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escudofracturado · 7 months

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Vicker's Beach, Harborside PARTIES: Finn (@animotoph0bia) & Milo (@escudofracturado) SUMMARY: Two depressed stoners meet at the beach and realize they have a lot in common. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug use, suicidal ideation, and self-harm

Vicker’s was an absolutely gorgeous beach. The fact that he worked in Harborside and got to see the ocean before and after his shifts still felt a little insane. Milo had been a city boy his entire life, and as much as he did love being out in nature, there was a specific kind of energy, of magic to the city that he couldn’t get enough of. The life, the people, the culture, the art, not to mention the food. But he couldn’t deny the beauty of Wicked’s Rest, the more relaxed energy of this small town surrounded by nature. He would even go as far to say that he liked it, if not for all the horrors that seemed to be lurking around every corner.

It’d been a long day. After losing track of time the night before, he had only gotten a few hours of sleep before having to head in for the morning shift. Not only had his manager caught someone trying to shoplift– which he always made a huge deal about– but Milo had to deal with some miserable old lady who had turned what should have been a very simple transaction into A Whole Fucking Thing that had taken about thirty minutes of his life.

So, after clocking out, he made his way to the beach, walking down to a little rocky outcropping where he took a seat on one of the flatter rocks right on the edge of the shore. He just needed to sit and stare at the ocean for a while, watch the waves come in and go out, listen to their crashing, breathe. Milo wished his job was beach. He could be Fuck-Up Ken. Cringe Fail Ken. Dammit, now that song was gonna be stuck in his head.

—

As much as Finn preferred the general concept of ‘inside’ with its ‘no people’ and consequently, less feelings, it was a stretch to say he enjoyed spending time in this new apartment. On most days, it was manageable, when he got to lose himself in work or a video game. On days like today, where his mind was reeling and not even an extra dose of anxiolytics could stop him from sensing (or imagining, it was up for debate at this point) his neighbhours’ feelings, the apartment was a cramped space from hell.

There was still plenty of town to explore but at this hour, most of the inner parts were crowded with people. Walking in a straight line away from civilisation felt as good of a plan as any, headphones on and eyes on the concrete until it turned to cobblestone and finally, rocks. Finn felt drained after passing all of those people, letting his gaze settle on the ocean and then fall out of focus as everyone else’s anxieties and stress and anger dissipated from his mind and body.

He’d always enjoyed the beach, even though trips there had been few and far between. Watching the waves was definitely nice, especially with alt-J as a background noise. Now that it was finally quiet, Finn let himself dig out a smoke and lighter. As he fumbled with the lighter, his gaze finally moved from the orange horizon to the rest of the beach, landing on - fucking hell, another person. He only had the one blunt one him but getting arrested for smoking in public after less than a month in a new town would be a big mess.

Attempting to put away the lighter obviously resulted in him dropping it because honestly, why wouldn’t it? It clattered down the rocky decline, seemingly with a will of its own and a determination to reach the damn ocean with how far it tumbled. Finn winced, slowly pulling down his headphones and risking a glance at the only other person here. Was this about to result in socialization? Fuck.

—

Between the day he’d had and the soothing sounds of water crashing against the shore, Milo was beginning to feel the exhaustion that had created a home in his body. It was always there, had been for years, slowly eroding away at his bones, digging trenches where the daily fatigues could collect like rainwater. He was convinced that it would eventually sink him. Honestly, it was weird that it hadn’t already. It should have. It was all he felt sometimes, all he felt right then. There was a quiet peacefulness to it, to the hollowness of his being, but even that felt a little distant and muffled, just like the rest of his emotions.

At least the beach was nice.

The clattering of plastic on stone startled him out of his daze, and he looked behind him to see a guy standing on the rocks above him. A moment later, he noticed what appeared to be a lighter skittering and bouncing down toward him very quickly. He tried to grab for it, but it just sailed past him, ultimately landing in the water with a plop. Milo went after it, reaching into the shallow water before the waves could drag it away. Shaking off the excess water, he carefully clambered up the rocks toward the stranger.

Now that he was closer and had a moment to look, the guy was kinda cute– shaggy hair, glasses, a few visible tattoos. “Hey. Sorry, man.” He held out the lighter for the guy to take back. It hadn’t been in the water long, but it would probably need to dry out before it would work. “I’ve got a light if you need,” Milo offered.

—

Finn watched in a bit of a stupor as his lighter was fished out from the ocean, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Walking away now would be rude, with this stranger having gone through the trouble of rescuing the cheap lighter, but it was still so very tempting. Thankfully for his future social standing in this town, Finn stayed put, turning off the blaring music in his headphones as the guy made his way up the rocky hill.

“It’s fine,” Finn replied, mustering a smile even as he felt a faint warmth crawling up his neck and to his face. A compliment, he supposed, hair flattened by the headphones and his current shirt just barely having passed this morning’s smell check. Even so, this feeling always made him more antsy when it reared its head around someone of the same gender. Felt more invasive, somehow - what if this guy hadn’t even told anyone? And then Finn was the first person that some poor stranger inadvertently came out to, and this is how spirals start, cut it the fuck out.

Accepting the moist lighter and pocketing it, he glanced around before looking back to the friendly stranger. He really did want a smoke.

“Yeah, alright. That makes you complicit in any case,” he half-joked, pulling the smoke back out from where it had been hastily stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. Maybe he’d just been distracted upon arrival, but Finn could have sworn he’d been alone upon getting to the beach. There hadn’t been a flurry of emotions, just a sense of zoning out, which he’d assumed had been his own. Maybe not… “Sorry, I ruined your ocean watching.”

—

The guy seemed a little flustered, and it left Milo wondering if he was the anxious type. However, he breathed out a laugh at his comment. “Damn, it does, doesn’t it? Think we’ll be fine, though. I haven’t had any problems yet, at least.” Also, this was a college town– he doubted the cops really gave a shit about one blunt. Then again, he had heard that the WRPD was trash, so… Either way, it’s not like there was anyone else nearby.

He dug a lighter out of his pocket, as he brushed off the apology. “Oh, no, you’re fine, dude. I was just kinda vibing anyway.” Did it count as ocean watching if he was mostly just staring blankly ahead of him in a stupor? Sure, he was looking in the direction of the ocean, vaguely taking in the view, but he also wasn’t really looking at anything. He hadn’t even been listening to music or anything. Totally cool, normal neurotypical behavior, right?

Flicking the lighter, Milo cupped a hand around the flame to shield it from the breeze as he held it out toward the other.

—

Accepting his new partner in crime and the reassurance that no one would probably care allowed Finn to relax. A bit, it was hard to relax completely when most of your life had been a steady state of anxiety. At least this particular interaction wasn’t flooding him with emotions - he could deal with the awkwardness of a slight attraction, deal with it meaning he could forget it ever happened and try to ignore every hint of it. “Fair enough.”

With the lighter held out, Finn got a better view of tattooed forearms, the random array of art reminding him way too much of his own insane assortment and bringing a flicker of a smile to his face. Accepting this guy as a kindred spirit helped Finn not be completely weird about leaning in close to a stranger’s hands - the smoke finally getting lit also helped. “Decent place to vibe,” he breathed out, deflating with the release of all this pent up energy. “The no people thing is definitely a plus.”

Sighing contently, Finn plopped down to the ground, taking another drag before politely holding it up towards the stranger. He wasn’t really sure whether or not he wanted the guy to actually accept it, not usually the one to actively long for company. It had been a while since he’d had some actual social interaction, though… “I’m Finn, by the way.”

—

There was something about being in such a beautiful place while being acutely aware of the emptiness inside that made reality feel intangible. The salty scent of the ocean, the pale sand, the late afternoon sun, it all combined in a way that nothing about it felt real to him. His body, like an anchor, felt like the only thing keeping him tethered to the space and time Milo currently found himself. Meanwhile, his mind was somewhere above the two young men, looking down upon the scene.

Running a finger over the heated metal as he pocketed the lighter again, he shocked himself into his body somewhat. He wondered if he should leave the guy to do his thing. He seemed to wasn’t giving off the vibe of someone who really wanted to chat with a stranger– especially with the added comment about how it was nice that there weren’t people around. The last thing Milo wanted to do was annoy the dude, but he found himself a little desperate for the human interaction, for anything that might ground him, distract him from his thoughts or, god forbid, the emotions that were always lying in wait for an opportunity to dig in and drag him under.

But Finn surprised him, offering him the now lit blunt and introducing himself. So, he went along with it, taking a seat near him, and offering him a small smile. “Oh, thanks, man.” He took a hit, some of the heaviness easing up as he exhaled the smoke. “Milo,” he said, voice soft as he passed it back. “Nice to meet you. Always fun to find a new partner in crime.” It was a stupid little comment, but he grinned nonetheless.

—

It was faint. So faint and… familiar in a sense, that Finn hadn’t noticed it at first. The blankness, for lack of a better word. It was like a strange hole, or a really heavy blanket that somehow managed to not be comfortable, yet just slightly different from the one he himself indulged in when fully and completely alone. It also felt different to how his father’s had felt, that had felt a bit more like… being underwater. The second the feeling faded, Finn’s thoughts returned to the presence. And it looked like Milo had been too deep in his own hole to notice.

Now curious, and a bit empathetic, Finn found that he didn’t mind Milo accepting the offer to join him. And whatever the younger man felt wouldn’t matter in a moment, since Finn could already sense the detachment easing over him, like the smoke filling his lungs could blow away the ability to feel - both his and anyone else’s emotions. Smiling back, the gesture filled with much more ease than it would have been just a few minutes ago, he took another drag and let the shoddily rolled blunt hang from his fingers. “Yeah. Just a couple of losers smoking pot on the beach.” He paused, glancing over at Milo. “No offense.”

He let his eyes linger on the other a moment, reading into him like a normal person would, not with the advantage (or cheating) of literally reading him. Pretty normal looking, all things considered. Seemed to get a decent amount of sunlight, had a kindred knack for tattoos and- The surprised laugh came out sounding more like a snort and Finn quickly scrambled to explain the random outburst. “Oh, fuck off. That’s…” As he spoke, oh so eloquently, he pulled back his sleeve to reveal the reason for his amusement. “Here I was thinking I would be unique in this town.” On his bicep, now turned to face Milo, was a fine line box with words. The same exact words that decorated the other’s forearm. Despite everything, it’s still you.

—-

The weed seemed to be doing its thing, as Milo could feel some of the tension he had noticed upon first making his way over melt away with each exhalation of smoke. It was something he enjoyed about smoking with others, noticing them ease up, get out of their head a little. It always helped tear down his walls and filters with others, generally just helped him to relax. He was probably leaning on that a little too much these past several months, but, like, fuck, he needed something. And it was better than… other things.

He chuckled. “None taken, I’m absolutely a loser, gg, you got me pegged immediately. And, I mean, hey, the beach is a pretty nice place to get high.” Milo turned his focus back to the scenic ocean view in front of them. “This town’s, like, stupidly pretty,” he murmured. He hated the draw Wicked’s Rest had on him, even when he knew how dangerous and chaotic it was here. And, he really hated that Luci seemed determined to stay in spite of the dangers. The fuckin’ rammys of my actions. Exhaling with a sigh, he was brought out of that line of thought by the other’s laugh.

Eyebrows raised, he turned to face his new companion, a questioning look on his face and a small smile already on his face from the sound of Finn’s snort. When the other began to pull up his sleeve, Milo’s confusion only grew. That is, until he noticed the words inked onto his skin. A laugh bubbled out of him at the coincidence, and he held up his arm, gaze darting back and forth at the two nearly matching tattoos. “I mean, Undertale’s a great fuckin’ game,” he shrugged, amusement written all over his face. Shaking his head, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He’d never met anyone with the same tattoo before. “That’s… Yeah. Two losers with the same tattoo smoking at the beach, I guess.”

—

Finn’s big mouth had an impressive reputation for getting him into trouble, everything ranging from hurting people’s feelings to his own face doing the hurting. So it was a relief that Milo seemed to vibe with the sentiment, understand the sarcasm, however much truth it was laced with. Because they were just being a couple of losers, weren’t they? Didn’t people have shit to do at this time of day? Meet up with friends or partners, go home for family dinner, anything else than trying to drown your feelings alone on the beach? Well, not entirely alone anymore. “Game recognize game, I guess,” he shot back, easy smile settled on his face, thoughts drifting in and out of focus but not in the bad kind of way.

The tattoo revelation seemed to shock and amuse Milo just as much as it had Finn, the two definitely starting to look the part of stoners as they sat there, staring at each other’s arms with stupid smiles on their faces. “Great fucking game is an understatement. I could code a game like that, easy, but the fucking story would never compare,” he sighed wistfully, letting his heavy head drag him closer down to the ground, now propped up by his elbows.

