#thanks for making me think in depth about how pathetic and lonely i am after id finally gotten it to not be a constant thought

[goldrushrunning]

nothing like your mom prying about your mental health during a car ride causing you to have a breakdown and fucking up the progress youd made haha

[majinbangus]

I literally just wanted a sugar daddy/mama!au. Maybe I'll talk about sugar daddies!141 x sugar baby!reader after this. I am not an expert in sugaring, so bear w me here. readers age is not told either, but i imagine reader to be younger than price.

Times are tough; the 141 need funding the government isn't willing to cough up. Price's solution? Getting them a sugar mama.

-

You never expected your profile to be picked. It was a silly thing you signed up for in a moment of weakness when you were feeling sad and lonely, wallowing after a messy break up. You even forgot about it after a week, throwing yourself in your self-made business, working when you didn't have to, but you needed to bury yourself in it. It's no surprise you forgot all about your little profile, but it is a surprise when you see a missed inquiry from a Mr. John Price about a day old.

Hello, darling. I've never been on this side of the message before, but my boys and I don't have many options, and I needed a solution fast. I saw your profile and I think you'd be a good match for us. We're a package deal, the four of us. You don't have to pay us exactly, we just need some funding for our work. My boys and I are willing to provide you with any type of company you desire. We don't mind sharing and we take care of what's ours. There are other little details we can go more in depth later, although I might not be able to tell you everything. I'd like to hear what you have to say and any questions you may have. Hope to hear from you soon, Capt. John Price

Everything about the message is... strange... to put it kindly, but you can't help but feel this Capt. John Price is being sincere. Maybe that's a naive, lonely part of you that's convincing yourself that the message is real and not some scam. Maybe you're desperate enough to believe someone- four someone's!- actually have an interest in you.

For what you can give them, but you're not entirely innocent either. This Captain Price- you assume he's military- said he and his boys will give you what you need, and if he's a man of his word, maybe they can distract you from all the noise in your head.

You stare at the message. It wouldn't hurt to take a risk, would it? You can always block the man if he ends up being a creep.

It takes you an hour to finally work up the nerve to craft a small message back to the man. It takes less than a minute for him to respond.

Glad to hear from you, darling. I'll tell you everything you need to know.

-

The rules are simple.

You fund them with enough money each month they need it for however long they need, and they'll give you all the companionship you want. Whether that's sexual or not is up to you. It doesn't matter to them, though John informed you that if it is sexual, you would need to discuss any limits with the other men yourself. With him, you got to briefly stutter through your likes and dislikes, and he did the same, after discussing all of the rules and expectations.

You don't know if you should be thankful or not when he listened with such intense focus. Like you were briefing him on a mission or whatever it is captains like him do. It makes you nervous. He makes you nervous. Not quite in a bad way, but you've never done this before. The idea of paying another person, well this task force, in exchange for some company to fill your pathetic void feels kind of... sad.

You almost talk yourself out of this whole crazy thing, but you're also kind of curious what could come of it. If John and his boys will really be able to distract you and make you forget how lonely you are.

Being alone, being lonely, never really bothered you before, but after your last relationship... It opened up some old wounds and this sugar arrangement could be the perfect distraction. If only for a while. You'll take whatever you can get at this point.

You look over the messages John sent you, lingering over the pictures he sent of him and the other three men. Well. Two men. John told you this Simon guy would show you his face himself if he wanted to. You don't know if it's a sexual thing or not or something else entirely. You were too afraid to ask, and you don't really know if you want to know. But the other three are handsome, if the pictures John sent aren't fake.

You're still not entirely sure you should trust him. Trust that you're not gonna get all your money stolen. The site you signed up on is reputable for sugar mamas and sugar babies. You couldn't find a bad review written about it. Only positive testimonies with positive outcomes. That could be suspicious in and of itself. Hopefully, you didn't make a mistake.

John said that he would meet you next week when he had time off. Alone. In a public space, but alone. He said he didn't want the boys to overwhelm you, and you're grateful for his consideration because you would have been overwhelmed if you met all of them at once.

You still have time to cancel, if the nerves get to you and you chicken out. John even told you you could back out any time you wanted. But. You want to do something different. You need to do something different. Get yourself out of your head and focus on anything else that doesn't make your mind feel like static.

These men can help with that. This'll be good for you. Probably.

As long as this doesn't end up with you mysteriously disappearing or getting murdered, you'll be content with whatever happens. Besides, it's good to do something out of your comfort zone, and what better way than becoming a sugar mama to four military men who can give you all the company and care you could ever want? Hell, that sounds weird to think about.

There are still little things you have to work around, such as their schedules, but John promised that at least one of them would always come when you called. Already, that gives you more comfort than he could ever know, and perhaps that's foolish of you, but it truly meant a lot when he told you that.

You scroll down to the last message John sent and feel something in your gut flutter.

Can't wait to meet you, Mama.

-

this might an anthology of sorts. maybe have some loose plot to it. idk.

[justimagineit26]

You.

This time last year we were getting ready for Chistmas. We were going to the tree farm, getting Christmas decorations, gifts and doing things I had not done as an adult for the holiday. We would casually talk about getting married, having adventures, doing all the things we wanted to do together. And now here I am, stuck in a situationship that I honestly don't think either of us sees going anywhere. It's not serious. It's not even just there for the sex. There isn't much that comes from it aside from us both having someone to occupy our free time. He's a good guy, nice guy. But he doesn't want anything serious. And thank God for that because I don't either. Not with him. Not with anyone. Not anyone who isn't you. I stopped thinking about my future because I still can't see it without you. If you were to show up at my door with a ring in hand asking me to marry you, I wouldn't think twice. If you came to me and told me what a huge mistake we made and that you never stopped loving me, I would take you in my arms and never let you go. I fear that this is how it will always be. I will live my life, I will move forward, I will meet men and enjoy their company. I will love things about them but I will never love them. Because my love was not made for them. My love was made for you. The things I have to give, the love I want to give... it's in that part of me that only you have seen. You spoke to me in a language only we understood. I no longer have hope that you will come back to me. But you still come to me in my dreams. You're still a face in every crowd I look in to. You are still on my mind when I'm happy, when I'm sad. When life changes, you are still who I want to call. To celebrate with, to cry with. When I hear a terrible joke, it still takes self control to not reach out to you.

I have no doubt that you have built up your wall and steeled yourself to me. That is how you defend yourself. You allow yourself to become cold because you don't want to hurt. I still remember the crack in your voice when you told me that you hated the fact that you still loved me. There was resentment and hatred. You hated me and you loved me. You stopped embracing the love for me and you opened your arms to that hate. I'm not sure if you've been able to let that go. Part of me hopes so. But the alternative would be you feeling nothing at all for me and just the thought of that destroys me. Will it always be this way for me? Will I always be that woman that holds on to every bit of you that I can? Will I die an old woman and my family find all these old writings about my unwavering love for you? And then it everything about me starts to make sense. That I was always lonely even if I wasn't alone. Because no matter the person, they couldn't hold a candle to you. And then they discover the sadness and pain I continued to live in after losing the man that broke the very best parts of me.

I have accepted the fact that I may never feel that fire again. That although I may find a nice man to eventually settle down with, I will never feel the passion, the spark, the depth that I felt with you. I have also accepted that I may never settle down with anyone ever. That I may truly end up alone. Because it's you. It's been you since the day I met you. Seeing you in that parking lot. Jeans, boots and a band t and those purple aviators. I knew you would be the one person who could break me. And break me you did.

It's almost been a year since you ended this part of our journey. A year and here I am. Still madly and hopelessly and pathetically and poetically in love with you.

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Eight)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) mentions of sex, someone gets punched by someone,

Notes: Enjoy this chapter guys:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room you are in is as cold and empty as you feel. The one single table with 3 chairs, 2 on one side and the one you are currently occupying across from them. The room feels chilling like ghosts haunt it. Maybe they do, you think. The silence is truly deafening and the wait for these 2 other chairs to be filled makes you anxious. It’s been a few months since you have been back here and it makes you uncomfortable each time but you know little by little you are receiving answers.

Finally, after a long wait the heavy door to the room screeches open. And in comes a man and woman in professional clothing—he in a suit and the woman in a dress suit. They smile at you awkwardly like they feel pity. They both pull out their chair and take a seat.

��Have you found it yet? The island?” you’re quick to blurt out and they nervously look at one another before frowning.

“It isn’t that easy unfortunately Miss y/l/n. We’ve been in search of this company for over 50 years.” The woman taps her fingers on the table. “We have yet to find them or this island you speak of.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you as you roll your eyes to the side.

“What kind of intel agency is this? You can’t even find some lame ass fucking love company.” You spit out.

The man hardens his eyes at you as he takes a long, deep breath. Obviously trying to gather his patience.

“Here’s what we do know.” He begins. “They tapped your home, your cell, all of your accounts and spied on you for over a year. Doing their…” he pauses, biting his lip. “Research…”

“And drugged you and your parents the night of the kidnapping.” The woman picks up where he left off, “And then they drugged you again to return you home and also your parents…assuming so it wasn’t to wake them while they were in your home…” she gulps…she understands how invasive this all is.

“You didn’t think to set up cameras around my parent’s house? For when they would return me? You didn’t think to keep an eye—”

“We did.” The man clears his throat, “But they….” He drags his hand down his tired face, “This company is smart. They obviously know what they are doing. The night of your return the cameras we had set up miraculously stopped working.”

You can’t help the laughter that erupts from your body. You begin shaking your head in disbelief, your laughter dying when you realize how serious this is.

“This is fucking bullshit.” You say with a tight lip smile. “Anyway…do you…do you guys…did you look into what I asked of you?” your eyes slide to the side as you nervously pull at the ends of your hair.

“The man you were with? Kim Taehyung…yes, we looked into it. We have been working with Korea’s intel in hopes to solve this case. He has been working together with them. I cannot release any personal information though.” The woman eyes her partner and her frown deepens. “Miss y/l/n…I know this is difficult and you two have been through a lot together. But I am sure you can find a way to reach out—”

“I just wanted to know how he is doing is all.” You cut her off, “It’s fine.”

~~~~~

You stare at the letter in your hands, it’s an off white color and the font in quite fancy. Your parents let you see it a few weeks after you returned home but every night you take it in your hands and stare at it. Not knowing how to take it. The company sent it to them the day you disappeared…explaining the company’s goals. They sent photos of you and Taehyung every week to prove you were alive and well. Your parents said this is what kept them sane…trusting you were okay because they couldn’t—wouldn’t accept any other reality.

Your heart aches thinking of what your parents must have been through but not just them…your sister found out through your mom and dad about the situation and she grew so worried without you. When she found out you were returned home she immediately came to you, sobbing in your arms and hasn’t left you since.

You set the letter down and pick up the pile of photos on your night stand…it’s a thick stack. You begin shuffling through them and you feel like someone has stabbed you in the chest with a dull knife and they begin to carve your heart out. It’s slow and painful…they finally take your slow beating heart and squeeze it in their hands, blood spilling and spilling. Killing you.

Some photos are just of you but majority you are accompanied by Taehyung and seeing his smiling face makes you relieve the experience of getting your heart carved out of your chest.

You glance up at your ceiling as tears begin building in your eyes, you try to blink them back, your eyes opening and closing repeatedly. But it’s no use, not when you feel this lost and hopeless. Suddenly, there is knocking on your bedroom door and your father is walking in.

“Ready sweetie? Got the rest of your things?” He steps into the room, a worried expression on his face but he tries to hide it behind a forced smile. “We should get going.”

You quickly sniffle and nod your head, shoving the stack of photos and letter into your backpack before you’re swinging it over your shoulders.

“Yup, ready.”

It’s moving day. Thankfully you found another job in your old town that you lived in, you found a new, better apartment that is close to where you use to live, you finally are getting out of your parents hair.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road!” your dad pats you on the back as you walk past him. He’s got the truck loaded and ready to go for the couple hour drive. Back to the city!

~

“This place is so much nicer than your last!” Your sister sets a box down on your new kitchen counter, “You actually have a decent sized kitchen! Not that you really cook.” She laughs.

“Hey!” you whine, “I told you I learned quite a bit of cooking while on the island.”

“You also told me that your boyfriend cooked a lot too…so I’ll just assume he did all the work.” She teases and your face falls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” Your lips curls so far down that it’s almost comical but alas, it is not because you feel your eyes sting.

“Sorry…” your sister walks to the living room, joining you. She reaches for the box in your arms and sets it down on the floor. “y/n…just message him.”

“…I can’t.” you feel your chest start to burn, “The way things got left…I don’t know how to speak to him.” you admit. “and it’s been so long. If he hasn’t already moved on then he at least hates my guts.”

“Yeah I probably would too.” Your sister nods her head and you swat her arm.

“Thanks Ellie.” You deadpan. “Anyway, I just can’t.”

“He is probably waiting for you…he loves you.”

“You don’t know him?” you laugh quietly, “So how would you know?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of you two, in the moment pictures, and dude, he looks so taken with you in every single one.”

You can’t help the way your heart drops to your stomach. You told him you thought your feeling may not be real…those are some of your last words to him and that kills you. Without a doubt he has had to have moved on from you…why would he torture himself?

~

Later that night you are snuggled up in your bed with your sister snoozing beside you. You have your phone (Damn you missed this device) and are scrolling through Taehyung’s Instagram. You notice he posted a new group photo just 4 hours ago. You look at all the tags and see all his friends…Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin and Jungkook. But there are also a few girls in the photo. You notice the tag for Hana. You hate that your heart completely stops beating in your chest then suddenly starts racing. Hana. He’s hanging out with Hana? Wait, why are you surprised? You take a deep breath and click her name to view her page and then that’s when your heart really stops. Her most recent photo is of her and Taehyung, their faces smooshed together with wide smiles on their faces with the caption “Missed you.” With pink hearts.

She’s pretty. Really fucking pretty. No wonder Taehyung liked her. Liked? Or likes? Are they together now? They look awfully close. You feel your eyes sting for the millionth time this day and they begin to bubble with tears. This is your fault. You pushed him away, so far away, into another woman’s arms. You start to feel lost and hopeless again…you decide stalking Taehyung through social media probably isn’t the healthiest thing for you or your heart. You continue scrolling on Hana’s page…she has lots of photos with friends, pretty Korean scenery, selfies and more. She looks lively and beautiful, oh so fucking beautiful.

You exit the app and click your phone off. You squeeze your eyes shut and a few pathetic tears that you do not deserve slide out and down your face. You really need to move on, you really need to focus on you. But how can you when a huge part of you feels like it’s been ripped from you? Taehyung was a part of you and you think he still is. You feel crushed, fucking crushed. He is probably with Hana now and you absolutely cannot blame him.

Taehyung is doing fine. Just fine. With or without you. And that reality is setting in and it hurts. It fucking hurts. But you have no one to blame but yourself.

“Why are you doing this, huh? Things were so perfect.” He stops in front of you and pulls you up by the arms. Your chests almost touch from how close you are. “Unless…” he looks down at his feet, “You’re saying all of this because that’s how you feel. You’re the one unsure of your feelings. You’re the one who only likes me—loves me—because there’s no one else.” He looks into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Maybe.” You finally say. And you wish you didn’t because Taehyung releases a shaky breath and his brows crease together as he forms the saddest smile you have ever seen. The canvas of his life is full of beautiful bright colors but you continue to splatter blue and grey paint all over it. The paint mixes together and drips down, a gloomy mess.

“Oh.” He steps back. “I see.” He takes another step back, carding his fingers through his hair. He looks into your eyes as his gloss over, “I’ll leave you alone then.” And he turns around and walks out of the room, leaving you behind.

Why does this scene replay in your mind every single day. Every single night. His sad, sad expression leaving an ever lasting imprint in your mind. You feel broken, but you also feel angry. How dare the company send you back when you and Taehyung have so much to resolve? What is the purpose? What are their intentions? You ball the sheets in your hands as you release breath after frustrated breath. What was the point of all this? Somewhere deep in your gut you feel like this isn’t over. You feel like the company still has some ties to you…you can’t explain it…just a gut feeling.

To say you hate yourself is an understatement. You truly can’t stand to even look yourself in the mirror. You ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you—Taehyung. But you should be happy, right? He’s doing well. He has his friends, his family, Hana. He is absolutely 100% doing just fine and you have to accept that.

~~~~~

“You can’t live like this dude.” Namjoon throws a trash bag on to Taehyung’s bed, signaling him to use it.

“Yeah…Joon is right.” Jimin starts picking up some trash off the floor…mostly empty food containers. “This is getting out of hand. I know things haven’t been easy—”

Jimin is cut off with Taehyung groaning loudly and dramatically. He lifts his head off his pillow, his face evident with sleep as he eyes his two friends in his apartment.

“Get up.” Namjoon lightly kicks the bed with his foot, “And open a damn window or something.”

“And maybe take a shower. You reek of this hangover I am sure you have…” Jimin sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand going to Taehyung’s back, rubbing it soothingly. “She isn’t coming around Tae.” Jimin says as softly as possible, “She isn’t—”

“We don’t know that.” Taehyung cuts him off, grumbling. “She could.”

“You said it yourself, she isn’t sure of her feelings…why aren’t you letting it go?” Namjoon sits down on the bed as well.

“I know her.” Taehyung begins to sit up from his place in bed, his hand flying up to his pounding head. “Fuck. I’m hungover.” He complains.

“You went too hard last night.” Jimin frowns, “Again.”

“So what? You think she lied to you? That she does love you?”

“She was just scared.” Taehyung whispers. “Trust me, I know her.” He repeats again.

Jimin and Namjoon share a look of pity mixed with concern. Jimin stands from the bed, taking the trash bag with him, he opens it up and starts filling it with the garbage around the apartment. Taehyung just watches Jimin clean up and he starts to feel a sense of guilt. Maybe he has been a handful the last few months.

Taehyung is trying his best though.

The unfamiliar bed along with the unfamiliar room was indication enough that Taehyung was in a place without you. It only took him halves of seconds to realize he was in his parents’ home in their spare room. A place he didn’t frequent very often. But he understood his situation right away. The island returned him home to Korea but suddenly this place feels like the last place like home.

When he made his existence known to his mother and father they cried over and over for their son. His father going on about his regrets, how he wishes he would have supported Taehyung more in following his own dreams and so on. His mother wishing she had cooked his favorite meal more often. They basically took his disappearance on the island as his death. At least that’s how Taehyung sees it.

His parents’ received the letter as well, even the photographs. They know all about you. They know that Taehyung is in love, they know Taehyung heart aches. They know everything. They were honestly rooting for you two…they could see how much love went on between the two of you even through pictures.

But as the days went on, as the weeks went on and as the months went on, Taehyung started to feel like he is withering away with every day that passed that you did not reach out to him. Did your time on the island with him mean nothing to you? Even if you ‘maybe’ weren’t in love with him like you claimed you were still friends for god’s sake. You still without a doubt had a powerful connection.

Things have been hard. Really fucking hard. But nothing is harder than the day when the Korean intel agency notified him that you were good, that you were okay. That you were home. But they could not release any personal information. You were home…you were okay…but you still have not reached out? He’s relieved you’re well but that also comes with the disappointment that you are choosing to stay to yourself.

“Yoongi wants to work on that new song tonight, what do you say?” Namjoon stands from the bed as well and makes his way into the small kitchen for a glass of water.

“Not in the mood.” Taehyung mumbles underneath his breath.

“Listen Taehyung…” Namjoon walks back into the room, his hands crossed over his chest as he looks at Taehyung with narrowed eyes.

“If you’re serious about this, being with her, that is. Then fucking do something about it.” Namjoon continues to stare down at him while Jimin keeps cleaning.

“I don’t have her number, I can’t find her anywhere on the internet and I barely know where she lives. What the fuck can I do?” Taehyung grits out, raising his voice just the slightest as he talks.

“….There has to be something.” Jimin speaks up. “A clue.”

“A fucking clue? What are we? Fucking detectives?” Taehyung throws his hands up, frustrated.

“Jimin’s right.” Namjoon uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his hair, “She must have mentioned something, anything. You have to think.”

“You think I have the mental capability to think right now?” Taehyung questions with a bitter chuckle. “She doesn’t do much. She never mentioned some grand event she goes to every year, she didn’t mention what school she went to, she didn’t mention what company she worked for, she didn’t fucking mention anything. She stays to herself.” Then Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“You know I use to go to this coffee place almost every single day. I miss it. That routine. It’s called ------------…a small, family owned shop. Only one of its kind. I would read, write, journal. Just relax. Every day.” You breathe out, missing your comfort spot.

