#and then instead he spent the evening bounding with the kids sharing a precious family game

[icharchivist]

EXCUSE ME THIS IS SO CUTE?? THEY’RE BOTH BEING CUTE HELP???

#also i am soft that this backstage started while he as trying to escape a girl asking him on a date #and then instead he spent the evening bounding with the kids sharing a precious family game #and then dragged Izumi into it as well because he has fun with her too and she's part of his family too #anD THEY'RE BOTH CURRYNERDS this is so cute im going to cry #ichablogging a3 #a3 spoilers

[goldengoddess]

soooo the idea is a fic set during king of scars where the reader is nikolai's childhood best first and we stumble into his room one evening and we actually see him change into the demon and just absjajnsns

i am yours - nikolai lantsov

* KING OF SCARS & RULE OF WOLVES SPOILERS *

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader

a/n: okay this is absolutely garbage rae i am so sorry pls forgive me,,, i KNOW this is not how nikolai’s demon works and he wouldn’t just like turn back but for the sake of this fic pls pretend <33333

for the lovley @wtfrae !!! i love u pls go read her work everyone <3

warnings: spoilers! some angst n like threat of violence but y’all know me, everything is good and happy by the end

nikolai had always been the one person you could turn to. since the two of you were kids, it had always been an unbreakable bond. something no one else seemed to understand. how to kids, tossed aside by their family, tested in every way possible, were able to find each other and bring out the best in one another. nikolai made you better, made you good.

life in ravka was never easy, it was a constant struggle. especially in the years leading up to nikolai’s reign. the two of you almost hadn’t made it out alive then, and while nikolai had been out fighting with alina in the fold, you had stayed at the spinning wheel helping the injured.

but when things finally settled down, alina and mal safe and away, nikolai had told you so many stories. the two of you had spent months apart. so out of nostalgia, every night you’d sneak into nikolai’s room and listen to your best friend tell you stories about everything. all the battles he’d fought along as sturmhond, what the battle against the darkling had looked like.

and even when nikolai ran out of stories, and you ran out of questions, you kept sneaking into his room to talk to him. he was the king of ravka, during the day he never even stopped to take a breath. but his nights were reserved for you. just so he could hear the sound of your voice before he was bound to his bed by chains.

nikolai loved you dearly, you were the only constant he had ever known. but he couldn’t bring himself to share what had happened to him during the battle with the darkling, what he’d become. instead, he told you the stories he told everyone else, how he was captured and tortured. it hurt him, to lie to you. but he couldn’t have you seeing him the way he saw himself, a monster. so even though lying to you pained him every night, he would do it to hear your excited questions and giggles as you snuck out of his room.

he always made sure you were gone before zoya came in. he wouldn’t be able to explain the drugging potion. or even worse, his horrible transformation into the demon that lived inside of him.

but secrets almost never stay secrets.

“saints nikolai,” you gasped, rushing off his bed to grab grab your coat, “it’s past midnight. i can’t be in here!”

nikolai sat up and looked out his window, you watched the color drain from his face. he cleared his throat and walked over to you, “you’re right you should probably go.”

you nodded and shuffled away from him, but before opening the door you paused. you turned back to the blonde haired boy, “nikolai?”

“yes sweetheart?” he answered, facing you.

“i could,” you hesitated, “i could sleep over. one night, i’m not saying tonight. just some night. i’ll sleep on the floor but, i spend all of my night here anyways. just like when we were kids.”

as nikolai slowly walked closer to you, you waited for his teasing remark and eventual acceptance. the two of you w had a sleepover since before he left ravka. of course it wouldn’t be the same, as he was now king, but he was your nikolai.

instead, he gently tucked a piece of your hair and kissed your forehead. “i don’t think that’s such a good idea sweetheart.”

your heart shattered at his words and his at the fact that he had to say them. there was nothing he wanted more. nothing that would bring him more peace than holding you in his arms until the sunrise. not just for a couple of hours right before bed, not having to pretend that everything he felt for you was strictly platonic.

“oh” you said defeatedly. “that, yeah that’s okay. i’ll see you tomorrow nikolai.” and with that you rushed out of the room.

later, as zoya gave nikolai genya and david’s potion to knock him out, all he could think about was the horrible look on your face.

at some point in the night you’d made the decision to go talk to nikolai. the two of you couldn’t go on like this, attempting to be way you have been before the darkling and alina while tip toeing around these new feelings you had for eachother.

but as you made your way to nikolai’s doors, hand on the doorknob, you heard a soft growl coming from inside. you covered your mouth with your hand to prevent a gasp from escaping your lips. you slowly turned the handle and stepped into the room.

on nikolai’s kingly bed was a dark giant looking demon. it’s wings were the color of the night sky seen in the window of the bed room. it took your breath away.

you pressed your back against the wall, trying to move back towards the door without making any noise. but the demon heard you and snapped it’s head in your direction.

every part of your body was screaming to run, to scream even. but something stopped you. the eyes. they stopped you. they were dark and pitch black but there was something familiar about them. not the color but the way they watched you. like they were trying to remember every single part of you just in case.

nikolai was the only person who you knew looked at you that way.

“nikolai?” you whispered to the monster.

the creature craned its neck to the side, similar to the confused head tilts that nikolai used to give you during lessons. you took a hesitant step forward, holding your hands up to show that you weren’t going to cause harm.

“nikolai” you tried again, with more conviction in your voice.

the creature let out a small growl as a response and you flinched away. at your movement it out a whine and moved away from you.

you shuffled closer, “hey no no i’m okay. nikolai?”

slowly, as you repeated your best friends name over and over, the creature became less beast and more man. slowly morphing into a messy set of blonde curls and body you’d hugged more times than you can recall. your nikolai.

he curled up in a ball and leaned his back against the end of his bed.

“nikolai” you attempted softly, falling to your knees in front of him.

he scrambled away to a corner of the room, “please. please leave. i’m begging.” his voice was raspy from misuse, thought the two of you had spoken only hours before.

“nikolai i’m not leaving, please explain to me. what was that?” you pleaded with him.

“that was nothing, now go. please please” he sobbed into his hands.

you crossed your arms over your chest in a stubborn gesture that he couldn’t even see, “you’re lying to me again! i’m not leaving until you explain what that was. why can’t you tell me the truth for once?”

“that was me!” he yelled as he lifted his head and met your eyes for the first time.

you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar hazel color of his eyes. you crossed your legs together, “that was you?”

“yes that was me. that is what the darkling did to me. now please,” he let out an exhausted sob “please leave sweetheart.”

you felt tears swelling in your own eyes at his voice. how broken he sounded. your nikolai never sounded so defeated. and if he ever felt that way, he had never shown you. you crawled over to him slowly and placed your hands on the sides of his face, rubbing away the tears.

“what are you doing” he whimpered and dropped his head into your hands, “i could hurt you. sweetheart, you have to go.”

“my nikolai” you whispered, pushing his damp hair away from his forehead.

he closed his eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger, exhaustion, sadness, or a mix of all of it. “i cannot be yours. i’ve lied to you, i’m a demon, a monster. you can’t possibly want me to be yours.” he spit each word about himself as if it were venom, like the words ripped away a little bit of his humanity, or his confidence.

you shook your head and softly placed your forehead again his, still holding the sides of his face. “no. you’re my nikolai. you always will be.”

you placed two soft kisses on his cheeks, one on each side. “my” kiss, “nikolai,” another kiss.

“oh sweetheart, i am yours” he sighed and opened up his knees so you could fall into his embrace. “i am so sorry.”

“you should be” you mumbled into his chest. “what if you had died nikolai? and i wouldn’t have known what was happening to you until it was too late. i could have helped.”

he kissed the top of your head, still hesitantly. “im a fool, you can spend the rest of my life reminding me. i didn’t want to ruin this, us. it’s the last precious thing i have in my life.”

“we are still precious” you whispered and clung to his shirt like your life depended on it. “the same way you are still the nikolai i have always known, since childhood. you are still good. we will fix this.”

“and if we can’t?” he asked so softly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“then i’ll have to get just as familiar with the demon as i am with you” you joked.

and the rumble of nikolai’s laughing chest told you that everything would be perfectly fine. demon and all, he was still your nikolai.

taglist;

@deardiarystuff @bookishcrows @kazsimp @vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe

if your name is in bold, it means i couldn’t tag you <3

#nikolai lanstov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai duology #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone imagine #leigh bardugo #rae <3

[clairenatural]

Suptober 2020, Day 10: Sweet rides. Destiel (and background Saileen), honestly just 2k of state fair fluff

The Kansas State Fair rolls through a few months after their final boss battle with God himself. In the spirit of trying to heal and taking some time to just breathe, they all pile into the impala and drive the three hours to Hutchinson. All five of them, after Sam bounds into the kitchen one morning to excitedly announce that Eileen wants to come, and Dean can’t remember the last time his car (or his heart) was fuller.

Sam spends the first hour of the trip awkwardly turned around in the passenger seat, contorting his long torso to be able to sign with Eileen, until eventually Dean pulls over and makes him switch with Castiel (who probably should have been in the front in the first place). He watches his brother and his girlfriend start trying to teach Jack the ASL alphabet but keeps his own hands resolutely constrained to the steering wheel—if he gave them free reign he knows they’ll do something drastic, like reach out for the angel riding shotgun.

Still, the ride is nice. It’s the early Kansas fall, when the air is turning crisp but the sun is still warm, and the giddy relief of seeing Castiel smile without some cosmic threat looming over them still hasn’t worn off. By the time they pull into the fairgrounds it’s afternoon, and Dean is laughing along with the rest of them. They step into the hustle and bustle of the fair, and Jack’s face lights up in a way it hasn’t since before the weight of killing God was shoved onto his shoulders. Sam and Eileen split off pretty immediately, and they’re so happy Dean can’t even pretend to be exasperated. He’ll make fun of Sam later—right now he just watches them run away, giggling like teenagers, with a fond expression that could border on pining if Dean Winchester was the type to pine.

Then it’s just him, and Cas, and this half-angel kid who’s simultaneously all-powerful and a toddler. Jack, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, quintessential in the defeat of God, who still approaches cotton candy with a childlike wonder fitting for his three years of life. They discover that Jack likes cotton candy but loves rollercoasters. Dean, who discovered he hates rollercoasters a few decades ago, sits this one out—content to watch Jack drag Cas from ride to ride while he sits on a bench and eats corn dogs. When they finally stop for a breather it’s the tail end of the afternoon and Dean greets them with lemonade and funnel cake, and they watch the fair go by while eating the kind of fried food you can only find at state fairs. Cas is dismayed at the deep-fried Oreos. Dean eats three. It makes him feel sick—turns out even his stomach has limits—but it makes both Cas and Jack laugh, which makes it worth it.

Overall, it’s the perfect day, which might be why Dean’s immediately suspicious when Sam and Eileen show up some time later with matching mischievous smiles. They sit down at their picnic table and Sam leans in to slide something into Dean’s pocket, adding a whispered “thank me later” into his ear, before clearing his throat and turning his attention to Jack. “Hey, uh, Jack,” he starts, and Dean’s suspicions grow. “Eileen and I spent most of today playing games—you wanna show us the rides? Maybe,” he nods towards Dean in the least subtle way possible, “give these two a break?”

Jack looks between them for a moment before something seems to dawn on him and he smiles, which Dean does not like at all. “Yes,” he replies, simply, and starts to stand. “The best one is that way.” He points to the exact opposite end of the fair. Dean groans internally. Damn kids.

Cas watches them go with a look of contentment Dean isn’t sure he’s seen on the angel before, and he peeks at what Sam had slid into his pocket—two tickets for the massive Ferris wheel. Dean sighs and looks at Cas, then to the wheel. The afternoon is well on its way into evening now, and the low sun has the metal structure backlit and glowing. He looks back at Cas, who’s watching his odd reaction, confused. “Dean?” he questions.

Dean thinks about how much shit he’ll get from Sam (and Eileen) if he doesn’t go for it. He thinks about having to go another day, or even another hour, without holding Castiel’s hand. He thinks about how there’s nothing really stopping him—not anymore, not with the world safe and Cas not going anywhere anytime soon.

He makes a decision.

I’m in love with you. Please ride the Ferris wheel with me as the sun sets, he thinks.

“There are, uh. Some sweet rides here, huh?” he says instead. Castiel frowns at him, brow furrowed, and Dean wants to be enveloped by the earth like some cliché in a tween movie.

“You’ve spent most of the day avoiding them at all costs,” he points out and, yeah, that was not Dean’s best line. “I had to ride the, uh. The ‘Space Roller,’” he points at a giant spinning structure, “Twice.” Cas grimaces at the memory, and Dean frowns in sympathy. It was the only time he’s ever seen the angel nauseous.

“Jack had a good time, though,” Dean replies, because bringing up Jack is always a foolproof way to make Castiel smile again. Cas smiles in the way he always does when he thinks about his son, and it’s adorable but also off track, so—

“Ride the wheel with me,” Dean blurts out, before Cas can respond to his comment about Jack and before he can lose his nerve. Cas looks startled, either by the abrupt subject change or the two tickets that Dean slapped onto the table with his statement. “Sam—I mean, Sam and Eileen didn’t—” Castiel’s expression has changed to bemused confusion, so Dean stops talking and starts again. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Sam had extra tickets. I just thought it would be nice, you know. If you wanted.”

The smile he gets in return simultaneously puts him at ease and sets his heart racing. “I’d like that,” Cas says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and he’s already standing and gathering their trash by the time Dean’s brain catches up.

There’s a couple in front of them in line for the Ferris wheel. They’re holding hands. Dean forces his into fists in his pockets. Not yet, he tells himself. Soon.

Unfortunately, the cabin they eventually climb into starts rocking dangerously the moment it’s lifted off the ground, and Dean immediately decides this was a Bad Idea. They get halfway up the wheel before they lurch to a stop and dean makes a noise that is definitely not a whimper as he waits for the swaying to stop.

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, deeply concerned in the way he always is about Dean. Dean shrugs, not letting go of the lap bar.

“Yeah, you know. I just, uh. Got this thing about heights. It’s fine. I’m fine.” He sees Castiel’s face shift out of the corner of his eye and realizes he’s smiling. Dean is having a near-death experience and the angel next to him is smiling.

“Dean Winchester, a man who fought God, is afraid of heights?”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles. “This thing is not structurally sound.” He tries to crane his neck outside the basket to examine the metalwork, but the movement makes the entire thing rock. He retreats, holding onto the lap bar for dear life, and sneaks a glance at Castiel. “Man, how are you not freaked out by this?”

“I suppose I’m used to falling,” Cas replies, as easy as ever, and it slows Dean’s brain down enough to look at him again. He’s still smiling, but there’s something else there. Something sadder.

“Cas—” Dean starts, but is abruptly cut off by the wheel kicking into gear again, squeaking as it pulls them over the crest of the wheel before stopping once more.

The sun is setting over the fair, casting everything below in shades of orange and gold. There’s the faint sound of children laughing and fair music drifting up from the ground, and the expanse of Kansas is visible beyond the fair’s borders. It’s breathtaking, really. It’s the part where, if this was a rom-com, Dean would make his move.

Instead, he’s clinging to the lap bar of the Ferris wheel car, and Castiel is doing his very best not to laugh in the seat beside him. Dean groans, squeezes his eyes shut, and considers disowning Sam.

“Dean,” he hears Cas say, mirth in his voice but also unmistakable softness, and then a warm hand is covering his own on the bar in front of them. “Look at me.”

He does, forcing his eyes open, and—oh. Cas has moved closer, and his blue eyes are lit up by the last rays of daylight, and suddenly Dean’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason. “Uh. Hi,” he says, because his brain seems to have shorted out, but the corner of Cas’ eyes crinkle into a smile and it’s beautiful.

Castiel’s hand is still warm on top of his own, grounding him even as they’re far off the ground. He’s looking at Dean like he’s the most precious thing in the known universe, and Dean realizes that now, actually, is when he would make a move.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies.

And Dean kisses him.

Dean barely registers that Cas is kissing him back—Cas is kissing him back??—when he absently takes both hands off the lap bar to pull Castiel closer, which means the entire car rocks again. Dean makes an undignified noise and pulls back to re-steady himself, and his cheeks are burning but Cas is laughing so that means it’s probably okay.

“When we get back to solid ground I’m kissing you for real,” Dean promises as the wheel squeaks back into movement again. Cas hums in agreement and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and Dean can feel his smile. They hold hands on the bar of the carriage as the wheel turns them back down to earth.

Dean makes good on his promise as soon as they touch down, dragging Castiel behind a nearby tree and pulling him into a real kiss—solid, like the ground they’re standing on. Solid like the foundation they’ve been building for the past decade, of trust and love and family.

When they finally make it back to the picnic table, they look far too disheveled to blame it all on the ride. Sam looks up from the sundae he’s sharing with the other two, grins down at Dean and Cas holding hands, and winks at his brother. Dean rolls his eyes, blushing, but he squeezes Castiel’s hand and pulls him closer.

When they pile back into the Impala later, joined by the army of stuffed animals they’d managed to accumulate (Sam and Dean in an informal competition to see who could win the most for Eileen and Cas, Cas and Eileen irritated at the insinuation that they couldn’t win toys themselves and walking away with even more, Jack being innocently and gleefully good at every fair game he tries), it’s with a peace and contentment that the family hasn’t felt in years. Sam and Eileen immediately fall asleep in the backseat, curled up together, and Jack is watching the Kansas landscape pass by the window with a soft smile. He’s holding a stuffed panda.

They don’t speak much, not wanting to wake up the sleeping couple or disturb the quiet peace they’d created, but Dean and Cas hold hands across the bench seat, and every few miles the angel will pick up their hands to press a kiss to Dean’s fingers. Dean feels like he’s flying, like he’s standing on top of the Empire State building, like he’s reached the peak of Mount Everest. For once in his life, he’s not afraid of the height.  

#suptober20 #destiel #destiel fluff #my words

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (2/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

Other Chapters: 1 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

"This doesn't make any sense."

Jean had always been one of the more vocal ones in the classroom when it came to inconvenient developments. More often than not, people had just brushed off his complaints and banter as an inevitable part of his personality. That was one of the few times everyone else agreed with him.

The rest though just sat silently in the classroom while both Erwin and Shadis went out of the room, to get what was supposed to be their "kids."

Having taken classes on reproduction and health growing up, most if not all the people in the room already knew the amount of money it took to raise a child and the importance of contraception.

Oddly enough though, the number of kids was decided at random, only justified by the fact that they would never know how many dependents they'll have to care of one day.

"Every single one of you will be faced with the prospect of taking care of a dependent one day, maybe for a few years, maybe for decades," Erwin had explained. He had a natural charisma in the way he carried himself and spoke that made everyone in the room aware of their own tendency for altruism. Everyone had somebody in their life, they probably would have dug into their savings to support be it a mother, a sibling or a close friend.

They were all silently doing their own reflections of who that person would have been as Shadis passed around sacks of flour at random.

"Just be lucky you don't have to do this in real life yet. This adult experience is fucking watered down already. If we could simulate the pain of childhood or the stench of a dirty diaper, we would. " Shadis' words were a stark contrast to Erwin's.

Either way, everyone was too distracted by the number they were getting and the whole prospect of having sack babies in the first place to even react to his words.

"We initially thought of using actual eggs or flour but if you're going to be taking care of this for the whole year…” Erwin fell silent for a second. “That would be disgusting."

The sack was definitely much lighter than what Levi had expected. He squeezed it, noting the firmness of the sack. It was stuffed with cotton. They thought some of it through at least.

Erwin turned on his projector, looking undisturbed by the awkward silence in the room. "By the end of this month, these are what I expect from all of you," He started. "An overview of career plans, a meal plan, a house design based on real estate prices around the area and a breakdown of house responsibilities."

He moved his tacky pointer towards the line on meal plans. "Every two weeks you and your partner go to the supermarket, assess grocery prices and submit me a list of groceries you would buy and a meal plan based on that for the family you have with you. Remember, you are still limited by your wage and each sack represents an extra mouth to consider when you make the meal plan. I will be sending a more detailed version with the deadlines and a prescribed format through email.”

The class was silent for a time. The only notable sounds coming from that room were the scratching of pencil and paper and a few sighs. Hange was taking notes next to Levi while the latter wondered why she even bothered when Erwin was going to send the rest of the information through email after all.

Erwin spent a good few seconds taking stock of everyone in the room before letting out a subtle sigh of his own. "Don't look too overwhelmed, these assignments will be incorporated into all your other classes anyway. Just don't expect teachers from other subjects to spoon feed you though. As much as possible we want you to learn to work with it independently."

                                         Division of Labor

Regardless of what Erwin said, everyone was left overwhelmed anyway. The prospect of having to deal with that heavy of a workload and having that performance affect their chances at college had people spending their precious one hour of lunch time with their partners.

Despite his generally antisocial personality, Levi was rarely alone for lunch. Most days he spent his breaks with his classmates Petra and Oluo. Sometimes Gunther and Eld from the other section would join in. That was unless he felt particularly compelled to spend a lunch break alone. It was as if everyone silently agreed to use that short hour to discuss and strategize with their partners. Levi did not even have time to protest that trend, as his own friends filed out of their seats with their partners, not even bothering to ask if he would be joining them for lunch.

Or did they even need to ask? Hange was right next to him, already taking out her lunch and looking at him expectantly. “Let’s go?”  

“Wait, who said we were having lunch together?”

Hange gestured subtly at the already empty room, as if to ask him “what else?” Levi cursed himself for even complaining about groupmates who never pulled their weight. At that moment, an overly enthusiastic groupmate seemed more unbearable and Levi almost wished he could have gotten a lazy and uninterested groupmate instead. At least then he’d be able to decide for himself when to start working.  

They sat on one of the picnic tables in the school courtyard, Hange with a boxed lunch and Levi with his homemade sandwich. Their two sack babies were stacked up to the side of the table.

"So what do we name them?" Hange asked.

Levi grabbed one of the sacks from the pile and propped it up on his lunch bag, an attempt to use that empty slate of a sack as a guide to imagining what should be a face.  With that, Levi could pretend they were at least kind of living and maybe they did deserve names.

"Flour," Levi suggested. His attempts to see life in faceless sacks came out fruitless.

"Let's try to be a little more creative Levi."

"Why do we even have to give names to these things? They're not even alive. Like nobody is gonna press charges if I stabbed it right now anyway."

"Because they're grading us,” Hange took out a permanent marker and carefully drew a smiling face one sack. She made sure to add a few lines of what looked to be bangs. As she went for the other sack, Levi could not help but notice the goofy smile that appeared on her face.

Levi narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this?”

"We’re here. Might as well enjoy it right?" Hange shrugged." If you're not gonna name them. I will." She propped the one she had just finished drawing on, up on Levi’s lunch bag. “This is Flora.” She continued drawing on the other sack. “And this is Fauna."

The names sounded to Levi like science terms he had learned too long ago and had wanted to forget. They flew into one ear and out the other within seconds and Levi had settled for internally naming the sacks the first thing he thought of when he saw Hange's artwork: “ugly bangs” and “eyelash.”

He made sure not to tell Hange though. She seemed way too enthusiastic about her naming choices.

                                         Division of Labor      

Although Levi did have a natural talent with numbers, this potential remained untapped through most of high school. The most apparent reason for this being the fact that the person teaching them Math, at one of the most important times in their high school life was an utter prick.

That utter prick of a Math teacher during their sophomore year made a comeback as their teacher for their junior year. He did not look too happy about it either. Levi at least shared that same sentiment.  

"So I'm supposed to be teaching you guys about taxes but really, believe me, you won't really use half of this shit, just hire an accountant.” Zeke Yaeger propped his feet on the teacher’s table, not bothering to even explain the table of tax rates he had flashed as a powerpoint slide next to him. “ Or... just get an employer, they’ll calculate it for you anyway.”

“Do you mean get a job sir?” It was Marco who so politely asked the question.

“Get a job, get an employer, same banana.” Zeke answered, in between gulps of coffee.

Somehow everyone knew that getting a job would probably be not as easy as the phrase “get an employer” implied it to be. Zeke was their teacher though and he probably knew much more than they did, given the decades of work experience he had in his belt.

“Don’t we need to know how to calculate our taxes based on the table?” Armin asked. He looked to his partner Annie who seemed to be furiously taking notes.

Zeke looked once again at the board for a few minutes before slamming his cup on the table, spilling out some coffee in the process. “Just remember, if your employer promises you 70,000 dollars a year, don’t be surprised when you end up taking home 50,000 dollars coz of some bullshit about the government needing money, insurance and retirement.” He rolled his eyes. “Not like we all live that long to enjoy that  K410 nonsense anyway.” He added bitterly, adding some venom on that part about that string of numbers in particular.

“If we own a business, how do we file them?” Annie asked.

“No one needs to know how to do this. Besides, you’re all in high school. Don’t stress yourself over this. Like I said before, just get an accountant.”

“What if we can’t afford an accountant?”

“Then don’t own a fucking business.” Zeke rolled his eyes. “Fine… Look, I didn’t prepare for that question, gimme a sec.”

The class watched as he closed the powerpoint, quickly opened an incognito window and went on google.

How to file taxes as business owners?

Zeke stared at the next few pages for what seemed like minutes, before clicking on one particular page.

“So yeah, it looks like you just fill out this form and send the money to the tax office.” He shrugged. “Your generation grew up with ipads glued to your faces. I’m sure you’re way better in googling shit than I am so yeah, just google the rest of what you need. Free period until your next class, now go talk about your fake taxes or your fake house or something.”

                                          Division of Labor

Even with the free period Zeke had so generously given them, no one was able to start anything until they got home. It was eight in the evening when Levi opened his school email to find the information on their next tasks, which was sent only a few minutes ago.

September*

Week 3

Housing plan (Wednesday)

Housing Design (Wednesday)

Daily routine

Meal Plan

Week 4

Breakdown of Responsibilities

*Unless otherwise stated, please submit output by Friday of said week  

Levi did not even have time to finish scanning through the guide to their housing plan task as his computer started to slow down, unable to take the quick scrolling. He soon realized it was not the scrolling that had made the computer so dysfunctional. On the lower right of his screen, he saw the notification.

Hange Zoe

New Message

The badge next to his messaging app, quickly rose from 12 unread messages to 26 to 45. Even the screen looked unable to display the messages properly. Wanting to save his computer from anymore torture, Levi grabbed his phone from his bed side and called his partner.

“If you have a lot of things you need to tell me, call .” Levi said, not even bothering to wait for a hello from Hange.

“Oh great! So you did get the messages! For a while I was wondering if your messenger app was broken.”

Levi looked back at the screen to see that the badge next to his app was already displaying a “99+.” If his application or his laptop was not broken then, it might break when he opens the application.

“What the hell are you sending anyway?” Levi asked, delaying the inevitable of having to open the messaging app.

“Links to houses for the housing plan,” Hange answered matter-of-factly. “Unless you’d rather I just say the links out loud for you to type it in the browser yourself.”

With a part of him so nervous at the possibly of his computer hanging or even breaking, Levi had ended having to slam his finger on his mouse when he opened the messaging app. He looked away not wanting to see how his computer tried to process the 99+ messages.

He lay on his bed opening the file on his phone.

“So, since I’m working freelance, I pretty much have a work from home job so we can live anywhere. We have two kids, so what do you think of a three bedroom house?”

“A ‘house house?” Levi looked around at his own living space which his uncle rented for him. He lived in a studio apartment and the concept of living in a house, even in a simulation seemed too unrealistic. “Like a house, with two floors, and multiple bedrooms?”

“And a garden!” Hange said excitedly. “So Flora and Fauna can run around.”

It took Levi a few seconds to comprehend that Hange was discussing their flour sack babies running around an imaginary garden. Levi was sure Hange was not an idiot though and had decided to at least entertain the expensive option of a fully furnished three bedroom house with a sprawling garden.  “And, how were the prices?” Levi walked back to his computer to see that most of his messages had already loaded.

“Well, I found some for 1500 dollars a month, others for 1800 dollars a month. I earn 3600 dollars a month apparently, so I don’t think spending half of it on rent would be too much right?”

“I mean, it’s your wages right?” Levi replied. In truth, a part of him just did not want to go through all one hundred houses Hange had linked him too on the messaging application just to decide on a house.

Hange sent a picture of a split level house, with a wide front garden. “This is my favorite! It comes with a large backyard. And it only costs 1800 dollars a month!”

Only 1800 dollars a month. Levi almost choked. The words “only” and “1800 dollars a month” just seemed too absurd to his ears that someone saying it so casually had him speechless even if Hange was talking about a three bedroom house with a sprawling garden. He cleared his throat. “You’re the breadwinner.”

“Okay! Let’s design the house! I’ll move to my laptop.”

For some reason, Levi had a bad feeling about the listing Hange had shown him. He quickly brushed it away as it came, attributing it to the fact that he never really grew up with enough money to entertain the idea of spending on luxuries. He lived with less than three hundred dollars a month after all, all funded by his absent uncle.

Hange had seemed confident with her decision though.

I’ll stick to what I know best. In the end, Levi decided to leave the larger purchases to Hange. Hehad confidence only in his ability to manage a household. Maybe he would be able to contribute then.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #fanfic

[miss-choco-chips]

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both. 

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any. 

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens. 

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had. 

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense. 

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong. 

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’. 

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example. 

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk,  little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't  believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one. 

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas. 

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person. 

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor. 

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it. 

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us. 

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

[craftypeaceturtle]

Sanders Sides Fic Rec

As a heads up! It’ll be very obvious that I prefer Virgil angst and so there will be a definite bias. Just a heads up! All of these will be on AO3 because... it’s the best haha! Also, I’ve only just noticed that a lot of these aren’t necessarily shippy but hey ho! Anyway, here we go! 

*

What Students Teach- mt_reade, 4,000 words.

Hello! My name is Thomas Sanders, and I just finished my first year as a teacher.

I taught a grade one class this year, at a relatively small school. I’ve known that I wanted to be a teacher since I was young, and babysat for the first time. I just love kids so much, and I remembered how much my teachers had an influence on me growing up. I wanted to be able to do that for others. I’ve known for a long time that teaching is the right job for me.

But, what I didn’t know, is that the teaching goes both ways, and the lessons that my students have taught me this year are more valuable than any of the things that I taught them. I’m writing this now to share with anyone who reads this, just precious few of the things that my students teach me.

(I came across this recently but I just love how simple and sweet this idea is! I love how they characterised all the sides in the perspective of children, especially Remus. I feel like it would be easy to write as absolutely ridiculous but he feels still realistic while still being very much Remus!).

*

I'll Stay Awake (cause the dark's not taking prisoners tonight) - starlocked, 2,000 words, Anxceitmus

Virgil doesn't get to meet his soulmates each night. No, he has nightmares. His roommate decides to stage an intervention.