“Yeah… basically the same person, seems like.” Finn took one more drag that he definitely didn’t need before the next round of mistake left his mouth. “Complete with dissociation and depression. Quite a package deal.” It took him a moment too long to realize that he obviously wasn’t supposed to know this much. Took him even longer to realize he should care, but then he just… didn’t. If Milo got angry or freaked and walked away, that would just be getting straight to the inevitable. Even though the thought of having a buddy to smoke with, someone who had the same tattoo for fuck’s sake, was achingly appealing in his current state.

—

‘Game recognize game’ was absolutely the most dorky, loser ass response and Milo loved it. So far, Finn seemed like someone he could be friends with– good friends, maybe. And the tattoo thing really felt insane. He knew it shouldn’t and that there were likely a lot of people with the same or a very similar tattoo, but coming across one was throwing him a bit. A lot of his tattoos were just fun, random bullshit, but that was one that meant a lot to him. It was a moment in a game that he loved that had hit him hard, and the tattoo sort of served as a reminder that after everything he’d gone through growing up, he managed to survive. He had to wonder if it held that same kind of meaning to Finn, or if he was just projecting that onto the other.

He grinned at Finn’s enthusiasm for the game. “Yeah, it’s such a good story and unique game style, and the fuckin’ soundtrack’s so good. Really, such a masterpiece of a game. Toby Fox, I love you, please make more games,” he said, throwing the words out into the void. Milo could talk a lot when sober, so he jumped onto the bit of information before he could continue rambling about the game. “You code, though? That’s super fucking cool,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “Are you a game designer or something? Or is that just the dream?”

Chuckling at the comment, he nodded. They did seem to share some common interests– to the point that they shared a tattoo– and Finn seemed pretty nice and chill. Between his company and the drugs, he felt so much more relaxed than he had before. But then he continued speaking, and once again Milo turned to the man in confusion, a slight panic rising in his chest. Was he so obvious that this stranger could read him after such a short amount of time? He couldn’t just know that, right? “How–” He genuinely wasn’t sure what to say, ultimately just repeating himself, “How?” The panic pooling at his sternum made him blurt out the question on his mind. “Am I that obvious?”

—

“Just the dream,” Finn had sighed, sharing this dumb and seemingly unreachable milestone with a stranger that currently didn’t feel like a stranger. Whose sentiment at shouting wishes into the voice he definitely shared. And then he had gone and fucked it all up, predictably. Where the two had seemed to be settling into an unspoken moment of leaning back and just being, Milo broke it by shooting up straight. Not his fault, obviously, since Finn - like on so many occasions - was the fuse.

Milo was unraveling, his panic piercing through even the dull haze of the weed, and Finn forced himself to focus. Because even after only ten freaking minutes, he kinda liked the kid. “Woah, hey, just…” Finn sat up straight, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to say something that wasn’t just complete shit and would cause a further spiral. Something he was usually terrible at. “No, you’re not that obvious. You seem really chill, dude. Okay?” He sighed and under different circumstances, would have taken a second to think on his next sentence, but he didn’t currently have that privilege. “I just… feel shit, yeah? No better way to put it.”

Legs crossing, unfocused gaze made an attempt to settle on Milo. The guy who’d had the decency to save his poor lighter and offer the weirdo at the beach company. “It just slipped out because… honestly, fucking same. I didn’t even realize I was feeling your shit for a while because it just felt exactly like my shit. So like… your secret’s safe with me, or whatever.” Providing as much explanation as he could muster, Finn let himself sink back against the rocks, waves providing a sarcastically calm background for the panic he had caused. “Now’s your cue to call me a weirdo and bolt, by the way.”

—

There was such a familiar wistfulness to his sigh that Milo could almost feel the ghost of its ache in his chest. It made him even more curious about the other, if he really was capable of making such a piece of art, if there was something that held him back. What was Finn’s deal? Well, aside from reading him like a goddamn book.

Years ago, a friend had casually mentioned how even before they were friends, she had noticed he was sad, and that comment had felt like a punch to the gut. Granted, she was ridiculously smart and observant, and she had seen herself in observing him, but still. If she had been able to see him struggling just from her bored people watching during classes, then shouldn’t any of the adults in his life be able to do the same? Not that he really wanted them, or anyone for that matter, to perceive him or call attention to anything. But he was a kid, and deep down he did just want someone to notice and care and figure out how to make it better, how to fix things, fix him. Instead, he was stuck suffering through his adolescence with a brain that wanted him dead. So, there was something about being seen so clearly by a stranger that felt a little devastating to Milo.

But… I just feel shit. Finn could just feel that he was depressed and dissociating? Feel how? Like he ‘had a feeling about it,’ or did he literally mean he could feel it feel it? Because one option was significantly worse than the other.

He didn’t even really question the possibility of it, and that in itself made him feel a little insane. But how could he really question it? He was a fucking witch, from a family of witches, who was friends with a zombie, a werewolf, and an oread. Winter, who could see ghosts, kept calling him X because she had thought he was a mutant. His sister could probably turn water into wine if she really wanted to. This guy could somehow feel that Milo was an absolute dumpster fire of a human? Sure, why the fuck not? Finn could feel the chaos in his head, and hadn’t even noticed because he felt the same way. Fucked up if true, and he couldn’t see how the hell he would be able to know with such certainty if it weren’t.

There were so many questions running through his head, but he was kinda high and baffled, and he couldn’t find the right words to ask. “You feel it?” he asked, finally, quietly. His emotions, the crushing weight of them, the emptiness, could he really feel them? Did he really share in them? The idea made him feel so incredibly uncomfortable while also breaking his heart a little, however, there was also a weird sense of camaraderie and even ease at the prospect of being around someone who truly understood. Maybe he hadn’t totally been projecting with his thoughts on their tattoo after all?

He wondered how much Finn knew, if he should share his own weirdo status, if he would even believe him, especially without any sort of demonstration on his part. This guy he’d met less than thirty minutes ago already seemed to know him– the real Milo– more than most people, and he didn’t know what to do with that. So, he laid back on the rock, staring up at the partly cloudy sky. “This fucking town’s totally ruined the meaning of weird for me, honestly,” he sighed.

—

Everything felt muffled, like trying to make out words underwater, except it was feelings Finn was trying to get a read on. Not trying very hard, granted, because it still and always would make him feel icky. Like a peeping tom. A more capable person probably would have intervened, attempted to slow the roll of what was obviously a melt down in process, but Finn wasn’t even capable of slowing his own roll on a good day, much less do it for someone else. So he stayed quiet, at least giving Milo the decency of not staring at him while the inner turmoil continued. Simply holding the blunt where it could be reached, as if that was any consolation.

Milo finally spoke, and he didn’t sound as completely bewildered as he should have. Maybe people in this town believed in psychics and shit like that. “Yup,” Finn replied casually, popping the ‘p’ and then sighing as he readjusted his position on the harsh rocks. “Yours, everyone else’s, all the time. Well, most of the time. This helps,” he explained, taking another smoke from his saving grace to prove the point. “This and sometimes the meds mom prescribed because she thinks it’s probably schizophrenia.” It only felt fair to overshare, since Finn had accidentally blurted out Milo’s deepest feelings.

And he wasn’t leaving. Finn was talking about the shit that had made his school counselor and every therapist cock their head in a concerned way and scribble something down. Either Milo was just curious to see where this nutcase story was going, or he genuinely didn’t think Finn was crazy. It didn’t matter much, he was really just kinda thankful for the change in reaction.

—

When he’d read about empathy powers in, like, comics and shit, Milo had always thought it sounded pretty miserable. The same with any telepathic powers, really. Just being bombarded with people’s thoughts and emotions all the goddamn time? He could barely deal with his own emotions, thank you very much, and his heart was already too soft and large for his own good, anyway. It was hard enough being the average kind of empathetic in the world they lived in, being an actual empath seemed like way too much of a burden.

And here Finn was, telling him that he carried that exact burden, right after reading him for filth.

“Is your mom a psychiatrist?” It shouldn’t have been the next question out of his mouth, considering the current topic of conversation, but it was what his stupid high brain latched onto. It was certainly the more easily digestible fact. He was neither high enough, nor sober enough, for this one. However, the guy wasn’t trying to, like, eat his organs or spit acid at him or throw him into a body pit or something. At least, not yet. So, you know, that was a step up from the last time Wicked’s Rest decided to totally blindside him.

Milo gazed up at the sky, watching for a moment as a group of seagulls flew past, before suddenly pulling himself back upright. “Okay, but, like, deadass?” he asked, watching the other curiously. “Like, you’ve got the Jean Gray, ‘I feel other people’s emotions,’ empath thing going on?”

—

The question made Finn snort with laughter because it was fucking hilarious, wasn’t it? His mom’s profession and the irony of it throughout his whole life had never been lost on him but something about hearing this question now, the something most likely being weed, was insanely funny. “Fuck yeah, she is,” he chuckled - even now, every argument about medication or trying a new therapist just felt like the sickest, but still most enjoyable, joke. “I’m the one case she can’t crack,” he sighed, attention drifting from the conversation at the sight of a particularly fluffy cloud passing overhead.

Focus snapped back at Milo’s sudden movement, head swiveling to watch him go through his revelation. Smiling, a bit lopsided in an attempt to keep his face serious, he nodded. “Deadass. Without all the cool stuff, though. No thoughts, no context. No blowing shit up, which is probably good since I can’t even control this fucking thing.” Resting his head back, Finn kept one eye open to peer at Milo, faint smile still clinging to his face despite talking about the thing he hated most.

“You’re kinda cool, dude. For a stressed and depressed guy, at least,” he added jokingly, something akin to fondness coating the words. Considering how the day had started, Finn wasn’t hating how it had ended. Sure, he’d probably regret telling his weirdest, freakiest secret to some random guy he’d met on the beach, while high. But for now, it felt like the greatest idea he’d had in months.

—

His laugh made it hard for Milo to keep a straight face. But his response sent a pang of concern through the younger man as he processed what he said. Finn's mom didn't believe him about his abilities, then? She had him on some kinda antipsychotics, thought he was schizophrenic. Jesus. "I guess the DSM doesn’t exactly cover empathetic– empathic?– abilities..."

Okay. He couldn't read thoughts. That was good, Milo wouldn't have to give up on his life on land and jump into the ocean, never to come back. (Distantly, he wondered if mermaids existed, and was immediately grateful the other man couldn't see the full extent of his mess and dumbassery.) He supposed Finn probably wouldn't have stuck around to talk if he could see into his mind, see all the awful, rotten parts of him. But he could feel it, felt it himself, even, and that was something Milo wouldn't wish on anyone.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "It sucks, not having control." He could feel his heart beating through his chest, feel the pulse around the hollow cavern in his chest. Jaw clenched, he held his breath as he felt it reverberate through the empty pit, sending a deep ache straight through him, and through Finn, too, presumably.

"For a stressed and depressed loser, you mean?" he shot back, an easy grin on his face. "Back atcha, man." Maybe it was the weed or the exhaustion, or maybe it was the tattoo or the oversharing or the way Finn implied they were like the same person with similar emotions, but Milo didn't care enough to feel uncomfortable. He knew he probably should, seeing how Finn could literally read his emotions, but it wasn't something the other could control, right?

No, instead of discomfort, there was an odd sense of ease, of comfort, almost as if they were old friends who were becoming reacquainted. …that was def at least partially because of the weed, but still, he liked the guy. It seemed he had found yet another addition for their ever-growing band of weirdos.

#self harm tw #drug tw #drugs tw #suicidal ideation tw #writing #wickedswriting #collab #animotoph0bia #wr finn

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whumps-and-bumps · 2 months

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Xenophobia - The Date

[CW: depression vibes, kidnapping, drugs/sedation, dehumanisation, bbu-adjecent, vomit mention/bodily fluids, branding, death mention] [Masterpost/Contents] [Previous]

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･. :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Xen checked themself in the mirror for what could have been the fiftieth time. They didn’t have many outfits to choose from, but they did the best with what they already had, since a shopping trip for special date-night clothes was out of the question. They squeezed into their newest jeans instead and their softest plaid shirt, and ended up fiddling and tucking and untucking and smoothing everything out for far longer than was strictly necessary. They hoped Salia wasn’t planning on taking them somewhere upscale and posh. The last thing they needed was to be made to look like as big of a fool as they felt.

They checked their phone for the time, and ran their hand through their hair once more before finally turning away. They were clean, they were doing their best, and this was the real them. It was all they could do.

