#my stomach is churning by 3pm

[herawell]

.

#every time i wfh #every time without fail #my stomach is churning by 3pm #no matter what I eat or if I have meals at the proper time #away from the office and other people I get inside my own head #and get a pit in my stomach #and I’m usually in bed till 10am #if I have a meeting I just do it from underneath the covers #really need to go into the office every day #the perks of not having to commute or dress up and being able to get house chores done #is not worth it #plus missing out on water cooler talk and the social capital of in-person meetings #negativity cw

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window. 

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…” 

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date. 

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped. 

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm. 

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained. 

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

 “Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…” 

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being. 

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return.  When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be. 

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!” 

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly. 

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley. 

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause. 

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger. 

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine. 

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform. 

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict. 

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said. 

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…”  you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove. 

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed. 

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine. 

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

[madeintheniamh]

Please can you write something about Tilly having a panic attack because she’s stressed about school (maybe exams) and Harry is calming her down? That would be so cute!

sorry this has taken me so long to respond to, but it's here now at least. enjoy xxx

--------------------------------

you can let it go

stmf one shot #8.

a/n: loved writing this one! i know gcses and a levels are coming up for any of my fellow uk readers and i just wanna say if you're seeing this, please don't panic. exams are made up to be so much more than they actually are, and you are always more than what a piece of paper says.

warnings: panic attack, lots of dadrry and fluff haha

She had the pen in-between her fingers, but she couldn’t will her hand to get it to move across the page. Somewhere, deep down, she knew the answers, she knew them. But after spending weeks revising for her GCSE mock exams, she couldn’t get herself to jot them down onto the exam paper in front of her. She glanced around at the hall around her, and it looked as though the clock was playing tricks on her, the big hand moving at double the pace it should have been. She had the answers, but minute by minute, the hall was getting smaller, the pillars in-between the stained-glass windows beginning to close in on her, and her stomach beginning to churn in that horrible way that it always did when she knew she was about to lose control. She didn’t realise, but black mascara was beginning to spill down onto the paper, filling in the blanks where her answers should have been.

The room was now so small that she couldn’t take it anymore, and she stood up, dashing for one of the doors where one of the invigilators tried to block her from exiting. “Excuse me, you can’t-”

“I’m going to be sick,” She mumbled, flinging the great doors open in front of her to reveal a freezing January afternoon, the sun already beginning to set at 3pm. She shivered as she ran into the upper school block in an attempt to find her phone which she had left in her bag.

“Matilda Styles, why aren’t you in your exam,”

She jumped as her stern-faced head of year appeared directly in front of her, who was now angrily looking down at the phone Tilly was holding in her hand. “And you know you’re not allowed your phone out during the school-”

“I don’t care!” Tilly shouted as she turned around and began to sprint in the other direction towards the girls’ toilets, covering her hands as she realised what she had just said. Although most people including her generally despised her head of year, she had never once spoken back to a teacher in her nearly thirteen years at school, yet in the haze of it all, she just had. She heard the heavy footsteps following her down the hallway, but she didn’t care. She needed Harry, because Harry could fix anything like this. He always knew what to do.

----

“Sorry guys, we’re going to have to stop for a minute,” Harry sighed, his phone vibrating in one hand, whilst he held his guitar in the other. “Tilly’s calling me,”

He placed the guitar down on its stand before rushing out of the recording studio and pressing answer.

“Hey baby, how was your History exam? Did you finish early?”

He could hear her struggling breaths through the phone. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do, I’ve failed, I ran out, I-”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. Do you need me to come and get you?”

Her breaths were getting deeper by the second, as she couldn’t get the words out to answer him. “Tilly?” He gulped, beginning to feel sick himself. “Have you got your inhaler, baby?”

He could hear her fumbling around inside her handbag. “I think so, I,”

“Take deep breaths with it. I’m going to come and get you as soon as I can, but meanwhile you need to go and find someone and let them know whilst I’m on my way. You’ll do that, won’t you baby?”

Her hair was now stuck to the sides of her face with tears. “Okay, Daddy,”

“Okay, baby. I love you so much, you know that, don’t you?”

-------

He found her huddled up on an armchair in the corner of the school medical room, her face still pale, clutching tightly at the paper cup of water in her hand. Her red blazer was draped over her lap, but she still shivered as he placed his palm to her face and stroked it across her cheek, whilst taking the chair next to her.

“My gorgeous girl,” he whispered into her ear, his minty breath trailing across her neck. “How are you feeling,”

“I feel like shit,” she mumbled, her eyes still red rimmed and glossy from crying. “I didn’t write anything. I’ve failed,”

“That doesn’t matter, lovey. I want to know how you’re feeling, in yourself,” he smiled, willing him to look into his eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I don’t know, the room just got really small and I got really hot, and then I felt sick, and then I got up and I ran out, and I don’t know,” she began to cry, burrowing her head in his chest. “It was horrible,”

“I bet, baby, it sounds like it,” he soothed. “But these things are sent to try us, aren’t they? And it’s only a mock,”

“But I’ve failed Daddy, and I worked so hard,”

“I’m sure you can re-do it, baby. But you’re starting to worry me. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this, is it?” he asked her, now tipping her chin up to face him from where she was avoiding his eye contact. “Is it?” He asked again.

“I don’t need to go again, Dad,” she whimpered. “I hated it. She just asked me all these weird questions, and it made me cry,”

“But you only tried it once, lovey,” He exhaled slowly. “Therapy takes a long time to work,”

“I don’t need therapy, Dad!” she cried. “I’m not crazy!”

“I’m not saying that, T. I go to therapy, and I’m not crazy, am I? Lots of people go. You never know, it could help you,”

“But I’m frightened, Daddy,” she breathed.

He smoothed her hair from her face before peppering a kiss to her forehead. “Frightened of what?”

“I like it when it’s me telling you things,” she whispered. “You always get it. What if they don’t get it?”

“I can go with you, lovey, if it makes you feel better,” he soothed. “But it would really make me proud if you could give it one more go, for me, and I will make sure all this exam business is sorted, you don’t need to worry. I just need you to go home and get some rest, because I know you haven’t slept in days,”

“Okay, Dad,” she moaned. “If you say so,”

He kissed her again. “Good. You know no matter what a stupid exam says, I will always be so proud of you, okay?”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #harry styles dad #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #stmf

[tooneys-russo]

You Decided For Us

Plot: Riley and Alessia have a messy history. Now that Alessia is back in the UK can they work out their issues?

Previous Parts: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The next morning Riley woke up in Leah’s bed with the blonde next to her. She remembered coming home to Leah waiting for her, she was still crying and immediately collapsed into Leah’s arms. Leah never said anything in judgment of Riley, all she did was take the girl to her bed and lay with her until she fell asleep. Riley rubbed her eyes and went downstairs, she felt the hangover immediately as her head throbbed and her stomach churned. She went to the kitchen and began cooking some pancakes and eggs for when Leah woke up. It wasn’t long after the smell started spreading through their house that Leah was downstairs sitting at the island bench. “Do you want to talk about it?” Leah asked cautiously. “Well, Alessia and the United girls were at the pub. We got into it again. I kissed Ella, then Alessia kissed me. That’s it.” Riley slid over a plate of food to Leah. “Wait, you kissed Ella? As in Ella Toone?” Leah shoved half a pancake in her mouth. “Yeah. Just to prove a point that I could kiss anyone and it’s not hard to hook up with someone.” Riley grabbed a cup of coffee and a plate then sat next to Leah. “Shit. Then Less kissed you?” Riley nodded in confirmation. The two ate in silence then got ready to head to training. 

Riley stood up in front of the team before they headed out to start. “Hey everyone. Just quickly before we get started. I want to apologise for my behaviour at the game against United. I had some issues with Alessia that got out of hand and I was reckless and that led to the team being punished. I promise you that after my suspension I will be better for this team, I will give you guys everything. I am so sorry again.” The girls came over to the girl and wrapped her in a team hug. Jill pulled Riley to the side. “I never knew that there was something between you. If I had known I never would have.” Riley smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s ancient history with Alessia, I am sorry you got caught in the middle.” 

During training Riley pushed herself as hard as she could, nearly vomiting by the end of the session. “Riley, come have a chat with me.” Jonas called out to the midfielder and she followed him to his office. They sat down and Jonas smiled at her. “Very brave to admit you messed up. You know I want you all to be the best that you can be, I know for a fact that you are on your way to being one of the best in the game and I want you to live up to that. You can’t play this weekend but you can after Christmas. In that time I have set you up with the psychologist here, there is no pressure there is a standing appointment once a week on Tuesday at 3pm. When you are ready they will sit with you and you can talk about anything you need.” Riley looked down ashamed. “Hey Riley, this is not a bad thing or a criticism. I just want you to keep your head, a few yellow cards is fine but what happened on the weekend wasn’t you. We want the old Riley, the one who lights up the stadium and makes girls question every move they make. The appointment is there whenever you want it, I will not know if you do or don’t go only you will. You aren’t in trouble, we just want to take care of you.” Riley nodded and stood up. “I am sorry Jonas. For it all. I will be better and I will think about your offer.” Jonas stood up. “You are harder on yourself than I could ever be. Head home and have a safe Christmas.” Riley walked out to a waiting Leah and Katie, they took her to the dining room and made sure she ate. Riley didn’t say much, trying to keep her head down and just eat. 

Lotte came over and sat close to Riley. “Hey, I heard what happened. Look I know you probably forgot but we have the good peeps dinner in a few days. We can keep you two separate but I would totally get if you didn’t want to come.” Riley shook her head. “No, I want to see everyone before we have our Christmas break.” Lotte smiled and rubbed Riley’s back. “Perfect, I know Georgia wants to see you.” Riley smiled softly. 

The day of the Good Peeps dinner Riley, Leah, Georgia and Lotte had gone to breakfast to try and relax Riley just a little. As soon as Georgia saw Riley she jumped onto her wrapping herself around her fellow midfielder. “I have missed you so much!” Georgia kissed Riley on her forehead. “My sweet little Gooner.” Riley laughed hard at Georgia’s reaction. “Hi G. It’s good to see you too, my little Bayern Babe.” Riley lowered Georgia and hugged Lotte hello. They all sat down and ordered some food, Riley got pancakes with hash browns, Lotte got an omelet, Leah and Georgia got a full English breakfast. Lotte and Leah were talking about the upcoming games after Christmas, Georgia took the distraction to lean over to Riley. “Hey, I’ll protect you tonight.” Riley smiled. “Thanks G. Appreciate it but she won’t come near me I don’t think. But I do have to apologise to Ella for kissing her. I shouldn’t have done that.” Georgia laughed. “Hey was she at least a good kisser?” Riley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s Ella she’s good at everything.”

Riley and the girls were getting ready for dinner, Riley settled on a dark green short sleeve button up shirt with tan skinny pants and white converse. They got into a cab together and turned up to dinner, Ellie, Ella and Alessia were already there. Alessia was holding flowers and sitting nervously at one end of the table between Ella and Ellie. She stood up as Riley, Lotte and Georgia walked in. The girls all greeted each other, Riley avoided Alessia and walked past her to sit down diagonally to her. Alessia kept her eyes on Riley as the girls began to catch up. “Oi Less who the flowers for?” Georgia asked the blonde. Alessia bit her lip. “They are for Riley, to apologise for everything.” She handed the flowers over, Riley took them from the blonde. “Thank you Alessia.” The ice was broken slightly as the girls began to reminisce about their time in the youth age groups. 

At the end of dinner Alessia had a quick chat to Georgia and Lotte as they headed outside to meet Riley. The brunette turned around to see the blonde walking over. Lotte and Georgia watched the interaction closely, Alessia begging them to give them a minute together. “Can we talk?” Riley sighed and looked down. “Yeah sure. What do you want to talk about?” Alessia ran her fingers through her hair. “I want to apologise for what happened the other night. Also for the shit I did all those years ago. I swear to you that I never wanted to lose you, I think we were perfect together and I ruined it. I should have talked to you, maybe it could have worked. But Riley please know I truly care about you and I want us to go back to how it was.” Riley looked at the girl, anger beginning to rise inside her. “How it was? What when we were dating? Or when we were flirting? Or before I ever met you? Because that one sounds perfect.” Alessia clenched her jaw at Riley’s reply. “I just want us to be something, more than whatever this is.” Riley stepped back. “I will be civil around you, but we can’t be anything more. There is just too much pain. I am sorry.” Alessia nodded. “I can settle for that.” Riley walked past Alessia with her flowers and met up with Lotte and Georgia. She quickly grabbed Ella’s wrist. “I am so sorry for kissing you the other night.” Ella shrugged. “Hey I’m not mad about it at all. You are a great kisser.” Riley laughed and hugged the girl goodbye. 

Riley put her flowers in a vase as soon as she got home, they were gorgeous she couldn’t deny it. Leah didn’t push to ask how the dinner went, she had Lotte and Georgia update her on what went down. Riley went straight to bed and looked through some older pictures of their group thinking about what they had all gone through to get to where they were. 

Alessia was miserable for the week leading up to Christmas, she and Lotte had met up while Alessia was staying with her parents and they went to Winter Wonderland. They walked around having some mulled wine and some rum eggnog. They were certainly a little buzzed when Alessia caught sight of a familiar brunette. “Riley is here.” Alessia began walking towards her and Lotte grabbed her hand. “No way.” Lotte quickly said. It then registered to Alessia that Riley was there with Hayley Raso, the Australian had her arm around Riley’s waist as they laughed together. “What the fuck?” Alessia looked at Lotte. “How long has that been going on?” Lotte shrugged. “I think it is only their first date, look just leave them be. She is happy.” Alessia groaned and watched the pair as they laughed and took a couple pictures. It was killing Alessia to watch another girl make Riley smile like that, she saw them going to the ferris wheel and turned away. It was breaking her heart seeing the one who got away be claimed by someone else, someone who would appreciate her. Alessia tried to focus on Lotte and them having fun but it was difficult with Riley being so close but so unattainable. 

That night there were pictures online of Hayley and Riley together, including one of them kissing. Alessia saw these and immediately messaged Ella telling her. ‘I am happy for her. About time she met someone Less, try to be happy for her please.’ Alessia rolled her eyes and went onto Riley’s instagram seeing that she had posted pictures from the Winter Wonderland but none featured Hayley, that made her a little happy considering she wasn’t broadcasting them together. Alessia liked the post and turned off her phone to avoid seeing more happy pictures of Riley with Hayley. No one had made Riley smile like that since Alessia all those years ago.

Chapter 3

#alessia russo #woso #woso community #woso fanfiction #woso fanfics #woso fic

[emetogirl]

Hello again, this is Emi! (The anon who recently revealed her emeto kink to her very open minded girlfriend). We still haven't done anything with it intentionally, but something spicy did happen while we were on vacation. Heads up, as this one is NSFW!

It was pride and we had been drinking since 3pm. In the evening, we ended up at a club and continued drinking + dancing + doing shots. When we paused for a quick pee break, we both realized that we had a little too much. While waiting in line for the bathroom, we decided to do a "tactical puke" to prevent something messier from happening later on in the evening. Apparently she does what she refers to as "stealth pukes" somewhat frequently when out drinking, but never tells anyone because she's shy.

She seemed a bit hesitant to do it in front of me because she hates other people seeing her weak, but the line to the bathroom was long and going in together made the most sense. When we got into the bathroom, she immediately pinned me against the wall and started making out with me. I wrapped one leg around her waist and she slipped her hand under my dress and got to work with her fingers. After a few moments she pulled back and with a completely calm face says "Ok, I need to throw up now" and proceeded to do so. Out of respect for her, I looked away the whole time but gently rubbed her back while she heaved. While she went to the sink to wash up, I decided it was my turn. I had a lot of trouble bringing anything up (still not experienced at making myself throw up), so she came over to my side and stuck her fingers down my throat. I started gagging a lot and my stomach began churning like crazy so I moved her hand away. She let me take over and I was finally able to puke. While she was washing her hands, she called over "good girl, that's it. Get it all out. You're doing such a good job, baby" while I was emptying my stomach.

After we both got cleaned up, we returned to the dance floor and had an amazing night. Later on, she admitted to me that no one had ever seen her "stealth puke" before, and that she felt closer to me. Even though it was a rather saucy encounter, it made me feel so much love and appreciation for her as a partner. When I think about it now I just get overwhelmed with warm fuzzy feelings 🥰

AWE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! also… HOT🔥🔥🔥

#emeto #emetophilia #irl sick #irlsickstory #vomit tw #emeto tw

[therealpontius]

Are you dunn yet? (Pt3) ~ hit me with your best shot

You wake up, your head pounding and crust at the side of your lips "oh shit" you hear coming out your mouth as you remember you have work at 1pm, it was 11am so you better get up. As you stood you felt your stomach churn and gargle like a beast, making you feel ill. The walk to the bathroom seemed miles away.

The time was 12:30 and you had to walk to steve-os apartment to get your car back, you left, ripped blue jeans and your trainspotting shirt on. The walk was shameful, still obviously ill, feeling like every eye that passed you was on you. You arrived outside steve-os to see him throwing up over his small balcony, he waves and smiles "morning steve-o!" You act like you hadnt just saw his sick fall "morning potato lady!"

Mötley crüe came on the radio and your fingers drummed on the wheel to the beat, reminding you of your childhood. Arriving at work you say and mentally prepared yourself, okay maybe it wasnt the worst job in the world but you where still hung over. "Kick start my heart hope it never stops" you sing quitely, walking into the back door to take over for your co-worker "max im here!" Your co-worker walked into the back "hey y/n!" You exchanged a quite hug "right as much as if love to stay i need to go, moms at the hospital"  "oh shit sorry to hear, see ya later buddy. Best wishes for your mom" with a nod max left and you walked to the bar.