Taehyung rushes to stand from the bed, he is quick to scoop Jimin up in his arms and place a dramatic kiss to his cheek.

“Jimin you fucking genius!” Taehyung suddenly remembered the night you had a panic attack. When you calmed down enough to speak you told him all the things you missed about your real life. Including some coffee place you would frequent on the regular. But he cannot remember the name of it for the life of him.

“What? What?” Jimin starts giggling, “Why?”

“A coffee shop! She used to go to a coffee shop!” Taehyung basically yells in excitement.

“Okay, what’s it called?” Namjoon smiles and immediately Taehyung expression turns sour.

“I…I don’t remember. But it was family owned, only one of its kind.”

Namjoon can’t help the frown that decorates his face but then he tries to smile.

“Better start doing your research lover boy.”

~

“Cozy Coffee. It’s in (Your city).” Taehyung slams a sheet of paper onto the bar top in front of Namjoon. “I found it.”

“What’d you find?” Jin asks from besides him, “Wait that place y/n goes to?”

Taehyung nods his head quickly with a wide ass smile adoring his face.

“Yup.”

“Now what, kid?” Yoongi brings his beer to his lips as he takes a generous sip. “You going to call that place and ask for her?” he laughs a little.

“No.” Taehyung straightens his back as he speaks. “I’m going there.”

“You’re…” Hobi begins but stops when he sees how serious Taehyung is.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jungkook starts shaking his head. “This girl—”

“y/n.” Taehyung snaps.

“Right…” Jungkook gulps. “y/n…she ignores you these last 6 months and you are still trying to be with her?”

All of the boys share looks with one another, frowns on everyone’s faces.

“Jungkook is right—”

“Tae told her he would do whatever it takes…he also believes in her feelings. So let’s believe in him.” Jimin cuts in, his hand going to Taehyung’s shoulder and giving him a smile.

“Jimin is right…” Namjoon breathes out, “Let’s trust in our Taehyungie.”

“But don’t forget what she did to you Taehyung.” Jungkook whispers seriously. “You weren’t okay…”

Another day passes and still, nothing from you. Taehyung brings yet another bottle of soju to his mouth as he starts downing it. He feels his world collapsing around him. He feels how everything around him is cracking and breaking apart. But the most cracked, broken thing is him. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares into his empty eyes, these same eyes that used to gaze at you. These same eyes that saw your smile, laugh, cry. These same eyes that undressed you. These same eyes that saw you coming undone over and over. These same eyes.

Taehyung chugs back his drink, his eyes never leaving his reflection as he finishes the bottle. He made a mistake tonight, a drunken mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He slept with Hana. Taehyung, the boys and Hana and her girlfriends were all at the bar tonight and he just doesn’t see her that way. Yet, he was inside her just an hour ago. He slowly closes his eyes, regret and guilt filling his entire being. What the fuck did he do?

His life is all over the place, a mess, if you will. A big, fat messy mess. He got a new apartment, leaving his parents’ house and he doesn’t think he has cleaned it even once since moving in. He drowns in alcohol, he drowns in unfinished songs, he drowns in his friends concerns and mostly? He drowns in you.

He stares at your photographs an unhealthy amount. He has cried over your photos countless times, he has touched himself to them too. Somehow that is more satisfying than the sex he just shared with Hana. The empty fuck he just gave her haunts him in this very mirror. Did he betray you? Have you also fucked someone new? Have you moved on?

Taehyung stares at himself, hating what he sees. You’re doing this to him. He went from being miserably depressed to angry. He’s beginning to blame you for everything with rage. But as much as he wants to hate you—he does want to—he just can’t. He can’t gather that type of energy in your direction. He just can’t.

Hana looks very pretty tonight…she’s been trying extra hard lately, Taehyung thinks. She is always casually got a hand on his arm, she always finds a way to be standing next to him, talking to him, leaning into him. Taehyung isn’t stupid. She wants him still. She apparently dated during the 8 months he was gone but nothing serious came from it. And now here she is, sleeping on his bed as he drinks by himself in his bathroom mirror.

So many different thoughts have gone through Taehyung’s head. Is he hard to love? That’s the main question that came out of all of this. You spent every day with him for 8 months and you weren’t even sure of your feelings. Shouldn’t a person know by then? He’s trying to be understanding…he is trying so fucking hard to understand but how can he? When he is balls deep in love with you and he doesn’t have to question it at all.

He is spiraling, he is being sucked into a darkness that he can’t crawl out of. He looks at himself in the mirror again, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection—disgusted with what he sees. He grips the empty bottle of soju as he feels his eyes wet with tears. He grips on to the bottle harder and harder, tears now leaving his big brown eyes. He growls out, groaning in frustration as he lifts the bottle up and throws it at his mirror. Glass shattering everywhere.

Startled, Hana jumps from the bed and rushes to the loud sound, finding Taehyung just standing lifeless, continuing to eye himself in the broken mirror. He likes what he sees much better. The cracked glass making for a better reflection, a more accurate representation of what he truly sees when he views himself.

“What the fuck?!” Hana yells out, rushing to Taehyungs side. “Are you okay???”

Taehyung walks closer to the mirror and lightly slides his hand down the cracked mirror, his fingers careful not to get cut.

“No.” he answers honestly and quietly. “I’m not.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” Taehyung assures him, “At least I will be…when I see her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” Yoongi says quietly, worried for his friend. He brings his beer to the bar top and stares at the liquid.

