything perfect for their stay. She has been cleaning around her house for days, cooking and preparing all different kinds of food, just for their liking. And then her sink started leaking and she has called her plumber but his wife has just went into labor and- thanks to her superb luck- it was the summer vacation season and every other plumber she has called was either on vacation or couldn’t get back to her before Monday. And so she was left with a tiny pool in her kitchen on the day of the grand family dinner. Amazing.

“Your sink is leaking?” Mats questioned “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked a bit offended.

“What for?” she sighed going into the bathroom to find her other earring.”

“I can fix this in no time.”

“Sure you can”, she snorted under her breath.

“Hey, I heard that!” Mats said offended, appearing in the bathroom as well. “Where do you keep the tools?”

“Mats, just leave it, you’ll make an even bigger mess.”

“I won’t. I know what I’m doing.” He assured. “So, where?”

“There is a toolbox under the stairs,” she sighed as he already headed in that direction.

“But if you break something more, you are buying me a new kitchen, mister!” she called after him. He just showed her a thumbs up, as he started searching under the staircase.

As Mikaela was setting up the finishing touches on the dinning table, Mats was under her sink, touching this and adjusting that. The noises that he made and curses that escaped his mouth made Mikaela know better than to ask how it is going. Finally, he appeared from underneath the sink with a triumphant smile on his face. “All done!” he exclaimed.

He had barely had the time to finish his sentence, when something broke and a strong stream of water started pouring all over his head. At least it was the clean water. Mats cursed and hurried to try to stop it, but it was of course out of his abilities and he was only able to tighten the pipe a little bit, still leaving the water to leak from underneath. Mikaela was staring at him with such intensity as she was still holding one of the plates in her hand, and Mats examined her carefully actually scared that she might throw it at him.

“New kitchen it is.” Was all she said however, as she kept on adjusting the plates around the table. Suddenly she slumped in one of the chairs and, putting her head in her hands, started to whimper.

“Why does this have to happen to me all over and over again? Why can’t I just once impress my family so at least one year I can save myself from their snotty little comments on how big of a loser I am.” There weren’t any tears on her face, she just ranted in agony.

Mats approached her and squatted before her, taking her hands off of her face.

“Hey,” he started in a comforting voice. “You are not a loser, not even close. You are the smartest and kindest person I know. You are also one of the most independent ones. I’ve never seen someone so young build themselves such a life as you did. That is impressive. Hell, if you consider yourself a loser than I am an even bigger one. Which is of course not true because we both know how awesome I am.” He tried to joke but it seemed to be in vain as Mikaela continued.

“You don’t know my family Mats. This house, my career, that “life” you are talking about- it means nothing to them. As long as I don’t have a husband by my side and at least a child on the way, they will consider me a failure. And I’m not saying having a family is bad, but there are also other things in life. Not that I don’t want a big family of my own but I’m proud of who I am for now; I’m proud of my career.” She sighed in despair.

“Oh that’s easy,” Mat’s face lit up. “If your love life is the problem, you can just say I’m your boyfriend” he winked at her.

She gazed at him and wondered how everyone would think she’s crazy for not taking him up on that offer. Because who wouldn’t want Mats Hummels as their boyfriend. At least pretend-boyfriend for one night. But she didn’t, seriously. She met Mats when she bought this house- he was her first neighbor. And since there weren’t many single people or even people their age for that matter in this neighborhood, they eventually started hanging out quite often and somewhere between their coffee breaks in the afternoon on her porch or long rants about everything and anything what bothered them sitting in pajama shorts on his couch or bed at 2 am, they became quite great friends. Despite the fact that he was a world famous football player and a very handsome one indeed, she never regarded him as anything other than her friend. That is until recently when she started to notice things about him that she normally wouldn’t. For example, the V-line of his body when he changed shirts before her, asking for her advice on what suited him better, or the tight line of his jaw, or how incredibly hot he looked with water dripping from his hair whilst they were lazily hanging out by his pool. Suddenly she became very self conscious about what she wore or how she behaved around him, and suddenly she would start having this very strong, strange feeling going through her body whenever he touched her, whenever he came really close.

Mikaela tried to convince herself that it was simply due to her lack of interaction with man. However, after she has called a man she has started dating in the meantime “Mats”- thankfully his nickname was Max so he didn’t quite get her mistake- she finally admitted to herself that she was falling for her neighbor. The thought of admitting how she felt to him was- to her- never a possibility because she was one of the youngest scientists at the Naturwissenschaften Institute in Dortmund, while he was the Mats Hummels- and more importantly, the one whose only type of women seemed to be models and/or actors with waistline of 60 cm. She realized this was superficial way to judge one’s so- called “friend” but she had his dating history to confirm her theory.

And so she said, “Thanks for the offer but I’ll deal with them somehow.” Then she flashed him a reassuring smile, “Thank you for your support, I’m fine now, really.”

“You still owe me a new kitchen though,” she joked to lighten up the mood.

Mats laughed and pulled her into a hug, “Come here, you.”

“Ew, no, Mats let me go, you are all wet!” she objected trying to wriggle out of his hold.

“Have you considered having this dinner at a restaurant, though?” Mats asked as Mikaela returned to arranging the table. “I mean, I know this place where they have really amazing food, plus the place is big enough to take all of you. I think your family would like it.”

“But dinner is supposed to be in couple of hours, I don’t think anyone will have a place for such a big dinner now without reservation,” she sighed.

“That, my dear, is when the perks of being a “world cup winner” come in handy”, he winked at her, “The manager is a really close friend of mine. So what do you say? I call my plumber to come and fix this mess while you are at the dinner, so your family doesn’t have to even see any of this mess?”