Your regulars sat around, all old men but every one like a friend "hey guys!" They all turn and wave. The bar usually gets packed full at 2 so you started preparing, extra booze ready, more clean glasses than you will probably need and a ton of smoked peanuts under the desk

"Preparing for the war?" You look up hearing a younger voice, not the usual harsh been-smoker-since-nine voice. You look up with a smile to be met with ryan. Your smile dropped "oh hey" he raises his eyebrow "what? Expecting someone else?" "No, are you ordering?" He sighs at your obvious cheek "yeah just two miller lights" you nod, turning your back to pick them up "$3.86 please" he nods back and gives you the money, staying on the uncomfortable stool "so um, why you mad at me?" He cracket the can open and lifted it to his lips, maintaining eye-contact "mad? Im not mad?" You play dumb "cmon im not stupid, im not a bad guy so im not getting it" you sighed "you sure?" He nods "the bars going to get buisy soon so. Hit me with your best shot sweetheart" you rolled your eyes at him "you charmed me dunn" you lent on the bar, faces just inches apart. He smiled slyly "did i?" "So i spent two days trying to find you, i had to try get my number onto steve-os phone while he was shoving powder up his nose." Ryan made a sarcastic sour face "then when i meet you you are with this chick, acting like your girlfriend so i can only assume your a cheating fuck. Thats not it, when i showed you that you won on the ticket you gave me you took it but you didn't celebrate with me, you left with her with the money basically i won" he looked a little guilty "yeah maybe that was shit" he admitted "yeah maybe" you took your face away from him and stood back at the bar

"But maybe she wasnt my girl" you looked back up at him "yeah?" "Who knows potato lady"

"RY RY" you hear a high pitched screech behind him "theres your lady dunn" you walk away to the other end of the bar as lucy wrapped her arms around him, the look of annoyince on his face.

The time was 3pm and the bar was full with old men who had just came back from the golf, ryan and lucy still sat, laughing there heads off. No one had ordered in awhile so you sat back.

5pm rolled by and the pub settled, the regulars stayed and so did ryan and that bimbo with the god awful voice. Ryan made his way over to the bar "two millers and a vodka coke please" you nod and get him the drinks but he stays for awhile "you doing okay?" "Im fine ryan just tired and your girls voice is giving me a headache" he nods "same" "RY RY HURRY UP" she struts over, he heads back to the table "stay away from my man you slut" she whispers, leaving you speachless. You just wanted to punch her annoying face and humble her, oh fucking christ you would do it for free.

*RING*

You jump, breaking your violent trance

"hello?"

"Hey dude what you doing?" It was steve-o

"Just working"

"Where im bored"

You laugh "at the hazy pint spot, ryan and his girl are here, your welcome to come round, i can use some company"

"Say no more potato lady"

He hangs up and leaves you giggling, that names so stupid

30 minutes later steve-o and chris waltz in "hey potato lady!" Chris exclaims, running to the bar stool "my names y/n" he shrugged his shoulders "potato lady sounds better" steve-o sits down after him "hey dude!" Ryan walks over with lucy "hey idiots what you doing here?" "We are visiting y/n" chris said giving you a wink "your welcome to come sit with us if you want" he offers "that will be right, fuck off dunn let me see my friends" you say light heartedly and you all laugh "we will maybe see you later" steve-o added as ryan and lucy walked back to their booth.

"Boys youll never believe what lucy said" you whispered bringing them in closer, big grins on their faces "what?" Chris asks, getting exited "ryan was ordering drinks and she yelled for him to come back, when he did she came up to me and whispered in my ear 'stay away from my man you slut' " chris and steve-o burst out laughing causing the whole bar to look over "she did? Seriously?" Steve-o asked loud. you put your hand over his mouth "shhhh" you whisper, a grin on your face "NO Y/N" chris shouts before you feel a slobbery tongue lick your hand, you dry heave running for a sink "don't cover my mouth, i will lick it" steve-o said loudly so you could hear.

6 oclock was when your shift finished, amy came in, you two got along well. "Hey potato lady wanna drink?" You nod "why not" you sit at ryans booth with steve-o and chris and a pint of cider "so what is your life like? What do you get up to" steve-o asks "god this is embarrassing, I usually get up super early and like go shopping at like 9" they all look shocked "i could never" ryan adds "thats just strange" chris says and they all chime in agreeing. "Yeah i could never either im just always drinking and hanging out with the boys" lucy adds making everyone clearly cringe "tough listen" you laugh, steve-o and chris laugh along "you got beef?" Lucy squares up, you held back a laugh by how stupid she looked "no lucy, it was a clear joke" she sighed and stood up "see you later ryan, have fun with your side chick" she stormed off

"Y/n what the fuck?" Ryan sounded pissed "shes a bitch"steve-o says between fake coughs "y/n did you tell him what she said?" Chris asks, looking up from his beer. Ryans face dropped "what? What did she say?" You roll your eyes " she said 'stay away from my man you slut'" steve-o laughs "what? when?" "When she screamed at you to go back to the seats" ryan sits back and looks at you blankly "she wasnt shouting at me, shes just loud. I need that though, anyway i better go check on her"

You exchanged glances with the boys "she has him wrapped around her finger" steve-o broke the silence "yup hes a goner, bam told me they werent even dating" chris added making steve-o shocked "really? He must really like her then. hey y/n dont you like him?" you shrugged "yeah but you know, thats life. We had a chat before and he was being so smug" chris raised his eyebrow "thats unlike him"

You got home at 9pm.....

#jackass #chris pontius #wildboyz #bam margera #mtv jackass #viva la bam #steve o #cky #fanfic #ryan dunn #johnny knoxville #dickhouse #spotify

[fruitycasket]

Movie Night

Summary: Chase goes over to Henrik’s house to watch a movie.

Word Count: 3,444

Notes: Yet another case of “I liked it when I first wrote it but now I don’t know”. It’s up on my Ao3, too (RottenFruitz) but I don’t feel like linking it right now.

Chase got Henrik’s text in the morning. Really early in the morning. Four AM. He didn’t see it until eight, of course: Hey, we should hang out again today. Can you come over later? We can watch a movie and eat something.

He squinted at the message for a long while, mostly because his messaging app was so bright against the darkness of his room, but also because he was considering the offer. It was one of many Henrik had been sending him since they’d reunited. He accepted sometimes. A lot of times he didn’t.

Chase's instinct was to be suspicious. Guys like Henrik didn't hang out with guys like him, even if they'd been close friends before. But just as he had typed out no, i don’t think today is good, he hesitated.

No, no Henrik is nice. Tentatively, he told himself Henrik enjoyed his company. Henrik wanted to get to know him. Henrik had missed him. And now, with Jack comatose and Chase in a worse headspace than ever before, he wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself.

His thumb hovered over the send button.

You’re a terrible friend, he chastised himself, All he wants to do is check up on you, to talk, to have fun. It’s not like you have a lot of time left to put it off.

Chase changed his response: okay, i’ll be over at like 3pm or something

Henrik was pleased with the answer: That’s fine by me. I’ll get us burgers and sodas. They’re on me.

And he was buying food? Again?

Chase sat up and rubbed his eyes. This wouldn’t be so bad after all, something to eat other than sandwiches and microwave dinners would be nice. There wasn’t much else in his fridge, aside from the milk, eggs, cheese, and ham Henrik had bought for him upon seeing how barren it was.

Still, he could’ve gone without Henrik holding it over his head, trying to use it to entice Chase over to his house or out to a restaurant when he wasn’t feeling up to it. It was… whatever. He was willing to trade food for a favor but if that was what Henrik wanted out of him, why not just say so up front? Must’ve been worried Chase would refuse the food. Like he would ever be so stubborn.

Chase spent the next six hours loafing. Lying in bed, slowly getting dressed, having a bite to eat so he wasn’t completely starving, playing video games, then scrolling through all his social medias until he was in so deep he was only roused by a familiar nausea.

It distracted him for a second. He thought maybe he could ignore it, that it would go away on its own like it sometimes did, but it kept coming in waves. First mild and annoying, then steadily growing urgent and painful until the telltale pre-vomit wetness in his mouth was impossible to ignore.

It felt like he’d eaten a thousand pounds of food in the span of thirty minutes, like his stomach was too full. He could hear it and feel it, something heavy in his abdomen, roiling and churning, crawling up his throat like it was alive. Reflexively he touched his upper lip. His fingers came back bloody.

“Ah, shit,” Chase grunted. He stood, abandoning his phone to sprint into his bathroom and vomit.

He had pretty much nothing in his stomach. Once the butter-sandwich had come up it was nothing but acid and blood.

And it was not normal blood.

It was viscous, dark, writhing, like a bunch of oozy slugs all glued together by their own slime, restlessly swimming over and around each other.

The first time it’d happened he was too intoxicated to think much of it. It was probably a fever dream or a hallucination.

But then it happened again, and again, and the blood was real, the nausea was real. And sometimes it oozed from his eyes and nose, and then he realized.

He was dying. That had to be it. He felt fine, but no fine person throws up blood every now and then, and definitely not in such large amounts.

He went to a doctor. They didn’t find anything wrong, by all accounts his health was perfect (liver and brain aside), and with no way to predict when he would start bleeding and throwing up, he couldn’t show them what was going on. For all they knew, he was just hallucinating it.

After that, Chase decided not to tell anyone. He couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t know when it would kill him, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have said anything. Why would he? So everyone could spend the next however-many days leading up to it being miserable?

It was part of the reason he changed his mind. Henrik ought to have some nice memories of him that weren’t from highschool. He wasn’t fond of who he was then, more so than who he was now. And if Henrik was going to lose two friends so close together…

Chase grimaced. He stared into the blood at the bottom of his toilet bowl. His muddy reflection stared back with red eyes and huge pupils. It was almost smiling, the shimmering lines crooking his mouth upward as if it was amused at his impending death.

He hated that stupid face and its stupid smile and its stupid whispery voice. Not that it actually talked, but he imagined it did sometimes. It had nothing to say today, though.

Chase cleaned his toilet to the best of his ability, then changed clothes just to be safe.

It was time to go to Henrik’s house.

Before he could think of an excuse to duck out, Chase left his apartment.

The trip there had him antsy. Every time he got the chance, he checked his text messages to make sure he really had been invited.

Henrik was too nice for a beat up person like Chase, and so was his house. It was weird sitting inside it, even Stacy’s place wasn’t so… pristine (but that was probably because Henrik didn’t have kids running around). Wouldn’t it be suspicious for the neighbors? Would they even care? He inspected his head scars with the pads of his fingers. Why would they be suspicious? They make me look cool, he told himself, And they’re conversation starters.

Yeah, really terrible ones, the cynical part of him sneered, You want to tell Henrik how you got that ear blasted off?

No. No he didn’t.

Chase got to Henrik’s front door thirty minutes late.

He took a breath before he knocked. Positive thoughts, Brody, positive thoughts. You're not going to screw this up. You're not going to puke blood all over your friend's house. You're not bothering him, he asked you to come here.

The door opened and out stepped Henrik, smiling. “Chase, I was worried you wouldn’t show. Come in.”

“Sorry,” Chase stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed behind.

“Don’t be, that you came at all is good enough.”

Yeah, right. Chase tried to ignore the thought. “Um, cool. So, like… the movie and the food and stuff…”

“Oh, of course,” Henrik led him into the living room and patted his nice leather couch, “You just sit and let me get everything.” He looked… sort of angry? For a second. “And I’m guessing you didn’t eat breakfast, either.”

“I did eat something, actually,” Chase said a little angrier than he meant to, “A sandwich.”

“Oh? Good.” Henrik was already in the kitchen by the time he said that, so Chase couldn’t get a read on whether he was being serious. His voice was sort of flat, and with a kitchen wall between them and no facial expressions to read…

He thinks you’re a child, that you can’t take care of yourself. And he’s right.

Chase grumbled. No, good things only. Nothing’s wrong. He meant to be nice, obviously.

Henrik returned with two warm, unlabeled paper bags and two bottles of soda. “I just ordered what you had last time,” he said as he handed Chase his food, “And I figured we could find something to watch while we ate.”

“Oh, sure,” Chase said. He ate as soon as the bag was in his lap.

Henrik sat beside him and grabbed a remote to turn the TV on, but he never took his eyes off Chase.

“What?” Chase’s face got warm. Oh god, he was eating like a pig, wasn’t he?

“Nothing, it’s just. I thought if you’d had breakfast you’d be less hungry.”

“It wasn’t a big breakfast.”

“Mm,” Henrik leaned back, “I’ll find something while you do that.”

Chase started staring at the carpet. He ate slower this time, savoring every bite and sip until he was left with an empty plastic bottle and greasy paper bag.

By then, Henrik had picked some random underdog sports movie and was looking at Chase again. “That wasn’t really the first thing you ate today, was it?”

“You can’t take my word for it?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Henrik furrowed his brows, “I’m just worried about you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, it wasn’t, I mean,” Chase stuttered, “It’s not about you, I just like time by myself sometimes.”

“Of course, I know that. But with work in the way, it’s hard to check in on you all the time…” He took a sip of his own soda.

“Yeah, I get it,” Chase tossed his trash onto the coffee table and made himself comfortable. “I can take care of myself, though.”

“You can, but I don’t know how often you do,” Henrik sighed, “How about we forget it, for now?”

Chase noticed his shoulders were tense and relaxed. “Yeah. Let’s just hang out.”

They didn’t talk for a while, but Chase was fine with that. He was reminded of years gone by, where he and Henrik and Jack would pop into a fast food place and eat in silence for a little while. If it was rainy or cold outside, all the better.

The movie faded into background noise as Chase kept thinking, not about anything in particular, and not about anything particularly bad. This was nice, he was right to come. He was comfortable enough that he could’ve fallen asleep.

And he had to go and make it awkward.

Chase spoke before as he thought and regretted it immediately, "You didn't really buy me food just to force me into hanging out with you, did you?"

Henrik stared at him, took a sip of his drink, then spoke, "Well, no…"

Part of Chase was relieved, though he couldn't put his finger on why. "What'd you want, then?"

"Chase," Henrik frowned, "I was just being nice. Did anything I say earlier make you think"—

"Nah. I mean. Um," he was making it worse, "I'm just not used to it, that's all. Thanks."

“You’re welcome.” Henrik paused to look him over. There was a minute twitch in his face, nothing Chase could really pin down as one emotion or another. Concern, maybe? “Don’t fall asleep now.”

“But I’m not…” but he was. Chase was drowsy.

It occurred to him that this was unusual, how could he be so tired so suddenly, at three in the afternoon?

But he was always tired, wasn't he? He'd sometimes spend days off in bed for hours, too winded to move from the moment he woke up. This was just unfortunate timing, and, well he couldn't drive home.

Chase didn’t like doing it, not to someone he’d only just started properly hanging out with, but he wasn't too proud to ask to sleep on the couch than risking sleepily stumbling his way home.

"Henrik?" Chase found he was so tired his words slurred, "I'm really... you wouldn't mind if I...?" That wasn't a full sentence, he had to—but he was nodding off, he was too tired—he could barely keep his eyes open, much less lift his tongue.

There was a hand on his shoulder and a comforting voice and the feeling of being laid down, and then Chase was asleep.

Chase woke up in an unfamiliar place, a part of Henrik’s house he’d never seen before. It was chilly, and he was tucked into a warm, soft bed, in a sparsely decorated but otherwise nice room. It even had a bathroom.

Why wasn’t he on the couch?

His first thought was that Henrik had taken him to a guest room to spend the night. He would have been fine in the living room, but whatever.

Chase reached for his phone to see what time it was. It was nowhere to be found, not in his pocket or anywhere in the room he was in.

Okay, well, maybe Henrik had it charging, or something… Chase looked for any outlets in his room and found none, so his phone would need to be left in a different room to charge. He calmed down at the discovery. Henrik was just being nice, that was all.

Chase went for the door, turned the handle, and the door—the door, it—

The door didn’t—it wasn’t opening.

Why wasn’t it opening?

Chase was confused at first. He tried to unlock it, but there was no lock on this side of the door. He stepped back, took a breath, tried to think of a logical, not terrifying explanation.

Maybe the door was stuck. Maybe Henrik had company over, and he didn’t want some washed-up highschool friend sitting on his couch making things awkward. Maybe he thought Chase would try to steal something.

Chase tried the door again. His heart started to race. He knocked.

“Henrik!” he shouted.

No answer.

“Henrik?”

Nothing again.

Maybe he wasn’t home.

That was weird. Why would he lock Chase in a room and then leave?

He clung stubbornly to his last line of thought. Maybe he really was trying to keep him from stealing something while he ran an errand. Henrik was being begrudgingly nice to poor old Chase Brody, and had panicked when he suddenly had to stay over, and then locked him in this room to keep all his valuables safe.

A dick move, a majorly dick move, but okay.

Chase could handle that, he would just wait until Henrik got home and then leave and never talk to him again. That was all. That was easy.

He looked for a clock. There was none. And there were no windows, either, so no way to tell time based on the sky. He looked for anything that wasn’t a nightstand, a bed, and a rug, and found nothing.

His heart raced now.

He tried the door again. When that didn’t work he kicked it, hard. And then he screamed, “HENRIK!”

Silence.

Chase kicked the door, again. Again. Again.

It didn’t move an inch.

He should be able to do this, he was reasonably strong, wasn’t he? Maybe he was still full of drugs.

Chase paused.

Drugs.

He rubbed his temples as he recalled everything that had led up to this. He thought about Henrik’s insistence over the past week or so (“Chase, you should come over today! No, only today. Today’s the only day I’m free. Please? It’s been so long!”). He’d even brought up the groceries, after a point (“And after I paid for that food, you owe me one.”). It was never about a movie and catching up and getting close again.

Chase slumped against the door. There was no point in fooling himself, he knew exactly what had happened.

You’re a dumbass, Chase, he pressed his palms against his eyes, Did you think he really liked you? That he helped you for no reason? That he didn’t want something from you?

If it had been anyone else, you would have known. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t be here right now, you’d be home.

He tried the door one last time. Tried to open it, tried to break it, tried to scream for help.

Nothing.

It was like he’d had a bottle smashed over his head. He stumbled, dazedly back to the bed to wait. He hadn’t told anybody he’d be going here. Why would he? Henrik was… he was supposed to be a friend.