“I’ll get to that when I get to that.” Taehyung sighs out…”I can’t let go of this until I know for sure.”

~~~~~~

Settling into your new job has been smooth, thankfully. It’s only been a few weeks but you can say you really like it. Your boss is an older woman, your coworkers seem nice and the work isn’t too taxing. Your apartment is starting to come together as well, only a few more boxes left to unpack. On the outside things are honestly going well…your life looks normal and put together. But on the inside you continue to fall apart.

“Come on!” Ellie whines, “Just give me one little, tiny, juicy detail.”

“Ew, no!” you laugh, “I have nothing to share!”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ellie takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke the other direction.

You two are sitting on your balcony, watching the evening sun set.

“You are trying to tell me you two didn’t fuck? Not even once?” Ellie gives you a knowing smile and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay maybe once.”

“I call bullshit again.” Ellie starts to laugh, thrusting her hips forward theatrically, “I bet you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Something like that.” You admit shyly.

“I don’t blame you. He looks so hot.” Ellie takes another puff of her cigarette. “What was he like in bed?”

“Ugh, Ellie.” You groan, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Afraid of getting horny thinking about it?” She chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you one thing.” You hold one finger up, giving her a look that says you are serious. Ellie giggles, nodding her head in agreement.

“He’s…big.” You basically whisper.

“He’s what?”

“Shut up, you heard me.” You laugh, “First time I saw it he wasn’t even fully hard and I was impressed.” You smirk, feeling proud of Taehyung’s gorgeous dick.

“Damn girl. Nice.” Ellie nods in approval, “Did he know how to use it?”

“Ugh….yes.” you roll your eyes back, remembering the feel of his cock. “He did. Aaaannnd he is probably using it on his new girlfriend.” You sigh, feeling your heart break piece by piece in your chest.

“What? What do you mean???” Ellie puts her cigarette out in the ash tray, “New girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” You keep it short and simple. “Anyway, I really do not want to talk about him anymore.”

“…Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

You give your sister a sad, small smile and she returns it. You feel your phone buzz in your lap and you go to pick it up, you quite literally feel all the color drain from your face. Your heart stops completely. What the actual fuck? Why is he texting you? Him of all people?

~

Finally gathering the courage to buy his plane ticket, Taehyung begins packing for his trip. He got a roundtrip flight for one week. He has one week to find you. He’s starting to get nervous, really fucking nervous. He had all this confidence to do this but honestly? Over the last 6-7 months he has become quite insecure. You left him in shambles. He grew weak without you, he grew pathetic in his eyes.

“Make sure you bring plenty of underwear.” Jimin teases, helping Taehyung pack. “You never pack enough and somehow end up going commando.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Taehyung is too nervous to even joke around, he is too nervous to even look at Jimin—his best friend—for more than a second because he is afraid he is going to see right through him.

“You’re nervous.” Jimin blurts out and Taehyung opens his mouth in shock. But should he be? Jimin is his best friend, he can read him like a book.

“Yeah…”

“I think you have every right to be.” Jimin pats him on the shoulder, “You have been through a lot…and so much is unknown.”

“Yeah….” Taehyung agrees, “I feel like I’m walking into this blind.”

“You kind of are.” Jimin admits quietly. “You kind of are.”

“Do you think…I’m making a mistake?” Taehyung sits down on his bed, messing with the blanket between his fingers.

“No.” Jimin answers honestly. “I am probably the one who has heard about y/n the most. I almost feel like I know her.” Jimin laughs, “And I think you’re right. She was scared. This company…fuck that company by the way, this company set you two up and tried to force love on you. Of course that’s going to fuck her up. Of course she is going to have her doubts…you can’t blame her Tae. Yeah, it’s fucked up she hasn’t reached out at all but dude…it’s a tricky situation.”

“I know…” Taehyung’s head falls into his hands, “Fuck…I know.”

“And…” Jimin sits down next to him, “I don’t want you to regret not looking for her, it sucks that it’s you doing everything, I can admit that. I wish she would grow some fucking balls and talk to you but looks like you got to do all the work buddy.”

“Yeah.”

~

Taehyung checks into some dingy hotel downtown in the city you live, the place is dark, gritty even. But it’s just one of the first places that was affordable that popped up when he was googling places to stay. He doesn’t totally mind, he doubts he will be spending much time in here. He receives his key from the girl at the front desk, she eyes him up and down, obviously liking what she sees.

Taehyung walks down a dark hallway to reach his room—he’s starting to feel like the main character in a horror movie. He reaches his door and unlocks it, opening it and shuffling inside with his luggage. The room smells dusty, the bed is small and the blanket thin. The room is loud with the AC unit blowing freezing air and the dark curtains don’t let in any light whatsoever.

He sets his luggage down on the carpet and sits on the bed…he takes his phone out and sends a text to his group chat that he made it alive.

Namjoon 4:02pm

Good luck man, we’re rooting for you.

Jungkook 4:02pm

Fingers crossed homie

Jin 4:03pm

Bring her back to Korea

Yoongi 4:03pm

He can’t just bring her back Jin

Hobi 4:03pm

I also vote he brings her back with him

Jimin 4:04pm

I agree, I want to meet the infamous y/n

Taehyung 4:04pm

Am I also allowed to vote that I want to bring her back with me?

Taehyung quietly laughs to himself as he clicks his phone off. He lays back on the bed and groans when he feels how hard the mattress is. But it doesn’t matter because he is here on a mission, a mission to find you and he wants to waste no time.

~

Day 1:

Taehyung wakes up early to grab a bite to eat at the diner next to the hotel, this place doesn’t even offer complimentary breakfast! The audacity. He orders pancakes but they definitely aren’t as good as yours.

Waking up and breathing the same city air you’re breathing makes Taehyung for the first time in 6 months—feel alive. Like being in the same place as you is slowly helping him regain some of his self back. He knows you are here. You live here. You walk these streets, you eat these foods, you breathe this air. The same fucking air he is breathing.

Nothing excites him and makes him more nauseas. He misses you. He wants to see you. But he is afraid at the same time. He’s so fucking terrified. How will you react? Are you okay? Do you really not love him? Have you moved on? Seeing someone new? His mind races as he cuts into these pancakes.

Taehyung pulls out his phone and checks the time…almost 7 am. He needs to hurry to the coffee place…because what if you stop by there on your way to work? Or maybe you don’t work right now and you go there just to chill? He doesn’t know but he knows he won’t miss a chance to see you.

Taehyung finishes up his plate of food and pays. He leaves the diner and starts walking towards Cozy Coffee, only a 15 minute walk. He inhales deeply, hoping to somehow get a whiff of you, he looks at all the flowers on the side of the sidewalks and thinks of you. Would you be interested in a bouquet of flowers? He recalls on your first unofficial first date he gave you a handful of flowers from the island and you liked it. Ugh, what is he thinking? All he needs to be worried about right now is fucking finding you.

Finally, Taehyung makes his way inside Cozy Coffee. It’s a pretty small place but big enough for a handful of people to be occupying the many tables. His eyes scan the area but they don’t come across you. He sighs and heads towards the counter to order a tea and take a seat at a table in the back near the restrooms.

He spends hours here in this spot. The entire day actually. No sign of you. And the owner has to literally escort him out when it is closing time. He walks back to the hotel with his head hanging low, he guesses today wasn’t a day for reading or writing.

Day 2:

These pancakes aren’t bad actually, not the second time around. Yours are still better, of course but he’s getting use to them. Maybe tomorrow he should try something different.

Taehyung walks leisurely towards the coffee shop, he somehow has this idea he might run into you on the street or something. But he doesn’t.

The coffee shop is a little less busy today, Taehyung goes inside, orders his tea and occupies the same table as yesterday. He pulls his backpack to his lap and brings out a notebook and pen, he decides he will work on song lyrics today.

Hours and hours pass, tea after tea is drank and still, no sign of you. Closing time approaches and he is once again, asked to leave. Taehyung nods in understanding, gathers his belongings and walks back to the hotel. Slowly of course, because deep down he thinks he just might run into you.

Day 3:

French toast today…not as good as the pancakes but still, pretty good. He wonders if you can make French toast? You never mentioned it. Taehyung realizes there is still so much he does not know about you. The thought kind of drives him crazy. He wants to know you. Know all of you. Know you better than anyone else.

The walk to the coffee shop is slow and enjoyable. The scenery is pretty as he strolls on the sidewalk, the flowers poking through the cement bring him a small level of joy for the day. Once he enters the shop, the owner gives him a smile. He orders his tea and makes his way to the back table, pulls out his notebook and starts writing his song lyrics.

On my pillow. Can’t get me tired. Sharing my fragile truth. That I hope the door is still open. Cause the window. Opened one time with you and me. Now my forever is falling down. Wondering if you’d want me now.

Taehyung sets his pen down taking a break from writing, he reaches for his tea and takes a few sips. The liquid has gone cold. He sighs out and lets the hours pass him by. Closing time approaches like it does every night and he is asked to leave.

Day 4:

He’s back to getting pancakes. He likes to pretend they are yours, that you made them for him. He likes to imagine a life where you make breakfast for him again. He likes to imagine a life where you’re just here again. It’s almost 7 am, he needs to head to the coffee shop. He strolls casually, wondering what you are up to on this Thursday morning. Are you finally going to make an appearance at Cozy Coffee? Are you running late for work? Are you in early today?

Taehyung enters the shop and the owner gives him a sweet smile and begins working on his tea. Taehyung feels grateful that it’s being made without him even ordering it yet, a smile adorning his face. He pays for the tea and makes his way to the his table, pulls out his notebook and continues working on his song.

I’m wondering are you my best friend? Feels like a river’s rushing through my mind. I wanna ask you if this is all just in my head. My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder if you are too good to be true. And would it be alright if I pulled you closer.

Taehyung lets hours and hours pass, his pen busy on his notebook paper. The lyrics coming to him so easily for the first time in months. He can’t help the sad smile that grows on his face as he reads and rereads his song lyrics.

Just like every day when the bell of the front door jingles his head shoots up to see who it is. Now is no different. A woman comes in and his heart almost stops because she looks like you at first glance. Taehyung groans at the disappointment. Because it’s not you.

Day 5:

Okay, he is back to French toast. It’s starting to grow on him, he definitely wants to ask you to make this for him. His imagination begins to run wild with dreams of making food with you again, kissing the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind you. Like the many times he has done it.

“Taehyung…” you whine as he nips your neck with his teeth. “I’m trying to concentrate on this recipe.”

“I’m trying to concentrate too.” Taehyung smirks against your soft skin, “On you.”

You can’t help the blush that begins spreading across your cheeks, his fingers dig into your hips and you moan out.

“Taehyung…”

“What is it baby?” he starts kissing your neck. “Want me to fuck you? Right here?” he digs his fingers deeper into your hips and you start grinding against him.

“Couch.” You breathe out. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh? You want to be in control? Maybe I will allow it this once.” He teases, his tongue licking a strip up to your ear, then he nibbles on the lobe.

Taehyung finds his pants getting tight as he recalls his memories with you. He misses kissing you, he misses touching you, he misses your scent, he misses your skin, your eyes, your lips.

Shit, it’s past 7. He needs to hurry to Cozy’s.

He’s seated in his spot with his tea and notebook out, he swears he is almost finished with this song…the chorus needs some work but he thinks he’s got it. Something about being ships in the night, but somehow he doesn’t have the courage to finish he song, he doesn’t want that to be his relationship with you.

Night time comes and still no sign of you. Tomorrow is his last day and he is starting to freak out. Where are you? He thought you came here all the time? Why aren’t you coming? Are you okay? He is asked to leave once again and he does.

Day 6:

Back to pancakes. Back to strolling on the side walk. Back to Cozy’s. Back to his tea. Back to his spot.

Taehyung feels the nerves in his body multiplying with every shaky breath he takes. Today is the last night, his flight is in the morning and he has made no progress on finding you. This place being his only hint.

“Excuse me…” Taehyung walks up to the counter and greets the owner.

“What can I do for you young man? Another tea?” he softly smiles at Taehyung but Taehyung shakes his head.

“I have a question…” he begins. “Do you know y/n y/l/n?”

“y/n???” the old man begins to smile after expressing his confusion, “Of course I do, that girl has been coming here for years.” He starts wiping down the counter with a rag. “Why? You looking for her? You aren’t some creepy ex-boyfriend are you?”

“No, no.” Taehyung laughs. “But I am looking for her…she usually comes here right?” he nervously chuckles.

“Usually. But she started a new job recently that has kept her a little busy…” the old man continues to wipe down the counter. “But she was in just last week! And It’s Saturday!” he cheers, “She always comes to write on weekends.”

Taehyung lights up at that. “Really??” he shows the old man a wide, boxy grin. He feels like he hasn’t smiled like that in what seems like forever. All because there is finally a chance he might see you.

“Oh…” The old man stops wiping to get a good look at Taehyung. “You look like a man in love.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen just a bit before he smiles, “Do I?”

The shop is busy today. Taehyung sits in his usual spot, writing and doodling in his notebook, his head lifting up quickly every time the door jingles. It’s never you though. It is already 6pm and there is still no sign on you and Taehyung hates that he is starting to lose hope. Are you not coming? He doesn’t have much time left.

Taehyung sits here, his pen between his lips as he thinks about you. He thinks about the first time he saw you…he really thought you were some girl he might have drunkenly hooked up with…he remembers your expression, how shocked, how scared, how overwhelmed you were. He wishes now he could go back in time and hug you. Tell you he’s with you, together. That you aren’t alone. Taehyung wishes he could kiss your temple, bring you in close and make you feel okay. He recalls the first time you two really interacted.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head.

Taehyung can’t help but chuckle. God, you were such a brat. It’s almost 7 now…still no sign of you.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Taehyung continues to chuckles as he goes down memory lane…he does regret being mean to you at first but god, you truly were a fucking brat. But he laughs about it now, loving every single memory he shares with you.

The door jingles and he shoots his head up, hoping it is you. But still, just like every other fucking time—it’s not.

Taehyung groans into his notebook, feeling lost and frustrated. What’s he going to do if you don’t show? He’s trying here. Is the universe really that cruel? And suddenly the door jingles again, but he doesn’t look up, he knows it isn’t you.

“Hi Mister Jones!”

Oh. Oh. That voice. That voice belongs to you. Taehyung whips his head up and there you are. You are standing at the doors entrance with a nervous smile on your face, why are you nervous? You are wearing jeans and a oversized t shirt, a casual but cute look. And Taehyung is falling in love with you. Seeing you in the real world for the first time has him frozen in place.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.” You reply calmly, glancing at the empty table at the front of the shop. You pull a chair out and take a seat, your back to Taehyung. He is still frozen. He all of the sudden feels unprepared for this. He all of the sudden feels sick. He clenches his jaw as he watches your back. You are here, living your life without even think of him aren’t you? Taehyung swallows down his anger now. He has to. Anger won’t do him any good.

He takes long breath after long breath trying to compose himself and find his confidence to go up to you and confront you. He blinks back his growing tears of frustration and stands from his table, the chair screeching against the wooden floors.

He stands here, frozen again. What if you really do not want to see him? That this was all intentional? He starts to feel sick again. He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to get rid of the feeling of nausea.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You think having feelings for me means that’s it? That it’s the end? Baby, it would only be the beginning.” Taehyung leans down again as he caresses your face. “I know you’re scared. I know you have trauma that you’re still getting through. I know your ex fucked you up. But I’m not him. I’m Taehyung. I’m…fuck, I don’t know. y/n, please just open your heart to me.” Taehyung looks at you with so much compassion that it physically hurts.

“I know,” your voice shakes, “I know you aren’t him, Tae.” You take his hand in yours, “I do like you.” You finally admit, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me.” Taehyung commands, “Look at me babe.”

You slowly open your eyes again, gazing into his dark ones and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer.

“I’m only looking at you.”

Taehyung quickly opens his eyes as he finds his resolve. You love him. He knows it. He feels it. You wanted him, just like how he wanted you—wants you.

He nods his head, trying to pump himself up, about to gain the courage to walk to you when the door jingles again and a man walks in. A man that immediately looks at you and smiles.

This man takes a seat across from you at the small table and Taehyung feels his heart halting in his chest. He feels himself grow warm, he feels himself grow the company of something evil, something green. He feels himself grow incredibly fucking jealous. So you do have someone. You moved on. You have someone, someone that is not him. Taehyung slowly plops back down in his chair, his mouth slightly open as he watches this man talk and smile at you.

But suddenly, Taehyung notices how tense you become. How you grip on to your purse harder and harder with every word this man speaks. He can sense you from here…something is wrong. Who is this man? Why is he making you so uncomfortable? Is this not a date? Taehyung isn’t sure what to do. He could be reading this all wrong, he could be imagining this for his own sake. He could be creating this world where you don’t love anyone but him.

But then you stand from your chair abruptly and storm out of the shop, this man desperately tries to grab for you and quickly follows after you. Taehyung stands from his chair as well, already racing towards the shops door, in search of you. He didn’t even think about it, he just acted on instinct.

“y/n!” the man calls out after you but you continue to speed walk away until you feel a hand grab at your arm. You are quick to turn around, ready to give him an earful when your face goes completely pale.

“T-Taehyung…?” you stutter out, the shock riding in waves throughout your entire body.

“I said wait baby!” The man jogs up to you and Taehyung, Taehyung releases his hold on your arm and looks between you and this man.

“Baby?” Taehyung whispers out, already feeling his heart crack inside his chest. Maybe this is just a lovers quarrel. He continues looking between you and this man and you can see the hurt plastered all over Taehyung’s face.

“No—”

“Who is this?” The man stands between you and Taehyung. “Who are you?”

“Ben, you can leave. I think I have heard enough.” You spit out and Taehyung’s eyes widen before they are narrowing at you.

“Ben…?” he asks, not even sparing Ben a glance, only focusing on you. “Why are you with him y/n?” Taehyung’s voice goes dangerously low. “I asked, why are you with him?”

“He was just—”

“I was just talking with my girl. Is that a problem?”

“Your girl?” You and Taehyung ask in unison.

“You’re fucking kidding, right y/n?” Taehyung’s face is taken over with a scowl. “There’s no fucking way you are seeing this asshole again.”

“It’s not—”

“Asshole?” Ben scoffs, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look Bens way as he eyes you, he stuffs his hands into his front pockets and stares at you with his hard expression.

“Answer me.” He commands. “Now.”

“Listen buddy—” Ben begins but Taehyung just a holds a hand up in front of Bens face and tilts his head at you.

“I said, now.” Taehyung finally lowers his hand, then he is feeling his body being shove backward.

“I said who the fuck are you?” Ben pushes Taehyung, his hands still on his chest at the collar of his shirt. “How do you know my girl? y/n…you been fucking other men?”

“I’m not your fucking girl Ben.” You finally snap out of your daze, “I said leave.”

Ben lets go of Taehyung shirt to face you, he walks closer and closer until his feet are practically touching your own.

“Sweetheart I said I was sorry…” Ben tries to caress your face but you smack his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit out, “Ever.”

Taehyung eyes the both of you with curiosity. What’s going on here? Are you with him or aren’t you? You notice Taehyung’s confused expression and move towards him to begin explaining.

“Ben is just here to explain why he did what he did…I don’t know why I agreed…but—”

“I’ve heard enough.” Taehyung stops you, he walks closer to you. “He’s bothering you?”

“I ain’t bothering anyone you fucking dick. And you never answered my question—who the fuck are—”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers and you watch the collision of Taehyung’s fist to Ben’s face. You swear you are witnessing it in slow motion, the way his fist crashes into the side of Bens jaw. The way Ben stumbles back and falls to the pavement. The way Taehyung grits his teeth as he brings his fist back to his own body. Did Taehyung just fucking punch your ex-boyfriend in the fucking face?

“She said to fucking leave.” Taehyung growls, “Now.”

“Taehyung!” you rush to his side, immediately reaching for his fist and inspecting it for any damage. You are hit with something massive…like the grandest bolt of electricity the moment your hand touches his. You try your hardest to ignore it, to ignore the fire that caught light, the raging fire that burns so wildly in your chest.

“Come. Come with me.” You say in panic, ignoring the fact that Ben lays on the concrete, probably knocked the fuck out. You hold on to Taehyung’s hand tightly as you lead him to the parking lot until you’re at your car. You hurry to let go of his hand, feeling so fucking nervous. What the hell is happening? Everything with Ben happened so fast that you haven’t even processed the fact that Taehyung is here. Here with you. In your city. In this parking lot. At your car.

“Tae—”

You stop before you can even finish his name. He looks at you with something you have never seen before. He goes to open his mouth but he stops himself, not knowing what the right thing to say is.

“I don’t know what to say anymore now that I am with you.” Taehyung finally says after a long while, his eyes are wet and his expression is troubled.

“I thought I would get here and I would tell you I am ready to make this work, that I missed you, that I love you. But now…seeing you. Really seeing you, I don’t know anymore.” He admits. “I think I am angry with you.” He says softly. “Really fucking angry.”

“Tae—”

“No.” he moves his head to the side, his eyes down at his shoes. “Let me speak. I have prepared a whole speech for you…but now, I don’t think I would mean any of the words.” He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping. “Did you go too far? Too far in hurting me?” he whispers. “Did you ruin me?”

You start breathing heavily, not knowing how to take his words. Why is he here?

“I had to fucking search for you. But did you even want to be found?” he questions you softly.

“Taehyung.” You say firmly. “I—”

“Am I a fool?” He chokes out, “A fool for doing this? Coming all the way here…sitting at this coffee place every single day waiting for you like the pathetic man that I am.” Another tear slips.

“Can I talk now?” you whisper. “Please?”

Taehyung gulps down his spit, anticipating what you might say. He gestures for you to speak and you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out…” you begin, your chest getting tighter and tighter. “Every day that passed it got harder and harder to do it. If I’m being honest I stalked your account…” you admit with a bitter laugh, “You seemed happy. I wasn’t even sure you wanted me to reach out. Then Hana…”

“Hana?” Taehyung scrunches his brows together, “What’s Hana got to do with this?”

“You two are together aren’t you? I know, Taehyung.” You swallow hard.

Taehyung shakes his head in confusion, how do you know about Hana? You know he slept with her or?

“It was only one time.” Taehyung admits quietly…”but how do you know about that?”

“She posted you on her Instagram. I just assumed.” You say dryly, feeling a pang in your chest as you look at him. So he did get with her. You fucking knew it.

“Why are you here Taehyung?”

“I was here to tell you I love you. I want to make this work.” He says bluntly.

“Was?” you whisper and he nods.

“Now that I am here and I see you, I know I fucking love you still. But I think I’m lost and confused right now.” He admits between bated breaths. “I was so nervous to see you and to be honest looking at you now…I still feel nervous. Like, I could throw up.”

“I feel that way too.” You admit.

“You hurt me, y/n.” he steps closer to you, his gaze is dark and unwavering. “Can I forgive you?” he whispers and you choke back a sob. “Do you even love me back?...That’s also a main problem here.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You breathe out roughly, “I’m sorry for our last conversation on the island.”

“Are you?” he takes another step. “Are you really?”