“Anything to save yourself from having to buy me a new kitchen, huh Mats?” Mikaela joked smiling at him gratefully. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

He pulled her in for a hug. “Ah, anything for you. You know I hate seeing your pretty face all sad and sullen.”

And there it is. These were the mixed signals that Mats freaking Hummels kept sending her. Every once in a while, he would look at her like she was the only women in the world or he would cuddle with her sometimes a bit too intimately, or he would give her these compliments that made her feel so special, or he would just take care of her in every way that he possibly could. But Mikaela was always the rational one, so she never let herself get her hopes up.

While helping her clean up the table she has so carefully arranged, Mats fake- sighed, “You will have such a great time with your family. Eating alone gets so boring sometimes, you know.”

Mikaela knew very well what he was trying to do but decided on letting him try a little harder.

“It would be really great to get to know your family,” he continued, “I’m really curious to see who you look like the most.”

Mikaela put down the table cloth that she had just folded, “My dad, and if you want to come with, you should just ask,” she teased.

“Well, I’m waiting for you to be polite enough to ask, women”, he narrowed his eyes at her. “But I don’t need any more invitation than that. I really hate eating alone”, he sighed.

 xxx

The dinner seemed to go much better than Mikaela has hoped. Her family really seemed to like the choice of restaurant. Even more however, they seemed to like Mats, which was very surprising for Mikaela considering that her family has always been pretty clear about how disappointed they were in some of her partner choices who weren’t Portuguese, and how they strongly believed she ought to settle down with a Portuguese man. Nonetheless, Mats seemed to have fit right in, making conversation with everyone, retelling funny stories, making jokes. On couple of accounts, the women of her family questioned subtly and then later on not even so subtly anymore, whether the two were “a thing”. Mikaela assured them they are not, but she didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in her parents’ eyes. Like she said, everyone seemed to be very fond of Mats. Some of her family members even a bit too much for her liking. Her two-years younger and breathtakingly good-looking cousin Patricia seemed to not be able to take her eyes or hands for that matter off of Mats. As soon as she realized that Mats and Mikaela weren’t together, she was all over him. She had somehow managed to sit next to him, and had spent all night chatting with him. Not that Mikaela hasn’t already heard all those stories, but she couldn’t stand how her cousin kept touching him, coquettishly giggling at every other word that left his mouth. She even asked him to dance! In the restaurant where no one was dancing! Thankfully Mats has passed the offer. Somehow, she has even managed to convince him to take her to one of his games, and she wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing during the ride home. Mikaela thought her head was going to explode. She had no idea she could be this jealous.

 xxx

“Thank you for everything, I just hope my cousin didn’t bother you too much.” Mikaela said when she and Mats were finally standing on her porch while she was seeing him off.

“You know that you don’t have to take her to any games right? I know you just wanted to be polite, but she has bothered you enough.” She was a bit scared that Mats would say that he liked it, though.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mats smiled, “I would love to take her. I would also like it very much if you came with us. I’ve been asking you for ages.”

“I think Patricia would prefer it if it was just the two of you,” she carefully said, analyzing his reaction.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. I have this thing for my neighbor anyway.” Mats smiled cheekily and Mikaela was left speechless. Her rational brain didn’t even have time to try to explain this, because in the next moment, Mats leaned in and kissed her goodnight. He has done it a thousand times before, but this time, his lips lingered on the corner of her lips a bit too long.

Mikaela thanked heavens that it was dark outside and he couldn’t see her face properly because she was sure it was tomato red. A million thoughts ran through her mind, as Mats started walking away from her. When he got near her fence he called, loud enough for her to hear, “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

And Mikaela was sure the butterflies in her stomach won’t let her get any sleep tonight.

[inadarkdarkroom]

Psycho Roommate

This one isn’t a ghost story it’s a real life story although I would not be surprised if this guy was possessed by a demon. I spoke briefly about this experience once on an article about losing friends but I’ll tell the WHOLE THING because it still scares me to think about it and think about HIM.

So, the story begins with my now-fiancé, M, and his friend Tim. Tim doesn’t deserve anonymity and should be locked up before he can hurt anyone. Tim and my fiancé had been friends for only about a year but they became really close and like brothers. Tim had on and off dated this girl, E, forever. Whenever they were broken up, they’d date other people and end up back together. At one point, they broke up and Tim started dating this other girl for a while. She will be now known as V for victim for the story and also because I can’t remember her name. V had a young son and I had heard some stories from M and from Tim about her, nothing bad just stories that come out when you’re reminiscing. Through this I found out that V had loaned Tim about 700$ to make a trip to Mexico for his archeology class and had bought him a laptop and all this shit. They ended up breaking up before I started dating M and Tim was back to dating his on again off again gf when I first met him.

Tim was a vegan, straight edge, hare Krishna - aka a party pooper. JK he was actually pretty fun and didn’t care what others were doing and would always be the DD. he usually had some humor about it too and didn’t even get mad when my brother thought it was really hilarious to throw empty beer cans at him at a barbecue. My brother is an asshole - but one of those fun assholes you know?

So I met Tim pretty quick after I started dating M and at that time M was living in a big rooming house in a college town that was mostly empty for the summer because most of his old roommates had graduated and didn’t do sublets for the rest of the lease. Tim is short and fat and looks like s gremlin. He was nice enough and was always joking around and was just kind of one of those “weird guys” like harmless seeming but just kind of weird. M would have get togethers and bbqs at his house semi frequently over the summer and Tim would usually come. I started to get to know him better and better but for some reason I was always uncomfortable being around him. I am a HUGE JOKESTER so I make jokes all the time and Tim would always joke back to me but would make them kind of weirdly sexual? But we didn’t put much into it because we figured he was just being that weird funny guy and he wasn’t serious about it and plus my fiancé trusted him completely.