He tried not to think of why he was here, of what Henrik would do to him when he came back, if he’d ever get out. 

He failed.

Not only did he fail, he started thinking about Bri. He thought of what she would do when she realized her dad wasn’t coming to visit like he promised to, when she realized he wasn’t just nursing a hangover for a while—when she realized he was really gone.

Would anyone even look for him?

No, not for anyone living, anyway. They would think he’d…

That he’d…

Chase was distracted from the thought by the sound of a door nearby opening. Tentatively, he stepped towards his door and listened.

Footsteps, somewhere above him at first, then moving down, coming closer, growing louder until Henrik’s shoes cast two narrow shadows in the space between the door and the floor. Chase stepped back. His breath caught in his throat.

For a moment he thought he could escape. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, he could wait for Henrik to open the door and escape. He started to tiptoe back. His head was light as air, deprived of oxygen, but he refused to breathe until he had gotten to his bed.

One, two, three, Chase counted in his head, four, almost, almost… five…

“Chase?”

Shit.

Chase didn’t answer. He froze, afraid that his footsteps would give him away.

“You’re awake.”

Fuck.

Maybe it was just a good guess? Maybe maybe maybe—he kept fruitlessly hoping Henrik would open the door to check anyways.

He knew. He did not open the door.

“Don’t make this hard, please,” Henrik stepped closer and sat down. Almost his entire shadow filled the space between the door and the ground.

Chase gave in. Henrik was still his friend, right? Well, this wasn’t what friends did to each other but Henrik could still consider them friends, and if he behaved, he might let him go. “Henrik,” he said.

“Come sit by me.”

Chase listened. “Okay. I’m here now.”

“How are you doing?” Henrik asked.

Chase glared. He balled his hands into fists in his lap as he spoke, “Fine. A little tired, I don’t know.” He paused. “Did you…?”

“I… I put sedatives in your food,” Henrik seemed to be fidgeting behind the door, “I’m sorry.”

Chase knew it was true, he’d already figured it out, but hearing it come from Henrik’s mouth still hurt. The apology didn’t soften the blow.

“Can you unlock the door?” Chase asked. He winced immediately after. Too soon.

“No.”

Chase stood. “Why the hell not?!” Then he realized he was in no position to be getting snippy with his captor and corrected his tone, “Was it something I did?”

Henrik mumbled for a moment, then raised his voice, “I know you’re sick.”

“What,” Chase would have laughed if he wasn’t so scared, “You—you what? That’s why you did this to me?”

“Yes. it might seem cruel”—

“Henrik,” Chase cut him off, “Let me out. I’m sorry I lied to you but I just didn’t want you to worry, it was stupid, I know.”

“No.”

“This isn’t funny, Henrik!”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Henrik said. His tone was even, clinical. “I want to help you. I know how this ends, Chase, it ends with you like Jack, and I can’t let that happen.”

“You don’t know that! I-I don’t—but, why? Why can’t you let me out?” Chase’s voice shuddered and broke in spite of his effort to control it.

“You’ll run away. You won’t get help.”

“I won’t run, I’ll go to a doctor. Henrik, please. What about Brianna? She'll wonder where I am, she’ll be worried!”

It took a long time for Henrik to answer. “No.” Chase didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m not going to do anything tonight, I’ll just feed you and let you settle in.”

Chase almost replied snarkily (“I feel so honored.”) but he clung to hope that Henrik really was planning to let him go. Good behavior would get him out faster. Might get him out faster. Would… hopefully get him out faster…

“I’m going to make you better, I promise. It’ll take time, but you’ll thank me when it’s done.” When Chase was silent again, Henrik sighed. “I’ll talk to you again later.”

And then, his footsteps were getting farther and farther away… 

And then he was gone.

#chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #fanfic #uhm #kidnapping #blood #mild gore #this one is... I don't know how I feel about it

[subatomicskinny]

today! i suffered 💔. so i got my period yesterday and i had the most unfortunate experience of cramping. in the night i couldn’t sleep cuz i had rlly bad stomach upset. like the churning burn u get when you’ve not eaten anything for 40 hours. i went to bed @ 5.30am. woke up to cramping at around 8am! i’m on a liquid diet till wednesday/thursday so i drank some mango juice + acv and my stomach got so bad i had to take eno (antacid effervescent drink). i had planned to go to the gym @ 11.30am but i slept until 1.30pm cuz i was exhausted. woke up to cramping again, decided to go to the gym @ 3pm cuz i kept telling myself i HAVE to lift till failure. and i need to run. took painkillers, got 2 the gym and had a blast! i did 4 sets of glute exercises. i feel like the hip abductor didn’t offer me much resistance so i’ll change it to hip thrusts next week. managed to complete my run with some walking although i was NOT feeling it :/ i bought some yoghurt afterwards to drink tomorrow. also tape measure! i drank tree tomato juice from the greengrocers in the mall n i got an annoying tummy ache i had to take more antacid when i got home :( but i’m feeling a tad better now. here’s y workout of the day:

[dalamjisung]

fool me once, fool me twice, part 2 ✿ kim namjoon

genre: angst

word count: 3755

pairing: reader x kim namjoon

description: jisoo just wants things to go back to normal, but can they?

[taglist: @jikooksgirl19 @minhoshi @t-breezy5678 @justdifferentposts @kookiesbuckethat @kalala22 @missseoulite @thelilbutifulthings @shydestinykryptonite @pumkins97 @trifabric @rkivecenter @sweetjellyfishland @tthe-wretched-and-joyful @queen-of-bad-ideas  @floofybread  @chaebb​]

A week is as long as you manage.

Instead of the library, you go to the noisy coffee shop on the corner. Jisoo can’t work there because it’s too loud. Switching from breaks at 3PM to later ones, around 4, you tell Jisoo that you got to studying a bit too late that day and that you needed some more time, but that she could go without you and you’d just get something to eat later. You think it finally clicked for her when you refuse to come over on the weekend. She called you about a barbecue thing Woosung was planning and told you to be there around noon, and before you can even say no, she is on it.

“And I swear to god, Y/N, if you tell me some stupid, bullshit excuse, I’m coming all the way down to your place and we’re having a chat!”

“I–I don’t know what you mean,” You sigh, throwing your bag on the couch and walking around the small kitchen in hopes to distract yourself from the impeding threat of Jisoo’s shortening temper. “I’ve just been busy with the dissertation and all of that.”

“We all have, but that doesn’t mean I’ll disappear from the face of the Earth!” She whines. “If… if you’re busy for whatever reason this weekend, I get that. I really do. But I miss you. I miss my best friend.”

“It’s been a week,” You tease, chuckling even though your heart threatens to break in half.

“Too long,” She answers readily. “This is a last attempt, I guess, but what are you doing tonight?”

Anything, you want to scream, fingers nimbly playing with a loose thread of your sweater. Everything. But you’re not this person. You’re not someone who lies your way out of difficult situations. You evade for a while, you might even run a bit from it, but you never lie… especially not to the people you love. And you are hurt, you are embarrassed, you are, even if just a bit, angry, but Jisoo is one of your best friends and you love her to death.

“… I’d just be editing my essay, but I guess that can wait another day,” You mumble, sighing in defeat. She won. Again. “What were you thinking?”

“Wait,” And it’s the first time you actually hear Jisoo sound incredulous. “Are you serious? You’re free?”

“I’m free,” You chuckle a bit, and a nostalgic fondness starts to bloom on your chest. You remember all the late nights with her, laughing like you’ve never did before, enjoying a youth that wouldn’t be there for long, anymore. You miss that. And you want it back. “Do… do you wanna maybe grad dinner and drinks? We could even dress all fancy like we said we would one day and have a proper night out.”

“For real?!” She squeals on the other side of the line. “You’re not joking, right?” “Nope,” You say. “How about 7, downtown?”

“Sounds perfect!” She says, and after a rushed goodbye for needing enough time to get ready, you too decide to take a long, steaming hot shower.

The water hitting on your back makes you a bit more relaxed, and for a second, you forget this whole situation. You forget Namjoon, or rather how you feel about Namjoon, and you forget how he feels about Jisoo, and it’s just you, and Jisoo, and Namjoon and it’s just simple, and nice, and familial. It’s all normal. But things aren’t like that anymore, and you can’t truly shake the uneasiness away once the cold air hits your skin again, making you shiver. It’s like a forever churning of your stomach, already settled and comfortable, and it doesn’t make you anxious, no– it just makes you sick. And that’s why, minutes before leaving, you invite your flatmate.

“I know you’re going out with your friend, but maybe you both could come?” You suggest, frowning at the ridiculousness of your despair.

“She bailed on me,” Your flatmate shrugs, getting up from where she was playing video-games on the couch. “I’m super down for a girls’ night out… and to not leave you alone with Jisoo.”

“Oh thank god,” You mumble in relief. “Thank you so much, babe.”

“No problem,” She chuckles, and it doesn’t take more than twenty minutes for you two to be out of the house.

Jisoo is waiting for you two right outside the subway station, dressed impeccably as always. Her figure accentuated with her tight black top, you start to get uncomfortable in your own black dress, heads turning to look at her and glance at you.

“Taeyeon is so nice to see you!” Jisoo smiles widely your flatmate, hugging her quickly before moving to trap you in a bone crushing hug. “And you! Miss I’m-So-Busy! I missed you!”

“Missed you too, Soo,” You hug her back, frowning at just how much you actually missed her. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah!” Taeyeon cheers, pulling both you and Jisoo in the direction of the pubs.

It’s easy with Taeyeon there; she is cheerful and easy and she keeps you in check. Having known you for years, Taeyeon is one of the few people that have seen the explosive side of your nature; the one that takes everything– all the hurt, all the offense, all the anger– and spits it right back out. That’s a part of you that you used to keep hidden, that you pushed it down until you could feel the pain of it all… but not anymore. Growing meant adapting and a way to prevent these outbursts of emotion, you found, is by having an honest conversation. An open conversation. One that you couldn’t have right now, because you promised Namjoon you wouldn’t.

And that makes everything else even more complicated. Because you can’t say what you mean, you prefer to not say anything at all, and you let your flatmate lead. Her and Jisoo order drinks but you stay with water, sipping patiently and offering the filler laughter once in a while, not wanting to completely abandon either of your friends with this unresolved issue… even if you can’t stop thinking about it. Even if you can’t stop hurting because of it.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Jisoo asks, hand delicately landing on your arm.

“I’m sorry, what?” You blink, realizing once again that you’ve zoned out.

“I have to go home,” Taeyeon explains looking at the time. Is it 10PM already?, you wonder, frowning at how much time passed you by. “The dog…”

“Yeah, no problem,” You wave your hand. “We–"

“I was wondering if you wanted to stay a bit longer,” Jisoo interrupts, eyes wide with hope. “Just us. We can go to another bar. Talk a bit more.”

All the alarms in your head are sounding, loud and clear. Taeyeon looks at you in surprise, too, not expecting the outburst from your friend; but it’s alright. It’s time.

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug, a I’ll be okay gesture to calm your worried flatmate.

“Are you sure?” Taeyeon asks, not completely reassured as she watches you nervously fidget with your ring.

“Yeah… are you okay to go home by yourself?” You ask, feeling a bit guilty to abandon her after she’s done so much for you.

“Bitch, you go have fun,” She laughs, hugging you. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it, anything.”

You just wink at her, waving as Jisoo pulls you away to your next destination, and only when you can’t see Taeyeon anymore, only after she disappears in the sea of people coming in and out of the subway, that you start getting anxious. Jisoo looks at you in a way that makes you squirm, almost as if she is carefully observing you. And after a beat, you realize she is observing you. She is actually eyeing every move, every expression, every word, and you just wait. Someone has to break and you’ll be damn sure that it won’t be you.

“Have you talked to Namjoon these days?”

And here you go.

“Not really, no…” The pain you feel admitting this out loud is somewhat clear in your voice, and you start to panic. “Sometimes he finds me at the coffee shop near campus and stays to study, but we haven’t really… talked.”

“Hm,” She hums, and the casual tone of her voice, the nonchalantness of her actions– it makes everything worse. “I thought you two were getting close?”

“We are, I think,” You mumble shyly, looking down at the sidewalk passing by your boots. You kick away an empty bottle, watching as rolls away.

“Namjoon and I slept together.”

It happens automatically, like a reflex. “I know.”

And regret hits you just as fast.

Jisoo looks at you with wide eyes, mouth hanging open as an incredulous laugh escapes her. “Well, I didn’t know you guys were that close.”

“We are, I think,” You say once again, letting go of her arm that you hold tightly, choosing to keep your balled, sweaty hands in your pockets.

“Goddammit, Namjoon,“ She chuckles. “I wanted to be the one to tell you!" “Then why didn’t you?”

Her smile fades once she notices you are not laughing with her.

“Y/N–“

“Soo, seriously,” Now you’re the once chuckling. The humor of it all hits you all of a sudden, and you can’t seem to stop giggling, almost like this in an internal joke in between you and the universe. “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you liked him.”

Did you? Did you like him? It all seems so distant now, so far away that you can’t even remember what it felt like when he touched you, hugged you, smiled at you. Somewhere inside, you know you do– like him, that is. It’s like a dying flame in the left side of your chest, a kindle fighting to keep burning, but you step all over it and in a matter of seconds you are numb to it all. It’s not that you don’t feel anything for Namjoon anymore… you just don’t feel anything at all.

“But I didn’t,” Nothing. You feel absolutely fucking nothing, and it frustrates you to no end. You like feeling; you like the ever present thump thump thump of being close to someone you love. Right now, there is no thump thump thump, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of you, or because of her.

“But I thought you did,” She insists, guilt written all over her face. “You talk so much about him, and you thought he was hitting on you and–“

“And you let me think that!” You squeak, voice high pitched in surprise of your outburst. “You let me think that like an idiot, Jisoo! Why?”

“Because I really thought he was hitting on you too!” She explains quickly, and you can feel her starting to panic so you hold back, apologizing for the outburst. “No, I’m the one that’s sorry, Y/N. I really thought he was hitting on you and I didn’t want to ruin your chances, you know?”

That statement is like slap in the face. “My chances?” You scoff, brows shooting up as you turn to face her.

People pass by you two, completely unaware of the tension that forms a bubble around you two, separating you from reality.

“Yeah, you know… you told me before that you don’t get with the same guys as your friends and I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“So you take the choice away from me?” You whisper, taking a step back.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Jisoo holds your arm, voice pleading and mellow. “Please, I know I was an idiot about it, I just really didn’t know how to tell you this after I waited so long and… I’m just sorry.”

It’s the sadness in her voice that makes you believe she truly means what she’s saying. That for once, she’s being real.

“Jisoo, this can never happen again,” You say firmly, although your hands are shaking. “You made an idiot out of me. I feel like a fucking idiot because–“

You stop yourself. She doesn’t need to know this; she doesn’t need to know they gossiping sessions with Taeyeon in front of the TV, where you two gushed over the fact that yes, Namjoon was hitting on you; and yes, Namjoon is hot; and yes, you like Namjoon. No. There’s no need for her to know that.

“I will never do this again!” Her hands are cold as they hold yours, bringing them to her lips where she kisses a promise on your palm. “I promise! Pinky promise!”

Pinky promise, you smile bitterly as she laces her pinky with hers. What would Namjoon do if he found out that I broke my pinky promise?

For the rest of night, Jisoo continues to talk about how Namjoon liked her too much, and how he smiled too much, and how he talked too much, and as she goes on and on, all you can’t think about is that you wouldn’t mind if Namjoon smiled too much, talked too much, liked you too much.

You wouldn’t mind it at all.

—————————————————

A week is as long as you manage, indeed.

The next day, Namjoon texts you. Something about him thinking how good things never come easy and how he thinks he should maybe put a bit more effort into pursuing Jisoo. All you say is that you can’t really say much on it.

does it make you uncomfortable to talk about her with me?

A bit yeah… I just want to stay out of this, you know? I’m close to both of you.

I completely understand! Next time, please tell me sooner, yeah? I would never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N.

You got it. Thanks, Joon!

can I make it up  with a coffee? :D

You try to tell him that no, there’s nothing to make up for and that everything is okay; you try to keep a distance until everything is resolved, buy you can try and try and try again– with Namjoon, it would never work. He is at the coffee shop before you can even tell him you’re close, and when you finally do get there, he is already waiting at a table with your coffee set in front of your chair. It’s endearing, really, how he knows just how you like your drink, and how he makes sure to place a cup of water next to it just so you remember to drink at least a bit of it.

“How do you always get to places before me?” You whine, hugging the tall man hello. “It’s not fair!”

“If you biked, we’d get places at the same time,” He winks, sitting back down.

“If I biked,” You chuckle. “I’d die. You know how clumsy I am!”

“It really worries me how clumsy you are,” Namjoon says, eyes wide and innocent. “You tripped in the library, remember? I thought you had hit your head!”

“What’s so wrong about tripping in the library?” You pout.

“It was on your own feet!” He laughs, stretching over the table to cradle your face in his big hands. “You can’t hurt yourself when I’m not here anymore, you hear me?”

And you swear your heart almost stops.

“Are… are you planning on going somewhere anytime soon?” You ask, clearing your throat from embarrassment. He is so close to you that you are sure he can see your pores, and to fight the urge to just grab his face and pull him to you, you pretend to check your phone, frowning when you notice a message from Jisoo. I’ll check that later, you think to yourself.

His thumb moves to smooth the crease in between your brows, worry growing with his previous statement and following silence.

“You never know,” Namjoon pulls back, eyes moving to his almost empty cup of tea. “You never know where life will take us after this masters is done.”

“Yeah,” You mumble, nodding along just for the sake of doing something. “You never know…”

“Weren’t you the one saying you wanted to go to New York?”

“I mean, yes, but I don’t think it’s going to happen,” There is sadness in your voice, and you know he thinks it is because of New York.

