#i just skip/fast forward through its a bad habit of mine

[jhzhuxx]

maybe it doesn't account for much considering i'm a very casual viewer - in fact, even calling myself a viewer is generous - but the finale of hidden agenda really felt so mismatched with the rest of the series in a lot of different aspects. also appreciate what it did in highlighting tense family dynamics but it left a lot to be desired

[ofmythsandmadness]

c’mere, honey | d.h

BASED ON THIS ASK... can i ask for a like happy fic wit female pronouns and prompt 34? diego hargreeves pls ily -- anon. WARNINGS:  female pronouns used; no physical descriptions of the person are made, but I didn’t go gender-neutral on this one, per the anon’s request. this was written a while ago, but i’m reposting bc tumblr refuses to let anything of mine be shown in tags anymore. :( hopefully this works. x

HE WASN’T SURE WHEN THE NIGHTLY VISITS BECAME A SERIOUS HABIT.

He never did it with the intention to start a regular schedule. It had only been a combination of piss-poor factors -- his late night street-stalking habits, his inability to stay away from the one friend he hadn’t lost yet, and the fact that no matter how bad his night had gone, he couldn’t make it past a minute without laughing at one of her stupid jokes, or smiling at her dancing stupidly in the kitchen in an attempt to make him happy. He wanted to be around her, and his body dragged him to her apartment even without thinking about it, and then...it just happened.

He came to her almost every night. Sometimes he felt bad about it and skipped out, forcing himself to take a break from bothering her. But she scolded him about that every time. Like she actually wanted him there, stinking about her living room and staring at her swivelling form every chance he could. He didn’t really believe her, but he came anyways.

Couldn’t keep himself away.

That night started just as they always did. Diego slipped in through the half-cracked window, and she hailed him in with a loud cry too cheery for that time of night. He used to flinch at her touch; over time, he grew to expect it. Even going so far as to reach for her incoming arms, pulling her to him as tight as he could and burrowing his cold face in her neck. Sometimes, he debated pulling back enough and kissing the soft, sweet-smelling skin, just barely pressing his love into the curve.

“I missed you,” he said instead. The words were muffled by her thick red sweater, but when her arms squeezed a little harder, he knew she heard him. “You good?”

“All good,” she replied. “Better, now that I’ve seen you.”

They’ve always shared a flirtatious relationship -- it built naturally and lingered even when they remained strictly platonic. Maybe it was what he liked most about her. She didn’t seem to bother with the strict guidelines of most friendships. Lines always blurred with her and the way she hugged, how she held his hand and traced soft details into the calloused skin -- how she pulled him to the couch and sank into with his arms still around her, forcing his shivering body to lean into her own honey sweet touch.

She pulled away from him a little, holding onto his gloved hands. Her own fingers danced over the black fabric.

“You’re always so cold.”

“M’sorry.”

She shrugged. Her grasp still held. “Not a bad thing. Just an observation.”

Diego wondered if he should pull away. If he should just pull his hands out of her grasp and throw himself out from whence he came. He didn’t want to ruin her. Pull apart her naturally warm energy with his cold, bitter touch. She was too good...for him, for the world, for life in general.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Her brows furrowed dark and heavy over gentle eyes. In the back of his mind, Diego imagines reaching out and smoothing the worry lines that formed. He considers letting his cold hands press into her skin. His fingers almost leap forward on their own accord. It takes all his inner strength to hold the eagerness back, to remind himself to keep some distance.

His hands fell limp in her grasp. She didn’t miss a beat.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Diego didn’t look at her. He knew she would catch the strand too quickly and pull the lie too fast and he wasn’t built to withstand a loss like that. “I’m okay.” But his voice caught, and he stumbled over his own falsehood. “I...just…”

“...just?”

“Tired,” Diego sighed. And he is. It’s not far from the real, full truth. “Just tired.”

Her head cocked, surveying his sunken form. Her tongue clicks; the sound made him think of a hen, and his brain imagined her fussing over him with the grace of a mother.

“You need to sleep more, honey.”

God, he loved when she called him honey.

“Nah? And miss hanging out with my favourite person?”

Her nose crinkled. If he was more alert, he would catch how her eyes glowed dull red in the lamplight, or the way she had to blink away the fuzzy feeling creeping into her mind. He’d later chide himself for it. “There’s no way I’m your favourite person.”

It was easy, though, to just know his answer was right. Not because of the fact that he could count the number of people he liked on one hand, or because she let him show up too late and stay too late and bother her until it was way too early. She was comfortable. He didn’t have to think about what he said next with her, or what was going to screw things up, or if she was going to leave him because everyone else had.

“Regardless of your lies,” she said, cutting him off before a single syllable could leave his lips, “you should sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m good.”

“Yeah, and I’m a superhero.”

“Are you?”

She didn’t laugh at that, just clicked her tongue again before suddenly, out of nowhere, pulling her hands from his grasp. She left him cold and stranded on her dilapidated couch and he just watched, seeing her rush out of the room before he could protest.

“I - is--” the words failed him, because his brain failed to catch up to the point where she left him and hadn’t yet provided a reason why. Diego stared at the point he last saw her go. “Is everything okay?”

THUMP. THUMP. CRASH.

“What -- are you okay?!”

“I--” two more thumps come crashing down, echoing into the tiny living space. “I’m good! Just -- stay there!”

“How the -- what the -- why can’t I come?!”

“--don’t get up! I’ll be right back!”

It took every single inch of him to remain seated. He yearned to rush over, pull out a knife and slice through whatever danger she must be facing -- it’s only her voice that stopped him. The reminder that ‘throwing knives in her apartment is absolutely off the table, no matter the circumstances’. She taught him patience, forced him to swallow the bitter pill and remain in his seat despite the fear careening through his bruised and battered frame.

When she returned, he could see the surprise on her face that she was still there. And even when his heart raced and threatened to pop in its shallow cavity, Diego smiled. Are you proud? he wonders to himself.

“Take off your harness,” she instructed. The bundle in her arms fell to the ground with a decided plop of fabrics; his eyes immediately caught on the brightly coloured comforter, and the mound of pillows she had stuffed into it. “Get comfy, you know, whatever--”

“--what are you doing?”

“Oh,” she said, like she was only just then realising the oddity of her actions. Her gaze flitted down to the blankets, then back up to him. “Well, I just...call it setting up camp.”

That didn’t answer anything at all. “What?”

“Take off the thing-y!”

He obliged, still waiting for an answer.

She rushed forward and pulled her blankets with her. Diego followed every motion. “We’re going to make you relax. It’s cold, and I know you’re tired, and you need to take a break at some point. The city’s gonna lose it’s Knife-Boy if you don’t take a little break.”

He huffed. His gaze caught on her own, sharp and amused. “What, we’re going to cuddle?”

“Don’t laugh, honey. That’s exactly what we’re gonna do!”

“I -- what?”

Her grin is bright and unwavering. Yellow, he mused to himself, just as bright as the first rays of sun or the polkadots on her pillow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never cuddled before, honey.”

“Uh…” Shit. Crap. “Well…”

“Holy shit, have you never cuddled with someone before?!”

He shrugged haplessly, too embarrassed (was this something to be embarrassed about?) to look at her again. “Never came up in life?”

That was somewhat true. Childhood rarely offered moments of comfort amidst the grueling battles he fought with, for, and against his siblings -- and when it did, it came in brief cheek kisses and pats on the back when his father wasn’t looking and his mother saw his face fall most. He never realised there was even more to intimacy of any kind until he left the Academy and he fucked up his first relationship, then fell into another with Patch. And Patch hadn’t craved physical touch like he secretly did, so he pushed down the desire to pull her tight to him and let her leave him cold and high. He never fought for touch because simply he didn’t believe he was deserving of such things. That he was too stiff and wild and red all over to be embraced like a kid.

Not until her, did Diego crave it most. But he fought it and settled for the little things. To avoid hurting her, too.

“Oh, honey…” her voice drips of yellow sympathy, sweet and soothing against his wounded heart. He let it sink into the cut. “C’mere.”

Diego didn’t fight her. He let her pull her in. He watched, almost out of his own body, as she tugs off his gloves and tosses away his domino mask, smiling softly back at him with the gentleness of a dove. Her arms draw an inviting embrace and he would be a fool to not fall into it, even when he felt stiff and awkward in her hold.

“Relax,” she whispered into his ear. She smiled slightly when he shivered, pulling back so she could rest against his shoulder. “Just...relax.”

“You know I got places to be tonight, right?”

“Not right now, you don’t.”

“I can’t just…”

The hand that wasn’t clinging around his shoulders pulled at his fingers; he smiled despite himself as they once again twisted around his, intertwining the slender digits. He fought the urge to kiss her knuckles.

“Lay back, and relax, honey.” Her head curled in, resting more on his upper chest then. He wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart. “Even badass losers like yourself, need their rest.”

“You don’t have to do this, for me.”

Her face shuffled closer, moving from his chest to rest just where his neck curved down to his torso. He might have imagined it but Diego thought he felt just the slightest brush of her lips against his skin -- soft enough so he could pass it off as nothing, but there enough for him to roll the moment back, over and over and over in his mind.

“Sure, I do,” she mumbled. His embrace pressed even closer. “Everyone needs a cuddle buddy.”

Diego snorted, half out of principle and half because he never thought he’d be in a position like this with anyone. Especially not someone he would trust so indefinitely and without question. Someone who called him honey, without questioning the sounds before they left her lips. He wondered if one could get addicted to a physical sensation, and if he would be the next victim, that he would become obsessed with the feeling of someone actually holding him.

“Just relax, honey.”

And in spite of all his worries and his mind, he obeyed his heart, and did.

A/N - I’m purposely choosing not to reread and reread this because I’ll hate it. I already sort of do, a tad, but...oh well. Not my best work, but I hope this is alright and you enjoy. :)

[lexigraph]

oh my god I found a draft of a Hawke/Varric thing I was working on (YES I have a pattern!! Maybe developers should stop making characters mine have extreme sexual tension and compatibility with ok.)

I don’t know if it will ever get any further than this, but the notes made me laugh and sad. Dumping it all after the cut.  Please note that YES I literally stopped writing mid-sentence six years ago and never continued. Why??

It all started when we returned from the Deep Roads.

Actually, that’s not exactly true. It started about half a year before then, or else the last time I’d seen Bianca. Nevermind that. This isn’t the story I never tell, it’s just one that I don’t.

In any case, after the Deep Roads is as good a time as any to start. If you want the real beginning, it’s in the book. The Champion of Kirkwall. Sure, there may be some missing lines, a few redacted conversations, but the foundation is there. Go ahead and read the first act, I’ll wait. If you haven’t read it by now, though… let’s just say you’re in the minority. After all, it is my best selling story.

After the Deep Roads, Hawke and I had a lot of reasons to spend time together. After all, there was business to conduct: treasure that needed the right buyers at the right price, hirelings to question about their involvement with the whole “abandonment thing”, letters to write to various and sundry members of the Guild, maps to update with an ancient thaig, for Andraste’s sake. 

There was also a lot of drinking to be done, or maybe it was just that a lot of drinking was done. It took the edge off of things… washed down any manner of dark thoughts. Or so we’d claim. The company helped, regardless. Hawke and her little band of misfits, myself included… we ruled the Hanged Man in those days.

After a while, well… things got a little more complicated and reasons turned to excuses.

---

Hawke drops herself into a chair at Varric’s long table with a considerable thunk of metal on wood; something ridiculous and heavy made of iron that she’s taken to wearing as ornamentation impacting less than delicately with his fine dwarven chairs. Varric sets the quill he’s been using in its holder, leaves the paper to dry. It’s just a bit about their encounter with the darkspawn. For his records; nothing serious, but he finds himself writing it as prose out of habit. It can wait.

He studies Hawke for a second. The rings under her eyes are especially bad today, the purple tinge of long nights visible even under the gold powder smeared across her eyelids and the smudged black of whatever substance she darkens her eyelashes with. She almost always looks like she slept in yesterday’s eye makeup, but lately each day has been progressively worse, and today is no exception. He swallows and tries to keep his tone light.

“No word?” Varric knows the answer, will probably know word is coming before Hawke does, but asks anyway. It isn’t entirely impossible that a messenger from the Wardens would slip past the notice of his carefully placed network of spies. Highly improbable, but not impossible.

She shakes her head and sighs, leaning forward to place both elbows against the edge of the table and duck her head as if to study the exquisitely carved wood. Not that the elbows bothered him; this table had, after all, seen a lot worse in it’s day, and Varric wasn’t exactly Mr. Manners. Hawke wasn’t normally an elbows on the table kind of gal, was all. Leaning back until she practically slid off the chair, sure. But hunched was bad. She’d been hunched a lot lately.

“Nothing at all. It’s been weeks, Varric. I just--”

“--want to know that your brother is alive. ‘The little snotrag’.” He finishes for her, managing (pretty badly) to keep back a chuckle. Hawke narrows her eyes but smiles, albeit a wan one.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re sick of hearing it.”

“Of course not.” He leans back in his chair, tipping so far that it’s balancing on two legs. “Though you could stand to get a little more creative with the insults. Carver was a little shit.” Shit. Hawke’s face falls again, fast, on ‘was’. Varric leans forward again so all four legs of his chair hit the ground, then pushes back and stands.

“Come on. I’ve got something for us to do.” That, at least, elicits a stronger smile. He’ll have to think of something good, and fast.

He mulls this over as Hawke waits for him to pull on his jacket and gloves, to strap Bianca on. He feels her eyes on him, and slows down just a little bit, making a show of adjusting the way his gloves lay and fiddling with his earrings. Varric is retying the sash around his middle (again) when he spies Hawke’s mouth pressing into a thin line. Time to stop dragging his heels.

“Alright, Hawke, let’s go.”

“If you’re sure you’re presentable, Tethras,” she rolls her eyes as she stands, but the smile has returned.

“Well excuse me. Some of us have a reputation to uphold. Actually, Hawke--” he gestures towards the door to his miniature suite, beckoning her through “--that’s going to include you very soon. You know how they are in High Town, after all.” His tone is light as a feather, threatening a chuckle.

Hawke shrugs her way out of the room, and he follows, then turns to pull the door shut. Not that locking it means a hell of a lot -- everyone basically already knows not to bother Varric’s things. It still makes him feel better.

“It might. If my share is what you said, I should be able to get the mansion.” A small throaty laugh escapes her. Varric fumbles with the key a moment, then shakes his head:

“And then some. Don’t worry, it’s not too difficult to line up buyers for ancient dwarven chamberpots.”

She laughs again as he turns around to find she’s still facing him. “I may just keep one. I’ll think of Bartrand every time I sh--” The expletive is drowned by the laughter that bursts out from deep in Varric’s body. Maker, it feels good to laugh like that.