There were multiple points on their walk to the park where they nearly stopped and turned around, but by some miracle Xen made it to the bandstand a few minutes early nonetheless. They had made sure to leave plenty of extra time for this exact reason - that, and there was always the possibility the walk would make them sweaty and stinky and that was the last thing they wanted to be on a first date. They still couldn’t quite believe Salia was interested in them; whilst it would never cross their mind to think such things about other people, they couldn’t find a single thing about themselves that they genuinely liked. Their face was too round, their body too chubby, hair too flat and they swore up and down that their shoulders had a weird slope to them. At least they tried their very best to always be kind and helpful to make up for it, but turning up to a first date with an offensive smell about them would not make things easier.

At this time of year it was thankfully still pretty light out, so Xen was totally at ease sitting on the steps of the bandstand as they waited for the mothfolk to arrive. The evening air was still warm, the setting sun lighting up the clouds with magnificent orange and pink hues – it was the a perfect atmosphere for a romantic date. The only other people in the park were a couple of dog walkers off in the distance, heading up the hill and presumably home for dinner. Xen’s stomach rumbled a little as they wondered what Salia had planned – they hoped it was a picnic.

A few minutes after six and with still no sign of her, their nerves had turned into a vibrating swarm of anxiety in their belly. They told themselves it was normal to be late – nobody else obsessively counted down the seconds on the clock – but they couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Salia had stood them up, that she was always going to stand them up, and that this whole thing was all a big joke. Maybe she was nearby, watching but never intending to approach. Maybe she was laughing with her friends, taking a video of the pathetic nerd who sat there waiting because they dared to think that somebody might want them-

“Excuse me, you’re Xen, right?”

They stood up immediately, their joints clicking and all the blood rushing to their head. Through the brief dizziness, they saw that the pink mothfolk that had approached them bore a striking resemblance to Salia, but was clearly not her; he was decidedly masculine in appearance with his short cream hair styled back and gelled, whereas Salia’s had been fluffy and messy and soft– or at least it had looked that way in her photos, and Xen would have passed it off as her profile just being filled with older pictures if their general aesthetics weren’t entirely different too. Salia had consistently presented herself as sweet and rosy, preferring big sweaters and fuzzy socks over elegant fashion. The man before her wore a designer tracksuit and a gold chain. Only their wings were exactly the same, both a shimmering pink and yellow that reminded them of macaroons and ice-cream. He wasdefinitelystill cute, though.

“Oh, hi! Yes, I- um, Salia, right?” they replied in greeting, not wanting to be rude. Genders changed all the time, this could be a recent thing, and it wasn’t like it really mattered.

He laughed, though, and they felt stupid. “No, no. She’s my sister.” He held out his hand for Xen to shake, and they took it. “She asked me to come along with her to meet you – you know how dangerous online dating can be these days. We wanted to make sure you weren’t some weirdo.”

Xen laughed too, still shaky with surprise and a little relief. “Of course! I totally get it, don’t worry,” they said brightly, giving him a firm handshake and hoping they weren’t too clammy. He wiped his hand on his tracksuit afterwards and they died a little inside.

“She’s actually set up a little evening picnic for you both, but realised at the last minute it probably wasn’t a good idea to meet a total stranger in the park after dark on her own,” he explained with a smile. He glanced over Xen’s shoulder and tilted his head. “Are you okay? Did you bring anyone with you too?”

Warmth filled Xen’s cheeks as they shook their head. They didn’t have anyone to bring even if they’d wanted to. “Nah, I think I might have been a little too trusting,” they grinned instead. “Things like that don’t really happen to me – like, weirdos just don’t seem to take much of an interest. Thankfully.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Okay… Well, if you’re happy to follow me, I’ll take you to where she’s set up and leave you two lovebirds to it?”

“Please,” Xen breathed out, trying to release the tension that was building in their shoulders from this awkward conversation. ‘Things like that don’t really happen to me’ – god, they sounded so pretentious and conceited. They couldn’t blame her – either of them- for being cautious. Online dating was bloody terrifying, and Salia was beautiful. They dreaded to think how many times things might have gone wrong for her, how many close calls she might have had. They checked their mobile was still in the back pocket of their jeans with a little pat and joined her brother on the path, ready for him to lead the way. At least he seemed lovely.

It wasn’t far to go – after a few steps, Salia’s brother veered off the little path and led them towards one of the many copses in the park. A single, quiet alarm bell started to ring in the back of Xen’s mind but they shoved it away. They knew this place. It was just a few trees and a couple of bushes in the middle of the green – not some mysterious, endless forest with nobody around for miles. They used to climb these exact same trees all the time - thick branches both ran low along the ground and high into the sky, making it the perfect playground. They should probably figure out what kind of trees they were one day. They also knew that inside the cluster of trees was a small clearing, the dirt well-packed and flattened by thousands of other visitors over the years. The more they thought about it, the more perfect the spot seemed for a romantic picnic – it was intimate, not isolated.

“She’s set up just in there,” her brother was saying, the two of them having made idle small talk on their way over. He paused just short of the trees, gesturing vaguely at the easiest route inside. They could kind of see a patterned picnic blanket through the leaves and branches, but hesitated anyway – that stupid alarm bell was still going off in the back of their mind. They wished it would go away. It was probably just nerves! This was it, this was the real first date, and the butterflies in their stomach were just from anxiety, not an awful gut feeling. They should stop assuming the worst of people all the time.

“Thank you,” they said instead, giving him their best smile back. “Are you, uh…”

“I’m just gonna say goodbye to her before I leave. I’m not staying, don’t worry,” he teased, holding a branch out of the way and motioning for them to hurry up. That wasn’t what they were going to ask, but whatever. He probably had places to be. Before they could let themselves chicken out for good, they ducked under his arm and pushed their way inside. Deep breaths. Stay calm.

It was a lot darker in there than they thought it would be, with the sun now so low in the sky. Once they were clear of the first layer of branches, they had just enough light and time to process that there were three figures stood around the picnic blanket instead of one, before a large pink hand grabbed their face from behind and dragged them to the side.

He covered their mouth and their nose to keep them quiet as they cried out in surprise, and a split second later a sharp pain stabbed them in the side of their neck. He shushed them, easing them onto their knees as their body weakened but grabbed a fistful of their hair to force them when they resisted. Still, Xen kept trying to wriggle free – they needed to run, they should have already run, they should never have come at all - but they were losing feeling in both their arms and legs too quickly, and their vision turned spotty and dark. They couldn’t see. They couldn’t breathe. His hand clamped down even tighter over their nose as the three strangers closed in on them, securing their wrists and ankles with zipties whilst they were too scared and disorientated to fight back.

They could just about feel a warm, wet mouth bite down on the inside of their wrist before it went fully numb. A scream bubbled up their throat but died as quickly as it began, muffled by the hand and choked by tears. “O positive,” a voice said distantly.

With everything now in total darkness and their body useless, the last thing they felt before they went under was the sting of a second syringe.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Maybe it had all been just a dream – a horrible stress nightmare before their first date. That was more likely.

Things like this just didn’t happen to people like them.

Xen’s mind was too cloudy still to think clearly, but they often felt like this when waking up in the morning. It wasn’t unusual for them to drift in and out of a hazy dreamland. No amount of convincing themselves otherwise would change the truth.

Their body hurt. When they tried to open their eyes, they still couldn’t see; they tried to sit upright, but their arms and wrists were bound tightly to their sides with what felt like packing tape. They were hot and clammy, their skin sweating profusely - but even if their legs hadn’t similarly been bound together, there were no blankets for them to kick off the bed. They were not at home. This was not a dream.

Strong hands rolled them over and over on whatever surface they were laid on, rolling them up in some kind of plastic; it took them a moment to place it before they groggily realised it was bubblewrap. They tried to open their mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, to beg for help or freedom or even just to cry out - but it was taped shut and stuffed with cloth. As soon as they realised, panic finally hit them like a tidal wave and they began hyperventilate.

They were drugged.

They were bound.

They couldn’t breathe.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The next time they came round, they no longer had any hope of it being just a bad dream. The sensations were far too real: the tight blindfold of bubblewrap and packing tape around their face, the rumbling of large wheels over old tarmac, the musty smell of sweat and plastic and piss – they were still groggy, but it was visceral. They fought hard not to panic again. Their mouth was still taped shut, breathing calmly and through their nose was their only option. Freaking out would only make it worse.

Despite being blindfolded, their head was still spinning. Every bump and pothole sent spasms of pain up their spine until they couldn’t figure out which way was up and which was down, and when the vehicle swerved around corners they slid around like loose baggage. Sometimes they hit things that were soft, sometimes they hit against the wall. They tested their ability to move, hoping they may be able to brace themselves at least a little bit when the next slam came; but although the paralytic Salia’s brother had given them had now worn off, they were bound far too tightly to do much more than twitch their fingers and toes.

Salia’s brother…

Tears welled up behind the blindfold. How could they have been so stupid?

After what could have been hours, the vehicle finally turned for the last time before slowing right down to a crawl. After a brief stop and a pause, it then slowly began to reverse - if the muffled beeping was anything to go by. It was parking. They had arrived. This was it.

The engine was turned off, leaving everything eerily still and quiet until Xen heard the unmistakable sound of the rear doors being unlocked. Light just about hit their eyes through the plastic and tape as they swung open and a blurred figure climbed inside; they quickly squeezed them shut again, their breathing picking up and their body starting to shake in its wrapping. The newcomer didn’t notice. They likely didn’t even care. They began to unload the back of the van, calling over other people from outside to help them get everything done faster.

“Brace yourself, this one’s heavy.”

“Okay, take it through – yeah, through those doors there.”

“This one’s a wriggler, make sure you get a good grip on it and don’t let go.”

The voices were barely audible through all the layers of plastic around them, but before Xen could process what they were saying there was a grunt and a heavy thud, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Someone berated someone else for potentially damaging a product, another person yelled for them to stop talking and keep working, but despite the noise all Xen could focus on were the soft groans and whimpers coming from the dropped body.

They were not alone.

It was an awful comfort, knowing that someone else was going through this hell with them. Were there a dozen others? Were there more? They had no way of knowing.

The footsteps came closer again. They shouted out around the gag the best they could whilst someone grabbed their legs, quickly slinging them over their shoulder like they were no more than a sack of potatoes. Struggling had no effect either, so they tried screaming again - but with the fabric stuffed into their mouth they may as well have kept silent. It didn’t matter. Nobody was listening anyway.

They were carried unceremoniously into the building that contained their fate, only aware they had crossed a threshold when they heard another door open and close. It was impossible for them to tell how much time had passed since that stupid date – it was light out, so it was probably the following day but with the amount of drugs in their system it could just as easily have been a week. Their mouth was dry enough that they weren’t able to drool on the gag anymore, and the hollowness in their stomach could easily have been from fear instead of hunger. It was only as they became properly coherent and awake that they realised – in abject horror - that their lower half was sticky and damp and disgusting.

Everything was still contained within their clothes and the bubblewrap, but now they were aware of it, the smell hit them like a sledgehammer. So, it had clearly been long enough that at some point they had emptied themselves. Whilst unconscious. They must have been in that van for days – unless the drugs had something to do with it, of course, which was still very much possible. If any part of them had previously had the strength left to feel hungry, it was definitely wiped out now.

Xen had no idea when they had last been given cocktails of drugs, but it was clear nobody had bothered to administer more for a while now. The further inside the building they got, the more awake they felt, and the faster their terror was catching up with them. They wished someone would stab them in the neck again. If they had been allowed to stay unconscious, then they wouldn’t have to know what was happening to them - they wouldn’t feel any of that anxiety or fear, they could just slip away into the light when their time came. As long as they were awake and sober, they would be forced to actually experience everything. They would be forced to feel.

The person carrying them tossed them onto a table with a thud. Xen groaned as they were rolled onto their stomach; though winded, the bubblewrap had actually protected them a bit from the force of the impact - just not the shock of it. A hand then pushed down onto the back of their head, holding them firmly in place – instinct took over, and they thrashed around in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. Despite their best efforts and garbled pleas, a small blade was pushed into the bubblewrap at the top of their neck, and the stranger slowly dragged it down length of their spine. Curiously, though, they made sure to only cut the wrapping and tape. Xen wasn’t so much as nicked, they realised -

They were being opened like a fucking parcel.

Their efforts to escape didn’t earn them so much as a reprimand. They writhed around the best they could, but with their arms and legs bound so tightly together, they felt like a worm trying to crawl from a bird. They probably wouldn’t ever be thought of as anything more, now.

The stranger continued to remove the rest of the bubblewrap, turning them over and cutting away as needed then discarding the scraps in a nearby bin. The tape around their limbs was unfortunately left intact, but at least they could feel air on their skin again. The last of the packaging to be removed was, of course, the plastic over their head. It was a miracle they had still been breathing at all – despite all the disgusting smells, they couldn’t help but to inhale deeply as soon as their face was free. It only burned a little.