(I just love this take on the soulmate idea of meeting up in your dreams. I also like that it was no one’s true fault. It would’ve been easy to say that it was all Deceit’s and Remus’ fault for being terrifying but it’s more nuanced than that! There’s not a lot of shippy-ness but it’s still a soulmate au so there we go!)

*

(don’t) take this the wrong way- delimeful, unfinished, 7,000 words.

Local shark mer Roman finds a tiny mermaid tangled up in a net in his territory, and enlists his siren friend Patton's help to find a way to free the little guy. Unfortunately for Logan, they end up 'borrowing' a human to assist them in untangling the net. Virgil just wants to get out of this nightmare of a situation.

(Maybe I’m just a sucker for merpeople aus, but this is such a good story immediately. Instantly engaging and I’m keeping an eye on it for any new updates. I may also just be a sucker for misunderstandings which is the main conflict so far haha!)

*

Centaur AU- KieraElieson, unfinished, 10,000 words

Thomas is hired as a centaur groom very abruptly, and is just a little bit lost, but trying his best.

However, when you think of centaurs more as people with animal-like bodies, and everyone else thinks of them as animals with human-like bodies, disagreements are bound to come up.

(So far it’s pretty much setting up the context and characters but it’s done so effectively! The trauma of the characters is handled so well, hinted at and clearly effecting their behaviour, but not so obvious that you immediately know what’s happened to them. Despite being tagged as ambiguous time period, you don’t even really question when the story is set! It quickly grabs your attention and you focus on the story more than any tiny ambiguous details.)

*

No Longer Alone- Amydiddle, 3,000 words

Anxiety has been living in the basement of Thomas' mind space for almost two years now. A place were all the host's darkness resides. The small side has learned how to take care of himself and how to avoid the sides whenever he goes upstairs.

Tonight's midnight food run goes a bit differently.

(I am so weak for stories about how all the sides formed and first interacted! I think I just fell in love with this concept! Simple but such an interesting fun read!)

*

The Worst Thing in the World- Arwriter, 6,000 words

Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little differently. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense.

Right?

(The first part in a slowly expanding series, the entire series is sooo good so if you like this one then definitely continue reading! It’s such a well written look into their lives, how they handle conflicts and grief. I love Virgil angst where the others get a look into his previous life, no matter how small and sad that look is.)

*

tales of reverie- cattonsanders, 40,000 words, offscreen Logince. 

Roman loves to read bedtime stories to his kids (even if Virgil says he’s grown out of them), but soon Patton and Virgil discover that the story book their dad has been reading to them is actually a portal to the very kingdom they’ve been told about- not only that, but their dad is the prince!

What else will they find as they venture deeper into this new world they’ve found themselves in, and what other, much darker secrets are being kept from them?

(SUCH A CREATIVE IDEA! I love how the plot always kept me guessing but never in a way that felt cheap or misplaced. Characters were introduced and you were left piecing it all together to figure out if they were trustworthy, which is what the main characters are also doing! Will always recommend)

*

Caught Red Handed- Wholesomereader, 20,000 words

Virgil doesn't like his dad, runs away, and 'accidentally' steals from a local bakery.

Then, the owner of said bakery hires him.

He's in so much shit.

(I love how this is paced and written out. There’s a lot of themes and relationships being built but it still feels easy to keep track of everything and nothing feels swept to the side or neglected.)

*

Slither Into Your Heart- Jungle321jungle, 6,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit

Deceit didn’t bother to knock as he slammed the door open and glared down to where Remus sat on his bed polishing his morning star. 

“What did you do?” Deceit hissed. 

Remus gave him a large smile as he looked him up or down, “Do you have the snakes just up there or are they down below too?”