“Alright, alright, I get the picture, you don’t have to get gross. Let’s go already.” He gestures again, toward the stairs. Hawke’s mouth twitches in a mischievous smile, but she turns on her heel and  That’s where I stopped?? And then, a rare thing, an OUTLINE:

--- Months before learning Carver survived ---

Scene one: Two weeks after returning from the Deep Roads. Hawke and Varric go to the Black Emporium (pretend it is first time) to try and sell off some of the rarer goods. Run into Anders on the way, drag him along (hint at annoyance, very light).

Something something plot hook idek. Bandits? Someone sniffing about the manor trying to buy it first? Figger it out.

Small amount of time skip, nighttime scene, everyone loves fucking Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man scenes lets do this. Flirting, but table-wide. Some stupid observation from Varric about attention from Hawke being great or whatever blah blah blah. Maybe like a shoulder touch ho ho ho gettin’ racy. But point is Hawke is manic, flirtatious and drowning her anxiety, pretending to be happy about a good sale, whatever.

Hawke like blind drunk, Isabela already took someone to her room, everyone else has wandered off, SUPER PLANTONIC FLUFFY tucking her into his bed and setting up to a sleepness night writing just make sure it hurts a little how much Varric is taking care of her.

Morning afterwards maybe a fight OH NO about Carver?? oh no, Marie feeling stupid and hungover and sad and Varric sticking his foot in his mouth for once trying to be reassuring. You tits.

Break for action about whatever DUMB PLOT is happening, gives a chance for building tension because they’re being weird ha ha TIME TO BE WEIRD. Other people. Resist using Isabela to deliver tired lines about how they should shut up and kiss. Resist it. But whatever whole point is tension. Do not break the tension. Laughter must be strained.

Who loves shirty Hawke? Everyone. Anyway moving things along lets have enough time pass now for Carver to be Survive! Hooray? And so real celebration, everyone knows good news is an even better excuse to drink than avoiding problems.

Speaking of avoiding problems maybe like now is when Marie is still being shirty and Varric is like also shirty and so they have a “private” conversation at the bar (Varric, getting his own drinks? Must be serious) and now, now we’ll put cracks in that tension eggshell, there’s a baby bird inside ok it needs to breathe.

Varric is a grownup and Hawke is pretending. Let’s make more touching happen and confusion. 

???

[whattodowithkpop]

Good Cops (Donghun)

Title: Good Cops

Pairing: Donghun x Reader

Genre: Slight Romance

Word Count: 3.5K Words

Writer: Kpopmadness

As the Monday train rolls down the tracks I keep my eyes out the window. Blocking out the busy noise of Korea that morning. I let out a soft sigh and feel slightly drowsy. My normal time for getting up for work to be down at the station was 5 AM sharp.

Being a cop in Korea wasn't easy, but it was what i loved doing. I had worked hard to be in the position i was in and to get the jobs i did on the force. But even though i loved my job, i had learned six months ago that this job comes at a price sometimes. I press my palms into my eyes, willing the images of blood staining my hands away from my mind. I tried to force my mind to focus on something else. Like the fact that i was getting a new partner today.

I willed a smile onto my face. I had put in an application form for a K9 Unit about two months ago. Demands for the well trained dogs was high. So i knew i would be waiting awhile. But last night before heading home my chief had said my new partner was coming in today.

The train comes to a stop and i stand up to leave. From the train i had to walk a few blocks to reach the station, which i didn't mind. The fall air was cool and refreshing as i made my way to the station. The walk and the air combined gave my mind a sense of clarity as excitement filled me for the days events.

The station was quiet once i made my way inside. Everyone was still waking up or trying to get dressed for the day. I enjoyed the silence while it lasted while i went to my locker and changed into my navy blue uniform.

I had just finished pulling my hair into a tight bun when I hear a soft tap at the locker room door,

“Come in.” I call, putting my old clothes into my duffle bag for later.

The chief of the station pokes his head into the locker room. He’s a middle aged man with black hair and thick rimmed classes. His lanky body is covered by the same navy blue uniform all of us wore, except the lines in his face showed the stress of serving on the force for many years.

“Your partner is here, Sargent.” He tells me, a warm smile on his face.

A wide smile blooms on my face and I quickly shut my locker door. “Really?” I ask, my voice a little too high pitched and excited.

The chief laughs and opens the door wider for me to get through, “Come see for yourself, kid.”

I eagerly follow him out the door almost bouncing up and down with excitement. I secretly hope the K9 is either a German shepherd or a pit bull, but at this point I’ll be happy with any K9-Unit.

The chief opens the door to his office and I quickly scan the room. A man with dark hair and big brown eyes stares back at me with a wide smile on his face. I quickly realize I won’t be getting a dog after all.

“Hi, I’m Lee Donghun.” The man says excitedly, his head bowing low before stretching out his hand for me to shake.

My eyes dart to my chief and then back to the man with his hand out toward me. I quickly take the chief by the wrist and pull him outside the office, shutting the door behind us. Leaving Donghun alone feeling confused.

“That is not a dog.” I snap, more than a little annoyed.

The chief chuckled softly, “I know.”

“Chief, I told you I didn’t want another partner. Not like that.” I complain.

“I know.” He says. “But you’re one of the best female Sargent’s here. And you can’t avoid having a real partner forever. Besides, he’s young and a rookie. You would make a good teacher.”

I let out a groan and hide my face in my hands. Frustrated that this was even happening. But deep down, I felt like I knew it was going to happen one day.

“Give him two weeks, kid.” The chief says gently, “See if you like him or not. If not, I’ll get you your K9 and he’ll move to another partner. Then we’ll all be happy.”

I sigh and give a slow nod. The chief smiles broadly, clearly happy with himself. I open the door to his office again, Donghun still stands in the same place he was moments ago picking at a loose strand on his pants nervously.

“Come on,” I say, motioning with my head for him to follow.

He smiles widely and picks up his jacket as he follows me outside.

~~~~

I rest my head against the headrest as me and my new partner drive down the main road. I glance over at him. He happily sits looking out the window excitedly. His dark hair shining in the sunlight.

I turn my eyes back to the road and try to push my annoyance down. It was only for two weeks. Surely i could handle that.

I turn the car into an old grocery store parking lot and turn the car off so we could clock people's speed. I sit back in the seat and watch the cars pass, my eyes feeling  heavy.

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity.” Donghun says sweetly. His dark eyes meeting mine.

I force a smile onto my face and answer, "You're welcome. I think you'll catch onto the routine pretty fast."

Donghun sits back in his chair and sighs, "I'm the new guy so no one really knows what to expect of me."

He sobers, however, and adds, "I'm sorry. If i'm not what you expected. Or maybe even wanted."

That makes me feel bad. So i turn to him and answer, "I was in a bad mood this morning. I just thought something different was coming my way today. But i know how it feels to be a rookie. Just listen to what i tell you and i think me and you will get along  great."

Donghun smiles widely at me. Making butterflies burst in my stomach, making me blush.

"I look forward to learning from you."  He says, his dark eyes sparkling.

~~~~~~

1 Month later;

"Donghun!" I yell, running down the street, chasing a runaway prisoner down the busy street of Korea. My lungs burning from how fast i have to run to keep up with the criminal. Who is now frantically throwing random things onto the street to try to stop me from following.

"Donghun, where are you?" I yell again into my walki-talki clipped against my chest.  Static answers me and i let out a growl.

I feel it start to get harder to keep up with the runaway, my legs now starting to cramp up. The prisoner takes a turn onto the busy street and maneuvers over several cars, which all honk angrily at him as he tries desperately to escape. He takes a turn onto one street when, suddenly, a black car swerves in front of him, blocking his path. The cars sudden appearance makes the man slam against the hood of the car before falling down hard against the pavement.

"Don't move." Donghun orders, pulling his gun from its holster. The man lays motionless on the ground, his hands up.

Donghun jerks him up by the collar before pushing him up against the car and putting handcuffs on him. Once the prisoner is locked securely inside the car I sit down on the pavement and lean my back against the cop car. Sweat rolls down my neck as i try to catch my breath. I stretch out my tired legs, exhausted from having chased the guy on foot for nearly two miles.

"What happened to you?" Donghun asks teasingly, handing me a bottled water.

I take it from him but still manage to meet his eyes to glare at him. "I was chasing that guy down while you were taking your sweet time." I say sourly.

Donghun lets out a sigh before defending, "I  wasn't about to chase the guy on foot like you did. I got in the car and decided to cut him off."

"You're supposed to stay close to me!" I say a little too loudly. "Partners stick together."

Donghun looks down at the ground, looking a little hurt. But he doesn't argue, he simply nods his head in understanding. Knowing better than to argue.

I stare at him for a moment before sighing and shaking my head. "That was good driving though.”  I admit.

And I realized it wasn't all Donghuns fault. Since I decided to keep him as my partner he had learned from me, but not all my good habits. He picked up the bit of recklessness i possessed. Plus, his fear of very little to almost nothing didn't help much. But really, since that first day we had been assigned to work together he had been a really good partner. And he had grown on me. Hence the reason he stayed.

Donghun smirks at me, "It was good, wasn't it?" He says proudly.

I roll my eyes at him and take his hand that was extended to me as i stand up.

"It wasn't half bad." I say, my body temperature feeling much cooler.

"For a rookie." I add with a smile.

Donghun narrows his eyes at me as he makes his way back to the drivers side. We start to climb in when i hear a small voice say behind me.

"Excuse me,"

I spin around to see a little girl, who couldn't have been more than five years old, looking up at me with big blue eyes.

"Hi sweetie!" I say cheerfully, bending down to her level.

The little girl looks behind her at her mother shyly before saying in a hushed voice,

"I love your hair."

I hadn't even realized my hair had fallen out of its tight bun. It cascaded down my back now in thick dark locks almost touching my waist.

I pull my hair over one shoulder, making the little girl reach out and touch it gently,

"You're like a princess." She says, her smile wide showing two teeth missing.

I laugh lightly, "I'm too sweaty to be a princess. But you look more like one with your cute headband." I say, gently touching her sparkly cat eared headband.

The little girl grins at me before removing the headband from her head and placing it gently on my head.

"Now you're a princess." She beams at me before skipping her way back to her mother.

I smile as she leaves and stand up, gently touching the small headband on my head.

"A princess, huh?" Donghun says, staring at me from the other side of the car.

I remove the headband from my head and start pulling my hair up again as i glare at him, "You have something smart to say?"

Donghun smirks at me, "Princess... It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Only I'm not, nor have i ever been, a princess." I shoot back.

"Maybe not." Donghun says, "But it does seem to work for you somehow. It would make a good pet name."

I let out a laugh as I open the car door and say jokingly, "Yeah. Maybe we should start calling each other that now. You call me princess and i can call you oppa or daddy."

The smile on Donghun's face vanishes and his cheeks turn a dark red before he clears his throat and gets in the car, slamming the door.