Xen blinked up at the person – a werewolf, they realised - that was handling them. Their eyes were still blurred with tears, but they wanted to at least put a face to whoever was deciding their fate. As he worked, he looked at them with such indifference that Xen had no doubt he’d done this hundreds of times before and not once recognised the horror of it. They expected him to be ugly, maybe; ugly and cruel and haggard, like a true cartoon villain, but he was just some guy. Someone they might have passed on the street a thousand times without a second glance.

Now that they weren’t blindfolded by tape, they could see they were definitely in a warehouse or processing facility of some kind. The footsteps of workers echoed on the metal floor, conversations and screams alike bouncing off walls and high ceilings until they all muddled together in wall of noise. Was that good or bad? This wasn’t some small-scale, underground trafficking ring – this was planned. Industrial. Organised.

He left them laying on the table for a moment, stepping aside to retrieve something from a tower of metal drawers nearby. They couldn’t see what was in his hand, and he turned them back onto their stomach before they could get a better look. He brushed away the hair at the back of their neck, forced them still again with one hand firmly on the back of their head, and pressed whatever he was holding just below their hairline. At first it felt cold against their skin – like a smooth pebble, barely an inch wide, being rocked from side to side. They realise as it grows impossibly hot that it is not a stone. It’s a brand.

The fire consumes their entire body, and burns all rational thought away.

The pain spreads down their back from where it touches their neck, white-hot and brutal, burning some kind of arcane symbol or crest or number into their flesh. They think they might be trying to scream through the gag, but they can’t quite tell. Their throat is sore, and they think they might puke, but can’t hear anything over the ringing in their ears. They writhe as much as they possibly can against the hands and the tape and the stone. It doesn’t help.

Another atrocious smell joins the assault on their senses. Their skin was melting, confirming to the shape of the brand, and when the werewolf finally pulls it away it sticks to it like melted plastic. They’re dimly aware that if they do throw up, as much as they want to, they’ll choke. This can’t be how it ends, drowning on their own vomit, right? It just can’t. Their future had always seemed fairly bleak, but not this bleak.

In a moment of weakness (albeit not the first, and definitely not the last), Xen thinks of Salia. Their virtual conversations had been so sweet and hopeful – they hadn’t quite dared to think it through, but if they’d worked out, maybe they’d have been able to move out of their Dad’s place and make a real life for themself. She had been Xen’s chance at a good life, and a future so good is impossible now. For a moment, they selfishly wish that Salia was there with them, even if she couldn’t help – but that’s when it finally sinks in.

Of course she isn’t here. She never existed in the first place.

Shame and humiliation burn their cheeks as they realise how badly they were fooled. It made so much more sense now, all of this did – they were so stupid. How hopeless and desperate must they be, not just to still wish a figment of their imagination was there to help them, but to have believed anyone would want to be their friend in the first place?

Tears drip down Xen’s cheeks again, hot and wet and salty. They may be stupid, they may be disorientated and confused but they still know what this place means for them. Whether it happens now, suffocating on their own puke, or in a few hours or days (or weeks, or months, or years), when a monster drains them of all their blood, they are going to die. They are going to die unloved. Unremembered. Unimportant.

They stop struggling. It’s probably better to just accept their fate, isn’t it? Rather than make the inevitable more painful. They are going to die either way.

“Where’s this one going?” A bored voice cuts through their thoughts. The werewolf picks them back up, slinging them over his shoulder like they’re nothing. “Butchers? It’s got enough meat on it.”

“No. Brandeschi’s placed an advanced order for a couple dozen, he’s sending a rep over to pick some out. Take it to Prim to get it cleaned up and sorted out. They’re not gonna buy one that smells this bad.”

Although that name means nothing to them, it still sends shivers downs Xen’s spine. Best case scenario, they would be put to work – used for their free labour on a farm or in a factory. Worst case scenario is pretty much everything else. They could end up a in a brothel, as breeding stock, as blood or meat or spare parts – they’d heard stories, read news reports about what humans were allegedly forced to do in North Irades, and now they were going to find if it was all true.

They hope they’ll be killed quickly, rather than drawn out over weeks or months. Keeping them alive only to be fed from was a pathetic existence – an electric shock and a slit throat would be a kinder death than being hooked up to a machine and slowly farmed for their blood until their body eventually gave out. Unfortunately, it’s not like they have a choice in the matter.

The werewolf carries them away, past more tables with more humans being unpackaged and branded, and down a stretch of corridor. Under the sounds of muffled screaming, they can hear people begging, too – some furious and fighting, others desperate and wailing, all of them terrified. Xen understands every last word they say, but it’s like they’re all speaking a different language. The monsters here just do not care.

Monsters.

That term has never felt more literal.

#whump #fantasy whump #whump writing #whumblr #xen #original fiction #chapter 2 #tw dehumanisation #tw bbu #I can't decide if this chapter is super long or just normal haha #please let me know if you've read it I would LOVE to hear your thoughts!!

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enneamage · 2 years

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can you expand more on why you feel like wilbur has npd/a cluster b disorder?

Oh god a direct excuse to talk about it I thought this day would never come

I’ve been an NPD truther to varying degrees of intensity for a while now. I knew it was a possibility, but things were pushed over a line after a while, and that was when I had a little (big) research arc around learning the ins and outs of NPD. It was eerie how much of what I learned lined up with what I was seeing.

I see this essay passed around in the actuallynarcissistic tag on tumblr a lot and I can see why, it’s probably the most comprehensive ‘here are the actual symptoms beyond grandiosity and here’s what they’re connected to’ list I’ve seen. There’s a lot of shoddy info about NPD out there because it’s a sensational topic that’s easy to get imprecise about, so I strongly suggest reading it to get a sense of what the condition can look like. I see a lot of Wilbur’s ‘quirks’ on this list, there’s a reason I keep linking it.

Starting off, Wilbur would fall on the ‘fragile’ or ‘covert’ end of the NPD spectrum, which presents differently than the grandiose end. There’s generally fluidity between these two points, but most of what we’ve seen of Wilbur leans more towards the covert end, having grandiose fantasies while remaining self-deprecating and sensitive in real life.

Internally/Externally Inconsistent

It’s not unusual for people in general to have different parts of their personality come out with different contexts, but NPD can push this into an extreme. The different levels of development across the different parts of himself are… wide. He knows how to handle a controversy like a politician but the closer he gets to his more vulnerable center the more childlike he can get, and time has revealed that the unstable part is the constant.

Wilbur has a lot of need, emotionally and practically. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is based on being self-preoccupied, concerned with combatting feelings of helplessness, despair, and irrelevance through their ego and external environment. Those with Vulnerable NPD tend to lean more openly anxious and depressive, playing down their grandiose fantasies but remaining passive aggressive and sensitive to criticism. They turn to their environment for praise, care, and validation, trying to balance out a feeling that can range from profound existential anxiety to internal deadness.

I’ve talked about how Wilbur used to threaten to cry as a power move, which is a layered thing to do. His despair is real, and he feels as vulnerable as he acts, but he has a way of throwing himself on the ground as a defensive move and playing dead to try and ward off arguments that he knows he can’t win. He will still occasionally pout to try and diffuse situations, leveraging pity as a tactic to try and make other people ‘the bad guy’ by engaging further. He will try to guilt people into caring for or catering to him by projecting his helpless self-image when he feels burnt out or cornered, to varying results; this is fairly pronounced Vulnerable NPD behavior.

At the same time, people with NPD tend to have an over-developed capacity to create temporary social masks in order to get what they want. Wilbur is good at making promises, short speeches and temporary impressions that make him look very promising and reasonable as a person. He may even believe what he says in the moment, as NPD has a kind of dissociative quality when it comes to being inconsistent, but most of these behaviors are geared towards short-term satisfaction over long-term payoff; praise for being impressive now is better than having to work to keep a promise later. Wilbur has a lot of unfulfilled promises in his life, and he's even sung about his ‘short sighted’ impulse control.

Obsessively Oppositional

Wilbur has very pronounced authority and control issues that show up in big and small ways.

He’s has said before that he ‘cannot’ work for someone else, and he’s even aware of that fact that it’s because he’s disagreeable. While I don’t know the exact extent that this has gotten him into trouble before, the fact that it’s affected his ability to make money and live is pretty telling. I’ve talked in less sensational terms about how Wilbur is very sensitive and defiant to feeling undermined, but it’s a really big part of what makes him self sabotage in certain situations. Wilbur can get resentful of prolonged social cooperation and may begin to rebel against it consciously or unconsciously by dragging his feet.

Wilbur also gets stubborn about weird little things a lot. The MCC skin thing is a perfect example of a petty ongoing thing, where he wants to push back against control by not participating in team skins for vanity and control reasons. In life he pushes against the petty things that he can get away with as acts of rebellion to feel more in control.

I feel like it’s not controversial to say that he’s got weird politics and his fixation on freedom shows up in them a lot, both in being a hopeless ameriboo and being connected to libertarianism. His whole dirty crime boy bit was kind of suspicious as well, being basically resentful of laws. He seems to hate having rules placed on him, especially by authority figures.

Emotional Dysregulation

Wilbur’s emotional control is not where it should be for a man his age. Even for someone socialised male, his raw anger at things some days suggests a very sensitive set of nerves, and the things that set him off are very telling. People with NPD, particularly the covert variety, are very sensitive and reactive to shame, criticism, and feelings of inadequacy, and will notice them everywhere. This is muddy because it overlaps with the depressive and anxious symptoms, so his sensitivity can be passed off as stemming from them instead of all being connected to something larger.

This is a death by a thousand papercuts thing. It’s generally simmering in the background, reacting with a bit more anger and intensity than he should to things in his environment, particularly if they set off his shame response. Wilbur fires back at chat defensively, getting into his condescending voice at things that range from mildly irritating to innocuous. He knows to not pick an outright fight with his own chat most of the time, since thousands on one is a stupid fight to pick, but he once made a comment along the lines of “Five minutes in and insulting chat, that’s not good” which suggested that it’s a thing he has to actively stop himself from doing. He tends to play off his need to cut people down as an English personality/humor thing, but the genuine anger underneath it makes me think twice.

The Love Life Problem

His history comes into this because he’s indirectly stated that he experiences the idealise, devalue, discard cycle that people with unaware NPD tend to experience with romantic relationships. This is the process where the internal sense of lack and instability in someone with NPD crosses with their emotional impulses and they find someone in their environment to project their hope of stabilising/fulfilling themselves onto.

They tend to use whatever people skills they have to woo and appeal to the person of their choice, hoping that this person is basically going to be the one. They can have a very complimentary view of them in this phase, idealising them and putting their hope towards a perfect future with them. After a while a sort of disgust builds towards the person for not serving the purpose that they had initially reached out to them for, as well as being ‘fooled’ by the social mask. An agitation builds up from feeling dead and isolated despite being around the other person, turning to resentment. They then start to devalue their partner, acting out and being dismissive. (Your Sister Was Right is him outing himself.)

This is why I find it so eerie when Wilbur goes into romance mode with somebody, there’s a good chance that he’s setting himself up to resent them as a consequence of his own actions. The part inside of him that ‘needs’ the most will never reach the person that he’s wooing if he dips into a false self, but his inner self has a bitter disposition and a deeply vulnerable amount of need, so it makes sense why he doesn’t lead with it.

(This is a weird little thing that happened with ghostbur actually, he began to resent that people liked the mask better than him and were so easily ‘fooled.’)

C!Wilbur

You know how Wilbur is a critblr gateway drug because he compulsively tells on himself in bizarre ways and you’re left holding the puzzle pieces whether you wanted them or not? I’ve really got to emphasise that c!Wilbur fits the profile of someone who has NPD having a meltdown to an uncanny degree. It’s fiction so it’s larger than life, but It’s like Wilbur stored the symptoms of NPD inside him like a fridge. Everyone knows that pogtopia was meant to be c!wilbur’s mental health spiral, but they never go as far as naming what all those symptoms were connected to. The fact that he hit every branch on the way down is way too much to call a coincidence, even though I’m sure it was unconscious on Wilbur’s part.

His character starts out making what NPD literature would call a shared fantasy, a kind of conceptual space where his vision spreads to others and they buy into a story that he makes about the world, as well as his role in it. He sells people on the value of this vision, and by extension the value of himself. Wilbur has an ongoing fascination with both politicians and cult leaders, and they feel very relevant here.

L’manburg is based on dismissing Dream’s authority as admin and substituting his own, disavowing Dream as a tyrant and declaring liberty and freedom and fuck-you-I-do-what-I-want. He invites people to the secret clubhouse and they elevate the legitimacy of the whole thing, but things quickly begin to unravel as they don’t feed the power fantasy in the way that he wanted.

While he publicly tries to play the charming social role, behind the scenes he is breaking down. His emotions are unstable in public and explosive in private, intense crying episodes and rage for feeling useless and ineffective in spite of his position. He can’t tolerate not being the ultimate power so he tries to force legitimacy through cheating (implicitly believing that he would not win legitimately), which backfires on him permanently.