At one of these parties, everyone else was on the porch and I had gone in the house to use the bathroom or something and Tim was coming out of the kitchen so we started joking around and kind of like play fighting and I bet Tim that I could kick over his head. I’m tall and have long legs and can kick really high and Tim was the size of a hobgoblin. So I go to do it in an arc like fashion - starting low then sweeping over his head and then coming down on the other side. When I was starting to end the kick, he pushed me, and I fell backward into the front door which was that cheap treated glass type door. THANK HEAVEN ABOVE it didn’t shatter and slice me to bits but I left a great big cobweb shatter thing from where my ass hit the door. Right after it happens, M , comes rushing in to see if I’m alright and Tim started apologizing to him and not to me. He played it off like we were just fooling around and I THOUGHT we were too at the time. Looking back on it, I remember the look on his face right before he pushed me and he had this creepy smile. Thinking back on it there’s no way you wouldn’t know that pushing me would push me into the glass door. SO everything was fine and no one was hurt so we laughed it off and continued about our night.

Tim would always make those jokes that all friends do like “if you hurt him I’ll kill you” and one time I was like “yeah haha I’m not planning on it” and was just trying to laugh it off but he would NOT LET IT GO. He kept saying he’d kill me if I hurt M and I just kept trying to laugh it off and he finally stopped when M came back from the bathroom (we were getting lunch at a restaurant)

So once again I just chalk it up to him being a fucking weirdo and I tell M about it later and he thinks the same. That summer continued on being the best thing ever. Tim and E ended up breaking up for good this time, me and M got engaged and everything ruled. Toward the end of the summer Tim started dating a new girl named A. A was so cool and funny and she rescued and trained dogs and was just awesome. And way too cute for Tim and they’re STILL TOGETHER NOW BARFFFFF.

Anyway, M and Tim end up moving into this shitty ass townhouse in the ghetto together when both of their leases were up in August. Tim had lived in the apartments across the street and claimed he could get s discount on rent (lie) and things were getting down the wire so they just moved in there. BIGGEST MISTAKE EVER.

Anyway things are fine at first but M starts getting more and more annoyed with Tim. It’s just roommate things like Tim never cleaned and never bought anything for the place and if he did he’d buy like the shittiest stuff - like dollar store brand 1 ply toilet paper. And also his fucking cats had fleas and gave one of our ferrets fleas. She had never had fleas ever and she had a white coat so we noticed them pretty quick. He said it was IMPOSSIBLE for the fleas to have come from his cats (lie) but the fleas would NOT GO AWAY no matter how many flea treatments we gave poor little Chloe. The fleas actually probably came from Tim because he is disgusting.

Anyway things are like okay for a few months and Tim is still dating A. During this time, my fiancé ended up buying a (LEGAL) sawed-off shotgun to keep in his closet for protection. There was a dealer that just dealt right over the fence in our backyard and people were constantly being robbed and jumped and stabbed and a few murders had happened on our street SO whatever, it made him feel better before we had gotten our dog.

He had told Tim about it just so that he knew because I mean they were living together but it was always kept in Ms closet on a rack. The weekend before Halloween last year, we were all hanging out, me, M, Tim, and his new gf. We were watching the hills have eyes in the living room and just kind of goofing off. Tim and A were going to a Halloween party the next day and Tim was dressing up as ash from evil dead two - you know the bloody shirt the gun missing hand all that. He kept talking about how he should just use the shotgun as a prop and we just kept laughing it off but he kept bringing it up over and over and over whenever he could. Watching the movie - oh if that were me I’d just take the shotgun and kill the mutant. Shit like that. Eventually he starts bringing up the girl he had dated a long time ago the VICTIM (V) And he just keeps bringing her up for no reason and we were just like....okay? And ignored it. We called it a night probably around 430 am and the next morning when we woke up M Had all of these Facebook messages from V and they were all super urgent and she sounded really freaked out. She left her number for M to give her a call so he did. Turns out the night before, Tim was texting her the entire night, while we were all watching he movie, while he was with his NEW GF, and saying stuff like he’s been making himself better for her and all he wants to do is marry her and take care of her and her son. She was really worried about him and sent us the screen caps of the conversation because after she told Tim she had a new boyfriend he started saying he was going to kill himself because if she didn’t want him life wasn’t worth living. He told her he had gotten the shotgun and he was in the basement and was making a countdown until he was going to pull the trigger. He said the gun was in his mouth and he was going to pull the trigger at 335 or something. Which none of this was true because at that time we were all in the living room watching a movie together.

Tim and his gf were out for the day and we were worried for Tim and M had planned on talking to him when he got home. In the meantime I went out to the sporting goods store and bought a locking gun case and we ended up having a friend of ours who had a gun safe come and grab it for safe keeping. Tim came back and M told him he needed to get help and that he was worried. He tried to play it off like it was some joke and he was just messing around but the texts proved he was serious. M tells him he needs to get help and talk to his parents and that if he didn’t by the end of the weekend, M was going to call his parents and talk to them. We were just worried about our friend at this point. BUT

The next day we wake up to more texts. Screenshots from the night before when Tim was at the party with his new girlfriend. The texts had taken a different turn. He started saying he was on his way across the state with the gun and was going to take care of V, her son, and her new boyfriend. He sent her texts all night threatening to kill her and her son and her boyfriend in various ways. We freak out and M sends me to my dads house and talks to Tim and let’s him know what he knows. He tells Tim that the ex girlfriend has already called the police and made a restraining order and that M was going to call the police on Tim for this if he didn’t go into the hospital for a psych evaluation. In my state, you get put on a 72 hour psychiatric hold if you come forward and say you are going to hurt yourself or someone else. M made it clear that they wouldn’t be living together anymore and that someone would have to move out and told Tim that if he came back to the house before 72 hours were up he would call the police on him and tell them what had gone down.