“Yes, Tae…I …I…”

“You? You?” Another step.

“I was so scared, I was so confused.” You take a step back, but he continues walking towards you. “ But I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he steps closer. “About that ‘maybe’ hmm?” he steps even closer until he is breathing the same zone of air as you. He reaches for your jaw with his hand and tilts your head up towards him. “I could have fucking told you that.”

“Taehyung…” you don’t mean to whimper, but you do. You fucking do. “I’m sorry. It just got so hard to talk to you but I have thought about you every second of every day.”

“Every second?” he scoffs, “Even as you were having coffee with fucking Ben?”

“It seriously isn’t what it looks like…” you rush to say, “He wouldn’t stop pestering me.”

“Tell me how you feel y/n. Right fucking now.” He roughly commands, his fingers still on your jaw.

“I—”

“I want everything, every detail. I want to know exactly what’s going on in this brain of yours.” Taehyung looks at you with hard eyes. “I want the truth.”

You scrunch your face up as you try not to cry, you feel so many overwhelming feelings all at once. You don’t know what to say. You love him. But is it that simple? “I…” You gulp.

“You?” his eyes soften just the slightest, “Just talk to me babe.” His voice loses all its edge as you begin to silently cry. His thumb wipes away your falling tears. “Just talk to me.”

“I miss you so fucking much.” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth, “You have no idea…” you sob.

“If anyone has an idea, it’s me.” He chuckles bitterly.

“I let time pass me by Tae, I regret it so much. But as the seconds ticked by I knew I was losing my window of opportunity. And before I knew it 6 months had passed.” You choke, “I am so, so sorry.” You stare into his dark eyes. “The company did me a favor.” You laugh, “They gave me you. I fell in love with you, Taehyung. I just…I’m so sorry I doubted myself, doubted you.”

Taehyung’s features soften as he listens to you, he feels himself grow weak. Especially with his fingers touching your skin. He pulls back from you and leans against your car.

“Are you still in love with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” You sniffle, wiping your face of your tears. “I think I always will be, even if you decide you hate me.”

“I wish I could hate you.” Taehyung throws his head back, “It would make this easier, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Make what easier?”

“Leaving you behind.” He says quietly, “Leaving us behind.”

Your body begins to shake as more tears escape you, you feel the heavy weight of his words fucking crush you. He wants nothing to do with you. He doesn’t want you anymore. You fucked up too badly. Taehyung watches as you sob for several minutes, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. He clicks his tongue and puts a hand on your shoulder and rubs it.

“That’s what I think I should do.” He says, “But I can’t.”

Wait, what?

“You c-can’t?”

“I love you too much. And I all my friends voted I bring you back to Korea.” He says with a small smirk.

“But you?” you cry, “You said you are leaving me?”

“I was thinking aloud. And to be honest I wanted you to suffer a bit.” He says with his dark gaze. “I wanted to punish you just a little.”

Your wide eyes narrow at him and you can’t help but cry harder. “You fucking sadist.”

“Maybe a little.” He admits with a growing sly smile. “We have a lot to talk about.” He says after a moment. “Do you want to make this work with me or not?”

“Are you serious? Even after all of this you still want to be with me?”

“We’re soulmates, baby. Or did you forget?”

“You fucking smartass.” You wipe at your face, wiping your snots on the collar of your t shirt. “But yes…I want to make this work.”

“Spend a couple weeks with me in Korea. I want to start over with you. Take things slow. I am still angry. But I fucking love you.”

“A couple weeks in Korea?” you shake your head, “I can’t take off work that long.”

“I am not going to beg you.” Taehyung warns, “But please.”

A couple weeks in Korea? With Taehyung? Meeting his family? His friends? Starting over? Going slow? Can you two really do this?

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png​, @bakugouswh0r3​, @yatoatyourservice​, @ayocee​, @marvel-ing-at-it-all​, @astrolcve 

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3 

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter. 

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow. 

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?” 

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.” 

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?” 

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes. 

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether. 

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway. 

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week. 

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday. 

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

[joeyglowy]

Can i request a scenario where Atsumu’s girlfriend feels lonely because he barely had time for her so he dedicates his weekend to her

No worries! Realistically, as much as I’d like Atsumu to dedicate an entire weekend, he’d still give a good portion of it to volleyball cause that’s just how he is. In any case, I still hope you enjoy the scenario I did, that explored the ‘lonely’ part and ‘spending time together’ part in equal portions.

Miya Atsumu x Fem! Reader

WHAT I’M HERE FOR.

Although dating Atsumu was certainly a thrilling endeavour, it also happened to be a rather lonely one.

Miya Atsumu was something akin to the illustrious ‘Forbidden Fruit.’

He was a scorching red that disrupted the serenity and tranquillity of the garden. He was a pulsating, bleeding crimson heart that tantalised you from afar. He was alluring and he knew it. He burned everyone that he touched and yet he’d draw them in all the same. He was searing, he was like scalding water. If you got too close, not only would he evade you but he’d manage to singe you in the process.

Being with him was like a lucid dream.

He was elusive, too elusive.

A relationship with him was not quite the romantic comedy you had asked for. Being second to volleyball is something that was both bitter on the tongue yet mesmerising on the eyes. Atsumu’s passion, however scorching, never failed to ignite something that was reminiscent to childish glee inside of you. He brought it out of everyone. From his opponents, his teammates, the crowd, it didn’t matter, but Atsumu was what they meant when they say:

You can’t look away.

Finishing your club activities, you looked longingly at the gym and sighed as you offered a small smile to your friends who were waiting up ahead. Inarizaki was a prestigious school, one that took great pride in their sporting, particularly well known for their volleyball team. As such, their practice always extended until the skies were coloured with purple sunsets and stars.

[5:32 PM]

hey~ you free to hang out this weekend tsumu? theres a festival nearby which might be fun to go to!

[5:40 PM]

sorry babe

captains makin all the practices longer cause of nationals

- 3 -

dunno if ill be able to

[5:42 PM]

all g! you better do well then, if you get knocked out of the first round of nationals I’ll kill you

[5:45 PM]

come on babe, its me we’re talkin bout here~

;))))

breaks bout to end so ill text ya later

thnx for bein chill babe~

You couldn’t help but sigh as you let your phone fall from your vision to your side before roughly shoving it into the depths of your pockets. Your group of friends eyed you warily.

“[Name]-chan, if he never spends that much time with you, is there really a point being with him?”

It was a question your friends often asked. Never out of malice, but always out of genuine curiosity and concern whenever they see you look at your phone solemnly. Unfortunately, you’ve asked yourself that question a few times too.

It was almost unbearable, like being put on a diet. He was the taste of all chocolates, candies and lollipops that you’d snack on but was always hidden away, as if his enjoyment was a ‘one time’ thing per week. You hated the fact that it felt like your relationship was just like those candies, stowed away on the top shelf, only to come whenever he felt like it. He was tumultuous and exciting but he left you feeling cold for he always went away too soon.

It’s not as if you didn’t get it. He loved volleyball, it was his passion, it was his world and that was completely okay. You knew all that and yet… it always felt as if you clung onto the relationship a bit tighter than he did.

Even so, you had always answered that question with a shaky, but determined ‘yes.’

“I don’t really know. Nationals are coming up though so it’s natural that he’d be extra busy, he’s practicing hard so, I really can’t blame him for that, you know?”

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You smiled through the cracks on your teeth as you all continued on your way.

~*~

“Ouch.”

“ACK–!”

Atsumu choked out a strangled scream as his bottle flew out of his hands before he eventually caught it in a hurried motion saving it from plummeting to the ground, turning to give his most withering glare he could muster to the source of his near death experience before deadpanning to find an identical deadpan boring into him. Osamu, being completely immune to Atsumu’s glares only shrugged nonchalantly as he made a gesture to fill his own bottle by the taps before glancing casually up at his fuming brother.

“That sure doesn’t sound too good ta me ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu had gone to fill his bottle at the drink taps just outside the gym but he had stumbled on the conversation you had been having with your friends by accident. Osamu had apparently followed and thought it was necessary to almost completely blow his cover by nearly shocking him into a seizure. Atsumu’s scowl deepened in spite of the guilt and concern gnawing his mind as he harrumphed angrily.

“It’s none of ya damn business ‘Samu!” he retorted stubbornly, looking away so that his brother couldn’t see the distress on his face.

Osamu snorted. Even if he couldn’t see his brother’s face, he (unfortunately) had sixteen years of experience to document Atsumu’s irrational behaviours and idiosyncrasies tucked away in a rather large folder in his mind. Osamu’s not too happy about that folder occupying as large of a space as it did but he definitely didn’t want to see it get bigger by adding a ‘heartbroken ‘tsumu’ subheading.

“If I were you bro, I’d do something about it. Last thing I want is ta deal with yer crying ass and ya eating my pudding to ease ya through the inevitable break up.”

Atsumu stilled at that word: ‘breakup.’

He didn’t think that you guys were broken, nor did it feel as if you guys were losing your feelings. Atsumu was a man of the highest calibre. He never half-assed anything and he held the same standard for everyone he was acquainted with. It was often the decider if people hated or liked him.

For you, it was a decider that you loved him. He was sure of it.

Atsumu furrowed his brows in determination. He was a man that pushed things to the limits and he most certainly did not settle for mediocrity. Whatever it is, he was going to make sure you’d both get through it.

“Fuck you ‘Samu, ya can keep yer damn pudding, just watch, I’ll—‘SAMU!”

As per usual, Osamu had left Atsumu in the middle of his epiphany. Seriously, who does that bastard think he is!?

~*~

Since you had nothing better to do, you decided to get a start on studying on the Saturday, not that you were too happy about having to spend another weekend alone.

Your solitude, however, was sourly interrupted by rapid banging on your door. Aggravated to have your rare ounce of motivation disrupted, you flung open the door with a bit more force than necessary only to be met with your boyfriend, still sweaty from practice.

“[Name]-chan!? What’re ya doing, hurry up and get ready, we have a festival to catch don’t we?” Atsumu gasped out, perhaps on a small adrenaline high after practice. You were a little taken back by his enthusiasm before you narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t make it? You can’t just come here expecting me to hang out with you just because you’re suddenly up for it ‘Tsumu,” you say slowly, wincing to hear your words come out a little more scathing than what you’re used to. It’s not as if you had anything planned for the day but you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that he’d act as if he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Atsumu’s eyes flashed momentarily with guilt and he chewed the inside of his cheek before he ducked his head, looking up at you with his burning caramel eyes. “I know but, couldya give me a chance to make it up ta ya? Please [Name]-chan~” he whined pathetically, dramatically clapping his hands in front of his face as he screwed his eyes shut, pouting. You sighed, not finding the heart to ever deny him, you swore you would one day build up immunity to his puppy pouts.

“Fine, fine, just let me get dressed properly.”

His eyes suddenly snapped open, lighting up with a friendly suggestion on the tip of his tongue—

“Alone asshole.”

He grimaced to have the door slammed in his face… yeah, he probably deserved that.

~*~

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu, you have to get me that jumbo fox plushy!”

Atsumu couldn’t hide his grin for a moment to see the way your eyes lit up at all the decorations than hung overhead on wires or ornaments on stalls as you cooed and awed at all the different ones. He realised it had been way too long since he got to see you get so excited like this, to see your eyes shimmer like diamonds and your smile crystallise like stalactites. Even if there were lights illuminating the area, he was certain that you had to be the one powering all of them.

“Eh~? Aren’tcha a little too old for plushies?” he teased gently, murmuring in a soft voice that was reserved just for your ears.

You waved him off dismissively, your eyes drawn to the golden fox that reminded you a little too much of your own cunning boyfriend. “Nonsense, you can never be too old for cute things. Besides, you’re a brat and yet I’m still dating you, aren’t I?”

Atsumu’s frowned, adamantly squawking, “I am not a brat you–” he broke himself off for a moment before his lips curled into a sleazy Cheshire grin. “Oh? So you think I’m cute, do you?”

You deadpanned, unamused. “Well you’re not good for much else other than volleyball or being an asshole, are you?”

Atsumu winced, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly, resisting the urge to further prove your point by puffing out his cheeks. “Mean! Yer so mean [Name]-chan! I finally take you out and this is the thanks I get!? Why am I even dating ya anyway!?”

The words had tactlessly slipped out in a fit of momentum and for a moment, he stiffened, like he wanted to take it back upon realising that the reason why he had done this is because your very relationship was on the brink. He suddenly stumbled over his words, getting flustered as he tried to find the best way to reword it. You blinked curiously, mulling over what could have spurred such a reaction. Briefly, you wondered if he had heard you when you were with your friends… that he had somehow known of your doubts.

“I mean, course I know why I like ya! Yer–!”

You patiently listened to Atsumu as he listed all the little things you do, all the little trivial stuff that you never even noticed about yourself to you. In less than eloquent words, he admired how assertive you were with him, how you always spoke your mind and lately you hadn’t been doing that. He was clearly growing more and more embarrassed at the sheer honesty of it all and with each stumble he made that fractured his swollen pride, it was like he put a Band-Aid on the doubts in your mind.

You suddenly brought his neck down and he lurched before his forehead was pressed to yours as you kissed the corner of his mouth, immediately putting a halt to his rather humiliating spiel of emotions.

“You’re really not good at this whole, emotional honesty thing, are you? No wonder I had to confess first.” You snickered to yourself and Atsumu cringed in chagrin, ready to rebut as his cheeks flared red before you smiled adoringly at him. “Thank you for that and for today ‘Tsumu. I’m sorry that you somehow had to figure out I was having doubts rather than me just being up front about it. But, I love you ‘Tsumu, I really do.”

You grinned, your nose brushing against his as the two of you stood in the middle of the path. People were probably staring at you but neither of you particularly cared as you beamed at him, watching his ears turn a shade darker.

“This, you, are exactly what I signed up for when I asked you out. I love your passion for volleyball, I find it hilarious that you can be an absolute dick to everyone but you can’t even properly admit to yourself when you’re genuinely moved. You’re a bit of an idiot and all asshole, but that’s exactly what I’m here for. But, please don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say I want to see you more. I mean, that’s what relationships are for, to get laid and feel the good stuff you know.”

Atsumu had been stunned into silence, the way his scrutinising eyes laid you bare made you flush but you held your ground confidently. “Heh,” he let out, albeit breathless and trying to cover up his own mortification as he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I thought ‘getting laid’ and ‘feeling the good stuff’ were the same thing.” He laughed when you playfully smacked his chest and although the grin he sported was of the devilish variety, the warmth he held in his smouldering golden eyes was more than enough to express how touched he really was.

“Well,” he growled under his breath as his lips hovered above your ear, drawing you in close by slithering his arms around your waist. “I’d be more than happy ta listen ta any request ya have if ya put it like that.”

He suddenly felt the warmth by his neck stolen away as you slipped out of his hold by bobbing down, his teeth clamping on thin air as he whined to see you duck away from his hold with a sneaky grin.

“You still owe me dunderhead. I want that fox.”

“But ya already got a fox right ‘ere!”

“Hmm, I think I’ve forgotten what makes you the number one setter in the high school prefectures, I think I need a reminder~”

“NOW YER ASKIN’ FOR IT–!”

Even if the two of you were a little embarrassed to openly discuss your feelings all the time, which, more often than not, was disguised under bouts of bickering and teasing, if there’s one thing the two of you knew very well:

You both knew exactly what you were here for…

To get laid and feel the good stuff obviously.

(And to be with each other you supposed)

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

ok so I tried to come up with three characters like you did for me but this was very difficult. so feel free to ignore some if you don't like it or feel like talking about someone else :'D but the beauty ghost/liu qianqiao (word of honor), yu tangchun (killer and healer, bc i know you like our opera boy) and seo moonjo (strangers from hell, bc i am always curious about you and this dentist lol)

Aaaah thanks for these! 💗 It’s been a joy to answer them, so I hope you can get through my ramblings about them. 

Referring to Give Me A Character

and I’ll break their ass down:

How I feel about this character

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

My answers under the cut: 

Liu Qian Qiao/ Beauty Ghost (Word of Honor) 

How I feel about her: I love her and she deserves better. I’ve not finished the drama yet and I know surprisingly little spoilers about her. I just love to see her acting on her own accord, standing up for the person she loves. Being protective and so caring of Luo Fu Meng, it breaks my heart. From what I’ve seen, she’s gotten on my radar only recently - after they saved Luo Fu Meng from the prison, I got really excited to see more of her and them in general. 

I think she deserves better than that pathetic man whose name I don’t bother to remember. I’m scared of what the show will do to her but I’m so excited to see more, especially now that Scorpion got them in his clutches? She’s on par with him and I’m curious which direction this will go. However, as with many C-dramas unfortunately, she does not really feel tangible to me? There is always something missing, just a small piece that will make her feel more true to me. Maybe the drama will deliver on that? I’m not sure what to expect. 

All the people I ship romantically with her: Luo Fu Meng!!! Lesbian ghosts rights!!! Their recent scenes have been breaking me and I just want to see more of them. I want to know more about their past together, about their dynamic. Luo Fu Meng is her master but right now, Liu Qian Qiao is the one guiding and caring for her. It shows how equal they actually are, even if not in their title. Liu Qian Qiao’s devotion to her feels so burning and determined - whatever she has going on with that man just pales in contrast. She was ready to risk it all for her and she would never abandon her. She’s willing to do anything and I’m just praying for their lives - please don’t fuck it up, @ show writers. 

In short, I just need more of them. Please. 

My non-romantic OTP for her: I loved her interaction with A-Xiang a lot - she truly seems like an older sibling to her and it’s precious to see. I can see them being easily annoyed with each other but also fiercely protective of the other. I can see A-xiang being an unstoppable whirlwind and Qian Qiao trying to ground her, while being incredibly fond. I can also see A-xiang pulling her older sister out of her own head, grounding her and validating her? Tell her that she is more than she thinks of herself, and that she deserves a lot more than she allows for herself. I need more of their interaction because I’m weak for found family tropes and I need more of the ladies doing their own thing outside of Wen Kexing’s or someone else’s periphery. 

Also I want more interaction with her and the Evil Bodhisattva???? The potential that friendship has? Please gimme. 

My unpopular opinion: I don’t know any opinions? I’ve not yet dived deeply into the WOH fandom because I’m not done with the drama yet. I’ve generally seen little content about her and the other ghost ladies, which is a pity. Once I get there, I’m excited to dive into all the fandom has to offer. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’m on episode 24, so I can’t really judge what the show is gonna do to her, but so far I wish for more depth. Less of that horrible man being affiliated with her. Less of her being subjected to violence. More agency. More of her and Fu Meng interacting, caring for each other, being in each other’s space. I hope her to survive and not be killed, so I’m crossing fingers. 

Yu Tangchun (Killer and Healer)

How I feel about this character: OH BOY. I have freshly baked feelings about him, get ready. Warning for spoilers:

First of all, I always felt the drama did not dive into him as deeply as I had wished. Something was always missing there, but I can’t really name what. Maybe more depth, other than just being sick and out for revenge? He had more potential and I will get to it later. But from all I’ve gotten from him, I love how strong he is, and how much bravery there is in such a small body. He has his own mind and own agenda and doesn’t allow people pushing him around - I also love how deceiving he can be, even to his friends (namely Chen Yuzhi when he asked for that drug). He is a clever fox and I love that for him. Which also made him incredibly unpredictable to me in the beginning - I just couldn’t quite place him? 

In the end, am just incredibly fond and he deserved so so much better than the show ever gave him. 

All the people I ship romantically with him: Zhan Junbai, with all its flaws. From the first moment on, their tension just made me go ???????? the whole time. It was amazing and unsettling to watch, see its development and knowing this could not end well. A very delicious dynamic that always treaded the line of will they or won’t they (whether that refers to killing each other or otherwise). At some point I felt a little more invested into their plotline simply because it was so interesting and unpredictable. The mutual attraction is undeniable, which made what happened later even more heartbreaking and fucked up.

It could have never worked, even if Zhan Zhunbai had been less of a dick. They deserved a different ending - at least Yu Tangchun should have been the one to kill him, or at least they should have had a proper showdown together. After all - they were more than friends at this point. 

My non-romantic OTP: I loved his friendship with Chen Yuzhi, but I must say I would have loved to see him more with Chu Ran! If we imagine a different ending, they could have bonded together so much over what Zhan Junbai did to the both of them. They are both so gentle and headstrong, I wish we had gotten more of them together. It could be relaxing and freeing for the both of them. 

Also I’ve always wondered how exactly Yu Tangchun’s friendship with Jiang Yuelou worked? I think this got way too little spotlight. 

My unpopular opinion about him: I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t? Maybe that I sort of enjoyed the idea of Yu Tangchun joining Zhan Junbai, even though I knew it wouldn’t happen. Let me dream, that could have been a different level of conflict. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Oh boy. Oh boy. SO MUCH. Spoilers ahead if you haven’t finished the show: 

First of all, his ending?? It felt way too rushed and while not out of character, he deserved so much more than his death being an afterthought to the plot and a few sad gay flashbacks. The entire ending felt rushed and oh boy, could I rant about it here, but I will try and focus on Yu Tangchun. So yes, give him the respect he deserves. 

Another thing which I have mentioned above is that I wished they had given him more depth? Just a little bit more other than the trauma and agony he went through. I also wish I had seen more of his opera and his story with it - how he got there, how he thinks about it. We only ever got glimpses and I get that a show can only focus on so much, but still. 

I also wish his ending with Zhan Junbai had been different - in a sense that I wanted him to break Zhan Junbai, lure some genuine emotions on his face other than anger. I wish they had gotten more….closure? I don’t even know. It didn’t feel satisfactory at all. Zhan Junbai went through so much trouble to keep him and then suddenly he let’s him go and then he dies? It just went too quickly. If at least Yu Tangchun had been there to kill him in the end, or at least get some sort of closure. I’m rambling now because I don’t know what I wanted for them but it was certainly more than what the show gave me. I am so frustrated about the ending of the show, help me. 

Seo Moonjo (Strangers from Hell)

How I feel about this character: Conflicted. That is the short answer to that, but of course I’m not here to give a short answer. Do I have to clarify that I do not condone the actions of a cannibalistic serial killer in real life? I hope not. Okay, let’s get to it then. 

Seo Moonjo (or Mr. Dentist, as I lovingly call him) to me is incredibly intimidating. Part of it is that Lee Dong Wook does an incredible job at depicting him as charming and terribly unsettling at the same time. From the first second he shows up on screen, you feel this presence - and you feel intrigue and fear. Which is what Seo Moonjo wants, it’s what he preys on. 