He spirals, giving in to the part of himself that is terrified of his own insignificance and desperate to prove importance and agency, even if it means self-destruction. He declares himself ‘the bad guy.’ He makes constant grabs for power, trying desperately to remain in control, resorting to threats of violence against himself and others (the tnt). He obsessively cuts down his most devoted ally, Tommy, trying to compensate for his inferiority and jealousy. He experiences persecutory delusions, which are a lesser known symptom of NPD under stress, breaking with reality and falling into a state where his mind invents information independent of the world around him. While all of this is going on, he keeps lying to his father about how his life is going, trying to maintain the illusion of success.

While most people with NPD wouldn’t necessarily use violence, the extremes of behavior resorted to because of an internal crisis can be a serious issue, outward or inward. NPD has cluster B status for a reason, and it’s still a disorder, which means that it is still associated with dysfunction. People with NPD have something of an infamous cycle where they can create concepts and plans with the new people they meet, time passes and the fantasy decays, and then something comes crashing down that makes them leave or gets them cut out of other peoples lives. They then move on to somewhere new to start the cycle over again, hoping that this time they’ll be able to step into their fantasy for real.

The Rust roleplay never got that far but Wilbur immediately created another leader with imposter syndrome who needed to manipulate people in order to keep his position, and what an interesting thing for a successful streamer who dislikes streaming to do.

I can’t know exactly what role delusion plays in Wilbur’s life, but we do know that he is a hypochondriac. Certain manifestations of hypochondria are a mix of anxiety and delusion, becoming obsessively and unshakably convinced that you’re going to die because of a given illness. Feelings of persecution and impending doom are a feature of NPD, an episodic or baseline anxiety about feeling like something is either approaching or about to break.

How do you know it’s not something else?

On their own these things might not be that convincing, but taken all together as the dynamics of one dude it becomes the simplest answer. While he might have a number of issues as symptoms, most of his behavior can be traced back to the unique way that NPD would be affecting him.

I understand why Borderline and NPD are neighbours in the DSM, because they share a lot of common ground, but they come from different structures and dynamics. BPD splitting shows up abruptly in the moment, while NPD relationship devaluing can be a more subtle ongoing process with more shades of grey.

Fin

Overall this is why I’m convinced that he’s got a foot over the line into NPD territory. If you’re left with the feeling of “but he’s just a guy” when you think of him or see him next—he is, at the end of the day. People with personality disorders are still people, and individuals before all that as well. He won’t be a walking bag of symptoms all the time, but he’s prone to behaving and processing things differently from someone who doesn’t have his personality adaptations. He’s still capable of being reasonable and right and relatively functional, he just has a bunch of other stuff going on as well.

#anon you came to the right place #there's a lot more but these are the easiest bits to talk about #it makes sense to be sceptical because there's a lot of plausible deniability #but NPD doesn't always have to escalate to criminal or abusive extremes to be there #Also I know that the phone video lady may seem odd but she describes the cycle well so just tab out and give it a chance while you scroll #if you want #wlbr 3w4 #featuring some #loreposting #NPDbur tag #gen wlbr tag

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fresh-widow · 2 years

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I flew to NY for the first time since my mom died, July 2017. It was not easy. My senior dogs are in precarious health. Both have some form of cancer. Paisley’s senior anxiety diagnosed as Sundowner’s, AKA doggie dementia. I was gone 5 days and the price paid is emergency surgery for Paisley. Her leg mast cell tumor has been bleeding copiously. This divided my friends in half- half Princesses, half Queens. Princesses emote their drama. They are disgusted and fawn a sort of sympathy that suggests I put P out of her misery. P is not there yet, I say, we have a relationship and will know when it is that time. The Queens are far apart and few in between because they are true, caring, and skilled. Q is such a friend and came over to help me bandage P’s hind leg. But I digress.

I landed, for the first time, in Albany just in time to get dressed and go straight to my sister’s 60th bday event. An outdoor concert featuring a Dead cover band who played their own songs too which sounded like Dead songs. I had microdosed, and was in an up mood and my sister did twice as much as I did. My nephew and his friends arrived later and livened up the party. I had a long conversation with one man F who was on the same page as I was about the miserable state of the medical industrial billionaire controlled late capitalist corporatocracy. After awhile, I had to run away from this guy. Nice but he monopolized my desire to chill which I eventually got to do, sitting with a friend of my sister’s (depressed) and my nephew ( I get along better with young people who are not so hypnotized by fear politics.) The music was the same music from high school, 45 years ago.

The next day, Sunday, my sister’s friends came over for brunch. The topic of conversation was about local bands or medical ailments and procedures. Later I had a conversation about shamanic healing with a lawyer who told me about his friend who was cured of a cat allergy. In turn, I told him about my year after B died, having a rice reading w a traditional shaman, being cured of chemical sensitivity, and sleeping outside until the dark force in the stairwell went away. He was more than amused and I am glad I don’t live in that town. My good sister is skeptical of my beliefs. She has beliefs but not necessarily the big picture. Cigarettes, antidepressants and fear create a sort of mass formation as hypnotized by personalized television news.

Her boyfriend is alternately nice, insecure, solicitous, critical, and hyper. There is a coffeeed out neurosis stemmed by adult beverages and not enough exercise. But a decent fellow. Monday he planned to take us out n a friend’s boat. Mercifully for the weather app I discovered Tuesday was to be hot as fuck in NYC so I changed my mind to go there Memorial Day Monday. The next day I took the 5:15 am Amtrak to the city and meandered from Penn Station through the fashion district, down 14th, through the west and east village, soho, little Italy, Chinatown, Canal St, across the Brooklyn Bridge and over to Clinton Hill. About 7 miles, all told, my legs almost gave out upon return to the Amtrak Station just in time for a falafel salad before returning to Albany in the later evening.

Next day my sister lent me her car and I drove to MA to see my SIL who showed me her latest painting coursework and I did a lousy paint8ng which she fixed by demonstrating cool brush techniques she learned recently. We talked about dating and other stuff, she is a fun like minded human being, very generous and caring. Then the next day I visited my longest time friend, J and her offspring, A, on their new goat farm. We talked metaphysics, farming, art, politics and about preferring a few good friends to people in general. Time can pass for decades but when we get together it is timeless as we are cut from the same cloth.

#widow #grief/mourning #friendship #travel #metaphyics

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knjsnoona · 3 years

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Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy.

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed.

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again.

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet.

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing.

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son.

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications.

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood.

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch.

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up.

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair.

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety.

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away.

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features.

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation.

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big.

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead.

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. .

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you.

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you.

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging.

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye.

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward.

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer.

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side.

“What?” Jin called from the room over.

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.”

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy.

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings.

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice.

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout.

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso.

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.”

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should.

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs.

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood.

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh.

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass.

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy.

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them.

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching.

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length.

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer.

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers.

“No more,” you moan quietly.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted.

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment.

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.”

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now.

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench.

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious.

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you.

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.”

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip.

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you .

You whine, wanting more.

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach.

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace.

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion.

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips.

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down.

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.”

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace.

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back.

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion.

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to.

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire.

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.”

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds.

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure.

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub.

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him.

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm.

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms.

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,”

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings.

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily.

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in.

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.”

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town.

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself.

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out.

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable.

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt.

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart.

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?”

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing.

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion.

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare.

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible.

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.”

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face.

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another.

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?”

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick.

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload.

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake.

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin.

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down.

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head.

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water.

How in the hell was this herculean man real?

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above.

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink.

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face.

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer.

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts.

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan.

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly.

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time.

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line.

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin.

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically.

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon.

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him.

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting.

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!”

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent.

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh.

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up.

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place.

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy.

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake.

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest.

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills.

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort.

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more.

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom.

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization.

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you.

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment.

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

#btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #purplearmynet #bts x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts jin x reader #ksj #kim seokjin #bccsg

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peachy-rambles · 3 years

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Kikis delivery service au? 👀 Please go on, that’s one of my favorites of the ghibli movies and I would love to hear your thoughts on it

(Also really dumb idea but Tommy as Gigi but he’s a raccoon. Who for? Yes. Regardless of who is Kiki- oooooh and there’s that artist lady with the crows-)

-inky

Ok so here's some thoughts I have about it off the top of my head:

When Phil was 13, he left home as young witches do (with his dove familiar, Wilbur) to find his way in the world and whatever his special talent was because every witch has a special talent. He finds his way to a big city and settles there, finding work at a garden centre. He was always good with plants and he enjoys his job, even if it's a lot of work. There's even a bakery down the street he often visits and becomes friends with the owner.

One day when Phil visits the bakery, he notices that the owner is acting different and seems much more quiet and closed off. It doesn't take much pressing from him to get her to tell him what's wrong.

"It's my son. He's sick and I can't afford the medicine he needs," she eventually admits.

Phil gets more details from her about her son and he heads back to where he's staying, pulling out an old book he'd packed before leaving. It's an ancient journal written by one of his ancestors about herbs, potions and brewing medicine. He gets to work, figuring out which potion he needs to make and collects the plants he needs to it from the garden centre. It takes a few trial and errors but eventually he successfully makes the potion he needs.

He brings it to the bakery's owner and gives her the proper instructions on how to give it to her son before leaving.

A few weeks later when he visits the bakery, the owner is delighted to see him and tells him that his potion worked! Her son is still recovering, but he was no longer sick and almost healthy again.

The owner brings Phil to meet her son, Techno, who just turned 3. Techno loves Phil right away, especially because he knows Phil is the one who helped him get better. Over the next few years, Phil often visits the bakery and will sometimes babysit Techno, spending time with him.

Eventually though, Phil figures it's time for him to leave the city and to head back home. Techno is naturally distraught and is angry at Phil, thinking his friend is leaving him for good. But Phil promises he'll send Techno letters and definitely visit whenever he gets the chance.

Phil returns home and makes good on his promise, sending Techno letters at least twice a month and Techno always writes him back (well, he tries his best, being only 5 and all).

But then...Phil's letters slow down to once a month. Then once every few months.

The last letter Techno receives from Phil is wishing Techno a happy 6th birthday, and how Phil will try to visit in a few weeks if he can.

He never does.

Despite this, Techno keeps sending letters, hoping maybe if he sends enough Phil will reply. But as more time passes, he realizes that's it's probably useless and knows that Phil won't reply. Techno doesn't give up completely however and once a year, he'll send Phil a letter, telling him about all the things that have happened to him in the past year. He always ends the letter by saying how he misses Phil and hopes he's okay.

Years pass and Techno grows up, eventually inheriting the bakery from his mother who passed away when Techno was 18. Techno is an amazing baker, but because of his giant size and generally terrifying appearance+social anxiety and awkwardness...he isn't good at running the bakery and interacting with people. So, he hires another local baker named Niki to help him out. They're both great bakers and work well together, but Niki is usually the one manning the front and interacting with customers while Techno stays (hides) in the back.

Eventually, Techno (and Niki) take on an apprentice named Ranboo. He's not the best at baking yet, but he has a genuine interest in it and is great at making cookies and decorating cakes.

One day, while Ranboo is helping closing up the bakery with Techno, he's notices a little yellow raccoon with a green bandana tied around it's neck, digging through the trash. It hisses and runs away as soon as it spots Ranboo, but it's back the next night. This time though, Ranboo is prepared and has a spare loaf of broad to offer the raccoon. The raccoon still hisses at him and runs off, but not before nabbing the bread from Ranboo.

This becomes a routine for about a week, Ranboo feeding the raccoon any spare food from the bakery. At the end of the week, Ranboo decides to follow the raccoon. Because it's clearly going somewhere with the food and the bandana around it's neck probably mean it belongs to someone.

That's how Ranboo meets Tubbo - a witch in training, who wasn't able to find a place to stay and has been wandering the streets for the past week. His raccoon familiar, Tommy, was taking the food that Ranboo gave him and giving it to Tubbo to eat since he had no money or food left.

Ranboo listens to Tubbo's plights and after thinking it over, Ranboo comes up with an idea: Tubbo could live with Ranboo in the spare attic above the bakery that Techno let's Ranboo stay in!

Tubbo doesn't hesitate and accepts Ranboo's offer. They do attempt to hide Tubbo's presence from Techno, unsure of how he'll react to a witch (or you know, just a strange random teenager living in his attic), but Techno catches them on the first day when Tubbo sneaks into the bakery to steal some desserts.

Techno isn't heartless so he let's Tubbo continue to stay with Ranboo, just as long as he helps around the bakery and doesn't get in anyone's way. Even though Techno seems to not mind Tubbo's presence, the others in the bakery still can't help but notice that Techno very much avoids Tubbo and they have no idea why.