So blah blah blah, Tim ends up moving out and fucking us over forever with the townhouse from ghetto hell. He comes back one night to “talk” and get his things and I have never been so scared of someone in my entire life. His eyes were black and lifeless and he had almost a hypnotizing effect when he talked (pure sociopath) and he was starting to kind of get M to go along with being friends again and I was pissed. I said “you two will never be friends again, I never want to see your face again, I don’t want to talk to you again, I want you out of our lives forever. You can’t be trusted and you tricked us for this long”

He then says “it’s funny that you don’t want to see me again cuz imagine how I feel about you”. Scared me to death. He goes to gather some of his things and M and I go out for a cigarette and I ask him what the fuck happened. He had no idea and said he just felt hypnotized by Tim when he was talking and he thanked me for snapping him out of it. We barricaded ourselves in Ms room for the night and didn’t sleep. For the few hours Tim was there we could hear him softly chanting Hare Krishna the entire time.

A few weeks later we were sick of so much of his shit still lying around so we packed up his stuff and moved it into the basement. I found a notebook that he had written a poem story thing in. I can’t remember it exactly but I’ll do my best :

“I walk home past the houses and see lives and lights

I make it to my dark door and open it waiting to see my love my life

I go down to the basement where I left her she still looks the same

Her hair is perfect and her lips are still stretched in a final scream

She looks so good in red

I turn the record player on and I sing”

[myaekingheart]

summer road trip 2018 ; day four

Nothing too eventful today. My grandparents were out of the house early this morning, as they are avid churchgoers and had to attend choir practice before the service. They told me not to worry about joining them and to just sleep as long as I wanted, especially since my mom implanted the idea of my being in bed until 1pm into their brains. Much to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t sleep that long. My stomach woke me up around 10am, and I laid in bed for an extra hour scrolling through my phone, blowing my nose, wiping my watery eyes, and cursing the pollen gods for torturing me like so. When I finally did get up, I nearly died by how sweet my grandparents are. They set a place at the table for me before they left for when I did wake up and get breakfast: a bowl for my cereal, two glasses for juice and water, a spoon, and a napkin. I poured myself some Honey Bunches of Oats, orange juice, and water and went to town watching the wildlife out their window and checking out facebook to see what pictures everyone posted from the wedding last night. Funny enough, my grandparents came home right when I was finishing my food. They entered the house quietly so as to not wake me up if I was still asleep, but I heard them and turned around to say good morning. The rest of the day was really relaxed and not worth mentioning much of but I’m going to detail the minutia anyways because...that’s just what I do. So after I was done breakfast, my Pop Pop went out to do his usual grocery shopping and I hopped in the shower. Perhaps my biggest regret was either not getting one last night or using so much hairspray on my bangs because while I was glad they were plastered in place, they made brushing a bitch when I was getting ready for bed. I tried rinsing most of it out but to no avail. The only way to fix it would to be wash it out myself in the shower. Washing my hair was kind of nerve-wracking, though. I was scared of how it’d look after the fact, what with the fiasco from yesterday and all. Fortunately it wasn’t totally terrible but I mean, I had to brush it so that it would lay correctly and remember to part it on the left side instead of the right and because I don’t have layers or anything, the rest of my hair looks really drab and frizzy and shit. I guess this is the price I pay. For what, I have no fucking idea. Anyway, I don’t want to dwell on my hair for too long anyways. After my shower, I got dressed and then hung out for a bit. When my Pop Pop came back, he asked me if I was hungry and I told him I was so they grabbed all their lunch fixings and let me go to town. I had a turkey and cheese sandwich with mustard on a roll, potato chips, and three chocolate chip cookies. So a very well-rounded meal, I think. I also saw five deer within ten minutes, four of which were all together, in my grandmother’s backyard (seeing as their house backs right up into the woods and she is legit Snow White, setting out bird feeders and bird baths and corn to attract all the cool wildlife, and she takes incredible pictures of them). Afterward, I decided to catch up on my Mermay drawings since I got really behind what with the road trip and the wedding and all that good stuff so I mapped out what I was going to do for my four pieces and began tracking down supplies. I don’t have a sketchbook to draw them in-- the first two were just on regular printer paper-- so I was going to do the same for these next four but my grandmother, who takes art classes and is a really talented watercolor painter, grabbed a blank sketchbook she had with her supplies and a pencil and a quality eraser and let me go nuts. I sat at the kitchen table working for a bit, and I got through two drawings, before I started to feel kind of...off. It was the typical lightheadedness and stomach cramps I get sometimes and I was seriously scared I was going to eventually get sick. I tried to push through it like I always do but to no avail, so I resolved to migrating back into the guest room for a “nap” to try and regroup. I didn’t necessarily think I was tired but I ended up falling asleep for two hours anyways so I guess I lacked more energy than I thought. I woke up to my grandmom knocking on the door to let me know dinner was ready. As someone who has not had a good, well-rounded, home-cooked meal like this in a while, I was pretty satisfied with the food. We had honey citrus chicken that was good but a little too mild for my taste (my grandmom tweaked the recipe a bit so that it had less cayenne pepper in it-- I liked it enough to want to make it myself at home for my boyfriend, but I’m definitely going to use the recommended amount of seasoning this time for more a kick), corn, rice medley, and Hawaiian sweet rolls. I didn’t eat all of everything seeing as my stomach was still feeling a little iffy but I tried my best to eat as much as I could. The rice probably went down the easiest, to be honest, but then again I am lowkey addicted to rice and it was really fucking yummy so, you know, fuck it. I don’t always like using this term, either, but “rice is a safe food.” I mean, hey, the BRAT diet exists for a reason and without rice, it would just be the BAT diet. I didn’t think I could handle dessert but my Pop Pop bought two whole containers of fresh strawberries and he cut them up and sugared them and my grandmom scooped them into dishes with whipped cream and I honestly could not resist. They were delicious and I took my time eating them and basically cleared the bowl. It was really nice, too, because my Pop Pop went into the dining room to answer some phone calls about business stuff so my grandmom and I were left by ourselves at the kitchen table to have a really interesting conversation about relationships. I can’t for the life of me remember how we got on the subject but it was really cool to hear stories from the old days when she and my Pop Pop were young. They’ve known each other since they were ten, and will have been married for 61 years this week. They met through church and apparently their first interaction was in a contest that she beat him in by selling more one more box of candy Easter eggs than he did. She told me about how he’d always carry on in the back of their meetings, and she’d tell him that if he couldn’t shut up he should just go home. She told me about how she wasn’t allowed to go steady as a teenager because her father believed that you needed to experience multiple different types of people and personalities in relationships rather than committing to just one person and restricting yourself to that without ever knowing what else anyone was like, and if you were making a mistake or settling or something, which I thought was a really interesting concept honestly. She told me about a boy she was with once that she really thought would be the one but he was in a military family and was shipped out to Texas the day after a dance she asked him to, and that he had to borrow a tux from someone because all of his clothes were packed but he did, in fact, take her, but then didn’t write her for a year because he apparently lost her address and didn’t get it back until his mother came back into town and looked it up. She told me about how my Pop Pop asked her to his senior prom (she had already graduated-- she’s a year or two older than him) and that was how they started dating. Then when my Pop Pop was off the phone he came back in and we talked about the good old days at their previous church and all the crazy activities they held like a Minstrel Show where my grandmom played something whose name I forget but go to wear a crown, and my Pop Pop was someone named Mr. Bones and had a Scotch plaid cummerbund and bow tie; the “Womanless Wedding” where all the men dressed as women, and two of them were belly dancers in the little bras with bare stomachs and my Pop Pop was Maude and how they were all in the back trying to figure out how to put on bras to give the illusion of breasts; the “Tom Thumb Wedding” where my mom as a child was the bride even though she had a 102 fever-- she insisted on doing it anyways. It’s funny because I had always thought back to my other grandfather, my dad’s dad, who passed away in 2014 and how he always told me stories of when he was a kid and how there were times when I didn’t really listen or appreciate the value of it. Now that he’s gone, I still regret not engaging in that history so now that I have a chance at that again with my mother’s parents, I want to take advantage of it and really listen because I don’t see them very often and they’re getting up there, as well (my grandmother is an 83 year old breast cancer survivor). I don’t want them to pass away without having learned about their histories and really paid attention to them. The thought of going through that remorse every day again breaks my heart, honestly. So if I have anything else to say, it’s to actually listen to older people and open your mind to stories of the olden days because they’re far more enriching than you think they are and in the end, you’ll feel closer to that person by knowing their memories and their past. Just a thought.