If asked by Patton later, Deceit most definitely did not try to strangle the other side in that moment. Not all.

~~~~

Also known as:

Deceit is turned into a Gorgon.  And the new annoying little snakes on his head seem to have an annoying obsession with Virgil.

(Amazing idea, amazing writing, sweet scenes and just! It’s just a nice read! I love how they write Deceit to be this cool tough persona but also named all his new snakes!)

*

Wings of Anxiety- ShadeCrawler, 7,000 words

Virgil normally kept his wings pressed tight against his back. He never let them out to stretch when he was outside his room. Yes, they got sore after a little while and yes, it rustled his feathers to the point that it took forever to groom them.

But, he couldn’t take them out. He just couldn’t. Dark Sides didn’t have wings. Only Light Sides did.

(Love me some Virgil angst, add in some wings and I’m in! I also love this idea that Virgil was supposed to be a light side all along but circumstances weren’t as fair. Strong self hatred to make a compelling story! Just yes!)

*

This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ll take it- Simpleton_Cat, 17,000 words, unfinished.

Thomas didn't think he would ever get pets, much less a cat. But here he was, having four cats, Logan, Patton, Roman, and Remus. And then Remus (God, please exorcise the demon that is most definitely in his cat body) brings home two more and then suddenly he's back at the Vet.

Or in other words: Everyone is a cat and Thomas is their owner.

(Again, such a cool idea! I love how this new context for the characters allow for so many new ideas and characterisations. I love Deceit and Virgil’s relationship and how that has shaped, especially how Deceit’s link to lying is written!)

*

Changing Tides- LadyoftheWoods, 6,000 words.

Virgil ends up overboard of his father's boat during a storm, and expects to drown in the sea. Instead he is rescued by merpeople, in more ways than one.

(Virgil angst plus merpeople- well hello! I love the slowly forming family relationship between the characters. I also love how Virgil reacts to finding out merpeople exist, feels genuine but not too drawn out.)

*

A Fanciful Dream- AceDetective, 20,000 words, Prinxiety 

Virgil could say with certainty that he was no prince. Found by King Thomas’ chef, lost and with no memory of who he was, Virgil spent his childhood running errands in the halls of the castle. When a young King visits and claims Virgil is his brother, Virgil must determine if this is truth or a young King’s hopeful dream.

(While this is very fast paced, everything feels justified and well explained. The confusion between both Virgil and his brother feels so genuine and well written. The quiet slow reaching out makes sense for the both of them!)

*

Ten Things- LostyK, 30,000 words, unfinished, Anxceit, Royality

When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil.

And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price?

(This is one where I kept a close eye to see if it updates, while a silly idea, it’s so well  written! I love how Deceit is written as slowly caring and falling in love while still maintaining his persona, just like Virgil! I also love how Virgil is characterised as his usual anxious self but a bit more persona based like before accepting anxiety) 

*

You Can Picani Family You Want- DramaticGarbage, 20,000 words, Analogical, Royality.

Emile finds himself in charge of two small boys who need somewhere to go. It’s going to be a learning curve for everyone.

(If you love found family stuff then this is it! It’s a series of oneshots about different parts in their lives but I love the themes and how the characters progress through each moment. It’s so sweet and rewarding. Plus it has big boi Roman which is always a plus!)

*

Fatherly Sides- Bright_Sea, 60,000 words, Moceit

There are good and bad days when it comes to being a father. Deceit and Patton learn all about it while raising their four boys.

(Similar to the one above, lots of found family sweet moments all connected by the larger plots and themes. The angst of the larger plot is given the seriousness and gravity that it deserves. I love how trauma is talked about and dealt with in a healthy manner. Everything feels so genuine and realistic!)

*

Colors- Badgermole, 49,000 words (21 works), Logicality.

A collection of stories where Logan is a young Virgil's dad. Virgil happens to be autistic and has a fascination with colors. Unless otherwise stated: Virgil is aged around early elementary school age with Roman 2 years older.

(Again, with the sweet family moments with minimal angst! I don’t have autism so I can't say whether it’s realistic or not but it’s very well written and covers a lot of autistic themes and everyday life. Actually, read pretty much everything by badgermole as their writing is so good and they tackle a lot of disabled issues!)

*

Powerless- patentpending, 187,000 words, Logicality, Prinxiety.

“People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”

(Almost)  Everyone in the world has powers.  As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?

Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan.  When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps.  With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society.  The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

(So well written! While fast paced, everything feels so well balanced. Main characters and their plots balanced with new OCs that don’t feel too much and justified in being there. The plot kept me guessing while still feeling justified and interesting.)

*

Grounded- InstantFire, 18,000 words

No matter your age, punishments are no fun. Despite being no fun, would you be willing to do anything to avoid said punishment?

(I don't know what it is about this piece but it's just sooo good! I’ve reread it so many times, it just won’t leave my mind! I love how it’s carefully written where we don’t quite exactly know what the misunderstanding is until it’s stated out loud for all the characters. Maybe I just have a weakness for Virgil angst and misunderstandings but so worth a read!)

*

Snow Day- RandomSlasher, 8,000 words

Every year, the sides go to Roman’s realm and spend a few days enjoying the snow. Well…most of the sides. Set pre-Accepting Anxiety.

(SOOOO GOOD! The found family is so well written. Actually, while this is the only mention of Random Slasher because I don’t want this to be too long, read everything and anything by Random Slasher. So well written with some amazing ideas.)

*

Looking for the Light- OreoButter, 30,000 words

Remus, Deceit and Virgil Dark are Brothers. They had an awful home and now are in the foster system. After being passed from family to family they finally end up with Thomas. Remus is gross, Deceit is a compulsive lier and Virgil has crippling anxiety. Virgil will do anything to protect his brothers, at any cost. The family of three will have to face trial and the truth as they search for the light.

(I absolutely love found family if you couldn’t guess already! But I love how they wrote the sibling relationship between the dark sides, feels so genuine and justified. There is shipping but it feels more like a side plot so!)

*

Sightless- riverblujay, 9,000 words

Virgil is blind. It's not a big deal though, right? But he hides it, because if the other sides knew they would push him away again. And besides, he's pretty good at faking being sighted...

And the other sides are also more observant than he realizes.

(Again, this is another fic that I keep returning to! Also, I’m not blind or have any partial sight so I can't so whether this is realistic but the conflict and comfort feels so genuine and justified.)

*

The Black Hole Group Chat- Greenninjagal, 26,000 words, LAMP.

Cat_feelings: [I just have a lot of feelings for you Logan]

Anxi_Tea: [platonic?]

Cat_feelings: [does it matter?]

Anxi_Tea: [you’ve known him for twenty five minutes.]

*** aka a text fic where Logan texts the wrong number and everything goes downhill from there.

(I know text fics can be a little hit or miss but the chemistry feels so real and fun. The characters are still very much themselves, a lot of text fics can feel out of character. I also adore the fact that Virgil is mute so the fic has a reason for why the group chat is used despite them all meeting in person. So good, will always recommend!)

*

April Fool’s- feduphufflepuff, 5,000 words

This is Virgil's first April Fool's Day with the FamILY, and he has no idea what to expect.

(Love me some Virgil angst and misunderstandings so here ya go! The found family vibes and the comfort and just ah! So good, just go read!)

*

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #not my writing #fic rec

[minnochu]

Don’t Make Me Say It.

Officer!Yoongi x Reader Spin Off 

(A/n) I have finally finished my Officer!Yoongi spin off that I promised because I fell in love with his role in Interference and just want to give him some love. Hi. I spent a long time thinking up this one, and it’s kind of a mess and weird to be honest, probably rushed ‘cause I wasn’t about to pour my guts out for a whole chapter fic (sorry), but I do hope you enjoy it! 

 This mildly references Interference, but it can be read as a standalone if you don’t want to read it lol. Link to Interference if you dare!!

*Warnings: Death, mention of suicide and postpartum depression, mention of organ trafficking, mention of drugs, non consensual touching and kidnapping, explicit language, reader’s boss smacks her, a customer also smacks reader’s ass too.

Word Count: 17.6k

.

“Don’t you think you need to settle down with a woman of your own, hyung?” 

It’s a question Taehyung and now Jimin asks him. He always blows it off as something he doesn’t necessarily need when he’s married to his job and sleep. As he finds himself doting on Jimin’s new found relationship with a past and now solved case, the latter thought maybe it was time to keep the elder from constantly nagging them like a grandmother. Not like his girlfriend had any complaints to his and Hoseok’s unannounced visits.

“Like I said!” He drawls groggily, his voice heavy with sleep after he was promptly woken up, “Something like that isn’t for me.” 

“That’s what I said too hyung,” Jimin sighed exasperatedly while pinching the bridge of his nose, “But you were the one who pushed us together, and plus… you could use a little happiness in your life.”

The blonde scoffs at this, kicking his shoes up onto his desk nonchalantly, promptly ignoring Seokjin’s protests at the action. Closing his eyes, he crosses his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, “I’m already happy enough seeing all your stupid faces everyday and sleeping when I’m not burning my eyes at the sight of homicide cases.”

“Wow I’m flattered,” Seokjin grits as he shoves the younger’s feet off the desk, “Sheesh, maybe a girl will teach you some manners.”

“I treat Jiminie’s girl just fine, don’t I?”

“Still, we don’t want our precious Min Yoongi dying a bachelor who only knows how to sleep and solve cases,” Hoseok teases as he slings an arm around his partner, “How ‘bout I set you up on blind dates like we did with Jiminie?”

The latter shivers at the thought of his past blind dates that ended up with his meeting with Jungmi. It was a relief to finally be rid of her and her conniving father and Jungkook too. The rest of the men seem to share the same thoughts as the second youngest.

“Considering your taste in women?” Yoongi clicks his tongue as he gives his partner a judging glare, only to tilt his head to the side when Hoseok launches a half hearted punch at his face with a pout.

“That hurts hyung!” 

After much pestering however, Yoongi ended up agreeing to a month of blind dates if the guys would finally stop bugging him about a girlfriend that he honestly didn’t have any need for. He didn’t even know why it was so important for him to have one. 

It’s a drag, are his only thoughts as he meets up at cliche date spots like the park, a cafe, or a restaurant. And the dates themselves? He wouldn’t call them back. He didn’t even bother trying to learn their names. Perhaps this was payback for setting up Jimin on those blind dates, ultimately resulting in him meeting Jungmi.

“Ah, Yoongi-ssi, do you mind walking me home? It’s quite dark…” one bold woman asks after the eleventh blind date so far. He wondered how many women his coworkers knew, but he decided he wasn’t going to see her ever again anyways so he might as well be civil for once. 

The woman tries to start small talk but he promptly ignores her when he hears noises coming from the alleyway that they happen to pass by. It’s almost pitch black, but he can make out tall figures surrounding a fallen and petite form on the ground. He almost tries to ignore it, but the officer side of him turns sharply into the alley without any explanation to his very confused date whose legs are shaking wildly in fear when he’s engulfed in the darkness the further he ventures onward.

“Call the police!” Is all he answers back with.

And from there on, he spots you among the crowd of men standing above your fallen body. He scrutinizes your messy hair and odd fashion that reveals your midriff, chest, and shoulders where your scarlet flannel is only held together by one button with the sleeves slid below your shoulders. The fashion of kids these days, he thought flippantly.

“Hey, it doesn’t seem very fair to gang up on a little girl,” he grunts as the thugs turn and glare at him venomously. Sizing them up silently, he wondered if he should take the girl and make a run for it or get his hands dirty.

“Who the hell is this asshole?” One scoffs, but the others are way ahead and already lunging at the detective. 

Yoongi effortlessly dodges and deflects the attacks, watching in the corner of his eye if you were in danger. But he’s surprised to find you holding your own ground against two of them. He momentarily forgets the men in front of him when he narrowly dodges the thrust of a knife. Narrowing his eyes, he redirects another thrust before twisting the man’s arm behind his back. Taking the knife, he pushes the thug harshly into the other guys. 

By the time the cops have arrived, Yoongi has incapacitated them to keep them from trying to get away when he didn’t have any cuffs on him. 

“I didn’t need your help,” you pout, looking up at him with a glare. Crossing your arms over your chest, he has to keep himself from pointing out your very visible and very black sports bra. 

“I couldn’t leave a child to fend for herself,” he shrugged, looking you up and down with a judging look.

Puffing out your cheeks, your eyes narrow at him, “I’m not a child!”

“Sure you aren’t,” he shrugged, catching your punch in his hand and pulling you forward and to the side to make you stumble over your feet. He quirked an amused upturn of his lips at your obvious annoyance, “Get home safely, kid.”

“I’m 20 dammit!” You pout then and even now as you storm into your apartment with your eyebrows furrowed, bruised fists clenching around plastic bags of ingredients for the next few meals or so. 

The place is rather cheap, the paint chipping off here and there with dark water stains discoloring the ceiling. The carpet is stained and flattened with age along with the drab furniture that completes the shabby appearance of the home.

“Unnie?” the familiar voice of your little sister, Hyemi, calls from the hallway. Her head peers around the corner before her whole body jumps out and she’s bounding towards you for a hug. “Welcome home!” she greets happily, going on about her good day at school and how much she missed you. 

“Yeah?” You smile softly, your sour mood simmering at the sight of your cute little sister who had just begun her first year of middle school, “Tell me all about it when I finish up dinner okay?”

“Dad’s not home again for dinner?” she asks as you pull your messy hair into a ponytail and move your conversation to the kitchen.

Shaking your head, you grimace as you begin preparing the items for dinner, “I don’t think so… I’m sorry..”

Sorry. You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for. For the absence of your father? For the living conditions you both had to endure because of him? It’s not that he was a terrible father… You could only blame it on the sudden bankruptcy his business fell into, which put your family in great debt. 

Your mother? She left. Father? He promised you both he would work to create a better living for you. Which meant going the whole day without seeing his once happy face around the house. And now? The little times you caught him sluggishly returning home in the middle of the night, his face was tired. It didn’t look as youthful as it did when you were still in high school. 

Must be why you changed. You mulled over how perfect your grades were in high school until debt and your parents’ divorce threw you in the deep end and persuaded you into delinquency. Instead of going to college like your past self wanted to, you went straight to working any kind of job that would hire you. Currently, you worked at a restaurant during the day, and a bar as a waitress during the night. 

The money always went to groceries, your father, and a little something for Hyemi you always saved on the side.

Despite all that’s happened, you still love your father dearly. Right now, all you wanted was for Hyemi to be safe and well fed. If something happened to her, you would surely go on a rampage.

After your sister has finally gone to bed, you’re left alone to your thoughts as you clean up the dishes and refrigerate the leftovers. You think about hours prior when that man interferes with your run-in with thugs outside the bar you worked at. Icy blonde hair, pale skin, and brooding dark eyes. Shivering, you placed a hand over your chest to ponder over the thumping in your chest.

Everything diminishes once you hear the door open and close, the rusty hinges whining as your father grunts, followed by a prompt thud of his weight hitting the couch.

“Welcome back,” you greet from the kitchen doorway, smiling as he casts you a weary smile back. 

“Sorry I’m late… again,” he chuckles forlornly, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head against the cushions. “I’m really trying my best… we’re so close to being free, but it’s like there’s not a lot of time left.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean your head against the wall as you observe the fatigue in his body… his eyes. 

“I know… we know.”

“Send my regards to Hyemi, it’s been really busy at the company, I’m sure she must really despise me for leaving you two by yourselves all the time.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. There’s no emotion, and you know that he’s so worn down from all the stress of paying back the people who’ve helped his company stay alive after its sudden fall.

“Or… you know… you could say hi before you leave again… or even leave a note,” you suggest nonchalantly as you move to take a seat beside him, “I’m sure she would rather hear it from you than through me... She only misses you, you know.”

He stays silent at that, and you know that in the end you’ll have to tell Hyemi once again that he loves her and whatnot. It just wasn’t special that way. Not at that young age. 

“I love you both, with all of my heart and soul,” he blurts out, turning to look at you with a crestfallen expression. Why? Why did he look like that?

You open your mouth to ask him why the confession all of a sudden when he pulls out two tickets from his coat pocket and practically shoves them in your face.

“One of my employees gave these to me,” he explains as you eye them quizzically, “A coupon to a really nice restaurant in town… You and Hyemi should go out and have some fun for the day, eat out and maybe watch a movie!”

“Sure… thanks.”

If only you had the confidence to tell him how much you wanted him to join you both. A family night out. Something you all haven’t been able to do since the company crumbled and your mother left. 

.

After that chance encounter, Yoongi couldn’t focus. He wonders if that girl is alright. He wonders if that’s a normal thing for you. Which makes him all the more worried that thugs are targeting you. 

“So… how are you liking the blind dates?” Hoseok asks as the former drives to the site they were supposed to search through, Jimin and Taehyung to arrive later on after their meeting. 

“Disgusting,” Yoongi drones blandly as they arrive at a worn down apartment complex. The place is shady, and a sore thumb in a place like Seoul. “Couldn’t you guys find interesting women?”

“Don’t be like that! Please tell me you at least texted back one of them!” Hoseok grins with a nudge to his partner’s side, but the male isn’t amused by him and shakes his head as he heads up the stairs to the second floor. He observes the dirty stucco and the peeling paint on the hand rails, frowning at the kind of place Namjoon sent them to.

“If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?” He asked as they arrive at the apartment, caution tape barricading the door along with two officers that nod their head in greeting.

Hoseok shrugged, obviously knowing that he wouldn’t, “Only if you’re telling the truth.”

The elder can only sigh as they enter to find other police officers already inside and taking notes. One of them perks up at the two’s entrance and hurry over. Over the former’s shoulder, Yoongi can make out a complete disaster of the room. The apartment was already worn down as it was, but everything was in a disarray from the couch being flipped over to the television smashed to pieces on the cruddy brown carpet to the blood staining the said flooring.

The liquid was not yet crusty brown upon further inspection after the officer filled in him and Hoseok about the neighbors reportedly hearing the firing of a gunshot. 

Hoseok searched the rooms, which must’ve been just as trashed, while Yoongi stayed in the living room to inspect the male victim. He had to be in his forties, no older than fifty, dressed in work clothes that were drenched in the pool of blood coming from the obvious gunshot to his head. Unable to touch the corpse just yet, he suspected the blow from a close distance, wondering if they did so in order to extract the bullet to keep from any evidence being left. 

Notably, dried tracks ran down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes. Crying? Was he threatened? He wondered why he found the last expression of this man turning out to seem more and more melancholy and simply tired.

Were they looking for something, he wondered? Burglars? Why did they go so far as to delivering a clean shot to the cranium? 

The messy hair reminded him of you. It just so happened to be the same hair color, and he wondered why he was suddenly thinking of you. An insignificant little girl he just so happened to help out despite your stubborn claims that you were just fine on your own.

“Miss, we cannot let you in!”

“This is my home! You can’t possibly be telling me I can’t go in!” A voice raises with ferocity, reminding Yoongi of a certain someone. 

“St-still… w-wait!”

He turns right at that moment to see you with fire in your eyes as you evade the grasps of the officers to head straight towards the sofa where you ignore Yoongi to set your eyes right then and there on the corpse.

The plastic bag of leftovers and a meal you and Hyemi picked out to bring home for your father is left abandoned on the ground when you set your eyes on your fallen father.

“D-dad?”

Well fuck. Of course it had to be your dad, making it all the more complicated for Yoongi. What a drag, he thought as he stood from his crouching position to halt your approach.

“What do you think you’re doing,” you grit, fists clenching as you stare helplessly at your father, “Get out of my way.”

“I can’t let you, you’ll only contaminate the evidence, and that includes your father’s body over here,” he explains calmly, biting his lip when he notices the traces of tears that gloss over your eyes at the severity of the situation. He sends a look to the officers to let him handle it, their shoulders relaxing after you pretty much shoved the guards out front to the side. 

Tears blur your vision as you ball your fists and recklessly launch a punch at his face in fury, but he catches it easily just like the night you both met. Your eyes travel between Yoongi’s apathetic eyes to the tear-dried face of your parent. Why were his eyes so cold? Why did he look as though he were belittling you for acting the way you did? 

Your knees shake and buckle, your weight folding underneath you as you crumple to the ground, wrist still held high from his hold. You refused to cry in front of him and all these officers. How could you face Hyemi? How could you have left your father alone at home? 

“I love you both with all my heart and soul.”

It clicked now. You figured he knew his time was up at that time. He intentionally drove you and your sister away for the day. But who would be behind this? Who wanted him dead?

You felt dizzy thinking more about it, stomach churning even more the longer you stared at his lifeless body. 

“H-hey!” Yoongi blinked in surprise when you fell face forward, his hands catching you by the shoulders. 

“You know her, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks as the blonde hooks his arms under your legs and back. 

Fixing your head against his shoulder, he gives a brief shrug, “More or less.” Bowing his head at the officers, he promised to return to aid in investigation later on once he deals with you. Outside the apartment is your little sister, who gasps at her older sister’s unconsciousness. 

“I-Is she okay?” She asks worriedly, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’s happening to our apartment? Is my dad in there?”

Hoseok seemed to catch on as he bows his head towards her, “Let’s move to our car, we can explain when we get your sister settled down.”

Yoongi allows his partner to be the one to deliver the news as you slowly regain consciousness laying down in the back seat of their car. He watches as you slowly sit up and glare at him leaning against the trunk of the vehicle. 

“Morning kid,” he says, causing you to frown even more at his nickname for you. 

“I told you I’m 20. I have a name too you know! It’s (Y/n)!”

He snorts at that, “20 with the behavior of a child.”

You turn away with a pout, letting him win this bout. The older man takes this chance to fully look you up and down, noticing the nice cropped blouse you were wearing along with high waisted jeans in contrast to your scandalous casual attire the other night. You both couldn’t have known, he thinks as Hoseok tries to comfort the younger sister. 

“So what now,” you grunt, leaning your head against the seats, “My apartment’s overrun by officers, there’s no way we’re getting in and having a good night’s rest just like that.” It didn’t appear like it hit you yet, but he can only assume that you were putting a facade, in contrast to the sniffles coming from your sister.

Suddenly, Yoongi felt something familiar with this kind of situation. His eyes jumped from you to Hoseok to your sister. This was all too familiar. He wondered why when he spotted Jimin and Taehyung making their way towards them. 

Fuck. This is just like Jimin’s old situation with his now girlfriend. 

“Any relatives, or friends you could stay with?” He asked, trying to avoid offering his place. His heart sped up at the thought and he cursed it for that. 

You shrugged, frowning as your sister sobbed and cried her eyes out, “Hyemi probably has some friends who would offer her a place, but me… not really… as pathetic as that sounds. I don’t even have enough money to stay too long at an inn.”

“Why not at Yoongi’s place then?” Jimin mentions, nudging the elder knowingly, “He and Hoseok would gladly offer you a place until your apartment is thoroughly inspected and cleaned up!” 

Yoongi glares at him for bringing up the idea, and the younger is aware of it as he ignores it to snicker at his distasteful frown with Taehyung who catches on. 

“With this old fart?” You snort, “I’ll just sleep on the streets then.”

“That wouldn’t be too advisable,” Hoseok cuts in, guiding a shaky Hyemi into your open arms to comfort her, “It’s only an assumption that this was an intentional killing. The files read that your father is well known businessman whose company went downhill until another organization stepped in to help pay, someone might be behind this... who knows if you two will be targeted as well.”

Yoongi gives a stern look towards the younger, who turns a blind eye.

“Yeah! It’ll be much safer with these two!” Taehyung grins, winking at the smirking Jimin. 

When it’s finally decided that you two would stay at their apartment, Yoongi vowed to get back at them later on. They exchanged teasing smirks, only for Yoongi to harshly pinch the closest one - Taehyung, who jumped and pouted at him. 

“You’ll all pay later,” He promised menacingly, eyes darting back to you and your sister waiting patiently in the car.

Hoseok grinned, “Not unless you’re thanking us for setting you up with the pretty older sister that you seem to already know!~”

“Now doesn’t seem like the best time, does it?” He harshly shoots back, remembering the despair written all over your expression back in the apartment.

The younger shrugs, keeping a lighthearted smile before turning to the other two more serious now, “We’ll take the two back then, we’ll be back soon.”

On the drive home, Yoongi wants boiling lava to burn him alive right then and there. They left a small crack in the divider glass, but all that can be heard are Hyemi’s faint sniffling. Even more than that, he can feel your burning gaze staring straight into the back of his skull.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” he whispers harshly to his partner as they lead you and your sister into their apartment. 

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll try to see if I can retrieve some of your clothes tomorrow if they’re not too busy clearing the scene or looking for evidence,” Yoongi dismisses when you both stand awkwardly in the middle of their living room, “We’ll be heading back now.”

“W-wait!” You call out almost automatically, catching him by his elbow. He turns to regard you with a raised brow and you seem to deflate at that, “If there’s anything you find out about my father, please tell me.”

He wonders how you go from fiery and rowdy to timid and vulnerable. As much as he hated to say it, it was quite cute ignoring the situation— what? Frowning at his inner thoughts, he merely nodded and left them to their own devices as he and Hoseok went on their way after leaving you with their phone numbers in case of an emergency.

“You thought she was cute back there didn’t you?” Hoseok grinned knowingly.

The elder shot him a glare, but not denying it either as they drove back to the crime scene. 

“You guys are dumb, I’m only letting them in because they’ll be in possible danger otherwise. Plus I can avoid blind dates now since we’re busy being bodyguards.”

“No need for blind dates when you’ve got Miss (Y/n).”

“Shut up, I already told you, now’s not a good time for her,” he frowned as they made their way back to the apartment.

“So you would’ve considered if the time was right?” Hoseok concluded more than asked.

He shrugged, obviously knowing he couldn’t deny it in front of his partner. 

“Forensics took the body to look closely and search for any fragments left from the bullet if any,” Jimin fills them in when they arrive to only find the taped outline of the victim, “The bullet went straight through, whoever did this must’ve wanted to keep any evidence from being left.”

“The place is utterly ransacked, I don’t know if that’s to create confusion, but it just looks like they were trying to find something.”

Yoongi kept quiet, crouching down near a toppled over bookshelf. The contents were spilled haphazardly across the carpet, including picture frames, books, and photo albums. He didn’t touch but he can make out pictures of you, your little sister, and your dad. One particular frame contained a peculiar photo of a woman, possibly your mother, but she looked the splitting image of Hyemi, nothing like you. He bent down and squinted when he found another piece behind it from the end that was broken. 

Sliding it out carefully, his brows furrowed at the different woman in the photo that held onto an infant while smiling brightly. That had to be you, he thought, recognizing small features that reminded him of you. As embarrassing as it seemed for him to already recognize it.

He waved it off as not looking similar to your sister.

A mistress he supposed. 

He took the previous picture as well, pocketing both to research later for facial recognition. 

“We’re just about done for the day, you two head home and we’ll report back to Namjoon,” Taehyung says as they walk back to their cars, “Don’t wanna leave your lady friend alone at home.”

Yoongi frowned at his teasing, “She’s just someone I met. Besides, she tried attacking me when we met.”

“So she’s feisty?” Hoseok smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

“Can you do me a favor then?” He asks, ignoring his partner, “Find out what you can about these two women.”

He hands Jimin the two photos before nodding a farewell. Hoseok follows after him curiously, “What was up with the two photos?”

“I found them by the bookshelf, one of the photos was hidden behind the other, there’s a different woman in the hidden one,” He explained as they drove home, in the corner of his eye he could tell Hoseok was pondering over the new information, “I was thinking it could be a mistress, the two look very similar to their respective mothers if I’m correct that the father had an affair. Or he could have remarried if something happened to (Y/n)’s mother.”

“It’s all just speculation,” He shrugged as they started towards their apartment, “Hopefully Jimin can find something.”

Turning the doorknob to their apartment, he pressed inward and felt a tsunami of savory scents crash into him as soon as they entered. He blinked as he noticed only Hyemi was sitting on the couch watching television.

“If you’re wondering, unnie is cooking dinner!” she cracks a small smile when she greets them respectfully. Although her eyes were still quite puffy and swollen from earlier. Yoongi noted how so much differently she acted opposed to your feisty firecracker actions. Was that just a way to protect yourself, he wondered.

He nodded and made his way towards the kitchen to see you standing by the stove. You look over your shoulder and he’s almost spellbound by the sight of you cooking in his kitchen. Until you ruined it by shooting him a glare and turning away with a grunt.

“Hello to you too,” He raises an eyebrow, ignoring your attitude to step behind you and look over your shoulder, “Kimchi fried rice?”

“I hope you don’t mind me going through your fridge, Hyemi got hungry so I thought I’d make dinner… as thanks for letting us stay here...” you trail off the last part but he hears it anyway, watching you mix in chicken.

“It’s nothing, it’s just part of the job I guess,” he shrugs, turning away to grab a drink from the fridge. As he does this, he doesn’t realize the pout that puckers your lips. 

Just a job, you think blandly as you finish up the meal and start plating it.

“You’re right,” You smile half heartedly as you place the platter on the dining table.

“Anyways, I have a question,” He asks, sitting down at the dining table as you take out bowls and utensils, “Where’s your mother?”

“What about her?” You turn suddenly, squinting at him suspiciously, “She left us when my dad fell into deep debt and started a family on her own, that’s all there is to it.”

Yoongi wondered which you were referring to. Hopefully Jimin could figure out the women in the pictures, it’d make it easier on him what kind of questions he’d ask. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume what happened.

“Right, sorry… just asking for any other connections to your father.”

“I guess,” you shrug as you call out for Hyemi who comes running along with Hoseok.

The latter gasps, “Wow! Haven’t had dinner this extravagant before! Besides from Jiminie’s girl of course.”

You frown at that, looking at him weirdly, which he catches with a knowing grin.

“We’re not that great at cooking, only simple dishes, other times it’s just takeout,” he explains, “Man! This must be how Taehyung and Jimin are getting by now, those two cannot cook for the life of them!”

“Jimin and Taehyung?” You repeat, thinking back to the apartment with the other two detectives, “Are they the two that were at the apartment today?”

“Yup, I guess you could say they’re like us, Yoongi and Jimin are both stone cold, while Taehyung and I are more wild I guess,” Hoseok grins back, “That being said, Yoongi is Jimin’s adoptive brother.”

Yoongi shoots Hoseok a glare, wondering why he was spilling details about him to them when they were just gonna be on their own once again after all has been solved and taken care of.

 When dinner was finished and you were washing the dishes, he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I’ll be heading over to your apartment tomorrow again, I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

He waited for a response, but you merely continued your washing silently. Hoseok had offered to wash, but you said it would only be fair for you to do it as thanks. Pursing his lips, he decided to leave it at that and turned on his heel to leave.

“Take me with you,” you finally said, turning around to hold his gaze, “I have to work anyways.”

“Work?” He repeats with a raised brow.

“Yeah, remember the alley you met me? It’s near the bar I waitress at… usually I’d go work at a restaurant, but tomorrow’s my off day.”

He’d just learned about your father’s debt just now, he didn’t realize that meant you had to shoulder it as well. You probably wouldn’t want him to pity you, but he felt a sudden admiration for you taking care of your sister. It reminded him of his younger self finding Jimin that eventful day and taking him in. 

“Okay, but we’re gonna have to stop by the precinct.”

He was about to leave when it seemed everything was said and done, but he stopped himself when he turned to see Hyemi lying down on the couch. 

“Do you two want to use my bed? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turned at this but looked away with surprise to see him staring right at you.

“I-it’s alright, plus who would want to sleep in your bed you pervert. Who knows what you do on your bed!” 

He squints at you, raising his eyebrows at your accusation. Scoffing, he turned away, “Don’t make any assumptions about my sex life, suit yourself then.” 

“Who would??” You shriek, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks at the image that creates for your wandering mind.

“Ugh I hate him!” You mutter under your breath as you return to the couch with blankets and pillows that Hoseok had lent to you. Hyemi glances up to you wearily, lifting herself to take a pillow and a blanket from you. “How are you feeling?”

The younger smiles weakly, her eyes falling to her lap when she feels the threat of tears building at her eyes. Her teeth dig into her quivering lip as you wrap your arms around her and tuck her head against your neck. 

“I can’t believe…” 

You hush her solemnly, laying your head back against the couch to blink back the tears that have welled at your own.

Yoongi turned back towards his room with a grimace. You didn’t need pity. But he can’t imagine the anguish and sadness that you and your sister must feel, abandoned by your mother, and now your father had been possibly murdered. It just wasn’t something you or your sister deserved to experience, especially with Hyemi that young of an age and having to now grow up without both of her parents. 

.

“Be safe!” You call out the next day as you and the detectives drop off your sister at her school. Despite unable to retrieve clothes for the day, the school had allowed her to wear her physical ed uniform until the search in your home was done, unless you pay for a new uniform but that was unlikely. It appeared as though you were back to being well put together, Yoongi noted as you hug your sister briefly.

Hyemi only smiles as she nods, Hoseok promising to pick her up when she’s done. Her expression is tired, but she still attempts to put on a show to mirror the strength of your facade. 

“I miss having school friends like that,” you sigh as you watch Hyemi disappear behind the school gates with a friend.

“Did you even have friends, with that attitude of yours?” Yoongi scoffs playfully as he begins driving towards the precinct.

You glare at the back of his head while Hoseok tries to diffuse the situation, “I did actually. I had good grades at that time! That was all before… that happened…” Your voice trails off and Yoongi wonders if he went too far. It seemed apparent now that your father’s debt had something to do with your personality. Could it also have been the estrangement of your mother? If the one you were referring to was in fact your mother. 

“Just sit at my desk and be quiet, don’t talk to anyone except Hoseok,” Yoongi says when you all arrive at the precinct. You frown at this but quietly do what he says when all eyes are on you.

“Dang Yoongi, what are you doing bringing your girlfriend to work?” Taehyung snickers as he enters from the break room. 

The elder glares at him, although the other officers in the room join the younger in snickering and teasing the usually cold man.

“Oh hyung,” Jimin perks up at his sudden appearance, beckoning him over, “I found information on the pictures you found.”

“Pictures?” You ask, “From my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi grimaced, motioning for you to come over. He couldn’t keep anything from you after all, you would’ve argued it as your right to see if it had to do with your family. “I hope you don’t mind, I picked up a couple of pictures I found in order to find some kind of connection to your father.”

“Not at all,” You blinked, wondering what he was getting out until he peered over the brunette to stare down at the two pictures with noticeably two different women. You’ve never seen the picture with the woman holding an infant before, and it was way too obvious that the child was you. “Where’d you get this?”

“I was looking around and found a broken picture frame, that picture was hidden behind the family portrait,” Yoongi explained, tapping on the second picture with the unknown woman, “You’ve never seen it before?”

You shake your head with a frown, brows furrowed in confusion, “I’ve never seen this woman ever in my life… but I do know that that is me she’s holding.”

“How ‘bout this woman?” Jimin ask, pointing to the woman you called your mother, the one you claimed to have left you and Hyemi.

“Our mother,” you point out with a shrug, “She’s off on her own with her own family now.”