I feel puzzled as i sit in the seat next to him and buckle up. He doesn't meet my eyes, or speak to me as we head back to the station.

~~~~~~

2 Months Later;

"No." I say firmly, taking another sip of my hot coffee.

"Oh come on, princess." Donghun whines.

"Donghun," I warn, holding a hand up to stop him from talking more. "I told you not to call me that, I've been telling you for two months now."

Donghun flashes me a smile across the dark car before saying, "Too late now. I like it too much to give it up."

I let a laugh break through my lips, "What do you mean you 'like it'?" I ask, "I'm your superior and this is technically insubordination for not listening to me."

Donghun lets his head rest against the headboard behind him as he lets out a deep laugh. His breath could be seen leaving his mouth in a thick white cloud from how cold it was outside. The clock on the dash read 1:30 A.M and we were parked by an abandoned apartment complex pulling a night shift clocking speeds.

I readjust the hood of my sweatshirt on my head to block out the cold as i shoot back, "I am not playing truth or dare with you on duty, Donghun."

Donghun lets out a heavy sigh and slams his head against the headrest again in protest. "We have nothing else to do to pass the time.”

I rub my tired eyes and growl, knowing he wasn't completely wrong but i didn't want to admit it.

"Please princess..." Donghun whines in a low voice, his big brown eyes taking on a wounded puppy dog look.

"Fine." I breathe out, annoyed.

Donghun sits up excitedly and sets his coffee cup down in its coffee holder. "Truth or dare?"

I take a sip of my coffee and keep my eyes fixed on the road watching for cars as i answer, "Truth."

"Do you like being called princess?" Donghun asks, a dark grin on his face.

I reach over and slap him across the chest, laughing, "That is not a good first question, Lee Donghun!”

Donghun laughs with me as he rubs his chest where i hit him, "You said we could play this game and the rule is we can ask whatever we want. I wanted to ask that question. Now answer me."

I let out a sigh and hide my face in my hands. A  blush creeping onto my face. I was thankfully that it was dark outside.

"Yes."  I mumble against my hands. Defeated.

"I'm sorry, what? What did you say?" Donghun asks, leaning in closer to me as if he couldn't hear me.

I flick his forehead making him lean back in his chair, "You heard me, you brat." I say through a laugh, my face now burning.

Donghun smirks at me and holds my gaze, "Sensitive much, Princess?"

This makes me blush harder so i sit back in my seat and change the subject. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Donghun answers. I can hear in his voice that he’s proud of himself for making me flustered.

"Take a big sip of your coffee without blowing on it and burn your tongue as punishment for what you said." I say jokingly, making Donghun laugh. But I'm still shocked when he does it and manages to not spit all over the car.

We go back and forth like this for some time until the clock reads 3:30 A.M and we sit there half asleep, our coffee's long gone.

"Truth or dare?" Donghun asks through a yawn.

"Truth." I answer, rubbing my eyes. Exhausted.

"Do you prefer cats or dogs?"

"Dogs."  I answer, not hesitating.

Donghun nods, "I figured. I have a cat."

"You seem like a cat person." I say, pulling my sweatshirt closer to my neck.

"She's a special kind of cat." Dongun says, "Hae is a dwarf cat."

I let out a gasp, my excitement coming through my voice a little too much. "She stays little forever?"

Donghun lets out a chuckle at my excitement, "Yes, she does." He meets my eyes as he continues, "You should meet her sometime."

I can't help but smile at Donghun, somehow feeling my night was made by him saying i could meet little Hae. Donghun smiles back at me and holds my gaze for a little too long, making me nervous until i look away and clear my throat.

We lapse into silence for awhile, staring at the quiet road. I feel half asleep when Donghun's voice cuts through my head.

"Truth or dare?" He says softly.

"Truth." I answer, yawning against my sleeve.

"What happened to your first partner?'

I freeze, wondering if i heard him right. Half of me hopes i heard him very wrong.

"I won't force you to tell me." Donghun adds quickly. "But since we've been partners for awhile i think it only fair i know."

I fiddle with my sleeves, knowing he's right. But i still felt hesitant to tell him. Even though he had asked me this question before and i refused to tell him. The car is silent for awhile. My minds swims as it tries to find words.

"When i first joined the force," I begin, making Donghun face me. "I didn't have a partner. I was really new so i was trained by others and handled odd jobs around the station. Then after a year, they let me have a partner. His name was Sanghoon. He was just a kid. Spry, goofy, late to almost all of our shifts. But incredibly smart and loving. He was like a little brother to me."

I pause a moment, trying not to tear up. Donghun sits patiently beside me.

"Then one day, me and Sanghoon got called to a bomb threat. Our job was just to talk the terrorist down and wait for the bomb squad to come in. The guy pulled a gun out and was going to start shooting and before he could Sanghoon tackled him to the ground and took the gun away. But the terrorist managed to get his gun back and get away from Sanghoon. And he shot him."

I take a shaky breath and focus on holding back tears. I don't even notice that Donghun had laced his fingers through mine. "I held his head and tried to stop the bleeding. His eyes were so full of tears from fear. But at the same time, he was so brave. He slipped into unconsciousness and went into shock and was taken to a hospital. But he was so unstable even after surgery that the family decided to take him off life support. He died five days later."

I feel Donghun slide a finger down my cheek, wiping a tear away as he says softly, "I’m sorry."

I focus back on the road and don't answer him. Trying to shut off the emotions that had been kept inside for too long.

Donghun takes my face in his hands, making me meet his eyes. My body tenses under his touch and i feel my cheeks grow hot upon realizing how close his face was to mine.

"That wasn't your fault.” Donghun says more firmly, "It was an accident. Losing someone never makes you a bad person. You hear me?"

I nod my head. Surprised by the firmness in his voice but at the same time grateful to hear those words from someone who tried to understand me.

Donghun's hands stay on my face, keeping me pinned there. I feel his thumb rub back and forth against my cheek, making me blush harder.

I stare at him, not entirely sure what to do. My body tense and rigid against his touch. Donghun's gaze lingers over my eyes and then down to my mouth, making a shiver go down my spine. But I'm still surprised when his nose brushes against mine gently before closing the gap and meeting my lips.

I suck in a breath and keep my eyes open for a second before letting them close as his lips move against mine, His hand moves from my cheek to the back of my neck pulling me closer. I let my hands rest against his chest as i enjoy the contrast between the cold night and his lips.

Donghun lets out a sigh as my tongue meets his and my fingers find his soft hair. I let out a gasp when he pulls me from my seat in the drivers spot and onto his lap and pulls my hair out of its ponytail before letting his fingers entangle in it as he starts kissing down my neck. His warm breath fanning across my cold skin.

I shiver but manage to get out between breaths, "Donghun, we're still on duty." I point out.

Donghun bites my jawline making me groan before he says. "It's 4 A.M, which means our shift ended. Which means, you can't escape, princess."

Donghun kisses my lips again before adding, "But something tells me you aren't going to try to leave."

I bite his lower lip before responding, "I'm still your superior."

Donghun smirks and rests his head against the headrest, making me run one of my nails down his neck until he lets out a sharp breath. "Just tell me where to bite then.”

MAIN MASTERLIST

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

 Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt.  Tony is working out of his.

 Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

 “I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

 “Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

 They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

 Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

 Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

 Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

 Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

 Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

 Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

 What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

 Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

 “You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

 Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

 “So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

 Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

 Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

 As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

 “Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

 Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

 “You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

 “Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

 Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

 By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

 Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

 Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

  “Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

 “Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

 “Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

 They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

 “Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

 “You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

 When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

 Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc.  When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

 “How did you…?”

 “You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

 Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

 “Well, I’d like to meet him.”

 +++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

 “Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

 A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

 She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

 “That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

 The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

 “I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

 Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

 “Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

 “They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

 Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

 “Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

 The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

 “You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

 “Completely.”

 “Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

 ++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

  Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

[inforapound]

Emboîté Part 3

A/N - Part 3 of @youbloodymadgenius writing celebration fic. Than you so much for your likes and comments. The saucy Part 4 will be up tonight. 

Pairing – Ivar and Sarah     (Aethelswith)

Words – 3,500 approx

Series Warning – explicit smut, dance industry inaccuracies, fluffy Ivar, possessive Ivar, semi-slow burn, ‘baby’ used as a term of endearment.

Having lived my life in leotards, leggings, and costumes with little to them, I rarely thought twice about how much of my body was on display. Walking toward me, Ivar looked everywhere but at the short, soft pink dress and sheer leggings, I had chosen for the occasion. Without arrogance or his usual stiff expression, he looked almost shy. It was so adorable it hurt and in that moment, I wished I knew him well enough to tease.

Arriving precisely one hour after my distress call, he came through the doors dressed ‘down’ in a grey button-up shirt and expensive-looking jeans carrying not one but two camera bags, strapped across his chest. It was clear, Ivar Lothbrok did not mess around.

“Hi,” I smiled pleased to be on my own turf.

“Hi, you look,” his bright eyes and neutral face did a quick sweep of my front, “…. ready.”

Not uncomfortable, more focussed, he listened while unpacking his gear, placing it onto a long wooden table pushed against the wall.

“We were all asked to contribute something for the silent auction on the 23rd and Derek, my friend, he’s professional photographer,” Ivar’s eyes narrowed, listening to me rattle on, “was set to take two photos of me. One dancing and one wearing a gown provided by Caffrey’s, our sponsor, who provide all our evening wear. Anyway... the photos will be blown up and framed and put out for the auction.”

“You want mid-motion shots or still poses?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“I was going to leave that to…”

“Derek?” he asked, glancing up from the canon in his hand, his eyes skipping between each of mine.

“Yeah.”

“Got it.” Dropping his eyes back down to his camera, he flicked various buttons, a digital screen lighting up on the back.

“What do you think I should do?”

Looking up, he said nothing, his mind obviously working it through.

“Let's get some test shots for light and then just do your thing. Forget, I’m here.” With a quick jerk of his head, he indicated he was set.

Moving to my invisible mark on the floor, he took what felt like eight or ten shots of me standing in the center of the room in first position. Adjusting dials and playing with his zoom, he looked through the lens, his other eye squeezing closed, the shutter firing in a rush of clicks. Using a different black cane than the night of the auction, he hooked it on the inside of his elbow anytime he stood in one place. It seemed like an extension of his body, moving it with ease and I knew then his dramatic limp was not an injury but a condition.

It was time. Walking back to the table, I pressed the player, returning to my spot at the center of the wooden floor. The music sounded and I began. Swiveling, I rose up onto pointe, lifting and swinging my right leg in a broad sweep, shoulder height, before dropping and dramatically walking forward with rushed steps. I chose to dance my favourite part of the ballet Coppelia. Leaping high, my extended legs and pointed toes cut and curved through the air. For my size, I had always excelled at grand jetés and knew they often made for an impressive photograph.

My muscles and tendons, calloused feet and bones, blood and soul knew these steps so automatically, so ingrained that my mind could suspend and almost observe. There were few times in life, one could be wholly present, and dancing provided those moments for me. No concerns or past, no fear or questions, no right or wrong, good or bad, just movement. My body simply called forward into this graceful fluidity that felt as natural as taking a breath. So, this piece seemed fitting for such a sensation as the story was about a man who created a dancing doll, void of a mind, who moved so remarkably she floated like some beautiful celestial being. He became obsessed and controlling with her the more people fell in love with her dancing. I felt like a doll twirling and leaping, prancing with delicate steps, void of thoughts, responding only to the pull of the enchanting music.

The last steps were upon me and I rose onto point, extending my other leg vertical to my body, my toes reaching up toward the ceiling. Dropping forward, into a grand révérence, I held allowing the music to come to its end. 

Silence.

Pulling myself up from a deep bow, I turned to look at Ivar. Lowering his camera, our eyes met. He had this confronted look and I could only assume he wasn’t sure what to say. The force of his stare and then a quick flutter of his eyelashes betrayed him though. He was impressed.

Exhaling, I relaxed my shoulders, resting my hands on my hips as I caught my breath.

Strange moments had been happening since I first saw him in that ballroom, and this was no exception. Neither of us seemed to know what to say, and I felt this sense of impatience, wishing I knew him already. Wanting, somehow, to fast forward through this polite unfamiliarity to a place where we talk without feeling guarded.  

“Okay?” I lifted my chin.

“Yeah,” he answered, lowering his cane to the floor, stepping back to his equipment on the table. Glancing back, “More than okay,” he said, turning again to his gear.

Moving toward him, I grabbed my water bottle off the table and took a long drink.

“Thanks...for this. I would have felt like a ninny with nothing to contribute.”

“Ninny?”

“Yeah,” I smiled looking down at the floor, running my hand, out of habit up the back of my hair to my tight bun.

“Pickle, ninny, do they teach these phrases in Canada?”

“I don’t know,” I laughed, subtly shaking my head, pleased to see his broad smile and shining eyes. “Are you okay waiting while I change and clean up for the dress shots? I might be half an hour or so.”

“You want to do those here?”

“I guess. They were going to be done in Derek’s studio but he’s home sick. I’d rather be lit on fire than have you see my place so, yeah, here.” Looking around the room, I could still feel his eyes, watching me. “I could stand by the window or by the grand piano. Whatever you want. You’re taking the photos.”

Turning from the waist, he inspected the large room with its high ceilings and antique crown moldings, white walls and patinaed oak floors. It was a bright beautiful space.

“So?” he squinted one eye and I could tell he had a plan, “Whatever I want?”

“You are the photographer,” I nodded.

“Mine then.”

The playfulness in his smile and straight white teeth were not helping me catch my breath.

“Your what?”

“My place. My apartment. It has large east-facing windows. The light will be perfect for the next couple of hours. Once the sun sets, the sky will be backlit over the city. You will look…” he nodded, raising his brows but quickly glanced down to the camera he held like a security blanket. “It will work.” Looking back up, his eyes searched mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

---

I failed horrendously at keeping causal when walking in behind him, carrying my old duffle and garment bags. My steps slowed to a stop as I entered the contemporary, open concept living room, dining room and kitchen, all with a backdrop of massive steel and glass windows.

“This is amazing,” I said looking up at the high ceilings that opened further to a large loft on a second level. Smooth cement pillars stood in the corner of the floor-to-ceiling windows and ran up through the high, soaring ceilings. Like a nerd, I bent down and ran the pads of my fingers across the glassy black floors. “What is this?”

“Polished concrete,” he answered as he flipped through letters that had been pushed through a mail slot in his door. His own mail slot.