[samanthasroberts]

27 Of My Most Cringeworthy Moments From My Early Twenties I Will Recount Here For Your Entertainment

If you are my mother or my father or are in any way affiliated with them, please stop reading right here. Unless you’re Aunt Julie. Because you can hang, Jules.

1. I once locked myself into a bathroom with several cases of beer, because the cops showed up to a college party. I declared it my throne and proceeded to continue to drink cans of Coors Light for over an hour BY MYSELF until I decided it was safe to emerge.

2. After my 21st birthday party, I fell asleep on my staircase with my tights midway down my legs cradling my then baby dog and assuring her over and over, “You’re so beautiful.” I woke up to her chewing on my hair.

3. I played Peter Pan in college and had some sort of weird virus that resulted in 85% of my body being covered in hives. I was released from the ER after my school’s health center sent me there post thinking I was going into anaphylactic shock, but I had to do press and several photo shoots for the show. So now, there are photos of me (that yes, you can find) dressed as Peter Pan, flying around, while on several milligrams of Valium. Gives a whole new meaning to “flying high.” (sorry I had to.)

4. Once I got drunk in a field solely so I could hang out with a goat named Penelope. Here’s a picture:

5. My boyfriend for the latter half of my early twenties was around a year younger than me. So he couldn’t drink with me (in public anyway) at my 22nd and instead had to take care of me, bless his heart. On my 21st birthday a friend had challenged me to take a shot of SUPER cheap whiskey and I’d managed to do it. On my 22nd I tried to complete that same challenge and ended up puking into a cloth napkin, and sneakily throwing it away in the trash. My boyfriend promptly took me home after.

6. Another throw up story (let’s just stick with the theme) involved a pint glass. A party was being thrown at my ex’s house and naturally, I didn’t want to attend. One of my best guyfriend’s offered to accompany me to a bar near said ex’s place called “The Town And Country Lounge” which is a bar in a refurbished double wide. We sat there for approximately two to three hours, drinking cheap beer and shooting whiskey. The last shot of Jameson I did didn’t sit well, and I ended up methodically vomitting into the pint glass next to me, filling it straight to the brim. Surprisingly though, I didn’t spill.