“Right, well this woman…” he points at the one holding the infant, “I found her file, but not as a homicide case. Long time ago, her body was found in the river. It appeared she drove her car into the water, according to witnesses, and drowned, there were no signs of foul play so it was deemed a suicide.”

“There was no records on her, her only reported family is a younger brother… mm Hong Suk, I believe.. I have yet to look up his files at the moment.”

“And the other?” Yoongi asks, peering at your expression, but you hide your emotions better than usual.

Jimin holds up the family picture, “No criminal history as well, she seems to be living in a rural town outside of Seoul.”

“Do you have the address? I would like to ask her some questions.”

Despite you not wanting to see your mother, Yoongi insisted on bringing you with him and Jimin to the new home of your estranged mother. It felt weird standing outside the front door with the two donning their uniforms as they wait for someone to open the door. Footsteps resound behind the door, followed by clicks of the locks before an older woman opens the door. You recognize her immediately as the woman who left you and your sister.

“(Y/n)?” She asks, her voice surprised as she regarded the two officers politely, “What’s going on?”

“Ma’am, if we could have a moment of your time to ask you a few questions, that would be great,” Yoongi says after bowing his head respectfully, “Of course, you’re not obligated to answer if you wish not to… but it would be very beneficial considering this concerns your former husband who was found dead in his apartment the other day.”

Her eyes widen at this, looking at you for affirmation. You can only look away sadly, rubbing your palms together when there’s nothing more to be said when Yoongi said it all already. It’s not like you had anything to say to her anyway for leaving your family to join another. You just couldn’t let that fact go, even as she invites the three of you in for some tea to talk over the details and questioning.

“I see…” She starts, sitting down across from the three of you while pouring cups of freshly brewed tea for you all, “It must’ve been hard on you and Hyemi, huh?”

“Don’t act like you care about us,” You snap back harshly, looking away from her saddened smile. You could care less if she pitied you. Even now, you wondered why Jimin and Yoongi wanted to question her. It didn’t seem like she knew anything other than the fact that he was going into bankruptcy. 

Yoongi clears his throat audibly, slicing through the tension between you both.

“Lastly, do you happen to know the woman in this photo?”

You mother’s eyes widen in recognition, holding the picture of the unknown woman and child, “Wow, haven’t seen this photo in such a long time, you looked so cute then, (Y/n).”

You squint at her, not knowing what she meant. Obviously, the child looked like you, but you had no recollection of who that woman was.

“You and your mother.”

Standing up suddenly, your eyes widen at her, “What?”

Her lips pull into a guilty smile, eyes staring right down at the picture, “This woman’s your mother.”

“How can that be so?” You urge on, biting your lip at the sudden news.

“Before your father and I got married, he was seeing another woman who bore his first child. As much as I tried despising you after her death, I just couldn’t even after I gave birth to Hyemi. I could only love you even more,” she explained, “I didn’t know too much about that woman, but she had such a big effect on him… it made me jealous how even after her suicide he cared a lot for her… I could only choose to drive myself away from him when I just couldn’t take being second in his heart over her.”

She notices the look you have on your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration to remember but to no avail. It makes her smile weakly. 

“You have her looks too,” she laughs, “She was a beautiful and strong woman I’ll tell you that… she was great at hiding her emotions… maybe that’s why your father couldn’t tell her signs of postpartum depression until after her death…”

“Do you know much about her brother?” Yoongi asks, cautiously gauging your expression.

The woman shakes her head with a grimace, “I’m sorry, unfortunately I don’t know too much about him. This is as much I can offer to help.”

“No, thank you,” Yoongi bows sincerely, as does his partner, “We’re grateful you agreed to let us question you.”

As Jimin and Yoongi pay their respects and bow, the woman you had thought to be your biological mother catches you at the elbow. Her expression is meek as she looks down immediately and retreats her hand from you.

“Listen (Y/n), you have my condolences for your father and your mother… I know it doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but take care of yourself and Hyemi please. I… if there’s anything I can do… maybe a place to stay… I heard about the apartment… it’s not much but I can roll out a futon in the living room… my husband won’t mind much...”

“I know you may not ever forgive me for leaving you both, but I truly do care for you two.”

You smile sadly back at the older woman, “Thank you for the offer, I’ll bring it up to Hyemi, but as for me… I will not ever stay with you. If you had cared as much as you say, you would have stayed. ” Bowing deeply, you give her a silent nod before turning to follow Yoongi who had been waiting there for you. His mouth is sewn together in a taut grimace as he bows once again to your step mother and leads you towards the car. To him, you were prissy and hard headed but it was these moments where he remembers what you’re going through and how you’re handling it as maturely as you could. 

“I’ll see what I can do at your place, it’s only been a day so I can’t promise much clearance for your clothes.”

You couldn’t blame him if you had to wait another day for clothes, for now you had work to worry about. Although, you couldn’t keep yourself from mulling over the newly found information that is who your real mother is and the fact that she was dead. It was hard to accept, but you decidedly pushed the information to the back of your head for now as you wait for the two detectives to drive to your old apartment. From the parking lot below, you watch as the two approach other officers and converse, probably trying to get you a change of clothes.

They disappear into the home before the blonde reemerges and leans over the railing. He catches your eye and gives a curt shake of his head. You visibly slump, an action he later apologizes for when the two return to the car and explain how they have the apartment under lockdown still, clearance was still a possibility tomorrow and he’ll bring you first thing in the morning. 

“Do you need me to stay and watch over you?”

You blink at the man. Was he growing a third head? 

“I’ll be fine.”

Sighing, he glances at the bar front, frowning when a man walks from within the building, his appearance screaming exceptionally sleazy. Not to stereotype, but the ragged facial hair and barely made bed head, along with an inconspicuous beer belly threatening to pop open the straining button on his jeans, give Yoongi bad vibes. 

“The other night can beg to differ,” his harsh voice rasps, “You don’t know if your father was specifically targeted, they may also be going after you.”

“I can handle myself!” You start to retort, hand curling around the door handle to exit the vehicle.

However, Yoongi grips at your wrist to keep you from leaving, “Yeah? Because you totally had it covered lying on the ground while four men two or three times your size were about to do God knows what to you. I’d say it was well handled.”

Fucking sarcasm. Yoongi bit you in the ass where it hurt.

Your face flushes brightly at that. He had a point and you hated to admit that he was right. Without him there, you could’ve been taken advantage of or worse.

“I only say this out of worry, I know gross, but I’m serious when I say that you may or may not be targeted and we are not about to risk your safety because you can handle yourself.”

It’s safe to say that your conversation ended at that, and Yoongi drops you off momentarily so he can go home and change into civilian clothes. It would be too suspicious for a detective to be in uniform and hanging around in a bar until closing. For emergencies, he kept a holster fastened around his waist, underneath his shirt, in case something does happen. When he returns, you, dressed in your uniform, immediately catch his eye as soon as he enters. He sits casually in a booth in the far corner of the room where he has view of the whole bar. A subtle nod of his head suffices in greeting, but you still blow a raspberry and walk over. 

“Are you even allowed to be serving me alcohol?” He asks with a raises brow and you have to keep all you can from smashing the drink menu into his deadpan. You weren’t even sure if he was being serious or joking. Before you can retort, he waves his hand, “Forget it, just get me water, alcohol won’t do me good if something really does happen to you.”

“Why? Is your tolerance low?” You quip back venomously.

“I’d like to say the same to you, because apparently you’re an adult,” He mocks with an over-the-top scratching nasally tone. 

“Fuck off.”

And one point goes to Yoongi as you stomp back to grab him his water. His eyes narrow when you come walking back and a hand purposefully reaches out to cop a feel of your rear. His fingers tap over his lap, itching to shoot a bullet through the asshole’s hand, when you accidentally step on the guy’s foot with menace. 

Oh.

“Hey you bitch, you just stepped on my shoes!”

Fingers grip harshly to your wrist, yanking you back to the pervert’s table. Yoongi is already up on his feet and stepping in between you and the other man. He places a hand over the male’s wrist, the one keeping your struggling arm from escaping.

“I suggest you let go of her.”

The man raises a brow, narrowing his eyes in irritation at his meddling, “This has nothing to do with you, I suggest you sit down or I punch your pretty face and make you bleed.”

“And she obviously did not like you touching her ass, you pig, so let her go.”

“Hah?” The man balks at the insult, shoving your arm away in favor of standing to his full height, towering over the detective. “Say that again to me, pretty boy, I fucking dare you.”

The situation ultimately ends with Yoongi’s absolute domination and the two getting kicked out however. You’re still flattered that he stuck up for you nonetheless. Your boss had different thoughts however at the whole situation, especially when he’d definitely saw the deliberate stomp on his customer’s foot.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you to just ignore the customers, we’ll be losing business because of your stupid pride!” 

The blonde waits within ear distance, receiving your text that you would be leaving out the back right now. He immediately stopped when your boss had followed you outside. A slap to the face and Yoongi’s breath hitches. His fingers dig into his thighs through the fabric of his pockets. 

“You’re lucky you still have a job, stupid bitch.”

When Yoongi steps out from the shadows, you can barely look him in the eye. You’re back in the clothes he had dropped you off in, your gaze downcast and your cheek raw and stinging from the hit. Where was the headstrong girl he’d met the few nights before? 

“Does this always happen?” he attempts as he walks beside you towards his car. A sidelong glance is sent his way, a raised brow to accompany the look.

“Which are you referring to? The ass grab or my ass of a boss?’

“Both really.”

Not sure what compels him, he opens the passenger door for you. A gesture that is met by an eyebrow raise, making him question his own actions. You don’t comment thankfully, ducking into the car. 

“It’s common, I’ve gotten used to it by now,” you reply once he’s situated in the driver’s side, both strapping in your seat belts. He hated that you merely shrugged it off, like you didn’t just get berated by your boss. You deserved better than that. 

“That’s concerning.”

You stifle a snort at that. “That’s new, coming from you.”

“Am I a jerk to you or something?” He raises a brow as he turns on the ignition, the car purring to life. Your gaze is drawn to his slender ivory fingers, wrapping around the emergency brake handle. How was it even possible for him to have such pretty hands? They move to put the car in drive and you’re faintly aware that he’s waiting for a reply.

“N-not really… like you’re an ass sometimes but it kinda feels like you’re being forced to babysit me.”

“You’re my case after all.” It’s nonchalant, shrugging as if it were natural, but you still couldn’t help the unintended sting they inflict in your chest. If only you knew how in denial he was, trying to convince himself that you were indeed strictly a job he had to take care of.

“That’s not the point fuckhead, you and Hoseok let me into your home, a stranger, and now you’re taking me to work and watching over me…”

“We couldn’t have you staying on the streets when you barely have enough pay to afford an inn, not like that was an option when it’s possible someone’s coming after you and your sister,” he sighs this time, barely taking his eyes off the road to regard you with a frown, “Speaking of your sister, what are you going to do about your… er her mother’s offer?”

“I’ll bring it up to her… she misses her sometimes you know?… She might want to stay with her… I guess it’s also better than staying in a house with two grown men.”

His eyes narrow.

“What are you insinuating, brat?”

“As for me though,” you continue, ignoring him to his discontentment, “I can’t forgive her, with or without her being blood related, Hyemi can stay with her if she wants but I will never accept her help.”

And just as you claim, your younger sister is almost ecstatic to finally see her mother again. The elder woman smiling meekly at the young girl who glomps her with a big hug, her things in your hands as you silently pass them off to the one you had once called your mother. She attempted to smile your way and offer to shelter you as well, but you choose to ignore it.

“Take care of her. Please.”

It throws her off momentarily, but she can’t blame you.

“I will. You be safe too.”

Hyemi hugs you tightly, frowning and the verge of sobbing a protest. But you kiss her forehead and ruffle her hair, “Be strong for me, okay? Yoongi and Hoseok are gonna bring justice to Dad, okay?”

“But you can stay here too…” She knows how much you despise your… her mother after she left. Even if she never stopped loving and missing her, you could not find it in yourself to forgive her for it, ever. 

“I’ll see you when this is all over, okay?”

You’re silent on the drive back home, cooking dinner, and then crawling onto the couch that is half empty now that Hyemi is going to be under her mother’s care for the time being.

The cushions dip under an added weight, your eyes glancing to the side to see Yoongi sitting there with his eyes trained on the television screen. He was clad in sweatpants and a tee shirt, a look that you had to silently admit looked very appealing on his lean body. His eyes slide to meet your gaze, your cheeks warming as you look away in embarrassment. He doesn’t comment on your staring, thankfully.

“You don’t plan on sleeping in your clothes from yesterday again, do you?”

You look to him again, confused this time.

“What are you implying?”

He sits there for a while, his mind thinking like cogs turning in his brain before he gets up abruptly and returns to his room. You don’t pay him any attention, glancing down at your phone when Hyemi texts you a goodnight followed by various heart emojis. A smile graces your face. Before it’s gone when Yoongi launches a shirt and shorts at your head.

Yanking the garments from your head, you shoot him daggers before glancing down at the clothes. His clothes. A romance trope that your high school persona would have gushed over. 

“How cliche, didn’t see you as the type.”

“Shut it, or I’m taking it back.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug and shift to get up from the couch.

“Wouldn’t your girlfriend be jealous to see me wearing your shirt?”

“What girlfriend?”

“The one you were with that night, when you… stuck your nose in my business,” you recall the woman he’d been with that night, the one who had clung to his side after the police had shown up to detain the rowdy customers that had cornered you.

“You mean saved you, brat. It was a blind date. The idiots are trying so hard to tie me down, but I just don’t need one.”

You had almost been excited to hear that he was single. 

“How ‘bout you? Got a boyfriend?”

“Do I look like I have one?”

Glancing you up and down, he shrugged with a quirk of the side of his mouth into a subtle smirk, “With that attitude? I’d be surprised if you even had a friend.”

He was relieved. 

...What?

You roll your eyes, should’ve seen that one coming. “Okay asshole, to answer your question, no I don’t have one.”

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

What even were these replies?! What even was the way you felt nervous around him? You take this chance to head to the bathroom to change quickly, his shirt slightly big on your form as well as tightening the drawstring all the way. Before heading out, you pause to stare into your reflection. 

How did it even come down to this? Dressed in the clothes of a man you hadn’t known for longer than two days. How did it even amount to the rosiness that bleeds across your cheeks and the muddled mess that’s your beating heart.

Returning, he’s taken a seat on the couch to your surprise, waiting for you to return possibly. You didn’t want to bring your hopes up. 

...What? No no no, you did not just think that. 

You muster up the courage to force down the lump in your throat and sit down beside him, pulling your legs up to your chest as you join him in watching the cartoon on screen. Then you break the silence once more.

“Can I ask you something?”

You cast him a glance, unaware of the heat burning at his cheeks and ears, his eyes flickering every now and then to drag over your form in his clothes. His adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow.

“What?” his reply comes out smooth, biting his lip in attempt to cool his head.

“Why are you so concerned?”

He deadpans, “Great question, you’re a brat, annoying, no ass on top of that, can barely fight for shit, get yourself into trouble quite often too…”

Irritated, you grab a pillow and launch it at his head, “So you are babying me you ass!”

“You’re my case, deal with it,” he scoffs, catching the item before it hits the side of his face.

After a moment passes, he breaks the silence that had settled after your outburst.

“Can I ask you something then.”

“What?”

“Why stay there?”

You blink, looking up at the ceiling as though the answer were there, “The bar? Not a lot of places take a girl with a delinquency record you know? I didn’t continue after high school, so I’m really limited.”

He wanted to ask you to quit. But that didn’t seem right. It didn’t even add up. Who was he to tell you to do so? You’re just a case. That’s why he cared. Because he was going to be the one who closes your father’s case and bring justice for what happened to him.

...Even if you were pretty and looked really nice in his clothes.

“I know what you’re going to say, even my dad didn’t like me working there. It’s shit. I know. The boss, an asshole, but it’s all I could manage to support my father and Hyemi. Sometimes I do wish I could go back to school.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Hyemi, remember? My father was busting his ass off when someone had paid his debts and salvaged his company, so he’s working hard to pay the him back.”

This was new.

“Him?”

“Father didn’t really talk about work too much. So I don’t really know who helped him, but it really stressed him out paying back whoever had helped him out.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over his mouth as you yawn beside him. The action was cute. 

“Speaking of,” He starts out, garnering your attention once again, “How are you holding up?”

You figured he was talking about your father again. How were you feeling? Sad? Empty? Angry? A mixture of anything and everything negative? He was no therapist, but as much as you can smile at Hyemi and act strong for her, the emotion never reached your eyes. You were exhausted and grieving, but it never helped that you still had to pick yourself back up for the sake of your sister and having to take life on despite the misgivings of the world taking your father away from you both. Moreover that, he wondered how you felt knowing your actual mother was not the one you’d grown up with. He wanted to know what was going inside your head, how you were able to just keep going despite everything being thrown at you in an effort to drag you down.

It all reminded him of Jimin, but in a way you were still very different from the boy he’d met many years ago. You, however, were very good at putting a smile on your face despite the exhaustion in your eyes from putting up a front. 

Just as he says, the ghost of a smile curls at your lips, your eyes glancing down at your toes.

“I’m not sure if it’s even hit me, to be honest, I’m not even sure how to feel about my mom not being my mom,” You say, followed by a humorless laugh, “I cried with Hyemi, yeah… but there’s no time for me to grieve or crumble… I’m sure even he wouldn’t want us wasting away because of his death…”

“You still should give yourself the chance to let it out.”

The sentiment was there, you suppose, touched by his concern for your emotional wellbeing.

“The night before, the night we met too, he gave me coupons to take Hyemi out to eat… I wonder if he knew… he said said he loved us… and it sounded so sad… even knowing that would be last time we got to say that to each other… I wonder if he expected this to happen…”

“Besides that… I just don’t want Hyemi to see me like that…” You say finally after a moment of silence, “I want to be strong for her. It might just seem like its the end if I can barely hold myself up, you know?”

He understood that.

“Enough of the sad talk, you might actually make me cry you jerk.”

You both continued to talk, and you were grateful for his presence. Although you both butted heads, quite a lot actually, you let him whisk you away from thinking about your father and the situation just for right now. You let him lead the conversation, talking about some of the disgusting things he’s seen as a part of the homicide unit, talking about how he’d gotten his adoptive brother to calm down and even get a girlfriend despite his stigma against women, talking about how Hoseok nearly set their apartment on fire trying to make stir fry one night. 

Yoongi didn’t notice how you both drifted off naturally, the lights still on and the television still running with the late night shows. His eyes blink away the remnants of sleep when a hand shakes his shoulder. Adjusting to the lights still on, he almost forgets where he was before he’d fallen asleep, Hoseok’s smirking expression coming into view as the younger points to the pressure on his shoulder. He doesn’t even need to look to know that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, your body shifting slightly to curl closer to him, the upright position no doubt uncomfortable for your back and neck.

Don’t even think about it, his eyes glare back at his partner who wiggles a suggestive brow, but still helps him remove you from his side and tuck you into a more comfortable position. 

Yoongi doesn’t want to look at you, but he steals a peek at your calm expression, heart picking up in speed as he reaches out to brush his palm over your head. 

The next morning, your neck is slightly uncomfortable for a reason you don’t know, but you choose to ignore as you cook breakfast for the day. 

“How is it over there, get some good sleep?” You ask as Hyemi’s face bobs around the screen at the excitement of your video call in the morning. 

“Mhm, they’re really nice to me, Naeun is really cute, you should meet her!” 

You never really knew the names of your two half siblings, that were biologically only Hyemi’s half siblings, but the awkwardness in what to call your supposed mother and her kids made your head hurt. The girl shifts the phone to show ‘Naeun’ who looks both shy and confused at your form cooking breakfast and still glancing at your phone propped up against a roll of paper towels.

“Hi?” You manage as Hyemi giggles and the camera is pointed back on her face. In the background, you can hear voices as your sister nods to the speaker before turning back towards you.

“I’m getting dropped off to school now, let me know if I can get my uniform soon! I miss you unnie!”

Her smile is the last thing you see before the call is ended and you feel slightly relieved. At least she was able to smile. That much was helpful enough to soothe your worries being without Hyemi for an indefinite amount of time.

Yoongi is noticeably stiffer around you today as they receive clearance for yours and Hyemi’s room only. You drop by to pick up some clothes as well as necessities and Hyemi’s things, that you drop off to the latter’s mother’s house. They drop you off at the restaurant you work at while they head back to the precinct and then your apartment again with Jimin and Taeyung.

“We got word back from forensics,” Jimin says as they once again go over the living room, your father’s body replaced by a taped off silhouette, “No prints, not even fragments either, I’m not surprised though, given the proximity he must’ve been shot at.”

“Did you get anything on Hong Suk?” Yoongi asks as they venture into the messy room of your father. The matress was thrown off its frame, planks scattered out of formation. The cubicles of the dresser were yanked out, clothes strewn all over. 

“His record is clean from what I could tell, although there was a file involving the mysterious death of their parents. I believe he’s the one taking over her father’s company at the moment.”

“I see, maybe we should pay a visit to the company,” the blonde hums as takes a step and pauses. Crouching down, the younger notices this and comes over as he raps his fist against the floorboards. Running his finger over the floor, he catches a noticeable square patch that he pries open to reveal a hidden compartment. 

Heroin. Their eyes staring down the plastic bag of the packaged substance. 

Was this what the killer was looking for? Why was your father hiding drugs in your home? What was going on?

Yoongi decides to keep the drugs a secret from you. They couldn’t draw too many conclusions from the pack when they returned to the precinct with the package as well as hair follicles that Hoseok had luckily found. He just wasn’t about to break it to you that your father was hiding drugs, it would break you. You obviously had no idea what he did or who had helped out his company, knowing this would only tear you down.

From the restaurant, it’s a walk away from the bar, where you feel an eerie feeling of being watched. You had hurried to work despite the feeling, but the discomfort never left when one customer in particular appears nervous and fidgety around you. He gives you a negative vibe that you try to avoid, but when you glance his way, his eyes are on you before quickly flicking away. He fumbles with his hands quite often, sliding his palms together as if they were sweating profusely. 

“Yo-you’re really cute,” He attempts very awkwardly when you take his drink order. You can only internally cringe and simply thank him, the searing eyes of your boss watching you after the scuffle from the other night. 

“I’m going to have to politely decline,” You force out when he offers to take you out for a coffee or something, definitely ignoring the way you shift from one foot to another and try to leave. 

It doesn’t help that you see him outside the bar, waiting for you, glancing at the entrance as you get into Yoongi’s car hurriedly.

The blonde raises a brow at your frantic state until you point out the man. “That guy was creeping me out today, he was there ever since I started my shift and kept staring at me and insisting that I go out with him.” The memory of his eyes constantly on you made you shiver.

Brown eyes narrow at the fidgety male, glancing over his appearance, watching the way he rubs his hands together nervously before driving away.

“Let me know if he comes back,” he says finally, briefly placing his hand over your head. A gesture that you’re thankful for.

“Did you find out anything new today?” You ask the inevitable question when you both have long returned to his apartment and finish up clearing the table from dinner. He helps wash the dishes while you dry. Yoongi almost curses your ability to somehow read the flash of hesitancy that shifts in his eyes. “You found something didn’t you?”

He also curses that he can’t find it in himself to lie to you about the drugs hidden in your dad’s room. It was unneeded stress on your shoulders, but you’re smarter than you let on as you wait for him to answer you. He notices the way you pout, and wills himself to keep a sturdy front, despite his heart exploding with butterflies.

“Stop that, you’re not cute,” He huffs, but if having to live with you for the past three days meant anything, he knew that you wouldn’t quit pestering him, as well as rip him a new one for calling you uncute. “We found a DNA sample in the apartment…”

“And?”

He blinks at you. God you were too smart for your own good. 

“...”

“Min Yoongi.”

Oh. That was new. You’ve never referred to him using his full name. He stuffs the thought that he quite likes the way you say his name, even if you were currently annoyed, away. 

“No,” He grumbles, ruffling his bangs as he finishes putting away the last of the dishes you towel-dried.

“You promised.”

“I didn’t promise shit.”

Fuck. There’s that face again.

“You’re an ass.”

He snorts, “At least I have one.”

You physically start punching him, although more halfheartedly. 

“We found packs of what we presume to be heroin, hidden in a compartment under his bedroom floor.”

All movement comes to a halt. Eyes wide as your hands fall to your sides. This is exactly why he didn’t want to tell you. An array of emotions glimmer in your eyes, he recognizes each stage of realization and hurt and confusion, your lips opening and closing. 

“You don’t think… he would never!”

“We aren’t jumping to conclusions, I just knew you would overthink and stress out your little head over it.”

You settle down at his words, shoulders slumping and your hands open and closing at your sides as you look down. Your father would never do such a thing, right? Given your new found knowledge of his mistress, your biological mother, was he resorting to desperate measures from the loss of not one but two women he had loved dearly. Was it the job? Was he trying to pay back his debt through nefarious means? Was this the reason he’s so worn down? 

Guilt dug itself into your chest. If only you could’ve done more, if only you could’ve been stronger. 

“You weren’t planning on telling me about this?”

Yoongi doesn’t flinch, but his chest squeezes, knowing you would have been upset with him either way. Hair blocks his eyes from searching for the hurt that’s probably found its way onto your expression, he’d only feel worse if he saw it anyways.

“You have plenty to worry about as it is,” He says with a gentle and hesitant hand over your head, “This was exactly what I was trying to avoid, you’re probably blaming yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Curse him for being able to read you so well. Then again, your head hung down wasn’t exactly a connotation that exuded happiness or anything that wasn’t sadness and frustration. Curse him again for inadvertently causing the influx of butterflies trapped in your chest at the slightest brush of his palm over the crown of your head. 

“I hate you,” You mutter, glaring up at him weakly.

“You’re so uncute,” He huffs back to your further annoyance.

The thought was appreciated though. He had thought about you, and that warmed you just thinking about it. For now, you frowned at once again being called not cute and leave him to get ready for bed.

Hoseok drops you off at the restaurant the next day after Yoongi heads to the apartment first thing with Jimin and Taehyung.

“How you doing so far?” The brunette smiles good naturedly as he turns on the car.

You never really spoke to Hoseok one-on-one before, but he radiated an easy-go-lucky air similar to Taehyung, if you remember his name right. His smile seemed to calm you down and soften any guard you had up. It was a polar opposite from the limited expressions that Yoongi expressed around you. Limited meaning, deadpan all day everyday, with the occasional frown and annoyed glare.  

“I’m holding up okay, I guess?” 

He hums at that, “Hyung get on your nerves last night?”

You balk at him, were you two that loud last night? The echo of his words calling you uncute last night haunted you suddenly and you looked away with a pout. It beats you that you mull over the statement rather than his unwillingness to keep you posted on your father’s case.

“He’s an ass.”

“He is,” He chuckles lightly, “But he seems a little more… human around you, you know? It’s quite refreshing.”

“What do you mean?” You ask curiously, interest piqued.

His eyes meet yours briefly as he comes to a stop light, “He’s a little cold, yeah? He’s barely expresses anything other than blank, and he doesn’t even talk a lot unless it’s around Jimin’s girlfriend… but lately he’s been different with you around.”

“Are you sure? He inadvertently called me ugly last night,” You say with a scornful frown.

“Those two share the same wavelength in a way,” He hums nonchalantly, “He’s not entirely socially adept, the same as Jiminie who calls his girlfriend grandma quite often… but that’s beside the point. What do you think of him?”

The question shocks you. What were you supposed to think of him after just a few days spent with him? He teased you, and yet he also took care of you in a way. He made you feel safe and calm despite everything that’s spiraling into hell around you. He made everything just a little bearable. That much you can admit… to yourself.

“You’re cute, you know?” The brunette says, yanking you out of your thoughts with the surprising compliment. He laughs heartily as your cheeks brighten at the sudden proclamation. “Hyung must think that too… ah, looks like we’re here, watch out for yourself heading to the bar after. Give us a call if you don’t feel safe or something happens, yeah?”

Your eyes linger on his carefree smile, huffing as you finally thank him for the ride. There was no point in dealing with thoughts of Yoongi right now, you had to work and just get through the day for now. 

Hoseok makes an amused sound before he’s interrupted by his message tone, his eyes tearing away from your form disappearing into the restaurant to appraise his cell phone. 

‘The guy who was creeping out (Y/n) last night was snooping around her apartment suspiciously. We took him in for questioning, meet at the precinct after you drop her off.’

A sigh leaves his lips as he sets down his phone to start driving again. 

These two are so oblivious, he thinks.

 Yoongi sits at the metal table, elbows propped up on the hard surface with his digits laced one over the other, his mouth pressed against his hands. His eyes are hard steel as they gaze down at his files, courtesy of Jimin’s research, before looking up to the fidgety man. The other flinches at the attention, nearly shitting right then and there when the door suddenly opens to Hoseok. 

Lee Hoon. The exact same features from the other night, as well as the same habit of rubbing his hands together. He’d thought maybe he had a small creepy crush, but it didn’t even make sense for him to show up at your apartment. Was he a stalker? That night was the first time you’d interacted, right? Had he watched from afar prior? Followed you home? 

The thought made him more irritated than he expected as he skims over the details of him being an employee at your father’s company.

Oh.

Under his scrutiny, the poor guy’s ready to wet his pants just by Yoongi existing. 

“Lee Hoon. Correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“You work under the late (y/l/n)-ssi’s company right?”

“Yes, I was part of the few who stayed after the business fell into debt.”

Yoongi hums as Hoseok’s airy tone seems to relax the suspect greatly. It didn’t lessen the grating sight of his chestnut hue glaring into his very soul.

“Saves us some time, I suppose, we were planning on heading over to the company to ask a few questions about your late boss,” the blonde muses this time, lifting his chin just slightly in indignance, almost gazing down on him, “Might I ask what you were doing lurking around (y/l/n)-ssi’s apartment?”

The man doesn’t answer, but he takes this into stride.

“And at the bar? His daughter mentioned interacting with you, you even stood outside waiting for her.”

“That couldn’t have possibly been me,” He manages firmly, but Yoongi watches his movements carefully, the way his eyes flicker and dilate, even the slightest bit, “I’ve never spoken to or seen his daughters before.

“Mm, I see,” Hoseok hums, noting how riled up his partner is more than usual, “Let’s back track a little bit shall we? While working under (l/n)-ssi, was there any malicious intent… or well any negative blood from other workers?”

The man shook his head, “Not that I’m aware, Sir was a good man and an attentive boss as well. Everyone spoke highly of him, even as the company took a nose dive. He worked harder than the rest of us.”

That was no lie. His hand rubbing never seized out of anxiety, but he had visibly perked at the question. 

“I see,” Hoseok nods at the information, before he laces his fingers underneath his chin, a cheshire smile curling at his lips, “I don’t suppose you know what comes with being indicted for homicide, do you?”

“Capital Punishment.” The two words are broken apart with heavy pauses for emphasis as he watches the man squirm uncomfortably, “His poor daughters are left without a father, nor an acting mother… I can only imagine the monster who was involved in such thing, how he’s able to live with himself and touch his wife and kids without a single remorse. Even the sick person who would be such a monster’s accomplice, guilty by association amirite?”

“It really beats me,” Hoseok smiles kindly, as Jimin and Taehyung shiver through the one-way mirror. 

“Hyung can be really scary sometimes.” The brunette rubs his arms, goosebumps littering his skin as Jimin makes a noise of agreement. The guilt that spills over Hoon’s face is evident, especially when facing Hoseok’s sardonic smile. 

“He’s happy go lucky, but really, he’s two-faced,” Jimin blows a raspberry, “You’d think he’s on your side, but that makes it all the more easier to manipulate you into his hands.”

They immediately clamp their mouths shut as Hoseok continues to coax the man into spilling, that damned smile never leaving his lips. Anyone would see the smile of an angel, they saw the smile of a wolf in sheep’s skin.

That side of the older detective never really came out often, but it never failed to make the two youngest uncomfortable, the hair on the back of their necks rising. Normally playful and bright walnut eyes turned dark and cynical, no space for mercy or the kindness that feigned on his curled lips. 

“Hong Suk killed him! I-I, he brought me long to find the girl, and take the drugs he still had, but… but I couldn't find it… and he sent me back or else he’d kill me and my family!”

Did he mean you? They all thought, perking up at the statement.

Yoongi takes a break from the interrogation, leaving the room to greet Taehyung and Jimin on the other side of the one way mirror. He nods firmly to them, as he slips out his phone to check the time. 

“Picking up your girlfriend?” Taehyung sports a small smile despite just finding out your father’s killer. His partner elbows him with a slight frown. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you like her?”

Taehyung takes his silence as a yes. The blonde’s eye twitches in annoyance, “She’s my case.”

“That you have feelings for?”

“Taehyung I swear to God,” he frowns, directing his attention to Jimin who looks like he’s thinking way to hard. 

“Her being your case is different from liking her, hyung. I mean, I had always thought of my girlfriend as being nothing more than my case… I guess I didn’t realize until late that she meant a lot to me. You know… ‘cause Jungkook got to her before I could.”

“Invalid,” he deadpans. “I met her three days ago, I do not like her. That’s highly inappropriate.”

“That’s like saying Jimin’s relationship is inappropriate,” Taehyung snickers to Jimin’s annoyance, followed by a weak punch to his arm.

“We got together after I closed her case, you ass.”

“Still inappropriate,” The blonde shuts down once again as the door to the interrogation room opens.

“But you find her cute, no?” Hoseok smiles as he emerges from the room, glancing slyly back through the mirror to see the man reduced to trembles and holding his head in his hands.

“Did you break him Hobi, what the fuck?” Jimin balks, but the brunette ignores the younger’s statement.

“Yoongi, you can’t possibly tell me that you have no dick and didn’t feel anything when you both fell asleep two nights ago on the couch with (Y/n) wearing your shirt.”

The reaction is spontaneous. Taehyung and Jimin gasping none too dramatically as they bat their eyelashes in his direction, but he’s already turning around to hide the heat tinging his ears.

“Great, I have no dick, now fuck off I have to go pick her up from work,” He responds icily, shutting them up with a finishing glare over his shoulder. 

Liar. They all, even he himself, thinks. 

Fuck.

Is his last coherent thought however as the shift supervisor explains to him that you had stepped out for lunch but never came back, your things still there as well as your phone left on the pavement in the back. 

Everything comes crashing down, and despite his steel-like expression, he’s actually panicking and terrified. 

“Hoseok!” Yoongi’s voice strains into the phone, heart pounding in his ears as he jams the clip of the seat belt into the buckle. Dread is building up in his system, forehead breaking out into a sweat.

‘I got it hyung, don’t worry, he spilled the location of Hong Suk and his plans on kidnapping (Y/n), we’ve got our units ready to head out, I’ll send you the location.’

.

You feel sick to your stomach. Still dressed in your work clothes, body very inconveniently tied to the chair. When you had finally come to, confused and lethargic, he was there, watching you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you weren’t sure you even wanted to know - was… was that drool? The sight of slick falling from his mouth causes your stomach to lurch.

“Finally awake?”

Your mind is all over the place, barely able to concentrate, shaking off the remnants of being knocked out. For now, you didn’t know where you were, or who this man was. It didn’t even help being bound to your seat.