My mother’s crudely lined lips and spiteful words came to mind, when you date a man with money, you bloody well earn every cent. I sighed, shaking off her poison knowing that she in some perverse way hoped I would end up on my back, in some director’s office, working to stay relevant. My poor, bitter mother.

Walking to the dining room, I knew immediately it was not a table to place my shitty old sac on. Draping my dress bag over the back of a tall dining room chair, I dropped the duffle bag to the floor.

Turning around, I found Ivar watching me, leaning against the eating bar that separated his dining room and kitchen. There was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and I wondered if he pretended not to know how good looking he was. Or, perhaps he was indifferent to the opinions of others. That seemed more likely.

“Come,” he walked over, grabbing my garment bag and led me back toward the entrance and into a large bathroom, in which every surface was the same type of white stone. Hooking the hanger on the glass shower door, he turned to me, glancing around the bathroom as if to check that everything was in its place.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, playing with his cane, picking it up and bouncing its rubber base on the tile floor.

Smiling, I shook my head, internally dying at the image of him standing behind me with a flat iron.

“Okay, I’ll be out there.”

---

Stepping out of the washroom, my hair, by some fluke was skillfully styled down and smoothed out with a gentle wave, and my smoky eyes and nude lipstick were masterfully applied, just as Derek and I had practiced. I even felt confident in my spectacular silver heals. Peering down my front, I ran my hands over my hips, smoothing the grey shimmering satin, loving how the draped silky material felt against the skin of my, shaved that morning, legs.

“That was fa..” Turning around, his words caught in his throat. Closing his mouth, his eyes blatantly scoured the length of my body, his expression not filtering a thing.  

I had been a performer all my life but could not remember a single person ever looking at me with that kind of awe.

Glancing down again, I adjusted the seams on the inside of the long sleeves, realizing how much I had wanted him to react this way.

Clearing his throat, he didn’t smile but his body settled as if easing into the reason I was there.

“Okay,” he inhaled loud enough for me to hear and lifted his hand toward the living room. “Let’s start with you in front of the corner window. Maybe even have you lean against the column. God, it’s perfect.” His eyes skipped back down my body. “The silver of your dress with the sky behind.” Pausing, his face softened. “That dress.” His eyes flashed wide and he shook his head with a half-grin.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t wear that on Saturday.” Taking the lead, he walked toward the living room, stopping behind a leather armchair. “I would have doubled my bid.”

“I’ll remember that,” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as I passed him, heading toward the window. A surge of excitement raced through me knowing that he was seconds away from seeing my exposed skin in the backless dress, cut down to just above my bottom.

“Derek and I picked it out together. So many at Caffrey’s looked like ice capade costumes. I am not a frilly person and he liked the clean lines of it.”

Moving past his low-slung furniture and glass coffee table, I walked toward the corner windows, passing a stunning black ornate fireplace, feeling his eyes burning up and down my spine. Biting my bottom lip to conceal my smile, I wished I could see his face.

“Stop!” he called and I froze, my hands shooting up in front of me, thinking I shouldn’t have walked across his fancy rug with heels on. Slowly looking over to him, he stood beside the armchair, camera lifted, staring at me over the viewfinder.

“Right there. Do not move. Keep looking at me like that.”

Taking his direction, I stayed in place. The clicking of the camera started with a flurry.

With a pleased grunt, he lowered the camera and pressed a button to flip through the images. “God, this is perfect. That is the shot! That is the mother-fucking shot! You look,” lifting his excited face, his bright eyes faltered seeing me again. “You look… perfect.”

“Wow, okay. Thank you.” Shifting my heals, I turned to face him. “That was… fast.”

His attention was already back to the photos on his screen.  

Stepping carefully across the dark, likely hand made rug, I headed back, en route to the bathroom.

“Don’t go,” he blurted causing me to snap my head over at him. “Not yet,” his tone was gentle. His puppy eyes were staring right into mine and I had no doubt this man got anything and everything he wanted in life. “Let’s take more. Just for fun. Hmm?” Bobbing his head, his expression turned playful.  

Jesus, yes.

Like the good girl that I am, I took a seat on the built-in concrete bench that ran the length of the wall of windows.

Coming out of the kitchen, Ivar’s limp was pronounced, in fact, it looked painful without his cane, as he moved toward me carrying a glass of wine in each hand. Stopping myself from jumping to help, I waited, accepting the glass with a smile when he handed it to me. It tasted lovely and cold and was in the most elegant wine glass...of course.

And did we play…. Ivar stepped into his role as photographer, directing me on position, placement, even how to rest my hands, gently tucking my hair behind my ear and tilting my chin just as he wanted. His fingers lingering longer and longer each time they touched my body or hair or the fabric of my dress. The air felt thick when he was close causing my skin to warm and I felt a wave of disappointment whenever he stepped back. I was his muse, his doll and it was incredibly arousing.

The more photos he took, the more I allowed my inhibitions to unravel and it only fueled Ivar to become more expressive, excited even.

“Okay. Now, I’ll have you come to the couch and just do what feels natural. The glass behind with the colours in the sky, ughh,” he grunted, “amazing.”

Turning his attention back to the eating bar, he took a sip of his wine, scrolling through the last handful of shots. With his back turned, I used it as an opportunity to situate myself. Rolling from my seated position on the black leather sofa, I lay down on my tummy, propping myself up on my elbows, letting my heels drop to the carpet.

Spinning to face me, his eyes widened with surprise but he quickly recovered, pressing his lips together and returning to his role. He could not lift his eyes from me though. Could barely blink. Peering up at him from over my shoulder, his gaze dragged down the length of my bare back, holding on the round swell of my behind, naturally arching toward him. The dim, early evening light, made his normally brilliant eyes appear a deep blue. His entire expression seemed darker somehow as if laying below him, taking his every direction drew him into some wicked part of his mind. I had never felt this sensual before and didn’t want the feeling to fade or for him to stop staring at me like I was the most remarkable thing he had ever seen.

Lowering to sit on the glass coffee table, he lifted his camera once again, his lens sweeping up my form, focussing straight in on my face. Looking directly into the lens, I wondered if my expression was as yearning and wonton as I felt. The air had definitely shifted, and perhaps the glimmer or suggestion in my heavy-lidded eyes gave away my desire. Either he knew the contents of my mind, and how my body was responding or he felt the same as the intensity in his gaze rapidly grew. Faint grunts of approval, running his tongue over his lips, even outright murmuring how incredible and beautiful I looked, swearing under his breath.

I had to consciously control my breathing. The force of his stare, peering over his camera, sped my heart. How could he be doing this to me? It felt crazy knowing that I had only just met him but would not have stopped him from crawling over me, sinking down against my back and grinding into ass. Just the thought made me nearly rock my pelvis against the leather couch, needy for pressure on the tingling between my legs.

“You are so perfect, Sarah,” he whispered, and it occurred to me how often he used my name. I had never liked my name but somehow, the way it slipped from his tongue always with an exhale, it sounded anything but plain.

Two more clicks, three, the camera felt like the only barrier between us now as he slid closer to me, up the table. The image of his smooth, plush lips pressed to mine flashed through my mind and I exhaled loud enough for him to hear.

“Sarah,” he whispered again, my eyes still fixed on the lens of his camera as if hypnotized.

Click. Beep, beep, beep.

“For fuck sakes,” he snarled loudly, lowering his camera. “Don’t move. Don’t move.” Pushing himself up, he rushed, teetering as he walked without his cane, leaning on the back of the furniture to the bar. “Let me just change the battery and we’ll keep going.” Glancing back quickly as if to make sure I was still there, “God, have I really taken over a hundred photos!” he laughed sharply, dropping his head back. He was giddy.

“Ivar?” I pushed up on the couch to sit, combing my fingers through my tousled hair, attempting to blink off the spell I felt under. I needed to move, get some air before… well, I wasn’t sure what, but something was going to happen if I stayed splayed out like a dog in heat. I barely knew him!

Turning back to me, frustration flashed through his features but he stopped and looked at me. No, scrutinized, me.

“Ivar, I think I need to...”

“Who is Derek?” he cut me off, the question catching me by surprise.

“The photographer I told you about.” Not reacting, he stood waiting for me to continue. “Actually, he was one of the first people I met when I moved here. He is the photographer for the theatre, or I should say the theatre is one of his clients. He took my headshots for the company and we became close. It was nice as I was new to the city. Didn’t know anyone. Still don’t really.”

“So, it is more than professional between you?” he narrowed his eyes as if confused by something I said.

My stomach fluttered and I suddenly felt odd sitting across the room from him. “Yes,” I replied realizing that clarified nothing.

His eyes flashed again and he glanced down at his camera. I could see the steeliness in his gaze when he looked back up. “So, he dates the new ballerinas?” 

Ignoring the insinuation, I answered, “He is my close friend and one who is far more interested in… ballerinos.” My brows spiked high on my forehead emphasizing my meaning.

Tilting his head to one side, he squinted further, before, “Oh!”

Locking eyes again, we looked at each other longer than what felt appropriate and I wondered if we would have reconnected if Derek hadn’t serendipitously fallen ill. Sooner than later, my instincts told me.

“I am going to go and change,” I finally said, needing to say something.

Rising from the couch, I picked my heals up off the rug and headed toward the hall for the bathroom. The room had become shadowy and I stared at the floor as I walked, gasping when he grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him, my hair flying out of place.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, letting go of my arm. We were standing close. “Don’t change,” his voice was just above a whisper. “Let’s not waste that dress.” His eyes dropped, sweeping across my chest. “Can I take you back to Piccolo’s for supper?”

“Twice in one week?” I smiled softly, inwardly thrilled by how he was looking at me.

Shrugging, his eyes watched my mouth, waiting for me to answer.

Giggling, a little too loudly, two thoughts occurred, I really did need to eat after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach and I was no where near ready to say goodbye. Lifting my chin, my smile widened, “We are creatures of habit, are we not?”

@youbloodymadgenius​​​​​​​ @naaladareia​​​​​​​ @whenimaunicorn​​​​​​​ @lol-haha-joke​​​​​​​ @ceridwenofwales​​​​​​​  @jaydelesley4​​​​​​​  @sweeneythots​​​​​​​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​​​​​​​ @fangirl-nonsense​​​​​​​ @thiahilmarsdottir​​​​​​​ @redama​​​​​​​ @mdredwine​​​​​​​ @didiintheblog​​​​​​​ @yourpurplequeen​​​​​​​ @londongal2810​​​​​​​ @fields-and-fields-of-poppies​​​​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​​​​ @hexqueensupreme​​​​​​​ @silly-bullshit-collector​​​​​​​ @littlecarolina94​​​​​​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​​​​​​  @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz​​​​​ @waiting4inspiration​​​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @heavenly1927​​ @squirrelacorngliterfarts​ @jzr201​ @hecohansen31​

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire II | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

as requested, here’s part two to Grazing the Fire! part one can be found >here<! hope you guys enjoy it!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language

For a time, you and Nathan did not interact again. He stopped seeing you everywhere he went, and in turn you stopped fearing him cornering you in a restaurant again. Sometimes you’d see the back of his head in the hallway, and other times you’d manage a quick glimpse at his face. It was always so pensive, so strained. You’ll get wrinkles, you joked silently. You didn’t speak to him again but for the first time you didn’t hate him. Sure, you hated the fact that you lied to an actual security guard in order to cover his ass, but you realized you didn’t hate him.

At first you were relieved to not have to converse with him anymore. He was a ticking time bomb and everyone knew it, and you’d experienced firsthand how unpredictable he could be. You even managed to wrangle up your own friend group, a few girls and boys who you finally started to come out of your shell with. Getting accustomed to Blackwell wasn’t easy, and Nathan had made it so much harder, but as the weeks grew on you began to fit in.

It seemed like you were having everything you wanted, that being a friend group, a-little-better-than-average grades, and best of all you were on the good side of Nathan Prescott (even if you didn’t speak anymore). Not many students could say that and even if you kept it mostly to yourself, you still couldn’t help but feel just a little superior.

Yes, it really seemed like you were where you were supposed to be. Finally, after bouncing from school to school to school, you were comfortable.

And then you felt it. The longing, empty feeling in your chest.

When it first arrived you thought maybe you were homesick, missing your parents and hometown, but after visiting them during a long weekend you realized that wasn’t the case. You were happy to see them again, and mostly content when you returned back to Blackwell, but at night you found yourself missing something. For the longest time you had no idea what it was.

Then you locked eyes with him, and all at once, you knew.

It had only been a quick glance and to him it probably meant nothing but for some reason it left you stunned, unable to move from your spot as he rested atop the fountain. He was rummaging through that binder he always carried, that same binder he always slammed shut when people walked by. Initially he hadn’t seen you, too wrapped up in whatever it was he was looking at, but when he looked up briefly he froze when you were in his line of sight. You were late to class and it was obvious he was skipping, leaving you two virtually alone in front of the school building.

Neither of you moved for a moment, staring at each other knowingly. You hated yourself for feeling nauseas as he watched you, but it wasn’t a bad nausea. You didn’t feel sick at the thought of Nathan Prescott staring at you. You didn’t cringe or turn your back on him. Instead you wanted to talk to him, sit down, ask him what he was working on as if he would actually tell you.

The spell that had been casted broke when the front doors swung open from behind the fountain, your friend poking her head out from the crack. “___!” She shouted, and Nathan jolted before looking at her over his shoulder. “Teacher’s pissed, you’re late, again!”

“You’re late too then, aren’t you?” You called back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking past the boy staring at you.

“I was on the way to the bathrooms and I saw you, hurry your ass up!” Without another word she retreated back inside and let the doors slam shut. You sighed to yourself, laughing shortly at her antics, but you went silent when you saw Nathan in the corner of your eye. Though you wanted to stop, to talk to him, you didn’t. Instead you just kept going, and he looked down at his binder as you passed by.

That following day you knew you were entirely screwed. You barely saw him again after that, and it was like everything had reverted back to normal. But this time something was different- you still missed him. He was scary and brash, loud and made you feel so uneasy but you wanted to be around him. You wanted to know about him- the things that made him tick. But most of all, you found, you wanted to help him. That was a funny thought though, given you could barely even take care of yourself sometimes.

Tonight was one of those nights, apparently. What was supposed to be a fun weekend out with your buddies turned sour on your end, and by midnight you had no ‘party’ left in you. Maybe it was all the homework you’d gotten that was due Monday, but it couldn’t be that. You had two more days to get it done. Maybe it was the fact that you never were much of a drinker, but, you also hadn’t drank hardly anything either. Perhaps tonight was just a night that was destined to be spent alone, even if it was a friday. At first you considered maybe sitting down for an hour or two to ease your rolling stomach, but then you felt the coldness of the weather and shivered. Arcadia Bay didn’t exactly have freezing winters but it was chilly enough to have you rubbing at your hands and arms every so often.

It was 1 am when you left, having to walk your way ]back to your dorms since the get together had been at the friends parents house. You were never a fan of walking after dark but at that moment, alone, listening to music, you’d rather have been there than anywhere else. Even if the streets were a little too dark, the alleyways a little too menacing, and the fact that you could hear a police siren a bit away even through the music of your earbuds, you were content.

As you clicked through songs trying to find the right one, the sirens stopped. You sighed in relief, even though you weren’t anxious anyways, because that meant that the police must have caught whatever perpetrator they were searching for.

You chose a random song and hummed along quietly. In hindsight you probably shouldn’t have had your music as loud as it was, your fingers occasionally turning the volume up even more out of habit. Before you knew it, you couldn’t hear a thing over the tunes that were playing. It was this that rendered you unaware of the feet behind you, the sound of someone running coming up fast. When you felt something slam into you from behind, effectively knocking you to the ground, the breath was forced from your lungs at the force. You couldn’t even gasp in shock, not entirely realizing what had happened even after your face made contact with the concrete. While your headphones fell off and clattered nearby, you cringed at the pain in your right side, looking over your shoulder and feeling your blood turn to ice at a figure only a few feet away. It was taller than you but not much larger, and was completely shrouded in darkness thanks to the convenient lack of street lamps.