Maybe Techno dislikes witches or is scared of them? But if he does, why would he agree to let Tubbo stay.

Of course we know why Techno is hesitant around Tubbo: it's because of Phil.

Techno doesn't hate Phil or hate witches because of Phil, but he is...hesitant to trust them or get close to them. Which is why he's so wary around Tubbo and does his best to ignore and avoid him. Afterall, Techno has no idea what happened to Phil or why he stopped sending letters and why he broke his promise to Techno.

The truth is, when Phil returned home all those years ago, it turned out that while he was gone his parents had made an arranged marriage for him to another witch from a powerful family. Phil didn't really have a choice and went through with the marriage. He didn't tell Techno any of this through his letters because Techno was just a child and Phil didn't think it was relevant to tell him.

All of Techno's letters that he mailed were all sent to Phil's family's house, which Phil no longer lived at (now living with his spouse) and Phil would always send Wilbur over to deliver any letters from Techno to him.

As time went on, Phil became more and more depressed with his living situation, especially because his spouse and their family weren't...the nicest.

Eventually, something happens with his spouse, which makes Phil snap and he runs away, leaving everyone behind. He travels for a very long time until he finds a little abandoned cabin at the edge of some woods, nearby a small quaint little town. Phil decides to make the cabin his own and it becomes home to him. He eventually builds a greenhouse and garden, turning his little cabin into an apothecary, where he makes and sells potions and medicines (he will also sell his plants if people are interested, but it's mostly the potions).

He eventually earns the nickname "the Crowfather" by the town and surrounding area, due to the amount of birds (mostly crows but other birds as well) that tend to hang around his cabin and shop. Sometimes you can ever catch him talking to the birds (usually scolding them for whatever reason).

Phil enjoys the life he's made for himself and avoids thinking about his past, but sometimes he'll remember Techno and feel some regret. He sometimes wonders if maybe he should send Techno a letter and tell him that he's okay, that he misses Techno and had full intentions of visiting him, but life had other plans. Phil has written many letters over the years to Techno, but whenever he tries to send one, he always backs out and ends up throwing the letter away.

Techno was just a child when he last saw Phil and has probably long forgotten Phil already, so there's no need to send him a letter. That's what Phil believes anyway.

Phil pushes any thoughts of Techno out of his head and tries to focus on the life he has now.

Eventually, Phil finds and takes in a toddler named Tubbo, who Phil recognizes as another witch. Phil raises Tubbo and trains him in the ways of witches, until the day Tubbo turns 13 and heads off to go on his own journey to find his special talent.

Phil has no idea that his apprentice ended up in the same city Phil did all those years ago, and somehow found the same bakery Phil did and is now living under Techno's roof and being looked after by him.

But Phil will find out when Tubbo sends his first letter to Phil, giving him all the details of his journey so far, including the bakery he's staying in and the owner - Techno.

#techza #technophil #asks and replies #peachy said a thing #peachy fic prompts #inky anon

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suometar · 3 years

Text

youtube

Power song of the day: Wake up by Smash into Pieces

You can not resist, like a moth to a flame -- You know it will burn, but sometimes you enjoy the pain

This is your favorite game -- But you're gonna be defeated -- And you're never gonna beat it -- Controls you like a slave -- But you gotta stop pretending -- You won't get a happy ending

(Chorus) Someday you're gonna wake up -- Gonna wake up -- From a life in fantasy -- Someday you're gonna wake up -- Gonna wake up -- And realize it's not meant to be -- You stumble in the dark cause you close your eyes -- Guided by the sweet talk lullaby -- But someday you will wake up -- You will wake up From a life in fantasy -- Wake up!

You try to cut everyone out of your life -- So no one can question how you can believe the lies

This is your favorite game -- But you're gonna be defeated -- And you're never gonna beat it -- Controls you like a slave -- But you gotta stop pretending -- You won't get a happy ending

(Chorus)

You're in the fire, what do you do? -- You wake up -- The final round is waiting for you

(Chorus)

Why? Well...

I'm coming down from mania.

Which sucks. And here's a glimpse into my 30 or so years experience of this nonsense.

But before I say more I want to say to everyone who I have been venting during the last month or so:

Please don't think that you have contributed in making my situation worse. You haven't. The fuel for all of it comes from within myself. I am nothing but crateful that I have had a chance to vent to someone because otherwise it all would've just clumped inside me and that would've made the situation worse.

And besides, not all venting has been caused just by mania. When I'm manic it doesn't remove the normal thoughts and feelings I have.

When you're stuck in a tar pit created by a certain person for who knows how many years in a row it's obvious it's not just the mania. I think you guys know what that's like :D

Coming down is like a really really really REALLY bad hangover

Except that you can remember every single thing you've done, the things you've felt, the things you've planned, what you thought of. EVERYTHING.

And you KNOW they're all just a result of the chemical imbalance of your own brain.

Coming down doesn't mean necessarily that I'm now depressed. It's just getting back to your normal state from mania.

But the bad hangover is real. If you've experienced that you know what it's like. Regrets after regrets.

What's mania like

That ecstacy of mania is an immense rush you don't really know unless you've experienced it yourself.

It's difficult to describe, but I think falling in love really hard and fast is the closest that describes it best. You have butterflies in your stomach all the time, you're hyperfixating on that one person and you feel invincible, like everything in your life is finally perfect and you're in control like never before.

Or even better: It's like being on speed, except without the drugs. Overstimulated 24-7-365.

Hyperfixation is typical for mania

In my case the hyperfixation can be basically anything from men (real or fictional, doesn't really matter lol) to any action, hobby or even work, totally depends on the situation.

What I do is I dedicate all my time to that one thing and one thing only even though I know it's not healthy.

Thank god I've learned to control it so that it won't take ALL of my time anymore, but it still is there. And I need to cater it to some extent or I won't be able to do anything.

It's like having a parasite you can't get rid of but you can make it behave if you give it some attention from time to time.

What's real and what's not? That is the question

When you're having mania it's sometimes super hard to differentiate what's a real thought and what is based on the illusion created by your own mind. And even though I am nowadays capable to tell the difference of my real thoughts/feelings and the ones fueled by mania the later ones do have an effect on me even though I try not to react to them.

The tricky thing is that your body can't tell the difference of a so called real/normal thought/feeling and one created inside my head fueled by mania.

A manic person wants nothing more than get more of the dopamine that fuels the ecstacy. Which easily can lead to a psychotic episode/period.

The saddest part is that manic person usually looks and behaves exactly like any normal person. You can't tell from outside if someone is having mania unless they choose to show it. Psychotic then usually is clearly psychotic and erratic and behaves totally out of character.

Triggers for mania

Anything can basically be a trigger for mania and they vary from person to person. For me it's usually one of the following:

an extreme negative change in life (such as death, divorce or other big things like that),

finding a new crush,

intensive concentration on some activity,

social media, or

as surprising as it might be: music. Especially any with a faster tempo.

Usually though I have already been somewhat hypomanic before the real mania hits. Hypomania though is very hard to notice because I'm somewhat easily excited and impulsive already by nature.

But I've lived with this so long that I know when it's going overboard. My manic mind just usually chooses to say it's nothing and I believe it like a fool - because it feels so good.

This time the trigger for me was intensive concentrating on writing. While the writing was crucial in easing my general anxiety this time it had this unfortunate side effect.

Nonetheless, I'm not quitting writing. Because the anxiety has eased significantly from when I started. I probably need to change the subject for a while and not to write daily or limit it just for 30 mins a day.

How a new crush can happen when you're married, you ask?

Oh, easily. See, with a manic mind a marriage is nothing but an obstacle. Nothing is but an obstacle that is designed to limit you. Because you're omnipotent. And obstacles - well, they're made to be conquered or plowed through.

In my case I've chosen to keep my crushes online and physically as far away from me as possible. I've made a mistake of crushing into someone irl and that was UGLY for all parties involved.

Thirsting over someone from afar online while remaining happily married is by far a better option.

How to control mania or turn it off

Yes, you can turn it off. The problem with that is that usually manic person doesn't

feel like something is wrong, and

doesn't want to get down from the high.

But there are things you can do to get it end sooner.

Log off from all social media. Seriously. Don't just turn notifications off - LOG OFF.

If that's not enough, remove all the social media apps from your phone. You can always install them again.

Turn off your phone if it's possible.

Don't use computer unless it is absolutely necessary - like for paying bills. You don't need to find out what age Barbara Streissand is at 2:30am - or, well, ever.

Social media is by far the biggest contributor for mania. The apps are designed to give us a dopamine rush each time we scroll down any feed and see a new post. That's how they keep us stuck on them.

When you already have an issue with the dopamine rush using social media just makes it worse.

You won't miss anything if you log off for two days or a week. SERIOUSLY. But it will improve your well-being tremendously.

The absolutely best thing you can do is to create as dull environment to yourself as possible. That there's nothing artificial you can drown yourself into. Best place to be in mania is in the middle of the woods without any mobile signal - trust me.

Take up an activity where you do something with your hands. Hands-on approach is crucial.

Doing things with your hands will root you into the real world.

It doesn't matter what it is: cooking, cleaning, handcrafts, drawing or painting (NOT on a computer or ipad but with real pencils/crayons/paints/brushes/etc).

Remember not to do just that though. Go out (without your phone). Enjoy the nature. Listen to the sounds of the outside world. Don't close your senses with headphones. Read. Watch out of the window. Stare at the wall. Watch the paint dry.

LET YOURSELF GET BORED.

Just stay away from any electronic devices.

The hangover is horrible but it'll pass. And you will feel better afterwards when you're functional again.

------

It's not easy. None of us chose to live with bipolar. It's always inherited. But there are ways to work through it.

I hope this helps at least someone.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#bipolar disorder #bipolar #bipolar mania #coping skills #mental health tips #thoughts from the crypt #long post

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ewan-mo · 2 years

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Catching up with ourselves. Feb 15th

Breakfast at 6.30 meant we could be on the road at 7. We drove north in a murky misty landscape accompanied by a scarlet sun and dark storm clouds, then swung east. We’d anticipated very heavy traffic round Kampala but the circular road by passing the city was pretty good. See, it’s not always hot and sunny in Africa!

A pickup with loads of plastic bottles.

Our hosts for the first assignment were St Francis Hospital at Nkokonjeru. Don’t you just love that place name? It’s a general hospital, private-not-for-profit, which supervises a number of government health centres. Very nice for government, but if done properly, lots of work for St Francis – and also potential for developing mental health services further. Health centres are so much nearer to where most of the patients are.

Sister Priscilla the Administrator was happy to welcome us, and sent immediately for Sister Harriet, the Director of Nursing. She turned out to have an eye for the data, and produced boxes of patient records and registers for our perusal. Ewan specially loves data. If you can count your patients, you can demonstrate need, for more services, more medication, more staff teams.

Priscilla also contacted Joel, Psychiatric Nurse, who was on his day off but immediately said he was catching a boda-boda (motor scooter taxi), to come and find us. Thereafter we had a lovely conversation about how services are developing and how they might go further now that Covid is settling down a bit. Joel and Priscilla are sure they can get us lots of really useful figures if we send them an example of the kind of form to fill in that works!

They already have a well-established monthly clinic run with an outreach team from Butabika, the big mental hospital in Kampala. Joel says the clinic is getting so big he will have to start another one.

Getting water containers filled at a water tank

Like all our partners in Uganda, this team told us of the devastating effects of the pandemic. A very strict lockdown meant many families going hungry, increased poverty, worrying rates of domestic violence, teenage pregnancies, and two years without any school for Uganda’s children. Rates of depression and anxiety have risen, as is common all over the world where the virus has struck, and there are, and will continue to be, increasing rates of the most serious mental illness.

Yet still, many people in the communities have no idea that there is treatment for mental illness and epilepsy. It’s so important that the teams we support can build on their work improving their general colleagues’ skills in mental health and epilepsy (that’s the mhGAP workshops we’ve encouraged and financed). And also by taking the good news out to people in the whole area around their hospitals. Jamie’s Fund, as you know, will use whatever money is donated to us to forward just such work as this. mhGAP training enables mental health practitioners to refresh their general colleagues’ knowledge and skills in mental health. Community sensitisation workshops which are now being held by many of our teams, bring basic knowledge to community leaders including local and religious leaders, police, teachers, social workers and so on. Many of them are so surprised to find that there is treatment for people who appear to them to be subjected to witchcraft or demon possession.

Joel is a dreamer. He would so love to develop a really good mental health centre of excellence, with a hospital clinic (seeing twice as many patients as they do now), outreach clinics to the health centres, village volunteers following up patients who give up on their medication, and preferably, a psychiatrist! We applaud his energy and ideas, and we love his enthusiasm.