So when I think about how I feel about him, I think he is one of the best villains I’ve encountered recently, simply because he makes me feel the same way he makes Jongwoo feel. I’m very fascinated? I feel Seo Moonjo is a very lonely person, lost in his own ideals and morals. He has absolutely no sense of social propriety and does not intend to learn them. He’s so caught up in his own art and his desire for a certain life, it’s almost pitiful how much he desires it. But of course, once I feel a sliver of pity, he reminds me that he is - indeed - hell personified. I am still lowkey mad that he charmed me (why is being a villain so sexy smh).

Summing up, I love and hate him. What a creepy bastard.

All the people I ship romantically with him: Yoon Jongwoo, despite all the cruelty of it. I think comparing this show to NBC’s Hannibal is very valid, even though these two never got a proper development of their relationship like Will and Hannibal did. I absolutely think that Seo Moonjo is in love with Jongwoo and wants him to be his, wants to wrap him up in his life and make him the ‘perfect art-piece’ he had always wanted in his collection. No matter how sick it is, this obsession is probably the closest Seo Moonjo can get to feeling love - he does not know how else to love. 

So what do I want for them? I want Jongwoo to get his revenge, to make Seo Moonjo suffer as much as he did. I want Jongwoo to see eye to eye with him so they can walk with equal footing. I want Seo Moonjo to realise that Jongwoo has as much power over him as he thinks he has over the other. After this, they can be murder husbands for all I care, in true Hannibal-esque fashion. The emancipation of Jongwoo needs to happen first, and Seo Moonjo needs to realise that he is not the invincible one in this relationship. After that, they can have a good time together, no matter how fucked up that time may look like. 

Also, I am convinced that he ‘dated’ Yoo Gihyeok in a twisted way, before he went and fucked up his plans; and before Jongwoo came to cath his eye.

My non-romantic OTP: As mentioned above - Seo Moonjo is a lone wolf. Yes he had his pack and someone that guided him on this path, but none of them ever come close to him to see his heart. The show itself doesn’t give him much space to see a potential friendship except the one he has with Jongwoo. Jongwoo would be the answer for this as well. (also to be fair, I don’t wish anyone to be friends with him damn)

However, if I could explore more dynamics he has with other people, I would love to see it with Officer So. I think she is an incredibly interesting and strong character and the few scenes they had together were fascinating - she came as his patient and ended up being his enemy. In another installment of this show, I would’ve loved to see more interaction like that and see the development of them being pleasant acquaintances (and maybe Seo Moonjo realising that she too is worth his attention) to enemies. I want Seo Moonjo to find respect for her.

My unpopular opinion: I’m not into depicting him as fancy rich, as many do in fics. Yes he’s a dentist and surely has a ton of money, but I like the idea that despite this wealth, he would always be a shabby sort of person. Not decked out with a luxurious rooftop apartment and wearing dress-shirts every day and expensive watches; but rather using his wealth to make himself safe from detection, finding remote areas, buying utensils and appliances for his ‘art’. So no, I reject the vision of him lounging on the highest building in Seoul with a minimalist empty apartment. I see him in a ratty rundown but expensive old mansion/house that has many corners for his artistic endeavours. I’ve already picked the perfect house for him in Busan, on the top of a hill overseeing the city and the harbour. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I’ve mentioned it above, but I wish Seo Moonjo had gotten to feel more pain. We got Jongwoo’s liberation and Moonjo being proud of his ‘artwork’ while Jongwoo kills him, but that was not the revenge Jongwoo needed. In the end, Moonjo still lingers with him, as a constant presence, and he never got a taste of his own medicine. While watching this show, all I wanted was Jongwoo to break Moonjo’s heart. This would not make up the suffering Moonjo put him through but at least they would be equal. So I have my own revenge fantasy with this character that is more than ‘merely’ killing him. Being killed by Jongwoo just felt like an honour to Seo Moonjo and I’m not satisfied with that. 

Phew okay I’m done! Thank you for giving me something to ramble about, it was a joy!! 

[lostlonelylotus]

Another Hiatus?

straight up thinking of taking another hiatus from Tumblr...I hate to, but I’m thinking maybe this place just isn’t good for me, even after such a long time away in the first place. More under the cut, if anyone wants to read it.

So, I struggle with a lot on a daily basis. Things that I don’t even tell what few people are around me in real life, because frankly, I don’t really have anyone to tell that I think would want to help. I’ve had to end a great deal of my friendships because they were unhealthy/toxic and others ended because I’m disabled and cannot keep up with more “social” or outgoing people (which unfortunately is usually interpreted as disinterest because of constant rescheduling or inability to go out).

No one even knows that I’ve started a particularly hard round of chemotherapy that involves painful injections, because I worry that people just get sick of hearing how I’m actually doing versus the image of me they think should be real. I lie and say that I’m fine, when I’m struggling mentally and physically. Very few people know that I’m in such severe constant pain that even with strong opiates, medical cannabis, benzodiazepines and constantly watching my diet, I’m spending 12+ hours a day in bed. I never get below a 6/10 anymore. I can’t remember what anything below that feels like. My body tortures me every waking minute.

I’m back to where I started when I began treatment in 2012 and my mental health has taken a nose dive because it all just feels so futile, you know? Treatment after treatment, surgery after surgery, fighting tooth and nail to have the bare bones of a life only to fail and wind up at square one is...Hell. 

Add onto that, that I can’t get a FT job (so no PTO or good health insurance) despite having multiple degrees and that I had a position lined up before COVID that might now no longer even exist when this is all over + that the Part Time job I have that I love has completely changed now that I’m work from home and I HATE these new tasks and miss my coworkers + that I live with an actively abusive family member + that I have no friends beyond surface-level acquaintances despite so much effort to try and make and keep friends + that I’ve struggled my whole life with internalization of everything...and you’ve got a walking disaster of a human being who should probably nowhere near this site.

My therapist is through the school I graduated from, so I can’t even see them, and it wouldn’t matter because our relationship has progressed too far and they just treat my visits like a social hour and we never even talk about my real problems. It’s pretty damn pathetic when your needs don’t even matter to your therapist.

In real life, I’m a doormat to people’s needs. You need a house sitter? That’s me and they’ll pay me pennies to do it. You need someone to teach your children during COVID because we’re co-distancing? You need someone to drop everything and help you? That’s me. But when I need something, anything? A cup of tea or a genuinely asked “How are you?”? Forget it.

I miss fandom. I miss the escape. I miss the discourse. I miss the photosets and the freaking out over characters. I miss fandom buddies.

My experience of fandom since I last left Tumblr maybe 2-3 years ago has been very solitary. AO3 fics that I *do* comment on or discord servers where I’m one of dozens or more of people that no one can really remember because it’s hard to try to “compete” to be heard with 5 other people who are friends that are talking in depth about parts of fandom that you are new to...that and Google bloody Images have been my fandom for the past 2 years. 

It’s fucking lonely out here. I feel like a fandom cowboy, alone on a prairie, occasionally passing by other cowboys and wrangling the livestock together for a moment before heading on with a half-hearted tip of our hats. It’s more than likely the reason why I haven’t published a fic in nearly 2 years, even though I’ve completed 1 or 2 little ones. I used to write all the time, all the time. Fics, ficlets, drabbles, headcanons. Screaming into the void is so much harder than just sitting there with your eyes closed and pretending there is no void.

I got into Classic Doctor Who and back into a few “older”/smaller fandoms, and when there’s no fic to be had...your only option really is Tumblr. I was writing again (am writing again?), and the photo/gif sets and the meta had me fucking inspired for the first time in...so long. I was addicted to writing again. Wrote more in the last two weeks than I have in years. Started writing a fic that’s already longer than any I’ve ever written before.

I thought I could handle it, Tumblr helped so much before in the Golden Days of Tumblr. I became part of a huge fandom friend group on Skype back then. I had friends. I had true fandom, not this bizarre one-person-imaginings experience of fandom. 

I was able to see something triggering or an opinion I disagreed with or deal with bad anons or any of the bad parts of Tumblr. I was able to see just the good, overall.

But, now, I don’t know that I can? I’m too internalizing now? Someone replies to a post with a minor disagreement and it makes me hate myself. I get a slightly disgruntled anon and I cry. People don’t tag very triggering or super stressful political items anymore, so I can’t “unplug” when I need to avoid seeing things about riots and horrendous crimes against people and so I wind up with an additional panic attack because I can’t do anything about anything. 

I don’t know if the vibe of this place has changed or if I’ve become one of the dreaded and dreadful “snowflakes” who just can’t handle shit. I think both, honestly. 

And it fucking sucks, okay? Because I was starting to get back into the swing of liking this place. I was starting to branch out and reconnect with folks I knew from before that were/are wonderful or make new fandom acquaintances. I had the carrot of having a collection of true fandoms in front of me. Of feeling connected in this time of horrendous isolation (both for the world and me personally). 

But the stick is so much bigger than I remember. So much larger and harder; a tree trunk log instead of a twig switch. I’m not taking little love taps or slightly stinging slaps, I’m being beaten with it. By it.

I don’t know what to do. I want to keep Tumbling. I want to keep building friendships and talking about dumb fandom things. I want to reblog old gifsets and have convos in the tags. I want to share fics/art back and forth. I live for the discussions that I’m starting to have again. I live for seeing 3 bloody notes on an original post I made. I live for knowing that someone, somewhere is seeing something I wrote or made or said and likes it.

I don’t want the internalization of disagreements, of a perceived inferiority to other users, of feeling bad about myself over things that aren’t even a big deal on Tumblr but are to me. I don’t want to feel even more ‘less than’ than I already do.

I don’t want to feel extreme anxiety over the insanity of the world that I can’t escape even on here because tagging is a thing of the past and it’s apparently a major faux pas to ask for tags on triggering content, even if I fully support the matters tagged. I live the insanity okay? I’m a queer, disabled, person of color, in the small-town Midwest living in poverty. I’m not some racist who just doesn’t want to see your protest content. I’m struggling to get by. 

Maybe I’ll just stop producing content? Only reblog and like? Only comb through character tags or chat with some of the fantastic people that have offered? My inspiration is declining, along with my mood.

I’d honestly contemplate a permanent hiatus (just not a deletion) if all of the fandoms that I was in had discords, but they don’t. If they do, I don’t know about them. Though, honestly, discord is not the same, and I always feel even more insignificant there. Drowned out or unimportant. 

Huh. Drowned out or unimportant, that could really be the title of this pity post. Possibly the title of an autobiography, if I was ever self-indulgent enough to write one.

If you’ve read this whole thing, then wow. Thank you, because you’ve just given more of a shit about me and my feelings than anyone in a long, long time. 

This post probably won’t be up long, it was honestly meant to be a pity-party cathartic release of feelings and will, no doubt, make me feel more pathetic the longer I leave it up.

[zer0pm]

Diverging Jealousy: The Mysterious V

A/N: As promised, V’s part! I actually really enjoyed writing this one and basing it off from the dialogue I had written before really helps in adding depth. What can I say, I’m a sucker for sad bois x) Next parts should be the final pieces, each guy will have their own ending. Then after I can tackle the asks y’all have submitted 😱Thanks for stopping by.

.

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After making quick work of the demons, V and Dante move to rendezvous back with you. He was hunching over slightly, more than usual. The battle exhausted much of his energy as well as what little demonic power he had left. He can feel the steady brush of wind from Griffon’s flapping wings next to him as well as his loyal Shadow itching to assist him should he stumble. He even senses Dante walking close nearby, feeling his wary eyes on his frail form. V curses silently.

I need more power...

The skirmish against the demons gave him new scratches and bruises but none compared to the bleeding wound on his shoulder. To stop the gushing flow of red, Dante tore off the bottom of his blue shirt and tightly wrapped it around him. V was thankful but he felt heavy still.

In what he thought to be his last moments, he admitted defeat...and you were on his mind.

What a pathetic man I am.

V was certain that if you saw him then, you would have scolded harshly. He would like to imagine you pushing him, encouraging him, supporting him. To keep fighting until his final breath. And although he would forever be indebted to Dante for saving him amongst other things beyond the latters’s understanding, V wished it had been you instead.

Dante: “We’re going to need to call you a medic, V.”

The reminder of his injury brings him back to the apparent pain. Despite he pressure he is applying, V can still feel warm blood leaving him. He meant to say yes but all that came out was a pained groan. He’s most certainly going to need tending to. He glances back at Dante who received a few cuts himself but was for the most part none the worse for wear.

V: “You were searching for me.”

He had thought that his presence had done unnoticed, remembering back to the reason he left your side in the first place.

When Dante bent down to kiss you.

The image and what must have followed after seared into his mind and he tried hard to shake it off.

Dante: “Yeah, well, Spitfire was worried about you.”

V: “Spitfire?”

It fitted your persona, perhaps, when you interacted with Dante, but V wouldn’t settle for that as your pet name. Little Wanderer, Wildflower, Eternity’s Sunrise. The list goes on. Then he realized that not once has he called you these things, the very words from his past life’s poems that swayed his lonely soul and he connected them all to you. The fact that Dante has one reserved and used for you evidently, defining the familiarity of your relationship with him, left a sinking feeling.

Dante: “My partner. Damn well nearly ripped my ear off when I mentioned we were declaring war over her.”

Certain that you did not just let it slip, Dante? V sighed. All these years and it seems the legendary devil hunter still lacked tact.

V: “I see. Gather she did not like the idea of being treated like a prize.”

Dante: “Ha. She said the same thing. Guess you do know her better than I.”

V did not miss the sardonic tone within Dante’s voice. He figured you were not in favor of being seen as a trophy but given that, V had to wonder. Did something happen between you and Dante?

V: “And yet the there is an affection between you two that leaves me envious. A warmth nurtured by the passage of time.”

Wished as he did, V sincerely wanted more time with you. A month was not enough to quench the yearning and curiosity he had for you. A month was not enough to quench the yearning and curiosity he had for you. He even wondered what his life would have been like if he had met you first before everything. Would you see him the same way as you do now? Would he have made the same mistakes and would you have been forsaken for them?

Dante: “I won’t lie, when I saw you two earlier. When she touched you like that, it messed me up in the head real bad.”

That was a picture V remembers fondly, how could he forget the feel of your skin upon his? He asked himself then if you had possibly felt his thumping heartbeat. Then he remembers this isn’t the time for fond recollections.

Dante, a man whose words dropped with humor and snide with every syllable looked as if he was genuinely taking consideration to what he is saying, a heavy weight on his mind. Curious...

V: “Oh?”

Dante: “Yeah, there are any other guys in our line of work. Just us, and ha, Nero.”

Right. V nearly forgot about the boy.

Dante: “Once I found out how much I liked her, not once was I scared of someone else catching her eyes. Until you came along.”

Me? Never would V have imagined Dante to admit to his jealous as well as the vulnerable insecurity that matched his own. He amounts it to you and the effect you have on them both.

V: “To the see world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wildflower

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.”

Auguries of Innocence. He recalls you recognizing a verse from the poem and his mind goes back to the very first lines. How he wished he could have read them to you out loud, in the company of no one else but each other. He feels Dante’s curious eyes on him and V looks down to take a deep breath.

V: “When I first met her…I saw the world and heaven; when I am near her, I felt infinity and eternity.”

Dante: “Those are some heavy words, Mr. Poetry.”

That is because they hold the truth. In a way, he was a hopeless romantic.

V: “Indeed. So I understand wholeheartedly what it is like to lose something precious. A part of yourself that you would regret being without.”

One too many times has he lost that which is precious to him. Separated himself from that which matters. Even now he is but a shadow of his former self, ripped apart for the pursuit of power. With you in the mix, V vowed to not make the same mistakes...lest he loses completely.

Dante: “I’m gonna have her patch you up.”

V’s eyes snapped up at the unexpected suggestion.

V: “I thought you did not like to share.”

Dante: “Still don’t. But it’s not gonna look good to my future customers if I let you bleed out on my time. Bad for business.”

Both men smiled at his bullshit.

Dante: “Plus, she’s got the best working hands in Red Grave City. Me, I’ll butcher the job.”

The familiar chuckle of his avian companion fills V’s ears.

Griffon: “Oh, the best, you say?”

V immediately throws his trusty cane straight at the bird, the whistle of his weapon singing through the air accompanied by a gunshot. V sees that Dante drew his gun at Griffon as well. The tattooed man almost chuckled as the demon bird frantically returned within him and V made a mental note to scold Griffon later for his mouth.

V: “The help is much appreciated, but I feel that there is more you wish to say.”

Dante: “Yeah…”

He felt a gloved hand on his good shoulder.

Dante: “When we catch up to her or if she finds us first, she’s gonna look pissed as all hell. Brace yourself. Though with you, I think she’ll go a little easy on the punch.”

V visibly shook at the thought. He knew first-hand how capable you were in a fight and blanched at the impending pain you would inflict upon them both for their stupidity over claiming you.

Dante: “If you mean everything that you said…”

V’s attention returns to the man in red.

Dante: “Don’t force your affections. If she feels for you, she’ll show it. That’s the great thing about her. She doesn’t fuck around. Not when it comes to demons or hearts.”

This is...curious. What was Dante saying? Is he trying to give advice? To make amends? With who?

V: “Why are you telling me this?”

He secretly hoped this wasn’t some cruel joke to dangle in front of his face should Dante reveal that he had you in his grasp all along. But V gives the man credit to not be so childish and can see how genuine Dante was just by watching him struggle to say all of this to him.

Dante: “Because…I made a bad move. It wasn’t my place to throw all of that stuff down on her before, declaring my feelings for her in front of you to make you back off to boot. That shit was too soon and uncalled for. In truth, I really was going to give her everything as soon as this job was done, regardless of whether or not I would come out of it alive.”

Dante did not think he would survive Urizen? He hears the man sigh.

Dante: “Damn it, didn’t even ask her what she wanted. She doesn’t deserve that, she has a right to make her own calls.”

He really did leave everything to you, it seems. V can see that the man truly cared about you deeply. And to openly point out the need to respect you as you should be treated all the time. To open up to V who as far as Dante knows is still a complete stranger and to advise him on how best to appeal to your better side. To what end, V was not sure. Yet it gave him hope.

V: “You surprise me. It seems that despite your blind stubbornness, there lies some degree of wisdom and astounding selflessness. Is this the same man I hired to defeat Urizen?”

There was a pregnant pause for a moment when the next, Dante is laughing. It was not a half-hearted chuckle, but one that was bright, lightening the almost downtrodden mood instantly. Dante sounded like he was giving up on you for a moment, surrendering you to V. As much as V would like to have you to himself, it is as Dante said, he would have to earn your affections. Which means that they both had a chance still. He sees the man in red offer his hand to him in which V takes in his own, shaking on their new rivalry with respect.

Dante: “C’mon. I think I saw a payphone earlier on my way to-”

???: “FINALLY FOUND YOU BASTARDS!”

Both men look up to see you jump from the high ground, landing right in front of them. V shivered at the molten rage within your eyes, your anger palpable in the air. Dante stepped in front of him towards you, a sheepish smile on his face.

Dante: “Ah, partner. Funny, we were just about to ca-”

Dante‘s words fell silent immediately at the impact of your punch connecting to his jaw. V saw the man drop to the floor so fast, he genuinely wondered if your attack killed him and froze on the spot when you now approached him, fist still clenched. V did his best to straighten his back, bracing himself as Dante instructed. He knew why you were angry and was ready to meet your ire as deserved.

You raised your fist at him and your eyes catch onto the blue cloth around his shoulder, a large spot of red seeping through the fabric. You lower your hand to steady your breathing, V saw a flash of concern on your face that touched him. Perhaps there truly is hope yet.

V: “Little Wanderer-”

You: “Don’t think I’m letting you off easy. Dante told me everything. As soon as I fix you up, I’m going to kill you.”

V discovered that he was afraid and oddly attracted to you at these words. Despite the rollercoaster of doubt he had, the uncertainty of your feelings for both him and Dante, he was ready to put himself in your hands.

V: “Do with me what you wish.”

[ifeveristoday]

god what is your childhood trauma

I knew trusting Jordie was a good idea. While I still have timeline/minor pacing issues (Issue #9 has Joyce believing Buffy’s on an out of state field trip for a week - which means the issues are covering 1-2 days at a time?) It’s all very Jeremy Bearimy.

Issue 10 introduces Kendra, more background parents, more details about Rose (!!!!), Robin’s mission, and Giles continues to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad attitude. Is this Toxic Masculinity or just the Hellmouth amplifying bullshit?

I will post my thoughts about the last issue of Angel eventually, because wow, the gay - but I will say it’s interesting how each line is dealing with the absence of its titular character. With Angel’s absence, the Fang Gang is concerned, but they’re handling it. Buffy’s absence in Sunnydale is having major repercussions however and while it was touched on in issue 9, issue 10 really emphasizes how she’s a necessary part of the Scoobies and how they’re floundering without her.

I could say it’s because Angel hasn’t built up a bond with his gang to the extent Buffy has, but also I think it’s just where the characters are in their lives - the Scoobies are sixteen, and it’s implied that Fred and Gunn are older young adults, with more independence and less family/school to concern themselves with. 

The pressure to fit in, to be normal, to belong - it matches up neatly with Sunnydale coping with the aftermath of the Hellmouth opening. Robin, much like Willow in issue #9, is frustrated with keeping with the status quo and it's his POV this issue opens up with. He knows there’s bad shit going on, and that they should be focusing on surviving/fighting, not worrying about grades and chores like raking the leaves.

Except he doesn’t know exactly what he should be doing - and it doesn’t help that Kendra is counting on him to be her Watcher. She asks him when they’re going to be talking about hellfire and her training, and Robin tells her that they don’t do any of that, Buffy does. Except of course - she’s not there and Robin has to admit again that he doesn’t know.

For an informant to the Watcher’s Council, Robin knows less than was hinted at in previous issues, and it’s amusing that Kendra knows more about his background than he does hers. Which is a nice little inverse from the usual Watcher - Slayer relationship, isn’t it? 

Kendra is apparently older than Robin, but it’s not stated by how much - she does have TV canon’s sense of tradition, but with less ‘the Watcher is always right and I am the Council’s tool,’ and more ‘we’re partners and I’m already fifty steps ahead of you, so catch up, you fool’ which is just refreshing from the start.  “You’re the only resource I have in this town...it’s time you make yourself useful.”

BAMF energy. 

Speaking of which, let’s talk about Cordelia, and her Jurassic park quoting excellence. I’m telling you, every character gets an issue or two (or three) to shine, and in this issue, the girls we haven’t seen as much of, really get their day.

The sequence of Cordelia walking to school is nifty for the sense of humor - Cordy has been the omniscient ‘Gossip Girl’ for the series and would naturally be the best at social media in 2019. Just as she’s documenting ‘life finds a way’ about the bird making a nest in the ruins of a tree, the audience spots what she doesn’t, the snake crawling up the other side of the tree, poised to strike.