“Agh, fuck,” The figure groaned, managing to bring itself to its feet. You narrowed your eyes, you knew that voice.

“Nathan?” You whispered, voice uncertain but harsh given the amount of pain you were in. There was silence and then suddenly you were being bathed in light, the source from the phone the figure had picked up.

“You?” He breathed viciously, and you huffed.

“Yeah, me,” you brought yourself to your feet and brushed the dirt from your pants. “Thanks a lot for the hello, fucker.”

“There no time to bullshit around,” Nathan said quickly, and before you could react he launched forward and grabbed your arm, literally trying to drag you with him as he left.

“Wait, my phone!” You hollered, ripping away from him and scrambling to gather your phone and headphones before he managed to grab the fabric of your hoodie and then pull you to your feet again.

“I said there’s no fucking time!”

Thankfully you did have enough time, fingers clutching your items to yourself as tightly as you could. Suddenly you were thankful that you left most of your stuff back at your friend's house because you didn’t feel like carrying it.

“Where are we going?” You tried your best to keep up with him but he just kept pulling you. When he didn’t answer you tried to plant your feet on the ground, bringing you and him to a halting stop. He shot you a look as though you’d just stabbed him. “Where are we going?” You repeated, panting.

Nathan, frantic, turned around in a quick circle as though he were looking for something. He groaned and rubbed his face, briefly tugging at his hair.  It was then you saw his attire- black jeans, his varsity jacket, and a white t shirt underneath. However it was all nearly caked in mud and dirt, and something a little more crimson than everything else. You gasped.

“What did you do?” You took a step away from him, horrified.

He looked at you and then his clothes before putting his hands up. “Don’t fucking freak out, okay? It’s not mine.”

Your eyes bulged at him. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?!”

“Stop fucking yelling!” He, ironically, shouted, then he took in a deep irritated breath. “Just chill the hell out, okay? Stop yelling.”

“Okay, okay,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“No,” He said quickly, that sudden frantic expression taking form again as he looked past you. “Not right now. We gotta go.”

When he made a reach for your arm again you pulled back. “We?”

“Yes, fucking-” He grabbed you and started to run again. “We!”

Instead of arguing you tried to save your breath, anxiety starting to bubble within you like a cloud of dust. It made you feel weak and lightheaded- or maybe that was just the fact that you hated running. Either way you were starting to get scared, and what made it so much worse was seeing a silent police car suddenly turn down the street Nathan was hauling you on. He came to a dead stop, almost making you clash into the back of him, before pivoting and dragging you in another direction.

This time it was off the road and up a small hill, then into some poor strangers back yard. When Nathan rooted his knees to the dirt, his form covered by the thick hedges that lined the person's yard, he yanked you down with him. The fear of being caught in a stranger's yard with a troubled and most likely on the run teen was suddenly very real, and you swallowed thickly trying to wrap your head around how you’d gotten yourself into this mess. All you had wanted was a nice night to yourself.

Beside you Nathan was dead silent, reaching out to poke his hands through the leaves to clear some out. Then he peered through the brush, squinting through the darkness.

“What the fuck is going on?” You quietly whispered, pissed to hell and back. When he didn’t answer your childish nature got the better of you, and you reached out and pinched his leg. He flinched, swatted at your hand, and for a moment it sounded like he actually growled at you.

“Would you just fuck off for a minute?” He hissed, not looking at you. You shook your head in annoyance, in disbelief, and tried to look through the leaves as well. Luckily you didn't have to clear much to get a perfect view of the police car slowly cruising by, a white light scanning the area back and forth in search of who you guessed was Nathan. As it passed by you held your breath, eyes wide as it drew close enough for you to hear the engine and tires crushing the rocks.  When it continued it’s way down the road and eventually turned, you felt like a weight had been pulled clean off your shoulders. You fell back onto your ass not-so gracefully, running a hand through your hair.

“What did you do?” your voice was much softer now, tired from all the suspense and running. He looked down at you.

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Yeah, because that,” you gestured to his clothes. “Is so convincing.”

“Just mind your own business.” Nathan grumbled, and for a moment you swore you sw red.

“Mind my fucking business?” You were seeting at this point. “You dragged me into this! I just hid from a cop car! This is my fucking business! Why are you covered in shit and blood?”

“Keep asking questions and I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

You gaped at him. He was fucking joking, right?

The hostile look on his face, even through the darkness, told you otherwise. You brought yourself to your feet and wiped at your face, feeling dirty from just looking at him.

“This was fun Prescott,” you started, putting your headphones around your neck. “But I’m fucking leaving.”

“You can’t yet.” He suddenly said. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he huffed. “They’re still out there.”

“Yeah, and they’re looking for you, not me.”

“You owe me.” He stated blankly.

“For Madison?” you asked incredulously. “That was for the jocks and you know it.”

“Not just your stupid note-book fiasco,” He said, standing up, and you took a step back. Oh god, here came the yelling. “Do you even know how much shit I’ve done for you? How many assholes I kept off your back after that?” You blinked at him, unsure of what he meant. At your obliviousness he forced a sharp laugh. “Of course you don’t. See, when I rescued your sorry ass from those dickheads, I told you that it would make you a target, yeah?” You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why do you think that none of the shit ever came? I’ve been working my ass off keeping people off your back. You’re fucking welcome.”

“I-I don’t-” You looked everywhere but at him, searching for words to say. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Don’t ask me shit I don’t know the answer to.” He looked left and right over the bushes, making sure the coast was clear before passing you by. “This is how you thank me. You keep your mouth shut about what you saw tonight.”

Though you hated the feeling of being chewed out by none of than Nathan Prescott, the problem child of the year, you still nodded and remained silent. When he took little care in shoving past you, you turned to follow him out of the stranger’s yard and back onto the street.

“Why are you even out so late?” He asked as though he had any right to talk.

You shrugged. “I was just walking back to my dorms.”

“At 1 am?” He scoffed, shoving his hand into his pockets and glancing over his shoulder for any sign of the cop. “You don’t seem like a night kind of person.”

“I was feeling sick so I went home.” You knew you didn’t owe him any sort of explanation but at that moment you were tired and honestly, all you wanted was to go to your room. Your casual walk back to the dormitories, so calming and enjoyable, was ruined. You were also painfully reminded why you kept your distance was Nathan. It seemed maybe after not talking to him for so long you forget the edges he carried with him at all times, forgot how troubled followed him wherever he went.

“Sick?” He mumbled, looking back at you. “You look just fine to me.”

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your phone, turning it on to check the time. 1:30. “I just want to get back, okay?”

He rose his eyebrows and turned his back on you. “Yeah, fine, what the fuck ever. Lucky for you I’m on my way back to my dorm too so feel fucking free to thank me for the walk home.”

“I didn’t ask you to walk me back, you know.” You huffed, looking down at the ground. “Feel ‘fucking free’ to hurry your ass up and leave me alone.”

Nathan didn’t answer, or maybe he didn’t hear. Either way you weren’t repeating yourself, occasionally checking your phone as if it would make your now silent walk home any less awkward as it already was. Among the silence there was also anxiety- what if the car returned? Where would you hide if you had enough time? On top of that, what if you got caught? Your parents would have your throat for getting into legal trouble, even if you hadn’t exactly done anything illegal in the first place.

While you two trekked block after block, you made sure to keep mental notes of all the areas you could duck into should a police car arrive. These spots mostly consisted of thick trees, bushes, and occasionally decks if they jutted out far enough. As you picked out spot after spot, you only realized you were close to the dorms when Nathan suddenly hissed ‘shit’ and then swiftly ducked behind the Blackwell Academy's welcome sign by the road.

“What is it?” You asked quickly, peeking over the top. From what you could tell the parking lots looked normal on either side, but he seemed distraught.

“Fuck,” He repeated a few times. “Jackasses- they’re staking out the boy’s dormitories.”

You snapped to look down at him, eyes wide. “What, did you kill someone?”

“No, I didn’t kill someone!” He said defensively. You peeked over the edge again, swallowing. “Look, do me one more favor.” He added quietly.

“Like what?” You didn’t look down at him, still peering over the edge for anyone that could be walking around.

“Give me your clothes.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

He roughly gripped at his hair, groaning. “Not right now! In your dorm, give me clothes!”

“I’m not letting you in my dorm!”

“I said do me this one last fucking favor!”

“No!”

It wasn’t wise to argue with Nathan and you knew it, but your temper sometimes really did get the best out of you. You were utterly shocked that he’d demand to have your clothes, and on top of that trespass into your dorm even after nearly getting you arrested.

“If I go in my own they’ll arrest me,” he argued. “So let me into yours. It won’t fucking take all night, I just- I just need a minute.”

You shifted your weight and then stared at your feet, frowning, giving into him even though your conscious screamed at you to do otherwise. If you helped him you’d be potentially aiding a criminal, but if you didn’t he would hate you and then that big target would return. As much as you hated it, you needed the shelter.

“Fine.” You grumbled. “But you better not get me fucking caught or so help me.”

“Fine, fine,” He got up and looked over the edge. “Let’s just hurry up.”

Since the police cars were likely looking for a male fitting Nathan’s description (if they had even seen him directly), there were none parked nearby the girls dormitory. Given it was late at night all the students were inside sleeping, so all their cars parked gave you and Nathan great cover as you darted from vehicle to vehicle, occasionally looking through windows just to make sure there was no one undercover watching. It was an easy trip and in no time at all you were both bounding the steps leading up to the door. You used your key to open the doors and when you both stepped inside there was physical relief, the walls providing shelter from both the outside and from the all the possible watching eyes. But, your ‘mission’ wasn’t complete yet. You put a finger to your lips, looking back at Nathan before starting to walk through the hallways. Stopping at your door, you were suddenly embarrassed at the stupid messages your friends left you on your whiteboard. Nathan saw them and of course had to make some sort of scene, raising his brows and pointing at the remarks. Though you wanted to lock him out, you opened your door and led him inside.

Your room was never the cleanest but it wasn’t dirty either. The only thing you were had an issue with was decorating- you didn’t have much decor whatsoever. All your room consisted of was basic necessities: a night stand, a bed, a dresser, and your homework desk, and even that was rather bland.

“Wow,” He breathed, standing in the center of the room while you pulled open your drawers and grabbed at your baggier clothes. Most of it was pajamas but he’d have to make do if he really wanted to have something clean to wear. You looked over at him, and he laughed under his breath. “Your room fucking sucks.”

Your fingers squeezed at the knobs of your dresser in frustration, eyes slipping closed as an irritated sigh left your lips. “I’m still moving in.”

“Yeah I can see that. It’s so vacant and- are those cobwebs?”

“Shut up, Nathan.” you shoved a pair of sweatpants and a black t shirt at his chest, which he grabbed and glared at you for the act of aggression.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Given you’re in my room, about to be wearing my clothes, and you dragged me into some sort of legal shit, I think I can tell you whatever I want.” He rolled his eyes but didn’t speak, so you continued. “Change your clothes and then go so I can get some sleep. Or maybe do homework.”

“Wow you sure know how to party.” he said sarcastically, tossing the clothes you gave him onto the bed. Without warning he grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, baring his stomach and chest to you.

“Woah!” you gasped, sharply turning around and staring at the wall. “A heads up would be nice next time!”

“Maybe if you weren’t always fucking staring at me that wouldn’t happen.” Despite his bitterness you could hear a waver in his voice- maybe he was shy after all.

“Are we really going to start this ‘stop watching me’ crap again?” You groaned, slumping your shoulders. From behind you, you could hear the shuffling of fabrics as he presumably dressed into the top you’d give him. It was a shock that you didn’t care less he was probably putting his dirty clothes on your bed.

“You’re always staring at me,” He started, but he wasn’t mad. Your brows knit at the sound of his voice, as mellow as it was. “You never say shit, but you’re always staring at me.”

“I see you here and there, Nathan. It’s not like I look for you on purpose.” Your cheeks were starting to warm as you realized that maybe yeah, you were looking for him on purpose. There was no way you’d say that to him, though. He’d probably get mad about it for some reason you couldn’t quite place. Your face flushed even hotter when you heard what sounded like his belt being undone, and even though you weren’t looking and this definitely wasn’t a romantic situation, it was still jarring to know he was undressed behind you. Grow up, ___, you mentally screamed at yourself. 

“Even before everything you were always there. You were so fucking creepy, you know that? The new kid who never said shit. You were always watching everyone.”

“I didn’t have any friends, sue me.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“You’re one to talk?” Without thinking you turned sharply, glaring at him in anger. How dare he talk to you like he was Mr. Popular. Everyone hated him! The rumors, the names, all the things you’d heard about him, and he was grilling you for not making any friends? For being ‘creepy’ because you were distant at a new school? Through your anger you barely registered the fact that he was still pants less, staring at you like he didn’t understand it either. There was a tense moment of silence, and you felt your mouth dry. You turned back around. “Sorry. You just-” you shoulders tensed. “You piss me off so much.”

There was more rustling behind you and finally you heard his sigh. “Stop looking at the wall, I’m done.”

Hesitantly you turned, looking at him through the corners of your eyes just incase for some reason he wasn't dressed still. When you saw he was, in fact, covered, you let your shoulders relax again. It was odd seeing him in casual clothing given he mostly wore rather expensive materials, and you inwardly smiled. He looked cute with your clothes on and his hair all messed up. For once he didn’t look all posh and fake, he looked human. A very dirty human who still had dirt all over his face, so you grabbed the baby-wipes you kept on your nightstand and handed them to him.

“Baby wipes?” He asked, wiping his cheekbones and beneath his eyes. “What am I, five?”

“You might as well be sometimes.” you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, watching him wipe the dirt from his face and then his hands. When he finished it was quite the sight to see him bunch them up and then just toss them on your floor, and you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“Be quiet.” He muttered, and then started tugging at the clothes he was wearing, looking down at them with a disgruntled expression. .

You, having grown far too tired to deal with much more of his shit, rolled your eyes at his constant display of anger. “Why do you do that?”  He looked at you like he had no idea what you were talking about, and it annoyed you that much more. “I can’t say anything to you without you getting all pissy and mad. If I bother you that much than why are you here?”

“Um,” He grabbed the collar of the shirt he was wearing. “I told you I needed fucking clothes.”

“Then why didn’t you call someone else! You’ve got delinquent friends, I’m sure.”

“Because I ran into you, you were there.” Nathan scowled at you and made his way past the bed, staring to take small steps towards you he grew increasingly upset. You wished you could’ve held your tongue but you still kept going.

“I could’ve gotten arrested,” you hissed. “It would have been all your fault.”

“Hey, I got out of the mess, didn’t I?”

“Barely! And I didn’t ask you to!”

Nathan was upon you in a moment, hand slamming flat against the wall beside your head. You hated how he was capable of dwarfing you, leaving you feeling defenseless against him even if he had virtually no muscle on his frame. It was his eyes, his shoulders, his aura that made you bite your tongue. The tension in the air was so thick you could’ve choked on it, and the silence wasn’t helping. He was just staring you, eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. You really fucked up this time.

“You have no idea the shit I’ve done for you.” He growled, hand balling into a fist beside your head. Your anger only festered as he spoke, and you could feel your body start to shake at the intense moment. He leaned in close to you, eyes on fire. “You should be grateful, ___. It fucks up my reputation.”