At St Charles Lwanga Hospital in Buikwe we met Juliet, who has Human Resources on her door. She happily told us she had heard of us! and tried to think who would be best person to talk to. None of the people with whom we’d corresponded were around, and oddly, they don’t seem to use diaries. May just be a variation on the different attitudes to time In Africa.

Anyhow, Juliet sent for George, a comprehensive nurse. Govt is phasing out training for this grade of practical nurse, but meanwhile they continue to do pretty much everything. George enjoys MH and is happy enough when his colleagues say “Here is your patient”. The mhGAP programme would love all staff to see that pts with mental illness or epilepsy are ourpatients if in our hospital, and we can all care for them.

There is no great pressure to expand mental health services for St Charles, as there is a govt regional referral centre within reach at Jinja. However George and Dr Martin have both been to one of our Train the Trainers workshops in mhGAP and will continue to develop knowledge and skills in their colleagues. Here’s hoping for some more community sensitisation too. I’m particularly excited by George’s work in including traditional healers in his local community sensitisation workshops. As far as I know, this is a first.

During our conversations and tour of the hospital, we had some very African rain showers, drumming on the tin roofs and bouncing up from gigantic puddles.

We are staying in Jinja tonight, and we had a short walk this afternoon to get some supper, is where the mighty Nile rises. It’s quite a river.

A little friend!

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swimfuel · 3 years

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okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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athenasbloodyspear · 3 years

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Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 3

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

The next month at the compound passed much better than the last. You started training with everyone in the gym again and actually paid attention to your exercise routine.

Bucky had come to find you one morning in your room, a few days after the Peter incident, and had reiterated to you that he didn’t want to push you to talk about anything, but that he was there for you if you needed him. You had thanked him, blushing all the way up to your hairline when you thought about how you had clung to him and sobbed into his chest. He had just tucked his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m glad I could be there for you when you needed me.” You didn’t have any words, so you had just nodded. Then you’d both gone down to the gym for a long morning of training. The place on your chin where his fingers had gently held had tingled all morning.

Tony sent you out on a couple of really easy missions to scope out a few buildings. It was just you wandering the busy streets of a few towns in Russia. Even though it was devastatingly cold, it felt good to be out and working again. Your head felt clear, you had a purpose and something to focus on.

The two appointments you had with the therapist so far seemed… fine. The first was very formal and slightly uncomfortable. You were a person who had to keep their cards close to their chest their whole life, and spent a good portion of time only telling the smallest amount of the truth you could get away with. You were constantly juggling secrets, so spending an hour just talking about yourself was not something that came naturally.

The second appointment was a little better. You didn’t know if you’d ever feel comfortable actually talking about what happened to someone you didn’t know, but you had opened up a bit about feeling lost, like the world is duller lately and she seemed to think that was something that lots of people struggled with. It was enough to lift a little bit of weight off your heart.

You finally finished all of the Fast and the Furious movies with Peter and had started spending the evenings in the common area eating dinner and sharing drinks with everyone. You were still more quiet than usual, but you supplied the occasional joke (usually at Sam or Bucky’s expense) and generally just started to enjoy yourself a bit more.

One evening, just about a month after your panic attack, you were all settling down for a movie in the common space. Everyone was going to watch the Lord of the Rings series together after Tony and Sam had been appalled to discover that no one (not even Peter) had seen any of them.

You were tucked on the couch between Bucky and Peter with a movie theater size bin of popcorn on your lap. Between the teen boy and the super soldier grabbing hand fulls, the tub was almost halfway gone and you hadn’t even hit play yet.

“Jesus you monsters! Don’t eat it all before the movie even starts.”

“It’s not our fault you’ve been making us wait for 15 minutes.” Peter said through a mouthful of half chewed popcorn.

“Ew Peter! Swallow before speaking please. We’re waiting for Tony. He’d be pissed if we started without him.” You snarked back as you stood to go pop more popcorn.

Heathens. You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes.

“Hey Friday?” Peter yelled at the ceiling. “Where the fuck is Tony?”

You heard Steve mutter “language” under his breath across the room. Sam threw a pillow at him. Bucky dropped his head back onto the couch and cackled.

“Shut up grandpa.” You threw over your shoulder.

As you started to turn back around you caught the blue of Bucky’s eyes staring at you. He still had a huge smile on his face, but his eyes were scanning down the length of your body. His gaze paused somewhere around where you knew the top band of your Calvin Klein underwear was peeking out over the top of your sweats. You felt your whole face flush a bright red, your body temperature skyrocketing.

Bucky’s eyes drifted back up and locked with yours. He gave you a small smirk before turning back around to berate Steve for being a stick in the mud. It didn’t seem possible, but your blush seemed to spread across your chest and you could feel a small amount of sweat build on the back of your neck. What the hell? You closed your eyes and shook your head a bit to try to clear the flush from your body.

Calm down and just pop popcorn.

Just then Friday's voice spoke up “Tony is in the elevator on his way.”

“Thank fuck.” Sam said, which caused more grumbling from the lounge chair occupied by Steve. You giggled quietly to yourself as you poured some popcorn kernels into Tony’s fancy popcorn popper.

You turned to grab some butter from the fridge and almost slammed nose first into a rock hard chest. Two arms wrapped around your biceps to stop your forward momentum. Bucky chuckled softly.

“Whoa princess. Need any help?”

“Uh. Can you grab some butter?” You lifted your eyes off the small bit of skin showing above the neckline of his shirt (was he wearing a gold chain???) and locked eyes with him.

He looked at you for a second, the corner of his lip curled into a lopsided smirk. “Sure thing, Doll.”

He let go of your arms and turned to the fridge. You found your eyes scanning the rippling muscles of his shoulders and down the expanse of his back to his slim hips. It felt like you were peeling velcro apart when you finally forced your eyes to return to the popcorn machine.

Oh my god. Get your shit together.

Suddenly the door to the common room swung open “I have a surprise for you!” Tony’s loud voice called from the doorway.

Then you heard a booming voice (one you hadn’t heard in just about a year) bellow “I’m back midgardians!”

You swung around, jaw practically on the floor, to see if it really was who you thought it was. “THOR!” You squealed. You ran at him full steam. His rumbling laugh almost brought tears to your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms. He picked you up and spun you around. You pulled back to look at him with both palms on either side of his face. “How are you here? Why are you here? Is everything okay?”

He laughed, still holding you about a foot in the air and said “Well, Heimdall had brought me news that my bestie had begun to reside in the compound” you giggled when Thor used the term for best friend you had taught him the last time he was here “And I realized I had not returned to learn of your stories for over a year. It is about time that we ‘overturn the tea,’ is it not?” At this you, Peter and Sam absolutely lose your minds laughing.

“What?” Thor asks “It is time, is it not?”

Steve, Bucky and Tony are looking at the three of you in very obvious confusion. Between wheezing and fits of giggles you finally squeak out “It’s spill the tea, Thor.” This causes Peter to fall into another fit of laughter.

“What do you mean, ‘spill the tea’? Is that a game?” Steve asks.

Thor finally sets you down and turns to Steve while You, Peter and Sam try to catch your breath. “Lady Y/N taught me that midgardian phrase. I am told it means to tell dramatic stories, often those that involve your enemies.”

“Oh my god, Thor I missed you so much.” You laugh and hug him again. He wasn’t kidding, you two were besties. He was so interested in midgardian slang, movies and music and it seemed that most of the time you were the only one who had the patience to teach him things. Whenever he visited you two were basically inseparable and he never failed to make you laugh.

“What were your plans this evening, bestie?” You thought Peter might have an asthma attack or something if Thor kept making him laugh this hard.

“We’re watching a movie! Would you like to join?”

“Indeed!” Thor bellowed. He finally stepped away to great everyone else, giving big bear hugs to everyone. You wandered back to the kitchen to collect the popcorn that Bucky had finished making.

“I didn’t know you and thunderman were that close.” Bucky commented as you grabbed the giant bowl from his hands.

“Well, we don’t see each other that often, but he’s such a sweetie.” You snag a handful from the bowl and shove your face full of popcorn.

“Hm.” Bucky mumbles. He’s looking at the ground by his feet. He seems almost… upset?

“C’mon. We can finally watch!” You give him a little hip check before walking back into the living space. You plop down on the couch, this time between Peter and Thor. Bucky takes a spot in a lounge chair next to Steve. You notice his eyes snag a little too long on the blonde giant next to you.

After the movie is over, and some heated debates between Tony and Thor on which character is the best, you all decide to order some pizza.

You’re struck again at how wonderful it feels to just spend the evenings with your best friends, drinking beer and eating pizza, laughing at the stories Thor tells about Asgard.

When you were living off site, you didn’t have any friends besides… Him. It was supposed to be your little slice of the world separate from your life working with Shield. You tried to keep everything as compartmentalized as possible, but it was hard to make friends when you never really left the apartment and couldn’t be honest with anyone about who you really were. You hadn’t ever realized how lonely you had been for the 3 years you’d lived away from the compound until now. The energy of a room full of your favorite people was intoxicating.

Everyone was standing in the kitchen around the island, drinking beers and chatting. Vision and Wanda were sitting on the couch a few feet away being absolutely adorable. Thor, Steve and Bruce were swapping stories at the end of the island. Nat, Sam and Bucky were picking on Peter. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

You had just cracked open a new beer and started pouring it into a pint glass when Thor spoke up from across the counter.

“So, Y/N, what became of that man Elijah with whom you lived?”

Oh. Shit.

Mid-pour the beer slipped through your fingers and crashed to the counter. Beer went everywhere. Your hands and forearms were covered in sticky residue. Instantly your heart rate spiked and it was all you could do not to let your knees buckle and collapse right there onto the tile.

“Oh. Uh…” You mumbled out. You had to place your palms flat against the counter to keep your hands from shaking. You stared at the kitchen counter top where your glass sat between your hands, trying to force oxygen back into your lungs. It was silent for a bit too long and you could hear the drip drip drip of beer falling from the counter onto the kitchen floor.

“You lived with someone?” Wanda asked from the couch, looking very perplexed.

No one had really known about it. Tony knew, of course, because he needed “a damn good reason” for you not to live at the compound when you first got added to the team, but you had begged him to keep it a secret. Peter sort of knew, only because when he would drop by sometimes he could sense there was someone else in the apartment.

Thor knew because he had brought Asgardian liquor with him one time and you had stayed up on the couch in the compound and gotten hammered and it just sort of slipped out. You’d said something like ‘Oh he’s gonna be pissed when I don’t come home tonight’ and then Thor had questioned you and you’d just sort of… spilled. Well, not everything, but he got most of it.

You just… hadn’t told anyone else. It had started because Elijah had asked to be kept separate from your working life. He didn’t want your relationship overshadowed by “super people” who “didn’t have any idea how to be normal.”

As the years passed, it just started to be a habit, that you would keep secrets from Elijah about what you did at work, and you kept Elijah a secret from everyone.

You could feel everyone in the room staring at you.

“I’m sorry Lady Y/N… I was not aware that everyone did not know you lived with your fiancé.” Thor said softly from the other side of the counter. You winced. You could feel black spots forming in your vision as you tried to keep your breathing normal.

“It’s okay. Um. Yeah. That uh… didn’t work out.” You squeaked out. You couldn’t lift your eyes up to look at anyone. You were focusing all of your energy on not falling apart in front of them.

There was more silence, everyone in the room clearly reeling from learning that not only had you lived with someone for three years, but you were supposed to have married a man none of them knew. The only sound was the continual drip of beer off the edge of the counter. You couldn’t take it anymore.

With a choked “excuse me” you bolted from the room.

You missed Peter saying your name and getting up from his chair. You missed Nat pushing his shoulder back down with a whispered “let her be Peter.” You missed Thor looking at Tony and saying “I should not have said that” and Tony shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. You missed Sam staring down at his hands on the counter, lost in thought. You missed Wanda and Vision sharing a look. You missed Bucky launch himself from his seat to follow you, and Steve snagging Bucky’s arm to stop his forward momentum.

~0~

You crashed through the door to your room and flung it shut behind you. Leaning your back against the door, you slid down to your butt, hugging your knees to your chest. You started rocking back and forth and tried to slow your breathing down. You knew, after talking to your therapist, that this was a panic attack. In the logical half of your brain, you knew you weren’t dying, that no one was trying to attack you or kill you. You knew you could breathe oxygen just fine.

However, it definitely felt like you were dying.

You kept trying to heave oxygen in, but the longer you sat there the more your brain spiralled. You just kept thinking of the silence. The clear feeling of hurt that radiated off your friends, your family.

Your brain warped that silence, filling it with false ideas of your friends sharing accusatory glances. Of their hatred seething from them. Of their distrust and dislike of you bubbling to the surface. You scrubbed at your face. “No no no no” a mantra falling from your lips.