“You know your father left behind a real hefty debt you know? With him gone… who’s gonna repay me for saving his business?”

All thoughts come to a screeching halt when he steadily approaches and you become more aware of the room you’re in and the man - your assumed kidnapper. He wasn’t the one who had approached you at the restaurant if you remember correctly before you were knocked out. It looks no more than a regular bedroom consisting of: a bed with a pink comforter set, some stuffed animals, a desk with photo frames, a vanity, and a closet. It was the average girl’s room. And the man? Tall, (e/c) eyes that were wide as they scraped over your form, his body clad in slacks and a white dress shirt and tie. 

“What are you gonna do about it? Eldest right? And an illegitimate child at that,” his voice grates, saccharine sweet but more like needles in your ears. 

“How do you kn… D-don’t fucking touch me!”

Is what you would’ve said if it weren’t for the tape over your mouth. 

You wanted to lean away as far as could, nearly gagging as his hands reached out to caress your face. A blissed sigh comes from his almost manic smile, tension releasing from his shoulders as his fingers drag down lower, the curve of your neck, then over your shoulder. Your body trembles, the sense of fear filling you.

Stop, stop, stop, you think, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Which he does to your surprise. His face comes closer this time, too close for comfort that his breath wafts over your face. You turn your head with a scrunch of your nose and he expects this, gripping your jaw harshly in his hand and whipping your head towards him. 

Where was Yoongi? Where were you?

“Did you even know? Your father fucked over a really important person to me you know. Drove her insane, killed her.” He whispers the last part at the shell of your ear, back away slightly to gauge the shock that morphs your face. Relishing in the way your brain works to piece together the puzzle, eyes darting as you analyze his face and the picture frames on the desk beside you. One in particular is of a family, a girl you recognize and a boy and their parents. The faces of their parents, scratched out with a permanent marker however.

The man laughs. Covering his face with his hand as he bends at the waist, keeling over and shaking with euphoria at your expression.

“Hah look at your face! Didn’t know that did you? Didn’t even know who your real mother was. You and your father. You killed her! My beloved sister. She was my world. My everything. But she was stupid. Falling for a business man like your father and leaving me, her beloved little brother by himself. Was pretty easy to take down his company to be honest. Lawsuits? Childsplay.” His eyes peek through the slits of his fingers, leering down on you.

“Which brings me back to my point, my cute little niece. What should I do with you? Not like I have any use for you anyway. I’ve got what I wanted, your father out of my way, and his business is now mine. Simple right? But don’t think you’ll be able to go after hearing all this, quite silly don’t you think? Where’s your little sister? She doing okay? Doesn’t matter.” He’s talking quickly, erratically, and you can barely keep up as he steps around the room with his hands gesturing wildly before coming to a stop. Eyes turned toward you, pointing almost accusingly, “You. You got her blood, her face, everything. Should I keep that for myself? God I wanted her to be mine, only mine, she was mine until your father stole her from me.”

Circling around you, he reaches out to tangle his hands in your hair. You yelp against the tape, scalp burning at the pull. He ignores the sound and instead sniffs the lock of hair and sighs blissfully. Yanking your head to the side, his nose presses to your neck, slithering his nasty tongue down your length as you struggle and attempt to shout against the tape over your mouth.

His nail drags across your neck slowly, harsh and painful, as though he were scraping off your skin. 

“Or how about I harvest your organs? I’ll keep your cute little head, fuck, you look just like her, it’s getting me a little... excited. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

Tears pour from your eyes, breathing as much as you can through your nose before it’s all cut off when his fingers dig into your neck. 

“But you’re not her, you could never be her! Why did you have to be born? Why did you have to kill her?” Anger burns in his eyes, nearly spitting in your face as he accuses you. Your arms attempt to thrash against the bindings, nails biting into your palm as his bite into your throat.  

Your vision is starting to thin, blurring before he stops at the abrupt echo of the doorbell. There’s barely enough time to register what’s happening, your ears ringing at the sound of gunshots and shouting. The door to the room was thrown open, but Hong Suk had already retrieved a knife and placed it at your neck, other hand yanking your head back by your hair. 

“Let her go Hong Suk.” That’s Yoongi’s voice. You blink multiple times, trying to focus on the figures that seem to melt together in your haze. Yoongi’s face is blurry, but you recognize the frown that marrs his pretty face, fire in his eyes when he takes in the state you’re in.

“Isn’t she cute?” Your biological uncle grins, taking a long sniff of your hair bunched up in his hands. He takes extra care in dragging his tongue over your cheek, revelling in the way the blonde growls. 

“I was thinking of experimenting on her too, reduce her to a begging little bitch once she’s gotten a taste of this,” his eyes dart to the plastic bag of needles on the desk, causing the blonde to stiffen.

I’m gonna kill him, Yoongi bristles, to which Jimin notices and nudges him subtly but keeping his aim trained on the deranged male. It was no use for him to get worked up, you were being held captive, it only mattered now to extract you without getting you hurt or even killed.

“How’d you find us?” He asks flippantly, pressing the knife to your neck, but not enough that your skin breaks underneath the sharp edge. 

“Your accomplice broke after half an hour.”

A moment passes as he seems to connect the dots and figure out just who they were referring to.

“That useless piece of shit! I should’ve killed him earlier!” He fumes at the realization, “Couldn’t find the drugs or the girl, making me do all the dirty work.”

Hoseok notices the dart of Hong Suk’s eyes, licking his lips carefully. “Put down the knife, you’re surrounded with no one coming to help you.”

He’s was right, and even the man knew that as he forced down an anguished sigh as he let the knife falter and his hands raise above his head in defeat. There was no use in resisting when every gun in the room pointed at him. 

Even when he did make a jolt for the gun lying in wait nearby, Yoongi was quick to put a bullet through his hand, causing the man to fall to the floor, clutching his wrist with a pained cry.

.

Yoongi comes rushing to your side outside after detaining Hong Suk and others in the home, other officers currently searching the home for anything pertaining to the heroin found in your father’s room. 

You sit on a gurney by the ambulance, finishing up the last of the check up from the paramedic. Your eyes finds his, examining his distraught expression, heavy with guilt at the same time. This was more of Yoongi than you’ve ever seen. The anger and disgust directed at Hong Suk, the subtle relief when you were extracted safely. So many emotions in one man, that you never knew he could experience when he appeared rather cold during your first meeting. 

“Thank you, for everything,” You smile wearily as he makes his way over to you, placing a fond hand over your head. When had that become your guy’s thing? Especially after barely a week of knowing one another. 

“Just shut up for a second,” he mumbles softly, his other hand balling into a tight fist at his side. The hand on your head slides back to press your face against his neck. His heart beats and he lets out a long sigh of relief. All the tension from earlier dissipates.

“You did well, you were so strong, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner… and let him touch you like that...”

“You’re here now,” you mutter meekly, pursing your lips as you inhale the calming scent of his body wash. 

“I am,” his voice replies lightly, a slight hint of a chuckle but not quite. 

Nothing changes that fact that you still stay at Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment for a while longer, although you grow busy with handling your father’s cremation and funeral (an event that has you and Hyemi crying nonstop)  and the court proceedings leading to the indictment of Hong Suk and his accomplices. Your father’s company had ended up being stripped, with Hong Suk as the acting head, he’d used it to further his drug production and distribution and organ trafficking (which is overturned to the narcotics unit and NIS respectively). Not that you could’ve done anything if you had inherited the company from your father. 

Yoongi finds you in your apartment looking through old photos of you, Hyemi, and your father. Most of which were pre-bankruptcy since your quality time together had taken a nose dive and joyful memories just weren’t made anymore. 

“What do you plan on doing from now on?” You look up, he’s there in casual clothing, hands shoved in his pockets of his slacks. Wow. The thought bubbled in your head, heart beating just a tad faster. He had always looked good to be honest, from the first you had met him on his post-date commute home, and when he came to watch you at the bar. Denim jeans and a plaid flannel over a plain tee? So simple and still drool worthy.

Okay.

No.

Not drool. The thought made you shiver, remembering Hong Suk that day.

Then you remember that you haven’t answered his question yet and you’re basically checking him out at this point while having an eternal thirst-driven panic.

“I don’t know to be honest,” You finally start shakily, brushing your fingers over a picture of your father tossing little Hyemi into the air, a huge smile on his face. His face was youthful and lively, no worries in the world and simply content. “My apartment is trashed and I don’t even know if I’d feel like staying here again when my dad’s gone and having to pay for rent and groceries by myself. I can’t have Hyemi staying with… her mom for too long as well.”

A moment passes and Yoongi takes a deep breath, soothing his nerves temporarily as he takes a determined step up to your side.

“What about staying with us… permanently?”

Your head snaps up to his, eyes widening a fraction as his warm gaze stared back. Heat rises to your cheeks, breaking the stare to look down at the frame in your hands with furrowed brows.

“That’s nice Yoongi, but I’m sure I’ve overstayed what’s acceptable of just a case, and I’ve got Hyemi too, your apartment is two roomed as well... ”

“You’re not just a case anymore,” He says simply when your voice finally falters.

“Why are you so concerned?”

Ouch.

You got him there. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read your tone and expression, but you refused to look up at him. Especially with your cheeks burning, you kept your head down. Were you teasing him? You had asked the same thing that night as well.

“Don’t make me say it.”

You prove your point by moving to leave, setting down the frame promptly as you did so, when his fingers wrap around your wrist to tug you back towards him.. 

“I hate you.”

You deadpan, “Very concerned, thank you for the past month Yoongi, but I should start figuring out what I’m going to do with my and Hyemi’s life.”

The utter frustration is so palpable in his low groan, you were so stubborn and he fucking loved it. 

“We’ll find a bigger place to stay (Y/n), we’ll take care of you two, you can quit that stupid bar job, start school again, you can rely on me.”

“Why?” 

God you were such a brat. His fingers squeeze your wrist briefly, hardened mocha staring into your own before he glances away. 

Do it.

It’s now or never.

“I like you, you stupid brat,” He finally admits. It had all pieced together that he stopped seeing you as a case to close. Although his time with you was short, way shorter than Jimin’s case with his own girlfriend, he fell face first into your charms. Annoying, but still goddamn charming. 

You look up at him, lip trembling as this flatten into a frown and you’re furrowing your eyebrows up at him, “You don’t mean that. I’m troublesome and bratty, all just like you said. We just met weeks ago, I only stayed with you because there was no other option and… and now you want us to stay with you… permanently? Why would you go so far? For someone like me?”

“I’m doing this ‘cause your sister’s cute,” He deadpans, and you almost take him seriously when he jabs your forehead with his index, “Fuckhead, did you not hear me? I like you.”

“Yoongi..” You gasp obnoxiously with a hand covering your mouth, “I didn’t know you were a pedophile.”

“I take it back, I hate you,” He grunts, “My offer still stands, we’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck. 

Were you crying?

Were you seriously about to cry because of him?

He anticipates this and looks away while casually opening his arms to beckon you close. Although, he wasn’t expecting you to throw yourself, face first, into his chest. His palm settles over your head in that way he does that emits a sense of security that just calms. You don’t know what it is about him patting your head, you were no dog, you just liked it. A lot. You liked him. A lot. That much was evident with the creeping blush dusting over your cheeks.

It never helped either when you found yourself gradually nuzzling back against the pressure of his hand, urging him to keep his palm there. If you ever did get addicted to something, it would be the bubble of feelings that erupt in your chest, the quickening pace of your heart when he’s around, the glow of your cheeks when he’s got you so very flustered. 

“Is this how you flirt?” You ask when you finally calm down, as though you weren’t just smothering your snot and tears in his shirt and coddling his hand like a mutt, “Pick up a girl off the street and ask her to live with you. No dates. You’ve skipped quite a lot of bases.”

“I didn’t pick you off the streets you brat, I picked you up when you fainted here.”

“Okay listen, I don’t need to remember that.”

“Busted through the officers at the door like an absolute badass, can you imagine how exasperated I felt when I realized this was your apartment, especially after our encounter the night before?” 

“Even now is kind of not the best way for me to confess my feelings like a stupid teenage boy, but you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“What do you even like about me?”

“Despite being annoying, and a brat with no ass, and absolutely fucking stupid--”

“I don’t even think you like me, you bitch, stop insulting me.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, not even when we first met, I could only think about that dumb brat who managed to find trouble in an alleyway just begging to be kidnapped. To be honest. This was how Jimin found his girlfriend… he took on her case when she’d finally woken up from a coma… they didn’t necessarily like each other at first but he’s crazy about her. And I thought, fuck, this couldn’t be happening to me. This is a case, keep it professional. But then my dumbass offered you my shirt that night. You cooked for us. You’re so incredibly stubborn and hardworking, just for your sister and father, its admirable, I would go through the same for Jimin if I were in the same situation to be honest. When that bastard got to you before we could, I was scared. So fucking scared. He touched you, and I wanted to shoot him dead.”

He composes himself, emotions gone out of control just remembering the fear that built up inside him at the realization that you were gone and in the hands of the man who ordered your father’s death. Even Jimin had been surprised to see Yoongi directing more emotion than usual, especially when it didn’t have to do with his girlfriend. 

“Tell me it’s the same for you,” he whispers softly, so soft, you’re not sure he spoke. But he’s slightly embarrassed at his own courageousness and cheesiness. 

Your words fail you. Taking his hand on top of your head in your own hands, his heart jumps in his throat, were you going to reject him? After he finally stripped himself of his usually cold demeanor and calm facade? He was basically pouring his guts out in front of you, almost desperate to keep you with him when you’re the only girl, other than Jimin’s girlfriend, he’s expressed more than grimaces and frowns at. His heart pounds, like he’s fucking dying, palms clammy. He wanted to deny that he was ever attracted to a brat like you, but everything felt too domestic and he found himself caught in the snare of your fiery determination to work hard for your father and sister. 

He’d always thought that maybe he’d settle with a girl just as quiet as he was, collected, feminine, the type that he’d let dote on him and take care of him. But as you press a kiss to his cheek, the skin flaring with heat, he’s floored. 

“I might like you too…”

Safe to say that the boys won’t let Yoongi hear the end of it when he casually mentions that he and Hoseok found a new apartment with three rooms. He doesn’t even imply or mention your name and they’re hooting and hollering, Namjoon coming out of his office to join in on the fun to his exasperation. 

Please I needed this bonus ending:

You’re helping Hyemi organize her room, opening up the cardboard boxes with her things from your old apartment. Folding clothes and putting them into her dresser, you hum in response as she talks about the recent drama at school. You had sucked it up and thank her mother for taking care of her, stiffly smiling when she reminded you that she cared for you no matter what. It was just not an option at the moment to be able to forget how she abandoned you three. But you were still grateful that she took care of Hyemi for the past month, even with two kids of her own and new husband. 

“Mind if I steal her for a second Hyemi?”

A chirp comes from your sister in response and you barely have to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend. She shoos you when you make a face at her, giggling behind her hand as you cast scowls at her while Yoongi leads you towards your shared room. 

Despite only sleeping together once, on the couch at that, you could never get over the idea of jumping head first into a relationship and sleeping in close quarters immediately. Although, Yoongi had politely offered that he slept on the couch until you felt comfortable enough to sleep together. You were grateful for that, although he didn’t waste a second to tease you about being a middle school brat who couldn’t handle sleeping with a man, because hormones. In which you promptly dragged him to the bed to sleep together for the first time, although you could barely sleep a wink when he was just right there, breathing and existing. 

“Idiot, go to sleep, I can hear you overthinking,” He had whispered towards your back, voice raspier than usual and you just want to slam the pillow over your face and kindly die. It’s safe to say that he silently splayed his hand cautiously over your stomach, dragging you backwards until he’s flush behind you. Yoongi had waited until you protested or even moved away, but you relaxed against him, listening to your hearts beat in tandem and enjoying the way his thumb circling over your stomach soothingly. 

Hoseok finds you two the next morning and made it his mission to take a picture and send it to the other guys. A fact that Yoongi beats him up for.

Getting the new place, Yoongi had teased you endlessly about being fine with bunk beds since you were still a brat and could not handle your hormones around him. To which you punched him and demanded that one bed was fine, unless he couldn’t stand sleeping beside you without popping a hard one. 

Your room is for the most part put together, some boxes of miscellaneous items still yet to be put away. 

“What did you need?” You ask, not even realizing why he even needed to steal you from helping your sister.

“Nothing, really…” Arms wrap around your body and he’s pressing himself behind you, engulfing you in his warmth with his face tucked into the side of your neck. You weren’t convinced but he didn’t make any moves to say any more or move from his position.

“Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me say it,” he huffs.

“Yoongi.”

“Fuck off brat.”

He really just wanted to hold you in his arms after helping out Hoseok set up the living room and kitchen, but you’d just have to make him spit it out.

.

*I suddenly want to write one for Hoseok with the way I portrayed his character here... I also thought about just writing spin offs for the rest of the boys too. Minus JK, but then if I did... I do have a idea for him. :’) Just some afterward thoughts.

Just some tidbits of small details I added but weren’t really too important, but I wrote them in thinking they would be lol: 

I had mentioned in Hong Suk’s file that there’s a case found on the mysterious death of his and reader’s mom’s parents. He killed them. It’s not an important fact that I incorporated, but it was an idea to further that he had a sister complex and obsessed over her to the point of killing his parents when he felt threatened.

It was implied, but to make ends meet, Reader’s father dealt the drugs that Suk made - as a part of repaying him and manipulation out of guilt when Suk revealed to Reader’s father of his ties to Reader’s biological mother. It’s a small detail that didn’t have much importance, but I thought I would allude to the lengths the father would go to.

I realized lol that Hyemi wasn’t present for the rest of story, her role was only meant as the reason why Reader works so hard and keeps her emotions in check for the most part. Made her stay at her mom’s house because. PLOT. LOL I wasn’t just about to have Yoongi only give his clothes to reader and her sister is like tf am I?

I also tried to down play the attraction because they literally just met, but its a romance fic so there is still an attraction between the two and Yoongi just finds himself drawn to wanting to protect her especially when he admires her for being strong despite always getting on her nerves. The same goes for Reader who finds comfort with Yoongi protecting her when she stopped having someone to dote on her and protect her. Obviously I accelerate that by having a small time skip in the end where she still stays with them during the indictment and funeral service, so Yoongi and Reader are around each other for a little longer to develop more feelings. It’s just implied but I couldn’t find any other way to write it in lol...

I didn’t find a good place to mention in the bonus, but Reader will visit her biological mother’s cemetery at the crematorium. I’d like to say this may or may not be the same one that Interference’s MC’s family resides at, but well it’s just an idea. Despite not knowing her, she still pays her respects. Eventually, she comes around when Hyemi’s mother makes it her purpose to call every now and then to check on them. She was trying at the very least, especially for Hyemi, and it still never changed the fact that she grew up with her as her mother and not her own biological one. 

Anyhoot! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think!! 

#don't even ask me why i wrote this much i cry #i shit my bowels out of me into this story lolol #no beta we die like men today #interference #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts scenario #bts imagine #suga x you #suga x reader #suga scenarios #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #kpop fanfic #bts au

[unclefungusthegoat]

Where The Light Fractured, I Found Home

Thought I’d share my little contribution to the Far Cry 5/New Dawn fanzine too! Wanted to write about my fave girl Carmina, and instead of rolling with my usual angsty stuff, was suddenly inspired to write a cosy fic about her knitting with Nana! A huge thank you to @celiansartblog​ for your seriously gorgeous artwork, and for being an amazing partner, it’s been a true pleasure working with you! And also, thank you to everyone for getting on board with this little project, I am so freaking proud of everyone <3

My fic can be read under the cut, or here on AO3

The fanzine can be downloaded for free HERE

Title: Where The Light Fractured, I Found Home

Warnings: None

Summary: Carmina wasn't sure that she needed a new hobby. What she was sure of, is that it takes a special kind of friendship for a rainbow to fall from the sky. Carmina and Nana family fluff.

“Girlie, you need t’get yourself a hobby that don’t involve somethin’ dead at the end of it!”

That was rich coming from a gun-toting septuagenarian who could sneeze mid-shot and still snipe a guy’s ear clean off.

“I have hobbies, Nana!” Carmina had laughed back at her.

“Not like this, you don’t!”

Now, sitting with their legs dangling out of the Perch, Carmina and Nana relaxed in the bright, sun-warmed afternoon glow. A mountain of rainbow yarn sat upon their laps, tinged violet by the somehow still flashing Spread Eagle sign.

Fire truck red and saffron yellow, was knotted and twirled between hydrangea blue, woven and twisted amongst rainforest green and a purple not quite the colour of yams, not quite the colour of eggplant. Heaped like psychedelic Himalayas, snikt and persnikt between two sets of needles. The fibres were near weightless, clouds beneath their fingertips, almost unlike anything Carmina had felt before. In fact, it was a stark reminder of how razor sharp the world around her was. Rusted and wind-beaten. Unstitched.

Between them, slowly winding its way to the ground, was the fruits of their labour.

A scarf.

So kaleidoscopic, it appeared the sunlight had fractured without any rain.

Despite her skepticism, (and her, admittedly, half-hearted attempts to confine herself to the garage instead) Carmina had found an unexpected gratification in the art of knitting. An intrinsic sense of joy in holding something that, usually, she’d impale right through an eye socket, only this time to find it be cushioned, caressed by soft wool. She’d diligently practised all the stitches in the book. Garter and stockinette, fisherman’s rib and the basket stitch.

Her sulking had waned even further when the two of them, some 60 years apart in age but soon thick as thieves, had snorted at, mocked and downright abused the unfortunately named ‘Seed’ stitch. And the week where they’d set to working on the waffle stitch, had been laden with misshapen homemade waffles. Buttery and rich. Laced with lashings of oozing maple syrup from a bottle Carmina had found in the rubble of a diner once named ‘Aubrey’s’.

“You know, Nana,” Carmina purled a final violet stitch, and passed it to her companion to begin another row, “I’m really grateful you talked me into this.”

“Don’t you be worryin’ about it, girlie. Keepin’ this kooky ol’ gunslinger company.”

Truth is, Nana, I was lonely too. More than I’d ever admit, even to Mom and Dad. How can the world feel so echoey and vast, when everywhere I look, there’s people I love?

I suppose she saw right through me.

Having no memories must be the loneliest feeling in the world.

“Even gunslingers need friends. Butch Cassidy had the Sundance Kid, right?”

“Right y’are!”

Snikt and persnikt again, as the two worked in comfortable silence. Sometimes they gossiped, letting their laughter fill the valley and join with the birdsong and distant gunfire. But most days, it was just the pleasure of each other’s company. Two friends, passing a lazy afternoon in rare stillness and peace.

“Another stack of pancakes says we’re gonna finish this today.”

“Hoo-hoo, wager not taken, buster! I see whatcha doin’, and I never take a wager I can’t win!”

They giggled, in full certainty that there’d be sweet treats anyway.

“What do you think we should make next?”

Nana gazed at her sternly through jam-jar lenses. Carmina had never known any of her grandparents, but she imagined that this is how they would have stared her down had she misbehaved.

“You gotta noggin’ full o’ yarn if you think I’m gonna answer that, missie! You gotta brain, start usin’ it!”

A flurry of thoughts, snowfall in summer. Mittens, striped like candy, a gift from Santa for the little ones. A blanket for Blade Drubman’s crib - he’s been having trouble sleeping, the gears of the world grinding, deafening, around him. Pouches for screws and bolts, pockets for wrenches and screwdrivers. Or something for Dad to put in the plane… a Maneki-neko to sit on the dashboard for good fortune?

“How about knitting my co-pilot a good luck charm?”

Murmured agreements, and they once again settled back into their silence. It wasn’t long before their work neared its end, as the yarn ran low. Threads of life, weaving into the fabric of the world. Not gone… just renewed.

“Makes a change to the o’l heart, doesnit? Buildin’ something, ‘stead of tearin’ the whole world down. One day, missie, y’gonna be incharga buildin’ this valley up again,” Nana’s steady hands, sculpted by bloodshed, by love and by time, bound-off the final stitch. And carefully, she gathered up the scarf from where it dangled down between them. “I reckon you oughta be lookin’ real swish when y’do it!”

She held it out in offering.

Teenage eyes so earnest, and bright with a humble soul widened in disbelief.

“For me?”

“You earned it, kiddo!”

As though she were cradling a newborn babe, Carmina took hold of her gift, letting it rest gently in her arms. And she whispered a silent thank you. In the hush of the valley, she could almost hear it carry on the breeze, cast out to all the lucky stars across the cosmos, honouring the sky and it’s kindness, for it had given her so many gifts. The cloudless vista under which she sat, each day anew with promise and life. The rainbow had shed a skin for her, one that she held close to her now.

And the sunshine itself, that shone eternally in her Nana.

“You young’uns gotta build,” The old woman’s voice was far gentler than usual. An uncharacteristic weariness sat nestled between words and breath. Yet… there was hope. “An’ you gotta do a better job than we ever did.”

The child of the new world nodded. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, letting her hair tangle and tuck into its folds. Cosy. Cocooned in the warmth of dedication and patience. Distinctly smelling of home. Each lump and bump beneath her fingers was a tangible shrine to every precious moment they had spent stitching it together.

Feeling it embrace her, Carmina Rye’s eyes teared in the corners, glistening with pride.

And she smiled:

“Seems like we made a good start.”

#far cry new dawn #far cry 5 #far cry fanzine 2020 #carmina rye #nana #and now back to writing icarus and styx and all the angst that entails lmao

[jj-lynn21]

An Unexpected Adventure Ch 3: Nature

Ch 3:Nature 

  Ch 1: Booked   Ch 2: Teatime, Ch 4: Waterfalls

Tags:@rainbowmoosie, @melodys4029​, @loomiz​, @eliza123sworld​, @super-pink-a-palouza​, @bskarsgardlove92​, @dragsraksllib​ ,@0cean-witch​, @grandpa-sweaters​, @katieskrsgard​,  @sugiseto​, @badccaptain​,  @wikiss21​  @skrsgardspam​ @skarsgardsslut​  

Notes: fluff, shock, an ode to no cellphones

Genna tossed and turned all night having nightmares about not making her deadline. Losing every bit of the credibility and trust her first book brought to her career. Losing her friend and publisher to someone that obviously wanted it more than she did. All these thoughts did nothing to help her creativity level. When she woke, she was a void of any ideas what to really focus on in her writing as she had been since she got there. It was time to do something drastic. Just walk away for a while.  

The best way to clear her head was to take Istvan up on his morning walk offer. The fire had burned out over night, but her appreciation for him only burned stronger. She was determined to make up for how she had treated him when they first met. Put all the book writing thoughts in the back of her mind just for a few hours. Being in nature was bound to get ideas flowing once she got back to work. 

Genna put a pot of coffee in a large thermos and a zip lock of crackers in her backpack purse. She dressed in layers since it was cooler now but once the sun was high in the sky the forecaster called for an unusual swing back to the 70s.  She decided on her athletic shoes over her boots because they were more comfortable. The boots she wore there were made for fashion more than hiking.  

She took a deep cleansing breath as she walked out of the cabin. The air was fresh. Genna could smell wildflowers that had not given up their life to the overnight frost yet. She looked around for her guide. Istavan waved with a great big dopey smile on his face. She trotted over to him.

“Good morning, Istvan.”

“Good morning, Genna.” He had a backpack flung over his shoulder. “I’m glad you decided to join me. There is so much beauty here you cannot see from the small windows in the cabin.”

“Show me everything.” Genna adjusted her pack as she walked with him. “I brought coffee and snacks. And my cellphone to take some pictures. I am looking for inspiration.”

“I hope you find what you want.” He helped her up a particularly steep hill. “Just relax and take it all in without sharing with the world for once in your life. It is perfectly fine not to share every experience you have.”

“That is crazy talk.” She giggled joking.  

He smirked.  

Once they arrived at a paved trail it was easier to walk. “At the end of this trail there is a nice clearing to stop for a break. I have a blanket, coffee, water, and baloney sandwiches in my pack.”

“Between us we have quite a feast.” She did her best to keep up with him but two of her steps equaled one of his..

He nodded. “Stop right here.” Istvan put his hand up stopping on the trail. “Listen to what surrounds us.”

“What is it?” She was a little frightened by his tone.

“Shhhh.” He put a finger to his plump kissable lips. “Don’t be scared. Close your eyes.” Istvan walked around behind her. “Relax. Take a breath and just listen to nature.”

His voice gave her chills. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath of the fresh air around her. It smelled nothing like the big city. It felt nothing like the city. There was a light breeze. The sun kissed her face. Some squirrels squealed at each other in the trees. Birds were chirping not quite ready to leave for the south.  She opened her eyes as she grabbed for her cellphone to snap a memory.

He took her wrist lightly. “Don’t do it Genna. Just enjoy our surrounding. Let it just be ours.”

She looked at him like he was insane. “But shouldn’t everyone know the beauty here so they will come, Istvan? I am sure you have posted pictures on your accounts to help your business.”  

“I don’t have any social media accounts.” He admitted. “There is one website that does have professional photos of the cabins and the hiking trail. I like it here because it is free from all that. No one, especial strangers need to like what you are doing for you to enjoy it yourself. Just take it in.” He took a deep exaggerated breath in and let it out. “Stay here with me in this moment. Don’t disappear into technology, Genna.”

“All right.” She slid the phone back into the side of her pack.  

“Now really look at everything you could have missed with a phone in front of your face.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Is this okay?”

She nodded yes.

“The squirrels we hear are right there chasing each other in that tree.” He pointed.

His beard tickled her cheek and she laughed. “Your beard tickles.”

“I’m sorry,.” He stood up straighter. Istvan had not really been close to anyone in months. It had been years since he felt like being as close to someone as he did her.  

“It’s all good.” She smiled and he smiled back. “What other things can you point out that I might not be catching?” She was trying to get fully immersed in the moment as he suggested.  

“Did you hear the rustling in the tall brush over there?” He gets closer again but tries not to let his beard touch her.

“Yes.”  

“I happen to know that a family of bunnies live there.” He gentle rubbed her arms. “If we are still and quiet maybe one will hop over towards the glen or many of them will. The younger ones seem to take chances like that even if I am here.”  

They waited. She leaned into him more, so he held her more securely. She did not giggle again when his beard brushed against her cheek. The bushes started rustling more in several spots. Then a little nose poked out sniffing. A few pairs of long grey ears with pink centers poked up. It was quick when they moved. Three curious baby bunnies made their way across the path right in front of Istvan and Genna.

Genna covered her mouth so she did not squeal in delight while the bunnies crossed. One stopped to look at them for just a split second before running off after its sibling. “They are so precious.”  

“Yeah, come on.” He led her down the trail more. “The clearing is right in the direction they went hopping.”

She stayed close to him. “Are there any dangerous animals around here?”

“Black bear, coyote, and a few different kinds of poisonous snakes in the wetlands.” They came to the clearing and walked a few feet in where Istvan laid out the blanket holding it down with his pack and hers. “I have a kit with anti-venom. Bears and Coyote are mostly afraid of people unless you leave food out at night.”

“I will hold you to that.” She takes her jacket and hoodie off to get more comfortable. The sun has made it warmer. She took out her coffee thermos and crackers.

He took out what he brought and takes off his hoodie also. “Sandwich?”

“Thank you.” She took one. “You can have some of these crackers with your sandwich.”

“Thanks.” He took a few from the baggy. After they ate taking in the nature around them instead of talking, Istvan laid back on the blanket closing his eyes. “It is nice to just listen to nature with eyes closed and your heart open.”

“I guess.” She glanced around at what seemed to be empty space. “Have you always lived like this, Istvan. Grown to be a Mountain man?”

He chuckled as he opened his eyes and held his strong upper body up on his elbows. “I grew up as a spoiled kid in New York City. My Dad was a Soap actor and my Mom a lawyer. We started coming out to the woods to camp when I was around ten. My Father built the family cabin himself. After I graduated high school my gift was building my own cabin.”

“Hard labor does not sound like a gift.” Genna interceded.  

“Yeah, I thought that at the time.” He continued. “It was the last time I really spent any time with him. He and my sister built the cabin you are staying in for her before she went off to college. She worked hard from the beginning as she always did in school. I did what I always did at NYU. I got in some trouble for fighting. Partied so much I can barely remember most of my time there. Still I managed to get passing grades in business school. When my parents got in a car accident driving here from the city in the dead of winter to set up for a family Christmas, they left the cabins to me and my sister.”

“That is …" She put her hand to her heart. “It is just so tragic. I’m sorry you lost them right before the holiday.”

“It was a lot to handle but helped me grow up.” He sighed. “My sister can barely deal with being here. I took over the cabins turning them into a business. That was five years ago. I ended up loving this place after a year. At this point I can’t even imagine going back to living in the city.”

“I do enjoy the silence when I work.” She laid down beside him.  

Istvan put his arm under her head lying back down with his eyes closed. “Now close your eyes, Genna. Take a deep breath and listen.”  

They laid there for a minute just silent and still. “This is maybe the best thing I ever felt.”

He leaned on his side. “Now that is a tragedy.”  

She opened her eyes to his inches away. Her heart seemed to skip at the weight of his stare. Then he glanced above her head before looking at her again.

“On the count of three I need you to get up as quick as possible.” He reached for the machete attached to the side of his pack. “One...”

“What?” And then she heard it. A rattle and hiss.

“Two, three.” Istvan pulled her up with one hand as he cut the head off the striking timber rattlesnake.  

She was in shock as he held up the body of the snake that was half his length. “It's okay now. It’s dead.” After dropping the carcass to the grown he put the machete away. “Are you alright, Genna?”

She nodded yes slowly even though she was still disturbed.  

#nature #walking in the woods #woods #danger #snake #rattle snake #Istvan and Genna #an unexpected fall adventure #writers block #fall #falling #romance #cutness #picnic

[goodwordguru]

One Piece MasterList [2016-2019]

Soul Jars [09-15-2016] With trembling hands, he unscrewed the top and lifted the glass until the soul was within its waxy confines. The jar was almost too small to contain it, but it did, and Marco closed it before clutching it to his chest.

Those Damn Brats! [10-18-2016]

Eye Contact [10-20-2016] Ace must've made some kind of noise because the boy looked up. They both froze as their eyes met and the world exploded in color.

Filling The Void [10-28-2016] Sometime after the events of Dressrosa, after parting with his precious little brother, Sabo has a dream where he's faced with Ace – not the Ace who he'd known as a child, but the Ace who had died without knowing that he still had two brothers.

Closed Doors [10-31-2016] Closed Doors: What's behind the door? Why is it closed?

Harrowing Inferno [11-28-2016] He turned, apprehension and excitement boiling together in his mind and bringing a large grin to his face. "Ace!"

Freedom [12-14-2016] (MarcoAce Week 2016)

Hobbies [12-15-2016] "Your wings are your arms, right? Do they still feel like arms, or do they register as wings in your brain when you're like this?” Cue exasperated eye closing and sigh. (MarcoAce Week 2016)

Laugh [12-16-2016] Marco laughed then; it was soft, unlike the delighted laugh he'd shared with the others, but it held an affection for Ace that he hadn't received since he left Luffy. (MarcoAce Week 2016)

Heroic/Cowardly [12-17-2016] After breakfast and chores were done and over with, Usopp gathered the crew to tell a tale of the brave Captain Usopp's grand dream. (Usopp Week 2016)

First Impressions/Beginnings [03-21-2017] Ace was all alone out there on Mount Corvo, and seemed to have been alone for a long time, and Sabo was all alone, despite being surrounded by people back in Grey Terminal. Ace had to be feeling just as lonely as him, even if he refused to show it. So he wouldn't give up. He would be the best soulmate ever! Ace would never have to feel alone again. "Hey! Ace!" he shouted, charging up the mountain in the direction the brunet had gone. "Wait up!" (SaboAce Week 2017)