“You don’t care about your reputation,” You breathed, your voice calm despite the wave of fury boiling beneath your skin. “And if in some way you do, then why do you keep helping me?”

His eyes bore into your own, unmoving, unchanging. He didn’t answer your question even if it was entirely direct, and you found yourself nearly breathless as he grew closer to you. So much flowed through you, first the anger that lit you up, the sudden fear of being caught in a corner, and now you just stood there, looking back up at him and shaking. You were so pissed off him at him but you couldn’t say anything else, the thickness in their almost tangible.

Nathan was so fearsome, but for some reason he didn’t scare you. Indimitiated you, yes, but you never felt like he would hurt you. Sure, the thought of being hit crossed your mind, but somehow you just knew he wouldn’t. Even now, backed up against the wall with his arms caging you in front of him, you didn’t cower beneath him. You couldn't meet the intensity of his eyes as there was just too much within them, but you hoped you could muster up something to at least be on the same level.

When you spoke again, you were hesitant and soft.

“Why are you helping me?”

It barely rose above a whisper in the quiet room. He blinked, licked at his lips, and for a moment you swore he leaned in to kiss you. You almost met him halfway. But then he pushed himself back, settled his hand on his forehead.

“Nevermind.” He whispered hotly. “Just fucking-- forget I said anything.”

You found yourself almost chasing him, taking a step forward and fighting the urge to rest your hands on his chest. “Tell me,” You murmured, trying to coax him into an explanation. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why do you care so much?” He retorted, letting his hands fall to his waists in vexation. He knew what you were going to say, so continued spoke before you could answer. “I should leave.”

Not quite timid, not quite furious, either. He was in a strange state of mind and you wanted to know more about it. But, he wasn’t willing, suddenly appearing like he’d rather be anywhere but your room despite being the one who demanded he come over. Still shaking from your previous position, you shrugged and sighed. There wasn’t a point in arguing with him anymore. The best way to get something out of Nathan was to have him acting like a loose cannon, talking with no filter or worry of consequence. He was learning, you realized, and that’s how he forced himself away from you. He stopped himself before he revealed too much information. You desperately wished to know what he would have done, but you gave in anyways.

“Fine, yeah. I’ll walk you out.”

Nathan looked at you and there was something there, you could see it and you could feel it. Disappointment, but then acceptance. He shifted his weight and subconsciously tried to shove his hands into his pockets, but given he had none, opted to just shrugging his head down.

He pushed past you, unlocking your door before walking out as if he had a right to be there. You didn’t turn, not yet, staring ahead in your room feeling almost dazed. He was so spontaneous, and you had no idea what he was thinking at any given moment, but when you had your back to the wall, his physique almost shrinking yours, you thought maybe you knew. When you closed your eyes in disappointment, you felt shame course through you. You had wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him, and then ask him why he was such an asshole at times. God, you wanted to ask him everything.

“Are you coming or not?” Nathan whispered behind you. “I can one-hundred percent walk my ass out of here if you’d rather stand around.”

You opened your eyes and tried to push yourself out of your own head, turning on your heel, grabbing your phone, and slipping outside your door. Just like when you had first come in, the halls were dark without even a single light showing beneath the cracks of the rooms surrounding you two.

“What if the cars aren’t gone yet?” You whispered, looking out for any security guards before darting down the corridor. You saw him shrug in front of you, eyes forward at the front doors.

“They probably aren’t,” Nathan moved forward and you followed suit, oddly impressed at how easy it was for him to choose the right moment for sneaking around. “I’ll just stay at V’s or something. Wouldn’t be the first time I was out all night anyways.”

You frowned. 

Stay at my room.

“Why are you out at night?” You asked, and he didn’t answer. “Seriously, you get into all this trouble- why?”

“None of your damn business, that’s why.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot tonight.”

He glared at you over his shoulder, a silent order to shut up. Though you wanted to argue and force things out of him you didn’t, shaking your head in defeat and sighing. As he made his way to the front doors he cupped the window with his hands, peering out and giving a breath of relief when there was nothing but empty cars in the parking lot.

“Alright,” He started, unlocking the door and carefully pushing it open. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut about this, got it? I find out you snitched and I’ll-”

“Shoot me, I know.” You crossed your arms. “And I already know what you’re going to say next: don’t expect the favor to be returned.”

He gave one last scan of the parking lot before turning to you, snatching your phone out of your hands. He was typing before you even had a chance to grab it back, gaping at him like he had two heads. “Actually,” He mumbled. “You should. You only get one, though. One. Don’t fucking waste it on some stupid shit.” He practically threw your phone back at you and luckily you caught it.

As Nathan stuck one foot out of the door, the breeze cutting through the opening and chilling you to the bone, he glanced at you over his shoulder. His expression was different than it had been moments ago, you noticed. There was no anger this time, no irritation. Thank you, it said. It felt like you were freeing an previously injured animal.

There was silence, and then he was gone.

[cosmosogler]

hi guys!!! i am writing in at 10:34 instead of 10 because... i don’t know.

my dream stuck with me all day. i tried talking to real people to sort my head out but it wasn’t as helpful as i’d hoped.

i wasted a LOT of time just... doing nothing, i guess. i skipped lunch, but i knew the more meals i skip the worse i’ll feel, so i forced down like a single serving of trail mix. then i poked around for a little bit longer (didn’t even clean my apartment). 

oh, i did pick up my package. and i found out that the apartment complex is charging me 96 extra dollars over my full rent every month. i started getting that sorted out but i won’t hear back from the administrator until she gets in on monday, and even then they can be kinda slow to respond. 

like how i had to notify maintenance that there was a giant hole in my wall and they did nothing about it for a month so i told them again and they still did nothing so i had to fix it myself and then they came in and did nothing but leave a little flyer on my door. and also the mold in the hole had been making me sick for the whole month before that.

my toilet also seems like it’s got something in the refill pipes that gunks everything up every two weeks but i’m reluctant to put in a maintenance order. i’d rather just keep cleaning it and/or fix it myself when i get time.

eventually i dragged myself out to my bike and got on and biked over to gamestop. it was a lovely day. i experimented with using different gears but i think my bike chain doesn’t like that very much because 2nd gear is different depending on if i was in 1st or 3rd last.

i went to the grocery store and got too much again... i spent less than usual i think? i dunno the vegetarian stuff can get kinda pricey... and the cat litter is a huge hassle to get around. it makes my bike so heavy i don’t have a lot of control over it at all.

which is how i ended up getting hit by a motorcycle on my way home. 

it was not going very fast. it had pulled out of a side road/driveway thing? and was blocking the sidewalk. i expected it to either not block the sidewalk or to go out into the traffic since the road was clear. i did not expect it to do neither of those things. i also could not stop the bike even though i had grabbed the brake.

he decided to pull forward when i was right in front of him and he knocked me over and then he fell over. my bike handlebar fell directly on my bag of popcorn (i’d gotten it in the hope of having something a little more filling as a snack for my lunchbox) and it exploded and it made the scariest noise i’ve ever heard while hitting the ground. 

we’d fallen into the road so he and i scrambled to our feet pretty quick and i yanked my bike upright even though it was way too heavy for me to do that normally without a lot of care, especially with the 20-pound cat litter. adrenaline is a strange thing.

it’s actually really surprising i wasn’t hurt more badly than i was? my grocery bags had been wrapped uncomfortably and tightly around my shoulders since i’d had trouble getting them on my back. i was WAY HEAVIER than i normally am because of that. i fell directly on my arm and/or hand (i don’t remember the moment just before and just after the fall well at all) and i did bruise my fingers but not my arm. and i didn’t scrape my side or hip or leg. wearing jeans probably helped.

i mean like... my purse got a faceful of road. my ankle and foot hurt and my fingers on my left hand aren’t working that well if i grab anything. but i didn’t even get winded or trapped under my bulky grocery bags or the bike, which did fall on me. my muscles have become Powerful. and also the bike must have been saved by its soft landing directly on my popcorn and my bread.

a few pedestrians came by to check on us. one guy either offered me his number or asked for mine to “check up on” me. i said that wouldn’t be necessary. when i told asher about it he thought that was super weird. i wasn’t thinking very hard about it at the time but i did pretend to be less hurt than i actually was.

i took a minute to stop having a heart attack and i made sure the guy’s motorcycle didn’t break. it was actually damaged more than my bike was because i am an Unstoppable Force.

then i walked by bike to the stoplight half a block away and got on it and rode home on my injured ankle and with the bags even heavier because i’d gotten tired.

i told my classmates about it on our group chat and then i sat and avoided doing anything for like a whole hour. i got my shiny silvally and trained it. i finished up my laundry. i made a very small, very early dinner because i knew i had to eat something even though i still didn’t want anything.

then i biked to campus and got there arouuund 4:40-ish. i coasted most of the way because i really was tired. i graded! for three hours!! i finished one section!!!!!!!!!

bad. it’s maybe 10% of the work i have to finish this weekend. sorting out depression AND finances AND getting hit by motor vehicles AND adult chores like laundry AND doing my school work is too hard...

when i got to the office jennica gave me some of her candy. i revealed that i had also bought halloween candy and gave it to her and suzanne and taylor. wasn’t no one else there. i stayed in suzanne’s office even after she left for a little bit for two reasons. i didn’t feel like moving and also jennica was watching a football game and screaming at her screen. but then it got really hot in that office and taylor was tapping the floor so hard i could feel the vibrations through my shoes and hear it over my music. so i moved to my office, which also belongs to jennica.

the third time she screamed so hard my ears rang, i turned around to address her. i tried to be as polite as i could and ask her to at least keep down the screaming because it was hurting my ears. i was mostly tired of flinching every time she did it though.

so like... there were things making it hard to do work. i hope that the extra 90% of my work goes faster tomorrow. i’m gonna try to get into the office early, if i can... it’s my goal. i don’t always reach my goals. obviously.

so i biked home and had a small snack (even though i STILL didn’t want to eat anything, i could tell i was very hungry) and then it was 9:30 and i watched a 45-minute video. and then i watched another video i guess. i only have one video left in my bookmarks but it’s also 45 minutes long so it’ll have to wait for next weekend i guess.

now it’s 11. it is hard to want to go to sleep again. 

it’s... rare that i remember conversations in my dreams. and i don’t remember word for word what i was talking about with those guys. thinking about learning a piano piece, wondering if he could help me, talking about siblings. i’m a lot more direct and honest in my dreams which is kind of nice as much as it is worrying. i don’t like swearing (just in general, i mean, in practice it’s usually really funny) but it seems to slip out a lot when i’m dreaming and i wonder what that says about me.

it’s kind of nice to be that... blunt, i guess, isn’t the right word. not obtuse, even if sometimes the conversations take place entirely in strange phrases that only read as metaphors or, in retrospect, really hilarious and face-slapping puns that took four hours to set up.

guess there’s not much point in lying to myself. i assume here that the dream people i encounter are, in fact, all in my head, and not anywhere else. it’s, kind of, comforting, that i don’t seem to be hiding that much from myself, if dream revelations sound more like “oh yeah that sounds right” than “wow i didn’t know i felt that way.” i love to keep my secrets but at least i know what they are, i guess? 

sometimes it’s hard to discern my motivations when i talk to people, just because, it’s complicated and i feel super suspicious all the time even when i’m being really honest with my stories and goofy about jokey jokes. but i barely ever approach dream people with the intention of actually lying to them even if i keep a lot of things to myself. and that’s how i feel when i’m awake too. 

i share a lot but it’s always stuff that doesn’t really matter to me. and it’s funny if i complain about it instead of really sad. other people don’t always think it’s funny too though. and i guess they pick up on the stuff i would rather keep secret even if i try to hide it.

i let my moods affect me a lot even though i don’t always want to. being in a bad mood can make something feel right that doesn’t normally feel right. like deciding to share stuff from my childhood in a way that is not even a little bit of a joke. i don’t WANT people to know i’m in a bad mood, but i want to act in a different way than usual and that tips people off maybe? because different things seem like good ideas and different things seem like bad ideas depending on how bad i feel?

i guess i can get pretty reckless when i don’t feel good. reckless socially, maybe. being unhappy or angry and NOT blowing it off as a joke or absolutely downplaying it? that’s normally terrifying!!!

like i said in our group chat i was cranky but otherwise fine. cranky was kind of a vague way of not-saying i spent an hour refusing to leave my desk or eat or do anything that might help me make use of the daylight i had left because even though i didn’t FEEL scared (i don’t feel anything really) i knew my body was scared. does that make sense?

i feel like that a lot. where i’ll recognize a situation where i would normally have this sort of response, so i’ll kinda go through the motions of responding the way i remember how to, but i don’t feel the emotion that would normally cause me to respond that way. i can’t tell if i’m just acting out of habit, or an attempt to be “normal,” or i am actually feeling things and my brain is telling me i’m not for some reason, or what. maybe all of those, and maybe other things too.

the only emotion i really recognize when i feel it is anger. i know when i’m angry. but that’s about it. 

i can’t tell if i’m lying or not. like of COURSE, i MUST feel happy sometimes. but thinking about memories that are supposed to be happy i don’t... have a word for how i feel. i know it’s not happy, but it must be something, and happy seems to be the only option there. but i keep having the need to say “i don’t feel anything.” it’s disorienting, knowing that something should be there and finding that it’s not, but it must be, because where else would it be? where did my emotions go? did they leak out of my ear or something? are there holes in my pockets?

like i have panic attacks, i KNOW i’m having a panic attack, i’m experiencing all the symptoms... except for the actual thought “i’m feeling panicked.” the panic isn’t there. just the headache and the trouble breathing and the shaky hands and the restlessness. so it must be panic. but where is the panic??? 

am i overthinking it? is it normal to overthink it? 

trying to categorize and intellectualize all my emotions is probably what’s making them so hard to feel. you don’t think about all the individual muscles you have to stimulate in order to grab a pencil. you just want to grab the pencil and then it is grabbed. if you think about HOW to grab the pencil it’s easy to get caught up in the “wait. what?” part of it. you just gotta do it naturally.

maybe that’s why meditation helps so much with some people. lets you stop thinking about the “how” and the “why” and just kinda, “do” it.

wikipedia has some interesting things to say about it. “ speculating about one's own problems rather than experiencing them and attempting to change. “ 

“ Alternatively the therapist may unwittingly deflect the patient away from feeling to mere talking of feelings, producing not emotional but merely intellectual insight[23] an obsessional attempt to control through thinking the lost feelings parts of the self. “ 

heh. a long time ago i was talking about how badly i wanted to stop feeling things. guess i got what i wanted. but i didn’t really stop feeling things so much as only sometimes feel bad things and stop feeling good things altogether.

maybe that’s an answer then. stop thinking about it so dang hard. things will happen. i don’t have to think about how to make them happen in order to actually make them happen. emotional things, moreso than adult outside life things. i have to consider my approach toward getting my rent payments back if i want to actually get them back. it’s not advice for every situation...

but instead of thinking so hard about how to move my arm that i hurt my brain, i should probably just move my arm.

that requires dealing with a lot of emotions that i don’t really want to deal with because it’s not useful to me right now. it won’t be helpful for me right now to be furious and miserable all the time for a few weeks. there’s never really a good time for it... when i had time, i was at home, so i didn’t have the right space for it. now i got the space, sort of, but absolutely no time at all.

i guess i was, after all, happy at the restaurant last night, hanging out with my friends, not thinking about whether i was happy or not. it wasn’t pure happy, but it was there. contentment. i don’t remember it now, very well, but i wasn’t thinking about it that way at the time. moods can do a lot toward changing your perception of what things felt like and what seems like a good or bad idea.