This wasn’t real. Your brain was trying to convince you that they hated you, but they hadn’t done any of the things your brain was trying to tell you they had. They weren’t like that, they didn’t find out things about you and immediately decide you weren’t worth it.

You leaned your head back against the door, knocking it a few times against the wood, trying to clear your brain. You couldn’t think about what happened. You couldn’t change it, you just had to focus on breathing now.

Easier thought than done.

There was a soft tap on the other side of the door, causing you to jerk forward reflexively, like you’d been burned.

“Hey sweetheart. Are you… okay in there?”

Bucky. Oh god. Not again. You refused to let him hold you again while you got nasty snot all in his mechanical arm. It simply wasn’t an option. You opened your mouth to tell him to get the hell away, but the only sound that came out was a small choked cough.

Ah. Right. You couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay. If you want your space that’s totally fine. I’m just… gonna sit here, okay? So you’re not alone. I’ll be right here, on the other side of the door, if you need something. Just try to breathe, okay?” Bucky murmured from the other side.

You were on your hands and knees now, staring at the door, gasping like a fish out of water. You could see the shadow of his feet just on the other side. You saw the light shift as he must have sat down. You heard a soft “thump” as his back hit the door.

There was something about that soft thump that instantly stabilized your racing heart. This was… good. There was no pressure of trying to talk to him or having him look at you while you were panicking, but you knew he was there. It was calming in a way you didn’t fully grasp.

You sat back on your feet and stared at your hands in your lap.

“If your hands tingle, I always find that if I tap each finger to my thumb one at a time, it helps.” Bucky suggested softly through the doorway. You tried it. Tapping one finger tip to your thumb at a time, starting with your pointer. Once you got to your pinky you reversed the order. After a few times, you realized your breathing had evened out and you could see more than just the tunnel vision in front of you.

You looked back up at the door. Bucky’s shadow still hovered just under the frame.

You cleared your throat and croaked “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You stayed there for a while longer, shifting your weight to one side and swinging your legs around to extend them in front of you. Eventually you laid back on the floor of your room and stared at the ceiling again. Your breathing was even and slow, and your muscles finally felt like they had lost all the tension.

You let your eyes fall shut as you melted into the rug underneath you.

~0~

You woke with a start, dreams of angry brown eyes and a messy flop of blond hair haunting you as you sat up in bed.

In bed.

How did you get here? The last thing you remembered was laying back on the entryway rug and closing your eyes…

Bucky.

You groaned and covered your face with your hands. Not again. At some point, you were really going to have to stop breaking down in front of him.

It was then that you remembered him giving you the advice of tapping your fingers to steady yourself. He had said something about him doing it… there was a sick feeling in your stomach thinking about Bucky suffering alone through that.

You stepped out of bed and went to take a long scalding shower before getting dressed. You should find Bucky this morning and thank him… again. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a matching cropped sweatshirt, shoved your feet into your sneakers and stepped into the hallway.

“Friday?” You asked softly.

“Yes?” Friday’s lilt came down from above. She sounded softer than usual, almost like she was matching your sound level.

“Where is Bucky?”

“Agent Barnes is on the training level.”

“Thank you.”

You took the elevator down and stepped into the gym. It seemed like everyone was up early and in the gym this morning, crowded around the sparring mats.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you stepped up between Nat and Wanda to look at whatever it was that everyone else was watching.

They didn’t have to answer you, it was quite obvious. Thor and Steve were wrestling to the absolute death in the center of the mat. Steve was putting up a really good fight, but it looked like Thor had him beat.

“Oh my god.” You chuckled. Of course, everyone wanted their shot at sparing with the demigod, especially the super soldiers. It was rare to have a chance to spar with someone who was stronger than the serum made you, so every time Thor came he always did a few rounds in the ring.

You watched as Steve tried to wrap his legs around Thor and flip him over, but Thor had such a good wrap around Steve’s waist it just wasn’t going to happen. Thor brought one arm up and wrapped Steve in a vise-like headlock.

“Yield, little man. I have bested you.” Thor boomed out.

Steve hesitated, but eventually he tapped Thor’s forearm, signalling defeat.

Thor hopped up and started bouncing on his toes. “It was an exceptional attempt Captain, but you have gone soft since I’ve been in this realm.”

Steve groaned as he dragged himself up from the floor. “That, or you’ve somehow gotten stronger.”

Thor’s eyes popped up and found yours with a mischievous glint in them. Not unlike the one you’d seen in Loki’s eyes many times.

“Ah, Lady Y/N has awoken! Just in time for me to crush her into the floor!” Thor chuckled and beckoned you onto the mat.

“My god, Thor…” You groaned, pulling your sweater off over your head revealing your signature calvin klein sports bra you had thrown on that morning.

“I know I’m a god my lady, but the question is, what will you be?” Thor snarked at you. You just rolled your eyes.

“I’m not really dressed for this currently.” You retort, pulling your sneakers and socks off and tossing them to the side of the ring. You catch Bucky’s eye from where he sits just outside the ring. He looks like Thor has already thoroughly beaten him this morning, all sweaty and panting.

I want to lick the sweat off his chest.

Your head twitches involuntarily at the thought that just popped up unprompted in your mind. Behind you, you hear Wanda snort.

Great.

You send a small smile in his direction, to thank him for last night, he nods in recognition as he takes a big gulp of water from his water bottle. You turn to Thor and raise your fists in front of you.

“Alright big guy, lets see how long I can last.”

~0~

It’s surprisingly long, actually. What you lack in brute strength, you make up for in agility. According to Peter, you lasted two whole minutes longer than Bucky and five longer than Steve.

Doesn’t matter, you still feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Or lightning.

You’re standing in the middle of the ring, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath when Thor places a hand on your back.

“Lady Y/N, I would love to accompany you to your room for some of the ‘girls day’ time.”

You chuckle. Thor loves doing facemasks and drinking champagne with you on your couch while you chat about anything under the sun. He asks nearly every chance he gets.

“Sounds great” you pant “Go shower and meet me up there in 30?”

“I will make haste.” Thor winks and turns to go.

You take a few more seconds to catch your breath as everyone goes back about their own workouts or heads up stairs. When you lift your head, Bucky is still packing up his gym bag just outside the ring.

“Hey, Buck?”

He looks up “What’s up?”

“I just… wanted to thank you. For last night. I know you probably have questions--”

“I don’t want to hear anything you’re not ready to tell.” Bucky cuts you off. “And don’t worry about it. Whenever you need me, I’m there.”

He’s finished putting things in his bag and starts to walk away. Something in you really doesn’t like that he’s moving away from you and you scramble to come up with something to keep him here, even for a second longer.

“Do you want to grab dinner?” You blurt.

He stops with his back to you for a moment before spinning around. “Dinner?”

“Uh…” Oh yeah. Real smooth. Really normal of you. “Yeah. Like, maybe we could go to that bar down the street tonight… and catch up?” You bite your bottom lip. You feel like such a freak right now. You’re asking him to dinner? Really?

Bucky’s eyes dart to your lips for a moment before bouncing back up to your face, but it’s noticeable enough that you instantly blush. You can feel the blood racing up to your face and you have to actively resist the urge to cover your cheeks with your hands. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

Bucky smirks at you and then clears his throat. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. 7:00? We can take my bike.”

“Yeah perfect.” You choke out. “I’ll see you in the garage.”

“Great.”

He turns and leaves, once he’s far enough around the corner you slap a hand to your forehead and double over again. Oh my god. You were going to ride on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle to the bar down the street tonight and have dinner.

This should have felt normal. He’s Bucky. He’s your friend. You used to go grab breakfasts and coffees all the time together.

But something about this dinner felt way different. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

Oh god. What were you going to wear?

~0~

Thor scared the shit out of you when you stepped out of your bathroom wrapped in a towel thirty minutes later.

That’s right. Girl time.

“Jesus Thor.” You placed a hand on your chest as you gaped at the demigod sprawled on your couch.

“I know that guy! Isn’t he the son of a midgardian god?” Thor quips back, unperturbed by how badly he spooked you. “You left your door unlocked. I brought up all of the bottles of champagne that I was able to uncover in Tony’s not-so-secret chamber of wine. I thought you could decide which to begin our afternoon with.”

You laughed at that. He had indeed. There were easily twenty bottles of champagnes of different vintages on the table near your entry. Tony had a massive wine cellar that he always said was for “special occasions only.” Thor being here was pretty special, so hopefully he didn’t get too mad if a few of these bottles went missing.

“Let me put on some comfy clothes and grab some face masks.”

After you had dressed, applied a beautiful green tea facemask all over Thor and your faces and popped a bottle, you finally settled on the couch with Thor.

“Lady Y/N, I first want to apologize for bringing up something that you had shared with me in private in the presence of the team. I was unaware that it was something you desired to keep a secret from everyone. I’m honored that you shared something personal with me and I am deeply sorry for not respecting the way I should.”

You blinked at Thor. You’d almost forgotten that he had been the one to bring up Elijah last night. You’d thought so much about Bucky’s back against your front door and going to a dive bar with him tonight that you’d managed not to worry about the events of last night.

“It’s totally chill Thor. You didn’t know. I also… don’t really know why I kept it from them? I just hadn’t said anything so I was just caught off guard and didn’t know what to say. You know?”

“Yes! You did look quite upset. Did something unfortunate come between you?”

A mirthless laugh escaped your lips. You stared into the glass of bubbles in your hand. “You… could say that.”

“Is this one of those topics that you’d prefer to discuss, or one that you’d prefer to leave to your own heart?” Thor reached out with his foot and tapped your knee with his toes.

You smiled before lifting your eyes to his. “I think I’d like to keep it in my own heart for now. I’ll tell you someday, okay?”

Thor lifted his glass of champagne in your direction “To many more afternoons of scattering the tea!”

A giggle exploded out of you “It’s spill Thor! Spill!” You lifted your glass to clink with his, relaxing into the couch.

~0~

At approximately 6:48 in the evening you decided you simply were too antsy to stay in your room and stare at the ceiling for a minute longer.

You had a wonderful afternoon of “girl time” with Thor. He had stayed for a few hours, telling you about all the silly court drama that he knew was happening back in Asgard. It had felt so… normal. It was glorious.

After he left, you brushed your hair and looked at yourself in the mirror for probably twenty minutes before deciding against any makeup.

It’s just two friends going to dinner.

You had thrown on a pair of black combat style pants, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket over top. Casual, but still a little nicer than the sweats you had been wandering the compound in for the last two months. You still hadn’t fully wrapped your mind around why you were so nervous.

You take a deep breath, shove your feet in your combat boots and decide to just head to the garage now. You don’t want to keep him waiting, and you can just admire Tony’s cars while you wait.

The elevator drops you off in the lower level where all of the team's personal vehicles are parked. As you step out of the elevator, the door to the stairwell opens to reveal none other than the man himself. Bucky.

He looked… amazing. There. You admitted it. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a black henley unbuttoned enough to confirm that he did indeed wear a gold chain and that he had a small scar at the top of his right pec.

As he walked he tossed a faded leather jacket on and the movement gave you a brief glimpse of skin where his shirt rode up.

Did this garage just raise in temperature by like 20 degrees?

You fought the instinct to fan yourself.

“What’s the matter with you princess? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled as he breezed past you toward where his Harley Davidson was parked in the corner of the underground lot. His shoulder just barely brushed yours as he passed.

Somehow, you found your voice. “Do you always take the stairs?”

He didn’t turn around to respond “When the elevator is occupied.”

Well. That was… logical. Duh.

“Get your little ass over here, I’m starving.” He called behind him as he approached the bike.

You felt yourself blush from your hairline down to your toes. “Excuse me?”

“I said get your little ass over here so we can get to that bar and order.” He spun around and gestured to the bike, like he was a presenter on a game show showing you your prize. He patted the leather seat twice. “Your little ass goes here.”

“Right…” you mutter under your breath. God what the hell is wrong with you? You walk over to his bike in silence. He throws one leg over the machine, straddling it and hitting the kickstand. You paused momentarily beside the bike. “So, no helmets?”

Bucky turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face “Sweetheart, you’re superhuman.”

You just rolled your eyes at him as you finally swung your leg over the side of the bike. “Doesn’t make road rash hurt any less…”

He chuckled as he reached back to grab both of your hands “I’ll take care of you, doll.”

He pulled on your wrists until you slid forward a bit on the leather seat. Your hips were now slotted against each other, your chest melded against his back, your thighs in line. He wraps your hands around his abdomen so that your hands rest on the planes of his stomach. Then, he pats your hands twice, softly muttering “Hold on tight.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead between his shoulder blades. You could hear the door to the underground garage rumble open. You took a deep breath before whispering “Okay…” into his back.

Bucky punched the gas and you took off into the crisp evening air.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #female reader #bucky fic

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