Idiot/Genius [03-22-2017] “Are you a complete idiot?” (SaboAce Week 2017)

Sailing/Adventure [03-23-2017] Sabo was recovered by the Revolutionaries, like in canon, but he was not permitted to join the Revolutionaries because Dragon did not want to drag a child into such a war against the world/World Government (Koala hasn't joined at this point; she joined after Sabo did in canon). However, Dragon agreed to drop Sabo off at Loguetown so he was as far from Dawn Island as possible without going into the Grandline. At the age of 18, Sabo decided to set sail for the Grandline to have an adventure. (SaboAce Week 2017)

Scars/Tattoos [03-23-2017] Life was going pretty good, considering the hassle it took for Ace to pass High School in the final stretch.  But in Ace's experience, when things began going too well, something bad was bound to happen. (SaboAce Week 2017)

Blush/Innocent [03-25-2017] “Hey, Ace? Where do babies come from?” (SaboAce Week 2017)

Regret/Hallucination [03-26-2017] "Happy birthday, Sabo. I hope you're freer in the stars than you were down on earth." (SaboAce Week 2017)

Only Sparks Remain [03-27-2017] “But I still can't believe that crybaby became so strong... Can you, Ace?” (SaboAce Week 2017)

Say Cheese [05-10-2017] Art was Usopp's passion.

Burning Memories [05-17-2017] "Sabo-kun? Are you alright?" "Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a weird dream..."

Silence [05-29-2017] Peace, Law discovered, was not easy to come upon while on-board the Thousand Sunny. (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

Terminal [05-29-2017] He felt like maybe he would be alright with being in a relationship with Luffy as opposed to just a friendship. (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

Recherché [05-30-2019] “I love you, Torao,” he mumbled into Law's dark hair. “Mm... I love you, too, Luffy-ya.” (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

Achromatic [05-31-2017] He didn't know what he was looking for, though, until he saw him. (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

Wish [06-01-2017] Whether it was fighting against a Yonko or dealing with the demons of Law's past that tried to drag him down, down, down, Luffy was there with a smile to make everything better, make everything okay. So why wasn't everything okay right now? (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

The Dreamer [07-14-2017] A lucid dream is a dream during which the dreamer is aware of dreaming. During lucid dreaming, the dreamer may be able to exert some degree of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment. (ZoLu Week 2017)

Sunshine [07-15-2017] The world was infested by cruel and corrupt souls. As far as Zoro knew, it had always been that way. (ZoLu Week 2017)

Eternity [08-12-2017] I’m sorry, Torao... (10 Days of LawLu 2k17)

Family & Relation(ships) [01-11-2018] Family, friends, nakama and more, a lot of people love Usopp and he loves them, too. (Usopp Week 2016)

Dreams / Ambitions [01-11-2018] "You are going to bounce back from any fight we get into, whether we win or we lose, and I'm not going to doubt myself, right?" (SanLu Week 2016)

Die Traumdeutung [02-06-2018] He found that staying up for most of the night usually left him falling asleep in time to witness more pleasant dreams. His favorite, which showed up the rarest out of all the dreams, was when he found himself submerged in the ocean, surrounded by fish he used to catch in his own village and fish he was skeptical about the existence of but couldn't deny looked amazing (and appetizing).

Dragonheart [02-14-2018] Dark blue scales, tinted maroon from his blood, had pushed their way out of his skin like thorns from a rose stem. Taking a bath in the middle of the night to rid himself of the blood and throwing away the ruined shirt, Sabo spent the rest of the night pursuing answers on his laptop, finding that the appearance of scales was just stage one of a fledgling dragon's shift to adulthood. Sabo felt ill to his stomach.

Rekindled [02-14-2018] WIP He had died saving Luffy, and now he was alive.

5 Times Trafalgar Law Found Himself Involved In Sentimental Situations (And 1 Time When Words Weren't Involved) [03-04-2018] Law wasn't a sentimental person. In fact, he was best known for his cold and almost sadistically cruel personality. While most information about the North Blue captain were just rumors, he never did anything to prove the public wrong. Not where they could see, anyway.

Hugs/Cuddles [03-21-2018] “Okay, I think I'm finished,” the blond finally said. “You think?” Ace repeated, looking vaguely unimpressed as he took a long drag of his cigarette. Sabo ignored him as he dropped the empty spray-paint can into his bag, where seven more equally empty cans rested. The graffiti took him about an hour to create, and it was a pain to hold an illusion over the alley the whole time, but now that he was done, he could trigger the spell and they could finally sleep. (SaboAce Week 2018)

Then/Now [03-22-2018] Sabo never lost his memories and he didn't go with the Revolutionaries. Instead, he returned to his brothers. (SaboAce Week 2018)

Love At First Sight [03-28-2018] “I see you made it,” he said with a small laugh. He extended a hand and Ace shook it, made speechless by how soft it was. (Kidd was smirking at him out of the corner of his eye.) “I'm Outlook Sabo.” “Portgas D. Ace.” (SaboAce Week 2018)

Laughter [05-29-2018] He could hear Luffy snoring behind him, the lanky man's arm and leg thrown lazily over Law's waist. The doctor basked in the warmth of the quasi-embrace before tossing away the stray limbs and sitting up. (10 Days of LawLu 2k18)

Back to Back + Healing/Injured [05-31-2018] “Ow. Ow! Oooooow!” Law really wanted to punch Luffy, but unfortunately, he was wrist-deep in the other's chest cavity. (10 Days of LawLu 2k18)

Love [02-17-2019] “Bonney, it is ass crack o'clock,” Ace all but growled when he answered his phone at five-something in the morning. “What-” “Who even says that?” Bonney interrupted with an ugly snort, sounding much too awake. That didn't bode well for Ace.

Looking For Yourself [06-06-2019] Trafalgar D. Water Law disliked kids, whether they were his age – twelve – or not. He'd just lost his taste for being around anyone after his little sister and parents died and he was placed into the foster system. So when, to his irritation, a little brat who couldn't have been older than six climbed up next to him on a park bench he'd been reading on, he was less than thrilled. Additionally, the pest wouldn't stop running his mouth once he began to speak.

Plans Made (and Ruined?) [06-06-2019] “That's why I'm here,” he said. “What?” Luffy gave him a look as if he was missing something that should've been obvious. “I don't want you to be alone.” “I love being alone,” Law deadpanned, “so you can go now.” Luffy grinned broadly. “Nah. Because then you'd be lonely, and you hate that.” (10 Days of LawLu 2k19)

Clockwork [11-29-2019] Sanji rose with the sun like clockwork.

#one piece #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece masterlist #fanfiction masterlist #I only really listed the fanfics I actually liked

[kolhearted-archived]

( @enforalla ) « liked for a queued starter

                      A DARK BROW furrowed over an ancient tome. The university library’s archive was a well-kept secret: precious few knew that this library acted as a backdoor repository for old, UNCLAIMED grimoires. Families who had died out whose family books bore curses forbidding them from falling into unknown hands were stored in a special room in the library, accessed only with a discreet, murmured word to the RIGHT librarian. 

Kol had been in the room for a few hours; he stopped by whenever he was in town. The University had always had a tie to the occult, though many ( the supernatural included ) often assumed that that connection had faded when cynicism had replaced superstition in society. It had lived on, but with clandestine whispers instead of eccentric cover-ups for the magic truly happening. 

His fingers traced over one of HIS OLD doodles. He remembered the family, and when he had left the few sketches he’d done had been, apparently, bound into the family grimoire for safe keeping. He’d been tracking the moon from their point on the hemisphere, their youngest son performing minor spells at his behest to see how well — or poorly — they performed under certain circumstances. The methodical and moon-besotted Mikaelson had proved and disproved many of his own theories in the months he’d spent with this family. Looking at his own writing, he was transported into the past, just for a moment. 

His eternally-young face had showed up at their home after being pointed in the direction of the village’s MIDWIFE. It didn’t take long for him to see traces of real magic, humble as it may have been, and he’d spent months with them, having needed witches at that longitude to further his studies. Looking at the book now was... bizarre. Absently, he mourned for the briefest heart beat that the family line had died out, but after he meticulously remade his own sketch in his current journal ( others lay stacked in his apartment, book after book his thoughts on magic, on the world around him, on the time he had lost ) so he could leave the library without getting CURSED terribly. 

A small handful of witches had come in and out of the room since he sat in there, but none had gotten close enough to disturb him. The head librarian had allowed him access, after all: even if they got close enough to realize that he was a vampire ( which, he had noticed, so few of the local witches had experience with vampires to realize who or what he was ), they seemed to accept that he would share their space for the time being. 

He looked up after looking at the book for hours. In the room were two others: a particularly-studious witch who seemed to be combining the grimoires with a digital record, and another witch: a man. Kol stared for a moment, feeling a dark pit at how grossly familiar he looked. The man looked like the grown version of his youngest brother, rest his stupid soul. The thought jarred him, remembering with what felt like VIVID DETAIL the night an elder brother and a younger had decided to flout the rules of survival for the chance to be seen as daring. He’d often wondered what Hen would have looked like if he’d grown ( not as many times as he wondered what he would also look like fully grown ), but the thought was as futile as the thought that he would taste magic again. He stared for a moment longer, and eventually, as what happens when one is staring, he met the other’s eyes. 

And Kol’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

#enforalla #timeline tbd #( queue. ) « ɴᴏ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ғᴏʀ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ #me (singing gently) i have no idea what i'm doing #this also got away from me oops

[cakesunflower]

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 8

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Chapter 8

IT SEEMED LIKE a running theme for Aspen to be blindsided whenever she showed up to Calum’s apartment. Sure, the first time had been uneventful, but the second time she had the pleasure of walking in on the aftermath of one of his hook ups—which, much to her chagrin, was seared into her mind without consent. Aspen expertly ignored the stinging sensation she felt whenever she thought of the fact that Calum slept with some other woman, especially when she knew he most definitely had been with multiple women over the years they’ve broke up, and especially when she also knew it was none of her damn business.

Whatever.

The third time, which was now, that she came by Calum’s apartment, Aspen found herself freezing once more upon entering the living room because she had most definitely not been expecting three familiar people to rise up from the couch as she walked in. Not for the first time did Aspen mentally find herself cursing Calum, this time for not warning her that his three best friends were currently over.

Aspen knew that they were in the city, knew Calum had introduced them to Luna. She’d been annoyed at first, but knew that it would happen eventually, so she didn’t make a big deal out of it. Ashton, Michael and Luke were Calum’s closest friends and she knew it was a matter of time until he introduced Luna to them. It only made her bristle because the more people Luna came to know from Calum’s life, the louder the realization in Aspen’s mind was that this was permanent.

She was used to Calum being back in her life, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for the others that came back with him.

“I’ll go get Luna,” Calum said, walking out of the living room and down the hall, and Aspen burned holes in his back because was he seriously about to leave her with his friends?

Then again, if Aspen could handle Calum, she figured she could handle the other three.

“Long time no see.” It was Luke who broke the heavily tense and awkward silence, drawing Aspen’s gaze back to him. He’d gotten taller, it seemed, and his hair was a lot longer and curlier than she remembered. It suited him.

“Yeah,” she nodded in response, a bit unnerved at their gazes. Clearing her throat lightly, Aspen awkwardly added, “How, uh, have you guys been?” God, this was painfully strange.

Aspen remembered a time where she would laugh and have fun and get drunk with these guys. Now the conversation had barely begun and already it felt like pulling teeth.

“Good,” Michael nodded with a thin smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jackets. He’d taken to wearing glasses. “You?”

She swallowed down nothing in particular, tugging at the lapels of her jacket. “I’m good, yeah. Good.”

“Yeah?” Aspen’s gaze shifted over to Ashton, taken aback at how much hostility he held in just one word, frowning when she saw the challenging look on his face. “Being in hiding has been good for you, huh?”

Heart slamming against her rib cage, Aspen crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep the incredulity and hurt off her face as she pursed her lips. She already had to deal with Calum’s comments about her disappearance, she didn’t need it from his friends, too. Aspen wasn’t going to fall victim to their glares and remarks. So she jutted her chin, trying to appear as nonchalant and defiant as she could as she quipped, “Something like that.”

Clearly Ashton didn’t appreciate her near sarcasm, eyes narrowing as he took a few steps forward. Aspen stood her ground, her fiery gaze never leaving his as Michael and Luke watched along warily. “How the fuck could you do that to him? Just run away and hide his kid from him? It’s fucking despicable.”

A sharp, heavy breath escaped Aspen, green eyes widening because who the fuck did he think he was, talking to her like that? Ashton didn’t know the truth, none of them did, but that didn’t give them the excuse of talking to her like she was some sort of scum. Aspen was painfully aware that she hurt Calum, felt the guilt of it eat her up inside for the past number of years only for it to revive when she laid eyes on him again. But did none of them think to consider that she was hurt, too? That running away from the man she loved tore her heart out?

She could tell them, but there was always a chance they’d still find fault in her for that. And it couldn’t count on the truth to protect her, then what else was Aspen to do?

“Ash, dude, relax,” Luke cut in, grabbing his friend’s elbow to tug him back.

Aspen’s teeth grinded together, nails digging into her arms through the material of her jacket. “This has nothing to do with you, okay?” she damn near spat, eyes still on Ashton. “It’s between me and Calum, so stay out of it, Ashton.”

Ashton scoffed, looking nothing like the kind, welcoming guy she used to know. The Ashton she had been friends with was warm and inviting, always friendly; the man in front of her looked at her through a gaze of nothing but contempt and distaste. It was nerve wracking, but Aspen didn’t let it show. “Nothing to do with me?” Ashton leaned towards her, despite Luke’s grip. “You’re not the one who had to pick up the pieces you shattered by leaving. That was me. That was us.”

A bitter taste conjured on Aspen’s tongue at Ashton’s words, trying not to picture the devastation she may have left behind when she left. It was something that often kept her up at night over the years, stemmed from guilt and longing and everything in between.

“Everything okay in here?”

Calum’s voice interrupted the scene and Ashton pulled back, Aspen taking a step away as well as she blinked and  forced a smile at the sight of Luna, who was already bounding her way over. “Hi, baby,” Aspen breathed, crouching down to be at eye level with her. “Ready for the party?”

It was Richie’s daughter, Mariam’s, birthday and Aspen and Luna were to meet up with them on Coney Island. Mariam’s birthday fell on Sunday so instead of spaghetti Sunday, Aspen and Luna were spending it with her brother’s family. As much as he wanted to spend more time with Luna, Calum didn’t object, deciding to focus on some business for once.

“Yeah,” Luna grinned before turning around to go over to Calum, who bent down to return the hug she was offering. “Bye, Daddy!”

Calum kissed her temple. “Bye, bug.”

Aspen stood by somewhat awkwardly as Luna then gave hugs to the other boys as well, who instantly softened at the sweet four year old. Her gaze flickered to Calum, who was smiling fondly at the sight of his friends hugging his daughter, and Aspen briefly wondered if Ashton shared his feelings about her to Calum. Then she refrained a scoff; of course he most likely had. Question was, did Calum feel the same?

When Luna finished with her goodbyes, Aspen couldn’t have dragged her out of there faster if she tried.

                                                             *****

“Trick or treat!”

Aspen smiled from where she stood at the end of the driveway, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the woman at the doorway drop heaps of candy into all the kids’ buckets. She’d lost count of how many houses they’ve hit, but Luna’s bucket was getting more and more candy and her costume was getting all sorts of compliments, and it brought a smile to Aspen’s face each time.

Her little girl was dressed as her favorite Disney character—Moana, of course—and Aspen had spent weeks on her costume, making sure to get it exactly as shown in the movie. Plus, it helped Luna had her own thick curls, and her daughter looked like a real life replica of the character. Of course, Aspen took dozens upon dozens of pictures, her heart soaring at the sight of her. Luna looked too cute for words.

The same could be said for the man next to her. Technically, Calum was supposed to be at his club for the Halloween rager that was currently going on, but this was so much better. As soon as he had arrived to Aspen’s apartment and his gaze landed on Luna, Calum felt that familiar lightness in his chest at the sight of his daughter, who looked all kinds of precious adorability in her costume. He had to hand it to Aspen, she’d done a great job, and Luna loved how she looked. Just like Aspen, Calum took dozens of pictures of and with Luna, making sure to send them to the group chat he had with the boys who, even though they were at his club, all responded with intense fondness.

It had been a few weeks since they met her, and already the boys were unsurprisingly taken with Luna. To Calum’s surprise, Aspen wasn’t all too pissed that they met her. There had been some palpable tension between her and Ashton, Calum knew, but he didn’t comment on it. He still hadn’t figured out the exact standing of his feelings towards his ex, he didn’t even want to think about where his friends stood with her. If he couldn’t understand himself, how was he expected to understand the others?

“Couple of more houses and then we gotta get going, okay?” Aspen said to Luna once the little one returned.

They finished soon enough, with Calum and Aspen silently trailing after Luna as she went from door to door, with Calum eventually having to carry her plastic pumpkin bucket because the amount of candy weighing it down was too much for her to hold. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too awkward between them; it was silent, sure, but comments weren’t made and looks weren’t exchanged. It was strange but not tense.

Eventually, they returned to Aspen’s apartment, where they caught sight of Richie waiting in front of the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Aspen apologized as she dug her keys out, missing the confused frown on Calum’s faces at the presence of the other man. “I’ll get Luna’s stuff together real quick.”

Calum’s frown deepened, unsure of what was going on, as he followed them into the apartment. Luna was supposed to be going home with him, seeing as it was Friday and it was Saturday and it was his day with her. The only reason he brought her back early this morning was because it was Halloween and Aspen had her costume, and going trick or treating in this neighborhood was a lot easier, and probably safer, than in the city.

As Luna showed Richie all the chocolate and candy she got, Calum followed Aspen to Luna’s bedroom, jaw clenched as he watched her put together Luna’s overnight bag. “She’s supposed to be with me tonight,” Calum announced with an irritated frown.

Aspen didn’t spare him a glance as she pulled out Luna’s pajamas from the drawer, walking over to the bed where the small duffel bag was to put them in. “Not tonight. I told you; she has sleepovers at Richie’s on Halloween night.”

Calum scoffed, eyes following Aspen as she moved to the closet to pull out some clothes. “The fuck you did.” He ignored the scowl Aspen threw at him over her shoulder because he didn’t care. Aspen told him no such thing about some sleepover. “You can’t just hijack my night with her.” They had an agreement, assigned days of who gets Luna when, and Aspen was completely disregarding it.

Honestly, he was pissed. His anger, definitely, was stemming from weeks—years, really—of lingering irritation and aggravation and truthfully, tonight seemed like the night he was about to blow. And Calum had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to control it.

Aspen snorted, oblivious to the anger simmering in Calum’s blood as she packed the rest of Luna’s things, whatever she may need for a night away. “No one’s hijacking anything,” she said with a roll of her eyes, brushing past him to exit the room. Then, she huffed reluctantly. “You can have Tuesday night. I’ve got a late shift and that way I won’t have to call the sitter.”

Calum’s jaw clenched as she walked away. She was stupid if she thought this was just over. He followed behind her, watching as she handed Richie the bag. “You don’t wanna change before you go?” Aspen asked Luna, who was still decked out in her costume.

When Luna shook her head, wanting to still be Moana for a few more hours, Aspen chuckled before giving her daughter a goodbye hug. Luna then went over to Calum, hugging him as well before leaving with Richie, leaving her parents alone in the living room.

And then Aspen was blindsided. Again.

“I’m sick and tired of you refusing to tell me things.” Aspen blinked, eyes widening and feeling a shiver run down her spine at the sound of Calum’s voice—low, guttural and a tense rasp. She turned around to face him, eyebrows rising at his set jaw and hard eyes; nothing she wasn’t used to, but slightly unsure what she’d done to provoke it at this moment. “The fuck happened to this whole co-parentin’ thing, huh?” Calum demanded, taking a few steps towards her. “Aren’t you supposed to let me in on any change of plans?”

For all her grace and confidence, it wasn’t a surprise Aspen could feel some of it slipping right now. It always seemed to, when it came to Calum.

“I don’t—I didn’t think it was a big deal.” She hated that she stammered, her eyes widening slightly in surprise at his harsh demeanor. Aspen wasn’t afraid of him—no, never—she was just bewildered at the fierce anger his dark eyes were swimming in. Specifically, she was completely confused as to why it was coming to the surface now. “She always sleeps over Richie’s on Halloween. It just—it slipped my mind to tell you.”

Apparently she wasn’t making things any better for herself.

“You didn’t think it was a big deal?” Calum repeated with a degrading scoff, lips curling up into a sneer. Aspen eyed him warily, heart pounding; she’d never seen this look on his face, never was on the receiving end of an expression from Calum that so loudly spoke of his vexation and contempt of her. The hostile looks hadn’t stopped, but they’d never been of this caliber. Never this fiery. He tilted his head to the side, regarding her distastefully. “Just like you didn’t think it was a big deal to tell me you were pregnant? That you were having my child? Didn’t think it was important for the father of your child to know something like that?”

Eyes wide, Aspen couldn’t feel anything other than incredulity at the man in front of her, who spat out his words in a thick accent and guttural growl with every step he took towards her, to the point where Aspen’s back was now against the wall next to the front door. Shit, she’d never seen him this mad; never to the point where the veins on his necks were prominent and the muscle in his jaw jumped so consistently, where his narrowed eyes were completely black in anger and nostrils flared in irritation.

More than that, Aspen’s mind was processing the words he was spewing, realizing that maybe Calum finally had enough. Maybe not knowing was finally pushing him over the edge.

She wasn’t surprised. It’d been nearly, what? Two months since they reunited? He held out a lot longer than she expected.

But this look in his eyes; angry, fired up, hungry—that, she hadn’t been completely anticipating.

Call Aspen crazy, but she could feel the electricity buzzing between their gazes, between their bodies, suddenly realizing just how close they were. Her back against the wall, Calum’s domineering height towering over her, broad shoulders obstructing her view of anything beyond him. This wasn’t the time—God knows this wasn’t the time—but their sudden proximity, the sharing of their heavy breaths, the earthy scent Calum seemed to carry invading her nose, and the near primal look on his face had Aspen’s body tightening in a way that was not at all anywhere near nerves or anger or anything of the sort.

In a way that she hadn’t felt, especially towards Calum, in years.

It was startling and confusing  so fucking thrilling all at once.

Lifting her chin slightly, Aspen spoke in a voice too much of a whisper for her liking, “I had my reasons.”

Calum leaned closer, to the point where Aspen was sure she could feel the ends of his curls brushing across her forehead, hard gazes never leaving each other. He was invading her personal space and her senses, and Aspen could feel her knees weakening at the realization that she didn’t mind. There was a time where this kind of closeness with Calum heightened her desire of wanting to press her body against it and now, years later, her throat dried at the comprehension that those desires never fucking left.

His right hand came up, ring clad fingers pressing against the wall next to her head, roughly responding, “There’s no fuckin’ reason good enough for you to keep Luna from me.” Aspen pressed her lips together, acutely aware of Calum’s gaze dropping to her mouth, her lips parting in a sharp inhale when his hips suddenly pressed against hers, the unexpected pressure sending a quiver down her thighs as her widened gaze met cool, near stoic one. “No fuckin’ reason good enough for you to leave me without warning.”

Aspen swallowed, stomach clenching and heart picking up its pace. “Calum—”

“Fuck you.” She inhaled sharply, noticing the curl of his full lips as he sneered at her, the distance between them still minimal, his hot breath fanning across her lips. His voice was a raspy growl, accent thickening with the harshness of his tone as her chest tightened with the breath she held in. “Fuck you for keepin’ Luna from me.” Calum leaned closer, which is when Aspen felt his left hand gripping her hip. Her heart jumped; he hadn’t touched her, not at all, in so long. God, Aspen could feel his touch searing through the material of her blouse, just like it always used to. “Fuck you for makin’ me miss out on four years of her life.”

With every word he spoke abrasively, his nose brushed ever so slightly along Aspen’s, and she wasn’t even sure if he was aware of that, if he was aware of how close they were. Her throat was dry, breath scratchy, lips pressed together as she listened to him curse at her. Calum’s eyes were dark, but as Aspen peered at them, she saw something else mixed in with the anger. Something she hadn’t seen in his eyes in years.

He pushed away from her suddenly, and Aspen felt a rush of cold air greet her as the distance between them grew, no longer feeling his dominating presence or his searing touch. She couldn’t ignore the loud fact that she missed it.

Calum ran his fingers through his curls, veins popping, messing his hair up as his free hand rubbed down his mouth. He looked at her, a few steps away now, roughly yanking his hand away from his head and pointing an accusatory finger at her. His voice was loud, vexed, as he declared, “Fuck you for leaving me.” He strode  towards her once more, movements quick and purposeful as his boots thudded on the floor. Aspen hadn’t moved from the wall, heart jumping excitedly as he closed the distance between them and growled, “Fuck you for making it so fucking hard to hate you.”

Aspen could hear and feel how shaky her breath was as she breathed through her nose, staring up at Calum with slightly widened eyes, her heart thundering against her ribcage with every word he spoke. She could feel his anger and betrayal; feel it in her heart heavily where the guilt already resided, as well as fear of revealing the truth. Not for the first time since Calum returned, Aspen wondered if the truth truly did set one free.

Her voice was hoarse from her dry throat due to the rage radiating off of the man in front of her. “You should,” she breathed, her eyes locked with his, “hate me.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Damn fucking straight.”

Then his mouth was on hers, fierce and hot in a bruising kiss that knocked the air out of Aspen’s lungs. She gasped in surprise and Calum didn’t hesitate in letting his tongue take over hers, feeling his tight grip return to her hips as he pushed her into the wall. Her hands found his shoulders briefly before sliding up into his hair, fingers threading through his curls as she tugged him closer, the feeling of his lips against hers erupting a volcano of flames in the pit of her stomach.

Fuck, it’d been so long since she’d been kissed like this. So long since she’d felt Calum’s lips on hers, and despite this kiss being nothing short of heated and urgent and full of unadulterated rage mixed with lust, it still elicited the same sensations it once had years ago. Her skin still felt like it was on fire, her stomach was still twisting excitedly, her heart was still hammering—it still felt so fucking familiar. So fucking good.

She didn’t want to think; not about what they were doing and what the consequences of this would be. All Aspen could focus on what kissing Calum back, reveling in the way his fingers were roughly digging into her skin, head spinning from their frantic lips and tongues and clashing teeth.

Calum’s hands slid to the front of her jeans, their tongues lost in a frenzied dance as his nimble fingers made quick work of the button of her jeans. “Fuck you for depriving me of this,” Calum’s throaty voice growled against her lips, his teeth biting down on her lower lip, pulling a moan from Aspen that easily hardened him.

The feeling of her fingers in his hair, tightening with every move, had Calum pulling back and burying his face in the crook of her neck, letting out the groan against her skin. He smelt and tasted her familiar coconut scent, the mere fragrance of it making his dick twitch. Her fingers still in his hair, Calum heard Aspen moan out, “You’re not the only victim here.”

He bit down on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, well aware that it was a place that made her toes curl, only confirmed when Aspen gasped and tugged almost painfully at Calum’s hair. It wasn’t lost on Calum how familiar her body felt. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunted and, without warning or prelude, pulled her underwear to the side and slid a finger inside her already soaked entrance.

Calum smirked when Aspen let out a pleasurable mewl, spurring him on to enter a second finger and working her open. “Fuck,” Aspen hissed, right hand in his curls and left hand gripping his leather clad bicep. Calum dragged his lips up her neck, down her jaw before meeting her lips once more, keeping a steady rhythm of his fingers in her, utterly lost in how good this felt, how familiar being pressed up against her was and how he could’ve possibly gone years without this. Without her.

It was that realization that reignited the flame of anger in Calum, mixed with the feeling of Aspen clenching around him, and Calum pulled his fingers out right before she could reach her finish. Aspen instantly pulled away from the kiss with a dissatisfied grunt, head against the wall as she opened her eyes, hooded and hazy and a darker shade of the emerald green Calum was—is?—in love with. “What the fuck, Ca—”

He contained his breathing, didn’t want to show he felt just as breathless as she did, didn’t want to show this was affecting him just as much as it was her. “Isn’t fun bein’ left high’n’dry, is it?” Aspen let out a sharp breath, eyes narrowing slightly, and Calum smirked ever slightly before his right hand grabbed her jaw, fingers against the line of it, touch not at all gentle, middle and index fingers coated in her pressing against her lips. “Open.”

She didn’t, though her body shuddered at his demand, instead keeping her mouth closed and eyes narrowed in a lust-laden glare, not one to take orders from him, and Calum pursed his lips and pressed his hips to hers, jaw clenching when his hardened cock pressed against her thigh, wanting nothing more than to take her right there. But the harsh pressure of his hips against hers had Aspen gasping slightly and Calum took the opportunity to slide his two fingers into her mouth, watching in wicked satisfaction as he felt her suck and lick them clean, cheeks slightly hallowed, tasting herself, and at this point Calum needed to get rid of his own jeans. Quickly.

Calum made quick work of ridding Aspen of her jeans, tugging them down and letting her step out of them before his hands found her thighs and he effortlessly picked her up, her legs hooking around his hips and lips finding his in yet another impassioned, heated kiss that made them both dizzy with lust and familiarity. Their lips worked together perfectly as Calum led them towards Aspen’s bedroom. He knew it was next to Luna’s, was able to lead them there blindly as he was too busy reveling in the taste of Aspen’s lips and her hands in her hair, and knew from memory of when he walked by her open room where her bed was.

He kicked the door shut, hands digging into the flesh of her thighs and rings gloriously biting into her skin as he reached the bed and, without warning, dropped Aspen onto the mattress. She let out a startled gasp, eyes slightly widened in surprise as she stared up at him, the sight of her kiss swollen lips knotting up Calum’s stomach wonderfully as he pulled his jacket off and let it drop on the ground. His eyes never left Aspen’s, his attention on the woman he’s yearned after for years, ignoring every bit of logic and rational thought in his head as he reached a hand over to his back and pulled off the shirt he wore.

Ignoring the cool sensation of his necklaces against his collarbone and chest, Calum stood at the foot of the bed, expertly barefoot, and swiftly grabbed hold of Aspen’s thighs once more and pulled her towards him like nothing. There was nothing gentle about this, about the way they kissed and grabbed and looked at each other. Everything was urgent, fiery, fierce; a mixture of realizing they were still so familiar with each other while fueled by the rage of not having one another for so long. And as well as, in Calum’s case, not knowing what the fuck he was working out of; rage, lust, discarded love, or a dangerous mixture of all three.

Aspen’s gaze wandered to Calum’s shirtless upper half, feeling her heart jump and throat dry at the sight in front of her. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered; though, this time, with more tattoos and bigger biceps and a V-line at his hips she felt the animalistic desire to mark. His curls were untamed from her fingers and the shirt he’d pulled over his head, full lips appearing more plump from the frantic kisses they exchanged.

How could he have possibly gotten more gorgeous? How could she have forced herself not to notice before?

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” Calum sounded gruffly, hands cupping her jaw to pull her up, making Aspen sit on her knees as his lips came down on hers in a primal sucking kiss. It made Aspen’s toes curls.

“Like what?” she gasped against his mouth, fingers blindly yet expertly working on his belt, sliding it through the loops once the buckle unclicked.

Calum bit down on her lower lip as the belt clattered to the ground and Aspen worked on unbuttoning his jeans. “Like you don’t fuckin’ hate me.”

Aspen pushed his jeans down as her heart jumped into her throat at his words. Why would she ever look at him like that? Truth be told, she had no reason to look at him like that. She tried to ignore the fact that while he did, he wasn’t able to. Her hands slid up the length of his body as Calum clicked away his jeans, a tenth pitched through his black boxers as his lips left scorching, biting kisses down Aspen’s neck. “I don’t hate you,” she gasped breathily in a daze of lust and longing, her nails scraping along his bronze skin as her hands found his hair once more. Calum hoped she left marks. “But if you hate me, that’s okay.” Aspen’s eyes closed, eyebrows drawing together pleasurably when he bit at her sensitive spot, finding the will to push through her cloud of lust and shakily breathe out, “Fuck me like you hate me. What the hell are you waiting for?”

Her words spurred him on, his hands grasping the front of her blouse and pulling it apart, uncaring for the buttons that ripped off and clattered to the floor, the air slapping against Aspen’s skin as Calum pulled the shirt off, her bra following soon after. His movements were quick and purposeful, an effect of the adrenaline pumping in with the raging hot blood in his veins. Calum’s hand slid up her front, hand warm and rings cold against her skin, until he grasped the front of her throat, applying just the right amount of pressure in the right places as he maneuvered them back so Aspen was laying on the bed, him hovering over her, lips begging to be kissed and skin yearning to be touched.

The sight of her below him, his tattooed and ring clad hand around her throat as her dark hair fanned under her and green eyes darkened with want and desire and everything in between had Calum’s heart racing. He’d fucking missed this—missed her like this. He didn’t even try to make sense of the lingering disbelief that this was fucking happening.

And before his rational side won, before he could think about it anymore, Calum accepted the condom Aspen had hastily dug out from the bedside drawer after reaching over for it. There was no—more—foreplay, no teasing or anything of the sort. Their movements were rushed and not without reason, lost in each other when Calum’s lips met hers once more after pulling off his boxers and hissing when his cock was freed.

He sank into her, and both of them wondered if it was just them feeling as though they were home.

                                                             *****

There was a silence upon them, interrupted only by their soft, steadfast breathing. Aspen wasn’t quite sure what to make of the energy in the room, wasn’t sure if it was derived from tension, awkwardness or even bliss or satisfaction. A mixture of all four? Her mind was reeling, thoughts catching up with reality as realization dawned and she understood what the hell had just happened. Surprisingly, regret wasn’t the first thing she felt; it was contentment. Utter acceptance of the pleasure she had just experienced with the man next to her.

It had started off as rough, full of biting lips and tight grips and unforgiving thrusts, but something changed as they neared their end. His hips didn’t slam into hers anymore, instead rolling against hers sensually, rhymically. His grip wasn’t bruisingly hard on her, becoming tender. Aspen had noticed the changes when they occurred, and it sent her heart into more of an overdrive than it already was in. She wasn’t sure what spurred the pace, why he suddenly seemed drained of the rage that was fueling him, but she didn’t question it. Not when it still, continuously, had felt so good. How she went years without being with Calum. . . God, she had no fucking idea.

She wasn’t quite sure what was happening now, either. The silence was enveloping them, but Calum’s hand was playing with hers, brought up by their elbows as his ring clad fingers danced with hers, his hooded gaze on them. He hadn’t said anything, neither of them have, but Aspen’s body was buzzing and her her heart had yet to relax as she watched him lightly play with her fingers. It tightened her throat—he used to do it all the time after they had sex, or even when they used to just lay together on the couch. It was a simple, sweet gesture that always brought Aspen comfort, but in this moment, it was heightening the dread that was building up.

For a moment, she let herself revel in this. In the way Calum was touching her, utterly opposite of how things had been between them since they reunited, and her heart yearned, ached, for more. And for another second, Aspen let herself believe they were just two people basking in the afterglow of a round of desperate, longing sex, but it was so much more than that. It was so much more complicated.

And then Calum’s left hand moved a certain way around hers, and Aspen’s gaze caught sight of the initials tattooed on there. Suddenly reality crashed in and Aspen felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Snatching her hand away from Calum, Aspen didn’t look at his confused, taken aback expression as she hastily got up from the bed, stepping towards her closet as she pulled on a hoodie and a pair of shorts to clothe her naked form. “I need to talk to you,” she finally broke the silence, turning to look at Calum.