7. At 25 I got so heated with a cab driver after a long night that he ended up calling the police on me. From my own phone. Saving that whole story for my eventual Lifetime movie. But it happened.

8. I went to a One Direction concert and a stranger who was drunk and talking animatedly with his hands clocked me straight in the face. I told him it was okay, I missed Zayn too. Again here’s a photo from said evening:

9. At 25 I sent presents to some dude who wrote for the same website as me, because I thought it meant we’d be friends. Now I’m pretty sure he just wanted to have phone sex (never did) because he was lonely as he stopped talking to me the SECOND there was a possibility of us hanging out IRL. Learn from my mistakes kids: don’t send flat-brims to people just because they’re sad. Save that money.

10. I left my number on more coasters and napkins for cute bartenders than I can even remember. It’s not really a cute move though, and I fully shake my head at myself now.

11. I sort of notoriously trolled a guy on Tinder and wrote about it. It made a lot of people really mad. I still stand by my original intent of writing the piece, which was/is that it’s kind of fucked up that we laugh when people threaten us or harass us or even just get rude, but I didn’t execute this well at all. Like honestly, I am linking to it and saying, “I think this ispoorlywritten and I am the one who wrote it.” BUT – I don’t believe in deleting work even when I don’t really relate to it anymore or even when it doesn’t garner the reaction I was hoping for. Instead I just shake my head when I get random messages about this piece (yes, even over a year later) and use it as a reminder to always do better.

12.After my first big breakup I decided to get out of a dodge for a bit and flew home to be with my parents and my childhood best friends. Only problem, I was flying out of my college town on my ex’s birthday. And apparently, his parents were also flying out on the same flight to go on vacation. I was in first class (not bougie – just the only ticket that was available) and they had to awkwardly stand beside me waiting to get to their seats. One of my absolute least favorite memories.

13. I impulsively got a tattoo with a sort of boyfriend one day on my ribs. I didn’t really WANT a rib tattoo but this dude told me it was “so sexy” so I caved. I also made the mistake of not going to a reputable artist, and frankly the tattoo looks like shit now. Eventually I’ll get it covered up but for now, the scratchy quote stays. Here’s another a picture so you can see visual representation of my mistakes!! Yay!

"curiosity often leads to trouble."

A photo posted by Kendra Syrdal (@kendrasyrdal) on Apr 6, 2013 at 4:58pm PDT

14. Once I went out on a date with a guy who actually, seriously quoted that fucking AWFUL book about picking up women called and I didn’t leave. Not only did I not leave, but I let him stay the night at my apartment (didn’t hook up with him because I maintained SOME level of self-respect) AND let him shower in the morning. He used my brand new, pretty spendy Sephora bubble bath as body wash, and opened brand new shampoo. He wanted to have a “discussion” after I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Yeah…I pick winners.

15.For my 20th birthday party I threw a joint birthday party with my friend Nicki that was “P” themed. This meant everyone who came to the party had to come dressed as something that started with the letter P. (Best costume was this dude Kyle who came as the preamble. It was gold.) The only other rule was that no one could come as a princess because that’s what Nicki and I were being. I dressed like this:

16.I was so in love with a boy that I bought him Decemberists tickets for literally no reason. Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the moments where I look at my younger self and go, “What the actual fuck were you thinking?!” have to do with spending money on boys who didn’t appreciate me. My therapist told me that I show affection through material goods because I have difficulty expressing emotions. Whatever, I’m working on it.

17.I have written so many prose pieces about guys who I knew were pulling away from me in a sad, pathetic attempt to try and make them see that I was worth their time and attention. Spoiler alert: If a guy doesn’t even read your stuff to begin with, this will literally never work.

18. At 23 I went to Las Vegas for my best friend’s 21st birthday and the two of us go so lit up before going to the wax museum that we found a karaoke machine (it’s next to the was figure of Simon Cowell) and started serenading the entire museum with renditions of Celine Dion hits like “Taking Chances” and “The Power of Love.” We attempted to shake his hand after. We cleared the room of 70+ people. What I’m saying is, it was embarrassing.

19. I was really bad about remembering to renew my tags for my car in college and was pulled over for said offense one summer, and still didn’t renew my tags. 7 months (yes I know, I was/am the worst) later I was pulled over AGAIN for the same thing. Apparently there was a warrant out for my arrest and the officer decided midnight was the appropriate time to lecture me about this. Catch? I had just finished a performance ofwhich, if you’re not familiar, is set in Japan. So I was in FULL kabuki makeup while this policeman decided to lecture me about my fuck up. I was sobbing, Ben Nye makeup was smearing everywhere, he felt pretty bad. It was overall just a mess. But I didn’t go to jail. Thanks, Missoula Cop who didn’t take me in while I was still rocking the geisha makeup. I really appreciate it.

20.Iwas feeling vulnerable and sad one Halloween and decided the cure to this was hooking up with my friend’s much younger, VERY hot, trying to be a stripper friend. It was fine, it was whatever. But we hooked up on the floor of an apartment which was basically concrete. I ended up slipping a disc, bruising my tailbone, and having to spend the next 3 months getting chiropractic work to make my back okay again.He was hot, but not hot enough to justify that amount of back pain. #srynotsry

21.I got violently ill once from antibiotics and promptly shit in my leggings after trusting the fart. There is more to the story but again, saving it for my future bestseller.

22. I thought this was a good look. And also did this in public.

23.In college I played Columbia in the live musical version of where, for the midnight shows only, we were topless. I debated about it, but it was a paid gig and I felt fine about it so I decided sure, why not. My boyfriend at the time was NOT okay with it. I later found out he adamantly REFUSED to let his friends come to the show, even going so far as to pay them back for the tickets they had already purchased. I didn’t find this out for years and it still makes me super embarrassed for his behavior.