“Don’t limit yourself like that,” His voice is chastising, and you know he means well, but sometimes Namjoon forgets about reality and it drives you insane. His belief in your potential is so much, that he simply thinks you can conquer anything you want just by simply trying. But he doesn’t really understand that you have been trying and that sometimes, trying is not enough.

Sometimes, you are not enough.

“Sorry,” You say automatically. Sipping your coffee slowly, you have more time to really look at him; hair a bit longer than it was when you met him, eyes hooded as he enjoys his tea, skin a bit more tanned thanks to the constant riding of his bike.

The conversation moves on fluidly, as things usually do with Namjoon, and you only go back home in the end of day when the sun is already set. He makes sure that you are safe before routinely turning off all of his electronics and only when you are not focusing on Namjoon anymore, when he allows you to not focus on him anymore, do you realize just how tired you are. It’s a few minutes before falling asleep that you respond Jisoo’s message, promising her a day at the park and some good, old-fashioned picnic food.

That night you dream of a cage, iron enclosures keeping you still and cramped. There is no one with you and when you wake up to your alarm, groggy and confused, there is an uneasiness that follows you for the rest of the day, from when you shower in the morning, until you reach the park where Jisoo, Woosung, and Lia waited for you. Everything from then on is… careful. You watch out for your words, your movements, your glances; nothing free and light as it used to be and you are not sure why you are suddenly walking on eggshells with them. Even Lia, the one who you would always be a bit more reserved with, never made you feel outright uncomfortable. Offended? Absolutely. But never uncomfortable.

And it’s not until you have some time alone with Jisoo that you figure out why. “So Y/N… I heard you were with Namjoon yesterday?”

It surprises you more than it should’ve and you feel a bit caught off guard in a battle you didn’t even know you were in. “Uh… yeah, we went out for coffee.” “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, I always have fun with Joon,” You shrug. “Who told you?”

“What?” Jisoo tries to play it cool, but you notice the tension in her smile.

“Who told you I was with Namjoon?” You chuckle, just tired at this point.

“Lia,” Jisoo says, motioning behind her to where the rest of the group sits. “She was there studying and told me she saw you two on a coffee date.”

“What?” Your eyes go wide with the insinuation. Coming from Jisoo, however, sounds more like an accusation. “It wasn’t a date. We were just catching up.”

“I just… I’m just sorry, you know,” She mumbles, and you don’t really like when Jisoo gets deep in thought like this; she tends to get enveloped in her own world a bit too much.

“For what?”

“For this whole Namjoon thing,” She sighs, finally look at you, and you offer her a reassuring smile, waving your hand absentmindedly.

“No need, we already talked about this, remem–“

“I mean, I just want you to know that if he’s bothering you, you can tell me and I’ll deal with him,” She promises, voice firm and strong, almost like she is promising to protect you. “I don’t want him to keep bothering you about me, or because of me, you know? I know how immature he is and how irritating he can be when he does that thing… the know-it-all thing! And oh, god, don’t even get me started about how fucking childish he is when he is with Jin and–”

You take a moment to process what she just told you, stoping on your tracks. “Wait. You think Namjoon is only hanging out with me because of you?”

“I mean–“

“Well, you have nothing to worry about, babes,” You take a deep breath, calming your growing anger. It is almost like she is trying to start a fight at this point, fishing for information. “Namjoon and I don’t talk about you. We’re actually really good friends and he is really good to me. A good friend. Is that alright?”

“Is…Is that alright?” Jisoo repeats, blinking in shock. “Of course! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Are you sure?” At this point, you admit it– you are absolutely teasing her, a sly smirk on your face.

You love Jisoo to death, she truly is a good friend, but she’s been so lost in this new world that’s been introduced to her; the masters, the people, the city… you think she just got overwhelmed. But it didn’t really affect you like that. You aren’t dazzled, like she is. You are grounded, now more then ever– in just a few months, your dissertation will be submitted, and you will be catapulted into the real world in which you’ll have to file tax forms, and work from 9 to 5 in an office, and where you’ll learn many new things, just not in the safe setting of a classroom, surrounded by your friends. No, this will be just you. And it’s time to truly be just you.

“Absolutely,” Her smile is tight but it slowly melts into a truthful one, eyes sparkling and everything. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy!”

“Thanks, Jisoo,” You giggle, hugging her tighter than usual.

Oddly enough, nothing about this felt okay. When she pulls away from the hug, laughing about something stupid that you don’t even pay attention to, you notice the distance in between you two. Even though her hands tightly grip your upper arm, and her voice is loud and booming in your ear, you’ve never felt this far away from Jisoo ever since you’ve met her.

And you are not sure if this is all bad, smiling to yourself as you suddenly feel the metal bars of your cage creaking and bending.

——————————

uuuhhh I honestly did not expect this to come out so fast and I never expected all the love for fool me once, fool me twice, so thank you so much for everything my loves! I guess it’s needless to say that there will be a part 3 but for now I hope you enjoy this my loves! Let me know what you think! Comment, share, like– help a fren out ❤️

#kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #fool me once fool me twice #dalamjisung #RM #rapmonster #bts #bts namjoon #bts leader #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim seokjin #joon #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jhope #hobi #agust d #suga #v #kookie #kook #imagine

[abused-sides]

Hungry [dead dove: do not eat]

    Trigger warning: someone dies from a food allergy and it’s VERY graphic, it’s an unsympathetic character. This is also written from someone who has a ton of severe food allergies, including the one that’s used, so it’s not some random asshole making light of a situation. Abusive relationships, death, murder, unsympathetic character is murdered

note: please read the trigger warnings and do not fucking read if it’ll bother/trigger you, this is the last warning

    xxx 

    Every morning, Janus ran out to buy him and Remus coffees while Remus stayed behind and burnt their breakfast. 

    Logan woke up to the smoke detector screaming and the rest of their roommates groaning while Roman frantically waved a blanket and snapped at his brother (Janus still smiled when he came home). It was as good of an alarm clock as any. 

    Every morning, Logan scraped together breakfast for a boyfriend he didn’t love. 

    Remus and Janus’ voices carried over from the living room as they ate on the couch. Logan used the burnt remnants of their stove to make bacon and eggs, something he could cook in his sleep. He wasn’t sleeping, though—He was focused on Remus and Janus. 

    “So,” Remus stole a piece of bacon and talked with his mouth full, “when’s the oaf getting up?” 

    Janus sipped at his coffee. “Obligatory defensive comment incoming,” he murmured, and Remus wrapped an arm around his waist. 

    “Don’t make fun of him,” Logan announced. 

    As much as Patton begged everyone to get along, Remus was never one to hide how he felt. Neither was Jaxon. 

    “You know he doesn’t do it on purpose, and you know he’ll be down here any second,” he whispered, and bumped Remus with his hip, who laughed. “Get out of here!” 

    Remus finished the bacon and said, “I gotta get to work anyway.” 

    That didn’t stop him from making out with Janus a good few minutes before leaving. 

    Jaxon stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. 

    “Morning, J,” Logan said quietly. 

    He hated Jaxon’s first appearance—he was too tired for Logan to tell what type of mood he was in. He used to stay quiet until he knew for sure, but Jaxon snapped at him once and said, “When you don’t say good morning, it feels like you’re mad at me or you don’t care about me.”

    Logan always said good morning now.

    Jaxon ignored him, took his plate, and went back upstairs. Logan relaxed. 

    “Just let me know when you want me to kill him for you,” Janus sneered, then ducked into his and Remus’ room. 

    Roman left for work next, singing on his way out, followed by Patton, who kissed Logan’s cheek and told him to stay safe. Virgil worked nights and didn’t wake until well after 3pm. Janus used noise-cancelling headphones while he worked. As much as Logan tried, he couldn’t get a shift today. He was essentially alone with Jaxon. 

    His stomach churned. 

    He went to his computer. 

    It didn’t take long for Jaxon to come back downstairs. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. 

    “What’s going on?” Jaxon asked. “You’re tense.” 

    Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “I just have a lot of work to do.” 

    “So? Take a break. Come hang out with me.” 

    “Jaxon…” Logan frowned at the screen. “I have a deadline.” 

    Jaxon yanked his arms back. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

    Logan looked over his shoulder. “What? No. Why would I be mad?” 

    He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, brown eyes hard. “Because you haven’t hung out with me all week. I never see you anymore.” 

    “I work right here in the living room because you wanted to see me more,” Logan insisted. “And we watched three movies last night. We can watch three more tonight.” 

    “Well I don’t wanna force you.”

    Janus’ door creaked open. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Can you two quiet down?” 

    “Come with me,” Jaxon growled under his breath and grabbed Logan’s wrist. 

    Logan stumbled after him. 

    “HEY!” Janus stormed forward and grabbed Logan’s other wrist. “He has a deadline. He needs to work. Have you no manners?” 

    “Sorry, princess, I wasn’t raised in a castle.” Jaxon yanked Logan hard enough for his shoulder to ache. 

    “You’re hurting me,” he said desperately. 

    “Let go of him.” Janus’ eyes were deadly slits. His teeth were fangs, his grip of a Boa. 

    Logan pulled—he’d get punished for that later—until Jaxon let go and he stumbled back into Janus’ arms. Janus quickly righted him then took his hands away. Logan shivered. 

    “We’ll talk about this later,” Jaxon mumbled, “when the snake isn’t around.” 

    He turned and stomped up the stairs. The door slammed, and Logan flinched. 

    “I’m sorry,” he spouted as he turned to Janus. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” 

    “Don’t worry about it.” 

    “And what he said—” 

    “I am a snake. It’s great. Is your wrist okay?” 

    Logan held it up. The skin was clear, but a bruise would surely show. “It’s fine. He almost…” He forced a laugh, “almost dislocated my shoulder, though.” 

    “Let me take a look at it. Sit down.” 

    Logan sat and Janus tugged his loose neckline down enough to expose his shoulder. Janus hummed. 

    “Is it hurting?” 

    “Just a little. I’m okay.” 

    “Let me get some ice.” 

    Janus came back a moment later and settled the icepack on Logan’s shoulder. 

    “Why haven’t you kicked us out?” Logan asked quietly. 

    “Because if he left, you’d go with him. And we like you a lot.” Janus ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, who leaned into the touch. “Besides, we have better plans for him. We’re killing him, remember?” 

    Logan laughed, and prayed to God Jaxon didn’t hear. 

    xxx 

    Logan didn’t see Jaxon again until dinner. Roman and Remus were play-fighting in the kitchen, yelling over the boiling of a stew. Patton and Virgil were watching a horror movie on the couch, Janus sat at their feet. Virgil kept kicking him. 

    Jaxon came down the stairs as Logan asked to help with dinner. Remus quickly took Logan under his arm. 

    “Yeah! Stir this for me. Hey, Jaxon. I’ve got Logan helping me here.” 

    “I missed you at lunch today,” Logan said over his shoulder. “Are you okay? Feeling sick?” 

    “A little,” he mumbled. “Will you eat with me?” 

    Logan melted. “Of course. Remus, is this safe for him?” 

    Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulder. Logan furrowed his eyebrows as they locked eyes. 

    “Yes.” Remus tapped something on the counter. “Janus and Roman helped me.” 

    Logan glanced down. 

    Peanut powder. 

    He swallowed. 

    “It’s perfectly safe for Jaxon.” 

    Blood rushed through Logan’s ears. 

    “No, actually.” Logan sucked in a shuddering breath. “No, I want to make him something myself.” 

    Remus’ shoulders slumped. “I understand. I guess.” 

    “But…” Logan grabbed his hand. “You can make it again if I ask?” 

    Roman set a hand on Logan’s lightly purpled shoulder. “We absolutely can.” 

    Logan got to work making Jaxon grilled cheese sandwiches, and they ate in the living room with everyone else. Jaxon kept wrinkling his nose and pursing his lips like he was rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

    “Everything okay, Jax?” Patton asked sweetly. 

    “There’s no peanuts in that, right? Something about the smell is setting me off.” 

    “Nope.” Janus laid his head in Remus’ lap. “We know about your allergy, Jaxon. We’re careful.” 

    xxx 

    That night, Logan stayed up late with Jaxon watching movies. Logan fell asleep cuddled against Jaxon’s chest and woke up the next morning snuggled with him in bed. 

    He hauled himself out of bed, heavy with exhaustion, as the smoke alarm screamed. Janus kissed Remus on the cheek before leaving for their coffees. Remus cracked another egg in the pan. Roman sang Disney at the top of his lungs as he got ready in the bathroom, Virgil pounding on the door demanding that he needed to piss. Patton snapped that there’s another bathroom upstairs and that if those two didn’t stop fighting he’d lose his mind. 

    Logan found a path in the kitchen to grab the stuff for French toast. He pushed aside Remus’ used dishes and ingredients to set his own down. 

    “How are you feeling?” Remus asked as Logan whisked. “You know, about the decision you made.” 

    “Good,” he admitted. “I think it was the right call.” 

    Remus set the spatula down hard. “So how else do you wanna proceed?” 

    Logan’s whisks slowed. “I… I don’t know. Last time I talked about maybe taking a break, he—” 

    “Hey, Jaxon!” Patton greeted cheerfully. 

    Logan snapped his mouth shut. 

    “Morning, handsome.” Jaxon kissed the back of Logan’s neck. 

    He smiled as Jaxon poured them both juice. “It was the right decision.”

    xxx 

    “Logan!” Jaxon bounded down the stairs. “When are you stopping for lunch?” 

    “Um…” Logan shifted in his seat. “I had lunch.” 

    Jaxon stopped. “What?” 

    “It was quick.” Logan pushed back in the chair to face Jaxon. “Just a snack, really. Then I got right back to work.” 

    “Why would you eat without me? I knew it, you are mad at me. We always have lunch together.” 

    “I know, I’m sorry—”

    “If you know, why did you eat without me? What did I even do?”

    “You didn’t do anything!” 

    “But you’re mad at me.” 

    “I’m not mad at you!”

    “THEN WHY WOULD YOU EAT WITHOUT ME?”

    Logan flinched. 

    Jaxon grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Don’t be a baby! Just tell me!” 

    He slammed Logan into the wall just as Janus’ door opened. Logan’s head bounced off the paint, his eye erupting in pain. 

    “Get off,” Janus snapped. 

    “This is none of your business! Go back to work!” 

    Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed three numbers. 

    “Put the phone down!” 

    “I need someone here right away, my roommate—”

    Jaxon leapt ten steps back. Logan crumpled in on himself, pressed against the wall where Jaxon left him. 

    “I think he’s calming down now,” Janus said into the phone. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I would like you to remain on the line.” 

    Jaxon grabbed his wallet and keys, and stormed out. The door slammed and Logan flinched. 

    “He’s gone now. Thank you for your help. Let me ask.” He pressed the phone to his shirt. “Do you want to press charges? Do you want the police to come?” 

    Logan shook his head, eyes watering. “I want to make dinner.” 

    xxx 

    “That again?” Jaxon asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder. 

    Logan stirred the thick broth. “You didn’t get to try it. It’s good.” 

    Jaxon shrugged. “Is your eye okay?”

    “It’ll heal.” 

    He left. Logan grabbed the peanut powder and dumped in a generous amount, then left it to boil and cook down. 

    Everyone stared at Jaxon as they ate. Logan finished his bowl and grabbed seconds. Pale blotches appeared on Jaxon’s face. His lips swelled. 

    “Are you sure this doesn’t have peanuts?” He asked nervously. “I don’t feel great.” 

    “My eye hurts,” Logan announced. 

    “I have some medicine for it.” Remus kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.” 

    Jaxon glared. “Kiss your own boyfriend!” 

    By the time Remus came back, Jaxon’s throat was swelling shut. “Drive me to a hospital,” he demanded in a hoarse voice. 

    Patton knelt between Logan’s legs and applied the cream Remus bought to Logan’s browbone and the top of his cheekbone. 

    “Dinner was good,” Virgil said. “Are you gonna finish yours, Jax?” 

    He glared and stumbled for the door. “What the hell is this?” 

    Virgil shrugged and grabbed Jaxon’s bowl, downing the rest. Roman leaned against the door with his arms crossed. Jaxon threw a punch, but Roman easily ducked against Jaxon’s weak, wobbling frame. 

    “Oh, God, are you okay?” Patton gasped. “Call an ambulance!” 

    Jaxon collapsed to his knees as his body convulsed. His hands dug into the carpet. He vomited, elbows and knees locking. 

    “Shit, did we add peanut?” Roman asked. “Old habits.” 

    “What’s the number again?” Remus stared at his phone in confusion. 

    “What’s… wrong… with you… all…” Jaxon gasped through his throw up. 

    “911, I think,” Logan mumbled. “Are you okay, love?” 

    “I need someone here right away. My roommate is having an allergic reaction. He was eating alone, we didn’t catch it very fast— yes. Okay, I understand. Mhm.” He gave them the address then hung up. 

    Janus, Remus, and Roman turned on the T.V. Logan and Patton got to work cleaning up after dinner. Virgil stared Jaxon down. 

    He was dead before the paramedics arrived. 

    xxx 

    The smoke alarm blared. Logan hauled himself out of the warm bed and came out of Janus and Remus’ room. 

    “Slept long enough,” Janus said, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. 

    Logan leaned his head on Janus’ shoulder. “Coffee?” 

    “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

    “Breakfast is almost ready!” Remus called. “Hurry up!” 

    “I HAVE TO PISS, ROMAN!” 

    “THERE ARE TWO BATHROOMS!” 

    Logan got into the car with Janus. Janus pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest coffee shop. 

    “How are you feeling?” Janus asked, reaching over and taking his hand. 

    “Hungry.” 

#logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #intruloceit #loceit #dukeceit #intrulogical #minor character death #logan centric #max writes #hurt/comfort #angst

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (5)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 8.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: So on to the next chapter! This is probably the longest I’ve written for this series! Anyway, please excuse my tarot reading skills, my knowledge is only limited to watching pick a car readings in youtube and google. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy! -Hyeri

⍟ Taglist: @shoshishua, @woozisnoots (I also want to thank @minkwans and @oprandomfeels for leaving such a nice messages on the tags in the previous chapter!! I dont want to sound creepy but i do comeback to them if i needed motivation to write! so thank you!!)