i guess, the thing here is, i don’t feel safe enough to feel all my emotions. i mentioned it to keegan yesterday, when we were talking about drugs, just because that’s where the conversation went. i said i never really wanted to alter my state of mind like that because i hate the idea of not being in control of what i say. he said “interesting” but wouldn’t elaborate.

loosening up would make it harder to pay attention to everything and run with (more or less) one behavior strategy. i know how it is to be drunk, let alone connected to the universe. even then i have to be really careful, especially around my family. if something happened and i didn’t have all my faculties... it’s not safe. 

and now, snoopy pooped directly next to my desk. so i cleaned that up. it’s after 11:30. i should sleep.

one thought. i think that’s why my moods feel so... horrible. it feels horrible to be in a different mood than usual and i hate myself when i feel differently from “nothing” because i feel like that makes me act differently. and i feel like i can’t afford that. being angry makes me feel like i’m going to slip up and say something i don’t actually want to say. being happy feels like it makes me less careful. because who cares! things are good!! these people are good too!!!

and being angry is like, “everyone should know how much my life sucks because i’m so miserable and i want someone to acknowledge me.” 

i crave that sweet validation. i shouldn’t need it. my life is real whether people believe it or not. even *i* don’t want to acknowledge most of this stuff normally.

i was a little mean today, at the office. meaner than i intended. well, i intend to be 0 mean, so like, 2 mean is too much for me. some things that were supposed to be jokes were said with just the wrong amount of edge. i hope they know it’s because i was knocked over by a motor vehicle today and not because i am angry with them.

and like... being angry isn’t an excuse to be snippy. i shouldn’t take it out on them. i just didn’t really have any patience for screaming in a small enclosed echoey space today.

i feel like i’m a bad person because i don’t have a better handle on my temper and who i need to not direct it at.

anyway, a good thing today. i had a lot of fun at gamestop and i had a great bike ride out there and most of the way back. i’m glad that i wasn’t badly hurt and that my bike wasn’t visibly damaged. we’ll see how the gear shift holds up. it was already acting kinda weird today before the crash. i’ll take it in next weekend after this grading problem is taken care of and maybe my class schedule is adjusted.

i’m glad that i started riding the bike everywhere though. it opens up a huge range of options for me as far as traveling goes. i can basically make it across town on my own within 45 minutes. and it’s helping me get some sunlight and exercise where i couldn’t before. i’ve been on it literally every day since i started riding once my helmet came in. and my hands are starting to get calloused and i don’t feel totally wiped if i have to hustle for more than 30 seconds on foot.

i’m going to bed an hour late now but i feel like... it was worth it. i’m feeling a little better now. i’m still gonna do introspection because i like it and it’s helpful to me sometimes and it’s nice to have a record of how i’ve been feeling long term, but i will also try to not panic about not feeling emotions. they are slippery creatures and tend to disappear if you spend too much time looking for them. but they are there if you don’t, like, break out the magnifying glass and the sherlock.

[whatifwechange]

Journal Confessions: Love and Letting Go (Late Night Denny’s Memoir)

August 15/16, 2017

“Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.”

This entry might be long, it could be shorter, but I'm just gonna word vomit everything I need to say right now. It all started when I got to work yesterday. Obviously I was aware it was James’ last day, but I wasn't trying to get a hug or a “goodbye” picture like everyone else. I was just annoyed and wanted the day to come and go as fast and as painless as possible. (Boy, was I wrong). First thing, I wanted to host inside so I was able to hang with him all night and soak up whatever I had left, but only Vanessa was inside. Skip through the horrid process of a 6 hour shift on Karaoke Night (seeing Krista, Andrea and Megan being overly annoying). Nicole text James around 11:30 and says she hungry and wants to chill and that she’ll be at Jacks soon to pick us up! Tahyla decides to join the ride because she already OTLED and Megan decides to come as well. NOTE: The entire end of mine and Tahyla’s shift we decide to just rip up James’ host uniform and he has the gaping hole in his shirt.

Fast Forward: We are leaving Jacks and all of us are on our way to Denny’s because its a 24hr restaurant that I assumed sold decent food. James’ insist that we stop by his house to get a new shirt, comb his hair, and maybe shower, but Nicole declined, typical. When we got to Denny’s, we were THE loudest group and probably the most annoying in the restaurant. We got our food and talked crap about Astor’s, what else is new. My milkshake was surprisingly very good, but when the rest of our food came out I could barely eat. Everything was so bad and honestly I could have thrown up right there…. But luckily only Megan did. Tahyla went home early because she started getting hives. James’ shirt was half open, and Megan was straight up puking in the Denny's bathroom. Note to mention, both James’ and I went into the women’s bathroom and swapped shirts, but my shirt was too small for him and I had to switch back. (Lowkey, I thought that was a ride or die moment, cause if he wanted my shirt, fine, I’ll take it off my own back for you).

Fast Forward, its only the three musketeers in Denny’s around 2:30 maybe 3:00 am. We talk about polygamy, marriage, kids, and my flings with Dimetri that we should have ended talking about very quickly. We learnt about James’ Bajan past and the cheating and I learnt about the two sisters back at work. It was like pulling teeth out of this guy, he would budge until the sun finally ROSE! Tbh, I feel like the real reason we didn't wanna go home or go home when the rest did is because we didn't want the night to end. And as the hours past and our hearts felt void and empty and anxious and regretful. I couldn't get up because I needed to feel everything and let everything go, even if it hurt or sucked or caused me this much pain.

Nicole and I finally get James to talk and when he started at said his emotions and began his sentence and pointed to me saying “You see, this girl” my heart literally fell out my chest because honestly I wasn't expecting him to go all out already. We switch locations and move to the car while we watched the moon and THE SUN WHICH HIDES BEHIND IT slowly start to come up. That's when shit went deep…

5:00 am…

Juice?: We talked about everything and anything and I honestly felt relieved that I was saying this and we were all saying things and that I could even stomach this emotion in the first place. He told me that he felt like we should have met a long time ago and maybe we could have worked, and we could have worked if he grew up here and was.. Dimetri. He openly said that theres no way that he could separate a friendship like mine and Dimetri’s, but it would be selfish to that but ultimately is “intimidated” by it. I understand the logic of him getting cheated on and history would repeat itself but I'm not that girl and I’d never do that to him. I guess when something fucks you up that hard you can't ever really come back. We talked about how our relationship was one of a kind though. How can people that like each other so much and go out and hang out and talk everyday, stop and then continue to become friends for work and still pick up where we left off. Its incredible that we are able to do that, that our bond is so strong that no matter what happens we can still jump back from it. And I love that about us.

He said he felt anxious because he was leaving and sad because he's gonna miss us and the one that was the kicker was he was “relieved” because he didn't have to see me again and feel this way. (Then proceeded to cry) which really hurt me because I don't want him to ever feel hurt because obviously it hurts me when he says shit like that. He said he knows I see him as a kid which is partly true but id like to think we’d work out better in the future when we've gotten older and he said when he allows himself to grow and stop thinking that his past relationship could possibly affect ours. Then James just asked a bunch of final questions like what was I thinking during this time and why did we stop talking…

My Final Thoughts: It could be sleep deprivation because I'm up only 4hrs after I came home but. God, I love this boy, so much. Idk how to explain it, he makes me so happy and I'm always happy, even if I don't show it, when I come to go to work and he's there. He knows me better than a lot of people at Jacks. Even if I share how much I care in Boston Creams, I want him to know I do and that I'm thinking of him. He was my Jacks ride or die and this is apart of my life I can't ever get back. James is the Jude to my Willem (or other way around). I don't know if I could call this my first “heartbreak" or “love” because you know I don't touch that shit.. but maybe it was. Im not sure what this was or what this feeling is. I just think it wasn't our time. But my God man, this guy changed my life fort he better (ew, why does it sound like I'm writing vows… ew marriage, gross). Also if James truly has kids at 23… I’ll rip my hair out.

Sincerely, Danielle

shit… I guess Kyle was right.

[We almost dated is such a sad relationship to have with someone. Almost is such a weird title to own. As if you almost could have tasted his lips and you are almost pretty sure they taste like pink roses. And he almost loved you back and was ready to water your dry ribs and plant flowers in between your lungs.

Almost has become a habit for me. I never really possessed something entirely, and so when I tell you that I am hungry and that I need more than a taste… you have to understand that I have been starving for eras.

Almost is all I know and I wish it wasn’t like this. I want possession and cold pure nights of nothing but the drunken taste of love in my mouth, in my throat, in my veins, in my brain, and in my blood.

I almost had you. Almost. ]

[impala-dreamer]

This Ain’t No Joke, Sweetheart - Chapter 2

SPN FanReality

~Let me tell you about my weekend…~

Beka ( @impala-dreamer​ ), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Steph ( @torn-and-frayed​ ), Bill (my hubs) 

3,330 Words

Warnings: Nothing really. Language?, very mild show-type violence. Mentions of blood (crime scene).

A/N: Hope you’re enjoying the insanity. The weekend’s not nearly over yet. Hell, we didn’t even finish Friday yet…

Go To Chapter: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight

Chapter Two: Friday Night…

The Impala. The fucking Impala was parked in my carport. My carport. The wide strip of cracked gray cement that separated my pale blue house from the one to its left. The place where my husband parked our used Honda Minivan every night. Dean Winchester’s beloved 1967 Chevy Impala was parked in my carport. I nearly squealed as I followed the boys down my front steps towards it. The rain glistened on the hood, illuminated by the streetlights, and my heart skipped wildly in my chest.

I ran my fingers gently over the hood. It was real, solid, shiny. “Baby,” I whispered in quiet reverence. This was the Holy Grail, the heart of the show, their home away from home, the most important object in the history of the universe. The Impala.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Dean stood next to me, his eyes sweeping over the car’s frame just as lovingly as mine did.

“She is.”

“Hop in,” he said, pulling open the back door for me. A moment of pure joy and panic swept over me, but I did just as he said. I hopped right in.

The feeling overwhelmed me. The soft, old leather under my fingers, the springy but firm seat beneath me. The smell of it, the look, every single detail was in place, and my mind reeled as Sam and Dean took their places up front. Dean turned the key and I nearly lost consciousness. The engine roared to life, filling my ears and my heart with amazement. Dean turned around, resting his arm on the back of the bench seat so that he could back out of the driveway, and he smiled at me.

“You OK?”

“No. But, yeah.” I managed a bewildered smile and looked away, trying to soak up every detail around me. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I’d ever be sitting in the Impala. Meeting Jared and Jensen, sure, that was set to happen at my first con later this year, but the car? No way. I turned and ran my hand over the door, trying to memorize the feel of the change from leather to cold metal. Then I saw it. Peeking out from the ashtray was the thing I had always hoped to see: a tiny green plastic army man stuck in the empty metal hole. I touched it gingerly and lost my cool. Suddenly I was crying, tears filling my eyes and my chest heaving as they poured down my cheeks.

Sam heard my whimpers and turned. “Beka, what’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard and wiped at my face. “What’s wrong is… I wrote this. I wrote this whole thing!” Amazed tears gave way to creeping panic as I thought out loud, working my way through the scenario. “I wrote this as a fanfiction! A whole ten part series about this! You guys showed up at my door and I went on cases with you and Dean and I fell in love and then Cas.. but I was dead! The whole point of the story was I was in a coma dying! Am I dying? Is that what’s happening? I can’t do this! This is not OK! I’m not ready to die! I have kids and a husband and a life! I don’t want to die!” My voice was too high, too loud, it rang through the car and drowned out the engine as Dean drove down my street. The same street I walked every morning taking my kids to school. The same street they rode scooters on and played with the neighbor kids. My street, in my town, in my world.

“You are not dying.” Sam’s voice was calming, though his eyes were filled with concern. He twisted around in his seat, throwing his arm around to try and take my hand. I pulled away at first, but then let him take it, needing something to ground me to whatever this reality was. “You’re not in a coma. This is happening. I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in, but it is real.” His fingers closed around mine and I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Fine,” I said after a long while. “But if I’m dead, I’m gonna kill you.”

Sam laughed and nodded, releasing my hand once he was sure I was alright. “Deal.”

The crime scene was less than a mile from my house, just down past the park, off the back highway. Dean pulled into the empty lot and parked near the back. It was dark, but I could see the reflective police tape blocking off an area to our right.

We climbed out of the car, my ears enjoying the creak of the doors as they opened and closed, just like on the show. The rain had stopped, thankfully, and we walked through puddles towards the dumpster. I hung back, following slowly behind the guys, not knowing what the hell I was doing, or what was expected of me. Dean led the way, his head turning this way and that as he scoped the environment, making sure nothing was about to jump out at us. Sam pulled away the yellow caution tape and made his way to the dumpster where the bodies had been found. There was blood on the ground and splattered across the metal trash container. It was dark, but I could see the thick mess and my stomach flipped. I’d never seen a mess like that, never even been close to a crime scene. It wasn’t exactly on my bucket list to do so.

“Find anything?” Dean asked, circling back around to join us.

“Yeah, a claw.” Sam stood up, holding out his hand. Between his fingers he held a long, sharp claw that looked like it belonged to a jungle cat.

“The fuck is that?” I gasped as I squinted at the object.

Sam shook his head as he examined the piece. “No idea. Looks like it was ripped out of whatever did this.”

“Oh that’s just delightful.” I sulked and turned away, looking out across the highway. The guys chattered behind me, passing theories back and forth, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes caught a movement in the park across the way and I stepped forward, headed to the edge of the lot so I could see better. I’m half blind, and can barely see in the dark, but I didn’t need details. There was something moving over there, something slinking through the playground. Something that moved… unnaturally.

“Guys?” I looked closer and saw another figure moving, seeming to run away from the lurking shadow. “Guys!” I called to the Winchesters, pointing towards the park, but they didn’t look up. They were deep in conversation, Sam apparently going over the archive of his mind, figuring out what we were dealing with.

A scream ripped through the night, and they finally looked up, their eyes fixing on the location of the sound.

“I tried tellin’ ya! Something’s in the park!” I yelled and they ran past me, ready to save the day. I tried to stay back, but Sam grabbed my hand, pulling me along. I had no choice but to keep up; he was too strong, his huge hand was too tight around mine. My heart pounded as we crossed the deserted highway and headed towards the fight. When our feet hit grass, Sam let me go, putting his hands on my shoulders and demanding I stay put.

“You think I’m going in there, you’re out of your mind Winchester!” I told him firmly. He gave me a quick smile and took off to help Dean.

It was hard to see in the dark, but I watched on in awe as Dean fought with the creature. Sam managed to pull the victim away and led the mystery figure to safety. Dean grunted and shouted as he beat at the monster with bare hands, their silhouettes dancing around the playground.

“You’re right Sam!” he shouted as the younger man returned. “It’s a Feletsme!”

“Crap!” Sam yelled back as he ran into the fray. “We need a brass knife!”

“I don’t happen to have one on me, Sam! Plan B?”

“Definitely brass,” Sam hollered as he dodged a swipe of claws, “Or copper?”

“Or copper?” Dean shouted, picking himself up from the ground. “Now’s not a great time to not be sure.”

I listened on, feeling scared and useless until I realized where we were. I looked to my left and gave myself a mental high five. My office was right around the corner. We had brass. And copper! I took off, running through the park towards the garage that housed my office. “Keep it busy guys, I got you!”

If either man answered me, I didn’t hear it. Blood pounded in my ears as I pumped my legs, running as fast as I could to the white building on the corner. The metal gate was down, and the door locked, but there was always a key in the mailbox. My boss had a bad habit of forgetting his shop key at home, so I always hid an extra for him. Thanking his forgetfulness, I swiftly let myself in and flipped on the lights.