24.A guy broke up with me when I was 25 because I didn’t make enough eye contact. That was his honest to god reason. (Still bitter.)

25.I went on a mini vacation with some friends to Austin, Texas for my 26th birthday and decided to really just GO for it when I was there. This meant doing one of the ultimate “why not” moments: the Tinder one night stand. Only problem? We didn’t know our way around Texas and I didn’t bring any condoms. So my solution was to have Postmates deliver them. I didn’t even try to play it off and ordered like, chips and gum to make it better. I straight up just ordered a box of 16 Trojan’s to the AirBnb. The delivery man was loling, my “date” was loling, my friends were loling. It was lols all around. 10/10 recommend.

26. A friend of mine came to Seattle for an audition and I took her out one night to blow off some steam/show her the city. We ended up drinking all night with a professional indoor soccer team from Vegas, and I definitely got naked in a photobooth with a bunch of them. Somehow though, I still didn’t get laid. Only I could be one of two girls surrounded by a bunch of guys who were hot, professional athletes, show them all of my tattoos that required me taking my clothes off, and end up going home to eat queso in bed.

27.I lived. I made memories. Or I had those memories told back to me because I didn’t really…well… them. And even though sometimes that makes me all “god dammit smdh” I honestly think it’s pretty dope that I have all of these stories – cringeworthy or what have you.

Plus I once peed on my neighbor’s lawn furniture because she was threatening to call the cops on my Harry Potter themed party. And you can’t pay money for those kinds of stories.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/

[adambstingus]

27 Of My Most Cringeworthy Moments From My Early Twenties I Will Recount Here For Your Entertainment

If you are my mother or my father or are in any way affiliated with them, please stop reading right here. Unless you’re Aunt Julie. Because you can hang, Jules.

1. I once locked myself into a bathroom with several cases of beer, because the cops showed up to a college party. I declared it my throne and proceeded to continue to drink cans of Coors Light for over an hour BY MYSELF until I decided it was safe to emerge.

2. After my 21st birthday party, I fell asleep on my staircase with my tights midway down my legs cradling my then baby dog and assuring her over and over, “You’re so beautiful.” I woke up to her chewing on my hair.

3. I played Peter Pan in college and had some sort of weird virus that resulted in 85% of my body being covered in hives. I was released from the ER after my school’s health center sent me there post thinking I was going into anaphylactic shock, but I had to do press and several photo shoots for the show. So now, there are photos of me (that yes, you can find) dressed as Peter Pan, flying around, while on several milligrams of Valium. Gives a whole new meaning to “flying high.” (sorry I had to.)

4. Once I got drunk in a field solely so I could hang out with a goat named Penelope. Here’s a picture:

5. My boyfriend for the latter half of my early twenties was around a year younger than me. So he couldn’t drink with me (in public anyway) at my 22nd and instead had to take care of me, bless his heart. On my 21st birthday a friend had challenged me to take a shot of SUPER cheap whiskey and I’d managed to do it. On my 22nd I tried to complete that same challenge and ended up puking into a cloth napkin, and sneakily throwing it away in the trash. My boyfriend promptly took me home after.

6. Another throw up story (let’s just stick with the theme) involved a pint glass. A party was being thrown at my ex’s house and naturally, I didn’t want to attend. One of my best guyfriend’s offered to accompany me to a bar near said ex’s place called “The Town And Country Lounge” which is a bar in a refurbished double wide. We sat there for approximately two to three hours, drinking cheap beer and shooting whiskey. The last shot of Jameson I did didn’t sit well, and I ended up methodically vomitting into the pint glass next to me, filling it straight to the brim. Surprisingly though, I didn’t spill.

7. At 25 I got so heated with a cab driver after a long night that he ended up calling the police on me. From my own phone. Saving that whole story for my eventual Lifetime movie. But it happened.

8. I went to a One Direction concert and a stranger who was drunk and talking animatedly with his hands clocked me straight in the face. I told him it was okay, I missed Zayn too. Again here’s a photo from said evening:

9. At 25 I sent presents to some dude who wrote for the same website as me, because I thought it meant we’d be friends. Now I’m pretty sure he just wanted to have phone sex (never did) because he was lonely as he stopped talking to me the SECOND there was a possibility of us hanging out IRL. Learn from my mistakes kids: don’t send flat-brims to people just because they’re sad. Save that money.

10. I left my number on more coasters and napkins for cute bartenders than I can even remember. It’s not really a cute move though, and I fully shake my head at myself now.

11. I sort of notoriously trolled a guy on Tinder and wrote about it. It made a lot of people really mad. I still stand by my original intent of writing the piece, which was/is that it’s kind of fucked up that we laugh when people threaten us or harass us or even just get rude, but I didn’t execute this well at all. Like honestly, I am linking to it and saying, “I think this ispoorlywritten and I am the one who wrote it.” BUT – I don’t believe in deleting work even when I don’t really relate to it anymore or even when it doesn’t garner the reaction I was hoping for. Instead I just shake my head when I get random messages about this piece (yes, even over a year later) and use it as a reminder to always do better.

12.After my first big breakup I decided to get out of a dodge for a bit and flew home to be with my parents and my childhood best friends. Only problem, I was flying out of my college town on my ex’s birthday. And apparently, his parents were also flying out on the same flight to go on vacation. I was in first class (not bougie – just the only ticket that was available) and they had to awkwardly stand beside me waiting to get to their seats. One of my absolute least favorite memories.