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

CILVEKAN ESPIONAGE TURNS PARLIAMENT INTO A BATTLEFIELD by Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung

The Porta Persa Edition, October 12th

Words that break like cannon shots, arguments that burn like incendiaries, bulwarks of statements that are hardly impenetrable—such is a terrifying and impressive sight to behold upon the ancient halls of the Parliament in these last few weeks. The fate of the two Cilvekan agents who were previously caught in Lower Efendel had been a divisive force upon the venerated legislative body of our nation; rendering them into a heated stalemate. 

Armed with wit and sound proofs, Conservatives led by Atlen County Representative Kang Jinho campaigned for stringent travel restrictions, as well as a thorough examination of all Cilvekan nationals entering and leaving Porta Persa. He contends that the security of this powerful nation must not be compromised for simple material gains. 

Pointing an accusing finger at the trading and tourism industry which has seen immense growth in profits due to the inflow of foreign immigrants and visitors into the country, Conservatives have been critical of lax travel regulations over the years in which they view, as in Rep. Kang’s words, as a means for ‘alien entities’ to ‘wreak havoc in this peaceful land’ and ‘further their covert operations to diminish and weaken the stability of Porta Persa’. According to Rep. Kang, it is rightfully so that sacrifices are to be made to ensure that no foreign powers would dare to assert their influence over this country. 

On the other side of the argument lie Santaragossa Assembly Representative Lee Jihoon, the flagship of both Libertarians and Moderates on this matter, who, with his rapid fire responses, have advocated for softer regulations and an extensive counterintelligence program instead. 

In his speech to Congress today, Rep. Lee disputes that economic factors are hardly simple, and should not be diminished into mere ‘increase of gains’. In his words ‘There are people who, if harsher travel restrictions are thus placed, will be left for wild dogs to eat, for the weather to beat and rattle their bones on the cold earth. With no means of a livelihood to provide for themselves, what will become of them? For us who have a roof to sleep in, and food on the table to eat, it is easy for us to say that travel restrictions are a minor inconvenience. Yet for these people, harsher travel restrictions are equivalent to a death sentence.’

He further advocates for a better counterintelligence program wherein proper and stronger defenses are to be implemented only at the appropriate areas, as this is not only cost effective, but also ensures that the livelihood and the human rights of all people in Porta Persa, whether be citizen, immigrant, tourist and whatnots are protected and venerated…

◇

“Lee Jihoon was truly frightening during that session. I swear to god, sitting there feels like he’s attacking me personally.”

Unlike the usual, the three of you were not relaxing comfortably outside the lush courtyards of the Royal Academy, eating carefully prepared lunches and enjoying the view. Instead, late morning sunlight poured from the open windows, illuminating the wooden desk and chair you were sitting on, silently listening to your friends.

To your right, sat said friends: Wonwoo and Soonyoung who were fresh from the printers, the rancid smell of ink sticking to their regal school uniform. On Soonyoung’s hands was the freshly printed draft of your newspaper, which was to be released the next day. 

He folded the newspaper and tossed it beside you on the desk. 

“He’s been like that for what? A week now, I reckon?” 

“Two, in my opinion.” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. He was the calmer kind of fellow. Soonyoung was more theatrical. 

“Oh good god, it’s been two weeks already?” Soonyoung exclaimed, his lips ajar. “No wonder Y/N is here all the time!”

Wonwoo glanced at you, who simply turned away and faced the open window. “Why are you here exactly?”

You continued to grind Alizarin berries on your portable mortar and pestle with a nonchalant look on your face. “I’m making your allergy medicine.”

“Not yesterday and in the last few weeks,” Wonwoo retorted back, giving you an inquisitive look. “Now tell me, is it because of Lee Jihoon?” 

Groaning, you continued to pour all of your irritation at the poor powdered berries in your mortar. “Must the reason always be Lee Jihoon?” 

“Well, why are you here then?” Soonyoung shrugged, glancing at you with raised brows. 

Exasperated, you sighed and left the mortar and pestle alone for once. In all honesty, the reason was indeed Lee Jihoon. After he saw your breakdown two weeks ago, you were avoiding him at all cost because you knew he was going to ask you about it and you were not one to divulge such sensitive topics. 

Of course, you wouldn’t let them know. “The way my room looks is just nauseating.” 

Soonyoung made an incredulous frown while Wonwoo snorted. 

“Right.” They both said.

Having childhood friends has its own disadvantages: you couldn’t really hide anything from them. Yet you wouldn’t tell them anything for that matter. Your room was indeed nauseating, spinning around and around as your vision blur if you just stay in one position for far too long.The way your stomach churns and your legs buckle because of the amount of suppressants you were taking to block your soulmate connection was something you simply cannot express into words. 

You stare at the red powder inside the mortar. The smell was making you lurch, reminding you of the suppressant, yet you expertly concealed it with a cough and a broad change of subject. 

“Aren’t we supposed to go somewhere today?” you asked, adding more berries to the mortar. 

“No, it’s on Friday, 3pm,” Wonwoo replied, checking his travel sized planner. “For some time, Soonyoung and I have been tracing documents from Luce Trading to see if they could give us some clues. But most of them inexplicably got lost or destroyed from last year’s flooding, but thankfully, Soonyoung found some in a novelty shop.” 

Upon hearing, you quirked a brow at them. “That is quite interesting. It is possible that something important is in those documents, especially when they had deemed it necessary to destroy them. It seems like fortune is on our side today.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Exactly my thoughts.”

“I reckon, those documents can finally settle the question of who their actual victims are,” the other male remarked with a considerate nod. “We can actually take a step forward in this investigation!”

You forced a smile. Truly, you were elated but the way your heart was palpitating wasn't feeling that great to you. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses once more, a habit he has acquired whenever he was thinking of something.

"Quite frankly, I still haven't forgotten what Jihoon had told me a few months ago," he started, fidgeting with his hands. "And god knows if he's telling me the truth or throwing us off the scent." 

"Oh that one..." Soonyoung exclaimed, nodding. You glanced at the two of them, looking betrayed. 

"Why have I no knowledge of this?" You asked, eyes shooting daggers. 

The two boys quickly exchanged glances and panicked.

"You haven't told Y/N?" Wonwoo asked the other male, who was beginning to pout. 

"What…I thought you told Y/N!" He replied, pointing at you. 

What seemed like a little misunderstanding was going to become a lot of bickering later on, so as you rolled your eyes, you put yourself between the two of them. 

"Alright, enough. Just tell me what Lee Jihoon said," you spoke sternly, hands on your hips.

“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Wonwoo recounted. “Jihoon kept going in circles about our newspaper, Alex Fireflower—”

“Me?” you exclaimed, furrowing your brow.

“Yes, you. And the Gestalt case,” Wonwoo continued, acknowledging you. “At first, I was under the impression that he was simply inquiring what my thoughts were with regards to the Gestalt case as a fellow classmate, yet as it turned out, he appears to be hinting that it was a suicide case.”

A bewildered look was what you gave him, not understanding how a blatantly homicide case could possibly be a suicide. “I need you to expound further than that.”

Your friend shrugged. “That’s where the problem lies. We know that the Gestalts might be involved in the sex trafficking ring due to the judicial records we’ve discovered before, yet to what extent is a matter we have no knowledge of.”

“Oh, yes, that tax evasion case filed against Luce Trading that was suddenly dismissed by court with no apparent reason…it seems malicious, yet I still doubt that it should be considered a connection to the syndicate” Soonyoung remarked. 

“Those things usually happen yet everything involved in this case should be accounted for. Even including the possibility of it being a suicide,” Wonwoo continued. 

“Yet logistically speaking, how can it possibly be a suicide?” You asked, clearly unconvinced. “Lee Jihoon is merely giving us chaff.”

“That is the reason why I cannot just stop thinking about it. It’s perplexing.” 

“You’re just doing mental exercises, Wonwoo,” you dismissed him. “Trusting Lee Jihoon is definitely not advisable. He’s a politician. We might be unaware that he is in fact a part of that syndicate, and is simply playing cat and mouse with us.”

Wonwoo heaved a long sigh, leaning against the bedpost. “That, I won’t deny.”

“Rather than running on conjectures, we should proceed with the investigation instead,” Soonyoung interrupted solemnly. “We simply do not have the entire narrative.”

"I completely agree," you replied, leaning against the table as you go through another wave of stomach cramps with much composure. "Let's…lay out what we know first." 

The two of them nodded at you, which you considered a signal to begin.

"So, we know that some government officials are involved in a sex trafficking scheme. Why do we know that?" 

Soonyoung answered. "Because Wonwoo unintentionally eavesdropped a conversation between his father and a parliament member, who was trying to ask him to vote against the amendment of the Soulmate bond." 

"He offered my father membership to the syndicate among other things…" Wonwoo quietly continued, perusing his thoughts. 

"Right. We know that the Gestalt case is somewhat related to the syndicate. Why?" 

"For one, that parliament member who had attempted to lobby for my father's vote was asking him to vote against the amendment which has stemmed from the Gestalt case. It could possibly be a stretch but we should not deny it." 

Nodding, you continued. "And the fact that we had found out that Rene Gestalt had already died right after the High Court suspension. And had died under a different name and under a mysterious circumstance."

"If Rene Gestalt was a simple nobody, he wouldn’t have died in that manner," Soonyoung added. "And that tax evasion case shouldn't have been dismissed so easily."

"Luce Trading is more profitable than Kwon International, isn't it?" You asked, but Soonyoung immediately replied.

"Hey now! We had better sales for the past decade!" 

You giggled, "Alright, my apologies." 

"I still find it hard to fit the pieces though," Wonwoo interrupted. "Why Luce Trading? Why did Himi Gestalt die but not Rene? What exactly happened?"

The three of you exchanged glances.

"We need more information."

You leaned back, sighing as you felt the heaviness of the possible truth you have in your hands. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were pretty much the same. That’s why, more than anything, you didn’t want any sort of distraction, especially those that involve soulmate bonds.

“In the meantime, Y/N,” Wonwoo began, giving Soonyoung a look and then the two gazed at you with concerned expressions. “Are you truly, definitely, a hundred percent, alright?” 

You knitted your brows, and immediately replied. “I’ve never been better.”

“No…! No, what we meant is…” Soonyoung was the one who responded. “You…you fought with your father, didn’t you?”

It was a sudden inquiry, you can admit that, but you were not at least surprised they had asked. Your father must’ve gone to Soonyoung’s father and then they informed him of the matter. 

“A few weeks ago, yes,” you told them, nonchalant as you added more berries to the mortar. “I have decided to cut ties with him once and for all. He’s nothing to me now.”

You noticed that they were taken aback, but it was an expected reaction. The decision was indeed done in the heat of the moment, yet you didn’t feel anymore remorseful. 

“You do not have to worry about me. I have you two, and our newspaper is doing quite well in sales,” you reassured them. “Cutting him off is simply removing dead weight off my shoulders.”

Without any warning, Soonyoung pulled you to a tight embrace and Wonwoo followed soon after. You simply stayed still in surprise, as they continued to console you silently, knowing that you didn’t need any words to make you feel better. 

“Y/N, please know that we will always be here for you,” Wonwoo began. “We’ve been together since we were children, and we’ll always will be.”

“If you wish to get something off your chest, we are always here to listen. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

You grimaced at this, but hid it easily by burying yourself underneath their embrace. You’ll tell them everything someday, but now, you simply wish to brave the storm by yourself.

“I will.”

◇

"Jihoon!"

Heavy footfalls echo across the marbled hallways of the Parliament. Rows of white columns line up on the curve, the view of Porta Persa easily seen with just one turn of a head.

"Jihoon, please wait for a moment!"

Harsh steps that march through with controlled frustration, and another set which was running after them. Nobody was on sight other than two men who were adorned by their heavy purple robes, billowing with the wind.

"Lee Jihoon!" 

"What is it ?!" The other snapped, his eyes piercing and intense.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs sighed, his demeanor tinged with concern. The whole Parliament hearing was tense and unnerving, and Lee Jihoon seemed to be in the middle of the swirling storm. 

"I simply wanted to see if you are doing well," Joshua offered, his voice calm, yet the other simply scoffed.

"What do you suppose?" he replied, his tone filled with frustration and sarcasm. "If we lose next week's vote, it'll be all over!" 

Joshua reached out for Jihoon's shoulder, trying to help the other through his temper. 

"Alright Jihoon, listen to me. We still have time. We can still convince the others to vote against the bill." 

"But we need fifty more votes! Where in heaven's name are we going to find those?" He exclaimed and then groaned, resounding through the deserted hall.

"You need to calm down, Jihoon!" Joshua reminded, shaking some sense into him. "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill!"

The dark haired male blinked, stunned by the sudden loudness of his friend's voice. The high had finally subsided in his veins as he huffed and removed himself from Joshua's grasps. 

"Jihoon…"

"I apologize. I'm simply exhausted," he replied, sighing as he turned his back to the other. "While this issue has been particularly draining, my soulmate bond is eating my energy away as well." 

Joshua blinked, wondering what was the matter this time. They had left Jihoon in his dorm room that day as instructed, yet for some reason after that, he seemed to have become more snappish and gloomy. 

Jihoon sighed once more, probably the nth time for today. 

"She…she was crying when she arrived, you know. I have no inkling as to why but it did hurt me…seeing her like that," he continued, now more to himself than to Joshua. "I wanted to comfort her or do something, anything…but she pushed me away, both physically and mentally. It's been weighing on me since then."

Without a word, Joshua walked towards him and placed an understanding tap on his shoulder. "I wish I can offer you some help."

At this point, Jihoon simply shook his head with a downcast smile. "There is nothing we can do about it if she doesn't want me." 

Those words, as he said it, felt more painful than he had anticipated. Yet that was the truth—she had blocked him, in more ways than one. Jihoon wished he knew why yet he had already spent enough sleepless nights on it that he didn't need more.

"In the meantime, it would be nice if we had those fifty votes before the weekend."

◇

Oct. 14th 

Desmere District, Porta Persa

"So, it's here?" You asked, standing in front of a decrepit shop, flanked by two of your friends. "Are you sure it's here?" 

You weren’t really one to judge but the way the roof shingles were about to fall, the dull green paint peeling off the door, and the dusty shop window filled by various junk accumulated over the years, was telling a rather clear story. 

You could even  hardly read the name of the shop. 

“52nd Oppleton street, Esmond Novelty Shop….Yes, without a doubt this is the one!” Soonyoung replied cheerfully, grinning ear to ear, “Come on now! No time to waste!” 

Wonwoo glanced at you with a knowing look as he followed after Soonyoung through the door. Today seemed to be one of those days where Wonwoo was in a rather irritatingly playful mood. “You heard him. No time to waste now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t new for you to be the victim of their teasing, but you didn’t appreciate it either when it comes. Thus, as you rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, you threw your hesitation out of the window. Following closely behind, you heard the charming bell chime above you as soon as you entered, yet the dust which wafted through the air was not as charming as you had feared.

“Welcome to our shop! Feel free to look around and see if anything suits your fancy!” A male voice greeted you three, though you cannot make out a clear image of him as he seemed to be covered by the centuries old dust. 

“Ah, we’re actually looking for someone…” Soonyoung replied, fishing a piece of parchment inside the pocket of his vest. “Um…a Madame Adora?” 

While the three of you seemed to be unsure, the tall burly man, which you have now seen after the dust has settled, nodded in understanding. 

“Yes, yes. Please follow me. Her shop is at the back,” he replied and turned around, not waiting for you to respond. 

Exchanging curious glances, you followed close behind—carefully studying your surroundings as you did. There were a lot of books for one. Stacks upon stacks of leather tomes piled on top of another which was rather deadly if one wrong move was made. The shopkeeper, seemingly used to this dangerous environment, easily navigated his way through the path provided. 

There were a lot of miscellaneous items as well: old shoes, typewriters, some ornate desks which were long forgotten. Dirty porcelain dolls, dull grey candelabras, and even a baby grand piano covered with various knickknacks—essentially, this was a shop of extras: once loved, tossed away and buried under the sands of time. Their fate seemed to have given you a melancholic mood, yet there is little you can do to change it. 

“Where do you find all of these?” Wonwoo asked, curious as he perused over an old book about outdated potions. 

“There are numerous ways,” the man shrugged, dodging a stray pole which was protruding from a pile of junk. “Sometimes we buy them from people who move houses, sometimes they just give it to us, and some just find their way here.”

His words immediately reminded you of the thought that objects do have souls in them. They used to be someone’s important thing; they were once given meaning and context by the people who used to own them. This place had become their new home now, amidst the sea of other objects that were no different.

A light knock on wood snatched you from your thoughts as you averted your attention back to the matter at hand. The shopkeeper had stopped in front of a slightly ajar door, peeking carefully at the space. 

“Madame, these people wish to speak to you,” he called out, yet he was met by silence and a rather loud creaking of a chair being moved. A grainy “let them in” soon followed, though you were not as sure since it was just above a murmur.

Nodding, the shopkeeper moved and allowed you space to walk inside the room. With rather modest postures, the three of you silently entered in file, easily spotting a worn out loveseat, which was probably a bright emerald in its youth, to sit on. It was a rather small space, enough to be a breakfast room, with second hand furniture and astrology-related objects littered around to give a sense of mystique. 

“Robert, fetch those documents for me please,” the old woman ordered, who you hardly noticed with how she was almost covered by the wooden desk before her. The shopkeeper, who was apparently named Robert hummed and disappeared, closing the door shut. 

As soon as he was gone, you scooted on your seat to take a closer look of the old woman. Just as you had anticipated, Madame Adora was petit, but was made to look larger by her bulky dress adorned by stars and moons embroidered in metallic thread. It had the same fabric as her headpiece which was wrapped around her head like a towel. The one which caught most of your attention however, was the large dangling sun and moon earrings which were as big as her head. You wondered if they were as heavy as they looked. 

“Um…we’re—” Wonwoo began but was instantly halted by the Madame with just one hand. 