And just as Cordy says, “Gives me hope!”

She gets lured into a trap.

The incel/sad lonely white boy in the basement stock character is not one I enjoy reading about because too many times his real-life counterparts murder a lot of people (often out of hatred of women) and I have no sympathy/interest for that.

He’s a pathetic figure but that makes it no less scary to see him throw Cordelia down a flight of stairs into his basement.

I think this being potentially excused away (thanks not vague enough official preview summaries!) as part of the Hellmouth is bringing out the worst in the dudes is weak because again, real-life losers like these characters do this without an evil mystical force being the reason all the time.

But something is clearly wrong with Giles, as he almost attacks Robin in the library, and Robin nearly attacks him back. The copious amount of sweating, the murder eyes - the verbal knives out. Giles was scary in issue 9, and he’s even more menacing in this confrontation. He’s abusing his authority as an adult and being incredibly dismissive of Robin, which is bad enough on a personal level, but as an educator - really bad.

Willow and Xander luckily come in to defuse the situation, but now Robin has a problem with them and how come he’s suddenly responsible for Sandy Noxon’s disappearance (oh yes they did and yes I saw what they were doing there).

It’s accusation town as Robin rips into Willow and Xander, but not before he tells Giles that he’s lost Buffy, they all have, and that he [Giles] is a failure. This conversation is another one of those where two characters are talking around each other - Giles is thinking Robin is being disrespectful, while Robin is pointedly calling out Giles for his failure as Buffy’s Watcher, and as an authority figure in general. Giles tells Robin he’ll do nothing, but Robin scoffs ‘Watch me.’

Old versus new, tradition battling discovery - it’s a pretty obvious parallel setting Giles up as the Old Guard and Robin forging his way with ‘his’ Slayer and their new mission.

Back to Robin tearing into Willow and Xander: their conversation in the hallway reminds me a lot of the fights that the Scoobies had in the show - while not as ugly as the DMP confrontation or that bullshit season 7 episode *cough*, it does some excellent character work in the dialogue: it reinforces the idea of Willow and Cordelia being friendly/nice to each other, Xander’s unwavering loyalty to Buffy - and getting annoyed with Robin on her behalf, and then Robin calling out Willow for ghosting Buffy (aha, so he did notice her even when he was ignoring her) in the previous issues. Robin goes a little Mr. Hyde then - accusing Willow and Xander of shifting the blame on others when Buffy isn’t around, which...kind of a stretch because how would he know?  The Evil Flop Sweat is back, and he projects his frustration with Giles not helping him on them - yelling, ‘Instead of going to other people for help, why don’t you figure out things yourself, for once?’

and then ends on, “Buffy isn’t here, and we don’t know when she’s coming back...you should try to get real comfortable with that.”

The panel that follows after Robin’s outburst? A M A Z I N G.

David Lopez’s expressions for Willow and Xander is just...guys. 

Xander continues to be the most emotionally well adjusted of the Scoobies (!!! The growth! We love to see it.) as Willow tells him she and Rose are broken up and for him to just leave it.

Which brings me to the unicorn I’ve been chasing since she debuted in the comic, SOME ACTUAL PERSONAL DETAILS ABOUT ROSE. I was frustrated with their breakup for a number of reasons - a) we know so little about Rose beyond the being Willow’s girlfriend, b) so much of their relationship was off-page, c) Willow was lying to her for a lot of the time, d) when they broke up, it lacked real emotional depth and I wasn’t that invested in the first place.

BUT NOW.

Rose has a tattoo! That says I TRUST YOU in FRENCH. A semi-absent father figure but one who is loving and supportive! What’s that? Two dads and a possible stepdad and Giles when he’s not being Evil Flop Sweat Man? That’s four canonical Father figures that aren’t evil or negligent. Points to House Bellaire!

And Rose being a kid that moves around a lot because her dad relocates for work, and Sunnydale being a ‘real’ home and staying for good because her mom made it happen. Then wanting Willow to meet her dad when he was in town - but now, of course, that’s not happening and guys. Character details have been provided.

I have a better idea of Rose now, and I like it. And I like that she’s kind and looks after her classmates.....

even bad news bear Luke. LUKE. 

The sense of dread (and the colors! I love the work the Boom! colorists are doing for Buffy and Hellmouth) is excellent as she goes downstairs and discovers a bound and gagged Cordelia in the basement.

When Rose and Cordelia team up against Luke - it’s one of the best sequences in the issue. It shows that Cordy is unbelievably assured in every situation, no matter how dire it initially looks, and that Rose is really brave and resourceful (and deserves to be part of the Scooby Gang. Draw her on one of the covers, you cowards!)

It’s telling that Cordelia and Rose assume that it’s Buffy who saves them at the last minute - Cordelia because she associates Buffy with weird feats of strength and also just showing up at these moments, and Rose with hearsay - Buffy’s weird, but she gets results.

Kendra about to introduce herself and then Robin stealing her thunder and her reaction shot to said thievery?

I’m so glad she’s here. And that we’re going to get a girl gang in the next issue.

[geneshaven]

Goodbye Emily, And Thank You

So, I wanted to throw down some final thoughts on the past seven years of Arrow. I say final because, for me, the show ended when Emily announced that she is leaving it. There is nothing and nobody who can ever fill that empty place her departure has created. Where can the show go from here? Oliver shooting a bunch of arrows and fighting bad guys alone? He started his journey that way. Does he really have to end it the same way? Felicity was his anchor. She kept things in perspective. Without her to guide him, without the core of OTA, Oliver was destined to be a lone wolf. And apparently, to die alone as well.

I have a whole gambit (no pun intended) of emotions going on inside my mind and heart, bits and pieces of pure joy I’ve experienced throughout Arrow’s run. But I also have waves of disappointment and even some anger at what the showrunners have decided to do to this show.

So, here comes some venting, some negativity over all the fuckery this fandom has had to endure, followed by some happiness and platitudes I got watching Arrow. Yes, things have not always been bad. There were moments during the show’s run that took my breath away. There was beauty and hope, magical acts of kindness and happy tears. I will always be grateful to have been a part of that.

But first up---the negative. This one is easy. It seems there were more bad moments than good. There were many feet to place that blame at, but I will offer up something current to stem my flow of bad feelings.

Soon after reading about Emily’s decision to leave the show, I was over on YouTube checking out all the articles written about it. I must admit, I kept waiting to discover that it was all some cruel April fool’s prank, that everybody would get a good laugh out of it and the show would go on. But then I thought that Emily would not do that to her fans. She has too good of a heart to create that kind of cruelty. It was all true. She was leaving. I can only imagine how hard it was for her to make that choice. But maybe it wasn’t so hard. Maybe she caught wind of what was coming in season 8 and wanted no part of it. Yet, it was more likely because she wanted to try something new and different. Emily has way too much talent to just be on the sidelines, which is where she seemed to be put after Oliver came home from prison. But whatever the reason, I feel it was the right one for her.

Anyway, back to YouTube. I began to read the comments to the news articles on her departure, and lo and behold---the haters were having a field day with her leaving. “It’s about time,” one said. “They waited too long to get rid of her,” another chimed in. “She ruined the show…blah,blah,blah.” There was even some poor sap who opined that they can now bring Laurel back and get her with Oliver again, fulfilling this pathetic person’s comic book fantasies. These are the people who have been hovering over the show for the past seven years, waiting to pounce on the hope that Olicity would implode and bring back their cannon all of them have been dreaming of.

It was sad. The depth of these people’s denial is astounding. I could only take so much of it. I mentally wished them luck and moved over to some Olicity clips, mainly from seasons 2 and 3. These are the early times in the show that hold a special nostalgia for me.

Yet, as I was watching those scenes, I found myself conflicted. My heart was full of happy memories, but my mind was filled with the knowledge of what was waiting for them ahead. It seems that Olicity’s journey is to end in the darkness of what the flash forwards are showing us. I feel that the satisfaction and enjoyment I got from watching those happier times has ebbed away and into the darkness of a shattered endgame. I feel that my happy bubble has been violated and that, (according to the writers of Arrow) there is no such thing as a happy ending. Nice guys and girls do not win out. They finish last.

I can’t help feeling that my time has been wasted, sitting in front of my TV all these years waiting to see what suffering and loss and pain brings about to those who aspire to being a hero. I kept waiting for my due from watching their journey as saviors of a city, for what they deserved as a reward, for what I deserved by watching them and for putting up with all the roadblocks in their way trying to stop them.

Of course, I could be wrong about all this. All of us could be wrong about this. By some hand of luck or in the spirit of doing what is right, the writers may have crafted an ending that will give us all the warmth of riding into the sunset, happy and fulfilled. And maybe I am only indulging in the same denial all the haters have been thriving on.

*

And now for the positive things I have to say.

I am truly happy for Emily. I think that she will achieve great things in her post Arrow life. Going to Broadway, even off-Broadway, to reprise her role in Reborning, is a great way to shine the light of her talent outside of the CW. Yes, she made herself a household name by creating Felicity Smoak, but that is not the limit of her abilities. I don’t think it is out of the realm of possibility that we may one day see her clutching a Golden Globe or an Oscar.

So Godspeed, Emily. You are destined for greater things. You have inspired legions of women (and this one man) to hold faith and believe that there is achievement in abundance out there for anyone who dreams enough to reach for it.

Again, Oliver and Felicity may not find their happy ending. To paraphrase Oliver---people change, hearts change and minds can change. But love is the ultimate hero’s journey. They built that love right in front of our eyes. And if they’ve shown me anything, it’s that love is what makes us all better people I will always see them in the light of that sunset, riding off to live the life they were meant to have.

And I will happily wave to them goodbye.

[reylo-solo]

Star Wars AU - Rey goes undercover to seduces Kylo Ren

Anything involving the word ‘seduce’ is bound to be a great AU idea, haha. Thanks, Nonnie! Hope you like it - it’s kind of a long one!

Read it on AO3.

Just a Touch

Theroom was vast and sprawling; her footsteps echoed on the shiny red floor. Itwas intimidating. The entire room was red, the colour of blood, apart from afew black accents and one lone, tall black throne at the opposite end of thehall.

         That was where the Supreme Leader sat.That was where Rey was headed, carrying the sealed envelope upon a silver tray.

         He didn’t speak as she approached histhrone, but neither did he take his eyes off of her. Those dark, perceptiveeyes and their scorching gaze made her stomach twist. If she just kept her eyesdowncast, away from his probing stare, she would be safe.

         She climbed the few steps to histhrone, bowed low before him, and held the tray with the letter upon it out.She thought he would take it instantly and not think twice about it; she waswearing the servant garb, after all, and certainly that made her blend in withher surroundings?

         But he didn’t take it. Notimmediately. The stretch of silence went on so long that Rey had no choice butto lift her gaze, where it instantly caught his. He had been watching her witha mixture of intrigue and intensity on his face, and the second she locked eyeswith him, her entire body went cold.

         This was him. The Supreme Leader ofthe First Order. Potentially the deadliest, most dangerous man in the entiregalaxy was but an arm’s reach away from her, and she didn’t dare blink, lest hetook it as a challenge.

         Surprisingly even to her, her firstthought was that he was not as scary-looking as she’d thought. In fact, he wasroguishly handsome, with luscious dark curls that coiled around his strongjawline and the back of his neck. He wore all black, which only enhanced thelight pallor of his skin tone. He lookslike his father, Rey thought chillingly. She felt a strange, intrinsic urgeto smile, and greet him like she would an old friend. He just had that kind offace. But she bit her tongue and stood up straight.

         “Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowedspeculatively at her. “I’ve never seen you before.”

         “My name is Kira,” Rey said, her voicehigh and clear. “I just joined your service, Supreme Leader, and I am honouredto be here in your presence.”

         His lips quirked up in analmost-smile, like her words amused him on a level she didn’t quite understand.That’s what they told me to say, shereassured herself. Why does he look likehe’s going to laugh in my face?

         “Kira…” Although the name wasn’treally hers, when it was spoken by him, in that contemplative, intriguing tone,it made her wish it was.

         She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

         “What attracted you to my employ?”

         Theidea of redeeming you attracted me here; of being the one to bring you back toyour family. Maybe even the idea of killing you…maybe. Rey almost huffed.She was getting tired of holding the tray out to him. And does he ask all hisservants these questions, or just the ones he’s suspicious of?

         “I come from a long line of Dark Sidesupporters. My mother and father rallied for the Empire, even after its fall.”The words felt hollow on her tongue. She felt strange, speaking of a made-upfamily as if she had ever had one to know the difference.

         “I believe it is my turn to serve,”she continued, her voice steady. “And I am willing to do whatever is needed ofme, if it should help us win this war.”

         Kylo Ren raised an eyebrow and noddedslowly.

         “Good answer.”

         He took the letter off the tray andbegan opening it. Rey bowed one more time and then she got the hell out ofthere.

**

         When Rey had agreed to this undercovermission, she hadn’t thought it would be so difficult. But this was easily thebiggest challenge she’d faced in her life, and she’d been stuck on a ship witha bunch of Rathtars and angry gang members once.

         She had been stationed aboard the Supremacy for nearly two weeks, and she’donly managed to get close to the Supreme Leader five times, none of which gother any closer to her end game.

         She had been sent to pose as Kylo’sservant by the Resistance in an attempt to bring him back to the light and tohis family, but it was proving very difficult to do so. He was a very busy man,and that was becoming painfully apparent to Rey now. Every day he was never inone place for too long, so she just spent much of her time sneaking andskulking around, trying to monitor his every movement until she getsdistracted, or someone snaps at her and asks her what she thinks she’s doing,doesn’t she know she’s supposed to be cleaning the kitchens, and so on. Then bythe time she would finish that task (because it was very important to play her part well), he’d be nowhere to be found.

         That is, until she hit the two-weekmark of her deployment. That’s when everything changed.

         She had been looking for him fornearly thirty minutes. No one seemed to know where he was, and he wasn’t wherehis schedule said he’d be (she quickly got the impression that the schedule wasmore of a suggestion to Kylo Ren, and one that he rarely followed). That’s whyshe was in his quarters, scouring the halls and trying to listen through doors.

         She was just turning the cornertowards the fresher when she ran face-first into something hard and sturdy.Only when she opened her eyes did she realize the thing she’d stumbled into wasthe very man she had been looking for.

         He gazed down at her, nonplussed, andsmirked upon recognizing her face.

         “Ah, it’s you,” he murmured. “What areyou doing down here?”

         Rey’s mouth fell open but no soundcame out at first. She really had to focus to speak all of a sudden.

         “I, uh…was just going to takeinventory of the fresher,” She didn’t even know if that was a thing. It justpopped into her head first.

         Kylo smirked. “No you weren’t.”

         Rey’s heart was hammering against herribcage at a dizzying pace. She suddenly felt trapped, and she hated feelingtrapped.

         “I’m sorry…?”

         “What were you looking for?” he asked.He hadn’t stepped away from her or moved since she’d walked into him. They stillstood close together, almost unbearably so.

         “I-I wasn’t looking for anything—”

         “Was it credits? Food? Were you comingdown here to sleep? What were you looking for?”

         “You,” Rey sputtered. She hadn’t evenrealized the word had crossed her mind before it was crawling out of her mouth.She cleared her throat.

         “I was looking for you.”

         Ren furrowed his brows. “How did youknow I was down here?”

         She shrugged pathetically. “I justknew.”

         “Hmm.”

         The gears in her head were beginningto smoke from turning so fast. What was that advice Poe had given to her beforeshe left? You gotta do what you gotta do?She was really crossing over into new territory here, and she’d be lying if shesaid she wasn’t nervous about it. This could break her whole act, if shestarted flirting with him and he saw right through her. Her blood felt hot in herveins.

         “Don’t you ever experience that?” sheasked, her voice a tempting lilt. “When you know someone so well, that you canfeel them, even when they’re not around? Like an extension of your soul…”

         “You know me that well, do you?”

         “I know you better than you’d everthink, Master Ren,” She smiled as prettily as she could, gazing at him throughhalf-lidded eyes. “What kind of a servant would I be if I didn’t?”

         “Good point,” Kylo’s eyebrows raised. “Whatdo you need from me so badly that you went looking?”

          She took a breath and leaned in just a littlecloser to him, whispering, “I want more.”

         “…More?”

         “I want to serve you; only you. None of those useless Stormtroopers, or the Generalsor Captains or Commanders…I don’t care about them, or their measly needs. You are the Supreme Leader. You will bethe one to usher us in to a new dawn, and I want to be there by your side whenyou do.”

         She watched his mouth and throat workas he swallowed, and colour flooded the high curve of his cheekbones. Heappeared to deflate, just the tiniest bit. He looked at her for a very longtime, letting her words settle over him. Something new and mysterious glimmeredin the depths of his stare, but other than that his expression was unreadable,no matter how hard Rey scrutinized it in her head.

         “That’s very bold of you,” he finallymused, his voice taught with restriction. “Very bold, and very risky. Whatmakes you think I won’t kill you just for taking up so much of my time?”

         Rey inclined her chin proudly. “If youdid, I would consider it an honourable death.”

         After a moment, he cracked a grin, thelikes of which made Rey’s heart come to a deafening stop.

         “Well. I admire your courage, Kira,and your loyalty. Let’s talk.”

         **

         Talking had quickly evolved intoscheming, which had then morphed into the kind of relationship where each halfneeds the other there at all times, just for comfort.

         Rey was about five months into herundercover position, and she was closer than ever to Kylo, who came to her foreverything from advice to mechanical help to dinner company. He had officiallyappointed her as his personal advisor, much to everyone else’s surprise. Sheknew she had him by the tail now. All she had to do was give a couple hard tugs…

         But it was no longer as easy as she’dthought it would be. As he had warmed to her, she had done to same to him. Shelonged for his company each night as she slept alone, and she’d stay awake andthink of something he had said or done earlier that day, and she would log itinto her memory for safekeeping. Every smile, no matter how stiff or small,every hurried whisper and lingering stare…they all meant something to her now.At first it had just been a sign of hope: if he could smile at her that waymaybe he could smile like that all the time, away from here. But then it hadchanged into something more, and Rey wasn’t sure when this had happened. Nowevery time she saw his hand twitch close to hers, she could feel him wanting totouch her, and she could feel herself wanting him to. Just a soft, simple,touch…

         It almost made her feel bad for lyingto him.

         **

         Six and a half months later, and theyhad finally shared a sincerely intimate moment.

         Last week, as they had sat in Kylo’squarters, discussing battle tactics, Rey had noticed that he kept moving alittle closer to her, and a little closer, until his knee was brushing againsthers and he was on the literal edge of his seat. But his face had betrayed nothing,which made Rey wonder if he had hardly even noticed it.

         As it had been getting late, Rey had stifledseveral yawns before Kylo finally suggested she take her leave and go to bed.She had sleepily agreed and, as she placed a hand on the table before them tostand, he had delicately placed his fingers upon hers. She hadn’t been able tocontain the soft gasp which had escaped her mouth. Her eyes had locked onto thesight of their hands touching, lit by the golden flare of the dim lights intheir sconces. His fingertips ran slowly across her knuckles, raising the hairson her arm and the back of her neck. It was a simple gesture, but it was soft,and there was an emotional weight to it that she had never experienced before.

         And just as quick as it had come, hishand had gone, leaving her feeling strangely cold.

         “Goodnight, Kira.” Once again, hisface betrayed nothing. It was maddening.

         Rey bowed, knees trembling slightly,and walked to the door. Before she could cross the threshold, she had lookedover her shoulder to find him with both elbows on the table, staring at hishands. The one which had touched her skin was clenching and unclenching slowlyas he looked at it. It made Rey’s breath catch in her throat.

         Now, he had invited her to attend himat dinner. This was nothing new, of course; he had done this several timesbefore and it had become a normal occurrence by that point. And yet, Rey knewit was going to be different somehow. Just a touch, and everything had changed.

         Her concern was only punctuated by thewhite box she had found sitting atop her bed that evening when she had gone toprepare for their meeting. Cautiously she had approached it, very aware of thefact that it may be from someone who had caught on to her game. But when sheflipped the lid open, the only sight that greeted her was an elegant blackdress, with a high neckline, a thigh-high slit in the side, and an exposedsection about the waist. She had never seen anything so beautiful fit her bodyso well; like it was made especially for her. It hugged her body but wasn’t tootight; it went to the floor but she didn’t tread on it. The silky material itwas made out of shone when it caught the light. She could have stayed andtwirled in front of that mirror for hours.

         Her heart was in her throat the entireway to Kylo’s quarters. She was nervous and jittery and she could onlypartially explain why. There was something else there beneath it all that shecouldn’t quite wrap her head around.

         He had greeted her the same way healways had, with a nod of the head and an open hand gesture, the sign for herto take a seat. She followed orders.

         As they sat down, he said, “That dresssuits you.”

         She grinned. “I agree. Whoever got itfor me has a very good eye.”

         He kept his eyes on his plate of food,but she knew she saw a smile tug on those lips of his.

         The dinner had gone as it usually did:calmly, and interspersed with talk that was strictly professional. Yet Reycouldn’t help but notice the restless way his leg bounced beneath the table,like he was waiting for it to be over.

         Once a droid cleared the table andleft the room, they both felt suddenly nervous, like they had nothing left tohide behind. Unable to stand the tense silence for too long, Rey stood, andwalked over to the expansive windows that looked out at the starry galaxybeyond. She could feel Kylo approach behind her; hear his tentative footfallson the hard floor.

         They looked out at the stars insilence for a while, letting the vastness of it all wash over them. They reallywere just two little specks, off in the distance. Why should they let theirlives be ruined by war?

         Rey turned to face him and was shockedto find him standing very close to her; so close that she almost ran into himagain, as she had fatefully done once before. She raised her eyes to his, andshe saw something there – some flicker of emotion, however nondescript, rightthere in the slight part of his lips, and in the soft crease between hiseyebrows.

         “I really do thank you for the dress,”she whispered, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his closeness to get hervoice to make a sound. “It’s beautiful.”

         “Fitting, then, that it should be wornby someone as lovely as you.”

         Rey’s mouth went dry. He had neverspoken so frankly before. He had never let her know that he thought her to be ‘lovely’before. For a moment she didn’t know how to react to that, but then it clickedinto place and it all came to her in an instant, like an instinctual knowingjust coming to life within her.

         “May I—” He began to ask the question,but she didn’t need to hear it.

         “Kiss me.”

         Their mouths were tender and unsure atfirst as they worked together. They allowed themselves to warm to the delicatesensation of their lips touching in such an intimate way. Rey felt like she wasby an ocean, and the salty waves kept crashing down around her, leaving herrefreshed and renewed in their wake. She was barely aware of any part of herbody that wasn’t touching him which, admittedly, there weren’t many parts left.Her fingers fisted into his hair, her chest pressed firmly to his, and his armswrapped themselves tightly around her waist.