13. I impulsively got a tattoo with a sort of boyfriend one day on my ribs. I didn’t really WANT a rib tattoo but this dude told me it was “so sexy” so I caved. I also made the mistake of not going to a reputable artist, and frankly the tattoo looks like shit now. Eventually I’ll get it covered up but for now, the scratchy quote stays. Here’s another a picture so you can see visual representation of my mistakes!! Yay!

“curiosity often leads to trouble.”

A photo posted by Kendra Syrdal (@kendrasyrdal) on Apr 6, 2013 at 4:58pm PDT

14. Once I went out on a date with a guy who actually, seriously quoted that fucking AWFUL book about picking up women called and I didn’t leave. Not only did I not leave, but I let him stay the night at my apartment (didn’t hook up with him because I maintained SOME level of self-respect) AND let him shower in the morning. He used my brand new, pretty spendy Sephora bubble bath as body wash, and opened brand new shampoo. He wanted to have a “discussion” after I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Yeah…I pick winners.

15.For my 20th birthday party I threw a joint birthday party with my friend Nicki that was “P” themed. This meant everyone who came to the party had to come dressed as something that started with the letter P. (Best costume was this dude Kyle who came as the preamble. It was gold.) The only other rule was that no one could come as a princess because that’s what Nicki and I were being. I dressed like this:

16.I was so in love with a boy that I bought him Decemberists tickets for literally no reason. Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the moments where I look at my younger self and go, “What the actual fuck were you thinking?!” have to do with spending money on boys who didn’t appreciate me. My therapist told me that I show affection through material goods because I have difficulty expressing emotions. Whatever, I’m working on it.

17.I have written so many prose pieces about guys who I knew were pulling away from me in a sad, pathetic attempt to try and make them see that I was worth their time and attention. Spoiler alert: If a guy doesn’t even read your stuff to begin with, this will literally never work.

18. At 23 I went to Las Vegas for my best friend’s 21st birthday and the two of us go so lit up before going to the wax museum that we found a karaoke machine (it’s next to the was figure of Simon Cowell) and started serenading the entire museum with renditions of Celine Dion hits like “Taking Chances” and “The Power of Love.” We attempted to shake his hand after. We cleared the room of 70+ people. What I’m saying is, it was embarrassing.

19. I was really bad about remembering to renew my tags for my car in college and was pulled over for said offense one summer, and still didn’t renew my tags. 7 months (yes I know, I was/am the worst) later I was pulled over AGAIN for the same thing. Apparently there was a warrant out for my arrest and the officer decided midnight was the appropriate time to lecture me about this. Catch? I had just finished a performance ofwhich, if you’re not familiar, is set in Japan. So I was in FULL kabuki makeup while this policeman decided to lecture me about my fuck up. I was sobbing, Ben Nye makeup was smearing everywhere, he felt pretty bad. It was overall just a mess. But I didn’t go to jail. Thanks, Missoula Cop who didn’t take me in while I was still rocking the geisha makeup. I really appreciate it.

20.Iwas feeling vulnerable and sad one Halloween and decided the cure to this was hooking up with my friend’s much younger, VERY hot, trying to be a stripper friend. It was fine, it was whatever. But we hooked up on the floor of an apartment which was basically concrete. I ended up slipping a disc, bruising my tailbone, and having to spend the next 3 months getting chiropractic work to make my back okay again.He was hot, but not hot enough to justify that amount of back pain. #srynotsry

21.I got violently ill once from antibiotics and promptly shit in my leggings after trusting the fart. There is more to the story but again, saving it for my future bestseller.

22. I thought this was a good look. And also did this in public.

23.In college I played Columbia in the live musical version of where, for the midnight shows only, we were topless. I debated about it, but it was a paid gig and I felt fine about it so I decided sure, why not. My boyfriend at the time was NOT okay with it. I later found out he adamantly REFUSED to let his friends come to the show, even going so far as to pay them back for the tickets they had already purchased. I didn’t find this out for years and it still makes me super embarrassed for his behavior.

24.A guy broke up with me when I was 25 because I didn’t make enough eye contact. That was his honest to god reason. (Still bitter.)

25.I went on a mini vacation with some friends to Austin, Texas for my 26th birthday and decided to really just GO for it when I was there. This meant doing one of the ultimate “why not” moments: the Tinder one night stand. Only problem? We didn’t know our way around Texas and I didn’t bring any condoms. So my solution was to have Postmates deliver them. I didn’t even try to play it off and ordered like, chips and gum to make it better. I straight up just ordered a box of 16 Trojan’s to the AirBnb. The delivery man was loling, my “date” was loling, my friends were loling. It was lols all around. 10/10 recommend.

26. A friend of mine came to Seattle for an audition and I took her out one night to blow off some steam/show her the city. We ended up drinking all night with a professional indoor soccer team from Vegas, and I definitely got naked in a photobooth with a bunch of them. Somehow though, I still didn’t get laid. Only I could be one of two girls surrounded by a bunch of guys who were hot, professional athletes, show them all of my tattoos that required me taking my clothes off, and end up going home to eat queso in bed.

27.I lived. I made memories. Or I had those memories told back to me because I didn’t really…well… them. And even though sometimes that makes me all “god dammit smdh” I honestly think it’s pretty dope that I have all of these stories – cringeworthy or what have you.

Plus I once peed on my neighbor’s lawn furniture because she was threatening to call the cops on my Harry Potter themed party. And you can’t pay money for those kinds of stories.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/30/27-of-my-most-cringeworthy-moments-from-my-early-twenties-i-will-recount-here-for-your-entertainment/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/164769835047