He was sitting up now, frowning in puzzlement as the sheets gathered at his hips. Aspen would need him to put on clothes; his smooth, tattooed skin was distracting, making her heart race and stomach lurch. Calum still seemed to be lounging in his post-sex bliss as well, moving leisurely as he picked his shirt and boxers up from the floor and slowly put them on. “About what?” he rasped, and Aspen bit her cheek. He could probably guess what.

Aspen approached the foot of the bed, unable to find it in herself to sit down. Her nerves were suddenly jittery, inaudibly swallowing nothing but air every few seconds as some kind of way to calm herself down. But she couldn’t, not with what she was about to do. “I need to—I need to tell you the truth. About why I left. About—About why I never told you about Luna.”

All of the bliss and haze that had softened Calum’s face was instantly gone upon hearing Aspen’s words, replaced with a hardening settlement of realization and seriousness, broad shoulders straightening under the dark green shirt he wore. “I can’t—” Aspen cut herself off breathlessly with a shake of her head, fingers picking at her nails as she looked at the only man she’s ever fucking loved, whose heart she broke and who she just slept with after nearly five years. “I can’t keep this to myself. Not anymore. You deserve the truth, even though I think it might hurt you more.”

Calum scoffed, standing up from the bed, muscular thighs flexing as he rounded the bed to approach her. With every step he took towards her, Aspen’s heart jumped higher up in her throat. “Don’t think anything can hurt as much as it already has, Aspen.”

She swallowed, eyebrows drawn together helplessly. “I’m not so sure about that,” she whispered, feeling the emotion tighten her throat. God, she could not cry. Aspen wasn’t sure how to tell him any of this, because frankly she was a bit afraid that he wouldn’t believe her, that she was just making something up to take some of the blame off of herself. How could he want to believe it? If anything, Aspen was fully expecting him to be furious, even more so, and was working up the wall to defend herself from his rage. Still playing with her nails, Aspen forced herself to look at Calum’s curious, expectant gaze before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you before. I didn’t—I—I found out I was pregnant before I left. Not. . . Not after.”

Confusion, surprise, hurt and anger all seemed to flash across Calum’s face, all at once, as he leaned away from her once her devastating words settled in his mind. Aspen’s heart was picking up its pace quickly, watching as Calum’s dark eyes widened under furrowed eyebrows, lips she had just kissed parting in disbelief as he failed to find any words that could possibly verbalize what he was feeling, thinking. Aspen hated to know that what she said wasn’t the end of it.

“You. . . You knew?” Calum croaked, accented voice raspy and laden with a kind of hurt that sent a pang through Aspen’s chest as she helplessly watched him look at her with a kind of betrayal she hated to see on his face. He gave a shake of his head, curls bouncing slightly. “Then why—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as the hostility she’d been seeing for the past few months returned his full swing, jumping to his own conclusions as he took a threatening step towards her, deep voice growling, “Did you leave because you didn’t think I’d be a good father? That I didn’t want to be a father?” The ferocity in his voice was heavy, thickening his accent. “How the fuck could you just leave without saying a bloody thing to me?!”

“Because I was fucking ran out of the Goddamn town, Calum!”

Aspen inhaled sharply after emotionally blurting out those words, taking a step away from Calum to put some distance between them, distance he had closed as he neared her with every word he spat out. Her throat was tight, watching as a small fraction of the anger twisting his handsome features melted away into confusion, face scrunching up with a few shakes of his head. “What?”

Aspen licked her lips quickly, keeping her voice steady as she said, “I don’t know how to explain thi—”

Calum snarled. “Fucking try.”

She pursed her lips, not caring for his tone but knowing that, to some extent, it was warranted. She just needed to spit it out, but what she needed to say couldn’t just spat out. “I found out when you went on that camping trip with the boys,” Aspen began with a breath, praying tears didn’t gather in her eyes as she recalled memories from years ago she fruitlessly tried to keep away. “I’d just been leaving the hospital after confirming it and I. . . I ran into your mom at the hospital.”

Calum quirked an eyebrow, not seeming surprised by this. His mother was the head of orthopedics at their local hospital, so it wasn’t abnormal for Aspen to see her there. Aspen swallowed, trying to look at anything but him. “I was by myself and I was terrified because. . . I mean, I was barely into my twenties yet and I was pregnant, and I kept thinking how you were going to react, how many family would. I was scared out of my mind and it showed and your mom saw and pulled me into her office and asked what was going on.”

Calum was full on frowning at this point, unsure of where Aspen was going with this as he stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for her to continue with her story. What the hell did his mum have anything to do with why Aspen left him?

“And I told her. I hadn’t told anyone else, but I told her that I was pregnant and. . . And she comforted me. Told me it would be okay, that everything would work out. And I believed her.” Despite herself, Aspen let out a humorless scoff, looking away from Calum and at nothing in particular as the memory of her and Calum’s mom, Joy, replayed in her head. “When I think about it now, I remember that she never even congratulated me, or said that she was happy.”

When Calum heard the bitter tone in Aspen’s voice, saw the grieved frown on her face, Calum felt his heart slowly coming to a stop. He was smart, intelligent, and the words Aspen was saying and the way she was saying them in. . . Calum felt a tight, uncomfortable knot tie itself in his stomach, suddenly beginning to feel the emptiness that was a prelude to nausea, his shoulders sinking somewhat as his throat dried.

“A few days later, before you got back, she asked me to come over,” Aspen continued, needing to take another breath to steady her voice even though her knees felt like they were going to give out. She frowned slightly as she remembered that day. “I didn’t know what she wanted to talk about, but. . .” Aspen swallowed, forcing her gaze to lock with Calum’s. Her heart was thundering and blood was rushing behind her ears, but Aspen willed herself to drop another bomb that she knew would rattle Calum to his bones. “But I wasn’t expecting her to offer me money to disappear.”

It was like her words had a physical force behind them, because Calum instantly stumbled a few feet back, nearly tripping over his shoes as he stared at Aspen with a look of utter incredulity, disbelief, confusion. His head was spinning as he shook it, like he wanted to get Aspen’s words out of it, feeling a heavy sense of betrayal that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, like it was too much for him to grasp. No. She was lying. Aspen had to be lying.

“No,” Calum voiced throatily, still shaking his head, feeling his curls brush along his shoulders, face paling. “No, you’re lying. Mum would nev—”

“She offered me a million fucking dollars, Calum,” Aspen interrupted, not giving him any room to argue as she looked at him desperately. She knew this would be too much for him to understand, to believe, because to this day even Aspen couldn’t believe that happened. It still shook her, still unnerved her to think this was her reality. To think that someone would want her so badly to leave their son to throw that kind of money as if it were nothing. Calum let out a sharp breath. “She—she knew I’d never get rid of the baby, so she offered me money to leave.” Aspen spoke quickly, words coming out in a rush, wanting every bit of the truth out there before Calum told her enough. The tears were burning in her eyes now, because she never thought this day would come; never thought she’d have to look the father of her child in the eyes and tell him it was his mother’s fault he didn’t get the chance of being a dad.

“She told me you weren’t ready to be a parent, that it wouldn’t be what you wanted.” Aspen let out a breath, her throat dry but she continued, despite the look of utter devastation on Calum’s face that was shattering her heart. “And we—we’d never talked about anything like that. Never talked about a long term future and, God, Calum, I was terrified. Your mom was saying all these things how you wouldn’t be ready, how this wouldn’t be what you wanted, that I—” Her voice broke, feeling a tear slip as she shook her head tearfully. “That I wasn’t fucking good enough. And I. . . I believed her. I took her word for it and—”

“And you took the fuckin’ money and ran,” Calum finished with a snap, his expression still contorted into heartbreak and hurt, but the anger was returning in full swing, just as Aspen had expected. He ran both of his hands through his hair before throwing them out. “You should’ve fucking waited for me. You should’ve listened to what I thought because it had as much to do with me as it did with you!”

He was yelling now, deep voice loud and enough to shake the walls that Aspen knew she’d be getting a complaint from her neighbors, but she didn’t care. She stood her ground, taking in his shouts as they came. There was so much pain and ache in her chest, all derived from what happened to her then and what was happening now. “I was scared, Calum,” she tried to defend, though she knew it wasn’t too strong of an argument. “She made me believe—”

“I don’t give a fuck what she made you believe!” Calum roared, turning away from her as he once again ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at them before dropping his hands and turning to face her again. This anger was so much more intense than what he had been showing earlier, and while Aspen wasn’t afraid of Calum, she was definitely exceedingly anxious of what was unfolding in general. He pointed a ring clad finger at her with fierce accusation. “You should’ve trusted me enough to know that I would’ve wanted to have the baby with you because I fucking loved you with everything I had in me.” He put his arms down, hands slapping to his thighs as he shrugged roughly. “But you just took whatever fucking money you were offered and ran instead of telling me anything.”

There was a sting in Aspen’s nose, the one that always occurred when she cried, as she tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. She didn’t want Calum to yell at her, didn’t want him to be so ruthlessly angry with her, but she knew she deserved it. Knew that she was at fault, no matter what his mother did as well. She had a choice; she could’ve ran with the money or she could’ve stayed and talked to Calum. But Aspen chose the cowards way out; a decision brought by Calum’s mom’s words piling on top of pre-existing doubt that was derived from already being with Calum and knowing there was a stark difference in their worlds.

He had everything he could possibly want. She was a nursing student from a middle class family. Aspen had never been the ideal choice for Calum in his parents—or, at least, his mom’s—eyes.

And with Joy Hood reinforcing the belief that she’d never be good enough for Calum, Aspen broke. So she ran.

“What’d you do with the money, huh?” Calum sneerily demanded, eyes narrowing daringly as he approached her once more, figure domineering and near threatening as he peered down at her with hostile accusation. “Pretty sure you could’ve afforded a bigger apartment with the million dollar check you cashed.”

Aspen’s eyebrows drew together, feeling a stab of pain at his words, remembering all of the times she heard murmurs from people in Calum’s and his family’s circles whispering about her only being with him because of the money. Remembered how she’d cried to Calum about being thought of as a gold digger when the only reason she was with him was because she loved him.

“I didn’t cash the check,” she told him truthfully, hugging herself as his scent engulfed her. Her heart still yearned for him. When Calum scoffed disbelievingly, Aspen insisted, “I didn’t. I—I set up a trust, for Luna. The money’s been sitting in an account for her for when she turns eighteen. She can do whatever she wants with it; go to school, travel, whatever she wants.” Her tone dropped, almost feeble, as her gaze lowered to her folded arms, chest heavy. “Figured I’d use the hush money your mom gave to keep quiet about Luna for her.” She scoffed humorlessly, quietly. “Some kind of karma, I guess.”

“Fucking unreal.” Aspen looked up, catching sight of Calum looking away from her, fingers tangled in his curls at the top of his head. She gazed at his profile, noticing the muscle jumping in his jaw, his pursed lips, and the glassiness in his dark eyes under drawn together eyebrows. There were different emotions fighting across his face, none of them pleasant, understandably. But on Aspen noticed was most prominent—agony. Complete desolation that his own mother—the woman he loved so much, who made him the man he was today and taught him lessons he still applied to his life today—would keep his own child from him. Would deprive him of Luna, the one person he came to love most in the world.    

His heart was in pieces, and the desire to throw up was strong. God, he didn’t want to fucking believe Aspen. Wanted to scream at her for being a liar, for making up the most bullshit fucking excuse that brought him a new sort of pain he didn’t think he was capable of experiencing. Fuck. Calum thought the anguish he felt when he found out about Luna was cruel; this. . . The bomb Aspen just dropped. . . This felt unforgiving on his Goddamn soul. A kind of pain that refused to let him breathe.

Then he moved. In harsh movements and brisk strides, Calum pulled on his clothes and gathered his things, shoving his feet into his shoes before storming out of Aspen’s bedroom. She followed after him quickly, practically having to run to keep up with his long strides, her heart threatening to jump as she caught sight of the way he was tightly clenching his jacket in his fist, the veins in his tense arms popping and his shoulders squared. He walked with a purpose, and the blank look that fell across his face, save for the tight jaw, increased Aspen’s anxiety.

“Where are you going?” she pleaded, ignoring the cold against her mostly bare legs, goosebumps rising on her skin.

Calum reached the door, throwing it open and without turning to look back at her, growled out, “Need to make a fuckin’ phone call.”

Aspen jumped when the door slammed behind him. She took the few remaining steps towards it, hand on the door knob, prepared to open it and follow him because he wasn’t okay. His anger was still buzzing through her apartment, and it wasn’t until Aspen had reached for the door knob that she realized she was shaking.

So she sank to the floor, back against the door, facing the ceiling as she squeezed her eyes shut. She slept with Calum. The truth was finally out. Calum was outraged and heartbroken beyond belief. And Aspen cried.

tags: @crownedbyluke @gotta-try-something-new @rishlo @bitchinbabylon @ghstofcalum @dxmncalum @letsfxckindance @unsexilexi @calumthoodsyonce @grreatgooglymoogly @therainydays4 @sadbreakfast-club @lifeakaharry @codycasperky2 @biggestslutforcalum @complete-trash-101 @kinglyhemmings @hemmomfg @friendly-neighborhood-michelle @cxddlyash @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @nostalgia-luke @captain-what-is-going-on @slimthicccal @bloodytbs @miahelizaaabeth @ghostofhood @elsysoza @writing-in-riverdale @tourettesboi @angelbbycal @bbteamlove @xoforeverx @stfujace @thebodaciouscth @helplesshood @runawaywithme-xo @lietomemyvalentine @emma070900 @cosmixcalum @babygirlcashton @calumamongmen @5sos-stan4lyfe @ihatemyself21 @lipstickstainfading @crystalisinfinite @misskarynie @wrappedaroundcal @wcstethenights @michealcliffturd @akacalciumhood @clum-thomas @poppedpins @dollbitxhes @5saucewho @hearts-to-the-sky @booklove-2 @walkedhomealone @andreabjoerg @qualitylu @softboycal @early-thoughts @5saucefanfic @dher216 @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @babyloniancal @xlov3quotingx @aybbblondie @rexorangecouny @flowerchild8341 @romanticalumhood @kaxseychill @babyloncalm @calistheloml @calumh-excess @egyptiangoldhood @irwinkitten @asht0ns-world @visualm3nte @xhaileyreneex @cal-pal-cuddles @invisiblexcth @soulmatecashton @gettingjillywithit @cliffordcntrl @mermaid-merrick @5secondssofssummer @cals-babylons @mysteriouslycali @sassy-asht0n @hoodcentral @cathartichaoss @inlovehoodx @gigglyirwin @roselukes @thepixiedreambitch @calumhoodless @dancingonanemptywallet @antisocialbandmate @sunnysidesblog @escap0-with-me @rosa-aurum @thewhitestbitch-u-know @rosecoloredash @biwriting @calteahood @2k17muke @theagenderwhocriedwolf @caelumhood @kinglycalum @fucking5sos @ohhmuke @ghostofch @isabella-mae13 @5secsofsomewhere @meangirlsmum @danielaaaa1997 @tupeloohoneyy @yeah-idk-why-not @sublimehood @shower-me-with-roses @hotmessmichael @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @pauliip @jetblackyoungblood 

#calum hood #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum fic #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum hood blurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood fanfiction #5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #5sos smut #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos one shot #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #luke hemmings blurb #ashton irwin smut #michael clifford one shot #luke hemmings imagine #ashton irwin blurbs #michael clifford imagine

[the-truth-will-light-the-sky]

Rainy Days in Insomnia

Young Prince Regis and his crew all cope with the rain differently. So, which one overthinks things and who gets to spend the entire day listening to jazz?

Prince Regis

Contrary to belief, Prince Regis loves the rain.

In fact, he rejoices whenever it pours.

The main reason for this is the fact that he has the excuse to stay in the Citadel.

And when he has nowhere else to go, then he’s got a very good reason to go and visit his father, King Mors.

The prince would engage his father in every conversation possible, or challenge him to a game of chess to which the prince always, always loses.

He doesn’t mind his chess blunders, however. Every moment he can spend with his father, whether he gets a good scolding, a long lecture on chess, politics or even ehem, adult things,  Regis doesn’t mind at all. At least he doesn’t have to attend to his princely duties that would take up so much of his time away from his father.

During rainy days, Regis is very much the only person who is active in the Citadel.

He’d bother Clarus to no end with his talk, or ask Cor Leonis to  spar with him. 

Sometimes, Regis would pitch some of the Crownsguard or Kingsglaive for Cor, amused in the confused expression of the young soldier whenever someone tries to flirt with him.

If no one else is available to be engaged in conversation and other such things, Regis amuses himself with books.

The other thing he ever bothers himself with is music. He can’t play any instruments save for a couple of songs in the guitar, but he listens to his collection of valses, concertos and most of all, songs by the latest Jazz or country singers. 

With the latter, Cid was a huge influence. Not the cowboy kind as the prince is not fond of it even one bit, but the relaxing, home-feel kind of songs.

Expect Regis to drink a hot beverage, especially chai tea whenever the weather gets cold and dreary.

Owns a very expensive foldable black umbrella. He likes keeping it with him if he has no choice but to travel in the rain. He would share it, but of course, not with strangers. 

He’s the one who, if he had the choice, would buy a transparent umbrella. But he’s supposed to be incognito out in the streets so he can’t.

Also, speaking of choices, if the young Prince can be extra lively in the halls, he would. Although, he’s the one who’s bound to be greeting everyone with an extra cheery tone just to lift the mood. 

Sleeping on a cold night is one of Regis’ favourites. He looks forward to it with a smile on his face.

He curls up in his luxurious Lucian duvet, feeling the soft texture of his bedsheets against his skin even as the Fulgurian shows his might in the grey skies.

He likes to spray his room with a light scented perfume to help him ease in to beautiful sleep.

Regis is actually very indulgent of himself in the rain. Expect him to reach for a nice slice of decadent cake and a glass of wine as he’s all cozy in front of the fireplace either in his study or in his father’s solar as the rain pours outside.

A warning or not. Don’t sit beside Regis on the couch, especially on a rainy afternoon.

Because if he falls asleep, he’ll cuddle the next person until he wakes up half an hour later. Everyone learned this the hard way. 

Not even Cid’s excessing cursing of ‘son of a garula’ or ‘wretched bastard’  or ‘gerrofff me or I’ll strangle yer royal throat kid’, Regis won’t budge. And boy, Cid would never stop making everyone wake Regis up. It makes for a good photo op for Weskham, however.

Clarus Amicitia

Clarus is a sleepy man on rainy days.

Nothing lulls him to sleep better than the soft pattering of rain on the roofs and windows.

No one is surprised to see the man nodding off on meetings or curled up in a corner of the solar, a book laid flat on his face, snoring the rainy day away.

No amount of coffee wakes him up.

The only thing that could stop him from falling asleep on a grey day is a sparring match.

So when the rain comes, everybody shuffles away from the young Amicitia’s path.

No one wants to be his sparring partner for the whole day, not even Cor. He’s much too strong for everyone.

Regis made the mistake of accepting his request and ended up looking as a haggard, rain-soaked and ruffled chocobo after that. Never again, said Regis.

In days when Clarus can resist the temptation to sleep in as it rains cats and dogs outside, he’d be found walking around the perimeter of the Citadel several times.

It is during these rare days that Clarus can be engaged in any kind of conversation. He’s a bit of a curt man, but when it rains, he relaxes somewhat, thus making him quite open to socialising with people he works with.

Clarus is the one who can detect if it’s going to rain because of his hobby of watching his environment.

As soon as Clarus predicts the rain coming, Weskham would buy all of his ingredients to stock up for his ‘rainy day comfort food’.

If he’s supposed to be out in the rain, he brings out his huge umbrella. It fits everyone under it.

Clarus likes to sleep in early during rainy nights. He can’t be made to stay up when the feel of his comfy bed beckons him to a wonderful night full of sleep.

Veritas a.k.a. V

She has a love-hate relationship with the rain.

Veritas likes the fact that whenever it rains, everybody stays indoors. It brings everyone together.

A busy Regis becomes very much engaged in every conversation. A sleepy Clarus is lightly snoring on the couch as everybody huddles by the fire. A contemplative Cor puts up the best topic for debate. And Cid, well…Cid brings in the fire in the cracker. Meaning, he’s the one who gets everyone either arguing or laughing in the room, even King Mors.

Veritas is very much inclined to delve into her ‘gentle hobbies’, as Regis likes to call it.

The immortal would curl up in one corner, preferably near the window or the fire and start doing some embroidery work. Sometimes, she’d take a pencil and her notebook and would start to either draw or write. And when she finds a new book, she’d be busy reading it, too.

Just don’t leave her with nothing to do on a rainy day.

Rainy day makes her feel down. She remembers the days she spent with the First King of Lucis and how he held her inside the Citadel for days just so she wouldn’t escape him. She hated those days. And the rain makes her remember such horrible things.

Cid is the one who is able to coax her to get up from her seat and hover over to watch the card game.

She’s highly likely to tell Cor Leonis of what cards Regis has in his hand, to which Regis calls her out on it, daring her to try the game herself. 

She tries it, but fails. All the time. She’s horrible with games.

She’s the target of one such Prince Regis whenever he’s in one of his dancing moods. He’d pull her up from her seat to whirl her about the room as his favorite valse is playing, says he needs to practice for that moment he finds the opportunity to dance with Aulea. She agrees; he can dance, but not without mischief.

She’s not averse to sparring. She’ll spar with Clarus. But only once. 

Her energy’s too low on rainy days.

Except when she has been engaged in some sort of activity the day before, then she’ll be inclined to try and finish it even on a dreary day.

She’s extra sociable in rainy nights. She’ll be happy to answer questions or tell stories. Just don’t ask her about Somnus Lucis Caelum her ex-something. She’d clam up and change the subject all too obviously. 

Veritas likes to drink hot chocolate as she gazes out into the window.

The smell of the rain doesn’t bother her at all.

Cid Sophiar

Rain? What rain?

Cid Sophiar doesn’t care whether it is raining cats and dogs or blazing like a hundred degree oven outside. Nothing stops him from doing whatever it is that he needs to do.

He likes to work on his cars and machines even if the rain is dripping down on his skin, as long as his precious leather jacket stays out of the way.

One is bound to find the mechanic strolling about Insomnia in the rain without his umbrella.

He doesn’t even get sick when he does so.

He likes to feel the rain against his skin, revelling in the way it falls on him.

When it rains and Cid is with his friends, expect a whole tirade of stories.

Cid likes to tell stories whenever the rain pours down. Everyone is there with him escaping the rain, so he has all the reason to be sociable, right?

He almost always tells the exact same stories that whenever he has the dialogues coming up, either Regis or Weskham would mouth the words quietly while doing the exact same gestures as Cid does when he blurts out the lines.

When he has the chance, he’d blast up the volume of his radio as it plays his favourite songs.

Regis curls in the sofa of Cid’s house, pulling the pillows over his head, groaning in contempt.

However Regis might hate Cid’s rainy day playlist of swamp music, the prince is delighted to partake in Cid’s delicious comfort food: tacos.

Everybody loves Cid’s comfort food for rainy days. Veritas especially loves the chili, to which she is the direct competitor to the limited stock of it against Cor Leonis.

But when the night comes and it is still raining, Cid Sophiar becomes quiet.

He likes to look out the window, watching the rain against the glass, the bokeh effect of lights beautiful in his eyes.

He stares a lot at his hands, too, wondering just how his life is going by in front of his eyes. He can be very mellow in rainy nights.

But when the morning comes, he forgets everything.

And he’s Cid Sophiar all over again. All fire and energy, as usual.

Cor Leonis

The sulkiest boy in Lucis.

Cor Leonis hates the rain.

Allergy boy. Sneezes incessantly whenever it starts raining.

He can’t go outside to get some fresh air.

Plus, it gets him into one of his moods.

On rainy days, Cor Leonis contemplates on his own existence.

He questions the decisions he’s made or the ones he is going to make.

His family is of a lesser status as those serving the Crown of Lucis. His decision was to make some sort of distinction for themselves. But he was wondering if he did the right thing.

Instead of going to school or acting like boys his age, he was serving the King of Lucis, secluded within the walls of the Citadel, hearing of news of threats against the kingdom instead of listening to jokes or lessons.

He doesn’t mind those, however. What he kept thinking about is if he’s worthy to be serving the royal family in the first place.

Aside from this, there’s just something about the rain that makes him feel so aware of things.

He’s extra observant of the way the light shifts in the room whenever a storm cloud passes by, or whenever the fire crackles in the fireplace, the distant sound of cars drowned out in the rain, or the sweet scent of hot tea as it lingers in the air of every room in the Citadel.

He likes to stand in front of the windows and just stare out into nothingness, a cup of coffee or barley tea in his hand.

He’s rather fond of the conversations that King Mors and Prince Regis would engage in. He’s often being invited to join, and the laughter or the banters that would echo in the room would comfort him from his rather dreadful reveries.

Cor likes the valses in the rain, too. He likes to listen as the records play out with the scratches echoing from the speaker.

He’d listen to the music as his hand touches every surface he could find, revelling in the way that his senses are even more sensitive in the rain.

Rainy days are the best time to make Cor Leonis memorise something. He’s got nothing else to do, so better make the most of it and ask him to memorise a military strategy or a poem, or anything at all. Except maps, of course. He’s bad at remembering geography.

Weskham Armaugh (before they left for Accordo)

The deep-voiced retainer loves to take things easy on a rainy day.

He’s not sleepy like Clarus nor is he moody like Cor.

No. Weskham drops every appointment he makes and stays indoors. 

He can do some paper work and research, but his priority is to sit back and relax as he listens to the rain.

He’s one of those ‘romantics’ who would light up a candle in his room, put up some incense or sandalwood scent, as well as playing some soft music like jazz to complement the mood.

He’s an intellectual, but he doesn’t shy away from feeling his senses, mainly those that eases some of his troubles away.

Expect him to run a bath at the end of the day, warm and relaxing, a glass of wine in his hand as he reads his new book.

Despite his ‘idle’ state, Weskham gets most of his work done during rainy days. The more relaxed he is, the more he can focus on his work.

Weskham whips up the best soup or pasta on rainy days and everyone looks forward to it.

His friends, and even some of the Kingsglaive would wait in the kitchen as he finishes up his delicious food.

The kitchen becomes one of the liveliest place in the Citadel because of him.

Even King Mors would look forward to Weskham’s famous Lucian Tomato and Olives Pasta.

He’s most susceptible to singing while it’s raining. It gets him into one of his moods wherein he can be heard singing from outside his door.

And he’s got a really good voice, too.

#regis lucis caelum #prince regis lucis caelum #cor leonis #clarus amicitia #veritas lux seculum #cid sophiar #weskham armaugh #regis lucis caelum headcanon #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ff15 #ffxv headcanons #ffxv prince regis #ffxv rainy days headcanons #the truth will light the sky #msy the truth will light the sky #cor leonis headcanon #clarus amicitia headcanon #cid sophiar headcanon #weskham armaugh headcanon #young! king regis #ffxv insomnia #ff15 headcanons

[jay-zoetic]

Life doesn’t happen as fluidly as a memory. Rather it bounces back and forth in relativity. A moment in time linked to another. This is the start of me telling my story, as best I know how. As honestly and as transparently as I can muster so that maybe one day someone can read the words that follow and know, like I did from the many readings of others who were brave enough to share, that they too are not alone. There is always hope.

The Beginning of Knowing:

(A reflection of my slow awakening to my true-self)

Picture this for a moment, 13-year-old me, sitting in a recliner at my Aunt’s house watching “Boys Don’t Cry” for the first time.

The graphic content on the screen making my cheeks flush bright red, so much so I thought the heat would permeate across the room in my aunt’s direction. So naturally, I reached for a blanket as my only barrier to shield her from viewing my reaction to the screen.

-Two years prior my big brother, David whom I idolized was killed in a tragic accident that kick-started the beginning of my world turning away from any sense of normalcy. That kind of trauma as you could imagine, difficult at any age, was especially difficult for an eleven year old. I carried a great guilt for my brother’s death. I didn’t understand how two weeks prior he could leave a voicemail begging my father to come back home and telling him that he’d be a better son, a better big brother to me, and then never having the chance to see him again. 

There are moments with David that will never leave me. 

My brother was not the kind of kid you could brag about. He had his demons and we were always at odds. I felt invisible at his side, but we couldn’t get a-long well enough for him to stay at our home without my father fearing for my safety in his presence. He moved in with our father and my step-mother around the time I was seven. We had a trial run on weekends and holidays the year prior, but both being only children for most of our lives we didn’t much like to share. Our home was a small double-wide trailer that sat on 8 acres of land. Too small to house the two of everything that David and I were gifted to keep the peace. The two trampolines, basketball hoops, a dog pen for each of our dogs, mine, Lady and his, named Yellow.

I didn’t care much for the newly acquired chores of washing the dishes and folding the laundry while my brother took up helping our dad with the yard work, my old job prior to his arrival. I felt like he had taken my father from me and he felt as if I always had my father in his absence, naturally we fought for his love an interaction on equal fronts because my dad spent most of his days working three jobs to feed and provide for two children. 

One day, a short five years after my brother had lived with us, he ripped a sling blade from the palm of my hand. He couldn’t have known how sharp the blade was even in its rusted state, but as the blood trickled down my wrist, I watched my brother panic. It was too late, my father then reacted in a state of rage that I am not proud to admit ended the course of our sibling interaction under the same roof and that night he was asked to pack his belongings. 

It was incredibly quiet the year that my only brother, my terrorizor, my hardest lesson and first in loss, left. I felt half of a void in his absence, not the blood half, but the souls renching grasp of absence half and when I listened to that voicemail a part of me truly believed he had indeed changed. We could try again. We could be a whole family, again.

We went to visit him that weekend at the local skating rink where he, my brothe, practiced for the skate team. I’ll never forget those tight spandex shorts clinging to his thighs and my father calling him, ‘wolf boy” due to the hair state of his exposed legs protrouding from their grip. We spent hours playing Mortal Kombat in the arcade. Side by side exchanging quarters and the last few precious moments of peace and bonding time I’d ever have with him. Before leaving my father told my brother to, “hug your little sister, “she” loves you David and looks up to you.” We both grimaced and with all the hesitation that my brother could muster he finally wrapped me up into those dangling arms one last time. I can still feel the mutters the “ew” and “gross” leaving my lips. It didn’t help much with convincing our parents we’d be fine, but it was a promising start. 

In the parking lot I noticed my brother had grown at least three inches since I’d seen him last. I reached down for a moment to feel the scar on my palm and felt that it was still there, then back up at him to realize that their were no skates on his feet to propel him to the horizon, that was just all puberty taking its course. Time passing and quickly. In that same moment while he exchanged playful punches with my father, I saw him stand toe-to-toe with the man that he feared, just months prior. A glimpse of the man he was destined to become and peering from the backseat window of our family car I saw a slight mist in both of their eyes as they hugged goodbye for the last time. I can still remember my brother’s goofy grin and waver as we pulled out of the parking lot without him and then the moment he turned away, I imagine a little sad that he could not yet come home. That was the last time I ever saw my brother. It was the last time my father ever held his first-born son with his spirit and body intact.

At David’s wake, I was able to kiss his forehead for the first and last time. I didn’t understand why he was wearing make-up and foundation. His hair looked different too, but I didn’t grimace over this strange version of him. I just wanted him to open his eyes. I wanted him to tell me that this was just another one of his pranks. I wanted the crying around me to stop and for his laughter to fill the room instead. The rest his body was covered with as many letters, photos, and tokens from the people that knew and loved him well as his casket could hold. I remember that being my first experience seeing a dead body and how funny it sounded as I sounded that thought out in my head. I remember overhearing the story of that day differently from what I was told through the mutters and whispers of the hundreds of people in the room paying their respects and visiting with the family. I needed to know that it was real, so I reached into his casket one last time to feel his chest, carefully fixing his tie, and I felt it. The absence of structure on his left side. I imagine a vehicle could have done more damage at 55 mph, but aside from the con caved portion of his rib-cage, he looked perfect, but it was enough to know that the following day I had to say the hardest goodbye of my life. I could never again race my brother in go-carts and win. We could never again fight over the Sega genesis games or hockey card and comic book collections. No more stealing his socks because I hated the ones my parents bought for me. He was never coming home again and all that I had left of him was the one thing that sent him away, still itching from time to time on my right palm. What developed after were many changes in my life and at a rapid pace. It was my first real loss and significant heartbreak. My parents were grieving and going through the process of a long and nasty divorce, I was significantly depressed, hormonal & still very much trying to cope with the loss of my brother. When David died a part of me died with him. I lost the one person I identified with close to me and I didn’t cry about it or want to talk about it until years later. This year, I celebrate the man my brother would have become and I am slowly learning how hard it is to become, “that man” in a world that continues to remind me, I am one chromosome away from him & all of the other men I have looked up to in the process of chipping away at 32 years in the wrong body-

As I sat in that recliner, my soccerdelic t-shirt and green umbro soccer shorts I had begged for in the Belks Junior section (my grandmother’s favorite place to shop for me twice a year. Once prior to school starting and once for Summer) were hugging my rage and hormone filled body. I began feeling flushed as I watched a scene that I now identify as my, "awakening”.

The characters in the film felt so familiar to me; especially Brandon Tina, formerly known as Tina Brandon.

I was terrified with shame. When the surge of lightening coursed through my veins, I gripped the blanket tighter, hid my face, and pretended to sleep.

I had just enough light to continue watching through the tiny weaving of the blanket material. My synapses firing all at once, my heart racing, feeling uncomfortable and confused as to why I never knew these things ever existed. Bewildered by the confrontation now settling weight upon my conscience. Questioning how much sin was within me and how much sin had been inside of me, unwillingly.

Then it happened. The Big Bang effect that would ripple through my life as a warning and another “awakening” as Brandon Teena is pulled from the backseat of a vehicle, bound, and then violated in the most horrific way imaginable. In that moment, I felt dead inside. The life I had experienced in my short 13 years had already been unkind and I was learning the difference between normal and abnormal from a TV screen and it looked and sounded a lot like Brandon Teena’s experience.

I felt my chest tighten, my breathing heavy, and my eyes begin to flood with so much hurt and confusion that I was sure my Aunt could feel it from across the room. I wept quietly for the first time since my brother’s death. I wept for Brandon and I cried for what I though then to be -the bleak existence of my future.

What I learned was something that would haunt me for years to come and I felt something that I couldn’t share with anyone. Horrible things. I felt completely and totally alone in it.

I learned that those things that were called “love” could look a lot like someone you know and that rape doesn’t just happen in dark deserted parking lots, it doesn’t just happen to the pretty girls, or the ones who were out too late, it could even happen without someone identifying as a girl, it could happen out of hate for who you are and for who you are not. I learned that I was not alone in my experience, but I also learned that I was not “normal” and to vocalize any of this would surely be my death sentence. I’d witnessed my parents grieve once and in that moment I chose silence, I chose to burden myself with the responsibility of being the constant to keep them from suffering more and that would mean never speaking of these things to keep me alive and should I ever be brave enough to change; don’t.

Fast Forward 2 years>>>

I was a sophomore in high school, a new one since moving in with my father. A small victory came at the age 15 years old when I decided to go by “Jessy” instead of Jessica-Renee. Like most teens, I used my creativity in high school to set myself apart as an individual. I was incredibly naive, but it was the first time I ever felt like I had a voice or a choice in my life to be or identify with that quieted version of myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my name. It was beautiful, but it did not fit me. I would reply to my given name, but out of habit. I loved being named after my dad’s sister, Renee. She was strong, beautiful, and everything I wanted to be growing up. She made life cultured for me when I didn’t have the option to know anything other than the sheltered experiences of my home-life. She understood hustle and hard work and she saw the challenges I was put up against, but never made me feel like I was smaller than them. She pushed me to be better.