“I know what you seek, my dear children,” she began, her voice croaky. Probably from smoking a bit too much; you thought as you noticed the ashtray on her table next to the burning sage. 

The three of you raised your eyebrows, wondering what Madame Adora could’ve meant by her words. She seemed to be the eccentric type, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she busted out tarot cards and a crystal ball any minute. 

“You are on your path to fulfill a great purpose for humanity. It is a fate neither you nor this country can avoid,” she continued, making you glance at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. You wanted to ask them if she was sane, but out of courtesy, you decided to keep your mouth shut. 

“O-Of course…that—that’s what we’re trying to do,” Soonyoung replied awkwardly as he shifted on his seat. “But we do need to—”

“Yet be cautioned. This path does not offer refuge nor solace for the tired and weary. You will be accompanied by danger, deceit and the deep dark evils of this world. You will face adversaries stronger and larger than you had anticipated. Poke the bear, and its claws shall appear. Be strong and always seek for the truth.”

“Uh…yes, of course,” you replied, ending with uncertainty. “So the documents—”

“Ah, yes. Robert will be here soon,” she interrupted yet again. “While we wait, would any of you like a tarot reading?” 

“T-tarot reading?” Soonyoung exclaimed, as he leaned forward, not sure if he had heard it right. 

What a surprise. You simply smiled.

Interrupting your gloating, Soonyoung suddenly nudged you with his elbow, making you look at him. 

“What?” you asked, your voice a whisper. 

“Y-you do it, Y/N!” He replied, his expression not betraying the fact that he was a bit afraid. 

“What? Me? Of course not! Do you suppose I believe in such buffoonery?”

“Now, now. It’s just tarot cards, what harm could it possibly do to you? Attack you with a paper cut?” Soonyoung immediately replied, even though he was the one who got frightened first.

“Soonyoung is right, Y/N,” Wonwoo joined in, though you knew he was trying to gang up on you. “Besides, you wouldn’t be so cruel to deny this poor woman an income, would you?”

You closed your eyes, and breathed in—incredibly irritated by this game Wonwoo was playing today. However, you just didn’t have the energy to pick up a fight with how your stomach was beginning to churn once again; the suppressants returning with a vengeance after the pain relievers had worn off.

“Fine then! I’ll do it,” you seethed through gritted teeth as you stood up and walked towards the old woman. “I’ll do it.”

Now much closer, you saw Madame Adora smile warmly at you, which made you feel a bit guilty for getting angry. Sighing, you turn your gaze down to the wooden desk, unable to look into her eyes. 

“Boys,” the Madame suddenly called in her raspy voice. “Robert is waiting for you in the other room to look at the documents. Your friend will join you shortly.”

At this development, both Wonwoo and Soonyoung glanced at you, asking if it was alright for them to leave you. You smiled at them encouragingly. You’ll be fine. It’s just a tarot reading.

“Please don’t start without me,” you turned to them as they left the room. “I’m looking at you Kwon Soonyoung.”

Your friend simply grinned and gave you a salute. “Aye, aye!”

When the door was finally shut and you were left alone with the old woman, you glanced at her, wondering what was about to happen, or if she was going to do something.

“What’s your name, my dear?” she asked, something you hadn’t expected.

“Uh…I’m Y/N,” you soon replied, fiddling with a stray lock. You tried to deduce what the Madame was thinking, but nothing came to mind. She was eccentric and unpredictable; there was no use trying to predict the next set of events.

“Well then, please take a seat, Y/N,” she offered the armchair beside you which you quickly sat on. “Is this your first time getting a reading?”

“Yes, I…” you tried to evaluate your next words. “I’ve never been to a shop like this before.” 

She simply chuckled at you, pulling out a deck of cards from a drawer. “I understand, dear. We readers are few in number, yet believe it or not, just like magical practitioners, it is necessary for us to have proper licenses.” 

With the new information, you raised your brows and nodded, wondering why you haven’t known of this field before. As you continue to swim in your thoughts, Madame Adora began waving the smoking sage around the area. 

Knowing your curious look, she gave a small smile. “To cleanse the space, my dear. Sometimes we carry residual energy from people, objects or situations. It is necessary to cleanse before we begin the reading, so we can only pick up your own energy.”

Nodding once more, you didn’t really know what she was talking about. You were no magi, and your knowledge of magic was limited to alchemy and potions, which was grounded more into the material world than the metaphysical. 

“Alright then. What kind of reading do you wish to do?” She asked and you only gave her a blank look—completely innocent to the kind of readings a reader could perform. 

Without you needing to say a word, the Madame nodded in understanding and explained it to you. 

“A reading, in its base form, is a medium to provide some clarity. The Universe itself provides the answers. So if there is a question, a situation which you wish to seek clarity on, then we could begin with that.” 

Even before the old woman had finished talking, your head was already turning gears and cogwheels. You wanted to ask about the syndicate and the investigative reporting you were doing, yet for some reason, a niggling feeling inside of you was telling you it wasn’t the right question to ask. 

So you searched for it, concentrating on the feeling that you knew you could trust. However, at the end,  you were surprised to where it had led you. You didn’t want to ask about it. It was done, it was there. It didn’t matter anymore. But you felt it. It was so strong that it made shivers creep under your skin. You know you needed to hear it. 

You sighed. It’s just a tarot reading. No harm done. 

“I…uh…” you gazed downwards, finding your wrist wrapped in ribbon to be quite fascinating; deciding for one last time if this was indeed the decision you were making.

“My…uh, soulmate bond.”

You were not sure if she had heard you with how small your voice sounded, but there was no way you would repeat yourself. The way you finally said those words out loud felt like some sort of acceptance; an acknowledgement that a soulmate bond existed between you and that person. Before, it felt like it was simply a figment of your imagination.

To your surprise, the Madame nodded at you, smiling proudly. “Then it shall be. Let us begin.”

You nodded back, watching as she began to expertly shuffle the cards. 

“I will be doing a simple spread for you. A first card or cards would explain your energy, and then his energy. Afterwards, your strengths and weaknesses, then the state of this connection. Finally, we will be asking for the future of your soulmate connection.”

Unaware of how specific tarot can be, you only stared at her quite agile hands, not fully understanding everything. 

“Please be reminded, dear that energies do change. What is shown here is simply the current energy of the soulmate bond. You and your soulmate still do have the agency to change your future, yet for now, this is what it is.”

You definitely liked the sound of that. If tarot had been in any way fatalistic, you would’ve soured on it in an instant. You always believed that you had some semblance of control over your life, or at least you wanted to. 

Quietly, the Madame began drawing out cards, mostly cards which jumped out while she was shuffling. As she began to neatly arrange the cards into a grid-like form, you watched out for any reaction or expression from her. As it turned out, the most you could get was a slight raise of a brow. 

When it was all done, she flipped the deck over and placed it beside the spread. Peering overing, you saw that there were a lot of cards, some were upright and the others upside down. You wondered what these all meant.

“Well then, my dear,” she spoke to you, glancing all over the spread and then nodded in understanding. “Let us begin with your energy—Eight of Swords, Queen of Swords reversed and the Hermit reversed.”

“Are those good or bad?” you asked, curious, yet the old woman simply tightened her lips.

“What I could say is that, you may seem to be trapped in your situation right now, whatever your situation may be. Look at this woman in the Eight of Swords,” she replied, holding out the card to you. “ She is blindfolded and surrounded by these swords. She seems to be trapped and imprisoned. It could be your thoughts or what you are telling yourself, as swords symbolizes our mind and how we communicate. You could be suffering from self-doubt.”

Taking in her words, you could feel a lump forming in your chest, knowing that she was indeed right. 

“And then we have the Queen of Swords, which is you. When she is upright, she is a force to be reckoned with: intelligent, independent and the speaker of truth, however dear, we have her in reverse, which only shows the shadow side of this energy. The Hermit in reverse is telling me the same thing. My dear, I must apologize, yet this is what I see. As you continue to trap yourself with negative thoughts, you are slowly closing off your heart, becoming coldhearted and bitter, leading you into more loneliness and isolation. Whatever has caused you to become like this was incredibly painful that you have been pushed into fear, creating these defensive walls which then became the swords blindsiding you at this moment.”

You were silent, knowing full well what the old woman was talking about. You wanted to be angry at her for speaking a truth you were trying to avoid all this time, yet there was only sadness in your heart. 

“I’m so sorry dear, but this is what the cards say, but please rest assured that your energy could still change. Considering the strengths of this connection, I have high hopes that this soulmate bond will succeed,” Madame Adora consoled you, seeing the deep hurt in your eyes. 

“It’s fine,” you replied, swallowing the bile forming in your throat. “Please continue.”

Hesitantly, the Madame moved to the two cards beside the first ones she had read. “For your soulmate’s energy: the Two of Pentacles in reverse and the Hierophant.”

“As for now, your soulmate is in an imbalance. Look at how this person is trying to juggle the two pentacles in the card. He could hardly balance them at all. It could possibly be that your soulmate finds it difficult to manage their career and this connection with you, as this is a pentacles card which usually pertains to finances and the material world. Or, it could possibly be that they cannot find the balance between their traditional values and the constantly changing world with the Hierophant. Their views are definitely being challenged by you and your connection. Nevertheless, they seem to have felt your withdrawal and decided to focus on their career instead, which has now become two burdens on their shoulders.”

Making a downcast look, you felt guilty for making him feel that way. If he had indeed felt your pain through the bond, then he was no better than you. He was hurt too and the thought of you unintentionally inflicting pain on someone was something you were not keen on. 

“Now then, let’s  move to the strengths of this connection with the Chariot and Strength cards, which are incredibly powerful cards to have. Even this whole spread is powerful, considering how much Major Arcana you have.”

You leaned your head to the side. “Oh, is…is that so?”

“Yes. The Major Arcana holds more significance than the Minor Arcana, that is why having numerous cards from this suit could mean that this connection could be life changing for the both of you. With that said, having the Chariot and Strength implies that the both of you have a tremendous amount of strength and willpower. You and your soulmate are influential people who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals. That is why, even through all the pain and difficulties this bond will bring, this connection will survive.”

Not knowing what to make of that, you simply nodded. You were unsure if you do want this connection to survive. You hardly know your soulmate and you had no interest in doing so. You had long abandoned the idea that you will find love in a soulmate bond.

“Well now, look here, Y/N. I have been called upon to draw three cards for the weaknesses of this connection. We have the Five of Swords, the Nine of Swords in reverse and the High Priestess in reverse,” she continued, showing you the three cards.

“At this moment, there is conflict and disagreement in this connection. It could possibly be that the both of you have fought and that was the reason for your stagnant energy and his withdrawal, and with the Nine of Swords in reverse, usually this card means your anxieties and fears, and in reverse, it could be a release of those negative energies. However, in this reading, it seems like the both of you are hiding this inner turmoil in your hearts. Look at the image here,” the Madame pointed at the Nine of Swords.

“The woman is crying on her bed at night while these swords loom above her—she is crying alone, only the night is her companion, when everyone else is asleep and oblivious to her pain. In a way, you both are mirroring each other. You try to keep this conflict in your heart, making you feel disenchanted with this connection. You had lost hope of finding this love you seek. They on the other hand, try to bury themselves in their career or material possessions. They want stability and a sense of normalcy, yet cannot find it. The Universe has been providing divine guidance, yet with the High Priestess in reverse, the both of you cannot hear or perceive the signs.”

“This is further clarified with the Hanged Man and the Tower, both in reverse. These two cards represent the state of this connection, which further confirms the stagnation and fear of change in this connection. I felt this in the beginning when I was tapping to your energy, but dear, have you been blocking your soulmate bond?”

For some reason, you could only look at her and speak no words. There was fear in your eyes and guilt in your gut. It felt like you had done something unforgivable. You cast a glare to your arm, unable to utter any words of admittance. 

“Dear, may I see your wrist?” Madame Adora asked softly. You were hesitant at first but eventually gave in, pulling the ribbon that was wrapped around your wrist and placed it on the table. 

Gently, she examined the dull black bars on your skin as you watched curiously. You would ask what she was doing if she hadn’t begun speaking once again. 

“You are in pain, dear. Deep, deep pain you need to heal from. It’s not a fresh wound, but scars inflicted from so long ago yet continuously being pried open over the years. You keep on ignoring, burying these scars, hoping that time would help it heal someday,” she said, her fingers on the marks. 

“Yet when this soulmate bond came, it had forced you to face them even if you have no wish to, even if you were not ready to. This bond is making your fears rise to the surface—the fear of heartbreak and of disappointment. Thus, instead of waiting for someone else to do this to you, you decided to nip it in the bud. You try to convince yourself that you wish to be alone, that you are comfortable alone, yet deep inside you, you long for someone to share the heaviness which weighs down your heart.” 

Without even realizing, you had furrowed your brows and was glaring at the offending soulmate mark on your skin. There was a feeling deep inside you which refuses to accept the old woman's words. It was too painful to acknowledge the yearning that was deeply-rooted in your heart. It was too embarrassing to say that you had made a mistake.

You were simply protecting yourself. Those scars had long healed itself. You had already cut ties with your father and that was the end of the story. There is nothing more to talk about. There was no need to face any more of this. There is no need to reconcile with your soulmate. 

Gritting your teeth, you could sense anger rise deep inside of you. 

“But dear let me reassure you that despite everything, you will come together in the end. For the future of this connection, you have the Two of Cups which signifies a union. It is my soulmate card because as you can see, these two people are sharing, exchanging cups—”

—!!

You slammed your fist on the table abruptly, the cards jumping in disarray. Madame Adora looked at you sadly as you snatched your wrist away, holding it close to your chest. Your eyes were burning with rage, yet the old woman knew that that anger was rooted from deep longing and sadness.

“I don’t want it,” you muttered in a low voice, and then, after a short pause, began shouting as if it would relieve the guilt in your chest. “I don’t want it! I don’t want this! Could you please leave me alone!”

Without waiting for a reply, you ran out from the room, from the shop. You were in no capacity to continue the investigation with your friends when you are in this state of instability. You just want to leave and disappear for a while. 

Just for a while.

◇

Back inside the room, Madame Adora was greeted by Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who were surprised to know that you had left running out of the shop. 

“Ah, did Y/N lose her temper again?” Wonwoo asked as he had heard you shouting earlier. “We must apologize, Madame.”

“No, it is I who wishes for your pardon. I must have hurt your friend,” she replied. “Please give this to her as an apology.” 

The two men watched as the Madame pulled out a small box from one of the desk’s drawers and placed it on the table. They wondered what the Madame had said in the reading that made you lose composure. 

“We will deliver this to her immediately,” Soonyoung replied as he took the box and dropped it inside his pocket. “And thank you for the documents.”

“It is meant for you. I had been called upon to buy the desk which it was stored in, and when you came to this shop in search for such an item, I knew it was meant for this purpose,” Madame Adora replied, intertwining her fingers together. “But more than that, please watch over Y/N.”

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung exchanged glances. “W-we will.”

“Simply watch over her and give her support. She is going through something which only she can resolve.”

As the Madame said those words, her gaze was caught by the single card by her side. It was the card at the back of the deck—usually meant to summarize the energy of the whole reading. 

It was the Lovers.

◇

It was already dreadfully dark when you had decided to return to your dorm room.

The wisteria trees were already a midnight grey, the unlit path, a dark purple. Only a few streetlamps offered illumination through the pitch-black night as you waded through the campus in silence.

You took your time alone—wandering on random alleyways, sitting on deserted park benches, watching people pass by as they live their own lives, with their own problems. Nothing seemed real during those hours of isolation in the midst of the crowd. It was like the pain was too far away for you to reach; the events from that afternoon too far away to be reality.

Yet you knew you needed to return somehow. Thus, with eyes exhausted from crying tears unshed, and the ribbon you used to conceal your soulmate bond in your hands, you opened the door to your dorm room and saw its gauche splendor in shameless display.

With a sigh, you wrapped the ribbon on your wrist haphazardly, not caring if not seemed sloppy as long as the black bars were far from your sight.

Walking to the common room, you scanned the area for your roommate, wondering if he was asleep or still at his office on a Friday night. It would be better if you didn’t see him, you thought. There would be less explaining to do.

Yet the common room was depressingly empty. It had occurred to you that you never even spent much time in there as much as you would’ve liked. Was it simply because you were avoiding him or you were just not interested in sharing the same space with him, you didn’t know.

As you move past the wooden dining table and towards the kitchenette for a glass of water, you bumped into something fleshy and soft which definitely made you shriek and fall onto the floor in a painful thud.

“What…on earth?” you muttered, gradually coming down from your sudden adrenaline rush, your sight refocusing.

To your astonishment, you found one Lee Jihoon lying on the floor, obviously drunk by the whisky which was once inside the bottle he was clinging on to for dear life. Apprehensively, you crawled towards him, to check if he was still breathing. Yet before you could touch him, his dark brown eyes were on to you, still cold and jaded as the nights of December.

“Jihoon—“

You were about to reprimand him for bringing in prohibited alcohol inside the dorms and for sleeping on the floor during a cold autumn day, when you realized that his skin was red. Bright red.

Concern immediately shoots up to your brain as you reach out to him.

“Jihoon!” You exclaimed, shaking him to sobriety. “Jihoon! Are you intolerant to alcohol?”

Despite your concern, he could only hum groggily. “It’s…fine.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? How many bottles have you drunk?!” You asked, looking around and saw several bottles of the same whisky he was holding. “Oh god, you even chose one with high alcohol content! You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“It’s…fine, Y/N. I only had a few… just a few…”

He simply groaned in reply, lying comfortably on the floor without a care in the world. You only stared at him in exasperation, brushing your hair as you sighed.

You felt an urge to just leave him like that on the floor until dawn breaks. He can take care of himself, and being drunk probably isn’t something new to him. Yet you knew you can’t just do that. Whether or not he was Lee Jihoon, you had the obligation to not leave him to die of alcohol poisoning or of hypothermia.

The last one was a stretch, you admit but still, there was no way you could leave him like that as someone who tries to be compassionate at every point of day. At least, the sofa was a lot better than the cold floor.