I work for a plumber. My office is basically a little hole in a garage that’s filled to the brim with scrap metal, pipes, spare parts, and discarded toilets awaiting disposal. Quite frankly, it’s a mess. And it smells bad. But tonight it would prove to be priceless.

I ran to a pile of metal at the far end of the shop and dug through it, quickly pulling out the longest and sharpest looking pieces of pipe I could. Sam hadn’t been sure which metal he needed, so I grabbed copper and brass and headed back out into the night.

The sounds of their fight scene floated over to me as I ran back; grunts and growls and thwacks echoed in the air and I wondered how no one in the surrounding houses heard it. They weren’t exactly quiet.

When I made it back, Dean was hanging upside down off of the jungle gym, his knees locked around the bright blue metal as his head dangled down towards the ground. The monster, whatever it was, was looming above him, his clawed hand raised high. Sam was crumbled in a heap underneath a tree, presumably knocked out during the fight as usual.

“Dean!” I called to him and he raised his head best he could, giving me a hopeless look.

I raised the pipes in my hand and smiled. “Need some help?”

“Quit with the one-liners and toss ‘em!” he yelled, and I did as he asked, passing him the pipes in a show of hand-eye coordination that I didn’t think I had in me. Amazingly, he caught both pieces and gripped them tight, one in each hand. He swung himself upwards and jabbed the rusty pipes into the animal’s chest. It shrieked in pain, stumbling backwards and collapsing into a heap atop the jungle gym.

Dean sighed in relief and gripped the railing to pull himself up. I ran towards him and looked up “You OK?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, kicking at the creature to make sure he was dead. “Where’d you get the pipes?”

“I have my sources,” I said with a laugh. “Just be happy I pay attention at work. I could have brought you PVC.”

“Well thank God for that.”

Clean up after a hunt wasn’t something I’d ever thought about, but there we were doing it. We couldn’t leave a monster on a playground, so Sam and Dean dragged the thing back across the street and dumped it into the metal dumpster, quickly setting it on fire. I stood by, paranoid that someone would come running towards the sudden blaze, but no one came. The street was dead quiet, not a single car even passed by.

“This has got to be the most insane night of my life,” I muttered to myself, watching as Dean slammed the dumpster lid shut, extinguishing the last of the fire.

“This? This is nothing. Kinda fun actually. I haven’t been on a playground in… well, probably ever.” Dean laughed and wiped the dirt from his pants as he walked towards the car.

“I’ll have to bring you back here in the daytime, that way you could get your swing on,” I said with a sarcastic chuckle. The adrenaline from the fight had long since worn away, and I yawned as we reached the car. “Well, it’s been… weird. I think you should take me home now.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam smiled and opened my door for me.

Dean leaned against the hood and looked over at me. “I’m starving. Any place to get some grub around here?”

“Uh, yeah, there’s a diner right up the street, open all night.”

“Cool. Let’s go eat.”

“I really think you should just take me home…” I whined, exhausted and ready to wake up from this dream.

Sam smiled and rubbed my shoulder. “Come on Beka, let us buy you dinner.”

No matter how tired I was, no matter how insane and falling apart I thought I was, there was no way I could say no to those hazel eyes or that dimpled smile.

The Broadway Diner. Big, covered in neon and chrome, empty this time of night. Dean slid into the booth and took a menu from the waitress while flashing a sexy smile. I laughed at the sight and scooted into the booth across from him, Sam taking the place next to me.

“World’s best pancakes,” Dean read off the front of the menu. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

I shook my head. “Nah, you want the bacon cheeseburger, trust me.”

He grinned and nodded at Sam. “I like her.”

My phone chimed with a familiar swoosh noise and I pulled it out to see a message from Steph.

The food came quickly and we ate, enjoying the meal and talking about everything. I asked them all sorts of random questions and they answered best they could. “What was it like to be a demon?” “You do know the Men of Letters crap is gonna blow up in your faces, right?” “When you went to Purgatory, why did you bother shaving?” “How many bathrooms are in the Bunker?”

They laughed, taking my rambling inquiries in stride. Hell, if this was really happening, I was gonna get as much out of them as I possibly could.

“OK, but seriously,” I said, dropping my french fry back onto the plate and taking a deep breath. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Sam asked.

“It. Your life. How do you handle it? You guys are dying every other day, getting sent to hell and worse, always on the edge- sometimes falling off the edge- of sanity. How do you handle it? Fuck, some days I can barely get out of bed just to go to work, but you guys… I don’t know. I’d be in the looney bin.”

That killed the laughter and lighthearted conversation quickly. Sam dropped his head, his hands folding in his lap as he thought over my question. Dean let out a breath that wasn’t exactly a laugh as he smiled sadly and looked out of the window next to him.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, hating myself for being so forward. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Sam looked up and gave me a tiny half smile. Goddamn it, I’d given him sad puppy eyes. “It’s OK,” he nodded and cleared his throat. “It’s uh, it’s not easy. But we do what we have to do, ya know?” He squared his shoulders and sat up straight, trying to look tough, but failing miserably. He rested his arm on the table and looked back down. I could see the red in his eyes, and I kicked myself. I wanted to grab him and wrap my arms around him and sing him to sleep, but I couldn’t do that. He was real, not some Sam in my head that I had any rights to. So I simply placed my hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

“I’m so sorry Sam. I wish you guys didn’t have to go through what you do. It’s not fair.”

Dean piped up, pulled from his reverie by my words. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.” He stole a fry from my plate and shoved it in his mouth with a smile. “Besides, it’s not all bad. We get to travel the country, see the sights, and meet strange people like you.”

“I’m strange?” I asked with a scoff. “You live in a bunker underground and hunt monsters. I think you’ve got the monopoly on strange, sir.”

“You’re not wrong.” He winked and scooted out of the booth. He winked at me. Dean Winchester winked at me. Check that off the list of things I never thought I’d live through.

Back in my carport, the Impala idled as we said our goodbyes. It was strange, I was getting the hugs I had always dreamed of, and yet… it felt odd to say goodbye. Like we weren’t quite finished.

“So, what are you going to do now?” I asked as Dean released me from a quick squeeze.

“Eh, probably find a motel and hit the hay. See what happens tomorrow.”

“Uh, yeah… there’s only one motel near here and it’s out by the expressway and it’s really disgusting.” I shivered at the thought.

Dean laughed it off. “We’ve stayed at some pretty nasty places.”

“No, like… I wouldn’t even park my car there. It’s… please don’t. Stay here.” I paused, my mouth was way ahead of my brain and I hadn’t meant to offer, but there it was.

“Really?” Sam asked, rounding the car to stand beside me. “You don’t even know us.”

I shrugged. “Well, I kinda do. More than you know me anyway, and, I mean… Cas sent you here for a reason and we’re still not sure what that is. So, listen, my family is away till Sunday, you guys can crash here and we’ll figure things out in the morning. I can make waffles.” I grinned and looked between the boys with hopeful enthusiasm, still amazed I was making the offer.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Sam said, full dimples on display for me.

“Great!” I said, spinning around and heading towards the house.

For the life of me, I could not believe what I was doing. Put aside the fact that I was palling around with fictional characters, I had just invited two absolutely gorgeous, single men to stay the night in my house. I’m married, happily! For damn near eleven years! Yet there I was, escorting Sam and Dean Winchester up the stairs and showing them each to a bedroom. I handed them clean towels, apologized for the mess, offered them anything they’d like to eat in the fridge like a good hostess, and excused myself for the night.  

I locked my bedroom door. I never do that. I turned the little lock on my brushed nickel door knob and pressed my ear to the door, trying to listen to their movements. They seemed to shuffle around a bit, exchange a few words, and then there was silence.

I slept in my clothes just in case; afraid to even take my sneakers off. I climbed into bed and sent off a quick text to my husband.

I didn’t know how I could possibly fall asleep, but as soon as I turned off my phone, I was out.  

To Be Continued… Chapter Three

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[booksbroadwaybbc]

Don't know what to do with myself. via /r/selfimprovement

Don't know what to do with myself.

Hi. I'm 21 and still in community college, but I did get my provisional admission to this university I wanted to transfer to. I work as a runner at Din Tai Fung and I'm supposed to make bank, but I don't really know yet because I'm a new employee. Headtitle question at the bottom

I think I've lived an okay-ish life, kind of. story time, skip to the end if you dont wanna read it I come from a Korean family, can't say I remember much of my childhood except mostly being beaten and yelled at. There were good times too, but they usually ended prettily shittily. Moved around a bunch, went to a lot of schools. I've dealt with a lot of abusive stuff from both parents, but I'm not going to talk about my mom because things have gotten better and she's still here for me(?). For some extreme stuff- my dad broke my brothers toes in elementary school. In my senior year, he threatened me at knifepoint and forced it into my hands and told me to stab my brother or he would stab me. Beatings from him were pretty bad, and it's not just belts and sticks bad. I played co-ed baseball in 5th grade, so bam, there was that too. He liked to throw chairs and literally flip tables when he was angry (hes a private construction worker, so he's pretty strong). Broke a lot of his phones throwing them at us, the wall, the floor, whatever. Ive had a lot of problems with my social affairs in highschool- anxiety, being cold, being short tempered, aggressive, violent, sharp tongued. I started warming up in senior year because of this girl I dated, which was a pretty big deal because gays are not allowed in this household. And well, im bi but its the same thing to them. Can't say that went too well, because my brother found out and blackmailed me in the situation we were living in. But who cares, because siblings hate each other right? Anyways, broke up with her, broke her heart, treated her poorly and whatever two years later we made up and was able to be friends again. Back to dad- he was usually never around for things like elementary grad, middle school grad, and highschool- my mom made him come, but he sure didn't seem happy about it. In highschool, he only laid down on his phone playi ng his shitty phone games. Doesnt talk to me, doesnt talk to my brother, doesnt talk to my mom. His routine: wake up, go to work, come home, phone games, eat, phone games, sleep. If you try to talk to him, he ignores you. If you press it, he'll give you some boring answer like "go away already".

Anywho, that abusive fuck was caught cheating. Had an affair with a client's sister. Sold the house we lived in, mom moved to Newark, him to San Leandro. Mom didnt want to deal with me, so I got the boot and lived wjth acquaintances in Hayward. Couldnt afford it, so mom told me to move to San Leandro with him. I moved in with my best friend helping me and we saw the evidence. Bambam, hello lady clothing and shit. I went apeshit nuts and he tried to convince me, then threatened that I would be in big trouble if i said anything. (Parents were separated but not divorced). Alright, ill keep my big mouth shut.

I worked for his "girlfriend" at her cafe in Berkeley. Why? Well, it was easy money and i needed it to keep up with my shitty coping habits- partying and party favors, mostly e. You dont have to deal with stress if youre always out partying.

Anywho, fast forward, skip a lot of details. Mom gets a phone call one day from mutual acquaintance saying dad is sick and asks her to bring him some food. Alright. So she does because she still cares, and finds out the truth. Calls me and demands me to come right now and unlock the door- note that this is a 40 minute drive. By the time i get there, theres hella police and a window is broken and theres hella shit going on. Things settled down but being my immature ass i scream at my parents for both being immature, and they shouldve just cut things clean. I yell at my dad for being a fuckhead and cheating, you didnt raise a liar but you are one. I yell at my mom for being irresponsible and breaking things. Police grabs my shoulder but i swipe it off and bam. Im on the floor, face into concrete, chipped teeth and i cant even see where my dog is. Tbh i was more worried that he ran off because he was still a puppy and i was holding him during this whole ordeal. My glasses got knocked off my face when those two officers fucking bodyslammed me into the ground. I'm 5ft4, i weighed like 130 at this time but im just a legit smol asian girl.

What happened next? Well yknow, i got arrested and sent to jail for assaulting a police officer, nbd. Sat there for a few hours, listening to some psycho making weird noises. Finally get some call saying that my mom was waiting for me, and she bailed me out. She was crying a lot and told me that my dad didnt even bat an eye as they took me away, that he smiled and tried to fix his goddamn broken window. I believe it too, because I saw that shitty smirk on his face when i got to the scene. My mom has a bit of an uncontrollable temper so she looks psycho when the other person was the wack one. This was in January 2017.

Skip forward to the next police thing. June 2017. My mom demands that i pack all my shit and move back, and she wants to go with me. I plead no, but what am i gonna do against her? Alright, we drive and she starts saying stuff about lying and calls the bitch a slut and homewrecker and stuff, dad gets up to stand inbetween and stuff. Tells her to move than basically shoves her across the living room towards the door. **insert hysteria and bam again, screaming and each other, his hands on her, me trying to squeeze my body in between them and get his hands off of her. Doesnt really work cos he turns on me, hits me away and goes back to beat her. My screaming doesnt really help either, but i try what I can to claw his arms off of her. Nooooo, bad idea, but better me than her. He grabs me and my head is locked into his elbow so I bite down, arm. Baaaad idea again, but its in self defense imo. Im just trying to help my mom. He p much beats me up into a pulp her, grabs my shirt all the way up and yikes thats embarassing. The struggle goes on and eventually its calm again because slutface is like "honey staph"- note: only words and no actions to get close, buuuut, it works. Me and mom move to my room and start removing all my weebshit from the walls. Mom is muttering and saying a bunch of bs for him to hear and he storms into the room because hes fucking triggered and start the violence again. Oh but this is where i do the fun thing- i lunge myself at him so im like on top of him but holy shit, he legit pulls me off of him and throws me against the wall cabinets, and two hand chokes me, with his knees on my chest. Mom starts screaming at him, claws his face and soon the police are here and shit. Bitch called the police, and this is where it gets more fucked up. I legally live here, its on my license. I came back to move out, so its okay for me to be here, because i came to pack my stuff and take whats mine. So why exactly did the police not believe me? Why did my mom get arrested for putting dumb scratches on his face when he beat us, with pictures - that day- to prove that he inflicted more wounds on us. We were just defending ourselves. He put his hands on us first. Anyways, that starts my worries cos im like. Im 20, but idk what to do. How do i find money to bail my mom out? How do i even do that in the first place? But i managed.

Anywho skip forward, jackass is no longer in my life, tho i have to deal with him through my brother from time to time. Parents officially divorced Feb 2018. I've lived with my mom, she bought a cafeteria for a little bit so I worked there. Things were really hard because my mom had a lot of pent up anger that she would take out on me. My brother moved out because he went to university so he didnt really have to deal with much. Im also the older child, so bam. Anyways, we fought a lot. A LOT LOT. Like apeshit crazylot. I took a lot of beatings. It was like the weekend before Christmas of 2017 where a took a huge beating and ran away from my problems by going to my now-ex's house. He offered me to move in with him and his family, so I did. I had the choice of going back to my moms lifestyle and attempt to make up, or trying to live a different life. I lived with him from like Christmas to March 2018. We started having a lot of problems because he regret inviting me, he wasnt ready to give up his personal space and I was done babysitting someone who was older than me. Doing his laundry, doing his dishes, cleaning his room. I was done with being bored, never going out, being ignored while he did the same thing my dad did. Sit on his phone and not speak a word. Yeah, there were good times too, but they seem so fleeting when it seeps in with your own personal trauma of being ignored. Btw- when i moved to his place, my brother moved back home to fill the gap, but my brother is better with dealing with my mom and she doesnt blow up at him.

After I moved back, it was better. Yeah, shit went down sometimes but i guess overall it was better? My mom cried a lot. I would hear her talk on the phone with her family members in Korea and cry about how she was tired of everything and didn't want to do it anymore. I know exactly how that feels. Well, in the later months of 2018, we got along better and havent really had those blowups. I tried my best to stay home more instead of going out at night because she hated it. I tried to be nicer to her and more compromising. She's in Korea rn and things suck. During the whole parents thing, it sucks to feel like your parents are passing you to each other likea toy they dont want. It sucks to not really feel familial love growing up, where mom is just doing things because shes supposed to and dad just flat out pretends you dont exist. It sucks that it takes two years of partying, drugs and cons to find out

Submitted October 31, 2018 at 10:33AM by xfirelily via reddit https://ift.tt/2CRsVBn