The world had already taught me a harsh lesson in what being a woman meant. I had to harness a different kind of strength & beauty to achieve that, but I never could relate to them. I felt as if I were chasing a ghost. A version of someone who didn’t exist within me. I felt like a liar and a cheat, but I became so good at switching the mask.

Everything about being around girls/women felt foreign and I tried to mimic those strong women in my life because I at least knew that meant safety. But in the dark moments when the burden of surviving overwhelmed me I turned to coping in unhealthy ways. I created a cycle of chaos in my relationships with others and damaged my body to punish myself for all of the things that I couldn’t control. I could control that. I honestly felt as though I deserved it. So I didn’t reach for more. I just kind of stagnated until the next thing came along.

In the mean-time I’d fantasize about what my life would be like once I graduated. I’d write lists of what my male name would be, hidden under the title of, “baby boy names” for when I was married to, “said guy” and have the ideal life that my parents would have wanted for me.

I’d think about how I want to sound as strong as my Brother, David or my Father, Brian. Could I convince others to call me something different one day? Would there ever be a moment in my life I could “figure out” what this meant for me?

There are moments that I’m reminded of the sound of my Nana, Grandma, and aunt’s voices calling out for me. The deliberate nature of their voices trailing out from a room separate from me in my life. The women that sheltered me. The women that tried so hard to teach me my place in the world. I felt so much guilt for my part in their inability to contain the fire that burned within me. They often let me figure it out on my own after many attempts at, “getting through” my stubborn ways. Those moments seem so special now in my transition. I’ve tucked them into a safe corner in my mind because truthfully, I will always cherrish the way my name would sound bellowing from their bellies and echoing through their respective homes. Each time felt like love vibrating through the walls and down the hallways I’d learn to walk, first from a crawl, then to a run, and eventually wearing those foreign stilts that my feet felt cramped in. The first blisters on my heels the night of prom when I double-stacked bandaids and smiled at the flashes to match theirs on the other side of the lens. Inside I was clawing at the seams of my costume. The cost of being a woman was a price that weighed too heavy, but there was always a comfort in their firm southern drawl. It deafened the voice that told me I couldn’t be loved, but it also came with a price.

-JESS-KUH RENEE!

-You go GIRL!

These are the moments I’ll keep. I’m learning that I don’t have to wish them away.

You see, like many, I grew up in a tough environment for any child, let alone a growing young lady. The men in my life also made me tough. They knew and saw my curiosity/love of adventure. It was always confusing when the women in my life tried to shelter me from all of that. Collectively they instilled in me a complex & resiliency. It was a tough balance.

There were fights on Sunday about the donning of dresses. There were arguments made about the use/sharing of toys between my brother and I prior to his passing. My barbies were gifted to the back yard then met by the blades of my father’s riding lawn mower.

I buried all of my secrets in the ground of that 8 acres I grew up on in the country on notebook paper. I understood soon enough that writing them down felt more important than having anyone to tell them to.

I prayed beneath cotton candy colored skies at sunsets as my parents yelled so loudly the neighbor’s would take notice and step outside to see me, that quirky kid sitting on a partially deflated basketball holding a pen and paper in my lap.

I prayed that I’d wake up in another world and in the right body, with the perfect family. I prayed for my parents to find peace before my own.

When my breast started to grow, I remember the embarrassment of finding and wearing my first cotton training bra. My grandmother and step-mother took me shopping; at Belks, of course. They were thrilled about this “achievement” of simply waking up to new growth. I was mortified. It was more garment to fight with at the start of my daily routine. Another reason to hate getting dressed in the mornings. I envied my brother who’d walk around the house with a bare chest. His ego a mile wide.

I’d hide in the bathroom trying to figure out why my skin felt like sandpaper against my under garments. My body hair grew from places that he showed so carelessly. I felt ashamed. For wanting it to grow, but also embarrassed at school in gym because other girls my age were already shaving their armpits and apparently that was just another right of passage in womanhood. Once my brother’s girlfriend told me that I should just “shave it off.” I asked my parents if this were possible, but they firmly instructed me to never shave above my knees and to only use an electric razor in shaving below my knees. I found this strange. My brother, who knew this offered to shave my legs for me. I also found this strange, but I agreed and halfway through the process I chickened out. I realized later, with my one shaved calf that this was a set-up. It dawned on me when riding in my father’s truck later that day when he looked down at me trying to cover my left leg and asked why only one leg had hair on it?!

I stammered to explained to him that David shaved it for me. My father’s face looked confused by the admission. He knew David would have never tried to touch me with a razor out of pure discourse for wanting to be near me, let alone without first; trying to harm me with it. Automatically, it sounded like a farce. His face reddened, then the yelling came, where he forbids me to ever shave again.

When I returned to school the in the following weeks, I was relentlessly teased for my hairy legs by my peers. Both boys and girls. I felt trapped in my body by perceptions again and I refused to wear shorts for the fear of being teased again.

I was 15 the year I caved to the societal pressures for what being a woman meant. Remember that night of my first prom? My parents had this glow about them when they saw me. I had by then, grew my hair out, shaved my legs, and started wearing makeup. I felt like a fraud, but the teasing slowed and I began to make friends.

For Amy:

I spent the first few weeks at my new school sophomore year trying to re-establish myself in a new setting. I felt the warmth of possibility. The first attempt came the first day of classes and I was excited to try out my, “new name.”

First period, History class and a name roll-call later I found myself penning down the spelling variations of Jessy, Jessi, Jesse, Jeci over the blue lined notebook paper in front of me. Trying to shield it from others as the teacher, a very round bellied man, grasped his belt and began to ask for our preferred names following the announcing of our “birth-names”. I had a choice here! Finally, I settled on Jessy. So, when I heard the name Jessica, my ears perked and before I could get that final choice uttered, he said their last name…Biggs. The crushing moment that followed was her introduction to her preferred name and spelling…”JESSY”. I didn’t have time to recover before my name was called Immediately following hers. I uttered out a simple, “here”. To my new friends I introduced myself with my preferred name. I didn’t make a fuss about the spelling. I did however have to meet this Jessy.

Jessy walked the halls that day with a similar looking girl, with similar looking hair. The only real difference between the two was a sleeve of tattoos that covered the other girl down to her hands. I knew they were both upper class-men. I’d heard it from Jessy who introduced herself as a junior and later that day I’d catch a brief moment of loving affection shown between her and the girl with similar looking hair while sitting on a bench outside of the lunchroom. I didn’t feel like sitting alone among so many people whose grown-up together so, I casually walked to the end of the hall adjacent to where they sat. I noticed that the tattooed girl, didn’t very much resemble a girl to me at all. This peaked my interest further, but I was too shy to introduce myself and also aware that there was a reason they sat outside of the lunchroom. It was safety.

4th period, Algebra I noticed the girl with similar hair sitting behind me. I needed an excuse to talk to her and learn her name. She felt familiar. She also felt like knowing her would be terrifying for me. I faked reaching for a pencil and then turned empty handed to ask her if I could have one from her. I felt the entire room shift as I spoke. The other students seemed completely surprised that I, long curly headed new-girl would even speak to her. Then, A response, “you can BORROW one.” I laughed nervously and said, “of course, my name is Jessy, in case you need to hunt me down for it later.” She seemed perplexed, but responded, “I’m Amy, thanks.” I couldn’t leave well enough alone and asked to see her tattooed hands and made some lame remark like, “cool tats, that must have hurt.”

I’d get to know Jessy and Amy more over time that year. They introduced me to Nikki and later Nikki would introduce me to Jaimie…who became my very best friend. Another girl, who didn’t look very much like a girl that I crushed on from afar until we met. I would watch and listened to Jaimie and Amy carefully. Constantly in awe of their presence and their bravery to dress in the ways that I allow longed to. But when the moments that occurred from others throwing shame or hatred their way, I cowered. We hung out after school, but in the halls, I started to avoid them to protect my new image from being tarnished along with theirs for standing with them.

Eventually, I couldn’t run from it and started to embrace our friendship more. I would come to learn that Amy identified as transgender. It became my second “awakening” and when she graduated that year, I was sad to know I no longer had her stories or comfort around whenever I needed them. He never knew my internal struggle or how much I relied on her strength to feed mine because four years later when I was ready to reveal that long-held secret, Amy and his girlfriend were killed by a drunken driver while walking home from dinner.

Years 16-17: Independence.

Bouncing between two homes is a terrible experience when your parents carry different parenting styles, but it’s much easier when you finally get your first set of wheels.

I had been working since I was old enough to get my work permit, but the back and forth nature of things made it tough to acquire my learners permit for driving. I finished the course at my old high school, but my parents didn’t have the money to invest in car insurance and a vehicle safe enough to put me in.

My grandmother and grandfather saw a need and stepped in. They did most of the shuttling me around and eventually, they took me in for my driver’s test to achieve that limited learner’s permit prior to getting my license.

May 5th, 2003

I had the permit for almost a week. I was only allowed to drive with a licensed driver over the age of 25. After school one day my grandmother and aunt picked me up in my aunt’s candy-apple red Jeep Cherokee. At the time it was my dream vehicle. I had hopes that she’d retire it to me once I got my full license. I begged them to let me drive the last few miles home from a nearby Burger King because I was hungry and wanted to experience my first time driving unassisted. I was met with hesitation, but eventually found myself behind the wheel grinning from ear to ear while they gripped the, “oh shit! handles” and white knuckles it until we reached my grandmother’s driveway.

I hopped out of the Jeep beaming. I was proud of myself and couldn’t wait to tell my grandfather the good news! He always invested in my successes. Although he was a timid man, he was packed full of charm. His tumbling booms of laughter and joy were all I wanted to hear coming through her door. Usually, he’d greet me with…” where’s my girl?! Come here so I can get a bite of those cheeks!” Then he’s followed with a hug so tight and so warm it could melt the coldest of hearts, mine included.

However, his carefully chosen dialogue and calming nature where not what greeted us as I stormed through the sun-room door and ran towards his chair in the den…empty.

My grandmother’s voice belted from the kitchen, “GUY! GET UP!” My stomach turned and I ran to the kitchen. The fear in her voice was as thick as the swallow of air I fought hard to take into my lungs and release. His feet protruded from the side of the kitchen table. One shoe half on, the other hugging the wall with a tiny trail of his blood dried to the wallpaper. A plate of food still on the table half eaten. That moment felt like an eternity. My brain trying to understand what and how this had happened. A million questions took the backseat as I jumped into action. First trying to wake him. His face pale and upon reaching for his face I felt the cool moisture of his sweat roll down my wrist. Instinctively I reached into his mouth and removed the partial bits left inside blocking his airway. My grandmother in shock started lifting his legs to get him to, “wake up.” Me yelling at her not to move him and then yelling for my aunt to call an ambulance. Moments later he awoke. Only able to try and move his right arm and speak in distorted language. Something in me said, “this is a stroke” When the paramedics arrived, they loaded him into what I had defined as a coffin since my brother’s last trip in that metal box of doom. I didn’t know if I’d ever get those cheek bites again and I felt a terrible guilt for insisting I drove home, making us arrive home later than usual, to find him like that.

He spent the night in Urgent Care and I spent the night trying to avoid the inevitable. Life as I knew it always came in pairs of heartache. The fear of losing g my grandfather was first, the second, losing my sense of peace and safety once I returned home. The second happened that night, for the first time in the one place I called home, but not the “first time”. My safe place. just a few feet away from the kitchen, just a few feet away from my grandfather’s recliner the only man in my life big enough or worthy enough to fill it with love and compassion. This time was different. I put up a fight, tried my damnedest to avoid what I knew could happen, naive enough to think that maybe, some compassion would be bestowed upon me due to the circumstances of what I had been through earlier in my day, but it wasn’t enough to save me from the rest of the attack on body. It wasn’t enough to save me from him.

I missed school the next day, I would have rather gone. In fact, I begged my parents. Anything to keep me away from seeing HIS face, my father’s face when I returned to his house later that afternoon when, HIM, aka “asshole” dropped me off and shook my father’s hand. Anything to keep me pre-occupied from the only other fear in my life at that moment. Losing my grandfather.

I sat on the floor talking to my first girlfriend on the phone. I remember when the line cut in that another call was coming through. I answered to find my grandmother’s voice. A little light shining through that dark time. It was good news. My grandfather had a stroke, but they anticipated another surgery to put in a feeding tube and all should be well. I hung up with relief. In a matter of hours, another call came. This time my step-mother’s voice. This time, my grandfather didn’t make it through the surgery. His body went into shock after the feeding tube was placed. He was gone and I was shattered.

The months that followed were bleak. My mind kind of tapped out on knowing what I needed to feel better. I started caving to peer pressure more and more. I fell away from my principles and morals. I lied to my family, a lot. Mostly because I needed to be away, at any expense. For safety. For healing.

The highlight finally came the day that my grandmother announced she’d help me get my first vehicle. I was just days shy of my 17th birthday. I was so relieved that she’d agreed to help that I nearly ignored “asshole” picking me up from her house later that evening following family supper in my new car. Donning that devilish smile as he existed the car, he questioned,

“Well? What are you waiting for? it’s not going to drive itself?”

I reluctantly climbed into the driver seat. My grandmother motioned for my to, “start her up!” And I obeyed. As we left the driveway the mixture of emotions in my body conflicted with all that I should have been feeling In that moment. The thought of having any sort independence killed with one statement, “there are rules…as you could imagine. You break them and there will be consequences and if you try anything funny, you will lose, every time.” I knew it wasn’t about the car. It wasn’t about my competence in driving or safety on the road. This was a challenge to losing access to me. In that moment my eyes fixated on the tree line, my head went back to that prison, and the only thing keeping my tires between the yellow and white lines was the voice inside of me yelling back, “NOT YET!”

18: The beginning of the end.

Senior year was a tremendous year of growth. I had friends, many of them identified like me. They came from troubled homes, struggled with their sexuality, fitting into a mold placed upon them while living in a southern small town. We did naturally, what most teens do…we rebelled. There were many nights I’d stay out late partying at friends’ houses. I went to swim practices, school, work, then home to do it all over again. I fell away from things that kept me surrounded by my family only because I tried to avoid, “Him”.

I signed my paper for the military and in my waiting to leave that Summer, I practiced my freedom

more than ever. My friends and I started watching a show called, “The L Word.” It felt like the world was turning in my favor and I could start talking about my attraction to women more. So that outing came quicker than expected by a note one of my other step-mom’s found at my dad’s house, only second to him learning from a girl at school that I was, “Bi-sexual.” To this day I’m not quite sure what provoked her to approach my father with that news, but it happened and I was angry for several reasons. The first being that I did NOT identify as Bi-sexual. The second and major reason, I was joining the military and at that time, there was a strict, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy in place that could have jeopardized my career and true-freedom before it ever happened for me.

That didn’t stop my exploration of finding myself, but I was more careful in my approaches. A few weeks prior to leaving for the military I spent a lot of time with my friends. My father asked me to leave the house upon learning I liked women and I was too ashamed to tell my grandmother. On weekends I would stay with her and during the week I’d crash on my friends couches.

I spent a lot of time with Jaimie and Amy that Summer. Amy started hormone therapy and I was blown away at the changes to her voice. I would try on Jaimie’s clothing and too poor or either too scared to buy my own men’s clothing I’d opt to wear hers. That is until my first Walmart purchase at 1am after a work shift when Jaimie, Karla, and I adventure through the men’s section to find what was my very first men’s outfit. It consisted of a striped polo, cargo khaki colored shorts, and finally a sports bra and boxer briefs!

Uncle Sam: (Death of the Femme)

Basic training could have gone smoother had I not opted to wear those new boxers the first night.

They lined us up against the wall lockers and screamed for all articles of clothing to come off. I, like many others stripped down to just my sports bra and boxers. Exposed in more than one way I instantly regretted my choice of underwear. That is until the screaming symphony of TIs shocked me out of that thought and back into action and I began pulling the remaining articles of clothing from my body as fast as I could. Completely naked and bare to strangers we filed into a single line. My body, the last to join the other-foreign bodies, who all seemed to remember the most important part. Pack shower shoes. I ruffled through my bag desperately trying to find a solution. I imagine the comedic relief to the others as I was made to wear the only pair of sneakers/shoes I had with me into the rotation of 8 scorching hot shower heads. If I didn’t want to stand out, I surely had a way of making it happen. I wore those squishy tennis shoes everywhere I went for the remainder of the week until we were allowed to visit the commentary. Which only had the size up from what I needed, but it was better than the tennis shoes and showers became a little more bearable.

I envied my brother flight’s experience. They didn’t have to live with 49 other women all on their periods, (which I started for the second time the second week of basic because, well biology.) They didn’t have to get fitted for the ankle length dress blues skirt or hear screaming at one another over the use of someone’s hair gel, or for someone’s hair falling out of their mildewing hair bun roll while doing push-ups and earning a demerit for the entire flight for it. I’m sure they had their own struggles, but I welcomed them more than my own.

Upon graduation I ended up getting stationed at Travis AFB in California. I spent many nights in my dorm room watching movies and listening to music until I met others to spend time with that I could relate to. I met friends, women who also liked women, but I didn’t feel like I fit with them either. It was a start. In my new sense of freedom, I purchased more men’s clothing. I obtained more guy friends and started living my life as best a I could to avoid the inner turmoil that still existed within me.

One night at the base gas station I came across a film about a trans woman’s experience in life. I felt sick. I had a hatred brewing against anything that felt too close for comfort or served as a reminder that I was trapped in a world that could never allow me; serving my country for freedoms I could not partake in for fear of losing everything I’d worked so hard for. To be labeled unfit or abnormal. Not only in my military career where I’d landed on my false identity as a “butch lesbian” because it was somehow safer than my own understanding of gender identity norms at the time, but also in my personal relationships with those I’d share intimacy.

Did you know that within the Queer Community there are many definitions to what it means to be a lesbian, gay man, etc? Did you also know that there exists a bias toward the Transgender community?  A lot of us experience this bias as a betrayal...I certainly did and sometimes, still do encounter it.

Vocabulary and Syntax are funny things, especially when they are weaponized just as you start to feel safe in a community that is supposed to embrace and celebrate differences. Never-the-less, I pushed forward. I found comfort in things that were not comfortable after their effects wore off.

My escapes into bars and nightclubs were riddled with hypocrisy and fear. Choosing to go out with friends, which friends were safe to take along or how I’d explain myself should I happen to be in one of those taboo places by a fellow airman or worse, “OSI” Office of Special Investigation. My sole task was blending in, but I wanted nothing more than to scream out

-I don’t belong here!?

-I don’t feel safe here?!

2008(May the truth set you on fire before they burn you down)

The orders came that I would deploy at a very inconvenient moment in my career/personal a struggle. I began coming to terms with the fact that my absence could be a saving grace but before I left I had this urgent need to tell my family everything I’d been sorting through in therapy relating to my past trauma. With some family members I expected anger, but when that didn’t happen I felt reassured that if they couldn't handle the worst kind of ugly by being supportive, how would they ever support the other secrets I’d locked away that were killing me? It was rough. The time I spent deployed was the most awakening.

The quiet was loud in my head yet; I found comfort in knowing that the things that had hurt me most were thousands of miles away. I felt hope in knowing that if I were not to make it home at least my story didn’t die with me. Only, not a full comfort because I was still locking the rest within the barrel of my chest. I felt relief in knowing that coming home any other way would be disgraceful and truly felt as though I had purpose.

Some days I’d wish for peace in the form

The crisis I was going through with my gender identity paled in comparison with the haunting nature of my past. Suddenly, all of those bad and dark things started affecting me more than they had ever before because my knowledge of their abnormalities and exposure to other cultures and customs made me realize that I finally had to start talking about them to get through them and over them, to heal. I knew that I had to fix those things first and felt like maybe in fixing them, I too, could make the male parts of my brain and the longing for them go away. 

To be continued…

In case you wanted to know the reasoning behind my choice or are interested: Follow along…

Jayce (Hebrew, same as my prior name) “healer” or “the Lord is salvation”. Includes my favorite aspects of my prior name.

Bodie ( Bodie is a former gold-mining town and State Historic Park in California’s Bodie Hills, near the Nevada border.)

The boy's name Bodie \b(o)-die\ is a variant of Boden (Scandinavian, Old French), and the meaning of Bodie is "shelter; one who brings news". Same as my grandmother’s name Evangeline.

"Awakened" or "Enlightenment" The Buddhist concept of Bodhi is spiritual awakening and freedom from the cycle of life. Bodhi is also the name of the sacred ficus tree (ficus religiosa) under which Lord Buddha sat and obtained his enlightenment.

[ghostmartyr]

Fic: A Terrible Idea [4/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: Thank you wiki for caring more about Sannes’ partner’s name than I did.

Segment summary: Ymir continues her contribution to the story’s title.

I II III

Schools liked to act like they cared about their students.

They didn’t, but try explaining that and the loudest thing for miles would be some school counselor asking why it is that schools suck, and sweetheart, are you being bullied? Meanwhile five periods went by, and everything of educational value was lost. Finding that upsetting was considered grounds for another session a week later. Because wanting to talk about feelings was so normal.

Ymir had her doubts that anyone believed that. Including the counselor. What really mattered was that if she ran off and did something scandalous, no one could say the school hadn’t put in the bare minimum token effort to prevent such behavior.

Looks were everything. With that checked off, the freedom to do whatever the hell you want rang.

Historia got that. One more infernally attractive factoid about her. Ymir was still working her way up to being whatever the hell, so hot cheerleader’s current shtick mostly involved her phone— but damn if she didn’t make the most of it. While a grand total of no one pointed out that the school goddess was about as interested in them and their anything as any real god had to be.

It was all about appearances. Historia’s went way further than her skirt length, which was the multifold brand of luck that had people on the other side of the planet dying for the sake of balance.

Ymir knew all about appreciating a master at work. She spent most of her time being one.

So when the school set out neat, orderly guidelines about where their beloved sheeple were allowed to be during lunch hour, whatever. If they wanted to pretend they had a say in where the cool kids sat, Ymir was willing to work with it. All it took was finding the right prop.

Some people, like Porco’s delinquent friend, went old school and paid in full for their gear. No one was going to mess with the kid who brought a knife to school when that kid was Annie. As long as good ol’ cousin Levi wasn’t around, she had a permanent hall pass with edges sharp enough to kill a man. Several, if the rumors had any truth to them.

Porco needed to hang around better influences.

Ymir went classic.

She tucked a manila folder under her arm and went right out the front gate.

Very official, very unlikely to get the cops called, and innocuous enough that the idiot in the suit didn’t so much as glance up when she snapped a picture of him lighting up a cigarette on school grounds. All-star dad had some intense thoughts on what he’d do to them if they ever got their phones confiscated, so Pieck had charitably donated hers to the cause.

Ymir, primo messenger girl on a mission, didn’t waste her time on the private eye spiel begging to be played out. One hour a day, she got to share a room with an undersexed goddess. She wasn’t going to offer more of her precious seconds up to the altar for cheap drama. Any was bad enough.

Keeping the folder on obvious display, she walked across the parking lot.

The suit, peasant name Ralph (he wore a nametag. A collar must have had too much dignity), didn’t catch on fast. He looked up seconds too late to change his fate, Ymir sliding easily into his hazy view. His shiny silver lighter glinted in his hand like it knew it was never going out of style. Ralph scowled like he knew he couldn’t say the same.

“School’s that way, kid.”

This was going to be a fucking treat.

“Smoking’s really bad for your health,” Ymir said, keeping up a smile for her new friend. She drew Pieck’s phone with a flourish, flicking over to its latest digital addition. “Maybe not as bad as this, though.”

Ralph’s scowl added a pulsing vein or two, and a swell of panic. Ymir sat back on the beautifully waxed hood of the nearest car. His car. This guy had never had a bright idea in his life, thank fuck. Ymir made a show of craning her neck to examine the evidence. “Would you look at that. Right in front of the school sign. Way to earn that street cred.”

Never let it be said that the Reiss family hired people who couldn’t understand blackmail.

With what they got up to, that was probably one of the top things they looked for, even if they neglected things like enough common sense to avoid lawbreaking when they were on the clock.

Ralph looked like he was rediscovering the part of him that was okay with murder. “What,” he asked, “do you want?”

Ymir grinned at her new bestie. “You’re Historia Reiss’ driver, right?”

----

If there was anything you learned from sharing a house with a jock and his helicopter brother, it was getting up at the crack of dawn for things that made no sense.

“Hey, Historia!”

Ymir was finally finding it in her to forgive them for that.

The early morning sun flattered Historia’s figure just as well as the other times of day, perfecting her halo hair and bringing new light to the sheen of sweat cheerleading practice always gifted her with. All the shifting hours brought out were fifty new shades of gorgeous, and a touch of drowsiness to go with the death in her eyes.

All while she waited by the locker room instead of heading in. Because when Ymir said her name, she stopped. Easy peasy lemon fucking squeezy.

Like the smile Ymir felt stepping up with the butterflies. She kept a lid on it. There wasn’t much she could do about a person being a walking aphrodisiac, but if she was going to return the favor, she couldn’t go around with dopey hearts in her eyes. Major turnoffs like that were why Porco was still a virgin. She was on the charm and swag track, not the loser romantic track.

Dialing it up a notch, she winked at Historia and held out the fruits of her labor.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up before school,” she said. “A pretty girl like you should always have something to snack on.”

One vending machine granola bar, as sponsored by Ralph. Cheap, probably not poison, and most importantly, something that Historia liked that wasn’t her phone. Other options included watered down sports drinks and vitamin water. Ymir was now the proud owner of a list of acceptable flavors for every consumable Historia tolerated—along with the confirmation that servants were basically paid stalkers. Bunch of creeps.

Historia took the candy bar with a hesitation so slight it belonged in a casino. Points to Ralph.

“Do you blackmail people often?”

Fuck Ralph.

“It’s more of a trading favors deal,” Ymir said. She sprawled a hand on her hip. “I offer to cover for someone, they owe me, I let them know how to clear the debt.” Nowhere in the process was procuring a new debt mentioned. That little thing the Reisses should seriously consider screening for was supposed to keep that from happening.

Schooling her expression like a boss a few pay grades behind the light of her life, she kept the next conversation piece relaxed. “He told you about it?”

Historia shrugged. “He thought you were trying to poison me.”

She peeled back the wrapper and took a bite of granola.

Blue eyes left laser etchings in Ymir’s pupils, and just what the fuck. What the fuck bound this person to a human body, and could she get its number next. Hell, she should have bargained with Ralph for Historia’s from the start. Maybe her to-do list needed an upgrade from its one item generalization.

“Not,” Ymir said, “my first plan for your body.”

Historia bit off another piece. Ymir’s shoes dug into a crack in the pavement. Blinking was slowly earning an urban legend tally. There really was something about those damn eyes. They weren’t so bleary now. There was almost a spark looking back at her. Art appreciation wasn’t a course Ymir had plans to bother with, but this moment was making it rain college credits.

“You could have asked,” Historia said abruptly.

Ymir’s eyebrows popped up. It took a Herculean effort to remember that they were back to talking about the Ralph factor and keep her mouth from going full lewd. She should have gotten a drink while she was at the vending machine. “What, you? You take requests?”

Historia shrugged again, popping the last bit of the bar into her mouth. “Yours, maybe.”

She turned around and walked into the locker room.

Ymir stood still and transcended.

Next

#yumikuri #yumihisu #shingeki no fanfic #fic #mine #well #not at 3am

[relaxedreptile]

The War

Pairing: Yixing X Female Reader

Mentions of war. Suggestive.

-

“When do you have to leave?” “My platoon leaves on the twenty-ninth of May.” “May? Of what year?” “This year, my love.” “But that’s not even six months away! I don’t even have half of a year to spend with you?” “I am always with you, my love, no matter the time or place.” “I know, Yixing, I know.”

Your mother used to tell you that everyone on earth had a special counterpart, a soulmate, created specially for them. Your father used to add that not everyone came in contact with this special person. They could be alive in completely different eras, in completely different countries, in completely different points in their lives.

Sometimes, when we don’t end up finding this person, we convince ourselves of love. We make ourselves believe that we are content with the person we are with, because we cannot be happy without being with the person we aren’t. While others are unlucky in this way, unlucky in the way that forces them into a life composed of lying to themselves, others thrive in this particular area.

Whether or not finding their soulmate comes easy to them, or it takes years and years and miles and miles of searching and searching, they are lucky enough to latch onto them and never let them go.

While you and Yixing were lucky enough to find your soulmates, you weren’t lucky enough to have the privilege of keeping them close to you.

You and Yixing were high school sweethearts. It was apparent to everyone how easily you two fit together, flowed together. No one had any doubt that Yixing was your special counterpart and that you were his.

When rumors of The War, of the upcoming draft started to float around, it was obvious what it meant for you and your boyfriend.

When you were both barely eighteen you acquired the consent of your parents to allow you to marry, they agreed immediately. They had the same fears as you.

The wedding was as grand as could be in a country that was soon-to-be plagued with fighting and bloodshed. Your dress was long, barely kissing your toes that were covered by a pair of kitten heels, stained a deep plum. It was your favorite pair of shoes, ones your parents had gifted to you for this special day. While they were not the most expensive things in the world, they were now incredibly special to you and just so happened to be a combination of Yixing’s two favorite colors.

Your long arms were shielded with silver lace, glimmering as you walked down the aisle, the skirt of your dress swaying. Your bouquet was purely purple hyacinths. The stems tickled your uncovered hands.

Yixing was as gorgeous as ever, a smile on his face that told you everything he was feeling.

Proud, that you chose him. Excited, that you two would officially be bound for life. Nervous, of disappointing you. Angry, at the fact that he would have to leave you in three months, twelve days, four hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirty-one seconds.

After the ceremony came to an end, everyone found their own way to you and Yixing’s new home together. Small, shabby, but full of life and food and dancing and celebration once the guests arrived.

You refused to think about the fact that you would be living in this home alone for months. Quite possibly years.

Yixing made sure to try and distract you… all night long.

“Today’s the day, huh?”

One shaky hand reached out to the coffee mug in front of you while the other stayed flat on your stomach.

“He left this morning,” you told your sister, taking a sip of a searing hot liquid that seemed to chill you to the bone. Or maybe that was just the fact that you may never see the love of your life again.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for the kids, Junmyeon would've had to leave too, I understand-” “I’m pregnant, Seoyeon. Yixing could’ve stayed with me, with us, but my husband is a man who doesn’t skip out on his service to his country.”

Your sister was appalled at your outburst that targeted her own soulmate.

“Y/N, you don't mean that.”

You pretended to not notice how she ignored your confession in order to call you out instead of putting the spotlight she treasured so much on you.

For the first three weeks of his enlistment, Yixing wrote you everyday. He was constantly reminding you of how he wouldn’t be able to write to you while on the battlefield. If the letters stopped, the fighting began.

It took you two more weeks before you accepted the fact that no more letters were coming.

Your whole village pitied you, especially the women, even though you weren’t the only wife whose husband was off fighting in god knows where.

You knew it was stemmed from jealousy. You could list the women in your village who had found their true soulmate on one of your hands. That’s including you and your mother.

While your soulmate wasn’t by your side right now, you had found him, you had married him and started a family. You would never be jealous of the women with the pretty clothes and tiny bodies draped with glittering jewels.

The only precious gem you needed was your daughter, now three months old and as gorgeous as ever. She had inherited your husband’s dimple and your mother’s name, Ara.

You two had established a refined schedule over the two years you had spent with her, alone. Ara’s favorite part of the day was her bedtime, oddly enough, because this is where you gave her permission to ask anything she wanted. More specifically, ask anything about her father.

It was one night in particular that you became overly emotional with your daughter before she went off to sleep, causing you to retreat back downstairs once she was fast asleep rather than finding your way into the bedroom you had only shared with someone else for a fraction of the time it was in your possession.

You spent your time flipping through one of the old photo albums you had dedicated to images of you and Yixing, from your first year of high school to the last day you had seen your husband.

While you were focused on taking deep breaths into your lungs, you were interrupted by three simple knocks against the front door that was already rotting. You contemplated ignoring whoever or whatever was in front of your home, keeping the safety of your daughter in mind and what could happen to her if something happened to you.

Being in the situation you had been in for years, you had learned to take care of yourself. Defend yourself. You knew what you stood for, what you lived for.

If anything came in between your ability to take care of your daughter, they would be stupid to even try and mess with you.

Once you unlocked the door, you continued to slowly open it, peaking through the growing sliver of light.

Your eyes were immediately met with a bandaged hand clutching onto the straps of a duffel bag. They widened when you noticed the name crudely stitched onto the front.

Y. Zhang

“Did you know the family name comes last in America?”

There you go, there were the first words you heard your husband speak in almost three years.

His injured hand dropped the straps of his bag in order to catch your body that had thrown itself into his own, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and shoulders to make sure that this, that he was real.

“Hello, love.” You started to laugh and cry all at the same time. “Welcome back, Yixing.”

Your husband started to twirl you as he stepped inside your shared home, kicking the door closed with his steel-toed boot. You were surprised the force didn’t unhinge the slab of wood.

When your feet once again made contact with the floor, your lips ran to meet Yixing’s, engaging in a kiss that you were imprinting in your mind as it went along.

The two of you broke away for a quick break, catching your breath. You met Yixing’s gaze, just now realizing how much you loved his eyes, as he stared at you expectantly.

“Can I see her?”

#zhang yixing #yixing #yixing fluff #yixing angst #yixing smut #exo #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo angst #exo smut #kim minseok #xiumin #kim junmyeon #suho #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #kim jongdae #chen #park chanyeol #chanyeol #do kyungsoo #do #kim jongin #kai #oh sehun #sehun #wrote this one a whiiiiile ago #I have so many ideas #must write!!! #rr:zhang yixing