Reaching for his arm and placing it around your shoulders, you tried to carry Jihoon to the sofa just a few steps away. Yet you hadn’t anticipated how heavy he actually was as you barely dragged him across the room, huffing and panting. You were not one with the best fitness

“Come on, Jihoon. Hold yourself up!  You’re simply too heavy for me to carry!” You exclaimed as you tried not to stumble on the way.

“Mmn…I’m sorry...I’m trying…” he drawled, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused—obvious indications that he has drunk too much for his own good.

Just a little bit…

Taking that one step remaining, you immediately tossed Jihoon to the soft sofa with a long and exhausted sigh. He only groaned, his hair in a disarray. You had only noticed now that he still had his work clothes on: a grey suit piece sans the tie which he must’ve tossed somewhere in the immediate past.

He had his eyes closed as you sat closely to him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. Jihoon seemed to be in peace this way, far from the constant creases in his brow or on his lips. Brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face, you noticed the angles on his face, the fullness of his cheeks, the rosiness of his lips. Was he always this familiar to you? It was a question you had no immediate answers to. Yet you had never anticipated to end your exhausting day with a drunk Lee Jihoon, yet that’s where you are now.

“I should give him some medicine to ease the redness,” you muttered to yourself as you stood up, your mind already listing the ingredients you needed to make one tablet, but before you did, a hand had stopped you in your tracks.

“Please…don’t leave me,” his voice, still lethargic, echoed behind you and you were forced to turn, your eyes captured by his unrelenting gaze.

“Jihoon…” you spoke softly, returning to your seat beside him as you helped him sit up clumsily. “But you’re still flushing.”

“Doesn’t matter…” he replied back, leaning unsteadily until you caught him in your arms. Now he was peacefully resting his head on your shoulder, burying himself into your embrace.

“J-Jihoon…?”

To say that you were wholly surprised was an understatement. You were floundering and unable to make anything out of this situation. This was something incredibly out of character for the Lee Jihoon you thought you knew.

“Y/N…I must….must apologize,” he began, which definitely made you furrow your brows in bewilderment. “I’m so sorry… I—I failed you…”

You stared into the air incredulously, not understanding what page Jihoon was in.

“You didn’t fail me,” you replied back. “You didn’t fail anyone, Jihoon…”

However, it seemed like your words fell into deaf ears as he snuggled up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so sorry…Y/N…please…please forgive me…”

Concluding that this was probably one drunk confession, you allowed him to find comfort in your presence, placing a consoling hand on his back as he continued to apologize to you.

This was a side to him you hadn’t expected to see. It was vulnerable, raw and unapologetically real—words you never thought you’d associate with Lee Jihoon. Yet there you were, as you hugged him back, finding solace in his arms as well when there was no one in the world you could share your burdens with.

“It’s okay, Jihoon…” you replied to him as you closed your eyes. “At least you tried, and it’s good enough for me.”

“Yet…yet…why can’t I feel you…?” he cried out, his voice clearly in pain. “Why can’t I reach you…? I…I always…alwaysss wanted to know you…to hold you like this…”

“Jihoon…”

You wished there was something you could say or do, yet you didn’t even know what he was talking about. It felt like the two of you were talking in a circle of riddles; finding yourselves in different pages.

“Y/N…please don’t be angry…please….please….don’t reject me,” he continued on as if in a trance. “I’m so sorry….so sorryyy….”

There was something in his words, or the way his voice shook that had pierced right through you. You wondered what you had done to him to plead to you like this. Yes, you did push him away a few weeks ago, yet that was the farthest you had gone to hurt him. You couldn’t understand what was happening, nevertheless, you still felt called upon to take action.

Moving your hand, you brushed his soft locks gently.

“I won’t reject you, Jihoon. I won’t push you away. I promise you.”

◇

PARLIAMENT PASSES BILL CRACKING DOWN ON CILVEKAN NATIONALS by Jeon Wonwoo

The Porta Persa Edition, October 27th

 In a historic vote, the Parliament has passed a bill on harsher travel restrictions for Cilvekan nationals as well as an extensive program which allows for the investigation of all Cilvekans in Porta Persa. This bill marks a tantamount win on Rep. Kang Jinho and his Conservative party—warranting a speculation of a bid on the Prime Minister seat.

This soon-to-be law highlights restrictions set on the amount of Cilvekan nationals leaving and entering Porta Persa wherein local governments can monitor their actions inside the country. It is also in the prerogative of the local government to deny entry to any Cilvekan wishing to enter.  According to Rep. Kang, it is necessary to be able to detect any sort of preemptive strike against Porta Persa to avoid endangering the security of the people.

This bill also boasts a program which, in conjunction with the restrictions, shall implement a vast inspection of all Cilvekan nationals present in the country. They are to undergo a thorough investigation conducted by the police and shall be warranted to arrests if ill-intentions against Porta Persa is proven.

With this bill, according to the Parliament, the government shall be able to ensure that the national security of Porta Persa shall not be threatened by any means, even if it meant sacrificing privacy and material gains. Sacrifice is and always will be inevitable on the road to peace…

◇

In the pitch black darkness of the night, echoes of footfalls resounded across the streets of Porta Persa. There was breaking of glass, breaking of wood, and shouts of women. 

Fear was high in the scent of the night. The streets of Porta Pera enshrined by men and women—rounded up in handcuffs and tied by accusations. Half the town was awake and afraid, half the town asleep and aloof. 

The night had just began.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #caratwritersclub #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #woozi #the most convenient escape

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 24 July 1838

4 ¾

9

Charles called us – fine morning – ready in ¾ hour – I had ordered breakfast (café au lait) for A- only .:. I merely took a mouthful or 2 of bread and drank a little water meaning to breakfast on the mountain chez le beau frère de Charles – thankful afterwards that A- had breakfasted odd at 6 10 all clear – the views of this valleys and mountains charming – but in about ½ hour some little clouds passing before us that we should probably come into by and by – in the skirts of them for ¼ hour or 20 minutes and no view till they began to clear off just on our reaching the Plateau de [Marborisa] at 7 33 where we found the man from Gèdre who is to be my guide to the Vignemale waiting for us – a gentleman a few years ago employed him to find the way to the top of this mountain inaccessible on this (the French) side – whether the gentleman was killed in the revolution or what has become of him, the man does not know but he paid him 125fr. on his having discovered the way in doing which the man and his companion who crossed a glacier in the ascent were very nearly lost in a crevasse – the man shewed a little mark or 2 on his hand of hurts then received – but the way he discovered is easy – no glacier to cross, and very little snow to cross – not more difficult than the ascent of Mt. Perdu – 8 hours walking from the last cabane but on Charles’ telling him I was a good walker the man said it would take 6 hours from the last cabane which cabane is 4 hours ride from Gavarnie in the vallée d’Ossonne – the descent upon Boucheron 6 hours – and 6 hours de marche from Boucheron to Penticouse – the descent upon Penticouse 6 hours – For taking us (myself and Charles) to the top of the pic the man asked 30fr. – I said I had been thinking of 20/. to which the man agreed at once I being to find his nourriture  (not much) and give him something on reaching the top, to drink my health with – agreed – (said nothing but mean to give him 5fr. piece) – the man to meet us at Gavarnie this evening and all 3 to sleep at the Cabane leaving A- to sleep at Gavarnie and meet me and Charles at Bouchero at 3pm tomorrow – all settling took about 10 minutes or more .:. it was about 7 ¾ when we were off again – had had a steepish ascent so far ‘une montée rude’ said Charles – 2 hours more of ascent before we reached the cabane at [Poyerabie] at 9 ¾ but it had been clear since leaving the Plateau de Marborisa, and sunny, and the morning delightful – en passant, had had a moments’ peep at the Chapelle de Héas – but we left the cascade de Gloriette at a little distance (left) saw nothing of it – or the pretty wooded slope down into the valley de Héas and this upper part of the valley d’Estaubé, after reading of M. Chausenques’ preferring the valley d’ Estaubé to every other valley of the Pyrenees to pass 2 or 3 weeks in disappoints me? I observed to A- that the meadows looked like English grass plots – the hay just what would come off an English grass plot after 2 or 3 weeks from the last mowing – several peasants mowing and busy in their hay – but very few granges – 2 fine large flocks of sheep on the opposite side the valley farther on – the pasturage let to strangers to people from near Tarbes – Thankful again and again that A- had breakfasted – I began to feel the want of mine – the cabane here (at [Poyerabie]) in the style of that at [Golles]  (on the ascent to Mt. Perdu) – but instead of being roofed by impending rock, all built up with stone and roofed with wooded spars and sods – about 4ft. high within, and long enough and broad enough for the five bergers to sit and churn in (shake their sheep-skin-bags with the milk in them till the butter forms) and to lie down in – perhaps 9 or 10 ft. long and 6ft. bread within § - Charles asked if I would have pâte – yes! would taste it – a little of dead dried grass gathered from the mountain side served to light the little fire of jumper roots and branches which smelt quite fragrant while burning – a largeish pan full of crème (it seemed like one butter milk) with [Q.S.] of Indian corn flour and a little salt was set to boil slowly, and in an hour the pâte was ready – a thick porridge – I should have thought they had put some grease (as in the Gollis soup) in it, if they had not assured me to the contrary – it tasted strong – but really very tolerable – A-liked it – I cautioned her not to eat much saying it was strong – Charles thought it could not hurt anybody – the bergers have no meat – but bread and milk for breakfast and supper and pâte at noon – I did not take much but more as I found afterwards than my stomach would bear – had before eaten some bread (which had luckily been put into A-‘s basket at home to fill up with) and drunk a little old milk (skimmed – petit lait) and I now ate up the bread with butter just fresh churned from the sheep-skin bag, and had also some of the shepherd s’ bread (wheat ½ rue) and made a good breakfast at 11 – having had plenty of time to look about me – the entrance

§ to the cabane about 3ft. high and 2ft. or not so much wide the little fire-place close to it in the south end of the place towards les murailles d’Estaubé

SH:7/ML/E/21/0151

opposite the little fireplace at the south end a little open hole in the north end wall perhaps about a foot square or not so much for the light let in by it and by the door hole or rather entrance hole for no door not enough to shew the countenances of the 2 bergers sitting at a. and b. churning – the middle part the hollow between the 2 bancs was covered with the capes of the bergers and so dark I could distinguish nothing even after I had sat a minute or 2 in the cabin shewing the men my clasp knife which interested them much – but the smoke affected my eyes and sent me out to A- sitting on the sunny walled up (stones and mud) banc at the south outside end of the cabane in which the present 5 bergers had lived 3 seasons – but would be away on the mont de Bergons on the 1st of next month the pacage ici being let aux étrangers from that day – Mt. Perdu from here like a little mammelon [mamelon] on the top of the Marboré – can go by the valley de Cambiel to the vale d’Aure on horseback (Charles’s beau frère, married his wifes’ sister, would be our guide with Charles) but not by the pont de Canaa could only go on foot by the Pont de Canaa – cannot see this port from here – it is at the extremity of the valley de Héas, and hid from here by the mass of mountain parting the 2 valleys (of Héas and Estaubé) could go from here on horseback by the Pont de Pinède, but could not get the horses down on the Spanish side – From the P. de Pinède, Port Vieux, and P. de la Canaa one descends upon Notre dame de Pinède (chapel) – sitting on the outside banc of the cabane, en face des murailles d’Estaubé, le cylindre forms the right end of the cirque; about 1/3 from that a brêche laisse voir la neige sur le versant Septentrionale du Mt. P- and a glacier reaching down to the bottom of the brêche § (i.e. about midway the whole height of the cirque or murailles and about the level of the Pont de Pinède) and Mt. Perdu itself does not appear from here higher than the rest of the cirque, or murailles – glittering cone of snow a mere filling up the end of the brêche – at 1/3 farther the Pont de Pinède, a brêche seeming about twice the breadth of the other brêche – and at 1/3 farther the cirque or murailles terminates in a 2 pointed (rather obtuse-pointed) conical mass of rock and another brêche seeming about ½ the depth of the other brêches, wider than the 1st and less wide than the 2nd, and this last forms the Port Vieux – the left side of this last brêche being formed by the rocky mountain (not lower than the right side 2 pointed mass) that in a long line of mountain which almost immediately from the Port Vieux becomes more or less striped with lines of green – separates our valley of Estaubé from that of the Héas -                       §Ramond escaladé (got up) this glacier steep as it is, but his trouble in vain, Mt. P- being quite inaccessible de ce côté – Spanish smugglers have come along the foot Mt. P- and have descended this glacier –

sometime before arriving at the cabane (from the plateau de Marborisa) perhaps about ½ way Charles pointed out the place near the gave where the man was shot by a Spaniard during the 1st French revolution in the evening of the same day, and with a ball in the forehead in the same place respectfully in which he the man had shot a ball into the forehead of the virgin Notre dame at Héas, in the morning! –

Delighted with our view from the cabane of the murailles (or cirque) d’Estaubé – off from the cabane at 11 50 – our views of Mt. P- now clear, now tipped or streaked with cloud, very fine – to me very interesting, as we climbed up from the cabane higher and higher over l’herbe glissante, or rough slippery rock on which my own feet were scarcely much more those of my little horse (mare) but Charles would make me ride as well as A- who said nothing but went on very quietly – for said Charles you will have plenty to do yet – it was always agreed to take Charles’ beau frère as guide from the cabane but Charles had luckily taken also another of the bergers who, as he said at 1st, had merely gone because he chose to walk a little of the way with us – but a la suite, I know not what we should have done without him – at 12 ¾ stopped 10 minutes for the 2 guides and our 2 bergers to sit down, and wet their lips – (no wonder – la montée était bien rude) – and here the Marboré just in sight – several specimens of contorted rock here – and on the side of the Piméné up to the green just under the Pic – after a desperately hard [?] of it for the horses, alighted at 1 – my horse turned loose and A-‘s and the baggage given in charge of the berger and Charles’s beau frère mounting with us to carry A-‘s basket and cloak and my light tartan ditto and the 2 guides, one on each side of A-, got her on very nicely, I following – we had walked or climbed about 10 minutes or ¼ before and were halting on a little bit of level when my horse cam frisking up to us having scrambled up somehow – the opportunity too good to be lost – A- was mounted – the bridle had been taken off to let the animal graze but the halter was round its neck – and A- literally rode to within a very short distance of the Petite Pic – for we arrived there at 1 48 and out of the 48 minutes from the time of alighting at 1 she had only walked 18 minutes a few stone rudely piled together to mark the Petit to which we had had about ¼ hour of scramble up the bare, scaly (argillo [argile] schisteuse) rock with here and there little while saxifrage and a very pretty little pink flower and pencil geranium etc. growing on the little hedges – very fine, magnificent view from the petite pic of the Marboré, the cirque de Gavarnie and all the sea snow-spotted of mountain tops around, and here we sat down -   I saw that A-‘s head would not, even if her legs would, carry her much higher; for the crête was indeed a crête a giddy narrow ridge along which I felt that my own head in its then aching state would not be trop forte – my breakfast had disagreed with me and I had had more or less of bilious head-ache for the last couple of hours – advised A-‘s not going higher and she willingly took my advice, and we left Pierre with her, and in seven minutes at 1 58 had reached the smutty – it was a glorious sight to look upon – a noble congregation of mountain tops – Vignemale and its glacier the largest in the Pyrenees – the Marboré and its cirque, and its cascade – but the pic d’Astazou hid the glacier-vallon of its source, and thus shut out 1/3 (400ft.) of its fall – Mt. Perdu shewed his head quite clear and towering Spanish mountains formed a fine background on each side the Marboré – the Pont de Bouchero seemed easy – snow lying near the top; but Charles said it did reach the road and A- would get on well tomorrow – the higher valley of Las Espessières seemed parallel with the valley of the P. de Bouchero – Charles pointed out the spot where lay the Cabane at which we were to sleep

SH:7/ML/E/21/0152

tonight, and the 2 pointed hill or lower mountain at the foot of which we were gain the Spanish side of the Vignemale evidently inaccessible from the French side – the 2 men lost 2 years, were lost near the foot of the Glacier (on their way from Cautertz [Cauterets]) – Poor Charles he seems not particularly anxious for the montée – sure we shall have plenty to do – and not sure of the weather – began to doubt what the Gèdre said about the facility of getting up – would like to consult the other man – thought we could hardly get to the cabane tonight– I merely said nous verrons – clouds were already in the distance over Tarbes and the mountains beyond Argeles [Argèles] – the fine clear on the summit had rather relived my head, so that I got down again in 7 minutes better than I had got up – not difficult climbing but so precipitous my head would scarcely carry me – Charles walked down and bade me to do the same which I did in fact he taking hold of my hand saying n’ayez pas peur – marches hardiement [hardiment] – as we stopt cautiously from ledge to ledge – but on getting back to A-, and looking up again, I felt as if I could not tell how we had managed to get up – the crête is so narrow one cannot go along it without seeing down the precipice on each side – poor A- turned her head away and could not bear to see us come down – the grand pic seems a cone with just one ridgy line 4 or 5 ft. or less broad so ledgy that one get up – the area at the top is very small indeed rather oval – perhaps 6 or 7 yards the smaller diameter and 10 or 11 the larger – if so much – the whole of the cone or pic quite bare –

on the Piméné up to the little pic

Thrift

pencil geranium

Daisies

Gentinella

centaury? or a little saxifrage?

little pink flowers the whole plant not growing on the little narrow ledges of the grand pic