         The window was cool and solid on herback as he pressed her into it and deepened the kiss. Numb fingers worked atbuttons and zippers; not quite sure what to do but eager to do it.

In a perfect world, she could stay in hisarms like that forever, kissing him forever. But it wasn’t a perfect world, notby a longshot, no matter how much she wished it could be so.

         She had forgotten about the homingbeacon she had strapped to a garter holster on her thigh, along with anelectric dagger. As his hands explored her body they had discovered it andpulled it off of her. In an instant, her blood ran cold. The change in hisdemeanor was so quick it was dizzying. As soon as he looked down at the beacon inhis palm, he backed away from her. He rotated it to see its back, where hismother’s sigil was engraved. And of course, he would recognize it anywhere.

         He looked at her, and she watched allthe emotions he had been withholding pass over his face at once: lust,confusion, realization, hurt, and mounting anger. His expression darkenedconsiderably until he was glaring at her, his entire body shaking.

         “Why do you have this?” he asked, hisvoice deadly quiet.

         Rey was almost hyperventilating. Nobreath felt good enough; her lungs were so tense it was like they wererejecting air, unable to expand as her entire chest seized. She thought shemight be sick.

         “I swear, I can explain! Ben—”

          He threw the beacon so hard into a wall itshattered, its blue light slowly fading until it was gone. Now, if the Resistanceneeded to find her, they’d have a much harder time doing so. Rey knew that heknew that, too.

         His hands were trembling fists at hissides. His hair was tousled from her fingers but he didn’t bother to fix it.His eyes were underscored with anger, but they shone bright with hurt, nomatter how hard he may try to hide it.

         Through gritted teeth, he chewed outthree words that brought Rey’s world crashing down around her.

         “Who are you?”

[gaycatpark]

Steak: Milk Toast

Word count: 1918 Synopsis: Felix somehow convinces Max to come meet his mother and embarassing shenangins ensue. Notes: I’ve had this idea for a while. Yeet.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you if I had any other choice.”

Max pursed his lips into a thin, strained line, pulling it taut until it broke, revealing the white wall struggling to hold back. The grimace more a snarl, he swallowed it back, trying not to choke.

He was pathetic in his begging, cawing, cawing, cawing-

“Please,” Felix continued, “I’ll cover your contributions for the next three months. I’ll pick up your tab, too. Hell, I’ll-“

 “Fine.” If only to shut him up.

The look of relief disgusted him more than the desperation. It was sweaty, slick. Oily and thin. At least Felix did not thank him. As he stared at Max, taken aback he had actually agreed, his tongue squirmed cold. He could taste the sourness between them and swallowed hard.

“Thursday after class, then?” Max nodded.

Even as he continued to agree, he regretted it. It was too late now.

Thursday would be here soon enough.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again.” Max stared at the small apartment. It was run down and thin, taller than it was wide, wedged in between others just as ashen and peeling. Someone had recently mowed the strip of lawn, grazing down the weeds to rough bristles.

“Because, Dan couldn’t come.”

“Yeah, but why not reschedule?”

Felix was silent for a long moment. He stared down at his boots. They were both dressed in their best, their red jackets harsh compared to the monochrome of the neighborhood. Felix chewed on the inside of his cheek, before swallowing and managing a sigh,

“She doesn’t believe I have friends.”

“Pardon?” Max wanted to laugh, but the sudden flush in Felix’s face stopped him.

“Dan’s rescheduled so many times she thinks I’m lying. She-” Felix paused to pick at the hem of his jacket, “-just go along with it, okay? Tell her about Dan and the Chivers, okay?”

“Yeah. Fine, whatever.” There was another awkward pause and then, “I won’t tell Dan about that, either.”

“Thanks. Let’s go.” Felix began to shuffle up the walk. Max watched after him, mystified. Maybe it was pity he felt- not sympathy, but a repulse against his patheticness. He had always found Felix to be… well, like that. Perhaps this visit would shed light onto the reason why.

The smell of cooking oil coated the throat as they stepped inside. It felt as if a thin film of grease clung to the smoke-yellowed walls and the faded photographs hanging skewed. Maybe that is why it seeped from his pores and into his personality. The stale cigarette was enough to make Max gag, but the coagulation made him want to vomit. He bit it back and kept his flurry of thoughts from his forehead. Beside him Felix had painted himself in anxiety. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Clenched and unclenched. Clenched. Unclenched. Quick, fluttering heartbeat, the thrumming of frightened wings. Clenched and unclenched.

“Nicolas, is that you?” A voice called from the depths of the kitchen.

“Yes, mama.” Felix’s voice came out no more than a quiet squeak, yet it drifted down the hall all the same. It was a voice meant for these halls; the kind of timidness of a child enveloped by suffocating halls. In the doorway appeared a woman; the spitting image of Felix- tall, thin, angular. But while Felix clung to his sharpness, she seemed to be the kind to fight to defy it, drawing in a lonely warmth. Her face was younger than Max had imagined, though not untouched by crow feet around her bright eyes, eyes that examined him quickly and thoroughly. He feel the analytical cold often held in Felix’s gaze. Yes, they really were near identical to one another, down to their stiff mannerisms.

“You must be Dan, then? Nicolas has told me much about you.” He could feel Felix flinch against him, but his face remained unmoved.

“Yes ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” As she closed the space between them, he held out a hand. He could practically hear Felix screaming in his mind, though his face remained unchanged.

“Please, call me Blanche.” She took his hand, her voice heavy with an accent Max did not recognize. She turned to Felix and threw her arms around him. Though he held her close, swaying slightly, Felix glanced over his mother’s shoulder and stared daggers a Max. He grinned back. Blanche finally released her son, gesturing them into the living room,

“Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea- wait, what is it you always drink? Hold on, I’ll be right back.” And with that she busied herself away. Max sunk into a rundown loveseat that let out a gasp of stale breath. He smiled smugly up at Felix, who paced the room and hissed,

“Why did you do that?”

“You promised her Dan, so here I am.” He shrugged, his gaze examining the bookshelf across from him. Trinkets and mementoes sheltered themselves against slanted books- many in French, some in what almost looked like Russian, though Max knew it wasn’t. Serge would be able to say what it was, but Max had never cared enough to really tell.

Felix followed his gaze to the bookshelf and back. He was chewing on the inside of his mouth with passion, his lips tight even as his nostrils flared. Whatever sharp words he had he choked back as his mother entered again. She carried with her three glasses of milk, which she set down before untucking a tin of cookies from under her arm.

“These have always been Nicolas’ favorite since he was a child,” she explained, giving Max a wink he didn’t quite understand. Max took one of the cookies, a hard, thin little thing, and bit into it. The thing crumbled instantly, coating his mouth with a fake-butter flavor and he distinct staleness of a store shelf. He reached for the milk, letting it wash the taste away.

“Thank you. He has excellent taste. As do you; I was just admiring the décor.” He said, beaming at Blanche, who had seated herself on a mismatched armchair. She beamed back, utterly delighted at his manufactured manners.

“It’s been hard, you know. But I try to make it a home. Especially now that Nicolas is off to college. He still comes home to do his laundry, of course, he’s a good boy, always has been. I want this a place he can bring his friends home to, and, well,” there was a significant pause as Blanche looked down at her hands, then back up at them both,” Nico, sit down. No need to be shy.”

Felix took a stiff sea next to Max, keeping as much space between them as he could on the cramped loveseat. He eyed the cookies, but made no move for them. Max could feel the embarrassment radiating from him and he relished in it.

“He told me all about your little,” she waved her hand, “group. It’s nice to see him in a club, he was so shy, you know.”

“Mama.” Felix’s voice was no more than a sigh, and she did not seem to hear him.

“What kind of club is it, exactly? Nico tries to explain it to me, but I’m too old.” Blanche wrinkled her face in mock disgust and laughed. Max returned a genuine smile. He liked her, he really did. He liked the silent fury from Felix even more. Even so, he threw the poor kid a bone.

“Sports. Sort of like croquet, I suppose. Modern.”

“Oh yes, modern. Like all those- those- surgeries that everyone is getting- no offense. I don’t understand, I’ve told Nico countless times he’s always been handsome, he doesn’t need to cut himself up. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course. He gets his looks from you.” Max nodded along as Felix fumed.

“See?” this was aimed at Felix, quite pointedly so, “those who really matter would find you handsome, no need to change yourself.” Now she turned her attention to Max, seeming to balk for a moment over her words,

“You are handsome in your own way too. As you said, he has excellent taste.”

“Mama.” Felix said it louder now, leaning over to her, “I think maybe it is time to go.”

“Nico…” She looked down into her lap, her smile fading, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t push. And I’m sorry, Dan. You- you mean a lot to my- don’t interrupt me, let me speak- he’s shy so maybe you don’t know that, but someone ought to say it.”

Felix got to his feet.

“We should go. M-Dan and I have an assignment due tomorrow and it’s a long drive back.”

“Nico, please, I’m sorry. Sit back down,” Felix ruefully obeyed, “I just worry about you. You’re so shy. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your <i>friend</i>.”

“It’s okay. Just.. How have you been?” The change of subject was stilted, but his mother jumped on it.

“I have a new word Susanna taught me- you remember, from down the street. The pretty girl with red hair. It describes you perfectly: milk-toast,” she said the word in English, with a sort of practiced thickness. Max gave her a polite smile even as Felix frowned a little.

“I think you mean milquetoast, mama.” Her smile faltered. She reached over to rest a hand on her son’s arm as if she could soothe his anger.

“I will never be as eloquent as you,” turning to Max she said, “he’s always had a way with words, you know.” He did not. To see Felix as a talker, much less a smooth one, sounded rather absurd. Then again, mothers had a way of exaggerating even the smallest glimmer of talent.

“I used to call him Slavuj, my little songbird. He would sit at the windowsill and sing, or recite poetry.”

“Mama, we really should be going.” Felix spoke with less harshness now, though that did not stop tears from welling in the corner of his mother’s eyes.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I was so excited-“

“It’s alright,” Felix stood back up and pulled his mother up with him, hugging her tight, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she choked. They untangled and Max stood up, offering his hand once more.

“It was nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry, you must forgive me; I’m old and lonely.” Blanche laughed it off, and Max gave her his warmest smile.

“I would love to do it again some time.” He said, driving one last jab at Felix. Blanche’s eyes lit up.

“You’re welcome any time. Oh, and Nico, please take the cookies with you.”

“I’ll be back Sunday, mama.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She followed them to the door, leaning against as they said their last farewells.

“Oh, and Dan? Take good care of him.”

“I promise.” Max gave one last smile and a small wave before he followed Felix back to the truck. She watched as they peeled away, waving the whole time.

It wasn’t until they were out of sight of the apartments that either of them spoke,

“If you tell anybody about this, I’m going to murder you,” was all Felix said as he slumped against the window. He crossed his arms and shut himself off from the rest of the world, though Max could see his scowl reflected in the window.

Slavuj. Songbird.

Perhaps the crow had a gentler side to him after all.

[dearlazerbunny]

Welcome to Gravity Falls

Pairings: None

Genre/Warnings: None

Words: ~2500

- Summary: After deciding to go exploring, Dipper and Mabel Pines of Gravity Falls find themselves in a very different sort of woods…

Hot and dense was the weather of worn Gravity Falls. Standing in solidarity against the muggy air was the Mystery Shack, which clung to its crumbling foundation with an impressive tenacity. Amongst supernatural attacks and incredulous happenings, the only thing that seemed to contribute to the weathered air of sleepiness the shack gave off was the periods of intense nothings it fell victim to from time to time. Today was one such day: the sluggishness of the oppressive heat permeated the town and left it sitting idly underneath the summer sun. Citizens took refuge where they could, gathering at the local pool and lake, but all in all it was a quiet day in a town that was used to being anything but quiet.

Hat angled to block the sun streaming through the window, Dipper Pines sat on the check out counter that hunkered in his uncle’s Mystery Shack, savoring the shade. His twin sister Mabel sat cross legged on the floor nearby, occupied with her sweater-du-jour; a feathered monstrosity whose emerald plumes were of an undetermined origin. Wendy, the gift shop assistant, stood  languidly at the cash register,  talking in relaxed tone to present company. But mostly Dipper. Clearly, her head was angled more towards him than his sister, so that means she’s talking to him. Right? Right. He adjusted his hat awkwardly and made a half-hearted attempt to understand what band Wendy was dissecting. The unending crush he had on her helped a little in the attention category. 

“Man, that woodpecker has been going at it.” The bird in question had been ruthlessly pecking at a tree for the better part of the morning; Dipper was pretty sure the echoes could be heard in the Bottomless Pit. Wendy threw her head towards the half open window.

“Don’t give up! You got this!” She gave a little fist punch in support of the lone song resonating through the trees.

“Why are there so many of those around here?” Dipper asked, swinging his legs against the side of the counter.

“I dunno man.” She rolled her head around to look at him, tucking a piece of red hair behind her ear. “Why does anything happen in those woods?”

Dipper nodded, acknowledging the point. You know, that’s true. Everything weird that’s happened this summer has been coming from the forest: gnomes, minotaurs, even the diary was hidden in an old tree…

Lost in thought, he barely caught the jawbreaker Wendy tossed him from the glass jar sitting to her right. The sugary blue eye stared up at him. “Don’t tell Stan,” Wendy winked as she tossed a ball into her mouth. “Haha, no- no! Of course not. Haha.” Mortified,  he shoved the sugar into his cheek before he could say something even more intelligent.

The Mystery Shack’s door tinkled an off-key dissonance. “Soos! Hey! Check out my sweater!” Mabel was giddy as she leapt up and sped her way over to the big man.

“Right on! That sweater is awesome.” He looked around, taking in the empty shop.

“Hey Dipper, Hey Wendy.” Wendy nodded in that completely cool and mysterious way that she did. Not that Dipper noticed or anything.

“Hey Soos.” He worked the gumball over to the other side of his mouth. “Nice job being early for work.”

“Thanks man!” He held out his hand for a fist bump, and Dipper obliged. “So, what’s going on here?”

“Not much. Hey, does it seem strange to you that no one knows why there are so many woodpeckers in the woods?” Dipper asked.

“No. Don’t think about the woods. One time I did that and I got a massive headache. Not fun.”

Dipper made a noncommittal noise. “Well, now that you’re here, you and Wendy can handle the shop. Mabel, can I talk to you about something? Upstairs?”

“Okay! Last one there’s a muddy pineapple!” She was off in a streak of green, heedlessly knocking over an entire stand of t-shirts that read “See what all the mystery is about!” Dipper heaved off the counter and dashed after her, smiling at the laughter behind him. They raced up the old wood hallways and up to the attic, eventually tumbling over themselves in fits of laughter and ending up sprawled on the floor.

Elbowing her twin off of her, Mabel suppressed a hiccup. “I win!”

“Yeah, right, you know I won,” Dipper teased her, poking her stomach and releasing the massive hiccup. She sprang off the floor and landed right back where she was, sending them into fits once again. 

“Oh, man.” Mabel wiped her hair back from her face. “Why are we up here anyways?”

“Oh!” Dipper stood up and went to rummage under his bed, emerging with the mysterious six-finger diary he used to navigate Gravity Falls.  “What Wendy said down there, about the forest? She’s right! Think about it- name one weird thing that’s happened that hasn’t come out of that forest.”

Mabel twirled her hair. “Mermando!” 

Fair enough. “Okay, besides him.”

She shrugged. “Whaddya wanna do about it?”

Dipper assumed his best I Have A Great Idea Voice. “I propose we hike into the woods. As far as we can. We know about what lives in the woods- well, most of it- but how well do we actually know the wood itself?”

Mabel grabbed a hairbrush and ran it idly through her mane, ignoring when it got caught in the curls at the bottom. “Can I bring Waddles?”

“Wha- no! Mabel, He’ll just slow us down! Why do you need to bring a pig?”

“Ugh, you never let me do anything fun Dipper!” She chucked the hairbrush at him, aiming for his face but as it is grazing his arm.

“Mabel…” He rubbed what he liked to call his bicep. “I just don’t want Waddles to get hurt.” She softened. “Tell you what- if we go without Waddles, we can sit on the roof tonight and throw water balloons.”

Mabel chewed her lip, considering the (admittedly) very generous deal. “Okay, fine. But you can’t whine about it being all dangerous up there either!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He held out his hand, and Mabel took it, levering herself off the floor. 

“But I am totally bringing the picnic basket!”

_______________________________________________________________

Days later, once the heat had broken and settled into something less scorching, the pair headed off West of the Mystery Shack. Dipper had extensively planned and prepared, boasting a pack stuffed to the brim full of useful things (compass, journal, portable radio…) and Mabel, well. Mabel had indeed packed a picnic basket as promised, as well as an inexplicable small plastic llama she snuck in there underneath the sandwiches without Dipper noticing. Armed with supplies, they headed into the forest following a map Dipper found leafing through the journal. Where it led, neither of them were exactly sure, but it was much better than their previous plan of wandering around aimlessly.

As the day led on, they wound through ravines, hiked up small cliffs, and generally marveled at the seemingly endless wonders of the woods. Flocks of huge predatory birds would take off from the treetops whenever they passed underneath, and caves promised something sinister lurking in their depths. As the sun climbed and then began to set, their food supplied slowly dwindled to nothing more than water. The shadows lengthened and seemed to threaten harm. Unnerved by the silence, barely punctured by the rustling and calling of the wild animals (or.. beings…) Dipper fiddled with the dial on his portable radio. With a crackle, it began to broadcast Gravity Falls’ local news station.

“Today the weather in Gravity Falls is starchy.”

“Oh yeah, I can definitely feel the starch Dipper. Feeeeeeeeeeell the starch.” She made exaggerated grabbing motions in the air in front of her.

They continued on, buoyed by the small comfort of home. The trees seemed to grow smaller as they progressed… Dipper made a note of it in the journal.

“Has it gotten hotter?” Mabel pulled out a water bottle and gulped some down. Dipper shook his head, but made a note of that too. On and on they went, through the rapidly thinning trees and hotter and hotter atmosphere.

“The city pool will be raising its admittance fee to seven dollars, from the previous six fifty.”

“I’m hungry,  Dipper.”

Muttering, Dipper held the pages closer to his  face. “The book said to turn left at the second rock, but we seem to have-”

“Second rock?! We’ve passed two hundred thousand rocks!”

The radio continued its segment on the new exhibit in the local museum on bullfrogs. “This has been Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!”

If the twins had been listening, they might have noticed that no such segment ran on the Gravity Falls local news station. But they were not, and so the flippant tones of a man they had never heard fell on metaphorically deaf ears. “Mr. Zackwaski is hungry, Dipper.”

Dipper frowned. “Who?

“Mr. Zackwaski!” She waved her pink plastic stowaway near his face. Dipper ignored her sentiment and turned his attention to the now crackling radio. Fiddling with the knob for a few minutes, the lines on his face grew deeper as he couldn’t recover any sort of signal. Eventually it cut out completely, and the two were left sitting in the ever-growing dark, listening to the night sounds a forest makes. A few birds, some coyotes, and was that… whispering? The wind, surely.

“Where are we, Dipper?”

“I don’t know. Pretty far away I guess. But the compass says we’ve only walked- four miles.” He squinted at the sky. “If we hurry, and ignore that hedge labyrinth on the way back, we’ll make it home a little after nightfall.” The radio suddenly hummed to life. They both jumped as the mechanical noise echoed through the trees.

“And now, a word from our sponsors. Feeling Lost?”  Dipper grinned when Mabel nodded her head enthusiastically. “Feeling like life is a meandering spiral into the depths of nowhere? Life is like that sometimes. Sometimes, this  pathetic existence feels like a cruel joke played on us unsuspecting bags of meat by some higher power that is known, and also, unknown. Sometimes, we shudder to think that this life as we know it is pointless. Sometimes, we dare to think about life.” “Big Rico’s Pizza. Because no one does a slice like Big Rico’s. No one.”`

“Pizza! Dipper that’s food!” Mabel grabbed the radio and held it closer, presumably to hear it better. A few flocks of startled birds took off from the nearby treetops.

“I don’t think this signal came from Gravity Falls, Mabel. We’ve been here all summer- have you ever heard of Big Rico’s Pizza?”

“The man on the radio is talking about pizza. I want pizza, Dipper!”

He hesitated, listening to the smooth voice resonating through the speakers.

“We should head back. We don’t know where this is coming from.”

Mabel rolled her eyes and started forward before her stick-in-the-mud brother could protest. “So let’s find out. You’re the one who wanted to figure out the forest. There could be a whole city in there and you’re too grumpy to go and find it!”

“Fine, fine. All right, Mabel, stop pulling on me!” Reluctantly, he shoved the radio- which was now playing music, though the man had previously promised the weather- into his pocket, grabbed their gear, and followed after her. As they walked, the signal became stronger. After squishing over a hill, Dipper realized the soil had turned sandy, a rich gold compared to the muddy brown beneath Gravity Falls. 

“Weird,” he murmured, scanning the journal for any hint that this was normal for the area. Mabel kept amazing pace- he should have promised her there was an ice cream parlor at the end or something, she’d have moved so much faster- but after walking over the hundredth hill and passing the same trees, he grew frustrated with their walking in circles. The mysteries of the forest seemed to be growing thin.

“I spy with my little eye, something that is green.”

Dipper sighed. “Mabel, this whole forest is green.”

“To make it extra hard, duh.” She giggled, elbowing him in the side. He smiled in spite of himself. “That tree.”

“Actually it was the third branch on that tree, but I’ll give it to you anyways. Your turn!”

They lobbied back and forth between themselves as the shadows grew longer beneath their feet. Fascinating spied objects ranged from “that vein of sand near your pinkie toe” to “your weirdo birthmark” (Dipper didn’t appreciate that one). After a few rounds, Mabel suddenly ran through the clearing. 

“I spy something that is purple!” Her voice rang from between the trees. “What are you talking about? The only thing here is-”

He stopped. Rising before them was a weathered, faded sign with drippy purple writing: WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE, established… Dipper wasn’t entirely certain that was a number. The boards were warped, with edges chipped and scored with- claw marks? Further on, they could catch glimpses of small houses and buildings tucked into the dusty desert. Desert? He was 99.9% certain where they were standing should not resemble the Sahara, and yet, here they were. Looking back, the massive trees that had surrounded them for months seemed small and immaterial compared to the dunes and sun rising before them.

Mabel, to her credit, seemed completely unconcerned with the change in scenery or her brother’s incredulous murmuring. “Come on, Dipper! I think I see a road-” She fearlessly scrambled up the nearest sandy hill and kept on, her brother tailing behind her, too deep in shock to do much protesting. Underneath his incoherent mumblings and Mabel’s happy chatter, the man on the radio was speaking:

“Well, Night Vale, it seems we have some unexpected visitors. There are two small life forms entering the East part of town. One wears a hat marked with a tree, and the other a green sweater. Undoubtably, these are marks of the Whispering Forest- perhaps it has started reproducing through humanoid figures? In any case, dear listeners, be on your guard- the Forest is rarely as innocuous as it seems. More on this story as it develops.”

A/N: Because no one can convince me that Gravity Falls isn’t located inside the Whispering Forest…

[coffeeselfies]

This is technically the “I think I need coffee,” selfie, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted that I figured anything was better than nothing.

I’m still trying to sleep through the inspiration of a very wonderful Bob Goff.

I. love. him.

But on to darker things, like my not-so-distant past!

Hahaha. So I was looking for an old assignment I e-mailed myself, and instead found a bunch of cryptic-heavy things I had texted one of my rarely used e-mails from my phone.

So of course I’m going to put them together, here, since I will probably just lose them otherwise. And because everyone on the internet loves reading the things I e-mail to, well, myself (WAIT, DO I NOT HAVE FRIENDS, WHAT IS MY LIFE). :p