Azalea procumbus Wednesday 12 September (vide 4 September)

on the [Coumélie]

lis Martagon

Iris

jumper

rhododendron ferrugineum

aconite

garance sauvage? the root good for toothache

anisette in the wood  close above the road from Gèdre to St. Sauveur  

Left the high pic at 2 25 Friday 27 July back again to A- at 2 32 she had the yolk of a hardboiled egg and we sat looking about us till 3 – the princess! de la Moscowa had been got up to the grand pic – but A-‘s head could hardly bear the petit pic – and indeed the little ridge or crête we sat upon was not more than a few feet (5 or 6ft.) board but the grand pic above the mass of mountain we had ascended below, and the 3 men standing on one side a lower ledge towards the cirque de Gavarnie (west) and on the other the precipice being rather less perpendicular, we sat comfortably – off on our way down again at 3 A- between the 2 guides and getting on very slowly, her head evidently not stronger than the occasion required – at 3 18 reached the place where A- had dismounted we had sent one of the bergers round with the horses to meet us down below on the montagne d’allanz and we had a steep, rough, shingly rocky, untracked scramble down A- getting on slowly till about 3 ¾ when after a scramble down an arête of rock (a wall) we were obliged to cross a piece of steep slippery snow which took us 10 minutes or ¼ hour A- still between her 2 guides and apparently hardly able, from fright or fatigue or both, to drag one foot after the other, or I think we should have passed this only bit of snow in 5 or 6 minutes – dragged on poor A- about ¼ hour farther to warm her feet till 4 20 and she then sat down on a piece of rock, and had a couple of little humps of sugar steeped in brandy which seemed to refresh her – we sat down again at 4 40 but here we had l’herbe glissante – my sick headache which had latterly been very bad here relived itself and as I lay down at a yard or 2 distance from A- my stomach rid itself of the pâte without anybodys’ knowing anything about it till I told A- I felt relived – it was 5 10 before we got to the horses and then a good deal of cloudiness striped (in striped) across the pic d’Astazou and towards the cirque de Gavarnie – we were only just up in time – A- mounted but got off two or 3 times afterwards and walked very well – I walked all the way back till about 10 minutes from the Inn at Gavarnie where we arrived at 7 I more tired from sickness and headache than anything else – the Inn full – but on my saying we must go to Gèdre, the people seemed determined to exert themselves – we dined as I proposed in the garret, and I proposed sleeping there but A- thought it would be close, and some country people turned out of the 4 bedded room over the kitchen and I was comfortable enough tho’ there was about a board-floor between the kitchen and us and every sound was heard – dinner about 7 ½ - A- had a veal cutlet and bread and butter and cheese – I a little weak brandy and water and then a basin of boiled milk and dry bread with a little butter – Charles came at 7 ¼ to say the Vignemale guide was come – Charles afraid of the cloudiness and advised waiting for moonlight – so did A- too late at any rate to go to the cabin tonight and without sleeping there could not possibly reach the summit of the Vignemale in time -  .:. sent word by Charles that I should probably go to the Vignemale a few days hence, 10 days or a week, sooner or later and would let the man know – considering the terms and all that to be fixed – but that if it should happen that I did not go at all, I would give the man a 5fr. piece for the trouble he had already had – this last part of the story Charles thought very handsome, and seemed pleased saying that by this means I was sure of always being attended to – came to our room at 8 ½ - very fine day

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe 5.0 | teaser

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of borderline Stockholm syndrome and Lima syndrome, brief mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, guns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DO NOT love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt.5.5 - pt.6.0

author’s note: hello!~ I know I said this would be the finally but I decided to break the chapters up. Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist~❤

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms​ @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​ @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31​

Release date: 3PM EST - July 21, 2020

When you woke up this morning, you felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. Last night, while you were sleeping, he packed up some basic necessities and put them in his car. He said Yeosang would be by soon to officialese everything and that you could relax until then. But you can’t, you’re head hurts so bad, you want to throw up.

“I was in the other room but I didn’t hear you get up, I would’ve made you breakfast,” Taehyung leans against the bathroom door frame and watches you, you’re dressed and he’s wondering how he missed you waking up and showering. You’re busy brushing your teeth, still wanting to pass out from how bad your headache is, but you decide against it.

“Did you sleep well?” You nod, spitting in the sink with the running water. He tilts his head, already picking up on your change in demeanor. Taking a step towards you, he lifts your chin to get you to look him in the eye, “Hey, I know that face, look at me,” Concern coats his expression and you will yourself to finally look at him, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m just- I don’t know, I’m nervous about all of this,” You walk past him into the bedroom, the beautiful bedroom you’ll probably never get to share with him again, “what if things don’t work out? What if your friend can’t help us, then what?” You sit on the edge of the bed, hugging yourself at the thought, the terror you would endure if this all went south. “I’m scared, I have this bad feeling, it’s making me really uneasy...”

“I know,” Taehyung can’t say he’s never had those thoughts, it plagues his mind too. The thought of no longer having the comfort of each other, the joy in your smiles and laughter being taken, it’s scary. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his with a light squeeze.

“I know it’s scary, and we’re taking a huge risk,” He tilts his head, puppy-dog eyes peering into your weary ones, “but I promise, I’m doing what’s best to keep us safe and together, alright baby?” He caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand, but the affection makes you pout rather than feel better.

“Hey, and guess what? Once this is all over, we’ll be shopping at local markets to buy fresh produce for us to cook with,” He smiles, trying to lighten up your mood with the dreamy idea, “we can paint whatever we can get our hands on, with whatever paint you want, you can write stories and poems during picnics, we could do whatever your heart desires, we’ll have a new life together,” 

He thumbs at the backs of your hands, tugging at your heartstrings to get you to smile. “I’ll even get you a puppy if you want one, doesn’t that sound perfect?”

You can’t help but form a little grin at the thought. “It does...”

“That’s what’s waiting for us bunny, we just have to wait for a little while,” He sits up to cup the back of your neck and places a firm kiss on your lips, so soft and warm but short lived when he pulls away, “so give me a little smile, please?” You oblige, smiling down at him and he pinches your chin with a giggle.

"There you go, that’s my sweet girl,” He stands up and takes you with him, arms wrapped just at your thighs to keep you above ground, “why don’t you go get a few paintings to take with you, while I pack up a few things, and you can wear my favorite bracelet for good luck,”

”Pack?” You sigh, feet hitting the ground when he let’s you go. He slips off the black threaded bracelet and tightens it around your wrist with a smile. “Do you want me to help-”

“You go, I got it,” He holds your head in his hands and kisses between your brows with a audible smooch which made you laugh, “go on.”

With a pat on your butt, you’re making your way out of the bedroom and down to the basement. When you get down there, you realize the number of paintings you have. There about ten to fifteen finished paintings and the others are unfinished. The little story that’s being written is illustrated in these painting, wonder and lover is illustrated in these paintings. In your attempt to pick a few, you notice the little cushion he got for you months ago. Sometimes, it doesn’t even register to you that once you were stuck down here, fighting and dying to leave this please. Now you’re almost in tears at the thought of having to leave.

But you’re new life is ahead of you, you should be happy.

Leu is facing a political nightmare, there’s a chance he won’t recover from this. Scandals happen all the time, affairs, bribery, on rare occasions, perjury. But seldom is a man of his prowess busted for abetting in multiple murders. There’s no coming back from this. He’s been tracking the phone for a few weeks, and only recently did he realize it was active recently. He completely missed it. When he arrived to the police station, he gave one of the detectives the phone number to hopefully track. He’s been waiting in a room filled with computers and busy interns, just waiting for results. When he considers leaving the room for a another bland coffee, he gets a phone call. Looking down at the screen, he sees who it is and decides he needs to answer it.

Yoongi dismisses himself and steps into the hall, “Hello?”

“Jin told me you all found the person who hired the group that killed all those people and took Y/n, is that true?” She sounds hopeful.

“We found him. I can’t reveal too much but we’re hammering down on the search, trying to track the location of the cellphone.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Her voice falters a bit, “there are some sick people out there, I just pray she’s not with one of them.”

He has to cut the call short when one of the tech people waves aggressively to get his attention.

“We just got a location,” The woman beckons him back into the room, “it’s about an hour and a half away from here, in what looks like one of the upper-class neighborhoods on the east-side.”

Yoongi walks over to the computer, eyes skimming over the estimated location of the cellphone. “The phone was traced to that location?”

He’s surprised that your phone would be in such a nice area, but then again he knows what the Hwan Group has been rumored to do. They’ve sold they’re victims to high-paying old men and women who’re looking to fulfill they’re sick desires in innocent people. It’s repulsive. He can’t help the churn he feels in his stomach when the thought of a person being used like that crosses his mind. In his career in the FBI and even as a PI now, he’s seen some shit. And no matter how many times he’s walked in on dead bodies, shackled victims, bloodied crime scenes, seeing people mistreated makes him sick. But what keeps him doing this is the chance, the small but promising chance that the victim might be alive.

“How long was it on?”

“Not sure, but it was turned on about 2 hours ago and then shut off, must’ve died,” She types a string of letters and a another tab pops up, “this is the address.” Promptly, the printer in the corner of the room spits out the paper with the address and she rolls her chair over to it.

“If she’s anywhere, here is your best bet.”

#taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung mafia au #taehyung stalker au #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts assassin au #bts stalker au #bts scenarios #bts mafia au #bts imagines #taehyung imagine #don't breathe #dont breathe #jungkook angst #yoongi angst #bts au

[ralphspina]

Anatomy 201

Taglist: @gottapenny​ @itisjustmethistime​ @indigosandviolets​ 

--------- Maybe he was too tired or too rushed or too distracted or too… something. Whatever the reason was, George had definitely misread his schedule. As soon as the professor had started talking about what a fascinating subject the human body was, welcoming them all to Human Anatomy 201 (decidedly not Engineering Sustainable Architecture), George had muttered a quiet fuck under his breath and pulled up his schedule on his laptop. Apparently, his class was in room 203 at 3pm, not in room 302 at 2pm. Oops.

He could walk out now, but class has started, the professor is already on a roll, and George has nothing to do for an hour. Besides, human anatomy could be considered its own kind of architecture, right? And he definitely wasn't basing his entire decision to stay on the guy sitting a couple seats away. 

Now there’s some human anatomy I’d like to study.

George studies his lecture hall classmate as best he can out of the corner of his eye. The guy is something else with his dark hair, furrowed brow (people shouldn’t look that good with a furrowed brow!), and blue-gray eyes. And his hands - George can appreciate a nice looking pair of hands and this guy’s got the kind of hands that make George’s mind wander a bit too far into the gutter for the middle of class. He blinks rapidly and tries to drag his mind to a more respectable level for his current academic surroundings.

George’s mind wanders to what he’s doing tonight (homework and meeting Perco for dinner - nothing groundbreaking-ly exciting) and it isn’t long before he finds his thoughts churning around the possibilities of what Handsome Guy a few seats over will be doing later. He hazards a glance towards Handsome Guy and is more than a bit startled to find him staring right back. Handsome Guy’s eyes widen slightly and dart back to the front of the room when George catches him looking. Something tightens in George’s stomach and he can’t help the tiny smirk that appears on his face.

George spends the rest of the class daydreaming about how he’ll introduce himself to Handsome Guy once class is over. He won’t have long since his architecture class is just a few minutes after this one ends so whatever he says has to be short and sweet and memorable. For thirty minutes he practices his little spiel in his head as butterflies of both the Nervous and Excited varieties flutter away in his stomach. As soon as class ends, George packs his stuff up as quickly as possible and turns to make his way towards Handsome Guy. It wasn’t quick enough - the guy he just spent the entire class drooling over apparently booked it out of there before George even had a chance to say hi. The disappointment crushes him for a moment but George is not someone so easily deterred - there’s always next week.

And the week after.

And the week after.

And the week after that.

In fact, it takes over a month’s worth of classes before George finally gets his shot. Handsome Guy’s end of class exit is delayed thanks to a chatty classmate and George is right there, waiting in the wings, for his chance.

“That guy can really ramble, huh?” It’s not the spiel George had been practicing for weeks now but in a very un-George-like turn of events, his mind completely blanks once he’s face to face with Handsome Guy.

Handsome Guy’s brow furrows in confusion and he raises a questioning eyebrow at George, “Smokey?”

“What?”

“Smokey, the guy I was just talkin’ to… you mean him?”

George is so thrown by the unexpected (and incredibly attractive) accent that his mind momentarily forgets the original question.

“What? Oh, uh, no, I mean the professor. Old guy really likes to rattle on and on, yeah?”

For a moment, George thinks he’s totally tanked this but a smile slowly spreads across Handsome Guy’s face.

“Yeah, he does.”

George smiles back and offers his hand, “I’m George by the way. George Luz.”

“Eugene Roe. You can just call me Gene. Nice to meet you.”

“Gene? I like it. Never met a Gene before.”

“Ain’t a lot of us. Bit of an old-fashioned name I guess.”

“Alright, well, Mr. Old-Fashioned, don’t suppose you want to grab a coffee or something?”

“Sure. Could use a coffee before my next class. You like Renee’s? They make real good cookies there too.”

Gene’s smile is too warm and inviting for George to correct himself by saying he actually meant getting coffee some other time because he has class right now, so instead he tells Gene how much he loves the double chocolate cookies at Renee’s as they walk out of the lecture hall together.

They’re just leaving the building as they run in to Perco at the entrance. 

“George, the hell you going? Class is the other way.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m just starving. Missed breakfast so I`m going to grab something to eat before I pass out,” George grins and claps his hand on Perconte’s shoulder, “Let me know if i miss anything good ok?”

George watches as his friend's eyes flick back and forth between him and Gene who’s standing quietly to the side watching the exchange.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll see ya later.” And with that, Perco makes his way inside the building leaving George and Gene alone in the entryway.

“You supposed to be in class?”

“Eh,” George shrugs his shoulders, “Sustainable Architecture. Professor basically just regurgitates the book anyway. We still going to Renee`s?” George nods his head in the direction of the cafe and heads out the door, Gene following by his side.

“Sustainable Architecture?,” Gene raises an eyebrow at George clearly puzzling something over, “What’re you majorin’ in anyway?”

“Architecture.”

“Architecture?”

“Mhmm.” 

“So, what’re you doin’ in Anatomy 201?”

“Oh, you know,” George can feel his cheeks redden a bit as he talks, “Just real fascinated by the human body. Especially certain human bodies.” George looks over at Gene and bats his big eyes in a playful, overly-flirtatious manner.

Gene does his best to suppress a grin, but it's’ a losing battle.

“Oh, so just personal interest then?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Life’s short, why not pursue your interests while you can?” There’s a small pause before George adds, “Not that you make it very easy with your disappearing into thin air the second class is over.”

Gene darts a look over at George and chews his bottom lip before saying, “I was tryin’ to avoid distractions. Promised myself I would when I got to college. Was doin’ good to. Until now.”

“Oh, so you think I’m distracting?” George teases. But he’s focused on looking at Gene and digesting the fact that Gene just called him distracting with that look on his face that he doesn't notice the bus stop bench and walks straight into it.

Gene barely chokes back a laugh as he reaches out and grabs George’s elbow, gently guiding him around the bench. 

“You alright?”

“Ha! See? Pretty sure you’re the distraction around here.”

“Guess so.” The smile on Gene’s face as he looks at him is enough to make George’s knees turn into jello. Thankfully, despite his jello knees, George manages to walk the rest of the way to Renee’s without incident, where he and Gene spend more than an hour chatting and laughing and chowing down on cookies. (Gene ends up missing a class too.)

#LuzRoe #george luz #eugene roe #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #i wrote a thing

[nonbinaryezri]

tw: panic attacks and suicidal thoughts

hey lads guess who's having an anxiety attack!!! my stomach is churning and my chest feels tight and i just want to lay down in a hole for a while until things are ok

but i CANT because my best friend might be dead!!!!!!!! she texted me last night talking about how she was suicidal and was going to use the money i gave her to buy poisonous substances to ingest, and i COULDNT FUCKEN HELP HER I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO IM NOT A THERAPIST so shes STILL SUICIDAL today and MIGHT B DEAD bc i HAVENT HEARD FROM HER IN HOURS. this is Not Normal for her either, she always always always reads my snaps within 30 seconds of receiving them and she hasnt read anything ive sent her since 11am (its 3pm now) and honestly im so fucken scared wtf!!! god this sucks.

#suicide #tw suicide #suicide mention #suicide tw #panic attack #panic attack tw #tw panic attack

[along-the-devils-backbone]

NYE D&D session ended early, because everyone was whining about feeling “too tired” and how they didn’t get any sleep -- despite the fact that I’m always having to do shit for them when i’m dead tired/have no sleep/sick as fuck/in extreme amounts of pain. We even bought alcohol, expensive snacks, etc for this D&D session because it’s a special xmas/NY oneshot. Mum literally snored during me describing things. Jim ended up leaving the entire game towards the end, while i was in the middle of describing shit and didn’t understand why i was offended when he just logged off of tabletop sim & discord. Went to bed and cried because i fucking hate being a DM anymore. Nobody’s thankful for the work I do, but turn around and demand it almost weekly & are just thankless assholes... 

I ended up setting an alarm for 7:30pm (even though we went to bed at 3pm) so i could wish adrian a happy new year. Was hoping we could do like we have the past 3 years & do a short call or send a video with kisses or y’know... something. Ended up just saying happy new year when he didn’t respond and went back the fuck to bed feeling like shit.  Woke up half an hour after that & vomited butterscotch all over the toilet. Went back to bed again. 

Had a shitty fucking dream where adrian was trying to be sexy with me, and then kept ditching me every 2 minutes to go talk to his friends. When i laid down to go to sleep, dream-adrian got mad at me that i was upset at him. 

Woke up at 11:30 to my alarm. Woke Jim up. Got yelled at by my mum because we didn’t want to drink alcohol first fucking thing in the morning, even though it was almost midnight (who the fuck drinks butterscotch schnapps as breakfast in this household and why am i being yelled at??) was told i’m not being “festive”. Drank a cream soda instead. 

I’ve also just been informed that Adrian won’t be calling me again today either, because he’s still at a friend’s house. Have no idea what has happened, or is going on at all. Trying to stay positive & happy, but just feeling crushed and ignored instead. 

My Stomach is churning from who knows what, i’m dizzy af, and my daily injection actually hurt like fuck for once. This New Years has sucked fucking ass and I just really want to crawl back into bed... 

#// #personal #mine #delete later #just having a shit fucking couple of days