4/12/12 - A veces no quiero hablar Por Nada con mis amigos. Solamente, "Hoy me dice ,estas loca, pero le esta loco a Juan!" Y mas Nada. Yo quiero hablar about cosas lejas. Ayer y Hoy hable con jean y veronika, solamente small talk primer. Pero despues, yo decido hablar about the things which I was.actually thinking about lately, the deeper layers. My thoughts were kind of awkward. Random. But I'm so glad I did, it lead to such good convos! As if, although my own thoughts or specific revelation (another one about love, of course), but led to true, sincere convos from the heart. Yes! Thank you, Lord. It's funny how I won't open up and ill get frustrated at the lack of depth in a conversation, yet really all I need to do in some cases is just jump right into the true issues. Ahh small talk kills me.

3/4/12 - He asked us a few questions: Who are you using?

How are you using them?

Physically. Sexually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Monetarily.

How can you restore that? Who's using you? Do you love money, and use people?

Or do you love people, and use money?

5/9/12 I think my id and superego are in conflict... I prefer that psychological term to saying that right vs wrong or my flesh is in rebellion, I guess. I just want to do all sorts of things that aren't of God, and i don't even know what to do. I think I need to just remember that life is short, and not about what I want. I'm getting too caught up in the worldly details, my visions going, my path, every time I think I'm expanding it, is getting more and more limited. Goodnight, from post Dave n busters with cartel, post umsl, going to school tmrw. 

5/17/12 - "Can you keep a secret?" I should have realized by now that this question should be answered with fear and heaviness rather than curiosity.

5/29/12 - I dreamt that, after they thought I had left, my parents started fighting. Loudly, viciously, hatefully. I came down shouting, 'stop it, stop it!!' But their heads were already covered in blood, as I'd they were going to kill eachother. I never found out if they stopped or not, because dad called to me in real life from the other room. At first I wondered if I had really been shouting, and that's why he had contacted me, but no, it was just about bulk trash being today. Something sounds like its gnawing on something, I can hear and feel the vibrations of it through my pillow. Creepy. 

6/4/12 - I have always been a compassionate person – making little houses for wounded snakes and worms – befriending the kid who’s got no one but himself for company, partnering with the girl who doesn’t really speak English. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve recognized that God has been faithful in granting me patience, mercy, and grace as well, and I know that these are not my own,  but I am meant to share them with the very people God has give me a heart for – the downtrodden, broken, and outcast, and ultimately just humanity in general.  This has, more or less, been my (more recent) life pursuit. To follow God’s Will for my life, regardless of where it takes me. So far that has meant giving hope to weary and often lost travelers of Amsterdam, mentoring at risk juveniles and raising awareness for human trafficking in Los Angeles, running English and Summer-School programs for Chinese immigrants in New York City, training and creating jobs for families in Haiti, as well as hosting events and creating opportunities for girls to leave brothels , learning how to run a business in Mexico while also helping out at various orphanages for disabled Children, and even just being there for my own family and friends when they’ve needed it most. It has meant months of Ministry Training schools, years of living in International Community Houses, working in roles that range from administration, to construction, to managerial, and an ever growing reliance on and relationship with Jesus Christ.I’ve been back in Saint Louis for a year now,

7/1/12 - Today started strangely, my head still a little blurry from the wine from the night before. I went to church, very late, where daren had a cupcake waiting for me. Why? Because Tuesday I had admitted I had experienced some downer bdays and he realized that it was my half birthday. Mom came, cried, we hugged, went to the church picnic.. I went home, told dad about her accident, and he just started weeping, so hard that his nose began to.bleed. I stroked his hair and.got a bit teary eyed.and then we got.on our knees and prayed... Later was feeling down and missing Luke, but jean got me out.

11/11/12 - And with your hands in the air, your feet barely touching ground, I take that smile to mean that life is finally turning 'round. And we laugh til we cry and we dance til we cant, and I feel free as can be each time I see that gleam in your eye. Then the secrets come out and its less about being blessed and more about a high. So when you're dancing I'm wondering if that's you, and when you're singing, I know you would be singing.the blues... But that gleam in your eye, well really its more of a glaze all along, I just saw what I wanted as you,strung me along. 

12/20/12 -

Well the queens off her throne Hiding in a stairwell Feet strewn about the stairs Seeming barely aware That her kingdom awaits The king, divorced long ago He's crying Where's his iron fist? Seems he's traded it for sentiment "Pathetic!" He might self accuse If only his tears would let him Seems everything's a dream these days, Some hellish, some sweet But all 

--

I used to find the idea of receiving a text in the middle of the night strange.

Now, after years of practice, I find it comforting, perhaps a reminder that I am not so alone as I would feel.

I hadn't realized this, of course, until now.

Now, when I wake up to nothing but darkness and my own thoughts.

Now, when, regardless of whether I toss myself awake at 2am or 4am, there is no message.

There's nothing to reassure me that there's another person in this world who is awake and eager to share a moment, even a small, electronic message with me.

1/11/13 - Today Gave my testimony. Adopt a block, played ninja. Eva likes hanging out with Christians. I break rules and have real convos with the disciples. Play bs. Go to angelus temple. Do food distribution. Met hosea who talked to us because he thought I was pretty, was super catholic, thought tim was my bf, etc etc etc

1/29/13 - Oh hi, I'm feeling cold and pathetic, and thought I would ... Email myself. That seems fitting. Somehow emailing yourself feels much more pathetic than just journaling. Right now I feel like I wish anyone, absolutely anyone , would sit down across from me. Even the old creepy man who, after asking a few non essential questions, left me for the warmth of the indoors, or... I don't know, a donut. Why do I feel like this.Lord? Is it because I am not so busy in school? Is it because Adam moved and despite the fact that I was barely hanging out with him last semester anyway, he was a crutch, and knowing that at 1am when I feel pathetic and lonely and confused, I can't even text someone I know would care? I mean. I know others would care. But we aren't exactly on that level just yet. What is my life? Why am I this way, and why do I want attention for it? Or why do I feel the need to find someone who would , what, save me ? From myself.? From my thoughts? Why am I seeking comfort in shallow things, the wings of friends and acquaintences and , frick, anything. Whywhywhywhy. I don't know. Is this what life is like for people? Lord, you are the one God, the only thing worth it, you are good when no one else is, am I getting caught up in things that I shouldn't, what am I even going on about? Life life life. It's all good, right

2/13/13 - (From a voice to text translator)

tomorrow I'm supposed to have an awkward cuddling session with my love scene manager and a love my phone from church I'm not sure how I get myself into these awkward situations but I definitely am good at it office tomorrow my uncle is moving in for a month but should be really awkward and I wish that I had a lock on my door and the house I'm learning that the things that I desire to have a find myself feeling empty when I do get them but I'm happy about it because it gets me clarity because it shows me that nothing else really matters is just kind of in my head really got the only thing that matters is the only thing I should pursue S I miss Adam I know you won't hang out that much before you left but now I guess I'm missing him double I don't know I don't know what I mean exactly but he's been gone a few weeks now and it's weird not having a best friend to talk to you about everything I have a lot of friends I have a lot of good friends but this is different it is different when you have someone who knows so much about you already and you don't have to tell the back story every time you tell them a new story because I already know who so I'm so is or why you feel that way or white was a bad idea that you did that so I'm also giving up ice cream and I'll call for lunch and I'm going to be time to eat a lot better subject tomorrow hopefully that I've also really just been wanting to be free of employment just live and everyday wake up and say what I want to do without help homeless people if I want to make something I want to sell another day love you babe I wanna go out with a friend I make my card I definitely don't want to spend 5 shifts a week at cartel but at the same time I don't feel like I'm self disciplined enough to not have a job I'm just getting tired of the creepers and the internet the kids off work as well as yeah I don't know ent from my HTC on the Now Network from Sprint!

8/18/13 -

Woke up really missing my dad. Go figure. Able to properly seduce emotions into a flat, shruggable denial ever since those first few days, and now, on the day I hoped to "stay strong" the most, I can't stop thinking of part of the song he wrote for Rachel, only now in regards to him - "I miss you, in the summertime.. I miss you, in the wintertime.. I miss you - all the time. I love my Rachel Sue." Only.. Daddy-o, or something. Ahhh.. Thank you, Lord, for such a kind father. Please help today glorify your name, run smoothly.. its so obvious we can't do it without you.

8/19/13 - I miss my dad. I am sad that I'll never have him burst in my room in November at three am with pancakes and lit birthday candles because he started thinking about some of the birthdays of mine he had missed, and wanted us to be able to celebrate  together. I can't drink milk or even look at rootbeer without hearing him ask for some, so eagerly, and then sigh 'mmmm, now that's good,' so contentedly after his first sip. I miss that his crazy stories are not going to be things that I share in everyday conversation with my friends, because they're all old stories and it will seem out of place. who do i have to talk to about my dad? no one. it makes everyone sad. theres no one to just share his life with, aside from close family, and that will be limited. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so strong. What does that mean?I'm strong because I didn't start sobbing when I spoke? Because I'm smiling and laughing with you? Is that strength or disposition? Blake said that I was handling this better than anyone he's ever seen deal with death. What does that mean? 

12/13/13

I see a sadness in your eyes.Behind the words, another message.The weight of your world becomes tangible, heavy, a thickness that weights me like a fog rolling in with, strapping invisible bricks to my body. Sometimes it's your words, blatant and straightforward, other times it's the sighs, the eyes that flash with emotion for just a moment, Did you know that's been seen? So many words, how can they be contained? I hear things you've never said, I see 

1/03/14-

I've tried reflecting on 2013.. tried finding words which could somehow, miraculously encapsulate all of the growth, struggle, joy, depression, transformation, and experiences that it contained. It will be one of the most memorable years of my life, for many reasons, but it may also be one of those years that the full impact of may be lost on me for awhile now.In the past few weeks, I've been looking through journals, photos, and letters, remembering and realizing exactly how many changes this year has brought. Led my first missions trip, felt the loss of saying goodbye to one of my best friends, discovered what living with not just my dad, but my uncle Ken, five chickens, two cats, two ducks, a dog, and whoever else decided to stay over was like, became the missions director at middletree church, became an AUNT to the most beautiful little Emelia Skye, gained a new set of amazing and wonderful friends, played nurse/daughter/friend/staff member/sister/maid/hopsicecare/barista/student/leader to the point of confused identity and exhaustion, left cartel to become part of the Caife Caife family, DIDN'T leave the country for the first time in yeaaaaars, actually had to turn down exciting travel/jobs, speaking opportunities, and a leadership position with a non-profit (rather than seek them out, like usual), spent 7 months of the year experiencing the beauty, hardship, and love of caring someone who is dying in more and more ways every day, the trauma and release of my dad's actual death, the months following that are nothing but fog, sorrow, and blurred memories, the 14-state family road trip of a lifetime, moving to the Loop with Dani, experiencing being 'home for the holidays' without any actual family to be home with, and .. I don't know.. the Sara of today, who can look back on things only a year ago and find I have a whole new perspective on them. ..I only wrote one public (well, as public as it can be when I have a total of 8, predominately inactive followers) blog post in 2013, mostly talking about overcoming fear to become the person I feel I'm called to be. It was mostly inspired by revelations from the LA Dream Center trip, and I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to look back on the goals and dreams I wanted so desperately to become a reality, and to be able to say that, even through all the changes and sorrow of this year, that they were able to come to fruition. I'm not in to new years resolutions, but I do highly recommend kickstarting your year with an inspiring, transformative experience, which can set the trajectory for how you are going to live, what goals you will meet or fall short of (but still come closer to, which is still GROWTH, something to celebrate!) in the coming adventure of 2014. No matter what 2013 held, don't let fear of who you were just last month keep you from being who you want to be tomorrow. This little blog post is nice for me to re-read, because it reminds me of my fears, and what overcoming them, even one step at a time, can lead to. 2013 was a hard year for me, but it has also brought me to exactly where I feel I'm supposed to be right now. 

1/29/14 - "I'm good" I wore the reassuring words like a blanket. Cover, no, smother whatever was beneath, within.   Protect yourself from the cold, vulnerable words might slip thru the holes in the blanket... exposed means they can feel temperature of your meaning. Heavy, heat from the heart. you can feel their response.  Pray for a warm touch, but there's always risk of icicle daggers

2/19/14

it's just that

I have a lot of thoughts

ideas, fears, ..a lot of places that I'd like to explore

But they feel so heavy when it's just me and them

feels like there’s a lot of trees to climb before i get to the clouds

and I'd like to share them with someone

who cares about them just as much as I do,

someone with just as much to risk,

who understands each side of the story.

And sometimes, I see planets in those eyes,

but have no rocketship to get me there

And I see that depth, but there's just no way to tap in

Im searching for someone to explore with

those infinite galaxies in your mind and mine.

Someone to make sense of it,

write poetry about it

but not get so caught up that it's just us - no

Always God first.

Always seeking his planets, his stars, his truth..

and maybe that's the adventure..

[bookwormchocaholic]

The Lonesome Road: Chapter 4

A03

Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three

SYNOPSIS:  Belle is drawn to her employers’ neighbor and is surprised when he offers to help her out of a difficult situation.

Note: Not beta-ed, expect mistakes.

Rating: M

Special thanks to @onceuponanovel for the gorgeous artwork!!!!

February 1934

Belle chased the melting glob of lard around in the skillet using a two pronged fork and then laid the freshly cut strips of bacon on the bubbling grease. The pan hissed as it fried, spitting bits of hot liquid on the backs of her hands and wrists, but she was too distracted to pay much mind.

Wilby was at her feet, whining for food. He knew that he would get his left over scraps later, but that never stopped him from pressing his luck.

Much had changed in the three months since she had married. Each day she grew a little fonder of Rowan. He was not wax poetic, but he showed his feelings through actions. From the way he held her, how tender he was in bed, how he kissed her at random moments, or brought home books and chocolate for her at the end of the day, or how he valued her opinions and listened to her counsel. Rowan might not love her any more than she loved him, but their marriage was far better than the Mills’ couple.

Best of all, she was no longer alone in the world. Rowan was her family now.

The back door swung open and shut. Her husband wiped his feet on the mat and he trudged into the kitchen. She stilled, knowing that he was going to hug her from behind, as he did customarily every morning. It was something she looked forward to.

Rowan’s hands slid around her waist and inched downwards, making the ache between her thighs intensify. “Smells good.” He pressed his lips to the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Belle squeaked when he scraped his teeth there. “Should be ready in a bit.”

They had made loved earlier that morning before rising and she liked to believe that she was improving. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Perhaps he no longer thought of Cora and now preferred her.

“I meant you.” He laved the spot with the tip of his tongue. “Delicious.”

Belle took a deep breath and made a pathetic attempt to concentrate on the meal. Not that she could. Her husband knew how to make her knees quiver.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her and she dropped the fork. Slapping her hand over her mouth, Belle untangled herself from Rowan, went around the dog, and bolted out the back door.

She made it to an old oak tree and vomited on its roots. In between heaves, Rowan had joined her and drew her hair to the side, and rubbed her lower back. When the vomiting ceased and her stomach settled down, Belle straightened.

“Belle!” Rowan probed around in his trouser pocket and handed her his handkerchief. “Are you all right?” He cradled her cheek and thumbed it.

“Sorry.” Belle blotted the sour moisture from her lips. “The smell made me sick.” Her throat still burned from the acidic juices.

“You look pale. Why not go back upstairs and rest?” He suggested.

Belle shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was laze about in bed the way Cora did. If he thought that she was anything like Cora, he might tire of her and cast her aside.

Rowan slid his arms across her shoulders and guided her back inside. “At least go stretch out on the sofa. I’ll finish breakfast.” He pressed a kiss to her brow and gestured her towards the living room. “Go on.”

Belle wobbled to the sofa and slumped down, praying that this bout of sickness would pass quickly.

#

The nausea tapered off later on in the day, only to return the next morning, and the morning after that. What followed was a flurry of nerves, mood swings, and lethargy. Belle would doze in the early evening in the midst of cuddling with Rowan and at night when she did sleep in their bed, she would wake herself snoring. She would mumble apologies to her husband, who was sitting up and watching her, with a thoughtful expression on his sleepy face.

After three weeks of these peculiar symptoms, they went to see Dr. Whale. The examination had been quick and routine, but her unknown condition set her on edge. For all she knew, she was dying. She had finally found a measure of happiness and she was going to die!

Belle fidgeted in her seat which was directly across from the doctor’s desk. She calmed when Rowan grasped her shoulder and rubbed soothing circles into it.

“It’ll be all right.” Rowan assured her, his tone soft as velvet. “Whatever it is, we’re going to be fine.”

Belle nodded and inhaled a soothing breath, offering a watery smile.

Dr. Whale swept through the office and plunked down in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I have a diagnosis.”

“Will I be all right?” Belle frowned, irritated that the doctor could be so cavalier.

Dr. Whale folded his arms on top of his desk. “You will be. In seven and half months. Mrs. Gold, you are expecting a baby. Congratulations.”

Belle gasped, unable wrap her mind around it. A baby! Things had become irregular, her monthly curse had been late…very late. She hadn’t given it much thought, thinking it due to all of the changes.

But it was a baby.

Turning to her husband, she was beaming, and found him nodding and his eyes glistening.

Belle pushed herself up from her chair, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed Rowan squarely on the lips.

Her husband chuckled, bemused by her excitement. Happy and bemused…but not as surprised as he should have been.

#

Belle sucked in a breath as Rowan peeled back the skirt of her nightgown past her navel. He leaned over and he kissed her still-flat tummy.

Following the doctor appointment, they returned home and saw to their various chores, had dinner and turned in early. Preferring to celebrate their news alone. In bed.

Her stomach muscles quivered beneath his hot lips.

Belle raked her fingers through his hair and sighed. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby. We’re going to be parents. Are you happy?”

They hadn’t talked much of children, though during his proposal Rowan confessed to wanting to have a family. Of course neither could have guessed that it would happen this soon. That in seven months or so they would have a baby of their very own. They had each other and they would soon have a baby – she would never have to be lonely again.

Rowan rested his chin on her belly and gazed up at her. “I’m not unhappy.” He snickered, his fingertips dancing across her tummy, tickling it. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been this happy before in my life. I didn’t know that I could be. And you’re happy?”

“I am.” Belle said quickly and tilted her head as she studied his earnest expression. “Rowan, during the doctor appointment, you seemed happy, I could tell. But you didn’t seem surprised.”

“Well, I wondered.” The tips of his ears reddened and the hue flooded to his cheeks. “I thought it might be a baby. I hoped that it would be.” He admitted.

Belle felt like crying – albeit they would be happy tears. That he was so aware of the symptoms and the changes in her made her loved him all the more.

Losing herself in his brown depths, she rested her hand against his cheek. I do love him. When it happened and how, she didn’t know. Perhaps she had loved him from the start. But he doesn’t love me. Rowan was good to her, considerate and thoughtful; he put her needs above his own. He was a wonderful husband and would make a wonderful father. What more could she ask for? Love. Deep down, she wanted Rowan to love her in return.

Perhaps someday he would.

“I can’t believe you knew before I did. That’s so sweet.” Belle swallowed, but a lump had formed in her throat.

“You’re sweet.” Rowan replied, easing the nightgown up the rest of the way and over her head.

He trailed kisses upwards and claimed her mouth.

Her arms looped around his waist and cupped his bottom.

This can be enough, for now. Belle decided as her husband slid into her.

#

Belle’s brow furrowed as she peered out the front window and noticed a 1931 Black Ford coasting to stop on their road. She grabbed her shawl and wrapping it about her shoulders; she stepped out onto the porch. Wilby trailed after her, unwilling to leave her side. The dog rarely left her alone, always hovering nearby. She and Rowan soon deduced that the dog sensed that she was with child and Wilby was watching over her.

On closer inspection, she recognized the blond, young man in the driver’s seat as David Nolan. David Nolan visited now and then, mostly with Rowan. Once in a while he brought his wife, but Belle got the distinct impression that Mary Margaret disliked Rowan by how the dark haired woman often turned her nose up at him. Truth be told, Belle did not care for Mary Margaret, how the woman could not keep a secret to save her life, and was glad that she hadn’t accompanied David.

“My husband is out.” Belle called out to David when he climbed out of the car. She hugged herself, shivering under the assault of the mid-winter blusters. Rowan had been making late afternoon errands into town and never returned until the sun set. “He’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Sorry to show up unannounced. Just passing along a message.” David nodded and doffed his hat. “Mr. Mills is out of town and Mrs. Mills swears that a hobo was trying to break into the house. The lock is busted anyhow. Mrs. Mills wanted me to tell you that your husband is there with her, trying to fix the lock, and that he won’t be back until late.”

Belle could feel the blood draining from her face and stumbled back against the siding of the house. Her heart picked up its pace and a throbbing between her ears formed.

Rowan was with Cora. He had been lying to her for days now, making up excuses so that he could be with his former lover. Never mind that he had vowed to her in the sight of God to be faithful to her, or that she was expecting his child. Perhaps that had been the plan all along. Marry her, get her with child, and once she had served her purpose, he would take up with his lover again.

None of the kisses or caresses, his supposed kind gestures, was real. They had all been part of a ploy to fool her.

And Cora…Cora was sending her a message. Belle may have married Rowan and may have a child with him, but that woman had Rowan at her beck and call. And there is nothing I can do about it. Cora would always be first in his heart.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Gold?” David asked, taking a step towards her.

Belle gulped and schooled her features. “Yes, of course.” She did not want her neighbors to know of her marital woes, to pity her for having a philandering husband, or to gossip about her behind her back.

Wilby touched his cold nose to her fingers and cocked his head to scrutinize her.

David’s confused expression cleared and he nodded. “My wife is expecting a child. It helps to rest often.” He put his hat back on his head and headed back to the Ford. “Well, have a good evening.”

Belle waved as he drove off, rolling her eyes. No doubt David would go home to Mary Margaret and inform his wife that she too was expecting. It wouldn’t be long before everyone in Storybrooke would know of her baby. And it wouldn’t be long before the town figured out that Rowan was fooling around with Cora.

She ducked back into the house, slammed the door and folded herself into the corner of the sofa. Choking back sobs, she realized she hadn’t felt so lost and alone since her father died.  

Wilby laid down on the floor beside her, his tail drooped. He knew something wrong.